Chapter 501 - Strong!

Looking at the pitch-black Hellbrute, Fulgrim felt his mind stutter for a moment.

Abaddon?

Was that Abaddon the Despoiler?

How did he end up like this?

Who did this? So cruel?

Although Abaddon was a bit weak, a bit of a failure, a bit too accustomed to Pyrrhic victories, a bit undeserving of his position, and a bit prone to betraying his teammates, he was still the undisputed leader of all Chaos Astartes, the commander of a million righteous armies. How could he be reduced to being stuffed into a Hellbrute?

"Nephew! Who turned you into this!"

"Tell your uncle! Your uncle will avenge you!"

Fulgrim shouted at Abaddon.

This was both an involuntary outburst and a deliberate provocation, mimicking Alexander's speaking style.

Fulgrim had previously noticed that Alexander's way of speaking was quite effective at provoking and enraging enemies.

And Hellbrutes themselves endure unimaginable pain, making them even easier to provoke and lose their minds.

Abaddon let out a sharp battle cry mixed with pain.

Fulgrim was at least half responsible for his miserable state.

It was he who had tormented Abaddon into such a wretched condition, causing Abaddon to be forcibly crammed into the Hellbrute by Vashtorr, trapped in this endless hell of suffering.

Just now, upon seeing Fulgrim, he couldn't suppress the hatred in his heart and interrupted the 'Poppy,' the daemon of the ecstatic perception domain residing in his body, from corrupting Fulgrim.

The old-fashioned machine gun hanging from Abaddon's left hand lowered slightly. The corner of the eight-pointed star symbolizing the malicious art domain lit up, and orange-yellow bullets instantly turned into a dense rain of fire, shooting towards Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children following closely behind him.

Compared to bolter rounds, these bullets were exceptionally small, yet they carried a strange lethality. The closest Cursed Emperor's Children couldn't dodge them, and the moment a bullet grazed them, half of their body disintegrated.

The malicious art domain daemon 'maxim' was born from the slaughter wrought by humanity's first truly automatic weapon. Humanity's fear of the maxim and automatic weapons nurtured it. It symbolizes humanity's entry into a more efficient, more industrialized level in the art of self-slaughter, and has a natural restraint over large numbers of humans.

The more humans standing before 'maxim,' the more powerful this daemon's killing arts become.

When Vashtorr forged Abaddon, his goal was to make Abaddon a weapon against humanity. The eight daemons he injected into him were all closely related to humans, each one restraining humanity on some level.

The 'Poppy' that almost dragged Fulgrim into pleasure and ecstasy was also like this. Born from the most famous neuro-drug in human history, it naturally sows pleasure, stirs hallucinations, and drains the body in human nerves.

At this moment, a figure almost cast in pure gold stepped out of the battle formation, wielding twin swords and charging into the dense rain of bullets.

The orange-yellow bullets were forcefully deflected by the net woven by those two swords. The swordsman, relying solely on his swordsmanship, tore a gap in the maxim's bullet rain.

maxim's restraint on humans was against crowds; when facing a single person, its restraint became much weaker.

Akurduana didn't discover this; he simply charged out based on his fighting spirit, without considering so much.

But Fulgrim's superhuman brain allowed him to perceive this. He quickly issued orders for the surrounding Cursed Astartes to spread out their formation and break into smaller units.

And he himself moved slightly, wielding the forgebreaker warhammer, launching an attack on Abaddon's right side.

Abaddon suddenly raised his right hand, and the corner symbolizing unintentional slaughter glowed with a blood-red light.

A biting cold wind swept in, the grass and trees in the wilderness withered, all things became desolate, and the hungry herdsmen raised their eyes, looking south towards the fertile and warm land with bloody killing intent.

This bloody killing intent ultimately coalesced into an arrow, aimed at Fulgrim's glabella.

That was the daemon 'Huns' of the unintentional slaughter domain, born from the long hatred and slaughter between nomads and farmers, barbarians and civilization.

Whenever it was cold and biting, rainfall decreased, grass and trees withered, and for survival, nomadic tribes would inevitably ride south.

The more danger he was in, and the more civilized and prosperous his opponent, the more powerful this arrow, condensed from killing intent, would be against others.

As a clone of the Emperor's Children Primarch, Fulgrim was clearly within the range of this arrow's restraint.

A scarlet arrow shot towards Fulgrim's glabella, as if the sound of horse hooves echoed endlessly.

But the arrow missed. The arrow that should have hit Fulgrim's glabella missed.

In just a blink of an eye, Fulgrim's figure appeared behind the arrow.

This was no special ability, merely a small skill that many Astra Militarum possessed.

One of the three abilities from Alexander's Superpower Training Box: teleportation.

Fulgrim had mastered teleportation, telekinesis, and x-ray vision to perfection, reaching a flawless state.

The instant before the arrow hit him, Fulgrim used teleportation to move behind the arrow, perfectly dodging Abaddon's attack.

Fulgrim leaped, his heavy hammer smashing towards Abaddon's right arm.

The corner of Abaddon's body symbolizing erosion and destruction suddenly lit up, and the wails of ten million murdered people rang in Fulgrim's ears.

Demon Sword Drach'nyen appeared in Abaddon's hand, automatically adapting to the Hellbrute's size.

The human faces on the sword's blade suddenly opened their eyes, staring fixedly at Fulgrim.

"What foolishness are you doing! The Emperor is about to be driven mad! He's on the verge of becoming the Dark King!"

drach'nyen had been slacking off, sleeping, and enjoying Abaddon's ridiculous screams these days.

But today, this daemon, born from humanity's first murder, discovered in horror that the form of the erosion and destruction domain was becoming increasingly clear.

The burden on the Emperor had almost doubled, pressing him to the point of almost directly ascending to the Dark King. Fortunately, the Emperor held on at the last moment.

The daemons, both born and unborn, in the erosion and destruction domain were cheering for this, but drach'nyen only felt a chill in its heart.

Once the Dark King was born, it would relentlessly destroy everything, including the daemons within the erosion and destruction domain itself.

If it were drach'nyen from ten thousand years ago, it might have cheered, but now drach'nyen felt like it was going mad.

Ten thousand years ago, the Emperor, trading wounds for wounds, captured drach'nyen and sealed it, shaping it into this Demon Sword, and sealing it within the Custodian Ra Endymion.

Before this, the Emperor had implanted his past life into Ra Endymion's body, weaving an excess of humanity into it. Those human qualities and Ra Endymion's memories influenced and shaped drach'nyen, making it more like a person and ensuring it could never again accept returning to pure erosion and destruction, or unleash its full power.

drach'nyen did not hate the Emperor for this; on the contrary, it was even somewhat grateful to the Emperor. It had experienced the joys and leisure of being a person.

Therefore, upon realizing the Emperor almost ascended, drach'nyen became anxious.

"What foolishness are you doing!" drach'nyen questioned, its power suddenly soaring. Even Abaddon, suffering within the Hellbrute, was startled.

The power drach'nyen unleashed at this moment surpassed any moment in its memory.

drach'nyen, was it really that powerful?

In a daze, Fulgrim felt as if he stood in a field of wheat, and drach'nyen transformed into a sharp obsidian dagger, piercing towards him irresistibly.

Fulgrim hastily raised the forgebreaker warhammer in his hand to block, but drach'nyen seemed to carry the weight of all murders in human history, pressing down on Fulgrim, making his knees buckle, his body bend, almost forcing him to one knee on the ground, barely holding on with both hands gripping the forgebreaker.

Seeing Fulgrim pressed under his sword, Abaddon was a bit stunned. He had suffered a crushing defeat at Fulgrim's hands before.

Could it be... could he be terrifyingly powerful now?!

Amidst boundless pain, a hint of pleasure actually welled up in Abaddon.

At this moment, Akurduana transformed into a swift shadow, charging in Fulgrim's direction.

A hint of disdain welled up in Abaddon's heart. Even a clone Primarch had fallen at his hands; a mere deceased Astartes...

