"How can you still be alive?"
"Have you truly become a phantom?!"
Karn's voice was filled with terror and disbelief.
He had guessed what the shadow was, but he also sensed that the shadow's condition was somewhat strange, far weaker than he remembered, and it didn't seem to have a material body.
More like... a shadow cast by some Warp entity onto the material universe?
Karn couldn't tell. After all, he wasn't a Thousand Sons, he had no daemonology knowledge and was only making a judgment based on instinct.
The shadow ignored Karn, his body began to writhe, dragging the surrounding darkness as he rushed deeper into the corridor.
But Titus raised his Chainsword and stood resolutely in front of the dark shadow.
The shadow was like the embodiment of fear in the mortal world, yet Titus showed not a hint of fear.
"You are... inno... cent." The shadow's words were fragmented.
"It would be truly sinful for me to let you pass," Titus growled softly. "What exactly are you? What is your purpose?"
"..Sinner."
"..Thief."
"..Mission."
Fragmented and insane words spilled from the shadow's mouth, and Titus couldn't understand them at all.
Then, the shadow's blood-red eyes suddenly stared intently at Titus, as if he saw something in Titus.
"..Roboute Guilliman." The shadow pointed at Titus with a claw, as if he saw the shadow of the Ultramarines' gene-father in Titus.
"My Father?" Titus frowned, not knowing what this shadow had to do with his gene-father.
"..Second Imperium, Regent." The shadow let out a mocking cackle.
"Second... Imperium?" Titus gave the shadow a strange look, not understanding the meaning of the term.
"Ambitious." The shadow mumbled incoherently.
"Slander." Titus furrowed his brows.
The shadow let out another series of strange cackles, seemingly mocking Titus.
Before Titus could react, the shadow charged at him.
The shadow was in front of Titus in the blink of an eye, and a sharp, hideous roar came from his body.
"Must... deliver atonement."
The frenzied roar made Titus' body numb. He stiffly raised his arm, trying to block the shadow's claws.
But the claws were so sharp, they almost instantly cut through Titus' master-crafted Chainsword, which he had used for many years.
Titus didn't hesitate, directly throwing the broken sword at the shadow, then quickly picked up his bolter and unleashed fire at the shadow.
But the shadow was even faster than the bolter, dodging the broken sword and the bolter in a flash, about to rush past Titus.
"Next time, get a better weapon!"
"Where's your Ultramarines' reliquary?"
Karn roared.
He took a moment to finally dig himself out of the wall, wielding bloodson as he killed his way to the shadow's side.
The sharp bloodson hummed, and the Chainsword made of mica dragon teeth slashed at the shadow.
It seemed that in the shadow's eyes, Titus was innocent, and Karn was guilty, so he attacked Karn with even more ruthless and deadly force.
He turned at a speed Karn couldn't keep up with, his claws stabbing directly at Karn.
But Karn didn't dodge or flinch, crashing into the claws.
He let out a savage growl, his chest pierced by the claws.
But Karn also used this to close in on the shadow, he was close enough to see the shadow's head hidden beneath the darkness.
He slashed directly at the shadow's head.
The shadow let out a terrifying roar, but didn't even move his head, merely extending another claw to easily block Karn's axe.
The shadow let out a disdainful, twisted cackle —
Bang!!!
A raven-like cry of doom seemed to ring out, the sharp and piercing sound of a large-caliber steel needle tearing through the air.
The steel needle pierced Karn's left collarbone, shooting towards the shadow's head that Karn had pointed out with his Chainsword.
His breathing was even, steady, and light as air.
Wind, temperature, gravity, and even the density of Karn's flesh were all factored into his calculations.
The needle sniper rifle, so familiar to him, was in good condition, the trigger intimately pressed against his finger.
He then applied slight pressure to the trigger with his finger.
"Blood God above." Karn gritted his teeth and uttered this sentence, then added, "Saint Doraemon above, and the False Emperor is also above, damn it."
His chest was pierced by the shadow's claws, and his collarbone was pierced by the large-caliber steel needle of the Raven Guard hidden in the dark.
