The Mistress gasped for breath on the command throne, the sanguine chains and iron cables injected into her body creating a horrifying sight.
The bald man chanted a low incantation, and the power of the Blood God permeated the air, binding, controlling, and enslaving the Mistress, who was also the machine spirit of the Conqueror.
She struggled in agony, but ultimately, it was in vain.
"She is my slave now," said the bald man—Erebus, the Hand of Fate.
Kossolax's face twisted.
This was his ship, his Conqueror, and now he felt like a guest.
As for taking it back from Erebus' hands…
Erebus had already demonstrated his strength; he effortlessly summoned four Greater daemons, crushed the crew controlled by the Mistress, and easily bound the Mistress, forcing her to submit to Erebus.
And the Blood God stood with Erebus. The Blood God even dragged Angron back into the Warp to clear the way for Erebus.
Kossolax sneered.
Now, both the Mistress and he were merely Erebus' slaves.
The enormous, multi-limbed crimson beast with a child's face, brought by Erebus, seemed to sense Kossolax's hidden anger towards Erebus and moved closer to Kossolax.
Kossolax glanced at the beast, then casually reached out and rubbed the shriveled, blood-stained head of the child-like face.
"He seems to quite like me," Kossolax said, looking at Erebus.
"It doesn't have emotions like 'liking'," Erebus mocked. "Anger and madness, it only has these two emotions, and it should only have these two emotions, just like a World Eater."
Kossolax showed no reaction to Erebus' mockery.
He was adept at suppressing anger; he could even control his Butcher's Nails, let alone Erebus' taunts.
Moreover, he had long been accustomed to obscurity and bowing before others.
"What do you want with the Conqueror?" Kossolax asked.
The Conqueror was incredibly powerful; she was a Gloriana-class Battleship, a Primarch among warships, the throne of the entire World Eaters Legion.
Erebus taking the Conqueror surely implied a grand scheme.
"Are you going to attack Terra? Kill the False Emperor and sit on the Golden Throne yourself?"
"Or attack Baal? Make Sanguinius' descendants bleed in agony?"
"Or perhaps Ultramar? To avenge the Word Bearers' ancient grudge and burn the Ultramarines' homeworld?"
Kossolax's questions left Erebus frozen.
What was all this? Sitting on the Golden Throne himself? Attacking Baal and Ultramar?
He, Erebus, was already bold enough to even face Saint Doraemon.
But to simultaneously face the Emperor, Sanguinius, and Guilliman…
"I don't want to face the wrath of Sanguinius and Guilliman simultaneously again," Erebus said with a chilling tone, believing Kossolax was provoking him.
Kossolax laughed at the remark: "The age of the Primarchs is over."
Dead silence filled the heavy air.
Erebus glared at Kossolax, and even the Mistress on the throne glared at Kossolax.
"Don't you know that the Primarchs have returned?" Erebus asked.
"…Really?" This time, it was Kossolax's turn to be stunned.
Facing the gazes of Erebus and the Mistress, Kossolax was silent for a moment before saying:
"I haven't paid much attention to galactic intelligence; I've focused my main energy on military matters."
Erebus was speechless for a moment; he knew this little Chaos Lord was unreliable, but he hadn't expected him to be this unreliable.
But he wasn't entirely worthless. He did have some intelligence, for a World Eater.
He had, by luck, seized the Conqueror, and then, using the Conqueror's name, he had rallied eight warbands, proclaiming himself Regent of the World Eaters.
Although the title was false, the power of the eight warbands and the Conqueror were real.
Erebus could transform the Conqueror into a new slaughterhouse.
The Conqueror was powerful enough. Although Erebus' Blessed Lady, as an Abyss-class vessel, was not inferior in size and firepower to a Gloriana-class Battleship,
the Gloriana-class Battleship was a Primarch's personal vessel, a throne gifted by the Emperor to the Primarchs, the mother that carried the Legion.
On a transcendent, deeper conceptual level, the Gloriana was irreplaceable.
Moreover, using a ship as a slaughterhouse could circumvent Saint Doraemon from directly entering the ship's interior through his anywhere door.
Erebus organized the known information, guessing that the red-pink wooden door required a map for precise teleportation.
The Conqueror's interior was twisted to the extreme, and its map had long ceased to exist, which could prevent Saint Doraemon from throwing another planet-destroying bomb inside.
But he needed time—time to control those eight warbands and the Conqueror, and time to transform them.
He had to find a way, a good way, to delay Saint Doraemon's advance.
