Little Fulgrim's voice echoed through the cold, empty, and desecrated hall.
His eyes reflected a furious rage.
His heart burned like an eternal, inextinguishable volcano for the existence of these traitors.
He vowed to eradicate all rebellion from this world.
Making this his journey of atonement.
Eidolon rose from the throne made of bones and blasphemous objects.
Little Fulgrim could clearly see the corrupt features on the traitor's body.
Swollen tentacles and fangs grew from Eidolon's face. The body, once forged by the Emperor's great wisdom, was now unrecognizable, riddled with marks of desecration.
His swollen body pressed against the purple armor.
Beneath the armor, adorned with human skin and skulls, dark things constantly squirmed.
All sorts of precious decorations hung from it.
Giving off a sense of luxurious disgust.
As if decorating a foul cesspit with rare gems and onyx.
"Do you really think Guilliman can give you salvation? He is no different from his father, just a hypocritical liar," Eidolon said. "Although you are not my genefather, you flow with the same blood as him, possessing the same genetic sequence. Do you not have any mercy for us, any recognition? Are you willing to fight for that despicable liar, to slaughter us with your blade?"
"Open your eyes, and listen to the echoes in the warp. All the unliving are howling about the birth of the Fifth God. The Emperor has left, but Guilliman has inherited the ambition of that rotting corpse, becoming a true master of death."
"Join the embrace of the Lord of Pleasure, in endless debauchery until the end of time. Guilliman is just a liar unworthy of loyalty, a cowardly wretch. He will surely die in the battle against the gods, and his head will become the Blood God's chalice for drinking blood."
"Traitor, cease your foul words!" Little Fulgrim's roaring voice was like a cannon, cutting off Eidolon's speech. "You won't even have the mercy of death. You deserve only torment, to be forever scorned and reviled by the world. Eidolon, you are nothing but a contemptible traitor, a coward who succumbed to the horrors."
Eidolon still wanted to say something.
But Little Fulgrim no longer wanted to waste any time.
He charged forward, his longsword shattering the debauched mortals and twisted corpses into fragments. Transforming his blazing fury into an unparalleled assault on the enemy.
A dreadful path of blood appeared in the wake of his brutal onslaught.
He slaughtered in the name of the Emperor, Guilliman, in exchange for the salvation of his bloodline.
"A pathetic replica, you lack the nobility of my father!" A huge, obese Slaaneshi champion with a massive maw let out a deafening shriek. "Die, replica!"
Little Fulgrim offered no rebuttal.
He merely leaped up, splitting the hastily raised weapon of his opponent with a powerful, heavy sword stroke.
As the opponent's eyes widened in terror, he directly severed their head.
Zahariel also charged out at this moment.
His bolter continuously fired.
Providing some support for Little Fulgrim.
Bolter rounds struck the debauched mortals, tearing their naked bodies to shreds.
A charging Emperor's Children Marine was hit by two bolter rounds, directly blowing off half of his head.
Kassar also charged forward, rushing towards the enemy amidst the shouts of his battle brothers. The high-speed spinning chainsword emitted a grating sound.
He chopped with all his might at a flayed monster wearing spiked armor. Those who pledged themselves to the God of Pleasure often engaged in twisted and perverted acts.
Clearly, this was someone who had flayed their own skin in pursuit of pleasure.
Kassar was disgusted by such things. To be honest, he disliked such behavior.
Every time he saw these Emperor's Children committing various horrific acts for pleasure, an unspeakable revulsion would rise within him. The high-speed spinning chain saw cut through the enemy's armor.
A series of sparks erupted as the chain saw gnawed at the ceramite, landing on the blasphemous objects and setting them ablaze.
Kassar split it in two, and disgusting, mutated organs spilled from the gaping wound. The corrupted mortals screamed and died in the battle of the superhuman warriors.
Some of them had grown up in corrupted worlds, born with the mark of the Dark Gods. The souls of these wretches already belonged to the Dark Gods.
When they died, they would be carried off to the dark realms, enslaved in that unimaginable dark abyss until the end of time.
Others were Imperial civilians who had been abducted and forced to offer their souls to these damned traitors in order to live a little longer. They were not deserving of sympathy either.
Regardless of the reason, betrayal was an unforgivable act.
One's own weakness could also poison the entire race.
Little Fulgrim charged savagely like a terrifying beast. Turning traitors and blasphemous objects into broken corpses and scattered flesh.
