The glow of plasma seemed to boil the entire world, and the iron-ringed robot was bathed in its overflowing light and heat. Its shell showed faint signs of melting, but it made the Void Dragon sealed within feel as if it had briefly returned to the sea of energy that birthed it.
The Void Dragon yearned for that moment, for the time when its being merged with the universe, when the boundary lines were indistinct. It longed to be immersed again in the warm energy tides, just as a child yearns to return to the warm amniotic fluid.
The current reality was too cold, actually unsuitable for a C'tan's survival, which was why the Void Dragon yearned to use the Blackstone to control the near-infinite energy of the Warp, using that energy to re-boil reality and return everything to the warmth of creation's dawn.
His plan had not truly begun to be executed when the Necron betrayed him, shattering him, leaving only his consciousness hidden in a fragment, fleeing in a panic.
Then, before he could even attempt that plan again, he encountered a primitive warrior riding a horse and wielding a silver spear on a remote planet, was impaled by a single spear thrust, sent flying to Mars, and sealed there to this day.
Now, he would not make the same mistake again. From the very first move, it was the full power that this fragment could contain.
Hmm?
The Void Dragon suddenly noticed something different. Why was the surrounding temperature still rising? Why was the plasma glow shooting towards the ground getting brighter and brighter?
Why did it seem like... it had bounced back and was shooting towards him?
The Void Dragon stared blankly at the ground. Amidst the scorching plasma tide, Lion El'Jonson pulled out a small, red cape from beneath his cloak.
That cape was nothing special; it was just an ordinary, thin silk fabric, not even tainted by a hint of Warp energy.
From the Void Dragon's perspective, it was just a common piece of cloth.
Everything in the material universe could not escape the Void Dragon's control, and the power of the Warp was suppressed by the surrounding Blackstone.
Logically, such a piece of cloth should not have any special properties.
But Lion El'Jonson waved the cloth gently like a bullfighter, lightly striking the plasma tide that was falling towards him.
Bang!!!!
The crimson cape collided with the plasma tide, sparking off searing electrical discharges.
The cape, in the face of high-temperature plasma capable of melting ceramite, adamantium, and even auramite, was astonishingly unharmed.
In the Void Dragon's bewildered gaze, the pale plasma was lightly deflected by the cape, changing direction and shooting back towards the Void Dragon.
"*C'tan profanity*" the Void Dragon couldn't help but curse aloud.
The iron-ringed robot forged by Perturabo was submerged in the bright plasma torrent, melting in the high temperature in the blink of an eye, and was completely torn into imperceptible fragments by the continuous bombardment of particles.
In an instant, a silver figure emerged from the dissolved iron-ringed robot.
The General's Cannon destroyed the iron-ringed robot, and also directly unsealed the shackles Perturabo had placed on the Void Dragon.
A slender, robust, elegant, and perfect body, like one untouched by the Warp, emerged from the plasma tide. Its body, forged like uncooled molten silver, shimmered with a jade-green luster, and arcs of electricity continuously spewed from the hideous cracks running throughout it.
The Void Dragon suddenly spread the sharp Blackstone wings behind him, bathing in the high-temperature plasma.
These extremely high-temperature energies not only did not harm him but made him extremely comfortable. He was born in the high temperatures at the beginning of the universe.
However, the Void Dragon did not indulge in enjoying this momentary warmth. He had just been unsealed and was at his weakest moment. He needed to quickly hide in a safe place, slowly recover his strength, and then go to Mars to unseal his main consciousness.
With this thought, the Void Dragon's tail, a fusion of Blackstone and living metal, suddenly vibrated, and gravity was instantly reversed. The Void Dragon shot into the sky like a cannonball, attempting to fly out of the atmosphere and into the boundless deep space.
Feeling the increasingly thin air around him, the Void Dragon couldn't help but sneer in his heart.
After all, they were still monkeys, only understanding some primitive technology. How could they truly harm a god of the material universe like him? They merely helped him break free from Perturabo's restraints, granting him freedom.
If, at this very moment, a Necron Overlord with a tesseract labyrinth stood before him, blocking the Void Dragon, the Void Dragon would probably have become a prisoner again—
The sound of electricity crackling suddenly echoed in front of the Void Dragon. The space-time before him twisted, and a metallic figure glowing green suddenly emerged from a folded Pocket Dimension, blocking the Void Dragon's path.
Trazyn the Infinite let out a grim cackle. Before the Void Dragon could react, a tesseract labyrinth, divided into four sections, appeared beside him, roaring with emerald arcs of electricity, weaving an energy net that pressed down on the Void Dragon.
The Void Dragon let out a terrified roar. He couldn't understand how Trazyn had managed to predict his escape trajectory so precisely.
He struggled, unleashing his power, attempting to escape the confinement of the tesseract labyrinth.
The living metal forming the tesseract labyrinth was torn apart layer by layer by the Void Dragon, but the tesseract labyrinth extended metallic tendrils, rapidly drawing power from the Void Dragon to repair itself and forming shackles that wrapped around the Void Dragon himself.
The Void Dragon let out a sharp shriek, but it was ultimately futile.
The tesseract labyrinth closed, transforming into a green-glowing pyramid, completely imprisoning this fragment of the Void Dragon within it.
Trazyn let out a few cold laughs, then re-entered the Pocket Dimension, disappearing without a trace.
