"Hiss…"
Just how much does the Khan love that precious bike of his, that he'd actually materialize the very nature of his Warp-essence into the form of a motorcycle-style conveyance…
Eden stared at that sleek, dark-gold-trimmed vehicle radiating pure white light, cool as an eagle of the galaxy, and he could not help feeling a little jealous.
It really did look incredible, and it was clearly a high-tier, artifact-grade divine relic.
More importantly, with that thing, you could go anywhere, even tear-ass through the Warp itself.
He could faintly sense the conceptual core of his brother's Warp-essence: unstoppable forward momentum, and freedom unbound.
Like an eagle of Chogoris, soaring free.
Under the Khan's fierce will, that Warp-essence had manifested within the galaxy in the shape of a motorized conveyance.
It was much like Lion's essence—Caliban's forests—both of them externalizations of a conceptual nature.
And the name of this Warp-essence spread outward with the psychic fluctuations—
Eagle of the Galaxy!
"It's here!"
Eden did not hesitate for an instant. With a burst of speed, he vaulted onto his good brother's brand-new beloved ride.
The Khan's awakening had come at the perfect time—just in time to deliver him to the forging platform for rearmament.
In a situation like this, reaching that platform by purely physical means was the most reliable approach.
The moment he mounted, the Eagle of the Galaxy's engine let out a furious roar, turning into a streak of white light that blasted forward.
"Don't even think about running. You must remain within this delicious filth!"
The Great Unclean One of Nurgle—still bloated from devouring wreckage, a mountain of flesh—raised a rotting palm, trying to stop the Savior and the White Scars Primarch.
But it could not keep up with the Eagle of the Galaxy at all. Its decayed hand slapped empty air—then it realized the Warp-vehicle was charging straight at it.
The psychic pressure and threat radiating off it were overwhelmingly intense!
Bang—
The Great Unclean One took the full impact, crashing backward. Its body was crushed beneath the vehicle as it rolled over it—like a pitiful speed bump.
Then, with the daemon beneath its wheels, the Eagle of the Galaxy ramped upward into a leaping ascent, smashed through the ruin-cage the Dark Gods had set, and punched out into open space.
The shockwave trailing behind it kicked up filth tens of meters high.
At that moment, Lion and Perturabo—charging toward this side—were splashed head-to-toe.
Both Primarchs, drenched in grime, watched the Eagle of the Galaxy streak away through the void with the Savior and the White Scars Primarch on its back, and they were completely stunned.
"I'm not on the ride yet!"
"We're not on the ride yet, brother!"
Very quickly, the Nurgle daemons swarmed in again, eyeing the two weakened Primarchs like hungry predators.
Lion looked at the scene and went numb.
They were already exhausted to the limit, in no condition to handle this many Chaos daemons—but the Khan's choice really was the correct one.
Stopping daemon Angron, stopping the Chaos Gods from destroying the forging platform—that was what mattered most.
Still… no matter what, getting left behind by the Savior driving off without them stung more than a little.
"Brother, it's just us now."
Lion and the Lord of Iron stood back-to-back, fists clenched, facing the ring of Nurgle daemons. "We have to hold until Eden deals with the gods' threat…"
"I can still stand. Question is whether you can."
Perturabo trembled all over. Sparks spat from the Logos Armour as he forced himself to maintain his posture.
He had already realized this would be a fight to the death.
"Hmph. I'll show you the will of the Knights of Caliban!"
Lion said it like a vow.
Then the two of them threw themselves at the Nurgle daemons with grim resolve.
They were going all-in!
And yet—what Lion and Perturabo did not expect was that the Nurgle daemons weren't ferocious at all. They even avoided them.
As though, so long as the two Primarchs did not attempt to leave, the daemons had no intention of fighting to the death.
The two sides quickly fell into a deadlock. Several exchanges passed, and neither side even broke skin.
???
Lion and Perturabo were baffled. What was going on? Were those Chaos daemons slacking off?
But they had no time to dig into it. All they could do was stay alert while "acting it out" with the Nurgle daemons.
Because, in truth, they really did not have much strength left.
"The Glutton Lord was right. As Grandfather's cherished children, we shouldn't be brawling and killing. We should focus on brewing the most delicious plague stew."
The mountain-flesh Great Unclean One stared at the two Primarchs, thinking this to itself.
Nurgle's command was for his children to obstruct the Primarchs as much as possible—to prevent them from leaving this place.
They would just do that.
As for the Savior breaking out… there was nothing to be done about it.
