The void was burning.
Some might consider this a metaphor, using exaggerated words to describe a battlefield.
But the chroniclers stationed on the front lines of the battlefield would not think so.
Because they saw with their own eyes that the void was indeed burning.
Eerie witch-fire poured forth from the warp, scorching the shell of reality.
Evil radiance permeated the air, outlining scenes of absolute horror.
Cold space was invaded by unspeakable things, countless tentacles larger than planets reached out from the aetheric ocean, and innumerable weeping souls shrieked on the surface of the tentacles.
If one were to get close to those tentacles, they would see faces of despair and writhing, grotesque bodies. They shrieked, yearning for a salvation they would never receive. The real world and the unreal world had merged.
A moon-sized red eyeball emerged from the boiling warp ocean, carrying an indescribable, terrifying malice and madness. Those unspeakable horrors possessed vicious teeth the length of continents.
Majestic mountains were mere hairs and tumors on their bodies.
Wings capable of eclipsing stars unfolded and curled in the void. Tongues that could wrap around entire stars dripped thick, foul-smelling mucus, rotting and regenerating in an instant.
No words could describe the evil that boiled and took on real form. This was the battlefield of humanity and the Watchers.
A true war of the heavens.
Waged by two powerful forces that wielded incredible power.
Colossus-class battleships were torn apart by unimaginable might.
Dense protective fields were disabled, and defensive walls forged from plasteel and high-density alloys were ripped open like paper.
Shattered wreckage was scattered throughout the void, with countless bodies mixed among it. The war between humanity and the Watchers had torn apart the fabric of the universe.
Permanently destroying some crucial elements, leaving this universe broken. The warp reappeared in the wake of their war, like greedy piranhas scenting blood.
Countless personnel were working desperately to salvage the Imperium's assets.
Maintenance automatons surged out in batches, welding and sealing depressurized tunnels.
Countless pieces of wreckage drifted in the void, both human and enemy.
Death was as simple and casual as breathing. The might of the Watcher legions far surpassed that of the so-called superheroes.
So far, the Imperium had not gathered enough information about this universe. They still only had a partial understanding of the power behind this universe.
Every powerful civilization knew how to protect itself.
And so did those powerful individuals. They would conceal the records of their civilization behind the universe, preventing invaders from reading everything about them. Terra had adopted a Christian name for the enemy, calling it the Most High God.
It is said that this name was personally approved by the Emperor.
Many believed this was merely symbolic and metaphorical.
Even those in the Crusade fleets thought so.
During the conquest of parallel universes, who knows how many 'gods' had been slain by the sharp blades of the Imperial legions. Those deities, formed by human dreams and faith, had only two fates: either submit to the rule of the Emperor and pledge eternal loyalty to Him, or be killed, their heads hung in the palaces where they once resided.
Using this name had its significance.
In the Bible, God always refers to those who believe in Him as lambs, and priests call themselves God's shepherds. This is a very peculiar metaphor.
And it fits this universe perfectly as well. The lambs of God would always attribute all difficulties to their lack of piety.
Believing that suffering was God's will, and they only needed to endure in silence to purify their souls and eventually enter heaven. This universe was the same; the Most High God herded all parallel universes. Those souls, traumatized by artificially designed suffering, were then sent into the mouth of the Most High God.
Like lambs in a sheepfold, docile.
When the fence broke, they would even actively block the gap, preventing other lambs from escaping.
Didn't the actions of those superheroes perfectly embody this?
Sanguinius stood on the bridge of a shattered colossus-class battleship, on the verge of splitting apart.
He surveyed the battlefield through countless screens, evaluating the progress of every battle.
War had erupted between reality and the unreal. The pawns of the Most High God wielded extraordinary psyker power.
Sanguinius estimated that its power should be no weaker than that of the Four Gods.
In fact, such a comparison was meaningless, serving only to give a direct understanding of the enemy's strength. The Imperium's great enemy was Chaos.
Even if the Four Gods were destroyed, if Chaos was not eradicated, new Four Gods would emerge.
As the saying goes, one God falls, and thousands upon thousands of Gods rise up. The strength or weakness of the Most High God was irrelevant.
Sanguinius only needed to know one thing: it was an enemy of the Imperium, and that was enough.
