Khârn, Khorne's Chosen Khârn. Enchanted Khorne's Chosen Khârn. Enchanted Khorne Dora Double Chosen Khârn. Primaris Enchanted Khorne Dora Double Chosen Khârn.
Erebus could barely understand and accept these, viewing them as Khârn acquiring all possible power to seek vengeance.
But when the Psyker flame from the Emperor ignited on Gorechild, the chainaxe that once belonged to Angron, Erebus truly felt his brain burning.
The Emperor actually lent His Psyker power to Khârn, an out-and-out traitor, through those few parchments He personally wrote names on?!
If He could lend it to Khârn, why couldn't He lend it to him, Erebus? Wasn't he more adept at serving the Chaos Gods than Khârn?
He truly couldn't understand why Khârn could simultaneously gain the favor of the Blood God, Saint Doraemon, and the Emperor? What was he, Erebus, lacking compared to Khârn?
Of course, Khârn didn't leave Erebus any time to think.
The chain connected to Gorechild suddenly vibrated, and the Emperor's Psyker flame, along with the roaring chainaxe, spun continuously, burning along the chain all the way to Khârn's arm. Khârn took the opportunity to hurl Gorechild at the fleeing Erebus' back.
All of this happened in the blink of an eye for Erebus.
He wanted to dodge, but Khârn's speed was incredibly fast, far beyond what a normal human could achieve, and even many times faster than the Khârn Erebus remembered.
This was the simultaneous effect of high-efficiency pills and acceleration gears, a blessing from Saint Doraemon.
The tearing sound of the chainaxe ripping through flesh and the sizzling sound of the Emperor's fire burning flesh occurred simultaneously.
Gorechild crushed Erebus' power armor, tore open his back, pierced through the black carapace beneath the flesh, severed his spine, went through a pile of highly mutated internal organs, and directly passed through Erebus' body.
Khârn's arm suddenly exerted force, and the burning Emperor's fire had spread into his flesh. The Emperor's Psyker power was, after all, the bane of daemons. Khârn, who was deeply merged with a demon and had received immense blessings from the Blood God, felt a burning pain from the Emperor's fire that drilled into his body.
But neither he nor Raum cared about this pain.
Using the power transmitted through the chain, Erebus was forcefully pulled into mid-air, towards Khârn. Khârn also leaped from the gradually dissipating body of the Great Unclean One, and his mutated, clawed foot directly stomped on Erebus' head in mid-air, slamming Erebus heavily into the ground.
Erebus spat out a mouthful of blood and turned his head back in terror to look at Khârn.
He expected to see anger, hatred, and killing intent in Khârn's eyes.
But there was nothing. There was nothing in Khârn's eyes.
Only an unconcerned composure, a cold indifference, and a pitch-black stillness.
He cared for nothing else; deep in his heart, there was only utter emptiness. He had once tried to fill this void with anger, but it was merely drinking poison to quench thirst.
Now he confronted the intense emptiness and self-destructive tendencies within him. He stood there not because killing Erebus would bring him any pleasure, but simply because the primal urge for revenge and destruction drove him to utterly destroy Erebus.
For a fleeting moment, in Erebus' eyes, Khârn's dark pupils seemed to burn, like a cold black sun.
"I somewhat understand Sigismund now."
"I am emptiness, I am a weapon, I am nothing else. The man once named Khârn is long dead; now I am merely an instrument of vengeance and destruction."
"Nothing else, only vengeance."
Khârn exerted force with his arm, pulling Gorechild, which had passed through Erebus' body, out with a harsh yank.
"This is the lightest blow, for Loken. He was a good warrior, and should not have been killed by your despicable methods."
Khârn said with a surprisingly gentle tone.
"No!"
"Those were all destiny!"
"Predetermined destiny! I am merely the fulfiller of these destinies!"
"You cannot kill me, I am the Hand of Destiny, I am a Son of Chaos, I am one destined to be with the Gods!"
"Your only destiny is death." Khârn whispered, raising Gorechild, burning with the Emperor's fire, high in his hand.
"No!!!!" Erebus shrieked: "Save me!"
Khârn's Gorechild roared, swinging down directly towards Erebus' neck—
Shadows writhed as if alive, and a giant blade burning with an eerie blue flame extended from the shadows, heavily blocking Khârn's Gorechild.
"So it's you." Khârn growled, recognizing the origin of the Shadow Blade.
Khârn violently swung Gorechild, deflecting the Shadow Blade, and then swung his axe again at Erebus.
But he was, after all, momentarily held back. Erebus hastily rolled on the ground like a grotesque wild dog, barely dodging Khârn's deadly axe blow.
Khârn tried to pursue, but just then, the surrounding shadows writhed again, enveloping everything. The darkness deepened in an instant.
The pitch-black, horned and winged Shadow Lord flickered in and out of sight in the darkness. In a blink, his blade and Khârn's axe collided repeatedly. Khârn did not fall behind, and with the Emperor's flame burning on Gorechild, he even showed a tendency to become stronger with each clash.
Sweeping, smashing, stabbing, crushing, armor-piercing, hacking—Khârn wielded Gorechild, every move extremely lethal, every strike without any superfluous motion.
He was empty, devoid of anything, eliminating all that was unnecessary, leaving only the actions of vengeance.
The Shadow Blade was heavily parried by Khârn. The Shadow Lord failed to dodge in time and was cut open on the chest by Khârn, with an eerie flame spewing out.
The Shadow Lord seemed to realize that it was impossible to easily defeat Khârn at this moment. It chose another strategy.
The shadows suddenly expanded and writhed, and the shadow that always covered the Shadow Lord and also enveloped Khârn deepened.
Then, both the Shadow Lord and Khârn vanished from the ship's interior in an instant.