Nothing could stop him. The charging Emperor's Children warriors and mutated slaves were all slain by him.
Eidolon picked up his sword, facing the clone of his genefather.
His eyes showed hatred and an urge to take Little Fulgrim's head to please the Dark Gods.
He opened his mouth and let out a roar. The terrifying sound even formed visible sound waves, shaking everything around it, and the powerful force contained within them distorted the air. The deadly sound waves surged through the human bodies, instantly disintegrating them into molecular structures, exploding into clouds of blood mist.
A glowing shield projected from Little Fulgrim's armor. The shield kept the deadly sound waves at bay.
No matter how Eidolon screamed, it was useless.
Little Fulgrim charged forward like a mad beast, pushing through the sound waves.
He slammed a lightning-fast punch into Eidolon's head. The immense force sent his head snapping backward. The spiked helmet was dented.
Crimson blood mixed with broken, sharp fangs flew from his mouth.
Several traitors, blessed by the Dark Gods, rushed forward, intending to support their commander.
Little Fulgrim was fearless.
Even if he was just a clone, he was not someone these corrupted Emperor's Children could contend with.
He elbowed a charging traitor, striking directly at their faceplate. The ceramite faceplate was shattered by Little Fulgrim's blow, and broken fragments pierced into the traitor's face. The traitor himself was sent flying.
At this moment, another individual rushed forward, extending an arm.
Little Fulgrim noticed that the guy's hand had mutated into a bird-like talon forged from crude iron.
Another manifestation of the Dark Gods' blessing. This was the horror of Chaos. Twisting familiar things and imbuing them with unimaginable savage violence, destroying all that is beautiful in this world.
Little Fulgrim dodged the blow, then grabbed the opponent's wrist and twisted it sharply. As the opponent screamed, he pulled their massive body forward. The longsword, shimmering with electric arcs, plunged directly into the opponent's throat. The sharp blade emerged from the back of the skull.
Bringing with it a foul-smelling blood.
After dispatching the enemy, Little Fulgrim instinctively ducked, dodging a cleaving blow from a massive axe.
A Slaaneshi champion let out an enraged roar and swung a fist as large as an ammunition crate at him again. The heavy force caused a sonic boom in the air.
Little Fulgrim dodged it, and the opponent's fist punched a large hole directly through the wall.
Steel and concrete collapsed in sheets. This Slaaneshi champion's body was bloated, and his corrupted ceramite armor couldn't fully contain him.
Even his calves were as massive as a regular space marine's chest plate. The tumor-like growths of flesh were almost engulfing the armor.
Every step he took rumbled loudly. The Slaaneshi champion possessed terrifying, unstoppable power.
A single punch could shatter steel and marble.
After dodging the opponent's punch, Little Fulgrim delivered an upward strike that severed the opponent's thick arm. The opponent's cry of pain, along with the horrifying fist of steel and flesh, clattered to the ground.
Little Fulgrim seized the opportunity to stab his sword into the opponent's chest. Twisting the blade, he tore through the traitor's body. Then he sliced upward through the blasphemous flesh. The longsword's power field and Little Fulgrim's brutality quickly tore the Slaaneshi champion's upper body and head in half. The ceramite at the cuts glowed red from the heat.
Eidolon charged again, only to be punched back, stumbling.
His helmet was completely shattered, revealing his disgusting face.
Little Fulgrim grabbed Eidolon's cloak, pulled him back again, then leaped up and delivered a knee strike to his chin.
A crisp sound of bone cracking echoed.
Eidolon screamed and stumbled back a few steps, then collapsed to his knees in pain.
His broken head hung limply. The last charging traitor raised a thunder hammer, already imbued with a disintigration field capable of tearing through armor.
Little Fulgrim, without turning his head, thrust his longsword backward, piercing directly through the opponent's throat. The thunder hammer in the opponent's hand had just been raised, crackling with arcs of electricity, before it extinguished and fell to the ground. The heavy, massive body also collapsed as Little Fulgrim withdrew his sword.
Zahariel and Kassar, among others, had also cleared all enemies from the hall. They walked over to Little Fulgrim, looking at Eidolon, who was kneeling on the ground, powerless to resist.
"Should we kill him?" Zahariel raised his power sword, its crackling disintegration field covering the blade, and the surrounding air turned into imperceptible steam amidst tiny flashes.
Little Fulgrim shook his head.