He suddenly raised Horus' Claw, embedded in his left hand, and swung it down towards Akurduana.

But Akurduana's reaction speed exceeded Abaddon's expectations. This Astartes' reflexes and speed far surpassed almost every Astartes Abaddon had ever seen.

Purely in terms of speed, he was even faster than Khârn and Sigismund, only slightly inferior in strength.

Akurduana leaped up, kicked Abaddon's coffin-like chest, and used the momentum to jump onto Abaddon's right arm. His twin swords wove into a net, hacking at Abaddon's arm, but only creating a series of shallow cuts.

Vashtorr's products, the quality is always so reliable — — — — — —

A phase sword shimmering with emerald light thrust out. This sharp Necron weapon, using phase technology, bypassed Abaddon's thick armor and pierced into its internal structure.

Just as Abaddon's attention was drawn away by Akurduana, Thor, using the Blind Spot Star's effect, silently circled to Abaddon's side and used the phase blade Zandrekh had given him to damage the arm holding Demon Sword Drach'nyen.

Abaddon's arm instantly lost control, swinging uncontrollably to the side.

"Useless!" drach'nyen cursed, attempting to take over Abaddon's arm with its Psyker power.

But Fulgrim seized this momentary opportunity, swinging his heavy hammer at Abaddon's arm.

Akurduana hastily leaped up, dodging. Abaddon's power arm, tightly gripping drach'nyen, instantly twisted and deformed into a pretzel-like shape.

"Use this sword!" Thor growled, throwing the phase court sword in his hand to Akurduana, while he, with a flick of his finger, conjured and gripped the piercing sword.

Akurduana dropped one sword, took the phase court sword, and attacked simultaneously with Thor and Fulgrim from three directions, stabbing at the coffin-like plate on Abaddon's torso.

But at this moment, a sticky squelching sound simultaneously reached the ears of the three, sending shivers down their spines.

A strange, foul stench suddenly rose in Fulgrim's throat, making him feel vaguely nauseous and dizzy. Everything before his eyes seemed to diffuse like ink in water, turning into swirling, twisting masses of cold, malevolent colors.

Those colors danced, the relative positions of all things shifted, sometimes here, sometimes there. Fulgrim felt as if his feet were treading on unstable mud, his head immersed in a grotesque sea reflecting the stars, everything surpassing the limits of what reason could contain.

Things ignored by the mind's self-preservation mechanism began to surface in Fulgrim's eyes, screaming and tearing at Fulgrim's soul. Fulgrim's sanity was like thin foam churning in a roaring tide, churning until it was almost gone.

On Abaddon's body, the corner symbolizing indeterminate distortion was emitting a nauseating, sticky glow, like octopus slime reflecting moonlight, like the flickering of a billion light orbs, like the dream-light of an imbecile.

Abaddon also didn't know what this daemon residing in him was.

He did not belong to the Blood God's domain; he had no killing intent towards all sentient beings, only indifference and detachment, because sentient beings had nothing to do with him.

He did not belong to Slaanesh's domain; he had no hunger that could be described, only a primal pulse.

He did not belong to Nurgle's domain; his existence was unrelated to life, whether life existed or not, he was there.

He did not belong to Tzeentch's domain; indeterminacy is formlessness, indescribable, unnameable, and formlessness naturally means no change.

He had nothing to do with erosion and destruction, because his very existence, life and death, was hard to define, and there was no impulse for destruction.

He had nothing to do with Malicious Art, because he was not a creation of knowledge, he was the unknowable, the opposite of knowledge.

He had nothing to do with greedy dissolution, because he had no concept of hunger whatsoever; he was some more abstract existence.

He came from the domain of infinite distortion, born in the vibrant era after human civilization and technology had just experienced an explosion.

In that era, people believed in human omnipotence, believed that humans could know all knowledge, believed that technology could transform the entire world. But in that very era, in the dark and damp shadows beneath the light, the seeds of the unknowable were nurtured.

Certain writings quietly fantasized about the unnamable existences in the universe, depicting absolute unknowability and unnamableness, painting the fear called unknown.

That daemon was the convergence of human agnosticism, an existence born from humanity's fear of the unknown.

His power was very special; he could not inflict much effective damage on the human body, yet he could extremely harm human sanity.

Abaddon raised Horus' Claw in his left hand, about to smash it down on Fulgrim in front of him.

"Abaddon!"

A voice suddenly rang out behind Abaddon, making Abaddon's body stiffen abruptly.

This voice sounded incredibly familiar to Abaddon, awakening the instincts in Abaddon's genes, making him freeze in place.

"Son. How did you end up like this?"

"Why are you still repeating my mistakes?"

Horus' voice suddenly rang out behind him.

Abaddon shouldn't have been affected or drawn in by this voice, because Sanguinius had played similar tricks before.

But at this moment, Abaddon was immersed in the boundless pain brought by the Hellbrute and the tearing of his soul by the eight daemons, his will so weak that only hatred, anger, arrogance, and a hint of midnight fear remained.

If Horus were to revive, Abaddon would not feel an ounce of joy, only scream in terror, "Dad, you're not dead!" and then flee in a panic.

It was just like the joke Alexander once told:

"One day, Chaos Warlord Abaddon and the Pope of the Adeptus Ministorum were bragging."

"The Pope said: 'The Emperor's will is supreme; even fallen warriors, as long as they hold loyalty to the Imperium in their hearts, can be resurrected and return to fight for the False Emperor.'"

"Abaddon said: 'The False Emperor is shameless, deceiving all beings. I will ride The Crimson Path and in an instant, rampage from the Eye of Terror to the edge of the galaxy.'"

"The Pope didn't believe him and demanded Abaddon prove it. Abaddon suddenly panicked and hastily summoned his sorcerers for a consultation."

"At this moment, a sorcerer who believed in the Lord of Change spoke: 'Warmaster Abaddon, I have a method. You can ask the Pope to have the False Emperor resurrect Horus. Once Warmaster Horus is resurrected, you won't need The Crimson Path; you'll instantly flee to the edge of the galaxy.'"

Although Abaddon often claimed to be the successor to Horus' cause, and that he would avenge his father against the False Emperor,

Abaddon knew that if Horus were to revive one day and see everything Abaddon had done over the past ten thousand years, he would only be enraged, only be saddened, and would only use his gold-ringed fists to pound Abaddon into a pulp, inch by inch.

In the quiet of midnight, when Abaddon closed his eyes, he would often see Horus' dying face, seeing those eyes filled with boundless resentment staring at him.

That face was so real, as if Horus' shattered soul was entwined with Abaddon's body, and even with a dying face, Horus was still so powerful, making Abaddon feel dread, and when he opened his eyes, he would often find himself drenched in sweat, with the power armor's built-in moisture recovery system activating.

Especially after he was crammed into the Hellbrute, he saw Horus' face even more frequently, saw the former Luna Wolves, and saw the sworn brothers of the Four Kings Council.

He could even hear Horus' dazed murmuring,

"You see, we all have our favorites."

"Scyarnus, he possesses a different kind of strength, he is my Guilliman, which is not to say he is disliked, but rather that he makes up for what we lack."

"Asimand, little Horus, my most loyal son, he is my Lorgar, somewhat drifting with the current, but truly loves and respects me."

"Sedire, my Captain, my personal guard, he is my Rogal Dorn. If someone were to assassinate me, it would surely be after he was assassinated first."

"Torgadon, easygoing and humorous yet reliable, he is my Ferrus, perhaps not the best choice among my sons, but always one of the best few."

"Loken? Of course, I must say, he doesn't resemble me much, but he is my most beloved son. I would deny it if others asked, because I cannot show too much favoritism."

"But I can quietly tell you—Loken is my Sanguinius."

"Izekiel? Oh, I really don't know what to say. Abaddon is my First Captain, he is the strongest, most resolute, and most like me among my offspring."

