The Brown-haired boy danced gracefully in the war-torn wheat field with his bare feet, singing a moving song:
"Holding a golden ring, he cunningly asked—"
"—'Tell me, Firstborn, if I transform into a tiny insect and hide within this ring, will you still find me?'"
In front of the Brown-haired boy, a tall, bald man danced with her, brandishing the warhammer in his hand, as if he was both fighting alongside the boy and clashing with him, he sang in a hearty voice:
"The Firstborn, with an inscrutable expression, replied, 'Even if you become a grain of salt in the vast ocean, I will find you.'"
The Brown-haired boy smiled and continued to sing: "The Emperor chuckled, 'You always love to speak in riddles. Tell me, can you truly see me?'"
"'When I shed my golden armor, remove my crown, and am no longer the Emperor?'"
"I can see you."
The bald man responded with a clear song:
"I see you!"
"In the silence of breath!"
"In the blinking of eyes with hidden tears!"
"In the shimmering light before the waves break!"
"In the cosmic stillness after the conch's sound fades!"
"The Emperor was silent," the Brown-haired boy continued to sing in a voice as clear as a woman's, "and gently picked up her golden ring."
The Brown-haired boy gently placed the golden ring on the bald man's finger: "It's yours, Centaur!"
Watching this scene, a Blood Angels warrior finally couldn't help but ask his Captain beside him:
"Sir, do we have to watch these damned Astartes Harlequin?"
"They are 'Psyker-Specialized Abhuman' Harlequin," the Captain said, his face twitching. "These bastards claim that the audience is an indispensable part of their drama, and we are the most suitable audience for this play."
Watching Hilandri, who claimed to be disguised as the Emperor, dancing with the bald man who clearly represented Horus, the Blood Angels Captain couldn't help but clench his fists.
What made the Blood Angels Captain even more uncomfortable was that he had to admit that in Hilandri's performance, he actually saw a glimpse of the Emperor.
It was as if the Emperor had truly manifested through the Harlequin's performance in Hilandri.
This made the Blood Angels look like vampires who had sucked the blood of a Nurgle follower.
Just then, a dazzling glow appeared on the horizon.
The light was as brilliant as dazzling gold, but what it brought was not a sense of solemnity and splendor, but rather a wave of dead silence, tranquility, and suicidal impulse.
"The Dark King..." Hilandri looked at the increasingly approaching Warp energy in the distance, her body trembling slightly.
It was hard to say whether the human race was lucky or unlucky.
Unfortunately, their race gave birth to the most complete destruction, the Dark King born of ending and death.
If the Harlequin still had a slim chance of survival against Slaanesh, then against the Dark King, humans would only end up as sacrifices.
But humanity was also lucky.
The Dark King refused to ascend, sitting on the Golden Throne, self-restrained, self-sealed, trapped between life and death, stuck at the last moment of ascension.
But this luck was for humanity itself; humans were thus able to continue as the Overlords of the galaxy for ten thousand years.
For other races in the galaxy, it was simply too dark.
For ten thousand years, humanity, as the Overlords of the galaxy, was immersed in a vortex of destruction and self-destruction, and the emotions generated perfectly nourished the Dark King, making his power stronger and stronger.
Although the Harlequin were also the Overlords of the galaxy back then, their population base was too small, and the time they spent completely degenerated in extreme debauchery was relatively short compared to their racial history, so the Slaanesh they gave birth to was the weakest of the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods.
But the Dark King, nurtured by ten thousand years of countless human pains, was able to suppress Slaanesh and Nurgle even before truly being born, and was even stronger than Tzeentch, comparable to Khorne, the Blood God, who was nourished by countless wars.
If he were truly born, perhaps even the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods would not be able to stop him, and could only let him destroy all things.
Humanity thus kidnapped the entire universe, and even the Warp Gods had to remain vigilant, not daring to touch the Emperor's bottom line, which would cause him to rise directly from the Golden Throne and destroy everything.
Originally, this was just a painful slow death; the Emperor would eventually reach a breaking point, unless an unexpected hope appeared.