"Giving these damned traitors death would be too merciful. Hand them over to the Imperium. When we next exchange supplies, send him out. Those people will find a suitable reason to bring him back to Terra."
This was the sorrow of the Redeemers.
All the victories and honors they achieved could not be revealed to the public. Their past mistakes forced them to swallow this bitter fruit.
No honor, no cheers, no flowers, only duty.
"Blow this place up, utterly destroy all traces of corruption," Little Fulgrim turned and walked towards the hall's entrance. "Then we can move on to the next battlefield."
Zahariel and the others stayed behind, executing the traitors and taking away any usable supplies. The Imperium would provide them with supplies and equipment through clandestine channels.
But that didn't mean they lacked nothing.
Manpower, tech-priests, and so on—they had none. Those who served Eidolon out of fear of death would also serve them out of fear of death.
Whether they were loyal or not didn't matter.
As long as they could be made to serve, that was enough.
War raged in every corner of the Eye of Terror. The struggle between the Fifth God and the Four Gods was intensifying daily. Those once exalted daemons were reduced to refugees.
Wherever the Imperial Aquila banner reached, there was only slaughter and destruction. The Lion became the claw of his brother, wantonly unleashing all manner of horrors upon the worlds protected by the Four Gods.
Massacres erupted on every daemon world.
Reality was reasserting its order, replacing the chaos of the warp. The screams of daemons echoed through the eerie void, filled with despair and agony. The Eye of Terror was no longer safe; the Imperium's brutality had begun to manifest in this harmonious land. The Great Purge would be carried out by the Lion, who would never spare any traitor or daemon.
Blood for blood was the Lion's motto.
Galim was a forge world belonging to the Dark Mechanicum.
It was once a maiden world, but after the Great Anomaly, it was transformed into a crone world, becoming a terrifying paradise for daemons and the twisted, transformed eldar remnants.
Later, the Black Legion rose, and Abaddon established his order in the Eye of Terror, building numerous factories to support the Long War.
Lucas Krehl was responsible for overseeing the factories here and was the master of Galim, this daemonic industrial planet.
His duty was to provide the Black Legion with sufficient weaponry and daemon Engines.
During the Thirteenth Black Crusade, the factories here operated day and night, supplying a vast amount of armor and daemon Engines to the Black Legion. The fall of Cadia excited Lucas Krehl for a long time. The expansion of the Eye of Terror represented the rapid expansion of the Dark Gods' sphere of influence. They were winning the Long War. The Corpse Emperor would ultimately fail.
Lucas Krehl's excitement didn't last long; with Guilliman's awakening, the forces of Chaos suffered a series of disastrous defeats.
By now, countless daemons and followers of the gods believed that Abaddon's capture of Cadia was a very foolish act.
If Cadia hadn't fallen, Guilliman wouldn't have awakened.
If Guilliman hadn't awakened, the Emperor would have had to endure alone. The forces of Chaos would forever maintain their advantage and initiative.
Cadia fell, Guilliman awakened, and other Primarchs returned as well.
At the cost of himself, the Emperor severely wounded the Four Gods, buying precious time for Guilliman's development.
Abaddon was captured, and the avatars of other gods were either seized or hacked into pieces.
Now, even the Eye of Terror was on the verge of falling.
Guilliman, this tyrant, was going to rule every star, every atom.
Atop the central spire of the forge factory, a grimy red robe draped over Lucas Krehl's bloated body, riddled with cable interfaces and steel implants. There was no longer any flesh or blood tissue on his body.
Even his brain had been replaced by complex logical processing units.
At this moment, he no longer looked like a living being.
He looked more like a grotesque machine.
Mechanical tentacles slid out from his robe.
Four pairs of piston-driven mechanical limbs propelled Lucas Krehl's bloated body with an erratic gait, creaking as if they would pierce the steel plates beneath his feet.
Mechanical bionic eyes rotated with the turning of his head, emitting a faint hum. Through these bionic eyes, he took in everything within the horizon.
At a glance, there were endless roaring factories. They spewed vast amounts of toxic smoke into the twisted, brightly glowing atmosphere.
Large numbers of daemon Engines and various weapons and equipment were being produced in haste and sent to designated areas.
Dark Mechanicus Priests and warbands who had fled here were fortifying every area. These individuals intended to turn Galim into a colossal fortress.
A trap fortress that would bleed the Imperium dry.
Lucas Krehl's identity could be traced back to the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy.
He was once the Director of Manufacturing at the most powerful forge temple on Mars, Mendes III.