"Believe it or not, his achievements will surely far surpass mine. He is my eldest son, my Lupercal, but I also always worry about him, worry that he will make similar mistakes to mine."

In the years when Horus was still alive, Abaddon had never heard him say such words, yet he felt that these were indeed the words Horus would say.

Guilt, sadness, love for his father, and fear of Horus—these emotions intertwined in Abaddon's heart, and even the boundless pain brought by the Hellbrute could not erase them. These emotions drove Abaddon to turn his head.

Bald head!

A blue bald head was radiating light behind Abaddon.

A palm-sized blue raccoon dog floated beside Abaddon, clearly a Mini-Dora.

This Mini-Dora had eaten a voice-changing candy, and its voice had become like Horus', so much so that even Abaddon couldn't tell the difference.

This scene had a huge impact on Abaddon's already fragile mind. His emotions had originally reached their peak, but at this moment, they collapsed with a crash, as if he had been eating a crab stick all along, but in the end, he found there was no crab inside, only... it was very strange and hard to accept.

Abaddon's already limited brain, squeezed by pain, instantly became even more deranged.

"You ate my dad!"

"Dad! Don't be afraid! I'm going to dig you out of his throat right now!"

Abaddon's voice suddenly rose. He took a step, the ground shook, and he lunged at the tiny Mini-Dora floating in mid-air.

But the Mini-Dora was unhurried. With a flicker of its figure, it instantly transformed into eight, blocking Abaddon's path.

Eight chanting voices rang out simultaneously, all in a language Abaddon didn't understand, as if reciting eight different names.

In an instant, the eight daemons on Abaddon let out piercing screams. The eight Mini-Doras were chanting their true names, strongly suppressing their existence and tearing apart their bodies.

Abaddon immediately staggered back several steps as if struck by lightning. A strong tearing sensation dragged his body, and the eight daemons seemed to be screaming, trying to escape from him.

But at this moment, Fulgrim, wielding the forgebreaker warhammer, leaped up and swung the warhammer, striking Abaddon's body.

The warhammer, crafted by Fulgrim, modified by Ferrus, and enhanced by Perturabo for ten thousand years, erupted with boundless power in the hands of this clone Primarch, directly overwhelming Abaddon's massive body, causing Abaddon to fall to the ground, heavily pinned down.

Akurduana seized the opportunity, plunging his Phase Court Blade into the Hellbrute's body, severing the steel pipes that transmitted power, leaving Abaddon immobilized on the spot.

Fulgrim didn't attempt to deliver a final blow to Abaddon, mainly because he had tried too many methods last time, and couldn't kill Abaddon no matter what.

He was blessed by the Four Gods and now possessed by eight Greater daemons. If the Hellbrute were completely destroyed, who knew what kind of chaotic spawn or other monstrosities might emerge.

It was safer to simply destroy the Hellbrute's power system like this, temporarily incapacitating him.

"My Lord." Fulgrim looked at the Mini-Dora floating before him.

He knew that these little things were extensions of Alexander's power, naturally emerging from the power and spiritual light Alexander released, akin to the nurglings belonging to Nurgle, being the simplest daemons in structure and also the daemons closest to Alexander.

Now that these Mini-Doras had appeared on Dragon Forest Star, it indicated that Alexander's power had begun to infiltrate this area, having consumed at least half of the Soul Forge.

"What a beautiful form, this round head, this petite body, these round hands, this metallic sheen, truly a perfect creation that fits my aesthetic!" Akurduana exclaimed involuntarily before Fulgrim could say anything.

You've never praised me like that. Listening to Akurduana's words, a pang of bitterness suddenly welled up in Fulgrim's heart, and a hint of jealousy emerged.

The Mini-Dora seemed happy with Akurduana's praise. This tiny demon bounced a few times, extended its round hand to point the way for everyone, signaling them to follow its steps.

Fulgrim hesitated for a moment, looked at Abaddon beneath his feet, and silently questioned the Mini-Dora about what to do with Abaddon.

The Mini-Dora shook its head, seemingly indicating that Abaddon didn't need to be dealt with.

A brief will was transmitted to Fulgrim's mind.

The general meaning was that by preserving Abaddon, the Gods would continue to invest in him if they had no other pawns, but Abaddon's constant victories would ultimately lead to the Gods losing everything.

Fulgrim nodded, leaped down from the power-severed Abaddon, and stepped forward, wanting to catch up with the Mini-Dora's pace.

Orange-yellow light suddenly burst forth, and a metal giant, over ten meters tall, slammed onto the ground.

Perturabo, sensing Abaddon's fall, instantly teleported here using the power of Dragon Forest Star, blocking Fulgrim's path.

At this moment, the Iron Lord's metallic body was covered in deep blade marks and traces from shield impacts.

The moment he appeared, the surrounding factories, daemon Engines, and metal ground flew towards Perturabo, merging with his colossal metallic body, transforming into a thicker metal carapace, making his body even more massive.

Perturabo suddenly raised his metallic fist and smashed it towards Fulgrim.

The sound of 'Forest Walk' rang out at this moment, and Lion's figure appeared simultaneously, raising the Emperor's Shield, blocking Perturabo's heavy fist.

The heavy fist of that ten-meter-tall metal giant was actually blocked by Lion with a small kite shield.

Lion exerted force with his arm, deflecting Perturabo's heavy fist. The Sword of Loyalty simultaneously unsheathed, cutting a deep gash on Perturabo's arm.

"Are you truly so dedicated to that half-daemon?" Lion snorted coldly.

He had long noticed Perturabo's extraordinary seriousness, even more serious than many times during the Great Heresy, almost treating Lion as Dorn.

This also made Perturabo extremely difficult and dangerous.

"Not as serious as my desire to support you as Warmaster."

Perturabo sneered a few times, and the artillery on his body rained down on Lion:

"After all, you once generously gifted me several General Cannons."

Lion's face instantly darkened, and he gripped his sword tighter.

When Perturabo teleported to Fulgrim's side, what Lion worried about most wasn't Fulgrim being killed by Perturabo.

He worried that Perturabo would reveal what happened back then.

"Without the General Cannons you gifted me, how could I have achieved such a victory on Istvaan V?"

"Thanks to you, my dear Warmaster. Honestly, Horus' contribution to the Great Heresy might not have been greater than yours."

Perturabo didn't know why, but when he faced Lion, his mouth became exceptionally articulate, and his emotional intelligence inexplicably surged.

Was it because, back then, to trick the General Cannons from Lion, Perturabo had drained his emotional intelligence dry?

"My good Warmaster, every General Cannon you gifted me was a heavy hammer smashing against the walls of Terra!"

Perturabo said with sincere emotion.

"..General Cannons?"

"..Istvaan V?"

"..Siege of Terra?"

Some of the cursed Emperor's Children who survived Istvaan III and even lived until the Siege of Terra were momentarily stunned.

Listening to Perturabo's words, the several General Cannons that had caused so much destruction to the Imperium suddenly flashed in their minds.

No one knew where Perturabo had found those destructive weapons.

But now, according to Perturabo, those General Cannons were given to him by Lion.

"Lies!!" Lion growled.

His figure flickered, instantly appearing behind Perturabo. The Sword of Loyalty in his hand gleamed with cold light, cutting another deep gash on Perturabo's body.

Perturabo quickly used the power of Dragon Forest Star to shift his position, creating distance from Lion, and began to unleash a barrage of artillery fire at Lion.

Lion had no choice but to raise his shield to protect Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children behind him.

Perturabo constantly maneuvered against Lion using this tactic, almost never engaging in close combat with Lion, only repeatedly creating distance and suppressing Lion with firepower.

"Lies!"

Perturabo laughed aloud:

"I prefer to call it a secret!"

"But unfortunately, we all know the First Legion has no secrets."

"Just as the Second Imperium never existed, and the Third Primarch never fell!"

Perturabo's single sentence made both Lion and Fulgrim's faces darken simultaneously.