The heavy hammer broke through the air, carrying thunder as it smashed through the force field released by the iron halo, hitting Abaddon's face with a dull thud.
Abaddon's nose bridge broke, and he recoiled several steps in pain, his face covered in blood.
Fulgrim clutched forgebreaker with both hands, panting as he watched the scene unfold before him.
Fulgrim was inherently proud and unwilling to show his surprise.
But seeing Abaddon take a direct hit to the face with his hammer, he still showed a strange expression and couldn't help but ask, "What exactly is your face made of??"
This was completely illogical. Fulgrim knew the power of himself and forgebreaker best.
forgebreaker, wielded with his full strength, should easily cave in the head of even an Astartes wearing a Terminator helmet.
But Abaddon had actually taken Fulgrim's hammer blow with his face, only suffering a broken nose.
Is this right? This is not right!
This left Fulgrim somewhat at a loss, looking at his hand and forgebreaker in confusion, suspecting that something was wrong with his hand and the warhammer itself.
Abaddon spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth. Although he had taken Fulgrim's recent hammer blow, his condition was not very good either.
He could feel his strength ebbing, and a sense of weakness rising.
The efficacy of Vashtorr's creation was diminishing, and Abaddon wouldn't last much longer.
"Damn it, is the Red Angel not ready yet?" Abaddon cursed under his breath, hastily swinging drach'nyen to block Fulgrim's hammer blow aimed directly at his face.
Fulgrim's curiosity had been piqued by Abaddon's face-blocking maneuver just now. He couldn't help but want to try again to see if it was a coincidence or if Abaddon's face was truly that thick-skinned.
Just then, the long spear, shaped like the Spear of Accomplishment, pierced through the air, thrusting directly towards Fulgrim's face.
Fulgrim sharply turned, using forgebreaker to block the Red Angel's spear thrust.
Spear and hammer collided, and Fulgrim and the Red Angel each retreated a few steps, seemingly evenly matched.
This made Fulgrim's expression slightly more serious.
Although the Red Angel's appearance hadn't changed, Fulgrim still keenly sensed his transformation.
The Red Angel's imitation of Sanguinius' form was more condensed, clearer, and more real than before.
He was closer to Sanguinius than before. Even, faintly, the Red Angel's face already bore the divine radiance of Sanguinius, filled with compassion for all in the world.
After forcing Fulgrim back, the Red Angel did not continue to pursue. Instead, he stood frozen in place, his face wavering, his eyes unfocused, seemingly pondering something.
"What are you doing standing there?" Abaddon couldn't help but curse.
Why were his teammates always so unreliable?
For a moment, Abaddon even missed Khayon.
Khayon was his most reliable and loyal companion, accompanying him from his lowest point all the way to the Thirteenth Black Expedition.
When he launched the Thirteenth Black Expedition and opened the Great Rift, Abaddon sent Khayon to Terra to surrender to the Inquisition, thereby sending a message to Terra: he, Abaddon, was coming, would rampage through the stars along the Crimson Path, and kill the False Emperor on the throne!
He and Khayon had agreed that he would soon reach Terra, release Khayon, and together they would mock the Imperium's weakness amidst the ruins of the Imperial Palace.
But unexpectedly, circumstances changed. Guilliman and Sanguinius suddenly revived, and then the strange existence of Saint Doraemon appeared. Khayon would just have to suffer a bit more and endure for a while longer.
The Red Angel slightly opened his mouth. He twisted to look at Abaddon and said in a voice as clear as a sacred bell, "Was it too cruel for me to use my offspring as sacrifices..."
What?
Abaddon was stunned for a moment, then growled with a frown, "Are you crazy? At a time like this, you're suddenly feeling benevolent?!"
The Red Angel immediately shuddered, the compassionate aura on his face instantly vanishing, replaced by that eerie crimson strangeness.
Sweat ran down his forehead, shocked by the foolish words he had just spoken.
He... he had just been influenced by Sanguinius.
At this moment, the Red Angel realized he had been tricked by Tzeentch.
Tzeentch claimed that he could become Sanguinius once the ritual was complete, and there was no lie in that statement itself.
But Tzeentch deliberately made the Red Angel misunderstand.
Only now, as the ritual was nearing completion, did the Red Angel finally understand.
The essence of this ritual was to make him resonate and merge with Sanguinius, so that the two would be considered the same entity in terms of destiny.
But this was not just the Red Angel corrupting Sanguinius; it was also Sanguinius, in turn, corrupting the Red Angel.
Ultimately, whether the Red Angel would replace Sanguinius or Sanguinius would devour the Red Angel was uncertain, and it was even more than eighty percent likely that Sanguinius would achieve the final victory.
Both he and the Blood God were merely tools for Tzeentch to conceal his true conspiracy and buy time. He had never expected the Red Angel to succeed!
The Red Angel's eyes were wide with fury. He wanted to rush to destroy the Khorne artifact, the fury of khorne, which was the core of the ritual, to stop it. But just then, an image was reflected in his eyes.
He saw Gabriel Seth wielding his Chainsword, killing the last corrupted Crimson Angel.
That Crimson Angel died with resentment, anger, and unresolvable pain. These intense emotions flowed with the blood into the fury of khorne, into Sanguinius, into the Red Angel.
The ritual was complete.