"Wretched believer, you have only one chance. Offer up your faith and join this war of slaughter, or be cast aside by slaughter itself and die!"
In the vision, the Blood God's tone was feverishly impassioned, erupting with the aura of slaughter-authority.
It was terrifying.
And yet the way He spoke and the way He "communicated" felt like a cross between "I'm Qin Shi Huang, wire me money" and "Crazy Thursday, V me 50."
"I didn't expect this trick to work so well in this era. Those Chaos cultists and daemons didn't even think to question it. Every last one of them just believed it."
Eden watched the greater daemon before him through the projected vision, not particularly surprised.
No matter how times change, there will always be people getting harvested like chives. Only the packaging differs.
Back in his hometown, his parents' generation got harvested by miracle health products. The younger generation got harvested by overpriced "concepts."
Goodnight milk, sterile eggs, anti-inflammatory foods, superfoods—slap on a concept and they dared to sell it for several times the price, or more.
Anyone who believed those concepts and chased them obsessively was probably already recorded by big data, lined up for the next round of health-product marketing.
"And now there are the Chaos Gods themselves as the 'trust endorsement,' so these fake visions are even easier to believe and accept."
After briefly reflecting on his past life, Eden refocused on projecting the fraudulent vision information.
He knew that if he borrowed the Chaos Gods' images as his "brand," those Chaos believers would not dare to doubt it.
Because before today, no one had ever dared to fleece the Chaos Gods—using Their images to swagger around and run scams.
Anyone who even conceived of doing it would have been corroded and annihilated by the Gods' wrath at the thought stage.
But who would have imagined that he, the Savior, would dare to do it—and succeed?!
Behind those visions, the true deity being "dialed" was the dark side of the Sun of Hope—Diablo.
Once the Chaos cultists and daemons believed it and offered up their warp-tainted faith, that faith would be scooped up by Diablo for free.
And Eden did not need to pay any promise or price at all—this was, in every sense, a pure Warp faith scam.
As for whether the victims felt dissatisfied, they could go complain to the Chaos Gods. After all, it was the Gods' images making the "promises."
In short: he pocketed the faith and warp power, and what got burned was the Chaos Gods' image and credibility.
"Great Blood God…!"
"I am willing to take part in this war of slaughter. I am willing to become Your servant. I will offer blood and faith!"
The greater daemon dropped to his knees with fervent devotion, terrified that the Blood God might refuse to grant this grace.
There were only eight seats for Daemon Princes of slaughter. Seven chosen ones already enjoyed that "blessing."
He could not miss this chance.
After that, the greater daemon followed the ritual shown in the vision and voluntarily offered up his warp power.
It was proof of loyalty to slaughter.
At the instant his warp power was absorbed, the vision and the Blood God's phantom projection vanished—gone without a trace.
The greater daemon remained where he was, full of expectation, waiting for the summons of the God of slaughter and war.
Yet time passed, and nothing happened.
"Why has the Blood God not summoned me yet?!"
The greater daemon's mind swarmed with doubt. Hadn't it said the slaughter war was raging and a daemon host needed to be assembled immediately?
He faintly sensed something was wrong and tried to pray to the Blood God along the "faith pathway" he had just used.
But that pathway was already sealed shut. There was no possibility of contact through prayer.
"Could this be a false—"
Beside him, a daemon bodyguard swallowed hard and murmured.
But before he could finish, he clamped his mouth shut, not daring to continue questioning the God of slaughter and war.
No matter what, the seed of doubt had already been planted.
After repeated attempts, the greater daemon finally confirmed it: everything was fake.
His heart filled with resentment toward the Blood God.
"No. The Blood God would never deceive me!"
His silent blasphemy, resentment, and disrespect were sensed by the Blood God. The killing aura surged once more.
"Faithless one!"
A phantom incarnation of the God of slaughter and war appeared—its burning blood-shadow so horrific it seemed ready to punish this believer who dared to doubt.
"Blood God, our faithless disloyalty has profaned You…"
At that sight, the greater daemon felt as if his heart were clenched in a fist. The breath of death followed close behind.
He and his daemon host panicked, dropping to their knees to beg forgiveness, willing to accept the God of slaughter and war's punishment.
When the Blood God's phantom dispersed, they realized in a daze that they had been scammed again.
So much so that they had offered up all their faith and warp power.
And it wasn't just this greater daemon. More Chaos entities were deceived. The types of scam visions were endless.
Beyond the Chaos Gods' images, there were even visions using the likenesses of many great daemons.
"I am the Blood God. Launch war at once and destroy the domains of the other Gods' believers. You will become the next Daemon Prince!"
"I am the Lord of Pleasure. For every enemy Chaos domain you destroy, I'll whip the Blood God once!"
"I am Ka'Bandha. If you're my brother, then come with me and smash all enemies, and offer endless slaughter to the great Blood God!"
The images of Chaos Gods and great daemons were used to manufacture all manner of deceit—sweet or vicious—stoking believers into warring against one another.