The two moved almost at the same time. Fulgrim's figure flickered, swinging his heavy hammer to tear a path through the barrage of fire.

Lion, on the other hand, directly used Forest Walk, appearing before Perturabo, and swung the Sword of Loyalty horizontally.

Perturabo hastily manipulated layers of armor to block Lion's strike.

Relying on his thick armor, Lion was always unable to deliver a fatal blow with a single sword, and when a strike missed, Perturabo would teleport away to create distance again.

This repeated back and forth, Lion simply couldn't defeat Perturabo and had to find a way to make Perturabo willingly engage him in close combat.

But how could Perturabo abandon his firepower advantage?

Just then, a Mini-Dora slowly floated in front of Lion, tapped the Emperor's Shield in Lion's hand, and shook its round hand at Lion.

It seemed to be telling Lion: This shield isn't good enough, I'll give you a better one.

Under the bewildered gazes of Lion and Perturabo, the Mini-Dora slowly pulled out a half-finished female robot from its pocket and hung it on the Emperor's Shield.

Indeed, there was such a custom in the Imperium now; Astartes would embed the relics of saints and the bones of the fallen into their shields, hoping that those great deceased who sacrificed for the Emperor would protect them and enhance the shield's defense.

But the sturdy shield in Lion's hand was the Emperor's Shield, containing the Emperor's immortal power and flowing with sacred Psyker energy. No skeleton in this world could be worthy of this shield.

Lion also didn't believe that hanging a skeleton on his shield would allow him to withstand Perturabo's gunfire.

Moreover, this wasn't some holy relic, just a half-finished female robot, and he didn't even know what it was for.

But when Perturabo saw the half-finished female robot hanging on the shield, the Iron Lord's massive body suddenly stiffened, as if his mind had suffered a tremendous shock.

"..Kalibos."

Perturabo's voice was short, pained, mixed with anger, agony, and disbelief.

He was pierced through the mind by the malice revealed in Mini-Dora's actions.

"How dare you! Lion! How dare you!!!"

"I'll kill you!!!"

Perturabo's roar erupted, and all the weapons on his body simultaneously changed direction, no longer suppressing Fulgrim and the cursed Emperor's Children, but instead all aimed at Lion.

Bolters, Bolt Pistols, sub-atomic cannons, laser weapons, plasma weapons, melta weapons... each one dangerous and deadly, embodying Perturabo's millennia of wisdom and creativity, capable of easily crushing a Knight, dissolving a Dreadnought, or destroying a group of Astartes.

Lion's combat instincts controlled his body; he quickly raised the Emperor's Shield with the half-finished robot hanging from it.

On the Kite Shield, the body of the half-finished female robot repeatedly collided with the shield's surface, clanging incessantly.

".."

Perturabo's weapons were aimed at Lion, but he didn't fire for a long time. The Iron Lord's heavy breathing was clearly audible.

"You!"

"I!"

"Ah!!!"

Perturabo roared in resentment, and the weapons on his body simultaneously shifted away.

Lion blinked lightly, looked at Perturabo, then at the half-finished female robot on his shield.

"Hmm?"

"Hmm."

"Hmm!"

"Oh!"

His superhuman brain rapidly processed, and after realizing that Perturabo was unwilling to harm the half-finished female robot on his shield, a smile appeared on Lion's lips.

So that's how it is, so that's how it is. Lion was filled with awe.

He immediately took a step forward, walking through the forest, and then appeared before Perturabo in the blink of an eye, shield in one hand, sword in the other, launching an attack at Perturabo.

Perturabo let out a low growl, anger driving him to swing his fist at Lion.

But just as he swung his fist, Lion raised the shield in his hand, and the female robot's face was directly exposed to Perturabo, her bionic eyes staring blankly at Perturabo.

Perturabo's fist stopped in mid-air.

Lion grinned, and the sharp blade in his hand cut a deadly arc, tearing off four fingers from Perturabo's metal gauntlet, exposing damaged wires within.

Perturabo grunted, his figure flashed, and he instantly appeared behind Lion, his weapons aimed at Lion's back.

But Perturabo was ultimately not a Primarch skilled in martial arts; his reaction speed was much slower than Lion's.

Before he could fire, Lion had already turned around, bringing the Emperor's Shield to guard his front.

Perturabo let out a low growl, a combination of pain, anxiety, helplessness, and exasperation.

"Aren't you steel within and without?" Lion asked with a sneer.

Perturabo was a mix of shame and indignation; he had to admit that he was truly provoked.

The provocation stemmed from Perturabo realizing his own incompetence.

The half-finished female robot was his uncompleted "sister," his newest and most nearly perfect creation, but it had been stolen by the Blood Ravens previously.

This meant that this half-finished robot was almost like his sister, yet now she was being wantonly played with and humiliated by Lion.

Perturabo, this incompetent brother, could only feel shame and anger, standing there watching, allowing Lion to wield her, to toy with her, yet Perturabo didn't even dare to shoot.

A greater sense of incompetence came from Perturabo realizing that his inner depravity had been exploited by the other party.

It wasn't that he didn't dare to destroy that half-finished female robot, nor that he couldn't.

Even finished products, he had destroyed countless of them.

Each time, those female robots failed to satisfy Perturabo.

If those female robots, upon gaining consciousness, condemned him, Perturabo would feel angry, because his sister loved him, how could she condemn him? He would then destroy that robot.

If those female robots, upon gaining consciousness, flattered him, Perturabo would feel annoyed, because his sister was not one to fawn, she would never do that. He would then destroy that robot.

Over ten millennia, Perturabo's craftsmanship had continuously improved. His skill allowed him to create robots identical to the deceased at will. Each time Perturabo created a "sister," he believed it would surely succeed, but he just couldn't create a sister that satisfied him.

In other words, if Lion's shield had been tied with a "sister" that Perturabo had scrapped, or a completed, talking sister, Perturabo would have unhesitatingly declared it fake, a shoddy product, and then destroyed it.

But this robot before him happened to be the crystallization of Perturabo's latest technology, and it was still a half-finished product. No one knew if this robot would be his sister when completed, and Perturabo couldn't claim she wasn't.

He... he couldn't act. Not because of love for his sister, but because he couldn't bring himself to admit that he didn't love her.

Incompetence, annoyance, resentment intertwined in Perturabo's heart, so much so that he could only passively take a beating in front of Lion now.

But... to be honest, taking a beating like this actually gave Perturabo a strange sense of pleasure.

He was enduring pain for the love of his sister, without regret. This feeling of sacrifice made him feel good about himself, satisfying his martyr complex deep down.

He even began to unconsciously and actively accept more of Lion's attacks.

But soon, Perturabo felt annoyed again.

His superhuman brain made him realize that this emotion was also anticipated and exploited by the other party.

This feeling of his inner depravity being seen through made Perturabo's emotions even more twisted, difficult to resolve, and his actions became less rational.

Fulgrim watched this scene and felt a chill run down his spine.

Fulgrim himself was a born diplomat, a master at manipulating others' psychology. He could vaguely discern some of Perturabo's inner thoughts from his increasingly self-contradictory behavior.

Alexander's grasp of Perturabo's psychology, and the malice with which he manipulated it, was enough to make Fulgrim shudder.

Fulgrim even imagined that if he were to become enemies with Alexander in the future, the other party would probably silently pull out a Ferrus' head from his pocket and throw it at him, and perhaps even stuff a Meltabomb into Ferrus' head.

Fulgrim shivered, not daring to think further.

He didn't waste time. Seizing the moment Lion had Perturabo suppressed, he led the cursed Emperor's Children and Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) behind Mini-Dora, rushing towards the core of Dragon Forest Star.

He swiftly cut down several daemon Engines. As he advanced, Fulgrim gradually noticed that there were more and more Mini-Doras around him.

These Mini-Doras were using all sorts of strange tools to help them clear the path.

This meant that Alexander was devouring more and more Soul Forges.

But at the same time, the sky of Dragon Forest Star was also constantly changing.