He was unsure if the Most High God had noticed this battle erupting on the edge of the universe.
Perhaps it had noticed, viewing it as a game and a gamble.
Or perhaps it was busy fighting other unimaginable entities, completely uninterested in these matters.
Even if humanity seized the entire universe, they would only be taking a single feeding ground.
Who knew how many feeding grounds it possessed?
The Watcher legions could command massive beasts, composed of both real and unreal matter, to fight. The size of those beasts was beyond imagination. Their scale had to be measured in astronomical units.
Like the mythical giant wolves and tengu capable of easily devouring the moon and the sun. Those beasts were that colossal.
Anyone who saw them would believe they survived by devouring planets.
When hungry, they would eat a planet like a snack.
When Sanguinius saw those terrifying beasts, his mind was filled with images of them casually gnawing on planets.
If they didn't eat planets, it was hard to imagine what could sustain such beasts. The laws of reality could no longer impose any restrictions on such colossal beings. The Imperium had assembled ten colossus-class battleships, tens of thousands of battleships, and countless smaller warships like cruiser strike craft. The scattered wreckage fragments in the void were mostly Imperial.
As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but wreckage.
Stretching for millions of kilometers.
When those beasts were killed, their bodies would turn into countless ashes in the void, not even a single bone remaining. They simply vanished into the dark, boundless air.
Only the wreckage of Imperial ships remained here, tumbling, swept along by the turbulent aetheric ocean, some of which would be pulled into the depths of the warp, permanently trapped there.
Sanguinius was not greatly surprised by these bizarre scenes. Ten thousand years ago, when he, Russ, and Guilliman learned that the Emperor had not fallen and Terra still stood, they had set sail from Macragge, preparing to cross the warp storm and head for Imperial Terra.
That journey had shown him the horror of the warp. To stop them, the Gods of the Warp had created some incredibly massive structures along the way. The sheer scale of those structures was astonishing. The height and length of a single wall had to be measured in light-years.
Daemonic turrets forged from brass, fire, and iron were spread across them, their scale magnificent, comparable to a world. The mere existence of such things was enough to inspire despair.
Were it not for the fact that those structures required an anchor point to exist in reality.
Impossible things must be attached to real objects. Transporting and converging materials from the warp via the anchor point, then transforming them into stable reality matter.
Defining the warp as impossible is always a mistake; the vast aetheric ocean contains infinite possibilities.
Information from various squads appeared before Sanguinius. Their red dots were displayed within the complex Watcher fortress, steadily advancing. The radiance reflected on that noble face, which inspired countless citizens of the Imperium.
Pure white wings spread behind him.
His existence was hope itself. The salvation humanity craved.
He was his brother's Angel of War, the executor of the Emperor's will to destroy.
"In the name of my brother, this place must fall into the hands of the Imperium." Sanguinius reached out and pointed towards the bizarre fortress.
He would bring destruction to those abominable enemies. The Emperor's vision had been shattered once, and now they would never allow such things to happen again.
Any enemy that stood against humanity would be consumed by endless fury.
Primaris warriors continuously boarded the strange fortress.
In flashes of teleportation, they charged fearlessly towards death.
"This world is repulsive." Aureus, Chapter Master of the Absolvers Chapter, stepped out of the flash, looking at the strange structures in the distance, a hazy radiance and mist shrouding the magnificent buildings that extended at impossible angles.
"Just destroy it," said Hirak, the Chapter's Librarian, shrugging. "No matter what kind of enemy they are, we should grant them death in the name of the Emperor."
"A time shockwave is heading towards us. Estimated thirty seconds until impact. We need to assume defensive posture," the Tech-Sergeant interrupted the conversation between the Chapter Master and the Librarian, stating the imminent crisis clearly and concisely.
Aureus looked in the direction the Tech-Sergeant pointed.
A strange ripple approached like a wave.
As if they were standing in an ocean. Time shockwaves are a unique defensive measure of the Watcher Army. They are released periodically. The first Imperial forces attempting to land were unaware of the enemy's attack method. They were hit by the time wave undefended, turning to dust in less than a ten-thousandth of a second. Their armor was mottled and rusted, as if it had endured millions of years of decay.
"Defensive posture," Aureus ordered his warriors to gather together and activate their time field protection.