Mendes III belonged to the former Martian General, Kelbor-Hal, who single-handedly founded the Dark Mechanicum.
Like Kelbor-Hal, he swore allegiance to Horus, jointly launching a series of wars against the loyalists on Mars. This forced the loyalists to flee Mars.
When Horus arrived in the Sol System, he also participated in the Siege of Terra.
After the Horus Heresy, he fled into the Eye of Terror, establishing his own dark power. That fool Kelbor-Hal had already been captured by the Imperium while attempting to free the Void Dragon and sent to the Prison World of Pharos to suffer.
Lucas Krehl, however, remained active in the Eye of Terror due to his caution and cowardice.
Of course, this activity wouldn't last much longer. The Lion was waging war on the Eye of Terror, attempting to heal this cancerous growth in the real universe.
Destruction was counting down, and once the countdown ended, Lucas Krehl would face his judgment.
It's worth mentioning that Lucas Krehl had also created many powerful intelligent killing machines.
Among his most famous creations were the Kaban-model war robots.
Kaban robots possessed forbidden AI technology, equipped with various extinction-level weapons, cold and cruel. They caused massive slaughter during the Martian Civil War. This robot also pursued Dalia, the guardian of the Void Dragon's seal.
At that time, Dalia had not yet gained the guardian's power.
She helped Lady Korell Zeta, the loyalist mistress of Magma City, complete the Akashic Reader. This reader could transcribe various lost knowledge from the Warp.
Lady Korell Zeta intended to use it to restore humanity's glory and elevate human civilization to a new realm.
However, she was jointly sabotaged by traitors like Lucas Krehl, and under the assault of several Titan Legions, the Akashic Reader was destroyed.
Lady Korell Zeta, in despairing tears, destroyed all her masterpieces to prevent them from falling into the hands of traitors. This loyalist died after setting the city to self-destruct.
Lucas Krehl knew what unforgivable crimes he had committed. The slaughter of loyalists, the enslavement of Mars, the destruction of Terra, the betrayal of humanity – all destined him to receive the purest vengeance. The probability of Lion El'Jonson sparing him was infinitesimally close to zero.
He gazed at the daemon forge factories spewing thick black smoke. Towering manufacturing plants, refineries, slave Living Area, mechanical workshops, and grand assembly hangars covered every inch of land as far as the eye could see, shrouding the entire world in steel.
Countless slave-workers were bound to their production stations, working day and night without rest. They moved the steel blessed by the gods, building, repairing, and assembling various automated robots and war vehicles.
Monks and priests, their bodies and faces etched with blasphemous runes, dedicated themselves to the assembly and maintenance of complex circuits, the fusion of steel and daemons, or the installation and debugging of various twisted mythological machines.
Various components emblazoned with the Eight-pointed Star of Chaos lay scattered along the walls, assembly tables, and other places.
Lucas Krehl had thrown all his resources into the factories, hoping to acquire enough war machines to resist the brutal destruction that the Imperium might bring.
No matter what, he would not easily surrender.
"The number of fleeing daemons is increasing, and the flames of war ignited by the Imperium are advancing towards us; they will soon reach here," Lucas Krehl muttered to himself. "Our situation is becoming more and more critical."
He stood by the window of the high tower, watching as daemon Engines, steaming and equipped with various terrifying weapons, emerged from the smoke-belching factories. They gathered together and advanced towards their pre-assigned defensive positions. These daemonic vehicles were all terrifying creations forged from steel, utilizing the technology and power of the Warp. They possessed terrifying lethality.
"The Fifth God's pawns are unstoppable; only the Four Great Chaos Powers can contend with them. We are but dust in the gears of time, powerless to change anything."
A hoarse, ethereal voice came from the dark shadows.
As the eerie shadow spoke, it writhed with the changing light, as if it were alive.
After entering the Eye of Terror, Lucas Krehl had allied with a daemon. They shared the world of Galim. This daemon provided him with shelter, and in return, he sacrificed the captives he acquired to it.
In the Eye of Terror, equivalent exchange also existed.
Whether serving the Emperor or worshipping the Four Gods, you had to pay for goods.
If you had no money, you had to exchange it for something of equal value. The Eye of Terror had no unified currency.
Warbands usually exchanged slaves or captives.
Some would be used as factory labor and test subjects, while others would be sacrificed to this daemon.