The surroundings of this Old One artifact became increasingly deep and dark, occasionally flashing with light like sparks from an internal combustion engine. Fulgrim could also vaguely hear whispers from the nearby Warp.

Those whispers were filled with madness, extremism, and unrestrained wisdom, weaving a series of illusions before Fulgrim.

He saw creativity bursting forth from countless minds. The wisdom once used to transform worlds and benefit star systems was forced to forge weapons. More and more dangerous and powerful weapons were born in roaring factories, quickly used on battlefields, and then quickly surpassed by enemies.

So more wisdom was unleashed, creativity became increasingly unrestrained. Their weapons surpassed the enemy's, and then were surpassed by the enemy again. This cycle repeated, the power of weapons grew stronger and stronger, becoming more and more devoid of morality, more and more out of control, more and more reckless.

Star systems were incinerated, galaxies were burned to ashes by burning energy-body divine weapons and those deadly weapons. More and more cruel decisions were made, solely to preserve more lives.

Fulgrim watched these scenes, gradually feeling a chill down his spine.

A long-standing question was thus answered before Fulgrim's eyes.

What remained beyond the galaxy?

The answer was only a desolate, scorched earth.

In the war known as the War in Heaven, the burning of star systems was not a metaphor.

The Old Ones continuously lost in their war against the C'tan because they always harbored a bit of morality, a bit of rationality, unwilling to fully unleash their terrifying creativity, not malicious enough.

They repeatedly chose to preserve the majority of lives, but the ultimate result was ever-increasing sacrifices, an increasingly arduous war, and morality itself became their downfall.

Finally, the Old Ones were forced back into the galaxy. This was their last bastion, and within this bastion, some Old Ones finally abandoned all morality.

"Father?" Thor's voice sounded in Fulgrim's ear.

Fulgrim's body trembled, and he suddenly woke up, realizing that he had almost fallen into the interference of the surrounding Warp energy.

"Your Warp resistance is a bit weak," Akurduana said sincerely.

Although Akurduana's words were sincere, they fell into Fulgrim's heart with a strange pang of bitterness.

His steps also stopped at this moment, because before him, on the iron ground, appeared a fortress.

It was a fortress cast from metal, full of spires and intricate walls, like a fusion of medieval and blasphemous technology.

"Santagrott. Is this Santagrott?" Zabriel, the leader of the Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) accompanying Fulgrim, suddenly spoke, asking the Erebus Angel beside him in a low voice.

"It is indeed Santagrott, Blood Mountain, the fortress of the Star Wolves Knight Order," said an old Erebus Angel warrior who was born on Caliban, grew up on Caliban, and even participated in the Great Beast Hunt.

Fulgrim cast a questioning gaze.

...This is the garrison of the Star Wolves Knight Order," Zabriel hesitated for a moment, then explained: "In the years before the Emperor arrived on Caliban, the Star Wolves Knight Order and the Order of the Lion led by Lion were sworn enemies."

"Lion launched a war called the Great Beast Hunt, attempting to kill all the Great Beasts on Caliban."

"But the Star Wolves Knight Order believed that the Great Beasts shaped the Calibanite Knights, shaped their culture, traditions, and everything. Lion destroying the Great Beasts was destroying Caliban."

"But in the end, Lion defeated the Star Wolves Knight Order and destroyed them."

Fulgrim turned his head, knowing that Zabriel was still holding back. His violet eyes seemed to possess a captivating power.

Zabriel hesitated, then said in a slightly rougher voice: "The Star Wolves Knight Order preserved a large amount of knowledge and texts about Chaos and the Warp. The sheer volume of knowledge they possessed was completely unreasonable. Furthermore, the knowledge mastered by the Four Gods' followers in the galaxy was completely different."

"Luther secretly preserved some of that knowledge and read and used it."

"I know," Fulgrim understood the meaning behind Zabriel's words: "Luther, with the help of those powers, could even rival Lion. Do you think that was the knowledge of the Old Ones?"

"Very likely. Thinking about it now, if Caliban is the Old One artifact ouroboros, and the Great Beasts, and the cultures and societies shaped by the Great Beasts, are also part of Caliban, then the Star Wolves Knight Order, who protected these, might be the voice of Caliban's will." Zabriel felt a tightness in his throat.

As a Dark Angel, he was not accustomed to sharing the Legion's secrets in this way, but Lion had warned them of the importance of this battle, so he shared it for the sake of the greater good.

Fulgrim nodded slightly, made a gesture, signaling the cursed Emperor's Children and Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) to form a formation, gather their strength, and step into the fortress.

The fortress was not dim; orange-yellow furnace fires replaced ancient chandeliers, hanging within the fortress.

Fulgrim and his group encountered almost no resistance on their way into the castle, smoothly entering the castle's great hall.

In the castle's great hall, stood the corpse of a child, and beside the child's corpse...

A young knight slowly turned his head to look at Fulgrim, and at Zabriel.

The knight was exceptionally tall, even reaching Fulgrim's height. He wasn't wearing power armor, only a winged helmet and heavy metal armor. He held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and the gloomy eyes hidden beneath his helmet quickly scanned everyone present.

Everyone felt as if they had been glanced at by a Lion.

Fulgrim's throat suddenly felt tight. Akurduana beside him stepped forward, about to act, but was stopped by Fulgrim's outstretched hand.

Fulgrim usually wouldn't stop Akurduana, because Akurduana's power could defeat almost any enemy, and letting him freely wield those two swords was the best tactic.

But... but that knight was different.

"How could it be..." Zabriel's eyes widened, and he gasped, a chill running through his entire body. The Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) behind him froze in place.

The knight said nothing, only reached out and slowly removed the winged helmet from his head. Golden hair was exposed to the air, followed by gloomy, Lion-like eyes and a face...

A young face.

The knight, clad in medieval metal armor, slowly removed his winged helmet, revealing his youthful face to the air, to Fulgrim and the Astartes.

The moment he saw that face, even Fulgrim felt a surge of fear from the depths of his heart.

It was a face shaped by dense forests, giant beasts, shadows, and the savagery far removed from human society. His skin was pale yet rough, his nose long like an eagle's, his eyes deep-set like a beast's, his lips cold as a blade, and his jawline sharp like the fractured edge of igneous rock after being hammered.

Yet, even though this face was handsome enough to make Fulgrim marvel, Fulgrim still felt that the one standing before him was not a human, but a beast in human form.

But surprisingly, everyone present was familiar with that face.

He was...

Before Fulgrim could exclaim the name, the knight took a step, instantly appearing before Fulgrim.

How fast!

Besides Fulgrim, only Akurduana barely reacted in time.

A gash appeared on Fulgrim's body; the medieval sword had actually cut through Fulgrim's power armor. Fulgrim hurriedly retreated, his warhammer swinging out with him.

Akurduana also drew his twin swords at this moment, their blades weaving a dense net, striking at the knight.

The knight's figure instantly transformed into a silver storm. His heavy shield directly blocked Fulgrim's warhammer, while a deadly blade thrust out, instantly parrying the sword net woven by Akurduana.

So fast!

Fulgrim and Akurduana were both startled deep in their hearts.

That speed did not come from exquisite martial arts, but entirely from beast-like instinct, from an unrefined, savage destructive power.

The shield moved slightly aside, and the Lion-like emerald eyes stared at Fulgrim. Then, before Fulgrim could react, the longsword thrust out from behind the shield, aiming directly for Fulgrim's abdomen.

Fulgrim shifted his body, and the sharp blade scraped across the armor on his side. The ornate patterns on Fulgrim's armor played a role at this moment, increasing the friction between the sword and the armor. Those decorations were more like hooks dragging the sword.

The knight's sword was slowed for a single instant because of this.

Fulgrim seized that instant.

He turned, swung his hammer, and the energy accumulated within forgebreaker was unleashed. A furnace-like heat and light exploded, forcing the knight back.

The knight retreated several steps, holding his sturdy shield, once again guarding the child's corpse.