A translucent dome enveloped them. The time shockwave swept past their position. Time flowed by in a disjointed manner.
Aureus and the others felt a sense of unease.
Humans are not purely temporal beings; such attacks would cause them discomfort.
"It's getting more and more disgusting," Aureus did not hide his inner revulsion. After the first wave of attack passed, he issued a new order, "Advance! Let our swords be stained with blood!"
They had to run a certain distance to enter the fortress. The Imperium's teleportation devices could not fully transport such a massive military force into a fortress protected by a time field.
Attempting to do so by force would only turn the Imperial warriors into corpses or dust.
More and more teleportation flashes lit up around Aureus and his comrades.
More Primaris Marines stepped out of them. They converged into a tide of destruction, charging towards the enemy's fortress.
Some psyker behemoths would suddenly appear from rifts in the sky. They possessed bizarre limbs and abilities. Their sharp claws could tear through the armor and bodies of Primaris Marines. The warriors would charge forward, shouting slogans for the Emperor, and hack them into pieces.
Aureus and his comrades were among them. They charged across the blood-stained battlefield, filled with screams and death. The Watchers were powerful, but they were not as powerful as Aureus and his men. They possessed weapons capable of unleashing various high-powered attacks.
Black holes, time, space, etc., everything was turned into a weapon by them.
But those things couldn't kill Primaris Marines.
As long as they were careful enough, Primaris Marines could evade that damage.
When the technological level of both sides reached a certain point, long-range attacks became ineffective. The sea can submerge the land, but it cannot shatter a smooth pebble. The attack range of large-scale weapons is indeed vast.
But their lethality against individuals is very poor. The means of warfare have been constantly evolving.
From stone tools in the primitive era, to firearms in the industrial age, to lances in the aerospace age, and now, rule-based weapons. The weapons mastered by living beings are becoming increasingly powerful; destroying stars and destroying universes are no longer fantasies.
Logically speaking, warfare should become increasingly high-tech, with fewer people involved in the process.
Unfortunately, as offensive capabilities have strengthened, defensive measures have also continuously changed.
After entering the industrial age, humanity mastered the means of ultra-long-range strikes regardless of distance, using various missiles to destroy enemies from afar.
Large-scale battles became impractical.
One side gathered hundreds of thousands of tanks, while the other controlled missiles remotely to bombard them, directly wiping out the tank formations from a distance.
It wasn't until the appearance of void shields that all of humanity's over-the-horizon long-range weapons became ineffective against them.
Void shields could transfer any object or energy exceeding a certain speed entirely into the warp.
Human missiles and nuclear bombs could no longer pose a fatal threat. The enhancement of interference methods also caused ultra-long-range missiles to lose their original power.
If they can't hit accurately, no matter how powerful they are boasted to be, it's useless. Technological progress has caused warfare to revert to large-scale battles and close-quarters combat.
If it were unsystematic superheroes, the Imperium could eliminate them with a single concentrated fire. The more technology progresses, the less useful skirmishers become.
Warfare depends on the productivity and research capabilities behind both sides. To achieve ultimate victory, one must either compete in long-range attrition.
But as long as one can venture into the stars, everyone has nearly infinite energy: nuclear fusion, plasma fusion, various forms of geothermal energy, and so on.
Set up a generator, activate a shield, and both sides just throw missiles at each other from a distance.
More powerful ones might throw black holes, stars, or time rings, etc.
As long as the technology of both sides is on the same level.
Such a war could last for tens of thousands of years without either side suffering any actual losses.
Or they can only resort to the most primitive method, which is close combat.
Depleting the enemy's effective forces is considered victory in war.
Aureus charged into the enemy's ranks, his sword slicing through the air with a brilliant arc shimmering with metallic luster. The sharp blade struck the body, smooth as glass, effortlessly shattering it.
Fragments radiating faint light scattered in all directions amidst the screams of the Watcher Legion soldiers. Those fragments struck his armor, making slight impacts before bouncing away. The blade continued to slide in, its sub-atomic edge cutting through the vitreous body and silicon-based skeleton, disemboweling the enemy.
With a desperate death wail, a Watcher was split in two and crashed to the ground.
Aureus shook off the silver, metallic-looking blood from his sword and lunged towards the next enemy.