Erebus watched this scene with a twitching expression.
He knew that the Shadow Lord hadn't gotten rid of Khârn; he couldn't do such a thing.
He merely used his authority and shadows, taking advantage of Khârn's lack of understanding of his powers, to drag Khârn to another location, buying Erebus a brief moment of time.
Why only a brief moment?
Because Saint Doraemon had a faster way of moving than the Shadow Lord and Erebus. Even if Khârn was thrown into endless deep space, that one would surely be able to bring Khârn back.
Erebus didn't even dare to waste a single extra moment to heal his wounds. He scrambled, grabbed the ritual dagger from the ground, slashed a rift in mid-air, and plunged into it, crashing heavily onto the bridge's deck.
This startled Kossolax, because Erebus was indeed too heavily wounded.
His chest was pierced through, allowing one to see the scene behind through the bloody gaping hole. His internal organs were a chaotic mess, and his flesh was filled with ugly and terrifying burns. His spine was also severed at the waist, causing Erebus to only be able to writhe on the ground like a living maggot.
Seeing Erebus in such a state, the first thought that arose in Kossolax's mind was whether to kill Erebus now.
But the moment that thought emerged in his mind, Erebus on the ground suddenly raised his head and looked at him. A scorching Psyker lightning bolt instantly shot out, exploding in Kossolax's chest, directly blasting Kossolax away, making him fall to the ground.
"Foolish." Erebus sneered. He extended his only remaining hand and quickly summoned two or three grotesquely shaped daemons from the Warp, stuffing them into his empty chest. These daemons temporarily replaced some of Erebus' organs, allowing him to barely stand up.
Kossolax also clutched his chest, struggling to his feet, looking at Erebus with a twitching expression: "I didn't do anything yet."
"But your eyes betrayed your malice, boy. If you want to murder someone, hide your malice well and pretend to be a good person."
Erebus scoffed, then looked at the churning pool of blood. His expression suddenly tightened.
Titus and Karlaen's squad was very close to the bridge; in at most a dozen minutes, they would be fighting their way onto the bridge.
His expression suddenly darkened, and he twisted his head to look at Kossolax.
"Tell your fleet to stop fighting the Blood Angels."
Erebus' tone was cold and full of malice:
"Tell them to aim for the Conqueror and sink this Gloriana-class Battleship."
This was something Erebus had planned all along.
He would not leave the powerful vessel, the Conqueror, to Saint Doraemon.
But this order made Kossolax tremble, looking at Erebus in disbelief.
"What are you saying?"
Kossolax raised his voice:
"This is the great Conqueror, this is the World Eaters' mothership, the Legion's Gloriana-class Battleship."
"This is our throne, our blood, our home."
"And Captain Sarine's soul is also attached to it!"
"You—"
Erebus gave Kossolax a cold glance, and Kossolax's voice abruptly lowered.
The Hand of Destiny felt annoyed; he had no time to waste. If Lucius hadn't failed to stall long enough, preventing Erebus from fully gaining control over these World Eaters, why would he need this mere Kosso—Kosso-what-was-it?
Erebus had always disregarded the names of these minor figures; there was no place for them in the predetermined destiny planned by the Gods.
"Now, immediately issue the order to sink the Conqueror." Erebus told Kossolax in an undeniable tone.
This inconspicuous coward surely wouldn't dare—
"No!" Kossolax said.
Kossolax didn't know where he found the courage, or why he said 'no' to Erebus.
Did Erebus' severe injuries give Kossolax courage? Was it because he couldn't bear to lose the Conqueror, a ship he had gone to such lengths to acquire? Was it because he didn't want the respected Mistress Sarine to be harmed?
Or was it Mistress Sarine's earlier remark, "The true glory of the World Eaters lies in defiance," that influenced Kossolax? Or perhaps, the Regent of the World Eaters needed no reason to refuse to sink the Legion's Gloriana-class Battleship?
Kossolax himself wasn't entirely clear.
It was just that at that moment, the Butcher's Nails in his head buzzed slightly. Kossolax, who usually could resist the Butcher's Nails with willpower, somehow couldn't suppress the sudden surge of rage in his heart. He refused Erebus' demand as if he had lost his mind.
But once his reason returned, Kossolax instantly broke out in a cold sweat. He immediately understood that his refusal would surely enrage Erebus.
"Actually… there's no need… I'm not…" Kossolax's voice was a little low, and he stammered an explanation to Erebus.
"Fool, I didn't control your mind simply because I disdained to, not because I couldn't."
Erebus sneered:
"In the gods' game of chess, you don't even qualify as a pawn."
"Issue the order, sink the Conqueror."
Erebus used the Seducer's Whisper. He was a master of this art; even a Greater Daemon would be controlled by his undeniable tone, Psyker power, and will, instinctively acting on his instructions.
A mere Kossolax, an unknown Chaos Lord, would be utterly powerless before his Seducer's Whisper—
Screech!!!
The Chainsword shrieked, tearing directly through Erebus' face, cutting all the way to his chest, leaving a hideous wound on Erebus.
Erebus roared, stumbling back several steps, looking at Kossolax in disbelief.
The Butcher's Nails in Kossolax's head buzzed and roared. His expression was twisted and grotesque, his eyes bloodshot, filled with burning rage.
He was not controlled by Erebus' Seducer's Whisper.
"How could this be?" Erebus spat out a mouthful of blood, his body swaying, his eyes filled with confusion and hesitation.
Kossolax gritted his teeth, revealing a nearly ugly smile: "It feels… inferior to the Butcher's Nails."
Kossolax had only this one strength. Over the long ten thousand years, the rage brought by the Butcher's Nails had never controlled Kossolax, let alone Erebus' mere Seducer's Whisper.