Across the galaxy, there were not many daemons capable of stopping that loathsome, accursed existence. They had already done their best.
That Great Unclean One had no desire to risk its life against Primarchs—lest, in desperation, the Primarchs deal it a crippling wound.
These Nurgle entities all belonged to the line of Nurgle's foremost favorite, a Great Unclean One—
Barag the Glutton.
Ever since the disaster in the Plague Garden, that Glutton—born of the Skaven—had come to despise war, instead devoting himself to the study of plague stew.
He swore he would create the most disgusting, most fetid stew in the universe—specifically engineered to target other daemons.
Not only that, he began preaching the "lie-flat" philosophy.
He taught everyone how to respond to Grandfather's orders in a way that better preserved themselves—earning more time to sunbathe in the Garden and boil soup.
"We're only getting that much reward. Why risk our lives for it…"
That was Barag's catchphrase, and it won broad support and devotion among many Nurgle daemons.
Under his influence, countless Nurgle daemons began working with passive resistance, focusing on sunbathing or hunting ingredients to cook stew.
They also stopped caring much about marching into the human world to conquer cities or spread plague.
That required all that exhausting effort—crossing the veil of the Warp—and the cost-performance ratio just wasn't good.
They would rather run experiments with plague stew in other Chaos daemons' territories—toss the stew and run. That way they could still get rewards from the corrosion of plague.
Under the four-armed Savior's covert guidance, Barag had walked a new road.
Even if Grandfather did not particularly like some of his theories, he still tolerated these harmless little shortcomings.
Because Barag's contributions were greater.
The special stews he brewed could help Nurgle's Garden gain more advantage in the Great Game, on the battlefields of the High Heavens.
They made daemons recoil in terror—turning tail and fleeing.
That was what stabilized Nurgle's position after severe damage—maintaining equilibrium, preventing the other gods from carving up territory that should have belonged to Nurgle.
From that perspective, Barag the Glutton—master of the foul stew—was the Garden's greatest contributor.
Not long after, Lion and Perturabo stopped pretending entirely.
One side leaned against the ruins to rest.
The other side hauled cauldrons out of their bellies and began boiling stew with a loud, gurgling glug-glug-glug.
…
Not long ago, elsewhere.
Eden rode the Eagle of the Galaxy, blasting through the physical obstacles the Chaos Gods had erected, charging toward the platform region.
At first, he was tense—unsure whether the speed of the Khan's Warp-essence could catch daemon Angron.
But soon he relaxed.
"No wonder he's the galaxy's best at shock assault. He's even faster than I expected!"
The Eagle of the Galaxy tore through the void as though it were flat ground. Those labyrinthine fields of wreckage could not hinder it at all.
Before long, Eden spotted daemon Angron's silhouette—and the forging platform drew nearer and nearer.
"Brother, the war-eagle of Chogoris will be faster than that thing!"
The Khan seemed to have adapted to his own Warp-essence, pushing the speed even higher.
The Eagle of the Galaxy's velocity caused the void to warp subtly—then it vanished, leaving only a white afterimage.
At an even more terrifying speed, it overtook daemon Angron.
"The Savior caught up?!"
At that moment, the Chaos Gods sensed the change. They manipulated daemon Angron to turn his head, and the two sides aligned—staring at one another in parallel.
Because both were moving so fast, time seemed to slow, the scene unfolding like slow motion.
In the Chaos Gods' vision, the Savior raised both hands, extended his middle fingers, and flashed an extremely smug grin.
Then a psychic message came through:
"Warp parasites. What era is this that you're still flying with wings? Pathetic."
The Chaos Gods could naturally interpret the insulting gesture and the contempt in his words, and they instantly erupted in fury.
Daemon Angron, influenced by the gods' emotions, visibly "heated up"—flushing with rage.
What blasphemy. The Savior dared to insult the true gods of the Warp?!
The gods drove daemon Angron to thrust out a hand, trying to seize the Eagle of the Galaxy.
But the contact lasted only a split instant. The claw had barely reached out—
whoosh—
and the Eagle of the Galaxy shot past.
The Savior and the Khan left behind only a handsome silhouette. The Warp-vehicle's exhaust even blasted straight into the face of the possessed daemon-body, scorching it black.
Whew~
Charge, charge!
The Khan was exhilarated—an unprecedented sensation of speed and freedom.
He twisted the throttle to the limit, carrying the Savior away into the distance.
Eat my exhaust!
