The others were stunned, they only felt a flash before their eyes, and by the time the furious roar reached their ears, the C'tan avatar had already crashed into the cube wall, revealing golden psychic runes.
Great!
Blazkowicz's kick filled everyone's hearts with satisfaction; if not for their apprehension about the C'tan's attitude, they would have already been unable to restrain themselves.
"He is merely a prisoner. We came with a request and can tolerate some conditions, but we will not abandon all dignity to achieve our goal."
"Don't push your luck!" Blazkowicz roared, taking the scythe of death wrapped in cloth from his waist and pointing it directly at the Void Dragon.
The Emperor drew his sword, psychic sparks flickering in his eyes; Valdor activated his disintegration field, standing ready; Sintara took out her flintlock, showing some fear but making her stance clear.
"Heh—heh—heh—"
On the throne, the Void Dragon's body shuddered, its slender tail sliding on the ground, and a disdainful laugh entered everyone's ears:
"Since you are so impatient, let us expedite the process and get straight to the point. Blazkowicz Novick. What conditions will you offer to convince me to help you smelt my brother's weapon?"
"Azaghorod is my kin, my brother. I once fought alongside him and witnessed his supreme power."
"You need to provide a reason, one compelling enough to move me and make me unafraid of offending my brother."
At this moment, the Emperor stepped forward, asking a sharp question: "You want to leave here?"
The Void Dragon sat on the throne, its faceless visage showing no expression, nor any body language, entirely in a noncommittal posture.
In the silence, the Emperor made a concession: "If you swear an oath that after leaving, you will not, in any form or by assisting any species, attack humanity, I can consider letting you go."
Blazkowicz turned his face. He hadn't expected that for his armor, the Emperor would make such a huge compromise.
The very existence of a C'tan is the most terrifying disaster; once freed, the entire galaxy would tremble under its shadow.
The Void Dragon's heart trembled, its gaze sweeping over Blazkowicz. It hadn't imagined the Emperor would go to such lengths for his son.
"I have said, imprisonment is merely a respite, a ripple in endless time. I have never thought of leaving here."
He shook his head gently, his words full of regret: "Unfortunately, this condition does not move me."
Mag Ladros sat calmly, knowing full well Blazkowicz's importance in the Emperor's heart, naturally holding the chips firmly.
"Then what do you want?"
As expected, the Emperor asked, handing the initiative to the C'tan.
"Since you are so sincere, I will reluctantly speak." The Void Dragon's consciousness trembled, its ethereal voice even a little shaky: "I need to establish my faith within the Imperium of Man."
Finally, the C'tan revealed its ugly face, opening its greedy maw, attempting to poison humanity.
In recent centuries, the dragon, imprisoned in the labyrinth, had felt a mysterious power lingering around him.
Though very weak, it was undeniably real.
The Omnissiah!
He unraveled the mystery, discovering the source of power was the spiritual energy born from faith.
After much thought and calculation, a crazy idea flashed in his mind: perhaps he could take another step forward, transcend the physical universe, and become the one true god coexisting in reality and the Warp!
Faith.
This ethereal yet real power, within human souls, was a pure and devout spark, birthed by consciousness.
Upon realizing this, he even resented the Necrons of old; they lacked psychic talent and could not provide faith support.
But there was also a hint of glee; now only he knew the new possibilities contained within the power of faith, allowing for bold experimentation.
"Impossible!"
Three voices rang out simultaneously, sternly rejecting the C'tan's condition.
Blazkowicz, the Emperor, and Sintara, all three knew how terrifying the power of faith was.
Fearing that faith would manifest physically in the Warp, the Emperor performed a miracle on Mars, drawing and dividing the "Omnissiah," taking on the Adeptus Mechanicus's faith himself.
To prevent the proliferation of faith, he ordered the Seventeenth Legion to tear down temples and burn scriptures.
All his efforts were to prevent the emergence of any gods related to humanity.
Sintara also breathed a sigh of relief. This old one Elder was genuinely worried that the Emperor and Blazkowicz would agree to this, thereby giving rise to an existence even more terrifying than the Chaos Gods of the Warp.
Blazkowicz said nothing, his chest rising and falling faster. He had already lost his patience!
"Then, gentlemen, please leave." The Void Dragon seemed uninterested. He curled his tail, making a waving motion in place of a hand, signaling for everyone to depart.
Boom!!!
Heavy footsteps sounded as Blazkowicz stepped forward, glaring at the imprisoned throne, his eyes burning with fury: "We were willing to negotiate, but you missed your chance."
"!" Sintara exclaimed, her voice laced with pleading: "Don't do anything foolish! Think of Llandu'gor!"
Llandu'gor,the Flayer, was the only C'tan confirmed to have been killed by the Necrons, but the consequences were severe.
The dynasty that killed him was cursed, entering the Great Sleep prematurely, and the curse had the potential to spread to the entire race.
"Llandu'gor?" The Void Dragon was puzzled, then burst into laughter: "You want to kill me?"
Its metallic long tail pointed at Sintara, laughing even more maniacally: "You think he can kill me?"
Its voice was as venomous as poison, and its angry roar whipped up a storm: "I am Mag'ladroth! The most powerful C'tan, not that useless Llandu'gor!"
The divine body struggled, trying to rise from the throne, but the golden runes on the base transformed into golden chains, pulling it back to the throne, bound.
"Curse this broken body!" Amidst the creaking of chains, the god cursed and hated his current self, so powerless.
"Release him!"
A low growl sounded, subduing the storm and quieting the cubic cage.
The C'tan gave up struggling, its omnipresent gaze like it was looking at an idiot.
He dared to challenge a god?
The Void Dragon investigated again, discovering that the so-called "Primarch" had no psychic powers, only a powerful physical body.