But precisely because he had to divert his mental energy to resist Erebus' Seducer's Whisper, Kossolax, for the first time, couldn't completely suppress the Butcher's Nails.
The anger he had always suppressed was awakened by the roaring Butcher's Nails. A wildfire of rage almost drowned Kossolax's reason.
But it was also this rage that made Kossolax vaguely understand why he had instinctively refused Erebus' order to sink the Conqueror.
It was because he was angry.
Not just at Erebus, but also at Angron, at the False Emperor, at the Butcher's Nails... and even at this so-called fate that oppressed him, repeatedly snatching away the little glory he had painstakingly acquired.
Ten thousand years of bitterness and hardship, all the pain and struggle, everything turned into fuel for his rage, completely consuming Kossolax, ultimately driving him to a completely irrational, unplanned act of defiance.
He swung his axe at Erebus. He defied Erebus, defied this hand of fate that claimed to fulfill predetermined destiny, defied the fate in the gods' game of chess that left no place for him.
But that was all.
Blood gushed uncontrollably from Erebus' chest. The wound, recently healed by Malicious Art, was exposed to the air again. His fractured spine couldn't support his body, and he fell to the ground like a worm.
This made the Hand of Fate feel immense humiliation. This situation was completely unexpected to him.
A mere mortal, unworthy of a place in the gods' game, dared to defy his will.
"Fool." Erebus was furious: "Die."
The crimson Khorne beast, lurking in the corner of the bridge, emerged under Erebus' control. The hundred-armed beast wielded various grotesque and twisted weapons, crushing towards Kossolax.
The beast was hideous and terrifying. Kossolax's body, clad in Terminator power armor, appeared so tiny, so vulnerable before it.
In the blink of an eye, the beast charged in front of Kossolax. He could already smell the blood and sulfur from the beast.
And, of course, the smell of death.
At the last moment, Kossolax glanced slightly at the bridge, at the Mistress, or rather, the Conqueror's Captain Lorgala Sarine, firmly bound by chains woven by Erebus' sorcery.
"I protected the Conqueror." Kossolax's voice carried pride: "Is that enough to be promoted to Company Captain? Captain?"
The Khorne beast crushed Kossolax, like a high-speed train, forcefully smashing through the bridge wall, sending steel flying. Kossolax's body instantly deformed upon impact, every bone shattering, and in a blink of an eye, he disappeared into the depths of the Conqueror.
The crimson beast emerged from the crater it had created. Following Erebus' command, he killed Kossolax.
But Erebus couldn't be happy. His expression was grim. Losing Kossolax meant he couldn't command the World Eaters he hadn't controlled, couldn't sink the Conqueror.
Erebus gritted his teeth, still wanting to find another way, but there was no time left.
He drew his ritual dagger, quickly cut an opening in the air, and with the Khorne beast, instantly plunged into it, escaping the Conqueror.
"Kos—"
The bridge fell silent in an instant, leaving only the Mistress, her soul still bound by the blasphemous spells left by Erebus, moaning in pain:
"Regent Kossolax…"
"Angron Khârn save…"
"Beyond this large door should be the bridge."
Titus and Karlaen, bearing wounds, stood before a thick door made of brass and flesh.
Titus held a divining staff, which tilted towards the brass door, indicating that Captain Lorgala Sarine, whom they were looking for, was behind this massive door.
According to Khârn, Captain Sarine had merged with the Conqueror, eternally seated on the golden—no, on the Conqueror's command throne.
Therefore, where Captain Sarine was, the Conqueror's bridge must be.
But now, the door was tightly shut, with faint traces of Chaos energy flowing on it, seemingly not something that could be easily opened.
Titus nodded slightly at Karlaen, then put down his Chainsword, tugged at the small white glove on his left hand, intending to use the power of the Superman Gloves to smash open the door.
"Wait a moment."
But just then, a reddish-pink wooden door suddenly appeared before Titus.
Alexander, Nobita, and Khârn stepped out of the door.
Khârn's blood-red power armor was covered in a layer of frost, as if he had just returned from a cold environment.
He had been teleported into the cold void by the distorted shadow, but fortunately, Alexander had been tracking him with a tracking mirror, and before the vacuum could harm Khârn, he was brought back to the Light Lord.
Although Khârn failed to kill Erebus, this operation still went as planned by Guilliman and Alexander: they understood Erebus' trump cards, depleted his accumulated resources, and learned who Erebus' hidden ally was—
The first daemon Prince in the Warp, the first mortal to be blessed by the gods and ascend to daemonhood, the Undivided Chaos daemon Prince, the Shadow Master Be'lakor.
He was the first to receive the gods' favor, hailed as the Firstborn of the Gods, and his power was once incomparably mighty. He ruled his own empires in both the mortal realm and the Warp, even being worshipped as a god.
But he was arrogant and willful, eventually losing the gods' favor. Although Be'lakor remains the strongest among the daemon Princes, apart from the daemon Primarchs, his power has significantly declined compared to the past, and he was punished by the gods, forever unable to hold an independent position in the Warp or the material universe, forever unable to advance further to become a greater entity, confined to his current position.
Because of this, Be'lakor was filled with jealousy, jealous of all who were more favored by the gods, Chaos, and the Warp than he.
He fits the definition of the Envious One, one of the four individuals prophesied by the Emperor to be inextricably linked to the galaxy's destiny.
With this, Alexander roughly knew all of Erebus' trump cards, and how to act against him. He would surely kill him next time.
Alexander gently extended a finger towards the steel door before him, using the authority of the Malicious Art domain to counter the Khorne evil energy entwined with the Conqueror and the machine spirit imprisoned by Erebus' spells.
He gently pushed his hand forward, and the heavy brass door opened in response. A dull, bloody stench surged from the bridge towards everyone.