And this hope, humanity really did wait for it.
What kind of luck did humanity have?
As a Harlequin, Hilandri could only envy.
Oh, wait.
She was a Psyker-Specialized Abhuman, what was she envying? She wasn't a Harlequin, she was a human!
God-Emperor above! Saint Doraemon above!
Hilandri took a deep breath and began to greet the Warp tide that was engulfing the entire planet.
That Warp tide contained no power from the other Chaos Gods / The Four Gods, only the Emperor's scorching psyker power.
But this did not mean that this Warp tide was safer.
The psyker power, filled with destructive and self-destructive tendencies, was an immense pressure on anyone's mind.
Hilandri believed that anyone with basic Warp knowledge would not attempt to forcibly control this energy.
Unless one possessed an extremely resilient will, they would inevitably be affected by the intense self-destructive emotions within it, leading to cracks in their spirit and soul.
The drama Hilandri had just performed was to guide this power through the strength of acting.
Even so, the moment she approached that tide of psyker power, Hilandri's heart still felt an unbearable surge of gloom and coldness.
She desperately twisted her body, forcefully performing the drama, barely managing to control the tide, and crashed it into the Blackstone Pylon not far away.
A mournful wail erupted from the Blackstone Pylon; under the impact of the strong Warp energy, the polarity of this Blackstone Pylon also reversed, turning into a Warp amplifier under the control of the Emperor's psyker power.
In an instant, this Warp energy transformed into scorching flames, engulfing and destroying all the Necrons on the entire planet.
Then, a Warp rift, shimmering with blazing golden light, tore open from the void and spread in all directions.
Meanwhile, on other crucial node planets at the edge of the Nephilim Sector, Tigurius, Mephiston, Keir Preem—these top-tier Psyker in the Imperium—also began doing similar things.
Their psyker powers, originally suppressed by the Pariah Nexus, surged forth, guiding the Emperor's psyker power to strike the Blackstone Pylons, reversing the polarity of the blackstone.
A chain reaction began; the Warp energy, originally suppressed beneath reality, gushed forth like springs piercing the earth, instantly tearing open several terrifying Warp rifts in the Nephilim Sector.
Inside his tomb ship, Szarekh, who was slowly reassembling his body using the reanimation protocols, calmly watched this scene unfold before him.
The edge of the Pariah Nexus was collapsing, and the Blackstone Pylons on many important node planets had their polarity reversed.
The anti-Immaterium stance at those locations disintegrated, instead amplifying the Warp and calling forth golden Warp storms that surrounded the entire Pariah Nexus.
Even those Warp rifts were attempting to penetrate deeper into the Pariah Nexus, to cleave the entire Pariah Nexus.
On the planets directly crossed by the Warp rifts, countless Necrons were bathed in golden flames, instantly turning to ash and dissipating.
And on the planets not crossed by the Warp rifts, strong Warp reactions also began to appear.
A group of human Astartes troops, engulfed in fierce flames like an army of the dead, suddenly appeared on the battlefield, launching surprise attacks on the Necrons forces, and began to dismantle the Blackstone Pylons that had not yet had their polarity reversed, one by one.
It seemed that there were individuals among humanity who possessed an extreme understanding of the Pariah Nexus's structure.
Who could it be?
Anrakyr?
Trazyn?
No, it shouldn't be either of them...
Could it be that there was an internal traitor among those under the Silent King responsible for the Pariah Nexus?
Szarekh slightly lowered his head in thought.
His contract with the Silent King had ended.
According to the agreement, he was to guard a node planet, and although he ultimately failed, Szarekh believed it was not his fault.
If Zellars hadn't interfered blindly by sending a The Burning One, it wouldn't have been so easy for humans to penetrate the Blackstone Pylon's shell.
This was Zellars's mistake; how could it be blamed on Szarekh?
Hiss, on second thought, could the traitor be Zellars himself?
No! The Silent King must pay the full reward as stipulated in the contract; it was clear he had wronged Szarekh this time.