Mere brute strength could not defeat a god.
"Ridiculous." He sneered, settling back on the throne, believing the Emperor would not let his son die, and would certainly not release the seal.
Blazkowicz stood before the divine throne, his face expressionless as he turned back to Sintara: "I won't kill him, I just want to give him an offer he can't refuse."
Hearing this, Sintara nodded heavily, reaching to touch her chest to calm her inner turmoil.
The Emperor said nothing, knowing he couldn't stop Blazkowicz, so he squatted down, hands on the ground, using his extraordinary psychic power to reinforce the cage.
Seeing this, Sintara, realizing a great battle was inevitable, pressed his hands to the floor, reinforcing the cage once more.
"Are you really going to let me go?" The Void Dragon was extremely surprised, not understanding why the Emperor had such confidence.
It noticed Blazkowicz holding his brother's weapon and scoffed disdainfully: "A weapon of death can wound me, but it absolutely cannot kill me."
"The flames of Nyadra'zatha, if he were complete, I would give him three parts, but now—"
"Enough talk." Blazkowicz interrupted the god's words, removed his arm gauntlet, and threw it along with the scythe of death to Valdor.
He had originally intended to teach the Void Dragon a lesson, but because of this contempt, he decided to make the lesson even more profound.
"Arrogant!"
The Void Dragon said no more, intending to settle the matter with action.
With the cage reinforced, the Emperor chanted a spell. As golden runes emerged from his mouth, the chains binding the throne transformed into golden starlight and vanished.
The Void Dragon let out a low howl, rising from the throne and moving away, feeling a moment of unreality.
But the ceaseless power surging from its body brought it back to reality—all of this was real!
"Heh~ heh~ heh~" Raising his hand to grasp, a silver-grey spear appeared in his hand. Mag'ladroth grinned ferociously: "I will make your death a quick one."
With the weapon in hand, the green glow in his wing-rings became even more dazzling. The C'tan's body began to revive, and a terrifying aura rapidly grew.
He floated in the air, green lightning flashing around him, and swung the spear in a circle, its tip pointing directly at the arrogant one.
Blazkowicz showed no fear, extending his right hand to grasp the air. A Warp rift appeared, and the Crucible Sword pierced through the veil.
Seeing that a great battle was imminent, the Emperor and the others retreated to a corner, setting up a psychic barrier to protect themselves, awaiting the outcome of the divine battle.
"I will give you an offer you cannot refuse."
The Crucible Sword entered his hand, dancing a crimson moon in his grasp. It sensed divinity, eager to drink the blood of a god.
The Void hung in the void, looking down at Blazkowicz, yet straightened its back.
He felt the approach of multiple powerful concepts, and a never-before-felt chill named fear arose in the depths of his consciousness.
It was as if—he had encountered a natural predator!
He lowered his head, his gaze cast from a higher dimension, yet he could not clearly see the weapon in Blazkowicz's hand.
It was an amalgamation of endless fury and malicious concepts; man and sword became one, and the danger level increased exponentially!
An alarm rang in Mag'ladroth's heart, an unprecedented, piercing sensation of "life-threatening" emerged.
The moment the crimson light emerged, the empty shell forged from Mag'ladroth alloy pulsed as if a heart had been born within it—each throb emanating an awe-inspiring pressure that made even divine bones tremble.
The Crucible Sword pierced through the Warp, and Sintara's eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape, an expression of disbelief flickering within his gaze.
He could not imagine that the sword hilt Blazkowicz once wore at his waist was the god-slaying weapon he had yearned for!
When the longsword was dormant, it was as plain as a stone carving; when it revealed its edge, even the gods were terrified.
With just a clash of wills, the battle between god and man began.
The Void Dragon held a spear, its body suspended proudly in the air, the god looking down with eyes like a decree of death.
Blazkowicz, with the Crucible Sword in his hand, unsheathed its blade, challenging the god with human defiance.
God and man, both transformed into streams of light transcending time and space, entangled in battle within the dimensional rift.
An extraordinary battle unfolded within the cube-shaped cage!
The Mag'ladroth's spear descended, a bloody divine weapon that had swept through countless worlds and slaughtered billions of lives, hurled from the god's hand.
It flickered with ghastly green lightning, emitting a terrifying aura, tearing through space and time, carrying the god's judgment upon the blasphemer.
The Crucible Sword swung, and tens of thousands of crimson thunderbolts erupted from its blade, licking the cube space and piercing through the psychic defenses.
Sword and spear clashed with a thunderous roar! Crimson thunder and green lightning exploded into a net of annihilation, devouring every inch of the cubic space.
Crash!!!!
Green and red lightning exploded where they met, rendering the entire space into a lightning domain, ushering in the prelude to the god-man battle.
Two different forces collided savagely, power against power.
Mag'ladroth, the embodiment of physical laws, a natural god, capable of destroying heaven and earth with a casual strike.
Blazkowicz, infused with the essence of a great existence, possessed endless rage, one of the most powerful entities in the physical universe.
When these two transcendent beings clashed, the power they unleashed was enough to shake stars, Warp space-time, and shock multiple dimensions of reality and the Warp.
At the point where sword and spear met, hyper-dimensional space was torn, shattering like a mirror.
In the struggle of the first clash, the Void Dragon's inner state drastically changed, from contempt to shock.
A colossal force, capable of moving mountains and filling seas, making worlds tremble, emanated from the spear, numbing the god's hand.
Witnessing such divine power, he naturally dared not be negligent. He clenched his left hand, and space fragments, commanded by the master of the material realm, condensed into an invisible blade, striking down at Blazkowicz.
The spatial blade was formless and invisible, traveling between dimensions, cutting through even space itself wherever it passed.
