[The shocked Draigo instantly became alert. His hand tightened on his Nemesis Force Sword, even though he had given the blade to you moments before. He was ready to act with his remaining weaponry.]
[He suddenly raised the heavy Storm Shield, the silver metal gleaming under the crimson sky, his deep eyes locked on the headless, blurry phantom, as if he were about to strike, ready to banish the warp manifestation.]
[However, your actions prevented him from making the next move. You were lost to your own power.]
[You seemed to enter a hazy, trance-like state, your mind connected directly to the swirling psychic energy.]
[You slowly raised a thick arm covered in plasteel armor joints—the raw psychic energy flowing around you coalesced around your extended limb.]
[A huge iron hammer phantom, formed entirely from warp flames and colossal in size, was tightly gripped in your palm, glowing with intense cyan light.]
[At the same time, the headless phantom behind you also slowly raised a thick arm flowing with flames, perfectly mirroring your movement, its power fueling your effort.]
[It was as if endless warp flames surged forward once more, completely enveloping the hideous, terrifying Chaos Power Armor where it stood, a maelstrom of purifying fire.]
[And as the warp flames surged and rolled, strands of blood-red Chaos power were being burned and purified, screaming silently as they were annihilated or forced out of the metal matrix.]
[The headless phantom's thick arm silently fell, its motion slow and inexorable.]
[With your thoughts hazy, driven by an instinct deeper than consciousness, you also swung the illusory iron hammer in your hand, bringing the full force of the channeled psychic power down.]
[The next moment, the flaming iron hammer collided violently with the Chaos Power Armor. The resounding tremors, loud enough to tear the air apart, echoed throughout the entire foundry, a thunderous clang of creation and destruction.]
[Countless Bloodsmiths, hiding behind the demonic forge and in the corners of the foundry, were instantly reduced to dust, unable to withstand the shockwave of pure psychic force.]
[Draigo was also forced to raise his Storm Shield, the Aegis protecting him as he quickly placed it directly in front of him, while his tall figure retreated continuously, the ground shaking violently beneath his heavy boots.]
[The headless phantom once again swung down its thick, fiery arm, the act of forging repeating.]
[You also swung the massive illusory iron hammer again, the heavy blows landing with impossible precision.]
[Each shock and strike caused a dramatic change to the Chaos Power Armor in front of you, the material being re-forged on a spiritual level.]
[The blood-red, heavy metal shell gradually turned into the color of pitch-black steel, taking on a dull, resilient sheen.]
[The countless terrifying and ferocious metal horns did not disappear. They merely shortened slightly, taking on a kind of angular, brutal beauty belonging to efficiently forged objects rather than simple daemonic excess.]
[Under the intense heat of the subsurface flames, four differently shaped, servo-driven mechanical arms, made of the same dark metal, quietly appeared and locked into the structure behind the power backpack.]
[You seemed oblivious, merely following the fiery phantom of the headless shadowy figure wielding its massive iron hammer, the unconscious act of psychic mastery complete.]
[After thirteen reverberating blows—the significant number of purification complete—a completely new power armor, both in appearance and nature, appeared before you: strong, black, and perfectly tailored.]
[The endless subsurface flames began to recede and shrink into your body, the immense power being drawn back into its source.]
[Just then, the headless shadowy figure, which had returned to silence, once again raised its thick, fiery arms, a final task remaining.]
[Two unfinished boltguns, lying nearby, were swiftly engulfed by a wisp of subsurface flame and plunged into the depths of the still-lingering fiery tide, their crude brass melting instantly.]
[The headless shadowy figure slowly raised its two thick, fiery arms and swung them down heavily, smashing the molten metal together.]
[With a final, resounding boom, the two unfinished boltguns miraculously merged into one, forged in pure psychic fire.]
[A brand-new Storm Bolter, heavy and complex, was miraculously forged, its metal glowing with residual heat.]
[The headless phantom descended, sinking towards you. A hand formed of flame gently patted your shoulder, a gesture of silent affirmation, as if bidding you a final farewell.]
[Then, the endless warp flames rapidly subsided, returning to your body, leaving only the faintest warmth behind.]
[You gradually regained consciousness, the haze lifting from your mind.]
[You stared blankly at the power armor, completely different from what you'd seen before, now standing silently and waiting.]
[You blinked your cyan wolf eyes in a daze, the transition back to normal awareness jarring.]
[You instinctively raised a hand, clutching a quaintly designed, massive Storm Bolter that lay near the armor's feet. It felt perfectly weighted.]
[The next moment, a solemn-looking Draigo slowly approached you, his Terminator armor scraping against the ash.]