Khârn's body moved slightly. He raised his eyes, looking towards the towering command throne within the bridge.
His speed was swift. In a blink, he arrived before the command throne, seeing countless steel cables extending from the Conqueror, mixed with mutated flesh, piercing into the lower body of the woman seated on the command throne.
The part of the woman's body below her torso was a bloody, mangled, grotesque mess. Her legs were crushed and broken by thick steel cables, leaving only fragments of bone.
Her upper body was wrapped in a blood-stained, grey-white uniform, and the bloody handprint on her chest had already faded.
Khârn ascended the throne in a few strides, his eyes, hidden beneath his helmet, fixed on the woman's pale, weary, and pained face. Eight heavy blood-red chains wrapped around her neck, almost completely restraining her soul, tormenting her mind.
Khârn gently extended his arm, mutated like a daemon's. He hesitated for a moment, and Raum, residing within his flesh, retreated beneath his skin. In an instant, Khârn's body shrunk significantly, and his arm reverted to a thick, ordinary Astartes arm.
Khârn gently touched the woman's pale cheek with his fingertips.
"Khârn…" The woman didn't lift her head, only whispered tiredly, weakly: "You're finally back…"
"I'm back, Sarine."
When his fingers touched Lorgala Sarine's cold skin, the emptiness in Khârn's heart was replaced by a strong, unbearable sense of guilt.
After the Great Heresy, facing Angron, who had completely become a slave to the Blood God, facing the failed Great Heresy, and facing hopeless revenge, Khârn immersed himself in anger, trying to fill the dark void in his heart with it.
Ultimately, he almost completely lost his sanity, becoming Khorne's chainaxe on earth, abandoning his duty as a legion leader like Angron, and letting the World Eaters fall apart.
Lorgala Sarine and the Conqueror then disappeared into the galaxy.
Perhaps Khârn believed he couldn't save Captain Sarine, and thus dared not board the Conqueror again, or perhaps the Blood God's will did not wish for Khârn to reunite with the Conqueror. In any case, for ten thousand years, Khârn never saw Captain Sarine again.
As revenge once again became possible, and his anger was suppressed by Raum and Saint Doraemon, seeing Sarine tortured so by Erebus, Khârn's guilt welled up, uncontrollable.
"I'm sorry," Khârn said for the first time since the Butcher's Nails were implanted, "I should have come back sooner."
"I can… feel… you… all this time… for ten thousand years…"
Sarine's words were fragmented, her mind seemingly unclear:
"Your anger… your pain… your emptiness, Khârn, my brother."
"Yours and Angron's… all of it…"
But Khârn understood her words.
For ten thousand years, Lorgala Sarine, who was integrated with the Conqueror, could always feel the presence of Khârn and Angron. The two of them shaped the legion, and the Conqueror was the vessel of the legion. They always maintained a certain degree of connection with the Conqueror.
All of Khârn's anger, pain, and emptiness over these ten thousand years were known by the Conqueror, and by Lorgala Sarine.
This rendered the World Eater speechless.
Alexander slowly walked over to Khârn and Lorgala Sarine at this moment.
Although interrupting their reunion might be a bit of a mood killer, Alexander felt it was his time to appear.
"My Lord, I beg you." Khârn lowered his head, knelt on one knee, and placed the bloodson between Alexander and himself: "I pray to you devoutly."
Looking at Khârn's posture, Alexander was rather speechless.
He still remembered the first time he met Khârn, in front of Sanguinius' meat paste can.
At that time, Khârn was still one of the most difficult opponents Alexander had ever encountered. If Angron hadn't shown curved loyalty and held Khârn back, Alexander would have intended to fight Khârn to the death.
But Alexander had no ill will towards Khârn at the time; he just felt that Senior Khârn lived up to his reputation.
Now, his praying to Alexander made Alexander feel a bit awkward and unaccustomed, after all, Alexander was not a god.
"Praying devoutly for what? I'm not a god." Alexander shrugged, but he did not refuse Khârn's request.
Alexander carefully observed Lorgala Sarine's condition.
First, there were the eightfold shackles around Lorgala Sarine's neck.
Based on numerology, this eightfold binding was clearly a blasphemous spell created by Erebus, using the Blood God's power, to restrain Lorgala Sarine's soul. Alexander didn't understand these Warp things very well.
Next was Lorgala Sarine's original state: she was completely integrated with the Conqueror. She was the Conqueror, and the Conqueror was her. This state was very difficult to separate, and there was actually no need to separate it. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Alexander should be able to use the power of the Malicious Art domain to allow Lorgala Sarine to move freely within the Conqueror, instead of being confined to the command throne—in fact, after ten thousand years, Captain Sarine, having adapted to her situation, could already let her will move freely within the ship.
Finally, there was the problem of the Conqueror. This was the trickiest issue. The Conqueror had been thoroughly marinated by the Blood God over these ten thousand years, and Lorgala Sarine, too, had been completely corrupted by the Blood God. Relying solely on the Malicious Art domain powers Alexander possessed, it might take three to four weeks, and a considerable amount of effort, to expel the Blood God's power without harming the Conqueror or Lorgala Sarine.
Alexander was silent for a moment, pondering a solution, and then he had an idea.
He reached out and patted Khârn's shoulder, signaling him to relax.
"Your captain, I shall save her." Alexander said to Khârn.
Then, under Khârn's somewhat bewildered gaze, Alexander drew a power sword shimmering with dark light from his four-dimensional pocket.
It was a Black Sword, one of the ten Black Swords reforged from the fragments of Sigismund's former Black Sword.
Khârn recognized the weapon of his old chain-brother and nemesis at a glance.
But Khârn didn't understand why saving Sarine required Sigismund's weapon.
"Captain Sarine's illness stems from the Blood God's corruption. The root of the disease is in the Warp. Without removing the corruption, using Malicious Art in vain will not cure it."