Its speed was terrifyingly fast, aiming to strike in a barely perceptible moment, intending to cleave Blazkowicz in two.
Blazkowicz detected the invisible blade; his senses were frighteningly keen, capturing any subtle change and comprehending the entire battlefield environment.
The slight grinding sound of the Mag'ladroth alloy when the god's hand clenched, and the unusual distortion of space in front of him, were all perceived by him.
In a microsecond of vibration, he had already acted, neither dodging nor evading, extending his left hand to grasp the spatial blade!
This action was incredible, audacious, even utterly arrogant.
The Void Dragon, suspended in mid-air, tilted its head back, its laughter transmitted through spatial tremors, mocking the human's arrogance and overestimation of himself.
But the sneering abruptly ceased as Blazkowicz's palm grasped the invisible thing!
He stared intently at the lofty god, his eyes bloodshot with fury, endless rage materializing into flames that warped physical laws.
The invisible became tangible in his palm; his left hand continuously squeezed, and space was crushed with a creaking sound.
Mag'ladroth was horrified; he had never seen an existence that could Warp physical laws without using psychic power, relying solely on personal will.
Even more terrifying things followed. In the god's omnipresent gaze, Blazkowicz, carrying his longsword, stepped on the Warp and charged towards his true body!
Physical laws were warped; under a powerful will, the Warp condensed into steps, sending a man to slaughter a god.
If the Void Dragon could sweat, he would be drenched now; what he saw exceeded the god's comprehension.
He hastily retracted his spear, gripping the weapon with both hands. Infinite power surged within his Mag'ladroth alloy body, smashing down heavily upon the approaching non-human entity.
Bang!!!!
A loud noise erupted, followed by a violent explosion. The impact swept through the cubic space, continuously expanding within the Mag'ladroth prison.
If not for the Emperor and Sintara having fortified the battle space in advance before the fight began, this cube would have long since shattered.
The two forces collided and stalemated within it, spear blade and sword blade gnashing, lightning and fury intertwining, physical laws and concepts crushing each other.
Blazkowicz's arms were torn, flesh and blood splattering, the flying droplets even piercing through the Warp ripples. He stepped on invisible steps, using his sword as a wedge, to forcefully withstand Mag'ladroth's world-ending strike.
His eyes were crimson with rage, yet his black pupils were as calm as stagnant water, fixed on his enemy.
The Void Dragon was also not faring well; the weapon in his hand wailed, cracks appeared in the skin of his leaden arms, and the alloy muscles embedded within them snapped inch by inch. Green sparks constantly overflowed from the muscle fissures, indicating his body had reached its limit.
His obsidian head was bowed; he no longer dared to underestimate the Warrior King. Through the green sparks and red blood, the god saw a pair of eyes.
A pair of angry, cold eyes, focused on their target, driven by pure will, a clear-purposed and unyielding soul.
In his eyes, there was no lofty god, only an enemy blocking his path!
"What are you?No... What are you!?" The god's interrogation thundered through the dimensions.
In the clash between god and man, the god for the first time put aside his arrogance, confirming with a voice of fearful majesty what creature this being before him truly was.
"A human."
Blazkowicz remained unmoving, his gaze piercing through the crimson blade's flames, locking onto every subtle energy flow of Mag'ladroth.
"Hmph."
The Void Dragon sneered, having no interest in refuting or delving deeper. He could not believe that this creature in human skin was a human.
Rather than exploring identity, winning the current battle was the most crucial task.
He cast aside all contempt and pride, no longer questioning, and with a swift movement, he retracted his weapon, beginning the second round of battle.
"Lightning!"
The god let out a long cry, sweeping his spear horizontally, and a ghastly green lightning bolt shot out from the green light above his head.
The green lightning was the manifestation of Mag'ladroth's authority, representing the destructive power of physical laws. When the lightning struck, the blasphemer would ultimately pay the price.
Blazkowicz did not delay; he concentrated his mind and uttered two words in the language of creation: "Lightning!"
Boom!!!!
Crimson thunder erupted from his mouth. Having learned the language of creation from the Old Ones, this was the first time he had used it against an enemy, other than teaching his descendants.
The destructive power of physical laws and the primordial power of the Warp, two supreme mighty forces, collided, causing the entire cube to quake.
Tens of thousands of red and green lightning bolts intertwined, forming a dazzling lightning dragon. It roared with distortion, shaking space-time.
The Emperor and Sintara remained silent, simply continuously inputting psychic energy to strengthen the psychic barrier.
Ultimately, the crimson lightning dispersed the green lightning; the mental lightning, forged from will, shattered the pure physical laws.
The Void Dragon had no time to dodge; the divine radiance above his head was struck, and the crimson lightning immediately spread down his body.
Just as Blazkowicz was about to press his advantage, an alarm blared in his mind, and a sharp blade cut through space, stabbing back towards his waist muscles.
He released his left hand, which had been holding the sword in a stalemate, and no longer exerted force with his sword-wielding right hand, letting it tilt forty-five degrees downwards, sliding away from Mag'ladroth's spear.
Accompanied by a harsh grinding sound, Blazkowicz's left hand grabbed sideways, taking advantage of the Void Dragon's momentary pause while raising his spear.
He backhanded and seized the incoming metallic long tail—which was originally the Void Dragon's hidden killing intent from another dimension.
The battle changed in an instant. In that brief moment, the Void Dragon's spear thrust forward, aimed directly at Blazkowicz's throat.
With this strike, Blazkowicz had no time to defend. The Emperor, the only one in the field who could clearly see the battle, subconsciously raised his arm, wanting to intervene for the warrior.
Another instant passed, and he lowered his arm.
Blazkowicz exerted force furiously, the veins in his left arm bulging, pulling the god's metallic long tail and flinging it outwards.