Among them were meticulously constructed cons.
Gurgle… gurgle…
In one vision, Grandfather Nurgle simmered a huge cauldron of soup—plague broth that could grant Nurgle's daemons endless power.
He was so "generous," willing to bestow it upon any who were chosen by the Sevenfold Plague.
Drool ran from the mouths of Nurgle's daemons as they offered "the Grandfather" their loyalty and faith.
Crack!
The Lord of Pleasure's venom-whip lashed viciously across Bulgaria the Fallen Phoenix, imposing boundless ecstasy.
Then He kicked away the Fallen Phoenix, who wept like a pathetic sycophant, and pronounced a new divine decree: recruiting fresh masochists.
Those chosen would gain the chance to enter the Palace of Pleasure and ascend the royal couch, thereby enjoying infinite ecstasy.
This drove Slaanesh's believers into a frenzy, offering up everything.
There were other new "routines" too—high-ranking Daemonettes knocking on doors, stuffing little Chaos ads and small cards everywhere, making those pleasure-worshiping nobles' hearts flutter.
Segmentum Solar, a hive world.
"Ah, what exquisite ecstasy. I received a response…"
Within a palace encrusted with gemstones and crystals, the high lord Savath was jubilant, to the point he lost interest in the veiled handmaidens around him.
He no longer even felt the urge to pierce their skin and bodies with blades, letting them wail in agony in pools of blood.
Just moments ago, through a secret rite, Savath had received a message from the realm of pleasure.
It was a once-in-an-age opportunity—and it had fallen upon his head.
The most beautiful and most outstanding darling under the Lord of Pleasure—Zarakynel—had answered his message and offered terms Savath could not refuse.
His lifelong craving was finally about to be fulfilled: to become one of the Palace of Pleasure, gain eternal life, and enjoy torture and indulgence forever!
Savath stared at the vision: a stunning pale-white being with four arms and three pairs of snowy wings, and he sank into profound longing and obsession.
He wanted to make the trade immediately and plunge into the carnival of flesh and spirit.
"What favor… I have finally welcomed ascension…"
Savath forced down his wildly pounding heart, trying to steady his excitement.
For years he had concealed himself, becoming a high lord trusted by the Imperium, ruling a sector.
Now, at last, he faced a new journey.
The darling of pleasure, Zarakynel—"Bringer of Torments"—had chosen High Lord Savath to conceive a perfect daemon-womb.
If he accepted the bargain, he would be granted formidable pleasure-power and the opportunity to go to the Palace of Pleasure.
A gift beyond what any pleasure-worshiper could imagine: to revel with one of Slaanesh's highest-ranked darlings, and gain power.
And, even more, to enter the sacred land every pleasure-believer dreamed of—the paradise of indulgence: the Palace of Pleasure!
"Lord of Pleasure, I am willing to accept this gift!"
Savath hurriedly followed the Chaos ritual's requirements, contacted the darling, and sent over his information and location.
Those were necessary conditions.
He was only one chosen pleasure-believer among many. He still had to compete with other believers to earn Lady Zarakynel's approval.
But Savath believed he could claim final victory.
After all, over the years he had offered up hundreds of millions of lives to pleasure by countless means.
Yet before Savath could bask in excitement for long, he realized something was wrong.
He seemed to have sent his information to an unfamiliar region—and it was received instantly.
"What is happening?"
"Why has Lady Zarakynel not answered me? Did I fail to receive her favor?"
A thread of worry crept in, fear that he had missed his chance to conceive a daemon-womb with the Bringer of Torments.
A response came soon after—but not the one he wanted.
"Savath, I am Inquisitor Greyfax. The Ordo Hereticus has accepted your surrender. Please wait patiently where you are…"
At some unknown time, Inquisitorial vessels had arrived in orbit above the planet, coming to arrest the heretic traitor.
Hearing this, the high lord's face turned deathly pale, and all strength left his body.
It was as if he had fallen into some vicious, expensive fertility scam—bringing about an irreversible fate.
…
Hummm—
In another vision, the Changer of Ways cast out vast amounts of Chaos lore and psychic knowledge, including many treasure maps.
Those "gifts" required warp-tainted faith to unlock.
This, too, drove Tzeentch's believers, Chaos sorcerers, and ambitious schemers into madness.
"Praise the Changer of Ways!"
Within a Chaos domain.
A Word Bearer sorcerer, using a ritual array, offered up immense warp-tainted faith and rare materials, finally receiving the Changer of Ways' "gift."
It was a forbidden book.
He vaguely sensed its contents—taboo knowledge that even the Chaos Gods would fear.
"Could that be the coordinates of the Secret Library, knowledge left behind by the Old Ones, or the Warp's deepest hidden secrets?!"
The Word Bearer sorcerer cradled the forbidden book, hands trembling.
He had emptied all his lore and Chaos wealth, laid down dozens of Chaos arrays, and sacrificed oceans of materials—only then could he obtain this gift of incalculable value.
