"Hiss…"
"This is getting a bit too addictive. If this keeps up, the Blood God and the others are going to fight me to the death, aren't they?!"
Eden faced the terrifying aura of slaughter surging from the Warp. His chest felt stuffed with iron ingots, and even breathing became difficult.
When the Blood God got angry, the consequences were severe.
Everyone knew how terrifying that god of slaughter and war truly was. His fury could drown the Warp itself.
And besides Him, the Plague Lord and the Changer of Ways would come to settle accounts too.
"I'm probably the first being since the old man Emperor to make the Chaos Gods this furious, right?"
Eden thought about it—and somehow felt a hint of pride.
After all, an enemy's rage was the best medal of merit. If you even made it onto their blacklist, that was practically bringing honor to the family.
Now, he finally understood the old man Emperor's true "value."
Eden had messed with the Chaos Gods this badly, yet their hatred for him still did not surpass what they felt toward the Emperor.
Which only showed how brutally the Emperor had conned them back then. Had the old man shaved off the gods' retirement funds too, or what?
"Looks like I need to brace for impact. If I get caught…"
Eden drew a deep breath, set his stance, and prepared to withstand the assault from the Blood God and the other Ruinous Powers.
He was still nervous.
Thankfully, he was deep in the Eye of Terror—on the boundary between the galaxy and the Warp—rather than inside the Warp itself. Otherwise, even running would be difficult.
Those Chaos Gods could not exactly come into the galaxy just to kill him, could they?!
If they truly had that ability, the galaxy would have been finished long ago. Humanity would have had no hope of resistance.
"What they can do is what the Prince of Pleasure did—extend their authority into the Eye of Terror and strike at me.
Once the Prince of Pleasure fully opens the pleasure-dream and lets the other gods' authority in, I'll be taking an unimaginable hit!"
Eden's thoughts raced as he waited for the strike to arrive.
This waiting was the most agonizing part.
But he soon realized the pleasure-dream was not opening at all. Instead, it quietly reinforced itself, as if terrified something might go wrong with it.
"Good lord. The Prince of Pleasure is secretly backing me and telling me to keep going…"
Eden understood at once.
The Prince of Pleasure had only been sipping soup in this overly "advanced" broadcast.
But compared to the other gods—whose images and authority were getting shredded and whose faith was bleeding out—He was making a killing.
If all the other gods regressed, was that not the same as the Prince of Pleasure advancing alone?
That bastard was probably giggling to himself and enjoying every second.
"I'm working this hard and still getting punched. I can't let the Prince of Pleasure profit for free."
The moment Eden realized the Prince of Pleasure was also cashing in, he felt uncomfortable.
He seized the opportunity and decided to negotiate a special deal.
Eden immediately pulled up psychic comms, retrieved the Prince of Pleasure's frequency from his blocklist, and opened a call to demand benefits.
After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Surely the Prince of Pleasure understood that logic.
Buzz—
The call was accepted instantly. A sliver of Eden's consciousness arrived at the Palace of Pleasure, where he saw the Prince of Pleasure reclining upon a couch-throne.
That being was pale and gorgeous—like the finest elf the world could ever imagine.
"Pretty is pretty, but it's still a full-on pervert."
Eden muttered inwardly, completely unaware that across the galaxy and the Warp, he was now viewed by Chaos entities as a pervert among perverts.
The daemons had a name for him.
That cursed, detestable existence.
At this moment, Eden stood elegantly before the Prince of Pleasure, posture straight, and demanded payment in tainted faith-energy.
"My dear, you've seized my dreamscape, and you still have the nerve to ask for compensation?
Perhaps… I can give you what you truly want…"
The Prince of Pleasure appeared in the form Eden "liked" best, striking an irresistibly tempting pose.
He chose to communicate with Eden in the manner of a human woman, voice sweet as a songbird.
The god of pleasure lounged lazily. As He spoke, He slid off the black stockings from His snow-white long legs and tossed them at the Savior.
"Heh. If you don't pay up, I'm not moving."
Eden allowed the stockings to land over his head. His expression and stance did not change at all.