Behind them, daemon Angron roared with fury, and the Chaos Gods were clearly enraged beyond measure.
"This speed is something else. Even shipborne batteries probably can't keep up—can't hit us!"
Eden could not help but marvel.
From now on, his brother's shock-assault tactics would likely make enemies tremble.
Unfortunately, this was the galaxy. Only here could they outpace the Chaos Gods like this. In the Warp, it would not be so easy.
Within the Warp, they were true gods—wielding powers that could shatter worlds and even reshape space and matter.
If they could also possess a speed that surpassed the gods even inside the Warp… then they would be winning so hard it would be ridiculous. They could drop in from time to time, stab them right in the ass—
Then run.
"That might not be impossible. Once the Sun of Hope has stronger support capabilities, maybe it can help the Eagle of the Galaxy grow even stronger."
Eden thought as much.
They were moving at insane speed. A distance that should have been vast was crossed in mere dozens of seconds. The forging platform became clear—close enough to touch.
Suddenly, his psychic senses caught a heavy, concentrated threat. He turned his head and saw daemon Angron had begun to close the distance.
"They're going all-out? Spending that much to do it?"
In Eden's psychic vision, the Chaos Gods were unleashing their authority like a reservoir in flood, pouring power into daemon Angron to force even greater speed.
Not only that, they stirred Warp-storms, imposing their influence upon this realspace region.
The Eagle of the Galaxy began to buck and sway in the storm, forced to dodge sudden rifts and lunging daemons.
Daemons erupted from the void like rainfall, obstructing the Eagle of the Galaxy's advance.
Worse still, daemon Angron's body suddenly extruded more "rapture tentacles," lashing out at extreme speed.
Those tentacles were wildly frenzied, radiating thick, hungry desire, as though they meant to seize them—penetrating any and every opening.
It made one's ass clench on instinct.
"Too dangerous. The Prince of Pleasure is truly venomous…"
Eden broke into a cold sweat. He might have mocked them a little too hard just now.
At the Eagle of the Galaxy's speed, it was difficult to evade that kind of snaring. And he himself was extremely weak—he could not possibly block those tentacles.
If he got caught—if the Prince of Pleasure decided to "play" with him in open space—he would be finished!
He slapped the Khan's shoulder, voice trembling slightly.
"Brother, give it more. Faster.
Otherwise we're in trouble."
"This is already the fastest speed…"
The Khan's forehead was beaded with sweat as well, clearly noticing the tentacles behind them, writhing and trying to burrow in.
But the Warp-storm and the daemonic interference were too severe. The Eagle of the Galaxy could not break free of the pursuit zone.
At this rate, they might not reach the forging platform at all.
In a single instant, the Khan made his decision—so decisive his voice came out hoarse.
"Brother. You go to the platform. I'll hold off those abominable strikes!"
As he spoke, he seized the Savior's hand, then snapped into a high-speed fishtail—
and flung the Savior away.
"What?!"
Eden had not even processed it before he was hurled outward, flying toward the forging platform.
Mid-flight, he saw his brother's resolute eyes, and he instantly understood the Khan's intent.
His brother meant to face the Prince of Pleasure's venomous tentacles alone, buying him time.
Only he—newly awakened to his Warp-essence, his strength restored—had the ability to stop the Prince of Pleasure's assault.
"Brother!"
Eden watched the Khan nod to him, then turn and drive the Eagle of the Galaxy straight into the vile tentacles, and his eyes grew wet.
He knew exactly what danger his brother was choosing.
If his brother was caught and could not be rescued in time, he would die amid unbearable torment.
Eden could not afford hesitation. He adjusted his posture at once, using inertia to rocket toward the forging platform.
And it got worse—more and more daemons filled the void. Even the forging platform itself had daemons upon it.
If he was stopped in open space, he would lose his chance to reach the platform.
"Savior!"
"Kill that loathsome thing!"
The Greater Daemons and the lesser daemons were practically vibrating with excitement.
They had sensed the Savior's condition. This existence—infamous in the Warp, feared as the daemon-devourer who made daemons fall silent—was weaker than ever before.
His armour had lost power. His stamina and psychic might were exhausted.
It was the perfect time to hunt him down.
Fortunately, Eden had enough luck. Before the daemons could complete the encirclement, he slipped through a gap in the closing ring.
A swarm of daemons pursued him like hornets.
He felt death's breath on his neck. So many daemons—if each one so much as poked him once, he would die from sheer accumulation.
His flesh was not as hard as auramite. Worse, some daemons' claws were practically power swords.