He ran, charging at the forefront, storming into the Watchers' defensive positions like a hurricane.
His heavily armored body leaped with unimaginable dexterity and agility, engaging in one slaughter after another.
His Librarian roared, holding a bolter in one hand and a force staff in the other. The bolter rounds were loaded with annihilation matter specifically designed to counteract the Watchers, inflicting lethal damage upon them. The force staff, on the other hand, shone with the radiance of the warp. In this realm where the illusory and reality combined, psyker power was greatly amplified.
Arcs of raging lightning burst from the void, striking the screaming enemies and causing their bodies to ignite with strange flames. The Primaris Marines fighting in the name of the Emperor were so fierce. They were unstoppable, brutally tearing through the enemy's defenses.
Some warriors fell; they were hit by enemy weapons and turned into grains of sand within a few breaths.
But no one felt sorrow for this; instead, they felt exhilaration.
Death is the most wonderful reward for the loyal.
It means they enter the embrace of the Emperor with honor and praise. The death realm established by the Emperor has been confirmed by Librarians of countless Chapters and officially recognized.
Every fallen warrior will be guided to the realm of the Emperor.
People no longer need to fear the void brought by death.
For humanity, this is a righteous war. The Imperium's victory is as unstoppable as the rising sun over Aureus's home world.
One day, they will carry the throne of the Emperor to the stars that all beings must look up to, making Him the true Lord of the Heavens.
As the battle to capture the fortress entered its most brutal climax.
Sanguinius spread his pure white wings.
He descended from the sky with his Honour Guard, plunging into the fiercest part of the battlefield.
Sanguinius' appearance drew even more fervent cheers from the warriors.
He descended like an angel of war from the heavens, bringing down unspeakable terrifying wrath and thunder. The immense impact even caused an explosion, creating countless cracks in the siliconized ground.
Holding a spear, he was like an ancient god of war, invincible in battle.
"In the name of the Emperor, kill!"
His voice resounded throughout the entire fortress battlefield. That's ten thousand words for today.
Let me reiterate the power level issue in this book: it's a competition of knowledge, understanding, and productivity.
Normally, higher-level warfare causes greater destruction, and close combat wouldn't exist.
But in the Warhammer world, there is defensive technology. A hive world with shields can easily withstand decades of orbital bombardment.
Close combat is righteous and reasonable.
All warfare turns into boarding actions.
"What kind of sacrifice do we need to make for humanity?"
In a private conversation that was never made public, nor would it be recorded by historians, Sanguinius once asked his brother this question.
"Everything."
Guilliman, upon hearing the question, did not turn around.
He stood by the viewport of the Macragge's Honor.
Gazing at the vast, boundless void, he spoke in a tone so calm it was infuriating.
Sanguinius did not continue to ask what "everything" in Guilliman's words encompassed.
Because he knew the ultimate answer without asking.
In a universe filled with false gods and no salvation, how could humanity achieve its ultimate redemption?
What price would they have to pay to find a glimmer of hope in a doomed situation?
The desperate, dark, and cruel universe offered no salvation.
But they could create a salvation for humanity.
Using their lives and courage to forge a path to the future. The Red Thirst and the Black Rage were no longer curses for the Blood Angels, nor for Sanguinius.
With Guilliman's help, they had become a blessing, an essential part of Sanguinius' very being.
Every Primarch was a child nurtured by both the Warp and the material world. They possessed endless potential. They were the young gods, and also the god-slayers.
Born destined for greatness.
Sanguinius let out a roar of extreme fury. The rage contained within it was pure and flawless, making all Khorne daemons and World Eaters envious. The Blood Angels were not the World Eaters.
Those fools were enslaved by Dark Age neural implants, controlled by artificial rage, like pathetic slaves. The Blood Angels' rage was innate, born from the betrayal and destruction of all that was good.
It was a pure rage, emanating from the heart.
It did not stem from helpless fury at their own fate, nor from hatred and animosity.
It came from protection, from the light they yearned to pursue. The Blood Angels' rage originated from Sanguinius' rage; they drew that fury from the noble soul of their gene-father.
After witnessing the Horus Heresy and the atrocities of the Warp,
Sanguinius' fury had never extinguished, like an eternal volcano, constantly burning, longing to devour all enemies of humanity.
