Khaine, the Bloody Hand, was also a member of the Elven Pantheon.
He was usually associated with murder, violence, destruction, and war.
He was the most violent being among the Elven Gods.
In the Elven Pantheon, his power was second only to Asuryan.
His authority and that of the Chaos God Khorne were essentially indistinguishable. The problem was that Khorne was far more powerful, and Khaine, who only received the faith of one race, was nowhere near his equal.
Numerous studies in the Imperium indicated that the existence of gods was neither mysterious nor special.
Regardless of their form of existence, their ultimate destination was the real universe.
If one insisted on finding a difference between Khorne and Khaine,
it would be like the difference between an interstellar corporation and a humble local protection company in a small country.
Both operated in the same business, yet the disparity between them was enormous.
A god's authority did not represent everything.
A god's power was determined by its followers and its influence, not by the god itself.
Just as the scale of a company depended on its market, not on the boss' whim or its business.
Battles among gods were more like grand feasts of capital.
Powerful companies would mercilessly devour the markets and businesses of smaller ones, even plundering their employees, resources, and connections.
To achieve expansion, powerful companies would use force, schemes, and other means to forcibly disrupt the opponent's commercial activities, then dump their cheap industrial products, completely seize the entire market, and thus enslave the opponent.
Becoming a god was equivalent to obtaining a business license, specifying which fields one could operate in.
Some managed their businesses well, naturally sailing smoothly, living a life of luxury and becoming superior beings. There were also some fools who managed poorly, accumulating a mountain of debt, and could only become slaves to others.
Of course, competition in the Warp was not so gentle and benevolent.
It was more cruel and bloody.
Because the Warp had no rules and no laws to constrain it.
Survival of the fittest, the victor is king, was the Warp's only rule. The most primal hunger and greed were the driving forces for all daemons and gods.
With the reward of one soul, those daemons would stir restlessly.
With the reward of ten souls, those daemons would become active.
With the reward of a hundred souls, those daemons would dare to take risks.
With the reward of a thousand souls, those daemons would dare to trample all rules in the world.
With the reward of ten thousand souls, those daemons would dare to descend into the mortal world, risking utter annihilation.
If hundreds of billions of souls could be obtained, even the Chaos Gods would tear and bite without a shred of dignity. The study of the gods had also been heavily questioned.
It tore open the mysterious veil of the gods, making them seem so despicable, which many found hard to accept.
In their minds, gods should be mysterious, powerful, and devoid of worldly desires. The Imperium's research, however, made these gods appear like mindless merchants driven by profit. The facts showed that gods were indeed that despicable.
Capitalists would sell the rope to hang themselves for profit.
And gods would sell weapons and knowledge that could kill themselves for those interests.
Do the actions of daemons not resemble greedy merchants, who, for profit, describe their fake and shoddy products with exaggerated praise?
Do the actions of the gods not resemble high-ranking officials, disdainful of competing with common folk for petty gains, only targeting large-scale projects and ventures?
All mystery stems from human ignorance.
Lack of understanding about something creates the illusion that it is mysterious and grand.
Once the principles are understood, it feels ordinary.
Khaine was a god who advocated war.
When he was dragged out of his temple, an unimaginable fury erupted.
But his fate was already sealed.
He was swarmed by numerous Aeldari warriors, then granted a destined death by Teclis.
As Khaine's massive body fell, the terrifying phenomena he brought with his appearance vanished.
His body, covered in fiery armor, crashed down, shattering into countless fragments. Tieron felt the voice that had plagued his soul let out a painful wail before disappearing.
A part of his soul also went missing with Khaine's death.
It was all over. The curse that had plagued their family for thousands of years vanished. The Sword of Khaine, placed in the shrine, became dim and lifeless with Khaine's death.
Another god had died.
Malekith, far away on the other side of the world, also felt the same pain as Tieron.
His soul was torn.
The curse he had received from his father Aenarion after pulling out the Sword of Khaine suddenly disappeared.
And it took a part of his soul with it.
Khaine's curse had been rooted in every descendant of Aenarion.
Over a long period, their souls had merged with the curse.
And now, this curse was gone.
A void appeared in their souls as well.
"What happened?!" Malekith used his power to look towards Ulthuan.
It was already being interfered with by a mysterious, terrifying force.
He couldn't see what was happening on Ulthuan.
But the terrifying fluctuations emanating from it made him realize that something was very wrong.
Something major must have happened on Ulthuan!
He had to go and see for himself.
Of course, to be safe, he would bring a powerful army.
No matter what, he would find out what happened on Ulthuan.
If he had the chance, he would also try his best to reclaim all the power and status he had lost. The position of Phoenix King should belong to him, not those damned deceivers. The fleeing Manfred was in a sorry state. The surviving necromancers and vampires gathered around him.
And fled back to Nagashizzar with him. The Imperium's might made them like startled birds.
Each one was terrified and uneasy.
Hearing the whooshing wind, they thought human warships had arrived.
Any sudden sound could scare them out of their wits.