Fulgrim did not pursue, breathing heavily, his fingers trembling slightly as he gripped forgebreaker.

What a joke.

"Father," Zabriel murmured, a little dazed.

That was the Lion, that was Lion El'Jonson, it was Lion El'Jonson in his youth.

Sweat streamed down Fulgrim's forehead as he stared incredulously at the knight before him, the knight whose appearance was identical to Lion El'Jonson in his youth.

How was this possible? Even the power the knight displayed was exactly like that of the true Lion El'Jonson, only...

Only something was missing internally. Just like Fulgrim.

"You..." Fulgrim's gaze lingered on the child's corpse. Information about that corpse was in the intelligence brief: "Tuqiaocha Engine?"

"This corpse is not the Tuqiaocha Engine itself, but merely a tool the Tuqiaocha Engine uses to communicate with you."

The child's corpse smiled as it looked at Fulgrim:

"Now the Tuqiaocha Engine has merged with Dragon Forest Star itself, becoming part of the Engine of Discord, so I am actually Dragon Forest Star itself."

"You must be confused, container of the thirst for perfection."

"Why does your elder brother stand before you in such a form?"

"It's actually very simple. This is our ability. When we combine, we can tear the very fabric of space-time, summoning all the creations of sentient beings from the past."

"You and your brothers are containers for the unborn tides of the Warp, naturally, you can also be summoned by us from the cracks of time and space."

"No, he is not Lion El'Jonson." Fulgrim stared at the knight, his expression darkening slightly, stating decisively.

Although his physical attributes were almost identical to Lion El'Jonson, and even stronger than the current Lion El'Jonson, in deeper matters, he could not rival Lion El'Jonson.

He, he was something similar to Fulgrim, with only a body, but lacking something more crucial.

After all, Fulgrim had sparred with the true Lion El'Jonson many times, and no matter how many times, the true Lion El'Jonson could easily defeat Fulgrim.

Even if the true Lion El'Jonson's body was aging, and he was not as physically strong as he was in his youth.

"Yes, he is like you, just a container."

The child's corpse said with a smile;

"You are a container for the thirst of all sentient beings for absolute perfection, and Lion El'Jonson—"

"..In a sense, he is Caliban itself, one of us."

"Our three artifacts each symbolize a link in creativity."

"ouroboros symbolizes the creativity of man being shaped by the world, the culture shaped by life to adapt to nature and survive in the face of brutal, dark nature."

"Tuqiaocha symbolizes the creativity of man shaping the world. At this time, human creativity has been ignited; they contend with nature, carving out a culture in the world that transcends nature."

"plagueheart symbolizes the creativity of man destroying the world. The madness within humanity is fully unleashed, extreme power is poured upon the world; that is a culture completely detached from the world."

"Lion El'Jonson was born from the first type of creative thought, the most savage and primitive creativity, the creativity of a beast, the creativity of instinct, sharing the same origin as ouroboros. So he is ouroboros, he is Caliban itself, but unfortunately, he rejected his destiny, hiding his savagery behind a human facade."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Fulgrim's expression grew increasingly grim. His instincts began to make him aware of some danger.

"The unborn tides that shaped you are too powerful. Each possesses the talent to sit among the many lords in the Warp, and even has a chance to contend for the Great Throne. Most of our current energy is used to open the path to the vault, so naturally, we cannot summon a complete Primarch, only empty shells."

"..But Lion El'Jonson is different. Lion El'Jonson is one of us, and we can also be Lion El'Jonson."

"Lion El'Jonson's body is very suitable for us."

The moment the child's corpse's voice fell, something seemed to suddenly appear in the young Lion El'Jonson's eyes, and his aura climbed steadily. An undisguised savagery was exposed in the young Lion El'Jonson's expression.

The Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) seemed to be struck by lightning, suddenly retreating three to five steps, trembling all over. An instinctive suppression was exerted upon them.

"You see, we can also be Lion El'Jonson." The young knight slowly opened his mouth and said, "But—"

A wind suddenly blew through this fortress. In the distance, the sound of battle songs from the plains seemed to echo, and a murderous aura that made the surroundings spin came rushing in. The Warp fluctuations around seemed to calm down, and the sound of hooves was growing more urgent.

"We originally planned to temporarily slow down the operation of Dragon Forest Star, diverting at least one-third of our power into Lion El'Jonson's body to quickly deal with you."

"But he... your other brother, he has fully embraced his own existence."

"He is an echo of the past balanced years between the Warp and reality. In the words of a Dragon Emperor from another world, he is Yin-Yang Harmony itself, symbolizing the balance between reality and the Warp."

"This place is too close to the Webway. If we inject too much Warp energy into Lion El'Jonson's body, that echo of Yin-Yang Harmony could instantly hunt him down. Having him fight Lion El'Jonson would only be a waste of time."

"This was probably also within Saint Doraemon's expectations. It must have been Saint Doraemon who, without any of us noticing, helped your brother accept his true nature and become a secondary divine being, balancing reality and the Warp."

Lion El'Jonson's aura suddenly weakened, returning to its previous state.

The sound of hooves also seemed to gradually disappear as if losing their direction.

A brother, Yin-Yang Harmony, a secondary divine being. A free-spirited man, like the wind, appeared in Fulgrim's mind.

"However, Saint Doraemon did give us inspiration. Malice doesn't necessarily have to be embodied in the weapon itself; the way the weapon is used can also be malicious."

"Some weapons themselves may not be outstanding, but when used in the right place, they are exceptionally malicious."

The child's corpse chuckled faintly, seemingly pleased with the new knowledge it had acquired, and with having witnessed even more immoral creativity.

The space-time in front of Fulgrim was suddenly torn apart, and a towering figure slowly reappeared from the rift in space-time, standing before Fulgrim.

It was a figure taller than Fulgrim, with strong muscles, hands that glowed with a silvery metallic luster, and a long blade burning with fierce flames clutched tightly in his hands.

Fulgrim's face instantly became as gloomy as a viper, and there was only coldness in his violet eyes.

"Ferrus." Fulgrim softly uttered the name of the tall figure before him.

The smile on the child's corpse's lips became clearer: "Precisely, your close friend, your brother, your nemesis, Ferrus, whom you killed with your own hands."

"He is like you, just a container. But isn't it fitting for a container to face a container?"

"Come, container of the thirst for perfection, as long as you defeat Ferrus and Lion El'Jonson, you can enter the fortress behind me and hunt Vashtorr."

Fulgrim remained grimly silent, merely looking at Zabriel and Akurduana behind him.

"He is defiling my father's honor," Zabriel growled. "I will kill that fake."

"The Lion, the First Primarch, I've long wanted to taste that!" Akurduana was even a little excited.

"This fake Ferrus," Fulgrim's voice was hoarse and cold, "..let me kill him."

This even made the Cursed ones beside him involuntarily step back. They saw in Fulgrim some shadows of Fulgrim after his fall.

Akurduana and Zabriel led the Cursed Emperor's Children and Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) to charge at the young knight.

The knight's expression was cold, and his emerald eyes instantly swept over the Emperor's Children and Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels).

Slash!!!

The head of a Cursed Emperor's Children flew into the sky with a sound. No one saw when the young knight charged or when he drew his sword.

Akurduana let out a battle cry, his figure flashing as he caught up with the young knight, his twin swords outlining a deadly arc.

Lion El'Jonson's figure flickered, dodging Akurduana's sword in a beast-like instinctive manner.

The chief swordsman was startled by Lion El'Jonson's movements, involuntarily expressing approval.

Lion El'Jonson drew his sword, thrusting directly at Akurduana's throat.

He was like a giant beast that had been lurking in the shadows for a long time, striking without any superfluous movements, solely to deliver a fatal blow.

Akurduana felt a strong fear surge from his already dead body. But at the same time, joy and exhilaration also surged.

He found the feeling he had when he faced an enraged Ferrus while he was still in the Iron Hands.