His rage influenced his sons for ten millennia.
It was once thought to be a curse upon the Blood Angels.
However, it was not; their rage was pure, born for protection, not destruction.
After being resurrected by Guilliman with the most advanced technology, Sanguinius remained as furious as ever.
In his daily life, the demeanor he displayed was merely a disguise for that unparalleled rage.
His benevolent nature prevented him from unleashing his wrath upon the poor and weak.
He could only carefully control that fury, ensuring it did not harm the innocent.
His rage was so pure and fervent.
For this reason, the Chaos God Khorne had spared no effort to claim the Blood Angels and their Primarch.
Unfortunately, it ultimately did not get its wish.
Sanguinius' rage did not exist for that filthy god.
He and it were destined not to be on the same path.
Sanguinius' purity made countless Khorne daemons envious, and also filled them with worry and fear.
Primarchs possessed immortal qualities; the title of "young gods" alone was enough to illustrate their terrifying nature.
What terrified and frightened the daemons even more was the Primarchs' potential for growth.
No one knew if the exalted gods might one day be replaced.
Even immortals found it difficult to control all the variables in the vast, endless heavens and cosmos.
Upon landing, Sanguinius fell into a state of pure fury.
He transformed into a god of war amidst the enemy ranks, wantonly harvesting the lives of the xenos.
He was enraged by everything he had seen in Universe 02. Those high and mighty beings herded humans like livestock. Those foolish heroes allowed themselves to be blinded by false truths, deceived by false freedom and beauty.
He felt pity for those beings, and an infinite rage towards the so-called Supreme God.
And now, this rage was unleashed to its fullest.
On his noble face, his eyes had turned into pure black stone.
Like two smooth obsidian gems set into a perfect statue. The spear in Sanguinius' hand pierced every enemy who dared to approach him. The silicified bodies of the Watcher Legion soldiers were shattered by his blows.
He shook the sky with a dragon-like roar, and unparalleled fury burned on his body, transforming into visible radiance.
Nothing could stand in the way of a Primarch. They were born for destruction, born to kill the high and mighty, filthy gods.
Sanguinius was among the best of them. The Watchers let out terrified screams. They sensed an aura on that human similar to their master's. Though weak, it was far stronger than them, and possessed endless potential.
Any comrade who rushed forward would be destroyed by that winged human. The opponent was like a cruel, cold war machine; every strike took the life of a comrade.
No matter how strong those comrades were, they appeared fragile before that human. The opponent slaughtered every Watcher they saw. Their vitrified bodies turned into shattered crystal fragments, and blood stained the opponent's spear, reflecting the metallic gleam. The remaining comrades screamed and fled.
Even if they mastered the truths of the universe, they could not fight such a terrifying monster. That being should not be a creature of reality.
Sanguinius soared over the Imperial armies, who were shouting his name, and charged towards the enemy's last remaining fortress.
His wings were so powerful, the light emanating from them could counter the temporal distortions and extinction-level weapons raging on the battlefield.
His wings allowed him to effortlessly control the aether, as if it were an innate instinct. The Warp was not exclusive to the gods.
It was the mother of all things; everything that existed was born from its embrace. The gods were merely despicable usurpers. They seized control of the Warp and shamelessly declared it their exclusive domain.
It was like a cruel tyrant carving out a piece of land and demanding that generations of people living on that land acknowledge it as his private property.
Gold ornaments, precious red rubies, and tear-shaped gems hung from Sanguinius' armor. The armor, crafted from special high-density alloy, was so magnificent and ornate.
Its artistry seemed more suited to be displayed in the highest-level art museums.
Such noble and splendid armor made Sanguinius appear even more distinguished and inviolable.
He soared through the sky.
A strong, powerful hand grasped a golden spear.
Countless complex arcane runes covered it. The power of technology and magic flowed within it.
With every swing, the spear emanated an aura that terrified the gods.
His other hand held a blade crafted from crimson metal, bearing the name of his Primarch brother—Vulkan.
Vulkan had gifted his brother a crimson sword, blessing him with invincibility on the battlefield.
Guilliman had exhausted all available resources at the time to resurrect him, forging for him the most powerful divine body.
Even if Sanguinius were atomized and scattered across different universes, he would still return one day to bring vengeance to his enemies.