Several vampires were even scared to death.
And some necromancers were so frightened that their soul-fire extinguished, also dying instantly.
It wasn't until they fled back to Nagashizzar that they felt a little relieved.
Nagash, who was wholeheartedly absorbing the divinity of the Great Horned Rat and planning to ascend to godhood, saw the routed soldiers return and was so enraged that he almost directly strangled Manfred.
That magnificent army that could cover the horizon was now reduced to a few scared little cats and dogs.
Nagash was furious, and his terrifying power stirred up a dreadful storm. The Undying King's wrath caused the clouds in the entire sky to churn, and terrifying lightning bolts almost scorched the entire wilderness.
Manfred and the others all knelt before the black pyramid. Trembling in fear.
It wasn't until Nagash had fully vented his anger, and the terrifying storm and thunder disappeared, that Nagash ceased his rage.
"Those damned fools think they can win by defeating you? They think too simply," Nagash roared. "We will let them know the consequences of enraging the Undying King."
Nagash had not been without failures.
His enemies might achieve some victories.
But they would not have the last laugh. The one who would have the last laugh would only be him, Nagash, the Undying King.
Besides his army, he had many other means to defeat his enemies.
Plagues, necromancy, and various special elixirs that could entice others.
Let those Imperials laugh for now; soon they would know Nagash's power. The Imperium's airship fleet pursued the fleeing undead to Nagashizzar. The humans did not rush to attack but surrounded the entire city. The mages established a massive detection array, ensuring that no active object from Nagashizzar could leave the encirclement.
As soon as abnormal activity was detected, the fleet would open fire without hesitation, directly obliterating it.
At the same time, they also began constructing various buildings with restraining runes.
Nagash could clearly feel his connection to the magical elements weakening little by little. This time, the enemy was far more formidable than he had imagined.
But who was Nagash? How could he possibly yield?
He mastered various profound necromantic spells and could command phantoms to work for him.
Before the enemy could launch an attack, he retreated deep into his pyramid, ordering his subordinates to patrol day and night to ensure the safety of Nagashizzar, the city of the undead.
"We're finished this time," Manfred said, looking out at the warships bearing the double-headed eagle, his voice filled with fear and unease. The sight of the Imperium's devastating destruction of all undead had terrified this vampire. The former Manfred was strong and agile.
At a glance, one could tell he was a powerful and fearsome warrior.
But now, Manfred was like a startled bird.
His pale face was gaunt, his eye sockets sunken, and his cheeks hollow. There was no longer any hint of his former glory as a high-ranking vampire; he was like a frail old man suffering from a chronic illness.
"Not necessarily." The lich, whose flesh had been dried out and who wore a loose, dirty wizard's robe, still harbored a final fantasy about Nagash. The Undying King had weathered countless storms.
He had faced numerous powerful enemies, but in the end, he always emerged victorious.
Even when the enemy initially won, Nagash could always turn the tide.
Although the Imperium was powerful, they had no idea how terrifying an enemy Nagash truly was.
Manfred was about to say something more.
A vampire suddenly shrieked.
"They're getting closer."
Manfred looked towards the horizon. The fleet, which had been suspended for days, slowly approached the walls of Nagashizzar.
Perfectly aligned. The vampires and liches felt a sense of dread. The might of the humans made them want to turn and flee. Their innate instincts repeatedly told them that standing on the city walls was the most foolish act.
On the ground, buildings etched with complex runes were propelled by colossal steam machinery.
"Go tell Lord Nagash!" Manfred roared.
No sooner had he spoken than a swirling portal, mixed with black mist and lightning, appeared behind them.
Nagash emerged from it.
With the arrival of the Undying King, a terrifying, chilling wind also swirled through the dark, desecrated buildings.
Manfred sensed the other's pride and confidence from his bloodless face.
Evidently, his recent seclusion had yielded significant gains, and he was now fully confident in facing the current predicament. The undead had already taken up arms, preparing to confront the tyrannical empire.
When Nagash stepped out, some vampires and necromancers seemed to see hope.
"Those fools think they can win, but they will soon realize the might of the Undying King."
Nagash's hoarse voice echoed in the air. The swirling wind of the dead intensified, as if in response to the Undying King's words.
He raised his staff, pointing it at the majestic Imperial airship fleet, exuding the aura of a formidable hero capable of devouring mountains and rivers.
"Feel the wrath of the Undying King!"
Nagash roared. Terrifying divine flames burned around him.
Humans had built many structures around them to suppress magical elements. This made the magical elements in the vicinity of Nagashizzar as viscous as mud.
However, relying on the fragments he had previously seized from the Great Horned Rat's avatar, Nagash unleashed power comparable to a god's.
At this moment, he was truly the God of Death.
"Realm of Absolute Death."
Nagash unleashed his ultimate move, a culmination of all his knowledge, preparing to deliver a Nagash-style shock to those damnable humans. Terrifying magical power poured forth, weaving into countless intricate and profound magical formations. The grotesque and terrifying patterns radiated a dreadful power, striking fear into countless living beings.