A cut appeared on Akurduana's face, and flames spewed forth, but he dodged Lion El'Jonson's fatal sword strike.

"To be able to dodge the Lion's sword, truly worthy of the First Swordsman!" Zabriel's voice of admiration rang out. The First Erebus Angel aimed his gun at Lion El'Jonson and pulled the trigger.

Lion El'Jonson's figure moved, rushing towards Zabriel before Zabriel could pull the trigger, even faster than the true Lion El'Jonson.

"But not as deadly as the true Lion El'Jonson." Zabriel's figure moved, his instantaneous movement ability, trained by the psyker box, made Zabriel's figure disappear from his original spot.

At the same time, a melta pistol, controlled by telekinesis and suspended in the shadows, silently fired, a bright, roaring heat ray shooting towards Lion El'Jonson.

Lion El'Jonson raised his shield to block the attack.

But Akurduana also rushed to Lion El'Jonson's side at this moment. Lion El'Jonson swung his sword, thrusting at Akurduana.

However, the chief swordsman of the Emperor's Children had now adapted to Lion El'Jonson's speed and attack style. His figure flitted like a butterfly, a speed completely beyond the maximum an Astartes could tolerate.

Among the heroes of the Great Crusade, Sigismund was stronger, Khârn was more ferocious, Raldoron was better at commanding, Abaddon was tougher, Sevatar was more dangerous, Ahriman was more deadly, Qin Xia was more perceptive, and Akurduana... Akurduana was faster.

The young Lion El'Jonson's chest plate was torn by the twin swords, and a little blood seeped from his chest, but Lion El'Jonson retreated at the last moment, avoiding more fatal damage.

And in a fleeting moment, he gripped the longsword in a backhand grip, thrusting it into Akurduana's shoulder.

But a smile appeared on Akurduana's lips.

Just as his body jammed Lion El'Jonson's longsword, Thor appeared behind Lion El'Jonson with his piercing sword.

That deadly alien weapon directly pierced Lion El'Jonson's back, aiming for Lion El'Jonson's heart—

Lion El'Jonson released the sword in his hand, quickly turned around, and punched Thor's head. Thor almost felt death.

Zabriel hurriedly pulled the trigger. Lion El'Jonson's figure flashed, dodging the attack. Thor also hurriedly retreated, putting distance between himself and Lion El'Jonson.

"This is the Lion," Zabriel said with a mix of pride and bitterness.

"I almost thought I had joined the Cursed ones," Thor said, panting.

"Awesome," Akurduana just smiled. "Come, round two."

Not far away, Ferrus looked at Fulgrim, who stood before him, and actually slowly opened his mouth.

"You once killed me, are you going to kill me a second time now?"

Fulgrim just stared at him like a viper. At this moment, a series of images were appearing before his eyes.

In those memories, he repeatedly, in different ways, killed Ferrus.

"Crude," Fulgrim coldly commented. "And you are mistaken."

"I killed Ferrus more than once."

"Are you going to betray our father again?"

Ferrus, holding the flaming sword he had forged for Fulgrim with his own hands, asked in a low voice.

Evidently, the child's corpse was attempting to attack his mind in this manner.

"You may not understand. If that one seizes the position of Malicious Art in his own way, the pressure on our father will suddenly double."

"If he cannot endure it, the Dark King will be born and personally destroy this galaxy he cherishes."

Ferrus' voice was identical to his former voice, causing Fulgrim's body to tremble slightly for a moment.

But the clone of the Purple Phoenix gritted his teeth: "I believe in my father; the Emperor will never fall."

"He already fell once, because of your—"

Before Ferrus could finish his sentence, Fulgrim, wielding the forgebreaker warhammer, charged at Ferrus.

"Scum, if you dare to speak another word in Ferrus' voice, I will make you know what pain is!"

Fulgrim's face was twisted, and coupled with the three scars he had carved on his face, he looked as terrifying as a Gorgon.

A momentary look of astonishment flashed across Ferrus' face.

This situation was somewhat beyond his expectations.

How could this be?

Shouldn't Fulgrim, facing Ferrus, be as timid and hesitant to act as Perturabo was when facing his mechanical sister?

Dragon Forest Star clearly used psychological tactics similar to Alexander's, but why were the results somewhat different?

This made Dragon Forest Star a little annoyed. At the same time, reconstituting Ferrus and Leman Russ from spacetime consumed a significant amount of his energy, and maintaining their existence for longer consumed even more. The greater the consumption here, the slower Dragon Forest Star would be in reaching the Vault of the Old Ones.

But at this point, it was too late to change tactics.

He could only hope that Fulgrim would still show hesitation and uncertainty when facing Ferrus.

The flaming sword and the forgebreaker collided, sending sparks flying in all directions.

Ferrus' iron hands were even more powerful, pushing the sword back, forcing Fulgrim to retreat. At the same time, the Gorgon's armor on his back unfolded, and a pair of plasma burst cannons deployed, aiming at Fulgrim's head.

Ferrus' strength was indeed greater, but in terms of speed, Fulgrim had the upper hand.

Fulgrim's figure transformed into a flowing blur of purple and gold, instantly widening the distance from Ferrus. Plasma beams continuously shot towards Fulgrim but were always a step behind him, leaving a trail of scorch marks on the ground.

Exquisite, isn't it?

Even if he is a vile copy, he still possesses extraordinary talent.

Fulgrim thought, dodging Ferrus' attacks, while staring at Ferrus.

It was as if he was talking to himself, and yet also talking to someone else.

He is always so excellent, you are right, look at his iron hands, flowing like mercury, strong and powerful, yet capable of creating extraordinary things.

He is closer to the true Ferrus than those clumsy clones made by Fabius; he is a reflection summoned from time and space, but—

"But he is not Ferrus," Fulgrim shouted loudly, as if speaking to himself, or rather, to another self.

Yes, he is not. No matter how similar his appearance, he is not Ferrus.

"He personally forged a weapon for us!"

We also forged a hammer for him.

"You know that in his eyes, this is the deepest bond."

Yes, in his eyes, there was nothing more real than this trust.

He is a true warrior; a warrior always cares most about his weapon. He would not allow just anyone to forge a weapon for him, nor would he casually forge a weapon for anyone.

"He trusts us, he relies on us!" Fulgrim said.

Yes, yes, and aren't we the same?

Ferrus swung the flaming sword, drawing a deadly arc that approached Fulgrim's throat.

Fulgrim dodged, but the flaming sword still left a molten scorch mark on his breastplate.

A good sword strike, but if the real Ferrus were here, your head would have already fallen off.

"This is the sword Ferrus personally forged for us, this bastard—" Fulgrim bit his lip, his violet eyes seeming to turn into burning purple flames.

I really hate you, you little bastard.

"And I truly despise you, you coward."

But I hate this bastard who toys with Ferrus even more; only I can. Only I can toy with Ferrus.

Accept my acceptance.

"Help me kill him." Fulgrim's face gradually became more like a ferocious viper, and his aura changed.

In the Warp, Fulgrim, who was wantonly slaughtering Khorne daemons, suddenly trembled.

A Bloodthirster lunged at him at that moment, its heavy hammer directly smashing into the face of the Slaanesh daemon Primarch.

Fulgrim immediately stiffened his tail and fell to the ground with a clang.

This scene stunned the Bloodthirster, who looked at the heavy hammer in his hand with disbelief.

Fulgrim's face also showed a hint of confusion, not because he was inexplicably hit by a hammer, but because—

It was because he sensed that something more fundamental within him had flowed away, into the clone's body.

It was as if something within him, his subconscious mind, believed that the clone was the real thing, preferring to accept it over his current self.

And all this was because—

His love for Ferrus even made him betray himself.

"Bastard." Annoyance surged from the depths of his heart. His four arms wielded blades, swiftly cutting the Bloodthirster into minced meat.

"I am the true Fulgrim, the Phoenix Lord! How dare you, you fake!"