If not for the Furnace of Belisarius constantly healing him, he probably would have fallen here.
The shadow struggled back a few steps, his claws weakly pulling out of Karn's chest.
A large-caliber steel needle was embedded in his head, constantly oozing thick black mist like blood.
Then a sharp mechanical sound came from the steel needle, and a barely perceptible crack suddenly appeared on the steel needle.
Grey-black dust, golden powder, and silver liquid burst out, diffusing into the air, and also directly implanted into the shadow's body along the steel needle.
"Damn it, untouchable ashes mixed with Astropathic Beacon dust? And infused with the Water of Thirst from Baal? That's really dark." The daemon Raum, parasitic in Karn's body, exclaimed with disgust, "How afraid was he of not killing the target??"
Thanks to the three gods, the Raven Guard who had been hiding in the dark had guessed Karn's thoughts, understood Karn's planned tactics, and seized the opportunity Karn had created.
But this breathtakingly brilliant marksmanship, was it really him?
How did Saint Doraemon find this guy?
Karn looked at the steel needle mostly embedded in the shadow's head, covering his wound as he pondered.
Large-caliber steel needles, untouchable ashes, Astropathic Beacon dust, Water of Thirst. Any normal target suffering such damage should have died.
But... but Karn knew that what was in front of him was not a normal target.
The shadow twisted his body, reaching out as if in a spasm, grabbing the steel needle in his head, and pulling it out with a fierce tug.
The shadow let out a sharp roar, and all the thick black mist that flowed out like blood drilled back into his head, and in the blink of an eye, he was back to normal.
Karn watched this scene, gasping for breath.
This was entirely within his expectations. If one would die from a nail piercing their head, then Angron would have died long ago.
But they had bought enough time. Sol should have run out of the communication interference range and reported what was happening here.
The shadow twisted his body hideously, his crimson eyes looking towards the hidden position of the Raven Guard.
"You are... inno... cent."
Although he had been headshotted, the shadow seemed to have no hostility towards the Raven Guard.
Then his crimson eyes looked at Karn.
"You... are... guilty." He growled.
"You too." Karn took a deep breath, staring at the shadow.
"..Yes." The shadow nodded hideously, about to swing his claws at Karn, and then...
A pinkish-red wooden door suddenly appeared between the two, and Alexander, with Nobita, stepped out of the door, standing between them.
Alexander's gaze swept over the unconscious Seth, the panting Titus, Karn with hideous wounds on his body, and the Raven Guard who seemed to be annoyed at not killing the shadow.
Then, he looked at the shadow who was raising his claws.
"Be careful, Lord." Titus cried out urgently, picking up his bolter and trying to block Alexander.
Then, to Titus' bewildered gaze, the shadow slowly lowered his claws, curled up his body, and writhed in front of Alexander.
He pulled out a spear wrapped in bloody flesh from his body.
The spear seemed to be Eldar in style, shimmering with terrifying brilliance, like it housed the power of a dying sun.
The spear shaft was wrapped in a layer of smooth, hairless skin, seemingly freshly peeled, with a wailing soul faintly visible on it.
The Spear of Twilight, or rather, the Fourth old crone sword.
This was originally the weapon of the Eldar Prince Ere'iel, but now...
Alexander looked at the Spear of Twilight, wrapped in bloody skin, with a hint of disdain.
A series of fragmented words spilled from the shadow's mouth, but Alexander roughly understood.
Prince Ere'iel and the Spear of Twilight were eternally bound together, and a large part of the soul of the Iyanden Aeldari hero was fused into the Spear of Twilight, inseparable.
So he brought Prince Ere'iel and the Spear of Twilight back together.
".." Alexander looked at the wailing soul of Prince Ere'iel on the Spear of Twilight, feeling a moment of speechless silence.
He sighed, then waved his hand, signaling the shadow to look at the mess he had made: "Since you're here to deliver the old crone sword, why couldn't you speak properly?"
Another series of fragmented and insane words spilled from the shadow's mouth, but Alexander still understood.