Countless ghostly figures emerged, emitting painful, desperate screams.
Horrific forms writhed in endless torment.
Boundless chill spread forth, and the earth was covered in icy frost.
All life was utterly stripped away by that chilling cold. This spell, like the hand of the Ynnead, severed life and death.
Many vampires and necromancers felt their hair stand on end.
Watching Nagash's terrifying display, boundless fear surged from within them.
It made them want to kneel and surrender. This terrifying curse mark, it seemed, could utterly strip away all life.
"This is the power of the Undying King!" Manfred exclaimed excitedly. "This spell condenses divine power and death energy. What can humans use to fight against this?!"
Many vampires and necromancers also showed excitement. The Undying King was indeed the Undying King; reversing the situation happened in an instant.
"Hee hee hee!!"
Nagash let out a chilling laugh. The light emanating from the scepter in his hand grew even more terrifying.
His entire being was enveloped in black mist and dark light, like a moving black sun appearing in this world. Terrifying frost and death energy flowed like a bursting dam, surging towards the Imperial airship fleet.
A jaw-dropping scene unfolded. The ships and airships emitted a faint glow. The surging death energy and cold light vanished without a trace, as if they had flowed into a black hole.
As the human airships advanced, the terrifying death energy and frost rapidly disappeared, like melting spring snow.
A look of panic appeared on Manfred's excited face.
Such a terrifying attack had been resolved by the enemy so easily.
Nagash unleashed even stronger magical power, but the outcome remained unchanged.
It was as if there was a bottomless pit that absorbed all the magical power.
Not a single ripple was created.
"No!!" Nagash cried out in despair, "This is impossible."
No one told Nagash what was happening!
His painstakingly prepared trump card had been broken by the enemy just like that.
Everything he had done became a joke. The enemy just kept advancing.
His super invincible grand forbidden spell was gone, without having any effect.
Even if he became a god, he was merely an ant to be toyed with by the enemy. The disparity between them filled Nagash with despair. The humans approached Nagashizzar, using artillery to eliminate the outer undead, then pushed forward step by step. The despairing Manfred and others fought to the very end.
But they still fell one by one, captured by humans or beheaded.
Nagash planned to self-destruct, but before he could succeed, he was interrupted by the already prepared five-person team.
He fought the five-person team to the very end.
He was enveloped by a strange light and plunged into absolute darkness.
Completely unaware that he had been placed in a stasis field.
By the time the last building of the magnificent city of Nagashizzar was destroyed and the Imperial two-headed eagle banner was planted on the ruins.
Everything had settled.
Arthas never appeared from beginning to end.
He merely commanded from orbit and won the war.
He never used any spectacular tactics from start to finish.
He considered the actions the enemy might take and systematically blocked them, proceeding steadily.
He even considered that the enemy might commit suicide in despair.
He selected the five-person team as an assault squad to interrupt the enemy's suicide and capture the Undying King alive.
Such a battle was merely practice for Arthas.
No elite Natal regiments were deployed, no orbital defense, no knights leading the charge, no Titans crushing, and no Primaris Marines as the final trump card.
He just mobilized some local soldiers.
If Nagash knew that he had lost to a novice commander who was just practicing, he would probably spit out a few pounds of fresh blood from his skeleton. The mission to capture Nagash alive was over.
Arthas opened a new holographic image.
It displayed the territories that had not yet submitted to humanity and the chaotic wastes of the poles.
A faint smile appeared on his lips. The vast universe, all are the Holy Emperor's domain. Though the heavens are wide, they must submit to the will of the Holy Emperor. Those who dare defy the Imperium, let me—Arthas—bestow destruction upon them. The Nine Provinces fell, and the Imperium's two-headed eagle banner was hoisted. The Amon-Ra clan suffered a devastating blow, and the Nine Provinces were rid of them.
Even the local ecology suitable for the Amon-Ra clan was completely destroyed.
All of this was thanks to Regula, who specially researched a biological virus for the Amon-Ra clan.
It would not only kill the Amon-Ra clan but also destroy their ecological environment.
After all, the biological evolution mechanism itself could potentially produce antibodies to the biological virus.
If even the environment was destroyed, even if they could resist the virus, they would die due to their inability to adapt to the drastic environmental changes.
However, the Amon-Ra clan had not been completely eradicated yet. This clan was still active in other worlds.
Regula had set his sights on a new experimental world.
He intended to test the magic-ending device and viruses on this new world, and also attempt to analyze some important things.
He also wanted to analyze some ethereal concepts that existed in this universe, such as luck and fate. These fields were already being researched in the Imperium.
But Regula wanted to integrate these things into his magic-ending device. To make it impossible for enemies to use the warp, and to manipulate their luck and destiny, leading them to self-destruction and death. This renowned Mechanical Magos, like a voyeur, observed the development of the entire world.
He had already found a suitable test subject. This Amon-Ra would rise and become the protagonist of the story he wove.