As for humanity, Szarekh held no ill will towards them.
Zellars's interference with the Deathmark and Star God had already embarrassed Szarekh enough; if he were to seek revenge on humanity again, wouldn't he be completely shameless?
Moreover,
If Szarekh's guess was correct, the human girl who was his opponent should already be close to death; he would have nowhere to seek revenge.
Szarekh's consciousness stirred slightly, connecting to a Underworld Worker Construct construct he had left in a Pocket Dimension on the previous node planet.
He saw the human woman named Joan.
Her body was badly damaged, charred black, like charcoal after a great fire. Her head was shriveled, her eye sockets sunken, her eyeballs a dull gray-black, and she lay there on the red-sanded battlefield.
Szarekh shook his head slightly; he had warned her long ago that blindly trusting deities would lead to no good end.
This was also the difference between humans and Necrons.
No matter how many times, as long as the reanimation protocols were not destroyed, the Necrons could upload their memories and will again and again, and live in a brand new body.
But human life was, after all, only a fragile moment; once dead, it was dead.
Szarekh sighed slightly in his heart, feeling a faint, almost imperceptible sadness for the tragic fate of this poor girl.
This was because he thought of the Necron's past, and of the end of destruction that came from trusting deities too easily.
This poor girl also ended up in such a miserable state because she believed the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods would protect her, and whether their so-called Chaos Gods / The Four Gods even existed was still a question—
Crack—
Suddenly, the sound of a door opening echoed on the red-sanded battlefield.
A red-pink wooden door suddenly appeared beside Joan.
The Astra Militarum, who were kneeling beside Joan, praying to her dying body, immediately held their breath, almost daring not to breathe.
Even the Astra Militarum medic, who was about to try and save her, stopped in his tracks, reverently stepping back a few paces and kneeling on the ground.
The red-pink wooden door slowly opened, and out of it walked only a blue metallic figure.
The figure was round and plump all over, its head almost a large sphere, without ears, its face resembled a raccoon dog, its entire body was painted metallic blue, and it wore a semicircular pocket on its belly, looking quite adorable.
He simply walked calmly, step by step, to Joan's side.
Joan, lying on the ground, dying and extremely weak, slightly raised her shriveled head and opened her eyes, seemingly trying to look at the blue figure.
The blue metallic round figure said nothing, only gently extended a round hand towards Joan.
Joan also gently raised her arm, extending her index finger, shriveled to reveal carbonized bone, and gently reached for the blue figure's round hand.
The round hand and finger touched, and a ripple spread through the Warp. Joan instantly met death, and then life and death reversed.
Her flesh and blood began to regenerate in the blink of an eye, all her previous burns disappeared, her body was no longer shriveled, skin began to cover the newly grown flesh, and her eyeballs began to regrow like lychees in her shriveled eye sockets, recovering completely in an instant.
Even the torn linen clothes on her body were repaired in the blink of an eye and draped over her.
She blinked gently, feeling her fully recovered body, and lightly stood up from the ground, standing beside Alexander.
The surrounding Astra Militarum and Black Templars looked at this scene, first in a silence accompanied by heavy breathing, then with deafening praise and songs of Saint Doraemon.
Hobien White Deer stood on a small hill not far away, gazing at the round blue figure. Just then, the figure actually turned its head slightly and looked at him.
Hobien was startled at first, then showed an expression of joy, and shouted loudly: "Champion!!!"
Saint Doraemon, or rather, Alexander, smiled and waved his round hand at Hobien.
Then Alexander gently turned his head, looking in a direction he remembered, knowing that in that direction was hidden a Pocket Dimension, where an Phaeron was watching him through a drone construct hidden in that Pocket Dimension—
Overlord Szarekh silently watched this scene. He was a bit at a loss as to how to evaluate it.
Saint Doraemon actually manifested? What kind of god is this reliable??
Just as he was unable to comprehend this scene,
He suddenly saw a golden spark erupt from his still not fully repaired body.
Sizzle!!!