"I don't know how to explain, after all, I'm just a madman." The shadow said.
Indeed, this one was a genuine madman, completely incapable of logical thought. The fact that he hadn't killed Titus, Seth, and Karn was already the result of a great effort to restrain himself.
"More importantly, your body has long since died, and now you don't have a body that can carry you to talk to them?" Alexander's expression furrowed.
Another series of fragmented words spilled from the shadow's mouth. When talking about not having a body to house his power, the shadow seemed to glance at Titus.
"Hmm, you can't stay in reality for too long? Alright, go back to the Warp."
"Try hard to steal the Fifth old crone sword as well."
Alexander nodded at the shadow.
The shadow's body stiffened, and he quickly drilled back into the Warp, disappearing without a trace.
"Lord..." Titus let out a deep breath, unable to help but ask, "What was that exactly? Some kind of daemon? So powerful."
"Could it be..." He recalled some rumors he had heard: "Could it be a daemon Primarch?"
"Ah no, don't worry, that wasn't a daemon Primarch." Alexander shook his head.
Titus breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was Konrad Curze." Alexander said.
That's even worse than a daemon Primarch!!!
Alexander sat in the chair in his room, caressing the Twilight Spear that Konrad Curze had "stolen" from Prince Ere'iel.
Ere'iel's soul was wailing and screaming on the spear, and his skin had been flayed by Konrad Curze and wrapped around the weapon.
This was because the Twilight Spear and Prince Ere'iel's soul were eternally bound, and Konrad Curze wasn't a master in the Psyker field, so he could only bring Ere'iel and the Twilight Spear back together—in a rather portable manner.
Alexander picked up this fourth old crone sword, which was adorned with a soul-ring, and handed it to Nobita, who was beside him.
Once the old crone sword was in his hand, it naturally transformed into a brass bullet, which he loaded into the revolver at his waist.
Then, Alexander cast his gaze around the room.
This room once belonged to Macarius; compared to the rooms of his captains, it appeared rustic and even cramped.
It was said that this was because Macarius' mind always roamed among the vast stars, so much so that he didn't notice the narrowness of his physical surroundings.
Whether this statement was true or not, Alexander was quite satisfied with the room.
Just like a hive city, a somewhat cramped room like this actually gave Alexander a sense of security and warmth.
However, such a room was a bit cramped for Sanguinius and Guilliman.
Especially Sanguinius' pure white wings seemed to have nowhere to rest.
Guilliman, sitting beside him, had his cheek accidentally brushed by a feather, and his expression suggested it was a little itchy.
Both of them had left Terra a few days before Alexander.
Guilliman led the Indomitus Crusade fleet, using Terra as its core, to begin reclaiming the surrounding planets, and it had already shown initial success.
The Indomitus Crusade fleet had broken through the cage the Black Legion attempted to set up and successfully advanced into the stars.
Sanguinius, on the other hand, went to Baal, using it as a core to reclaim the planets in the Imperium Nihilus that had fallen into chaos.
He had also achieved some results, with the Scarlet Scar sector largely liberated.
They came to the Light Lord through the anywhere door for their regular three-person mini-meeting.
Sanguinius was in good spirits, with a slight smile on his lips and a very gentle demeanor.
Primarchs were ultimately forged for war, and war was what nourished them most; Sanguinius had been fighting on the front lines in the Imperium Nihilus, so his condition was naturally very good.
Guilliman, however, still carried some fatigue, not much better than when he was on Terra.
This was because the administration and logistics of the Imperium Nihilus were largely handled by Dante, who was working hard overtime on Baal; to a great extent, Dante was the true Regent of the Imperium Nihilus, and Sanguinius was at most Dante's Grand General of the Dark Crusade.
But within the Imperial heartlands, Tigurius and Brother Calgar were still guarding Ultramar, and Imperial bureaucrats led by Tieron, though capable of some work, were ultimately mortals, so Guilliman still couldn't escape administrative duties.
Guilliman, in a tone like a Cogitator-servitor outputting information, quickly and concisely explained the current situation of the Indomitus Crusade.