Of course, some individuals would shout, "I joined Chaos precisely to avoid paying for things, and now I still have to pay? Isn't joining Chaos pointless then?"
The fate of those unfortunate souls, naturally, needs no further explanation.
Lucas Krehl was not to be trifled with either.
No exchange, no weapons or equipment produced by him.
"We can't defeat the Lion, but they shouldn't think they can just take everything from me so easily, I will—"
Lucas Krehl's words were cut short.
A cacophony of alarms, like a flood, erupted, drowning out his voice. The dark tower, marred by corruption, was bathed in blood-red light.
Pop-up image screens showed countless warships bearing the Imperial Aquila emblem appearing within Galim's detection range. The Dark Mechanicum's cogitators, integrated with daemons, became disorder due to the immense data volume, displaying error codes.
Connected gargoyles shrieked and fell into paralysis.
Alarms echoed throughout the industrial zone, which was as vast as mountains. They broadcast through crackling loudspeakers to the lower levels of the Chaos Nidus. Those lowly slaves, their bodies and faces etched with the eight-pointed star of Chaos, looked up blankly.
All the grotesque, nightmarish entities and high-ranking Dark Priests, born from the most terrible nightmares and twisted thoughts, involuntarily trembled.
Some of the nightmare entities and high-ranking Dark Priests who could look up at the sky all showed expressions of fear. This would be an era of reckoning. This would be an era of destruction.
Gods vied, leaving only fire and ash.
Fear appeared on Lucas Krehl's face.
A grand holy hymn echoed in the void, and through some strange space, it reached every corner of the world of Galim. The prayers praising the gods were suppressed.
Whispers were replaced by the sacred Imperial hymn, filled with divine aura.
"In the vast and boundless universe,
The Emperor's light protects us.
We are the holy warriors,
We come for purification.
Let the banners fly in the wind,
Let us ignite the flames,
For holiness,
For purification,
In the vast and boundless universe,
The Emperor's light protects us,
We are destruction,
We are faith,
We fight for all humanity,
For the Lord of Mankind,
That wisdom; that light."
The resounding holy hymn poisoned every inch of space in the Eye of Terror.
It caused those malicious entities with physical forms to cry out in pain. The colossal lighthouses installed on the Ecclesiarchy's holy prayer ships erupted with incredibly intense light, combating the malice of the Eye of Terror and correcting spacetime back to its original state. Tens of thousands of fanatical devotees were linked together, singing tirelessly. They used their pious hearts to guide the light of the Holy Emperor. The iron-clad warriors were ready to bestow destruction upon their enemies.
Only slaughter, only death, no forgiveness, no mercy. They were so fanatical, so excited, eager to destroy their enemies and send terrible death upon every foe who dared to resist the Imperium.
Countless daemons wept, countless traitors trembled. They feared the coming war. They feared being utterly destroyed by the terrifying pawns of that nascent god. This was a war between gods.
"For the Holy Emperor."
"For the Holy Emperor."
"Kill them, kill them."
"Victory, victory."
Similar sounds continuously rang out, echoing terrifyingly in the Warp. The void orbital defenses held for thirty minutes, then fell silent, turning into fragments. The ships were utterly destroyed.
Not a single one escaped. The Imperium interpreted death and destruction to the fullest.
As the outer shell was peeled away, towering beams of light descended from the clouds, connecting the Imperial warships to the surface.
First to emerge from the light pillars were the Gods of War, colossal Titans, seventy to eighty meters, even over a hundred meters tall, moving with heavy, deliberate strides. Their massive Titan weapons unleashed destructive beams of light, obliterating swathes of dark, blasphemous architecture.
These behemoths were the pinnacle of human destructive art, existing solely for slaughter. Their design concept embodied all of humanity's imagination and talent for the act of destruction. The Imperial Aquila emblem shone brightly in the glow of the artillery fire. Thunderous roars expressed their overwhelming killing intent.
Loudspeakers ceaselessly repeated their war cries. These engines of war advanced through the blasphemous city, heedlessly destroying vast industrial facilities and roaring factory furnaces.
Lucas Karon had not designed the city with paths for Titans to traverse.
But the Imperium didn't care; giant cannons could easily blast a path, or their massive bodies could simply crush one. The Titan Legions were utterly indifferent to all life on this daemon forge world. They only cared if this world would be purged. Thousands of slaves and daemons scattered before the advancing Titans, like ants facing a charging herd of bulls.
daemons shrieked as they were crushed, their essences hurled into the Warp, awaiting a long time before they could resurrect. Those daemons daring to enter a Titan's interior met utter destruction; the burning fires of faith incinerated their essence and bodies to ash.