"I have a method: first, use the Black Sword, with its sharp blade, to cut open Lorgala Sarine's chest and remove the corruption. Only then can it be eradicated."
"Ah?" Khârn didn't immediately understand Alexander's meaning.
"The Saint once heard that Guilliman was struck by Fulgrim's poisoned sword, wounding his neck. I scraped the bone to cure the poison, and Guilliman showed no fear."
"Now Captain Sarine has a minor ailment, why be so doubtful?"
"Bring me my sword!"
Before Khârn could even fully grasp the meaning of Alexander's words, Alexander, holding the Black Sword, plunged it into Lorgala Sarine's chest.
Captain Sarine's body trembled, letting out a sharp wail. Her life force rapidly drained away. In the blink of an eye, her pupils dilated, her body grew cold, her head slumped, and she died.
With Lorgala Sarine's death, the eightfold chains wrapped around her neck disintegrated.
At the same time, the entire Conqueror shuddered violently and let out a wail, as if it were about to fall apart. Countless crew members, who had reproduced for hundreds of generations on the ship and were almost inhuman, let out sharp, piercing wails and began to sob, seemingly grieving for the loss of Lorgala Sarine.
Some crew members even began to pray and mourn, as if holding a funeral for their captain—
But their sobbing, praying, and mourning all stopped abruptly, their expressions confused and at a loss.
It was as if a funeral was halfway through, and the deceased's urn suddenly flew up, and the photo on it spoke, announcing that he had ascended to become a soul cultivator, leaving everyone bewildered.
Alexander pulled out the Black Sword, and the wound on Lorgala Sarine's chest healed. Her broken, fragmented lower body also restored itself, and the steel cables connecting to her flesh and blood body fell away one by one.
This didn't mean that Lorgala Sarine was separated from the Conqueror; she and the Conqueror were still one. However, with the help of Alexander's Malicious Art domain power, she no longer needed to be confined to the command throne.
This was the method Alexander came up with. Alexander, after all, didn't only have the power of the Malicious Art domain.
He also had the Erosion and Destruction domain that the Emperor had given him.
Since the restraints left by Erebus were difficult to remove, then he would just kill Lorgala Sarine directly. Once dead, they would naturally be removed.
The Blood God's corruption was the same. A soul resurrected by Alexander was equivalent to being corrupted and controlled by Alexander. Alexander directly used the corruption of the Erosion and Destruction domain to override the Blood God's corruption.
Lorgala Sarine took a deep breath, feeling her lungs fill with air in shock and confusion. She found that she was no longer integrated with the command throne, but had returned to a normal, mortal body. This was a feeling she had never experienced in ten thousand years.
She trembled, wanting to stand up, but a sense of weakness and unfamiliarity instantly surged through her body.
Although Alexander had resolved Erebus' shackles, severed her material link with the Conqueror, and overwritten Khorne's corruption, Lorgala Sarine's soul was still extremely weak, and her soul had not moved in her own physical body for ten thousand years, making her very unaccustomed.
Just as she was about to fall, a bare arm gently supported her back.
"Khârn," Lorgala Sarine said weakly. She sat down, leaning on Khârn's arm, and looked in Alexander's direction.
However, Alexander didn't want to stay there, awkwardly positioned between Khârn and Lorgala Sarine, who he didn't know if she was Khârn's lover or his non-blood-related mother. Nor did he want to experience the gratitude and worship of the two, who clearly regarded him as a god.
So Alexander, with a flash of his figure using the instant movement ability he had practiced recently with the Superpower Training Box, teleported beneath the command throne, next to Titus and Karlaen, leaving the space to Khârn and Lorgala Sarine.
Khârn probably guessed Alexander's thoughts, which left him a bit speechless.
Khârn was not a man of many words. If it weren't for the Butcher's Nails, he would almost never express emotions in an intense way. So for a moment, he didn't know what to say or explain to Lorgala Sarine, just standing silently beside the captain.
But Lorgala Sarine immediately grabbed Khârn's arm, her weak, pale face showing urgency.
"Save him, Khârn."
"Kossolax, quickly go save Kossolax."
"…Who?" Khârn's expression froze for a moment; he didn't react immediately.
He hadn't really paid much attention to Kossolax. Kossolax, ten thousand years ago, was not actually appointed by Khârn, but was a rare appointment by Angron. Khârn had no impression of him, and during the assault on the Conqueror, he, or rather everyone, hadn't cared about Kossolax. When Lorgala Sarine mentioned him, he couldn't remember who he was in such a short time.
"…He was… when you and Angron were not here…"
"…He was… he was the Regent of the legion."
Kossolax felt all the bones in his body shatter, his flesh and blood mangled and embedded in the surrounding fractured steel, causing unbearable, terrifying pain.
His eyes were also filled with overflowing blood, making it impossible to see anything.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The Butcher's Nails in Kossolax's head were still buzzing, urging Kossolax to succumb to rage.
Buzz your Erebus' mother, rage your Erebus' father!
I'm almost dead, and you're still buzzing and buzzing here.
Can't a man have some peace?
Kossolax suppressed the rage stirred by the Butcher's Nails with little effort.
Before dying, he wanted to enjoy a moment of quiet, a moment of tranquility.
Why didn't he die directly?
That hundred-armed Khorne beast could undoubtedly crush Kossolax easily, taking Kossolax's life.
But it didn't; it seemed to hold back at the last moment.
Although it crushed Kossolax's entire body under Erebus' command, it specifically did not kill Kossolax directly.
Perhaps it still remembered the kindness of Kossolax, as the dignified World Eaters Regent, personally feeding it—consider it having some conscience.
But this actually had no meaning; the Conqueror had already been captured by the loyalist guys, and Kossolax's fate was already sealed.