"Very smoothly. The anywhere door allows us to bypass the Warp and strike directly at the Traitors' core."
"The Adeptus Mechanicus are now praying to Alexander, to Saint Doraemon; honestly, the effect is better than praying to the Emperor or the Omnissiah."
"Cawl designed a Knight, named the Mini Dora-class—though its size is not mini at all. He explained that compared to Saint Doraemon's Gloriana, even a Knight appears mini."
"Seriously, watching that giant blue metal raccoon-cat crush the battlefield is a huge mental shock, but the effect is excellent; the enemy's machine malfunction rate skyrockets, and our machine spirit is greatly pleased."
"The Custodes' performance is also good—I mean those who have tilled the land with Alexander—they have learned humility and cooperate well with the Space Marines."
"As for Primaris… the Emperor was right to create twenty Legions, and Cawl is right to create Space Marines using traitor Legion gene-seed."
Guilliman couldn't help but exclaim:
"Many planets actually haven't fallen to Chaos; it's just that their governors believe the Imperium has ended and are trying to fish in troubled waters, seizing the opportunity to declare independence."
"I sent out several Primaris sons of Konrad Curze disguised as Raven Guard; in less than a week, the flayed corpses of those planetary governors and their entire families were hung from the spires of their governor's palaces, and driven by fear, these planets quickly declared renewed loyalty to the Imperium."
"My side of things is much simpler." Sanguinius smiled gently and casually pulled out three thick stacks of documents, two of which he handed to Alexander and Guilliman.
"These are Dante's compiled reports on recent political and military affairs in the Imperium Nihilus; you can read them yourselves if you're interested."
Guilliman's expression stiffened, but Sanguinius ignored it and continued:
"Let me tell you something you might be interested in, two things in total."
"First, the Conqueror has reappeared in the galaxy."
These words made Alexander and Guilliman both look at Sanguinius.
The Conqueror, a Gloriana-class Battleship of the World Eaters Legion, the former flagship of Angron, the Red Angel.
Alexander instantly recalled the Emperor's prophecy at that time:
The Red Angel will lead the way.
"Now the Conqueror belongs to Kossolax the Oathbreaker."
"Who?" Alexander slightly raised his eyebrows: "Kossolax what?"
Never heard of him! Is there such a person?
Alexander pondered for a moment, vaguely remembering having heard this name in his previous life, but couldn't recall it clearly.
"Kossolax the Oathbreaker."
"A minor figure, a Chaos Lord, who was just an ordinary soldier in the World Eaters' Third Assault Company during the Great Crusade; after Istvaan III, the World Eaters suffered heavy officer losses, allowing him to be promoted to adjutant of the Third Company, but he was still a minor officer who wasn't particularly favored."
"He believes that everyone who knew his origins is dead, but he cannot hide it from my prophetic abilities."
Sanguinius explained:
"Around the time of Cadia's fall, he somehow captured the Conqueror and, taking advantage of the Great Rift's opening, absorbed a large number of World Eaters warbands and various miscellaneous traitors."
"Now, he calls himself the Regent of the World Eaters Legion and leads the Conqueror rampant through the Imperium Nihilus—but it's really just small-time mischief. If I happen to encounter him, I'll capture the Conqueror and let you play with it as a flagship."
Alexander nodded slightly; Sanguinius was right, this was indeed not a big deal.
Just a minor Chaos Lord who happened to get lucky and seize the Conqueror.
If Sanguinius didn't happen to encounter him, Alexander could also, when he had time, take Khârn to retrieve the Conqueror; after all, if we're talking about the World Eaters Regent, Khârn was the genuine article, and there was an old acquaintance of Khârn's on that ship.
"What about the second thing?" Alexander continued to ask.
"It's also a matter of moderate importance, from the Netherworld Star System," Sanguinius said in a clear voice.