Smaller Knight suits and primaris space marines in their power armor let out various roars. They slew in the name of the Holy Emperor, their terrifying war cries echoing through the blasphemous structures.
daemons and traitors, upon seeing those bearing the Aquila emblem, felt the exact same way human civilians once felt upon seeing them.
Fear and despair made them almost unable to breathe.
Of course, most daemons don't need to breathe.
Fuel pipelines were crushed by the advancing Titans, triggering explosions and spewing flames.
Billowing black smoke etched dark streaks across the sky.
Artillery fire from the fortresses and factory defenses exploded against the Titans' void shields, creating a series of ripples.
But it was meaningless. The defensive fire couldn't penetrate the Titans' defenses at all.
At most, it caused some casualties among the ground forces accompanying the Titans.
However, those casualties were negligible compared to the achievements of the Titans. This action failed to achieve the desired result; instead, it caused the fortresses and fortifications to be targeted by the Titan pilots. They unleashed barrages of missiles, targeting the fortresses and fortifications that dared to attack them.
Several magnificent, hundred-meter-tall fortresses were destroyed, vanishing into ever-expanding mushroom clouds. Terrifying artillery fire rained down on the defenders, tearing everything apart.
Some daemon engines stumbled towards the battlefield, only to vanish under barrages of dazzling, searing energy. They erupted in showers of sparks, screaming in destruction. The Imperial Titans roared victoriously through their loudspeakers, charging into the city to unleash slaughter.
High-temperature melta beams pierced through everything, sweeping across the ground, leaving behind trails of vaporized steel. The chaotic masses of traitors and daemons were utterly annihilated, destroyed by the ravages of stellar power. They slaughtered wantonly like predatory raptors, their muzzle flashes flickering incessantly, their horns screaming in the ecstasy of slaughter.
Lucas Karon witnessed the destruction of his city.
A city on the brink of collapse, with its outer hive cities and factories already reduced to ruins.
Everything he had painstakingly built over ten thousand years was mercilessly destroyed by the Imperium. The painstakingly established defenses were useless. They were completely destroyed by the Imperium within a few minutes.
A communication signal connected to Lucas Karon's channel.
Upon opening it, the face of the Lion, Lion El'Jonson, appeared on the screen.
He spoke only one sentence.
"Blood for blood, traitors."
Before Lucas Karon could say anything, the other party had already cut off all signals.
"He is unimaginably arrogant." The daemon who had made a pact with Lucas Karon emerged from the shadows.
It was the Blood Lord, Anarok, an infernal apostle, a hateful entity born in the distant past.
An evil being that had once instilled fear in countless civilizations and burned countless worlds.
Its body was incredibly strong, seven to eight meters tall, exuding an immense oppressive presence.
Its lower body was bent backward like a goat's hooves.
It was bound by massive chains etched with blasphemous runes and wielded a two-handed battle-axe.
Its twin horns burned with raging black flames.
"They want to take this world easily. I will show them what Anarok's wrath means."
Anarok and Lucas Karon had formed an alliance.
Protecting this world was also protecting its interests.
Without stable sacrifices and offerings, it was very likely to collapse, dissipate, and become sustenance for other daemons.
Anarok strode out with boundless rage. The entire world would tremble under his wrath.
Both the Lion and Guilliman would witness Anarok's fury.
A brilliant pillar of light illuminated the clouds, pierced the already crumbling shield, and struck the tower where Lucas Karon was located.
A massive explosion tore half of the tower apart.
Molten ferrocrete and metal poured down from the tower like a tide.
A mushroom-shaped flame ignited, then dissipated.
Large sections of the building collapsed, and the ground where it was hit glowed intensely. The surviving daemons and slaves shrieked even more.
Rows of zealous cultists fell, their half-mechanical, half-metallic bodies twitching incessantly.
Lucas Karon lay prone on the ground, his body damaged in various ways, but it didn't hinder his normal movement.
A smoking giant horn landed not far from him.
If he wasn't mistaken, it was Anarok's horn, the very daemon who had just declared he would show the Lion and Guilliman a thing or two.
Lucas Karon looked at the spot where the daemon had walked out; it had become a steaming ruin.
Everything had been vaporized into its most basic atoms by that beam of light. That daemon was just wiped out.