His powerful divine body granted him the ability to ignore enemy attacks.
All attacks directed at him would be dissipated by a thin, invisible, special barrier.
He was like a stubborn rock in a raging ocean. The terrifying ocean could engulf everything, yet it could not crush a small, stubborn rock.
He easily bypassed defense lines capable of pulverizing a galaxy and atomizing stars.
He plunged headfirst into the enemy ranks.
His high-speed flight delivered an impact force thousands of times greater than a battleship's macro-cannon shell. The Primarch landed, his war boot leaving a massive circular ripple on the crystalline surface.
A bizarre, special war machine made of silicon crystal became Sanguinius' first trophy upon charging into the enemy ranks. That war machine possessed an incredibly strange ability.
Its weapon could warp the spatio-temporal structure of the area it hit. The distorted spatio-temporal structure would tear apart anything claiming to be hard.
Some Primaris Marines were slaughtered by it; the misaligned spacetime ripped their bodies apart, scattering their broken limbs and flesh everywhere, falling from the sky like rain.
Sanguinius destroyed it the moment it attempted to lock onto him. The spear, imbued with the Imperium's most advanced technology, easily pierced and tore apart the vehicle. The Watchers' screams echoed in the air, but Sanguinius showed no mercy.
Another Watcher, gleaming with brilliant iridescent light, charged towards him.
Waves of temporal flux, capable of instantly corroding steel into rust, surged from its body. The Primaris Marines who got too close were unable to resist the terrifying flow of time, aging rapidly within seconds until they could no longer move, and were ultimately killed by the Monitors. The Monitor's arm glowed with a glassy radiance, and its scream carried unparalleled hatred and animosity.
Sanguinius responded in kind, his spear instantly piercing its body, and with a swing of his sword, he cut it in two.
He moved like lightning, his sword and spear dancing, slaughtering the xenos like mowing grass.
Leaving behind scattered limbs and severed arms. The xenos let out cries and screams of despair. They tried to kill Sanguinius, to change the tide of the battle.
But such efforts were destined to be futile. Their defeat was already sealed.
Behind Sanguinius, tens of thousands of Primaris Marines surged like a tide towards the Monitors' last stronghold. Their temporal defenses were shattered, and the launch platforms quickly fell.
The crystal high tower, glowing with an eerie light, flickered a few times before extinguishing. The Imperium's destructive attacks focused on their crystal high walls and bizarre geometric structures, destroying every potentially threatening building.
The Monitors lost their last firepower, becoming fish on a chopping block. They lost their outer defenses, lost those small fortresses.
Even the last line of defense was lost. Titus launched an attack from another direction, cutting off any possibility of the enemy escaping. The area where the glassy creatures, shining with a special radiance, could move became smaller and smaller.
Like a hunted herd of deer. The temporal confinement device completely locked down the spatiotemporal structure near the battlefield. The xenos could not escape through their exquisite teleportation techniques.
What remained was the capture of one building after another.
Brutal slaughter erupted in narrow corridors and spaces. The Imperium won the final victory.
Just as it had done in other worlds and battlefields, advancing the Holy Emperor's vision.
When the last Monitor was slain in their grand hall, the Primaris Marines cheered, savoring the sweet victory like fine wine. The cost of victory was heavy; countless Imperial citizens perished here. The spatiotemporal structure near the battlefield had been completely destroyed.
Surging ethereal currents poured out, threatening to corrupt the entire universe.
Repair work not only involved repairing the damaged Imperial warships but also mending the fractured spatiotemporal rifts. This was a lengthy undertaking.
Of course, conquering a universe was never something that could be accomplished in the short term.
Sanguinius, Titus, and other high-ranking officials entered deep into the enemy's fortress after the battle. The warriors had already begun the final cleansing.
Ensuring that all Monitors had been executed or captured. The entire magnificent city, radiating an eerie glow, was firmly under Imperial control. The scene deep within the fortress made Sanguinius, Titus, and other Imperial high-ranking officials tremble with fear.
The Monitors' abilities and technology were extraordinarily advanced. They could observe the fate and truth that constituted the universe. They could also see multiple directions of the time flow, and through mysterious devices, predict the possible future development paths of a parallel universe and intervene.