An irreversible dragging force came from the tail, making it impossible for his feet to advance another inch. The Void Dragon's divine body was flung away, smashing against the golden wall of the prison.
Ripples spread through the Warp. Blazkowicz's pursuit arrived again. The Void Dragon lifted his spear and swept it horizontally, and the two once again became entangled in battle.
God and man, transcendent and transcendent.
The two most powerful individuals in the physical universe no longer exchanged any words, continuously releasing power, desperately wanting to kill each other.
Mag'ladroth's power was infinite, and Blazkowicz's rage was ceaseless.
They were endless warriors, fists colliding, compressing space, weapons passing through time, no longer describable by speed.
Lightning and fury intertwined, physical and spiritual colliding.
Reality clashing with spiritual will, a casual strike exceeding mortal comprehension, fighting with full might, making the entire hyper-dimensional space tremble.
The grueling battle was endless.
Thousands of slashes intertwined every microsecond, divine blood splattering and furious flames roaring, melting into a hymn of destruction.
Constantin Valdor stood at the outer edge of the corner, with only a torrent of light raging before his eyes, making it difficult to directly observe the battle. He stood tall, using his imposing physique as a shield, firmly protecting the Emperor behind him.
He counted the seconds in his mind, timing it with a primitive method, as the timer inside his armor had long lost its accuracy due to the chaotic temporal interference caused by the battle.
The battle had raged for seventy-two Terra hours. The combatants seemed to possess inexhaustible stamina, their attacks growing stronger with each strike, unleashing their fury and divine power.
Having overused her psychic abilities to reinforce the cage, Sintara looked weary. She pulled out a blanket from somewhere, covered herself, and fell asleep.
The Emperor sat cross-legged, his eyes closed, continuously releasing psychic energy to contain the battlefield.
If not for his psychic protection, the battle would have long since torn through hyper-dimensional space, destroyed the Eternal Night Labyrinth, and even affected the entirety of Mars.
The Emperor himself was not faring well; his dark brown face was pale. The excessive use of psychic energy had already begun to affect the outside world.
The most noticeable change was that navigators aboard ships traveling in the Warp observed that the light of the Terra Astronomican had steadily dimmed and weakened over the past forty-eight hours.
Maintaining the Astronomican's navigation and containing the battlefield was no small burden for the Emperor.
Each of Blazkowicz's fierce assaults was enough to tear the psychic seal, forcing the Emperor to constantly expend energy to reconstruct it.
This cyclical process, naturally, consumed even more power.
"Ah!!!!"
A shrill scream echoed, causing the Emperor and Valdor to open their eyes and startling the sleeping old one awake.
They cast their gaze upon the battlefield, craning their necks to watch the momentarily paused combat.
Two comet-like figures decelerated from extreme speed and halted at the center of the cube.
The Void Dragon wailed piteously, its divine body uncontrollably tumbling and plummeting into the abyss.
Green energy fluid splattered like blood, and a gruesome wound from its right armpit to its left chest was a horrifying sight.
It wailed as it fell, feeling genuine pain, a sensation it had never experienced before.
During the War in Heaven, the Necrons betrayed the gods, shattering them with Slayer weapons.
But at that time, although its authority was fragmented, it felt no pain, only a sense of detachment and a hint of emptiness.
Now, the Void Dragon truly felt pain, spreading along its Necrodermis shell like a million needles, stinging the cold consciousness of the god.
It shrieked and wailed, its proud demeanor shattered, falling helplessly to the ground.
As the master of the material realm was injured, the domain it represented also experienced problems.
From the crimson Mars to the vast void, all Adeptus Mechanicus personnel who worshipped the god of machines experienced a dulling of their thoughts.
Their ceaseless flow of inspiration abruptly ceased, as if they had lost their source. Their minds were filled with garbled code, and their mechanical brain circuits suffered data imbalances.
In the deeper cosmos, within the Necrons dynasties slumbering beneath the ground, the Void Dragon fragments imprisoned in hyper-dimensional cubes suddenly awoke.
Lacking complete consciousness, they only felt pain, frantically unleashing energy, desperate to escape their cages and merge with other fragments.
Alas, all was in vain.
Without complete authority, the C'tan fragments, despite possessing endless energy, still struggled to break free from their restraints.
The fragments unleashed power, shattering the hyper-dimensional cube's mechanical structure, only for it to repair itself moments later.
The hyper-dimensional cube absorbed the C'tan's energy, using it instead to repair its outer walls, a cyclical process that perpetually kept the prisoner from escaping.
The damage suffered by the Void Dragon affected the entire universe, and the physical laws it represented were momentarily unbalanced, causing countless scientific achievements to become erroneous.
Amidst its pain, it also discovered a terrifying fact: its body could not regenerate!
It was known that the C'tan's physical vessel originated from the Necrons' "living metal."
This metal, far beyond normal comprehension, once solidified from a liquid state, would rapidly revert to its initial form when its shape was damaged.
And the living metal used to construct the C'tan's body was Necrodermis—a C'tan alloy refined by the Necrons using C'tan technology.
Its repair speed, energy utilization, and toughness were elevated to an incredible degree, reaching the limits of the physical universe.
Not to mention ordinary swords, even battleship cannons could barely leave a trace. If by chance a C'tan's shell was grazed, it could reconstruct itself within milliseconds.
But now, a problem had arisen. Not only could the wound not reconstruct, but something even more terrifying followed.
The C'tan Void Dragon, Mag'ladroth, discovered that its own authority, or what mortals understood as "divinity," had diminished somewhat as the blade struck its body!
Bang!!
Before it could ponder further, with the clang of a boot hitting the ground, Blazkowicz, wielding that malevolent sword, charged forward again with a menacing aura.