"Netherworld?" Alexander's face showed a strange expression; that entire star system had been burned to glass by Dante using the Necron construct 'Starflame,' with not a single living person left—
Wait, Alexander suddenly remembered that there was still a Necron tomb world in the Netherworld, ruled by the Mephrit Dynasty Overlord, Zalathusa the Unspeakable.
"Representatives of the Necron Overlord Zalathusa visited Baal. They claimed it was a greeting to their neighbors, hoping our actions wouldn't disturb their long slumber and that we would respect their land and property."
Sanguinius said softly:
"At the same time, they brought two wanted posters, hoping we could assist in apprehending two despicable, bastardly thieves who had shamed the glory of the Unspeakable and betrayed the Overlord's grace."
"Anrakyr the Traveller and Trazyn the Infinite visited the Netherworld a while ago, and Zalathusa, in his capacity as Overlord and ruler of the Mephrit Dynasty, hosted them."
The Mephrit Dynasty's Overlord was assassinated by passing Eldar before he even woke up, and the remaining Overlords, leaderless, began to fight amongst themselves. When Zalathusa woke up, he found that he was the only Overlord left in the entire Mephrit Dynasty, and inexplicably became the ruler of the entire dynasty.
Zalathusa was relatively normal among the Necrons; besides disliking others calling him by name, he had no other issues and no intention of expanding, staying in his tomb world with his entire dynasty.
"After the reception, Anrakyr the Traveller and Trazyn the Infinite left the Netherworld Star System. But after they left, Zalathusa suddenly discovered that the 'Starflame,' the Mephrit Dynasty's stellar energy utilization machine at the core of the Netherworld Star System, had disappeared."
"Who's the culprit? So hard to guess!" Alexander couldn't help but quip.
Trazyn was also a notorious thief within the Necrons; if Zalathusa's mind-device wasn't broken, his first reaction would certainly be to suspect Trazyn.
However, what was the situation with Anrakyr the Traveller?
How did he get mixed up with Trazyn?
These two had no connection in Alexander's impression, did they?
"Do we need to cooperate with Zalathusa to catch Trazyn and Anrakyr?" Sanguinius asked, looking at Alexander and Guilliman.
"In Cawl's report, Trazyn is a very valuable collaborator."
"Anrakyr has also demonstrated his value as a collaborator."
Guilliman said in a rational voice:
"Zalathusa appears to be less valuable."
"Not catching them?" Sanguinius asked.
"No, cooperate with Zalathusa to catch them, provide him with facilities for catching them, but we should not directly participate."
Guilliman smiled and said:
"Then we will help Anrakyr and Trazyn escape Zalathusa's pursuit."
A very Guilliman-esque course of action.
"Figure out why those two are together; I think there might be something to it," Alexander said to Sanguinius.
But he actually didn't pay too much attention to this matter; he had other, more important things to focus on.
"Since your Expeditions have begun, I should also go hunt Erebus."
The Dark Side of the Imperium, Nagasaka System, Planet Heroshima.
Erebus, the Dark Apostle, Hand of Fate, and Spokesperson for the Gods, slowly walked upon the blood-soaked altar, chanting blasphemous and defiled incantations.
Slaughter was spreading beneath the eighty-eight-meter, eight-story, eight-tiered altar.
Dense crowds were roaring, abandoning all reason as they tore into each other.
Eight hundred eighty-eight million mortals had been captured here. Erebus used blasphemous incantations to awaken the primal lust for slaughter hidden in their blood, proclaiming that only the last warrior to survive would be granted the Gods' blessing and become the mortal vessel for blood, violence, and slaughter.
Thus, a cruel, utterly irrational slaughter began.
Mortals killed with swords, with stones, with fingernails, with broken bones, with teeth, with everything they could think of.
The slaughter lasted for eight days and eight nights. Corpses piled up like mountains, blood flowed into rivers, and skulls facing the sky formed the eight-pointed star of Chaos.
A distorted, burly man, heavily blessed by Khorne, roared as he fought a mutant that had already twisted into a three-headed hound.
The burly man roared and tore off two of the hound mutant's heads, while the hound mutant tore off one of his arms with its teeth.