He knew the Prince of Pleasure before him was, at base, a conceptual lifeform. If that bastard refused, Eden would stop the broadcast.
He had already earned more than enough anyway.
This was not a "real" threat, but Eden knew the Prince of Pleasure was greed itself. He would not refuse any chance to weaken the other gods.
No god would.
Without noticing, Eden had gone from a nobody in the Warp—an invisible speck—to a being who could bargain and set conditions with the Chaos Gods.
He could feel it.
He was being dragged into this grand game, becoming a piece on the board.
It was not a good omen, but he had no choice. Perhaps this world really was just that damned.
"Very well, my dear. I will cooperate with you, and we shall toy with them together."
The Prince of Pleasure read Eden's attitude and did not hesitate long.
He rose from the couch-throne, stepped down barefoot along the stairs, then lifted Eden's face and kissed him.
In that instant, new authority of pleasure flowed into the Savior, granting him greater control over the pleasure-dream—over the Domain itself.
…?
Eden had not even processed what happened when he felt an impossibly smooth softness and a sweet, fragrant warmth.
Then he cut the connection at once.
He would not give that being even a fraction of a chance to make another move and corrode his consciousness.
"Dangerous. I almost let the Prince of Pleasure get what He wanted."
Eden's awareness returned to the dreamscape. Seeing the "Bulgarian Blood God" still thrusting His backside out while the whip cracked down on Him, Eden finally exhaled.
He admitted he had miscalculated for a moment and failed to guard properly.
That was unpleasant.
But even while feeling unpleasant, Eden did not forget to send a psychic projection to Fulgrim.
If he had to suffer, he might as well share it.
At the same time, outside the dreamscape, Fulgrim received the Savior's projected vision.
It showed Eden accepting the Prince of Pleasure's "gift" of authority.
Fulgrim's mind shattered even further.
As a Daemon Prince of pleasure, he had never received such a bestowal of authority—yet the Savior, an enemy, had.
"No… no… why?!"
His pride took another crushing blow. He dropped to his knees with a thud and roared.
Fulgrim realized the trap he designed had deviated—and instead, the Savior had gained the greatest benefit.
While he himself had become a pathetic clownish lackey.
Then, Fulgrim sensed something.
He looked up.
A mass of molten flame emerged in the void, and within it stood a dreadful blood-shadow.
It was as if it would tear open and drown this planet, burning everything to ash.
"The Blood God has arrived."
When Fulgrim saw the Blood God's projection, he felt a strange sense of anticipation.
He wanted that god of slaughter and war to smash the dreamscape quickly—end this absurd, profane broadcast engineered by the Savior.
He never wanted to see that little clown-lackey representing him again.
But to his shock, the blood-shadow met resistance, as if struggling to force its way past the screen's boundary.
"The Prince of Pleasure is deliberately playing dead, dragging down the Blood God's pace."
Inside the dreamscape, Eden noticed the Blood God was being obstructed, and he laughed.
That meant he had more time.
That was the Prince of Pleasure's plan. He did not need to fight the other Chaos Gods directly—he only had to pretend he could not control the dreamscape.
And in truth, it was not even "pretending." The moment the Prince of Pleasure ceded that portion of authority, Eden gained full control of this dreamscape.
Now, the Blood God and the other Chaos Gods would have to spend more effort breaking into the pleasure-dream Domain.
And for every second they were delayed, they would lose an ocean of faith and authority to the ongoing broadcast—weakening as they bled.
Boom—
"Savior, end this!"
Amid the Blood God's bellow, a blood-red giant hand—vast as a mountain range—slammed down.
But when it struck the dreamscape, it was like hitting a rubber ball. A transparent membrane blocked the motion.
This was not the Warp. And the dreamscape was linked to the daemon world Oleincis, backed by a colossal supply of pleasure-energy.
It was not something the Blood God could destroy with a single blow.
"Sorry. I can't agree to your request. Not unless you pay."
Eden planted his hands on his hips and stared up at the Blood God's projection, larger than a planet.
He grew even more brazen.