Disregarding everything else, the Void Dragon's heart was filled with terror. It shamelessly kicked the ground, propelling itself backward, haphazardly raising its spear to meet the attack.
Blazkowicz looked down from above, his eyes devoid of mercy. He placed both hands on the hilt of the Crucible Sword, and the Slayer weapon, at his will, transformed into a greatsword.
The red blade left a trail of light, carving a crimson moon in the void, and once again struck the C'tan's spear.
The Void Dragon propped up its hands, blocking the descent of the cursed weapon, but felt its arms trembling. It suddenly realized that it was somewhat out of its depth.
With each piece of authority it lost, it weakened a corresponding amount.
This ebb and flow instantly shattered the fragile balance, and the scales of victory tipped towards the other side.
Crack~
The spear emitted a sudden, weary sound of unbearable stress. The weapon that had accompanied it in battle let out a painful wail, and a crack appeared in it during the clash.
In shock, the C'tan's weapon shattered. There was no longer any obstruction beneath the Crucible Sword, which cleaved directly towards the god!
"No!!!"
Another soul-rending pain. At the last moment, the Void Dragon dodged a direct blow to the head, but its left shoulder was tragically torn.
The Crucible cleaved down from its left shoulder, tearing through the C'tan's shell, directly reaching deep into its heart.
The Void Dragon let out an unwilling wail, its long tail coiling up to launch a desperate counterattack, striking Blazkowicz in the abdomen and sending him flying.
Blazkowicz made no sound, flipping his body in the air to adjust his posture. As he landed, his boots scraped sparks from the ground, and one hand slammed into the floor, carving a furrow before he finally halted his backward momentum.
His abdomen was horizontally sliced open, revealing his internal organs, and blood continuously flowed out. He stood up, pointed the Crucible Sword at the C'tan, completely disregarding his injuries, and charged forward again.
"Don't come any closer!!!"
The Void Dragon shrieked, sickly green energy fluid flowing from its wound. It propped itself up with one hand, continuously dragging itself backward.
Blazkowicz's footsteps did not falter; his dark eyes held an unshakeable resolve, vowing not to stop until his goal was achieved!
The metallic long tail struck again. He leaped high, severing the C'tan's tail with a single sword stroke, and deftly caught the tail barb, sharp as a blade.
With the Crucible Sword reversed in his right hand and the C'tan's tail barb in his left, the Void Dragon was utterly terrified. It dragged its body backward, raised a hand, and said, "Wait a moment..."
Too late!
Blazkowicz descended like thunder, pressing the tail barb to shatter the obsidian face and plunging it into the Void Dragon's brain. The Crucible Sword then severed its arm, and with a twist, plunged into its chest, pinning it firmly to the ground.
Its body suffered a horrific impact, its divine form arching violently, trembling intensely like a dying star.
He slowly rose, stepping on the god's broad chest, expressionless, looking down at the Void Dragon's shattered face.
Beneath the obsidian was a void, with twinkling starlight, like a magnificent, deep universe.
The battle concluded. The Emperor let out a long sigh, allowing Valdor to help him up. Together, they looked at the broad back, walking from the corner towards Blazkowicz.
Godslayer!
This magnificent feat, a legend in countless civilizations, existing in imagination, symbolizing the indomitable spirit of life, had actually unfolded before their eyes.
If not witnessed firsthand, how could anyone believe it?
Although the C'tan was not yet dead, it had completely lost all resistance. The high and mighty god had been reduced to a lamb awaiting slaughter.
A legendary event, like a dream, had appeared!
Blazkowicz took several deep breaths, calming the rage in his heart and allowing the surging, restless blood to settle.
Just now, he had almost wanted to completely end the Void Dragon, to utterly finish the god right there.
As for the curse of a god's death, let it come; he would bear it alone!
"An incredible feat!"
The old one pushed off with her legs, hopping to the supine body of the Void Dragon. He cautiously poked the divine body with her hand, then turned to Blazkowicz and praised, "Such a formidable warrior, the title of Slayer is well-deserved!"
Valdor, supporting the Emperor, rubbed the ground with his gleaming golden boots, wanting to see how the god's blood differed from that of ordinary people.
As they drew closer, the Emperor refused his attendant's support. He had mostly recovered, and his golden psychic light flared brightly once more.
On the ground lay the dying Void Dragon. He stepped on the god's green blood, his gaze at Blazkowicz filled with satisfaction and pride.
The Emperor had a thousand words he wanted to say, wanting to use the most effusive praises accumulated over tens of thousands of years to commend the Slayer's feat.
The Emperor spoke two syllables in the ancient Terran tongue, the highest salute a human warrior could give for a great achievement:
"Magnificent!"
The Emperor, whose existence spanned history and who had heard countless praises and eulogies about himself, finally uttered these two words.
Without a doubt, single-handedly confronting the Void Dragon, a C'tan, was a rare feat in the history of humanity, and indeed, the universe.
Blazkowicz leaped down from the Void Dragon's chest.
The C'tan's body trembled violently, its life force chaotic like corrupted code, with data streams flickering erratically from the wound.
At the heart, where the Crucible Sword had pierced, destructive power spread, consuming the god's strength and consciousness, slowly killing it.
Now the dust had settled, and the god had fallen to a mortal.
The four stood around the immortal body, looking down from above, no longer gazing up but rather observing the god from a superior position.
This immense contrast showed that the gap between humans and gods was no longer vast; their statuses were now equal.
The longsword pinned the C'tan to the ground, sealing its divine power and life force. The Void Dragon's torso appeared dead, with only its limbs twitching.
Sintara meticulously examined the Crucible Sword, wanting to touch it but instinctively recoiling, scratching its head and cheeks, filled with anxiety.