The greater danger was time itself. If daemon Angron caught up, Eden might lose the opportunity to defeat him. His backup measures would have a lower chance of success.
"I'm there!"
Eden's heart lifted. He was fast enough—before the swarm caught him, he reached the platform.
He landed with a wet splut on the platform surface, then used inertia and rebound to rise into a poised stance—elegant, dignified, perfectly smooth.
It had become instinct. The Savior always maintained the best possible image.
Once he steadied himself, Eden stared at the daemons on the platform.
The daemons, who had been roaring and surging forward, suddenly went quiet.
This was why establishing authority mattered. Even if he was weak to the extreme, as long as he carried even a thread of presence—
he could intimidate.
Some tyrants, even on the verge of death, still paralyze others with fear unless people are certain they are truly dead.
Sometimes they have to wait until the corpse rots before the terror fades.
The daemons were the same.
The Savior's infamous reputation, the horror of the daemon-devourer, had long been carved into their very minds.
They were afraid. None of them dared to be the first to rush him.
"This won't last long.
Once a single daemon moves, it'll collapse like stacked blocks—then all of them will rush at once…"
Eden forced himself to hold posture, instantly judging the situation.
Seizing the daemons' stunned hesitation, he acted decisively.
He suddenly raised his final weapon—
the blackpowder pistol he usually wore as decoration.
That weapon could fire a miniature black hole, but firing it at this distance would obviously affect him too, and it would not wipe out all the daemons anyway.
Bang—
At the instant the Savior raised the weapon to fire, Chaos daemons erupted into chaos—instinctively avoiding it, dodging sideways.
It gave Eden an opening.
With the last remnants of psychic strength supporting him, he shot out of the encirclement like a dart, charging toward the hangar entrance.
He slid in low, slipping through as the entrance activated—then it slammed shut with a thunderous crash.
The daemons were sealed outside.
Only after they smelled the cheap blackpowder and saw the Savior's vanishing back did they snap out of it.
Then came excitement.
The Savior was running. That loathsome, accursed existence had lost his power—he no longer had the ability to resist!
Roar—
Daemons howled in frenzied exhilaration.
This was an opportunity like none other—an opportunity to kill the Savior.
Any daemon that slew that loathsome, accursed existence would earn eternal glory, perhaps even ascend immediately into the upper ranks of Greater Daemons!
They surged forward, ripping at the hangar door. Massive cracks spread. The door shook on the verge of collapse.
Just a little more. Just a little faster, and they could kill the Savior!
"You have nowhere left to run!"
"Hahahahaha! The daemon-devourer is pathetic at last!"
Chaos daemons shouted, mocking and humiliating the Savior, then poured into the dim hangar interior.
Yet at this moment, Eden was not worried in the slightest.
He had already obtained the armament he had spent so long constructing.
No matter how many daemons came, he had nothing to fear.
They were the ones who should be terrified.
That was a creation even the gods would dread. In moments, he would sortie in a new form!
Armament… activate!!!
"Daemon-devourer, you can't escape. Offer up your head."
The Greater Daemons led their horde deeper into the hangar. They could sense the Savior was here.
Then they burst into a region filled with countless sacred statues.
Something activated, radiating an ominous, accursed aura.
???!
When the Chaos daemons saw the horror before them, they nearly lost the capacity to think. A terror they could not suppress surged up inside them.
Before their eyes stood a throne of gold.
Its base was built from the remains and statues of living saints.
Above it rose a mechanical seat formed of countless pieces of auramite.
It was as though it were the most magnificent—and most torturous—construct in the universe.
More terrifying still, every extended cable and mechanical conduit connected to a towering, loathsome skeleton.
That aura was so familiar, as though something had seized their hearts and was slowly tightening.
Even the Greater Daemons' bodies began to tremble uncontrollably!
The… Golden Throne.
The accursed one?!
Where the hell did this take me?
Is this still the galaxy's Chaos domain—how did it throw me into the Imperial Palace on Terra?!
The Chaos daemons went cold with fear.
Especially when the Golden Throne began to thunder, energy flowing, and the accursed skeleton's vicious, blood-red mechanical cyclopean eye lit up—staring straight at them.
"Blood God…"
"Grandfather, save me!"
The Chaos daemons were so terrified they could not move. The Greater Daemons' legs turned to noodles, and more daemons simply fainted on the spot.
Then, under their horrified gaze— the Golden Throne floated up, rising higher and higher.
(End of Chapter)
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