He could only wait for death to arrive here.
Speaking of which, where would he go after he died?
The Golden Throne was definitely out of the question; the Emperor would certainly not save him, a traitor.
Was there still hope for the Brass Throne? Damn, Erebus seemed to claim he came to act on the Blood God's will.
Kossolax betrayed Erebus; did that count as defying the Blood God's will?
Realizing this, Kossolax's heart turned cold, and he secretly thought that these damned Butcher's Nails had ultimately harmed him.
Why did he impulsively swing his axe at Erebus?
Now, he didn't even have a chance for his soul to return to the Brass Throne.
What would become of his soul?
Become food for some daemons? Be shattered by the tides of Chaos?
However, Kossolax couldn't say he regretted betraying Erebus and striking Erebus with an axe.
He even felt proud, a sense of honor he had never experienced before.
Moreover, Lady Sarine had promised Kossolax to promote him to Captain of the Legion—huh? Wait, did she promise?
Kossolax pondered for a moment and realized that he hadn't heard Captain Sarine's reply before being sent flying by the Khorne beast.
This made Kossolax a bit worried.
If he died, would Captain Sarine posthumously promote him to Captain?
The World Eaters didn't seem to have such a precedent.
At this moment, Kossolax began to resent Khârn and Angron again.
If it weren't for them, Kossolax's brain wouldn't have been implanted with the Butcher's Nails, and he wouldn't have fallen to this fate.
If there was a next time he saw Angron or Khârn, Kossolax would rather die than not chop them with an axe.
"Still alive, what good luck." A muffled voice suddenly sounded in Kossolax's ear.
Through the blood blurring his eyes, Kossolax vaguely saw a figure clad in red armor, exuding the smell of blood, stepping down from a high place on broken rebar, descending towards him.
Kossolax was instantly moved to tears.
Loyal ministers are seen in times of trouble!
This World Eater actually risked so much, braving the loyalist encirclement, to come here to save him.
A loyal and good general!
My Sanguinius, my Rogal Dorn!
Kossolax had already decided: no matter who this warrior was, he would reward him, promote him, and bestow upon him the title of "Loyalist."
He would also give him glory, loudly proclaiming his achievements, letting everyone see the brilliance of this Loyalist, and shaming those traitors like Khârn.
"Be quick, my loyal subordinate."
Kossolax tried to maintain his dignity, and after coughing up two mouthfuls of blood, he spoke to the World Eaters warrior he couldn't see clearly:
"The despicable traitor Khârn is still roaming the Conqueror, the ambitious Ultramarines, the Blood Angels painted red like us, and the Raven Guard hiding in the shadows, not daring to fight me head-on, are all among them."
"If you want to save me, you must be quick, discreet, and maintain your sanity."
Kossolax's words made the World Eaters who came to save him stunned, seemingly not understanding what Kossolax was saying.
This annoyed Kossolax.
As the dignified Regent of the World Eaters, how could he be so ignorant of the art of governance and language?
He needed to discipline his subordinates, maintain his authority in front of them, and also give them rewards, maintaining a friendly image.
He needed to take good care of his subordinates' psychology—this was one of the reasons why Kossolax was able to gain the allegiance of several warbands and thousands of World Eaters.
"My loyal subordinate, do not be afraid of the enemies I mentioned."
"It was Erebus' betrayal that brought me to this state; as long as I recover, no Erebus, Karlaen, Sarojin, or even Khârn will be a threat."
"And don't worry, as long as you save me, I will reward you."
"I will make you a Loyalist, make you a Captain, to command my most elite troops.
How does First Captain sound to you?"
This made the warrior laugh.
He stretched out a bare arm wrapped in chains and hoisted Kossolax's broken body.
Wait, a bare arm wrapped in iron chains?
Kossolax's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly had a bad feeling.
No, no, no, this should just be a coincidence, right? It must be a coincidence, right?
Many World Eaters actually dressed this way.
"Alright, Your Highness the Regent, I'll be your Captain."
"Forget about First Company; I'll just be Captain of the Eighth Company, as before."
The muffled voice sounded, and Kossolax's two hearts pounded.
Just then, the blood sticking to Kossolax's eyes was washed away by his tears, and the scene before Kossolax gradually became clear.
"Kha... Khârn," Kossolax trembled.
"It is I, Regent, your Captain, the Loyalist Khârn."
Kossolax's eyes rolled back, and he fainted directly.
And when he regained consciousness, what happened also made him feel somewhat bewildered.
He met Saint Doraemon, that great being described by Erebus, who looked no different from a mortal.
But Kossolax quickly witnessed his power.
He effortlessly healed Kossolax.
Although the method was a bit strange: he used a big, black, thick sword to stab into Kossolax's body.
The Black Sword pierced through Kossolax's chest, puncturing his two hearts.
Kossolax's vision went black, and he almost thought he had died.
But when he opened his eyes, he found that his wounds had healed.
Saint Doraemon gently praised Kossolax's courage in attacking Erebus and hoped that Kossolax would lead the World Eaters under his command to obey his orders.
This made Kossolax a bit hesitant.
But upon careful consideration, Kossolax had betrayed Erebus by defying the Blood God's will, so continuing to worship the Blood God was clearly impossible.
As a traitor, a Regent of a rebel Legion, he obviously couldn't follow the Emperor either.
Nurgle: Kossolax didn't want to become a stinky can.
Tzeentch: The Lord of Change values intelligence and education; Kossolax happened to have neither, he couldn't even speak high gothic.
Slaanesh: That belonged to art students; Kossolax's artistic talent was a bit lacking.
Of course, there were also some lesser entities in the Warp, but in Kossolax's view, these were purely fly-by-night companies, like Maris, Be'lakor, and the like, all unreliable.