It wanted to observe the god-slaying weapon but ultimately couldn't touch it, pacing frantically in place.
The Emperor was filled with emotion, recalling past battles. Back then, he wasn't as powerful as he was now; it had taken immense effort and focus to barely defeat and capture the Void Dragon.
Now, someone with just one person and one sword had brought down the god's body, crushing its arrogance and contempt.
Unlike the two who merely observed, Valdor poked the Void Dragon's body with the spear of helios, wanting to test if his weapon could penetrate the god's defenses.
The result was somewhat disappointing; the spear tip only pierced the surface of the C'tan's lead-colored skin, unable to penetrate deeper into the divine body. After the spear was withdrawn, the wound immediately healed as if new.
Shaking his head, Valdor disappointedly accepted this outcome. It wasn't that the spear of helios was ineffective, but rather that his own abilities were limited.
Within a few breaths, Blazkowicz's abdominal wound scabbed over and fell off. His powerful regenerative ability healed the wound, leaving behind a strip of tender skin.
He walked to the Void Dragon's shattered head, lowered his gaze, and said expressionlessly, "I told you I would give you an offer you couldn't refuse. Are you willing to listen now?"
"Ugh…"
Mag'ladroth's weakness was visible to the naked eye. It was no longer a high and mighty C'tan, but had become a lamb to be slaughtered.
Knowing its fate, it used all its strength to establish a faint connection with its finger, lightly tapping the ground.
Seeing that a method of communication had been found, Blazkowicz nodded in satisfaction, his deep voice still cold: "Choose to obey, or perish here. I believe you can make a wise choice."
His tone held no fluctuations, yet his words grew colder and colder, like sharp, icy thorns, pricking the Void Dragon's consciousness.
It had no choice. The path of life or death was never chosen by the vanquished.
Tap, tap, tap… Its finger tapped the cage floor, the rhythm forming syllables that clearly conveyed its meaning.
Gods are eternal; it did not wish to perish here.
Its finger tapped out a rhythm, representing the abandonment of its dignity, and the humiliating acceptance of human command.
"Hmph." Blazkowicz snorted, having received a satisfactory answer, and raised his hand to pull out the Crucible Sword.
As the blade left its body, the unparalleled suppressive force vanished. The Void Dragon's divine body trembled violently, its tensed torso relaxed, and it lay supine on the floor, waiting for its chaotic body to recover.
Its left shoulder was split open, its chest horizontally torn, and its long tail and left arm were missing. This body would be eternally incomplete.
It supported itself with one arm and rose from the ground under everyone's gaze. It did not float in the void, but for the first time, stood with its feet on the ground.
Its alloy shoulders, capable of bearing stars, rose and fell like a mortal's, its gaze sweeping over the cursed blade, an indelible dread imprinted in its consciousness.
It was a terrifying sensation: its consciousness slowly devoured by stillness and nothingness, lingering on the brink of extinction, personally experiencing the sensation of its soul being finely ground.
Under the threat of death, the Void Dragon had no choice but to immediately agree to the demand.
The majestic divine body slowly stood up, its obsidian face began to reconfigure, and green energy continuously flowed from the wounds of its damaged body, but there was indeed no longer any threat to its life.
Although its body would be eternally incomplete, for a C'tan with infinite energy, it was merely superficial damage, nothing to worry about.
"Speak." The Void Dragon stood on the ground, its magnificent voice emanating from all directions, tired and weak: "What do you need me to do?"
The cursed blade had caused many irreversible damages to its consciousness that could no longer be repaired.
After understanding the situation, whether it wanted to or not, there was only one path it could take.
It now only wanted to send the plague god away, to avoid its sharp edge, and after countless ages, when the hyper-dimensional space collapsed, it would seek revenge on the one who dared to injure it!
By then, he would be utterly defenseless!
It would stand before his tomb, using unimaginable cruel methods to thoroughly humiliate his remains.
A C'tan had infinite time to wait for everything to settle, and when the immortal became mere bones, it would freely enjoy its revenge.
Blazkowicz nodded in acknowledgment, then stepped aside. Professional matters were for professionals; his work was done.
The Old Sage received the scythe of death from the Commander of the Imperial Guard, unwrapping the sealed cloth strips around it, her excitement palpable: "Modify its form, return to its primordial state. I want to use it to forge a suit of armor for Blazkowicz."
The Void Dragon's right hand made a grasping motion, and the scythe floated up, hovering before its obsidian face.
The obsidian was smooth as a mirror, with physical logic and analytical power shimmering within it, projecting a green light that formed a bubble around the scythe of the nightbringer.
"Not quite right." After a long analysis, the Void Dragon looked down at the highly expectant old one and shook its head: "Your idea is very good, but it violates fundamental principles."
At the Void Dragon's words, everyone looked up at it, and Blazkowicz also frowned, hoping for an explanation.
"The Warp is chaotic and disorderly; imagination is existence," the Void Dragon hastily explained under their piercing gazes: "This is also why we dislike the Warp."
It spread its palm to the crowd, explaining eloquently: "Building a universe with numbers, but the Real Universe is different. Everything is built upon physical laws, with its own framework."
"Whether it's scientific thought or life and death, it needs to follow rules. The basic framework determines everything."
"The Warp is idealistic, the Real Universe is materialistic. Idealism only cares about emotions; extreme emotions can turn things around. Materialism is different; one is one, two is two, basic logic is eternal and unchanging."
Blazkowicz gripped the Crucible Sword, asking steadily, "What does this have to do with forging armor?"
Seeing that he looked ready to charge again, the Void Dragon took a step back, no longer speaking in grand narratives, and pointed out the key: "Attack, defense."