At first, the Chaos sorcerer hesitated.
The Changer of Ways' knowledge often carried deception. But once he saw the forbidden book, he could no longer suppress his greed for knowledge.
By his experience and learning, the book surely contained unimaginable taboos.
He carefully flipped it open, yearning for the galaxy's—and the Warp's—most coveted secret.
"Changer of Ways…"
In the next moment, seeing what was inside, he froze in place, face filled with disbelief.
As though he had been frightened.
He truly had seen Warp's most forbidden content—secrets the Chaos Gods themselves would never reveal.
All the text and pictures in the forbidden book began to move, forming flowing imagery.
It seemed to be a real recorded scene:
The Lord of Pleasure wore brass armor and whipped the Bulgaria Blood God with a blood-whip. A "cute" Nurgle with red lips bathed with the Changer of Ways' big crow in a cauldron, splashing and flirting.
Such scenes were indeed the Warp's most terrifying taboo—something that would get anyone murdered and silenced by the Chaos Gods if they saw it.
But it wasn't knowledge. It was useless beyond danger!
"This is deceit. Absolute deceit. Who set such a vicious trap?!"
The forbidden book slipped from the Word Bearer sorcerer's hands. He trembled violently, hot tears streaming down his face.
He had exhausted everything, arranged dozens of ritual arrays, offered up mountains of materials—and got a blasphemous video clip?
This was the most shameless scam trap in the Warp. The Changer of Ways was so vile!
That was one of Eden's vision-traps.
He packaged taboo "information" into books and secrets, luring Tzeentch's believers and Chaos sorcerers into paying an enormous price in sacrifices to obtain them.
Then, once they opened them, they discovered nothing but "passionate scenes" of the Chaos Gods—highly stimulating.
And utterly mind-breaking.
It was like some poor guy finally found a link, paid a fortune for a membership and accelerator, then endured awful Wi-Fi delays and stuttering for ages—only to download a several-hundred-gig "high-definition art masterpiece" with a headline like "one woman, seven men" and "multi-person."
He finally set the mood, got the tissues ready, braced himself—
And when he opened it, familiar music played.
It was Calabash Brothers.
What misery could surpass that?
At that moment, the Word Bearer Chaos sorcerer collapsed into despair, bankrupt, kneeling on the ground and wailing, but he soon remembered something—terror flashing in his eyes.
Too late.
Splurt—
In his grief, the Word Bearer sorcerer had his face flayed off. He fell to the ground, shrieking in agony.
"Trash!"
In a vast, solemn Chaos hall, a dreadful figure sat upon a throne, hidden within black Warp-mist. Within it, countless black eyes could be faintly seen.
Its claw held the sorcerer's bloody face-skin.
"You have all been deceived—so have the Gods themselves."
"That Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, uses the Gods' power to spread crude scams and traps everywhere, siphoning vast amounts of warp-tainted faith."
The dreadful figure gave a cold laugh.
"Soon the Warp will descend into chaos, and that will be our opportunity. A new bargain is about to be struck, and the legends of old will return."
"The Imperium and the galaxy will belong to us!"
As the dreadful figure spoke, Chaos surged and roared, rising into a new tide.
Within the hall, numerous Chaos warriors and mighty daemons prostrated themselves, as if welcoming an emperor.
"What is that guy babbling about? If you didn't know better, you'd think he was somebody important."
Through the forbidden book's connection, Eden faintly noticed a peculiar entity hidden inside the Chaos mist.
But he did not pay it much attention.
His opponents were the Chaos Gods. Other existences were outside his business scope for now—at most, he could hand them off to other high-ranking warriors under his command.
Eden shoved the incident aside and continued projecting more vision-traps across the galaxy.
He did not have much time.
Each batch of illusion-traps meant a massive influx of warp-tainted faith and Chaos resources—pure profit.
It was like ripping an ocean of faith straight out of the Chaos Gods' pockets: profit beyond profit.
In only this short time, the Sun of Hope's power was skyrocketing, and every authority was rapidly climbing.
Eden realized he was drawing closer to true godhood. He could even sense the existence of apotheosis paths, vaguely tempting him to set foot upon that road.
Any being whose strength approached that of a true god could discover those apotheosis paths, and their seduction would grow stronger and stronger—
Until it became impossible to resist.
"That's not happening. If I ascend before the Emperor, the joke writes itself."
Eden resisted the temptation, not daring to touch those dangerous paths of divinity.
He did not even dare to approach them, let alone step onto one.
Whether he could succeed was one thing. But if he truly, accidentally, pushed himself up there and became the Warp's Fifth Dark God—
Wouldn't the Emperor "clean house" on the spot?!
"They're here…"
Suddenly, his expression changed sharply. He looked up.
At some unknown time, the sky-vault of the pleasure-illusion had been torn open, and four dreadful divine phantoms were gazing down upon him.
Before those colossal Dark God projections, Eden's body was as tiny and insignificant as an ant.
But he still stood firm.
(End of Chapter)
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