After careful thought, it seemed he only had the bright path of joining Saint Doraemon left.
Especially when he saw that Khârn and Captain Sarine had also submitted to Saint Doraemon, although hesitant, Kossolax still chose to convert and agreed to lead his World Eaters to surrender.
When Khârn appeared to announce the fate of the World Eaters, many warriors below were still restless, their Butcher's Nails buzzing.
Although Khârn was once the true Legion Master of the World Eaters, he had, after all, betrayed and abandoned the Legion.
When Kossolax appeared to announce all this, the World Eaters calmed down a bit, but their eyes still held suspicion, and their Butcher's Nails were still buzzing.
Kossolax had indeed received the allegiance of these warriors, but his seniority was, after all, shallow, not convincing enough.
The crucial blow came from Lady Lorgala Sarine.
When the Captain of the Conqueror stood before them, those ancient veterans of long wars froze in place.
Even the World Eaters most severely afflicted by the Butcher's Nails trembled, unable to believe that the one they thought dead had returned to the world.
Lorgala Sarine recounted the Blood God's betrayal and Erebus' actions.
She asked the World Eaters if they wanted to be free people who resisted, or continue to lick Erebus' butt and be slaves.
So the World Eaters angrily swore an oath, vowing to cut off Erebus' head, to avenge the Legion, to avenge Sarine, and to avenge the Conqueror.
What happened next was the happiest and most glorious moment of Kossolax's life.
Khârn knelt on one knee, bowing his head to acknowledge Kossolax as the Regent of the Legion, and in the name of Saint Doraemon, transferred all his power and duties to Kossolax.
And Lorgala Sarine personally held up an iron crown forged from blood and the steel fragments of the Conqueror's bridge, crowning Kossolax, making him truly the Regent of the Legion.
Even Saint Doraemon blessed Kossolax; he praised Kossolax, saying that Kossolax was simply the Guilliman of the World Eaters Legion, a diligent Regent.
He bestowed upon Kossolax a tool containing powerful energy, named the High-Efficiency Pill, which was said to increase the efficiency of doing everything after being consumed.
The glory Kossolax had once yearned for thus came before him.
He was very happy, until he returned to the bridge.
Piles of documents lay before Kossolax; this was his work as Regent.
"Ah! Oh no!"
"Something seems wrong!"
"Lucius is dead, and you are gravely wounded," Luther said to Erebus in a calm, slow tone.
On the Abyss-class Battleship Blessed Lady, daemons were continuously filling and repairing Erebus' body, healing the wounds left by Khârn and Kossolax.
This made the 'Luther' standing before Erebus slightly curious, wondering how Erebus could have fallen to such a pathetic state.
The 'Luther' before Erebus looked as if he was pieced together from fragments of corpses, with countless insects crawling and shuttling between the body parts, connecting them with their own bodies to form a rough humanoid shape resembling Luther.
A long-bodied centipede was embedded in the 'Luther's' head, half of its body filling his brain, while the other half extended like an antenna, reaching into the Warp.
This was the technique of Nurgle's chosen, Typhus, allowing Luther to converse secretly with Erebus through this corpse from the other end of the galaxy.
Luther and Typhus had formed a certain degree of friendship ten thousand years ago, and Luther seemed to trust Typhus greatly.
But Erebus did not trust him. Typhus was someone who could betray even his own Primarch; how could anyone trust such a person?
Unlike Erebus, who had always maintained an excellent relationship with his Primarch.
Luther's face contorted into a grotesque, deformed, and ugly expression, looking at Erebus with curiosity, seemingly wanting to know how Erebus had fallen to such a state.
Although Erebus' own skill level was not high, if he were in an arena or a one-on-one battle, Luther would probably need only about half a second to rip off Erebus' face.
But Erebus' true danger did not lie in his own strength. He was someone once favored by the Gods, the chief instrument for the Gods to carry out their will among humans, having received immense blessings from the Gods and possessing extensive knowledge of demonology, as well as a large collection of ancient artifacts.
All of these combined made Erebus quite difficult to kill.
Erebus felt resentment and shame; he was unwilling to recount his failure.
"Some unexpected, unforeseen circumstances," he said vaguely.
This made Luther frown slightly: "Are you hiding something from me? Erebus, I need to know the enemy's situation."
Luther's words made Erebus' expression twitch unpleasantly.
Lion's adoptive father, having endured the shock of Lion and Caliban's destruction, ten thousand years of imprisonment by the Dark Angels, and the erosion of Chaos energy, his mind was no longer entirely normal, yet he still retained some of the keen insight of the former Dark Angels.
Erebus had to employ his old tricks of deceiving Horus, carefully trying to deceive Luther without touching Luther's sensitive nerves.
To avoid arousing Luther's suspicion, Erebus had to adopt a sincere tone and said: "My friend, because what I am about to tell you is truly shocking."
"Sarojin has returned."
"Oh!" Luther raised an eyebrow slightly: "Raven Guard? Did Saint Doraemon resurrect him?"
This gave Luther a little joy; if Saint Doraemon could resurrect Sarojin from ten thousand years ago, then he could surely resurrect Lion.
"Khârn has, to some extent, received the Emperor's blessing. The Emperor's Flame now burns on his bloodson."
"The current Khârn is Primaris enchanted Khorne doraemon Emperor's triple chosen Khârn."
"Huh?" Luther listened to Erebus' barrage of words and couldn't help but shake his head: "The Emperor blessing Khârn... that man has more secrets than the entire First Legion combined; nothing he does is surprising."
But he noticed that Erebus seemed to be hiding something else.
Because Erebus had a hideous wound that did not fit Khârn's style.
For if it were Khârn, at such close range, a wound from Erebus' face to his chest would surely be a killing blow.