Blood flowed incessantly. The burly man opened his bloody mouth and bit down on the hound mutant's head, using his sole remaining hand and arm to tear off the hound mutant's head.
He roared, a savage bellow, kneeling in the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, celebrating his victory.
However, at this moment, from the mountain of piled bodies, a young, slender boy suddenly emerged, plunging a grotesque bone spike into the burly man's neck.
"Why did you kill us! Why did you kill us?!"
"What did we do wrong?! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
An enraged roar erupted from the boy's mouth, his slender arms unleashing strength far beyond what his age should allow.
The burly man let out a savage howl, desperately tearing at the slender boy's body. The boy's leg was torn off, his torso ripped open, and his internal organs spilled out.
But his hands held the bone spike tightly, plunging it fiercely into the burly man's neck.
Gradually, the burly man let out a wail and fell into the sea of blood.
The broken-bodied boy lay on the burly man's corpse, barely alive, on the verge of death.
However, at this moment, blood began to flow from all the piled-up corpses. Endless blood wove into the terrifying runes of the Blood God Khorne, gathering around the dying, slender boy.
Blood rain fell from the sky, and countless war cries echoed from behind the veil of reality. daemons praised the slender boy's courage and the boundless slaughter.
The veil of reality became blurred. Countless Khorne daemons emerged from the Warp, pouring into the boy's slender body.
The boy struggled, wailed, and roared, his body gradually becoming twisted and grotesque, absorbing the surrounding corpses and blood to continuously swell. The boy's body and the corpses melded together, adhering to each other through the demon-possessed, mutated body, like a grotesque creature formed by the fusion of dozens, hundreds, or thousands of out-of-control Chaos spawn.
Hundreds of distorted arms extended from this grotesque creature, each holding a bone spike possessed by a Khorne demon. Crimson flesh formed his body, towering dozens of meters high, each muscle like a blood-stained corpse. The boy's emaciated head was embedded in the giant beast's skull, his eyes filled with madness and the lust for slaughter.
Erebus looked with satisfaction at this grotesque, bloody Chaos giant beast born through the massive ritual he had constructed.
As the Hand of Fate, his Chaos artistry had long reached its peak over ten thousand years, and creating such bloody Chaos giant beasts was effortless for him.
The slaughter of eight hundred million mortals, using their corpses and the final victor as a vessel, attracted eighty-eight thousand Khorne daemons to possess it, forming this terrifying giant beast.
The only problem was that with so many daemons crammed into the same body, the boy's original will was naturally torn to shreds, utterly insane, no different from a Chaos spawn in will, a pure beast, with only the primal desire to spread slaughter remaining.
Erebus had created four such terrifying giant beasts, each blessed by Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaanesh, and Nurgle, respectively. However, the two Chaos giant beasts blessed by Slaanesh and Nurgle were relatively weaker.
There were even more blasphemous, defiled Chaos corruptions entrenched on this planet, transforming the entire planet into Erebus' killing ground, almost impregnable.
But creating these four Chaos giant beasts and corrupting this entire planet was not Erebus' ultimate goal.
Such a massive sacrifice was meant to appease the Gods and to speak directly with them, but...
Tzeentch's reply was: "Busy, in a hurry to exercise, squatting. I believe in you, remember to exercise daily and always be hopeful!"
Slaanesh stated that allowing Lucius to act was already his bottom line, and asked Erebus not to contact him again, as he feared Saint Doraemon might misunderstand.
Nurgle indicated... Mortarion prevented Nurgle from replying to Erebus, because no messaging was allowed during class. He also threatened that if Erebus disturbed Professor Mortarion's lecture again, he would let him taste the Barbarus Black Hand.
This made Erebus somewhat red-hot.
He was the Hand of Fate, once the most favored by the Gods, the mastermind behind the Great Heresy, the great Son of Chaos, Erebus.
Now, among the Four Gods, Slaanesh and Nurgle had explicitly rejected Erebus, and Tzeentch was busy with his own affairs and could only offer limited help.
Erebus could only place his hopes on the last divine lord, the Blood God Khorne, to provide him with assistance.