If he was going to offend them anyway, he might as well offend them thoroughly.
"Là wǒ'ér… fǎ kě'ér~"
As he spoke, he manipulated the purple-bikini "Bulgarian Blood God" and had the projection perform a scandalously provocative dance directly in the real Blood God's face.
That obscene "bulge" shook wildly toward the Blood God himself—pure, shameless provocation.
Whoosh—
The Blood God's projection ignited with even greater flame, molten fury erupting like a volcanic blast.
He was furious enough to explode.
Then, the other three Chaos Gods' projections appeared, joining the Blood God in attacking the dreamscape.
At this moment, even the Prince of Pleasure did not dare relax. He knew that if he exposed himself, he would be surrounded and torn apart by three enraged gods.
"What a pity. By contract, I can't reveal my little secret deal with the Prince of Pleasure."
Eden watched the sky of the dreamscape shudder and sway, near collapse, and sighed.
Otherwise, he would have shamelessly exposed the trade, then enjoyed the "spectacle" of three Chaos Gods beating down the Prince of Pleasure.
It would have bought even more time.
But the contract prevented betrayal.
That was necessary. Without it, the Prince of Pleasure would never have agreed to the deal, nor ceded this portion of the dreamscape's authority.
"About one minute. This dreamscape will be completely shattered."
Eden sensed the outflow of pleasure-energy and checked the Sun of Hope's dark-side reserves, estimating the Domain's remaining strength.
One minute was plenty for a high-tier being who measured time in milliseconds.
Plenty of things could be done.
Even in a single second, he could carry out a dizzying number of actions too fast for ordinary eyes to track—let alone at the speed of thought inside a dreamscape like this.
Eden had bought himself time through that special deal.
Which meant he could do more with the pleasure-dream.
"With the help of this pleasure-dream, plus the Sun of Hope, I now have far stronger projection capability—enough to cover most of the galaxy and the Warp."
After digesting the authority ceded by the Prince of Pleasure, Eden could truly feel how strong a god who had ascended the divine tier was.
Perhaps this was why the Chaos Gods could corrupt the galaxy—because their Warp-tentacles could reach countless regions.
Even Holy Terra, even the outer layers of the Imperial Palace, were no exception.
The moment people's minds weakened, the gods had an opening.
In the past, Eden could not do such things. Those were the methods of true gods.
But now he could.
By controlling this pleasure-dream, Eden had gained something like a data interface into the Prince of Pleasure's authority.
He could borrow the Prince of Pleasure's "server," and thus gain vastly stronger broadcast reach.
"In that case, I can project whatever content I want into the galaxy and the Warp."
Eden thought of it that way.
Perhaps the old man Emperor had the same capacity—especially within the Imperium.
Following the contract, Eden continued projecting the explosive, profane "PK livestream" across the galaxy and the Warp, letting more cultists and daemons witness it and tearing down the Chaos Gods' images.
As for content involving the Prince of Pleasure, he restrained it considerably.
That would weaken the other three gods as much as possible.
It was malicious and yielded no immediate personal gain.
But as long as the other gods declined, the Prince of Pleasure's purpose was achieved—and that was also a result the Imperium wanted.
Of course, that was not Eden's ultimate goal. Simply farming daemons with a profane "PK stream" was not enough to satisfy his appetite.
He had another method.
"The Warp is about to go completely mad. I wonder if the Chaos Gods can even hold the line…"
While fulfilling the contract, Eden projected even more new content outward, blanketing worshippers and daemons across huge stretches of the galaxy and the Warp.
A mass broadcast of "vision blessings."
It was outrageous. A blatant overreach. Enough to trigger divine war.
Over endless ages of struggle, the Chaos Gods had long drawn borders for their spheres of influence and generally did not cross them.
Unless a major plan demanded it—like the Plague Lord's wars of pestilence, which infringed on other gods' domains.
Before He could even digest the gains, He was beaten senseless by the others.
But Eden was a newcomer, a disruptor. He did not care about the old gods' rules.
That was the advantage of an outsider—causing trouble outside the rules.