"This scythe is the Nightbringer's sharpest will. Its basic framework is attack, and its concept is the most incisive."
"It's best suited for forging weapons. Reforging it into armor violates physical laws, and its power would be less than a tenth. Are you sure you want to do this?"
After receiving the explanation, Blazkowicz turned his gaze to Sintara, hoping for professional confirmation.
"Even C'tan have to obey physical laws?" Sintara exclaimed in surprise, clearly, the answer was beyond her expectation.
"Hmph." The Void Dragon snorted: "We are gods of reality, masters of physical laws, and will not violate our own laws."
"We are not like those scoundrels in the Warp, full of wild ideas that contradict their own existence."
With that, it returned the scythe to Sintara and stood aside, saying nothing more.
Although it fell silent, the Void Dragon was secretly pleased. It had known everything all along and had no desire to help humanity.
Its initial silence was to leave itself an out, to reasonably decline humanity's request based on facts.
The plan had deviated slightly, as the one who acted was not the Emperor, but ultimately, the situation was still under control.
Sintara scratched her head in annoyance, her wide mouth grimacing with chagrin. She looked at the scythe in her hand, then at Blazkowicz, her brow furrowed with the guilt of coming up empty-handed.
"What are you struggling with?"
A deep, questioning voice rang out, filled with profound doubt.
As Valdor spoke, he drew all eyes. He casually raised his hand, pointing to the severed limb immersed in divine blood: "Isn't there suitable material there?"
"If it's truly not enough…"
He smoothly extended his arm, pointing to the C'tan's tall body, and what he said sent a chill down the god's spine: "Isn't there plenty here?"
"Constantin Valdor!" The Void Dragon gnashed its teeth, its fury echoing through space.
In the depths of its will, Blazkowicz was no longer the most hated person; Constantin Valdor had surpassed him to become the primary object of its hatred!
To forge armor from a C'tan's body was an immense humiliation, and to do it in front of the victim, even requiring the victim's help in the forging, was beyond insult.
If not for Blazkowicz and the Emperor by his side, Valdor would have been torn to shreds as punishment for his blasphemy.
Amidst the C'tan's surging fury, the Emperor beckoned with his finger. Golden psychic energy enveloped the C'tan's arm and tail spike, drawing them before him.
"Then let us begin."
The Emperor removed his True Armor, his inner robe tied around his waist, revealing a lean but muscular upper body.
Ignoring the god's humiliated fury, the old one took out an iron anvil and a furnace from her dimensional pocket, placing its arm into the furnace.
"What are you waiting for?"
Sintara gestured to the Void Dragon, pointing at the furnace opening and saying, "Release your power, melt the C'tan fragments as we agreed."
Mag'ladroth's body trembled, overwhelming humiliation surged, and it looked at the furnace, not moving for a long time.
When did a mere old one dare to command it?
Buzz~~~
Then it glimpsed the cold gleam of the blade, took a few deep breaths, swallowing the immense humiliation and hatred.
If it disobeyed now, what lay in the furnace would not just be a severed arm, but its own completely annihilated corpse.
The god trembled, beckoning for the Burner's Gauntlet, using its power to awaken its brother's fragments, and releasing C'tan flames towards the furnace opening.
Stimulated by the C'tan, the five fingers of the armguard spread, and the dormant power within them gradually awakened, releasing a scorching heat equivalent to one-tenth of the "Planck temperature."
Planck temperature is the physical universe's temperature limit, a terrifying high temperature that can only erupt at the instant of the Big Bang.
At such high temperatures, all existence would cease.
The one-tenth temperature released by the gauntlet was the limit of the Burner's fragments, and also the point where physical laws became ineffective, just enough to melt the C'tan fragments into a quark-gluon plasma, reshaping its physical laws.
Under the extreme heat, the C'tan alloy lost its activity, beginning to peel away layer by layer, exposing the C'tan fragments contained within.
When Blazkowicz severed the arm, he cut off the concepts within it as well, separating the C'tan fragments.
Watching its own arm begin to dissolve, the Void Dragon was heartbroken, but helpless; the situation was stronger than the god, so it could only silently endure this humiliation.
The Emperor, without hesitation, threw the god's severed spear and tail barb into the furnace, further weakening the C'tan's power.
His actions were witnessed by the god, causing it immense pain.
Its power was continuously stripped away, turning into raw quark-gluon plasma, and its heart bled and wailed.
"I have a good idea!"
In extreme anger, the Void Dragon let out a low growl, throwing the scythe of death into the furnace, and said resentfully, "Add some extra armaments."
It hated Azagoth to death; if not for this weapon, why would it suffer such humiliation and torment?
Since it wasn't having a good time, the culprit shouldn't either!
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly without speaking, a brilliant idea forming in his mind.
The scythe and the body heated together, physical laws slowly melting in the furnace, bright, hot quark-gluon plasma drifting down, converging into a stream of intensely hot fluid in the furnace.
The old one's furnace could not only withstand high temperatures but also protected physical laws from dissipating, preventing material waste.
Sintara wore goggles and a blacksmith's leather apron, intently watching the physical changes of the C'tan fragments.
She pulled the bellows, beginning the forging ritual, chanting old one prayers, using the cosmic truth to protect the furnace from collapsing under the high temperature.
The smelting process was incredibly slow; the furnace fire burned ceaselessly, and the prayers continued without pause.
Only the most outstanding Forging Master could concentrate so intently, watching every subtle change in the raw materials.
And the infinite energy input from the C'tan, ensuring the stability of the furnace fire, was the top priority of the refining process!
Neither could be absent; they cooperated fully to create a cosmic treasure.
The Emperor sat cross-legged beside the furnace, intently watching the changes in the C'tan and the furnace fire. The reddish flames illuminated his dark brown face in a deep red. He constantly rubbed his fingers, his face full of anticipation and eagerness.