He would send an assassin… This assassin's skill might not be the strongest, but when it came to annoying people, he was truly unmatched.
Khorne was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath without end.
He painfully struggled to wake from his dream.
Khorne seemed to have had a nightmare, vaguely hearing a soul calling for help in his dream.
But Khorne couldn't remember the dream clearly; his mind was simply a mess.
Ding-dong—
Just then, the room's doorbell rang.
This room originally belonged to Macarius' adjutant, so it was naturally equipped with a doorbell.
However, few people on the Light Lord would actually use it now.
Seth would kick open the door to find him, Titus would push the door open, and the Raven Guard would even mysteriously appear in Khorne's room without needing to push the door.
The only person who would adhere to such etiquette was…
He climbed up from the table—the bed in this room was ridiculously large, and Khorne couldn't stand it, so he slept on the table.
Khorne didn't need to wear his power armor; with a surge of flesh and blood, the daemon possessing Khorne directly spat out the power armor, covering Khorne's body.
Then he pushed open the door and saw the warrior in purple power armor standing before him.
Solaq, a Primaris warrior who claimed to be a son of Rogal Dorn, stood before Khorne and performed an aquila salute with an elegant posture.
"I am a traitor, yet you still show me such courtesy," Khorne chuckled darkly. "Do you expect me to praise the False Emperor?"
"Courtesy is not only respect for others but also self-restraint," Solaq said earnestly, without being angered by Khorne. "Pride that cannot be restrained will only turn into arrogance and corruption."
Khorne chuckled two or three more times. He often suspected that Solaq's gene-seed came from an acquaintance of his, an Emperor's Children from the Great Crusade era.
The style was somewhat similar, but Solaq was much more naive.
"Lord Alexander invites you to a meeting."
This time, Khorne gave a bitter smile.
"I am a traitor with the Butcher's Nails; is it really necessary for me to participate in such meetings?"
Saint Doraemon often gave Khorne tasks related to daily management for no particular reason.
"You are the only one on the entire ship with Legion-level management experience."
Solaq said to Khorne as they walked towards the bridge:
"Especially since we are already quite a distance from Baal. Even if we use the Webway, it would require teleporting with an anywhere door more than twice. It would be too troublesome to hand daily affairs over to Lord Dante."
"We can only ask you, Lord Titus, and Lord Seth, those with management experience, to take some trouble."
Khorne responded to Solaq with silence.
The two walked to the bridge and entered.
Most of the people inside the bridge had already arrived: Alexander, the captains of various companies, Ms. Reyna representing Saint Doraemon's chosen and the Cadia 184th Regiment, and Ahriman, who served as a regular consultant.
Ahriman was clearly fiddling with his spells again. His muscular arms swept across the sky, weaving a sparkling star map.
After Khorne and Solaq took their seats, Ahriman nodded gently to them, then saluted Alexander and began to speak:
"With the help of Saint Doraemon's Staff of Seeking, we were able to pinpoint Erebus' location."
As he spoke, Ahriman waved his hand lightly, and a red dot appeared on the star map. This red dot appeared intermittently in the starry sky, tracing an irregular, chaotic, and patternless trajectory.
"Erebus must have, to some extent, discovered the mechanism of the Staff of Seeking. He frequently uses his ritual dagger to shuttle back and forth between the Warp and the material universe, never staying in one location for too long, which has, to some extent, interfered with our positioning."
"Besides his ritual dagger, Erebus also seems to have acquired some powerful ship. The power of that ship itself is so immense that our divination cannot ascertain its true form."
"Can't you pinpoint the exact location of that ship?" Titus asked, looking at Ahriman.
"It's difficult. Erebus is not always on the ship. He constantly appears throughout the galaxy using his ritual dagger, interfering with the Staff of Seeking's positioning. Furthermore, the ship itself is constantly moving. The two factors combined create a chaotic mess; we simply don't know when Erebus is on the ship and when he isn't."
"If we could know the true form of that ship, and who else is on board, we should be able to pinpoint it using the Staff of Seeking in conjunction with divination."
"…" Khorne stared intently at the red dot on the star map woven by Ahriman.
Some of those red dots grew increasingly fervent and bright in Khorne's eyes, vaguely creating a resonance with him.
"Lorgala Sarine."
Khorne suddenly growled, a bloodthirsty, infinitely furious smile spreading across his lips:
"It's the Conqueror."
"Erebus has enslaved the Conqueror."