The only question was whether he could withstand the Chaos Gods' retaliation.
"Now the Chaos Gods already want me dead, and they're squatting on the Imperium's head like it's a latrine. Who cares about your rules!"
Eden did not fear them.
Those Warp gods and other abominations rampaged through the Imperium's territory. They had even set up a massive trap formation on Vostroya, trying to kill him.
If Eden did not stir up trouble in the Warp, it would not make sense.
Eden's spirit surged. He used the Sun of Hope's devouring ability to absorb the aftershock of the gods' attacks as much as possible.
Then, using the pleasure-dream, he projected even more vision-messages at a crazed pace.
He had to seize the moment. He might never get an opportunity like this again.
As Eden operated, an ocean of projected visions poured into every corner of the galaxy and the Warp.
…
Dawn City Webway, the Black Throne Palace.
The stifling atmosphere in the throne hall had dissipated. The Tyrant Emperor's rage had vanished, and the air even carried a faint trace of cheer.
Magnus's face was bruised blue and purple, swollen like a pig's head. He forced a smile and poured wine for the Emperor.
He realized his father had changed a great deal—less cold, less cruel.
Even after taking a beating, the Crimson King no longer felt the same resentment.
But when he saw the images on the psychic screen in the hall, his body still trembled, as if some terrible memory had been dragged back up.
A memory of social death.
"Là wǒ'ér… fǎ kě'ér~"
That brainwashing, ear-assaulting tune echoed through the hall with a faint reverb.
"#@￥&!
That brat Eden is doing pretty well—forcing the gods into this state…"
The Tyrant Emperor's foul mouth was as sharp as ever, but deep down he was pleased.
Especially when he compared the Chaos Gods' eye-searing outfits and profane content to his own earlier "projection," he felt an odd sense of comfort.
He had been furious at the "Emperor ramming pleasure" scene, yes.
But after witnessing the Chaos Gods' misery, he felt balanced again.
The Savior still "respected" him, at least enough to preserve his image by comparison.
That was the power of contrast.
When the Savior had no bottom line to an extreme degree, then any act that was merely "less bottomless" became oddly heartening.
Even Magnus quietly rejoiced that the Savior had not done the same thing to him earlier.
Otherwise, he truly would not have dared to show his face again.
"Perhaps… I should mend my relationship with that brother."
He thought it through.
A ruthless man like the Savior—someone who would throw hands with his father and the Chaos Gods alike—was not someone you wanted to keep clashing with.
"The gods' majesty has been damaged. They will lose countless worshippers. Innumerable humans will benefit…"
The Tyrant Emperor took a satisfied sip of the century-old Lafite the Savior had stored, enjoying the Chaos Gods' ugliness as his whole body relaxed.
The pressure of faith inside the Holy Sun had eased significantly, and his old enemies had suffered ultimate social death.
It was one of his happiest moments in ten thousand years.
Now the Lord of Mankind believed the Savior could withstand the gods' threats and retreat whole.
Suddenly, the Tyrant Emperor sensed something.
A projected vision from the Warp—sent by the Savior.
He received it and displayed it in the hall.
Boom—
A simulated surge of slaughter-energy spread, so real that any being would believe it was the power of the god of war and murder.
In the vision, Khorne appeared in brass war-plate, blood-axe in hand, terrifying beyond measure.
He stared toward them, voice roaring like a volcano.
"Tremble, worshippers. I am the Blood God. A new divine war has begun. I must assemble a new daemon host…"
…?
The Tyrant Emperor froze at the vision.
It was as if he had seen something new—or as if it had stirred some ancient memory from Old Terra.
A new kind of Warp scam.
"Transfer me 50"?!
…
The Warp, the Realm of Chaos.
"Ah—great Blood God, you have favored me…"
A Greater Daemon stared at the vision, so excited he could barely contain himself.
In the projected image, Khorne's eyes burned with bloodfire, voice heavy with domination.
"You have been chosen by slaughter. Offer your strength to help Me build My daemon host. When it is done, I will grant you Daemonhood!"
(End of Chapter)
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