"Kossolax, a petty Chaos Lord, merely betrayed me," Erebus said with a twisted face.
It wasn't shameful to have nearly been sniped by Sarojin; Fulgrim had even been headshotted by him.
It wasn't shameful to have nearly been cleaved by Khârn; after all, it wasn't Erebus' first time, and even Sigismund had nearly been killed by Khârn.
The truly shameful part was Kossolax's axe blow. He, the Hand of Fate, had only ever been wounded to that extent by figures like Horus and Khârn, yet Kossolax, a mere Chaos Lord who started as a World Eaters subordinate, had managed to wound him so deeply.
"Who is Kossolax?" Luther asked with a confused expression.
As half a Legion Master, he naturally wouldn't pay attention to an obscure subordinate in the World Eaters.
"..That is an extremely terrifying person." After a few seconds of silence, Erebus chose to praise Kossolax rather than belittle himself or Kossolax.
After all, if he belittled Kossolax, being wounded by Kossolax would make him look like a complete clown.
But if he hyped up Kossolax, Erebus being struck by an axe wouldn't be so humiliating.
"This man is a World Eater, extremely cunning, and as ambitious as Guilliman."
"I was deceived by him. He hid his malice behind his eyes and betrayed me at my most vulnerable moment, causing my plans to fall apart."
"Fortunately, I am the Hand of Fate and had already foreseen the destined outcome, so I eliminated this great menace at the cost of this minor injury."
Luther looked at Erebus with a hint of suspicion, but upon hearing Erebus say that the person was dead, he felt a little relieved.
"What about your situation?" Erebus then inquired.
"Sanguinius is after me. I don't know why they suddenly shifted their attention from you to me."
Luther said with a tone of reproach, as Erebus' role was to draw fire for Luther:
"I'm not afraid of Mephiston; he hasn't gone as far as I have on the path of the Warp."
"But if Sanguinius himself makes a move, I'm afraid I'll have a hard time coping and will only be able to flee in a hurry."
Luther had received many blessings from the Four Gods and had, to some extent, learned some of the ancient secrets remaining on Caliban, and he himself claimed to have truly mastered the power of Chaos, reaching the end of the Chaos path.
Regardless of the truth of the latter point, Luther indeed possessed extremely terrifying strength, even capable of clashing with a Primarch to some extent.
But it was only capable of clashing; against the current Sanguinius, Luther could at most hold out for a while and then flee.
"I have a way to hold Sanguinius," Erebus said. "You don't need to worry about him."
"You?" Luther raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Precisely me." Erebus raised his head with a touch of pride: "You always say the Blood Angels' Primarch is flawless, but I specialize in finding cracks in flawless individuals."
"Ten thousand years ago, above the Signus Cluster, I used the distilled anger of countless dead Blood Angels to create an artifact called the fury of khorne."
"This artifact contains the power of the Blood God himself and can infect the Blood Angels, awakening their rage—but that's not the point."
"I once deceived Sanguinius, promising that if Sanguinius himself stepped into the fury of khorne and embraced its power, he could exchange it for the salvation of his sons, freeing them forever from the torment of the Bloodthirst."
"This was, of course, a lie. I could have used this to offer Sanguinius and his Legion to the Blood God, but unfortunately, before Sanguinius fell for it, his Apothecary Meros—a vile, insignificant, and unremarkable Blood Angel—stepped into the fury of khorne in Sanguinius' stead, exposing my plot."
"Although I failed to corrupt Sanguinius, the Blood God's power and the anger of the dead Blood Angels successfully created a demon intimately connected to the Blood Angels. This demon occupied the body of Apothecary Meros, was born in the material universe and the Warp, and called himself the Red Angel."
"This demon still exists, still occupies the body of Apothecary Meros, and has long since secretly corrupted a sub-chapter of the Blood Angels."
Erebus revealed a mocking smile:
"This is Sanguinius' weakness; he cannot abandon his sons. He loves his sons too much."
"I will use this to help you hold Sanguinius."
Luther offered no comment on Erebus' cunning.
Erebus didn't care about Luther's reaction and continued to press: "How many Fallen Angels have you gathered now?"
Luther reported a number.
"Too few." Erebus frowned deeply. The number was a drop in the ocean compared to what he needed: "What exactly are you doing, Luther?"
"That's not for you to question. I am the second-in-command of the Dark Angels, half a Legion Master. I know how to assemble a Legion better than you."
Luther said with a sneer:
"And I have unique helpers... Hmm?"
Erebus was about to ask further when the corpse resembling Luther suddenly turned its head, seemingly speaking to someone nearby.
"What do you mean a silver skeleton glowing with blue and green light ransacked my room and stole all the daggers, amulets, and sword cases Lion gave me?"
Then Luther looked at Erebus: "I have an urgent matter; I'm logging off now."
As the words fell, before Erebus could speak, the corpse shattered with a crash, turning into chunks of flesh that fell to the ground.
Erebus felt a little displeased but said nothing more; he still had important things to do.
The Blood God had agreed to provide more blessings and assistance to Erebus, but on the condition that Erebus must continue to try and corrupt Titus—or if not Titus, Sanguinius, Dante, or Calgar would also suffice.
Erebus, being of sound mind, naturally still chose Titus.
Besides the Blood God, Erebus also hoped to gain the help of another person...
He cast a spell, channeled Psyker energy, and opened a communication.
A bald man, dressed in a simple monk's robe, quite tall, with a handsome face, appeared faintly before Erebus.
"Father," Erebus said, adopting a loyal and honest demeanor.
Then, the bald monk slowly raised his head:
"Who?"
"Erebus?"
"Don't disturb my meditation."
"Get out."
Then the bald monk's figure vanished before Erebus, leaving only a stiff Erebus.