The intense scent of blood permeated Erebus' surroundings. The powerful Warp fluctuations generated by the sacrifice of eight hundred million people converged into a crimson storm, hovering over the firmament, dyeing everything in sight orange-red.
The smell of blood was so pungent, so sharp, that it made Erebus feel dizzy, his blood surging, his muscles aching.
In the crimson storm above the firmament, a grotesque and terrifying figure was reflected.
It was a blood-red, blood-soaked divine lord, sitting on the Brass Throne with a lame leg.
Seeing the limping Khorne, Erebus secretly thought, 'This is bad.'
The Blood God's condition also seemed somewhat unfavorable.
Damn it, why have all the Gods become like this?
Erebus was already prepared for Khorne to simply hang up the prayer.
"Speak!"
The Blood God's voice was deafening, making Erebus feel dizzy:
"I still have a brutal bloodbath to focus on!"
Khorne was referring to the intensifying battle in his thigh. The bullet transformed from the old crone sword was continuously transmitting the Emperor's power, and more and more bound entities were emerging from it, clashing with Khorne's demonic army. Khorne truly had no mind to focus on Erebus.
But Erebus' achievements were something Khorne had to acknowledge.
Leaving aside Erebus' role in instigating the Great Heresy, the much-loved Khârn also became Khorne's chosen through Erebus' efforts.
So, even though he didn't have much energy, Khorne still managed to spare a little attention for Erebus.
Erebus immediately felt that the Blood God was truly a loyal God, and he almost shed tears.
"My Master, the mightiest spirit, the furious spirit, your humble servant Erebus implores you to fulfill one of the rewards you promised ten thousand years ago."
This was Erebus' biggest trump card. The Gods had given him many promises for his deeds in the Great Heresy. Whenever Erebus needed it, he could ask the Gods to fulfill those promises.
".." The Blood God responded to Erebus with silence.
His silence made Erebus' heart pound.
"..That was a great, dignified warrior. He wounded my thigh, granting me endless war. What reason do I have to favor you?" the Blood God questioned.
"Precisely, my Master, that was a great existence, incomparably powerful."
Erebus hurriedly bowed and explained:
"I am challenging that one with courage, fighting to put that one in his rightful place."
"Fighting the strong with the weak, not giving up the fight because of weakness, isn't this your Eightfold Path of Blood?"
"Moreover, it was you who promised me for my achievements — — — — — —"
"My promise does not mean I must fulfill it." The Blood God growled, interrupting Erebus.
The air instantly solidified again. Erebus opened his mouth, completely speechless for a moment.
The Blood God seemed to realize that saying that wasn't very good.
He then spoke to Erebus: "I can give you help, to gain power to fight Saint Doraemon."
"But you must offer me a new, worthy champion to receive a blessing, just as you once offered me Khârn."
Angron and Skarbrand were dead, Khârn was left free by the Blood God. The Blood God needed a new chosen to carry out his will.
".." Erebus felt as uncomfortable as if he had eaten a piece of himself.
Many served the Blood God, and many were willing to embrace the Blood God, but few were worthy of the Blood God's blessing.
Because the Blood God did not allow cowardice, but courageous warriors rarely betrayed the False Emperor.
"I can only create opportunities for you." Erebus said as submissively as possible: "You still need to help me first."
The Blood God's mad laughter echoed in Erebus' ears. He seemed to be mocking Erebus.
"Alright." The Blood God growled: "I will provide help."
Erebus showed a joyful expression, bowing in gratitude for the Blood God's help.
But... a hint of cunning flashed in the Blood God's eyes.
He promised to help, but he didn't say that this help would only benefit Erebus.
Who between Saint Doraemon and Erebus would receive this help was still uncertain.
The Blood God only craved more brutal battles, more intense conflicts, and a new chosen to carry out his will.
His help would only intensify the conflict; nothing else mattered.
Ever since he snatched more domains of strategy and tactics from Tzeentch's realm, the Blood God felt his brain was getting sharper and sharper.