It hadn't even shown the Imperium its terror before it met its end, cast back into the Warp to await resurrection.
Of course, if it didn't receive enough sustenance, this resurrection time could be unimaginably long.
In low orbit above the Daemon Forge World of Galim.
A battleship floated there.
"High-energy signature target cleared."
"Augur feedback: target signature not detected again. Target completely destroyed."
The broadcast caused the ship's operations crew to cheer.
"That guy was definitely a greater daemon, otherwise how could there be such a high reading?" a man in a Rear Admiral's uniform exclaimed excitedly. "Our names will definitely be written in the Navy's textbooks. Executing a greater daemon with a single strike from thousands of miles away—who else can do that?"
"Victory! Long live Captain Auxerre!"
"Captain Auxerre dares to claim second in the Imperium, no one dares to claim first!"
"Captain Auxerre is awesome!"
Seated on his throne, Auxerre could barely contain his excitement.
He was very young, only in his thirties, yet he commanded a battleship. This spoke volumes about his exceptional talent.
If it could be confirmed that he had just slain a daemon, he had a strong chance of becoming the Captain of a stellar-class battleship before he turned sixty.
In that case, he would become a prominent figure capable of commanding an entire fleet.
"All glory belongs to the Holy Emperor," Auxerre said modestly.
His words elicited even louder cheers from the bridge crew.
On the stellar-class battleship, the *Truth Unvanquished*.
Lion surveyed the battlefield.
Continuous explosions mingled with the dying screams of daemons and traitors. There was nothing new to it.
Victory was already assured.
Another battle that didn't need to be described in detail. The Imperium's anti-Warp devices would be established on this planet to repair it. The Eye of Terror's range was being further reduced.
With a little more time, he could heal this cancer of the real universe. That would be a phased victory in the war against the Gods.
Completely eradicating the Gods' greatest source of interference in the real universe. Their domains and avatars established in this universe would also fall to their weakest state ever.
At that point, it would be time to launch a grand counter-offensive.
Imperial forces would directly assault the domains of the Four Gods.
Returning all the suffering they had inflicted on humanity, in full.
An eye for an eye, blood for blood.
******
Cathay Empire.
Wei Jing.
"Are you so eager to depart?"
Miao Ying, dressed in court attire, stood on the palace balcony, gazing at the bustling nightscape of Wei Jing.
Valerius stood beside her, and it was clear this question was directed at him.
Miao Ying's figure was as alluring as ever.
Her loose court robes were made of the finest silk, crafted by Cathay's most skilled artisans.
Miao Ying wore them without any hint of encumbrance, instead accentuating a nobility distinct from her usual heroic bearing.
As the Dragon Emperor's daughter, she was born a radiant, destined pearl, meant to capture everyone's gaze.
"I have completed the most important mission of this journey. The remaining matters will be communicated between the Imperial envoys and yourselves.
If you are fortunate, you might have the opportunity to travel to Terra and personally discuss the future of this realm with the Holy Emperor." Valerius stood beside Miao Ying; he was not clad in golden armor.
Attending the Dragon Emperor's banquet in armor would be highly impolite, so he was dressed in civilian clothes. The Dragon Emperor, from another world destroyed by Chaos, wielded great power.
He understood the threat of Chaos and therefore did not make any difficulties for Valerius, the envoy of the Imperium, who could become an ally.
He took out the mysterious object from beyond the heavens from the temple. That mysterious object was incredibly powerful, possessing a terrifying restraint against daemons.
A thousand years ago, when his divine soul was roaming the outer heavens, it suddenly appeared, destroying all the chaotic evil entities in its path.
The Dragon Emperor managed to intercept that mysterious object and placed it in the temple for nurturing, preparing it as a trump card against Chaos.
Now that Valerius had come seeking it, he certainly had no intention of forcibly keeping this fragment.
Moreover, after hearing the Emperor's story, the Dragon Emperor was greatly moved. To achieve such a degree for one's own people and race.
Across all realms, it would be hard to find another such individual.
"Then I wish you a smooth journey, Valerius," Miao Ying said. "The Emperor's fragment possesses immense power; it can not only slay chaotic evil entities but also bestow various powers upon people. It will inevitably attract the covetousness of greedy individuals and the obstruction of chaotic evil entities. Your journey is destined to be extremely perilous."
"Nothing can stop me," Valerius stated firmly. "No matter the cost, I will find all the fragments and summon my master back."