It was like a farmer sitting in a monitoring room, checking the fields, and through various data feedback from sensors, deciding when to increase light, when to water, when to spray pesticides, and dispatching machines to prune overgrown seedlings. The nature of the Monitors and the farmer was the same. The only difference was that their tools were more advanced. They intervened in the trajectory of parallel universes through means such as fate and truth.
Every race had its own pantheon.
But those pantheons would not obey the Monitors.
So the Monitors created new gods and the Endless Family. Through them, they controlled the direction of parallel universes.
Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium. The Monitors did not need coercive means; they only needed to entice or compel those superheroes to act according to their plans through dreams, death, and other methods.
It was like a series of scripts, where they arranged every seemingly exhilarating, joyful, disappointing, despairing, or tragic grand drama.
Perhaps even the Endless Family and the New Gods did not realize they were being manipulated.
Such predatory methods were extremely clever and covert.
Mortals found it difficult to realize what the Monitors had taken from them.
Many superheroes stubbornly believed they were righteous and free, and that the Imperium of Man was the lie.
But if they understood the workings of this universe well enough, they would realize how pathetic their so-called freedom was.
War was evolving, and so were the methods of predation.
If the Emperor hadn't forced the Four Gods to break the rules and personally intervene, countless citizens of the Imperium would not have realized the plundering and oppression of the Chaos Gods. They never officially appeared, but instead enticed people through their proxies.
Blocking all paths and then hypocritically giving people the power to choose was their specialty.
A businessman releases toxic substances, polluting all the air, and then introduces his high-priced artificial air. This businessman would certainly claim that people have choices, that they are free. They can choose to be poisoned or to buy his artificial air at a high price.
If people resist too fiercely, the businessman introduces another method: he promises the first buyer a 99% discount, and the second buyer a 98% discount. The earlier one buys, the greater the discount, and they can even resell it, earning money from later buyers.
People would then give up resisting the businessman and instead scramble for quotas. Those who can profit early will strongly support the businessman, completely oblivious that if they resisted, everyone could get a 99% discount, or even free air.
Over time, people became accustomed to the businessman's exploitation, even feeling grateful to him, believing that he brought fresh air and allowed them to live.
If someone wanted to revisit the past, to see who polluted the air, and proposed to bring the businessman to justice. Those docile people would all become enraged, accusing him of malicious intent, and wanting to seize him and bring him to the businessman for a reward.
If someone shouted about unfairness, feeling that the businessman was exploiting them, and wanted to rise up in resistance, those people would glare with fury, wishing they could tear the other person apart.
By that time, the businessman's body odor would be considered sweet by those fools. They would sniff desperately, then proudly shout to others, "Ah, what a sweet smell!"
The High God used the same trick, using the Source Wall to establish different parallel universes, like plots of farmland, raising those sentient beings, giving those fools the freedom of no choice. Through one major event after another, they generated enough nutrients to feed themselves. Through various means, they created two factions, good and evil, and let them constantly fight and contend with each other.
Superheroes were powerful enough to change matter, change time, change fate, travel through space-time, and reverse the future. They were omnipotent, yet they could not build a world with cheap energy where everyone could enjoy medical care and education.
Superman could eliminate terrifying daemon gods, punch a sun to explode, but he couldn't eliminate the poor in Metropolis.
Batman could don his battle armor, kill anyone he met, kill gods he met, but he couldn't eliminate the slums of Gotham. This was the truth; the Monitors never had any intention of letting those civilized races develop.
Because they were crops, they were food. The task of food was high yield, not invention and creation, much less enjoying life. Those lives were born for suffering; brief happiness was to make them fall into deeper abysses.
How could a highly developed world, where people had no worries about food, drink, and clothing, produce high-quality emotions like despair and suffering, and how could it fill the hungry monsters?
Sanguinius looked at the crystal devices, which displayed everything from the birth to the destruction of a parallel universe. This was the future advertised by the superheroes.
Freedom controlled by invisible threads.
When a parallel universe was mature enough, the High God would have the Destroyer Corps harvest all life and restart that parallel universe for a new cycle.
"Take all these things away," Sanguinius said to his personal guard. "We need to understand them more to win this campaign. One day, we will drag that damn High God out of its domain and slaughter it like a wild dog."