[His white beard trembled slightly as he first gave you a second, amazed look, taking in the finished armor and the psychic feat he had just witnessed.]
[Then, a radiant smile, unlike anything he had shown before, a true expression of delight, gradually appeared on his aged face.]
["Come on! Young lad from the Space Wolves! Let's embark on a thrilling and exciting daemon-slaying journey!" Draigo, his expression excited and full of renewed vigor, seemed to erupt with a passion far exceeding his past self, shouting loudly at you, recognizing a genuine force of nature.]
[You twitched your nostrils, registering the immense, almost manic enthusiasm, and let out a helpless sigh, accepting the madness of your situation.]
[With Draigo's calm, steady help, you donned the power armor you silently named 'Iron Shell' again. The suit sealed around you, feeling incredibly sturdy, a perfect blend of Chaos-forged resilience and psychic purification.]
[You slowly raised a thick arm covered in heavy, black armor and clenched your massive metal hand again, testing the powerful servo-motors.]
[Your four incredibly flexible servo-mechanical arms extended and retracted at your will, operating with seamless precision, their attack range sufficient to cover any area within three meters, turning you into a devastating close-combat platform.]
[After completing all preparations, you and Draigo found the ammunition stockpile in the foundry—abandoned by the incinerated forgers—and quickly replenished your supplies, loading bolter rounds into your new weapon.]
[Your four servo-mechanical arms also carried more ammunition supplies, grasping belts and boxes of heavy explosive rounds.]
[You returned the Nemesis Force Sword to Draigo, handing the weapon back to its rightful owner.]
[This time, Draigo did not refuse, taking the sword with a nod.]
[With a smile that was less solemn and more mischievous, he offered no further admonition regarding your unauthorized use of the unpurified Daemon weapon, acknowledging its utility and your control over it.]
[A refreshed you, clad in the immense 'Iron Shell', and Draigo stepped out of the foundry, leaving the destruction behind.]
[Draigo blinked his deep eyes and asked about your next plans and thoughts, giving you the choice.]
[Continue slaughtering Daemons in Khorne's domain, or leave for now to the more mysterious and unknown Warp?]
[You gradually adapt to the unfamiliar yet powerful 'Iron Shell' powered armor, testing its mobility with every step.]
[You decide to temporarily leave Khorne's domain and follow Draigo into the more mysterious and unpredictable warp, recognizing that your power growth must now be done elsewhere.]
[You embark on a journey away from Khorne's domain, moving across the hellish landscape.]
[Although the flow and changes of everything in the warp are completely unpredictable, Draigo, the only designated vagabond in the warp, still knows a fixed passage out of Khorne's domain, a path carved by faith and experience.]
[You gradually emerge from the terrifying zone of countless erupting volcanoes and endless fire.]
[You enter a blood-red plain littered with countless corpses, a vast, flat expanse of death.]
[You notice blood-red flowers shaped like grotesque heads, with stamens resembling human faces in silent agony, blooming on countless corpses, densely stretching towards the distant blood-red sky, an unsettling carpet of death.]
["Those are Blood-blossom. Their fragrance will ignite the bloodlust of those with weak wills, forever immersing them in a terrifying illusion of slaughtering everything..." Draigo, seeming to sense your curiosity and your glance toward the unsettling flora, explains.]
[You subconsciously twitched your nostrils, testing your augmented senses, but only caught a faint floral scent mixed with the overwhelming stench of blood from countless corpses.]
["I told you, this is for weak-willed mortal warriors and Astartes who lack psychic defense... It wouldn't do you or me any good even if you ate it," Draigo, with his white beard, grinned, utterly unconcerned by the danger.]
[However, the next second, Draigo's expression gradually turned solemn, the smile vanishing as his stellar eyes fixed on something distant.]
[He slowly narrowed his deep eyes, his gaze fixed on the depths of the boundless blood-red plain.]
[You followed his gaze and saw a vast, slowly writhing tide of blood in the distance... it was actually a terrifyingly large Khorne army, a literal sea of red plating and brass.]
["Young lad, it seems the Lord of Slaughter doesn't want you to leave so easily..." Draigo subconsciously widened his eyes, turning to you as he spoke, the exhilaration now mixed with grim realization.]
[You narrowed your cyan wolf eyes, the visor focusing on the approaching threat, and bared your snow-white fangs in anticipation.]
[One of your hands gripped the Storm Bolter, now named 'Iron Hand', tightly.]
[The other hand held the 'Khorne Axe', resting it atop your sturdy, heavy, black shoulder armor, ready for use.]
["Daemons, huh? Just kill them all," you respond, your vox-grille crackling with cold determination.]