The Emperor, while proficient in biotechnology, was also a Forging Master. Many divine weapons and sharp tools in human history originated from his hands.
Seeing such precious materials, he naturally felt an irresistible urge to personally forge them.
Blazkowicz and Valdor, meanwhile, stood aside. Lacking forging talent, their initial novelty wore off, and they went to exchange martial arts instead.
Time passed quickly; it took a full terran year of Sintara and the Emperor working in shifts to melt the physical laws into a plasma.
"Let me! Let me!"
When the physical laws were completely melted, the old one hastily came forward with a frame, performing the sacred vessel blessing, pouring the bright, scorching quark-gluon plasma into it.
"Blazkowicz Novick." she cried out, summoning the future owner of the artifact.
Blazkowicz heard the call and arrived almost instantly. Valdor hadn't even reacted before the person he was sparring with vanished.
"Blood... your blood."
Sintara was extremely urgent, her voice trembling with excitement as she held the frame high.
An indestructible armor was about to be born in its hands; it couldn't remain calm. The Emperor beside it also rose; at such a critical moment, no forging master could remain calm.
Blazkowicz did not hesitate or question; the Crucible Sword sliced across his palm, and red blood flowed out.
"Inject the soul!" The old one hummed softly, and holy light emanated from her mouth, enveloping Blazkowicz's blood.
As the incantation was recited, the blood disappeared, transforming into a pure energy that fell into the quark-gluon plasma.
A mental imprint was branded within it, emerging from the plasma, a vivid crimson, identical to the imprint on Blazkowicz's chest.
"Hurry and get out of the way; you're not needed for now."
After completing the ritual, Sintara impatiently urged Blazkowicz to leave, then carried the frame to the anvil, beginning the next crucial step.
"What are you still waiting for?" The Emperor growled, seeing the Void Dragon's reluctant expression, his voice full of temptation: "The future is already set; Blazkowicz will face the Chaos Gods, which means you'll have a part in it too."
The Void Dragon suddenly lowered its head, looked at the Emperor, and then no longer hesitated, injecting concepts into the plasma.
"Immortality! This object shall be indestructible." Its angry roar echoed, and green lightning condensed above its head, striking into the cast iron pot, engraving physical law concepts:
"Eternity, this object shall exist forever."
"Insight, this object shall perceive all."
Three conceptual thunderbolts fell, and the quark-gluon plasma roiled, reaching the limit of what it could bear.
The Void Dragon nodded contentedly, reining in its power, controlling the furnace fire more precisely, and throwing itself enthusiastically into the work.
After the Emperor's guidance, it suddenly saw the light, feeling the world expand in an instant—
If I'm not having a good time, I'll make sure you have an even worse time!
Thinking about the future, its iron fist, inscribed with conceptual laws, striking the faces of Chaos Gods or other C'tan, the Void Dragon almost laughed out loud in its secret glee.
The old one quickly moved, taking out the plasma and placing it on the anvil. The Emperor immediately stepped forward, ready to forge the armor together.
The two forge masters exchanged glances, standing on either side of the anvil, their hands enveloped in psychic energy, shaping the rough mold of the armor.
Once the rough mold was formed, it was time for the final forging stage.
"Soul Forging Method." Sintara spoke, demonstrating the old one's forging technique to the Emperor: "We only need to hammer blessings, and the raw material will take the most suitable form according to the owner's imprint."
The Emperor's dark eyes lit up.
"Come on!" He let out a low growl, slowly pulling his clasped hands apart, a psychic energy-condensed forging hammer in his hands.
The old one took pure holy water from its dimensional pocket and poured it onto the armor's rough mold. No steam rose; the water merged into it, and the temperature began to drop rapidly.
Seizing the moment, they swung their arms, wielding their forging hammers and striking down on the rough mold!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Sparks flew between the anvil and the hammers. The forging hammers fell continuously, forging the raw material, shaping it into its unique form.
The Emperor's psychic forging hammer fell, chanting psychic blessings, injecting his own will into it, restraining all Daemons and evil spirits.
The old one chanted softly, infusing the armor with soul in an ancient language:
"My hammer rises—truth blazes through steel's veins,
Your hammer crashes—will fractures into bone;
Hammer-song shatters the twilight of dying gods,
The Slayer's fury ignites with every thunderous strike."
"The armor we forge burns with the power to defy all gods—a crucible of wrath, forged for the one true Slayer."
With each call and strike, psychic blessings were inscribed into every atom, and molecules gradually gathered and took shape.
The Emperor's long hair was tied back, and he swung the iron hammer, sweating profusely. Hot beads of sweat rolled down, his dark brown skin gleaming in the firelight.
The old one's fiery red scales burst open, her mouth stretched wide, exhaling scorching breath, tirelessly striking down with her hammer.
They sweated profusely, yet felt no fatigue, the excitement in their eyes growing ever stronger, watching the Slayer armament take shape bit by bit under their hammers.
The sound of hammers echoed for two full years. When the final hammer fell, the last component of the armor was forged, lying quietly on the anvil.
Under the old one's encouraging gaze, the Emperor took it down and attached it to the armor's left shoulder, his eyes filled with satisfaction.
The armor was identical to what he had envisioned, perfectly suited for Blazkowicz, born for him.
Forged from C'tan fragments, with a sci-fi appearance, it also bore the psychic blessings of the old one and himself, blending savagery and violence, a flawless transcendent creation.
"The Praetor Suit."
The Emperor reached out and caressed the armor, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. The reflection of a great existence was cast into this desperate universe.
_________
It's the Dark Ages armor but for convenience sake it will still be called Praetor Suit.