Fulgrim's face was distorted, but the Lord of Hunger strictly forbade him from coveting the clone's body at this moment.

"Once that one completes his ascension, I will seize your body, devour your existence, and toy with your everything."

Fulgrim, holding the forgebreaker, felt as if his soul was grasping something else.

It was a subtle hunger, not as ugly as greed, not as filthy as gluttony, not as lustful as carnal desire, not as unscrupulous as the lust for power, not as hypocritical as vanity, not as idle as sloth.

It was a craving for perfection, a yearning for absolute perfection, like walking on a delicate tightrope, an absolute perfection without a single deviation or mistake. That craving was Fulgrim.

Fulgrim felt profoundly different at this moment. His body showed no changes, but on a deeper level, he was different.

Fulgrim also understood at this moment why he had never been able to defeat Leman Russ, Sanguinius, or even Guilliman. It was because they were not merely human beings.

They were also the convergence of the thoughts of countless living beings throughout all time and space, a colossal trend. Unless an equally colossal trend, it would be absolutely impossible to stand in their way.

But, but this Ferrus in front of him did not have that.

This Ferrus in front of him was hollow; his body lacked the fiery passion of Medusa and the coldness of the Iron Hands. He was merely a fake with Ferrus' shell.

He could easily defeat him.

Fulgrim's body dodged Ferrus' next sword strike with an infinitely close to perfect posture.

His movements were light, fluid, and everything flowed naturally. He had reached the pinnacle at this moment.

Ferrus thrust his sword again, but it was meaningless. Fulgrim lightly dodged the strike again, turning sharply towards Ferrus, and brought the forgebreaker warhammer down on Ferrus' iron hand.

Ferrus' iron hand vibrated, cracks appearing on it, and the flaming sword instantly flew from his grasp.

Ferrus tried to use the weapon in the backpack behind him to attack Fulgrim, but Fulgrim, at that moment, had already sent the forgebreaker, grabbing the flaming sword in mid-air.

Phoenix-like flames surged from the sword, and its tip plunged directly into Ferrus' throat.

"Wait. Are you going to cut off my head again?" The Ferrus said to Fulgrim in a hoarse voice, "Don't you feel regret?"

But the only response was a slight movement of the blade in Fulgrim's hand. Ferrus' head flew into the air and landed on the ground with a thud.

Fulgrim silently watched the head lying on the ground.

He was actually a little relieved in his heart that Dragon Forest Star knew nothing about Malicious Art.

Such a Ferrus could only ignite the resentment deep within Fulgrim's heart. If it were Alexander, he would undoubtedly come up with a more malicious way, one that could truly break Fulgrim's spirit.

Fulgrim shivered just thinking about it.

Just then, Fulgrim heard a clang from nearby.

His gaze involuntarily turned there, only to see the younger Leman Russ entangled with Zabriel, Thor, and Akurduana.

And at a crucial moment in the entanglement, a Mini-Dora suddenly pulled out an even smaller robot from his pocket.

The robot was round all over, wore sunglasses, and was equipped with a gun in its hand.

Mini-Dora put a small coin into its back, then the robot landed on the ground and raised the gun in its hand towards Leman Russ.

Thump!!!

Leman Russ inexplicably fell to the ground. He tried to get up, but the small robot fired again.

Leman Russ fell to the ground once more, completely failing to understand the situation.

At this moment, Akurduana also charged forward, wielding his twin swords. The Court Phase Blade among them directly pierced Leman Russ' body.

Leman Russ let out a muffled grunt, just about to struggle to his feet, and then—

Thump!!!

The small robot fired again, and Leman Russ uncontrollably fell to the ground once more.

This time, Fulgrim also seized the opportunity, throwing the flaming sword in his hand. It flew true, directly piercing Leman Russ' head.

The younger Leman Russ' head tilted slightly, and he fell to the ground, lifeless.

Fulgrim then picked up the forgebreaker warhammer from the ground and looked at the child's corpse standing before him.

The child's corpse looked at the slain Ferrus and Leman Russ, shaking his head slightly. He gently waved his hand, and the two Primarchs' remains disappeared.

"It seems I still don't quite understand what malice is, what true immorality is."

The child's corpse said with a hint of helplessness:

"Perhaps my creators didn't understand either. They valued morality too much, cared too much about the interests of those tiny races."

"But unfortunately, their benevolence ultimately failed to save the entire universe. Countless races still fell, leaving only barren scorched earth outside of this galaxy, and the new races born on that barren scorched earth are the hungriest, most painful, and most malicious races in the entire universe."

"Indeed, the road to hell is often paved with good intentions."

Saying this, the child's corpse slightly moved aside, indicating that Fulgrim and the others could pass.

Fulgrim understood that this child's corpse was merely a terminal; destroying it was meaningless.

Moreover, this child's corpse always seemed to inadvertently reveal some information to them, as if it enjoyed being a mentor.

Fulgrim's expression remained unchanged as he led the Lion's Sons (Fallen Angels) and the Cursed Emperor's Children behind him through the large door behind the child's corpse.

According to the information shared by Zabriel, beyond this door should be the Grand Library of the former Star Wolves Knight Order.

In the information provided by Alexander, this Grand Library was also the core of the entire Dragon Forest Star. The plagueheart and Tuqiaocha Engine should have been embedded into the ouroboros here.

Logically, Vashtorr should be inside.

Even if he wasn't, it didn't matter. As long as Dragon Forest Star's operation was halted, Vashtorr would be unable to ascend to godhood.

But when Fulgrim pushed open the door—

The room behind the door was empty; there was no sign of Vashtorr.

Only the Tuqiaocha Engine was emitting a scorching light. The spacetime within the entire library began to crack and disintegrate, and the turbulent airflow made it difficult even for Fulgrim to enter.

"What have you done?" Fulgrim turned and questioned the child's corpse.

"Dragon Forest Star will complete its final mission in fifty-five seconds," the child's corpse said indifferently. "It will explode, completely annihilating its existence."

"Tell Leman Russ that I am sorry for betraying him. He and I did share some friendship."

"But we cannot betray the reason we were created even more."

"Run. It's all over."

At this moment, Dragon Forest Star emitted a slight tremor, as if embedded in something invisible to the naked eye.

Vashtorr hovered in the void, watching a rift in spacetime tear open, with brilliant light gushing out from within.

The gate to the Vault of the Old Ones had opened at this moment.

He could sense that the last bit of the Soul Forge domain had also been devoured by Alexander. Alexander would undoubtedly pursue him very soon.

To completely stop him, Vashtorr chose to abandon Dragon Forest Star and everything on it, including Perturabo, whom he considered a friend. Of course, Perturabo was a daemon Prince; although he would suffer considerable damage this time, he would at least not die.

As soon as Vashtorr stepped into the Vault of the Old Ones, Dragon Forest Star would self-destruct, blasting apart the path it had opened and forever sealing the gate to the Vault of the Old Ones.

Even if Alexander caught up, he would be unable to enter the Vault of the Old Ones. And Vashtorr, he had almost abandoned everything, including his domain, his daemon Primarch, and his most powerful weapon.

Even if he completed his ascension using the "weapon," he would likely be extremely weak and unable to leave the Vault of the Old Ones for countless ages. If Alexander performed some maneuvers to cut off the flow of faith to Vashtorr, he might even be able to trap him there until he died.

Vashtorr was probably the first divine being to be imprisoned immediately after his birth.

But Vashtorr believed it was all worth it. The divine position he had pursued for countless years was right before him.

He took a step, entering the Vault of the Old Ones, to meet that weapon.

Soft, flaxen light enveloped Vashtorr. He opened his eyes and surveyed the Vault of the Old Ones.

And then—

He froze.

The Vault of the Old Ones was empty; there was nothing there.

Lion El'Jonson's figure moved like a beast in the forest, swiftly traversing the jungle made of steel.

The outer shell of Dragon Forest Star was Caliban itself; only the dense forest had been replaced by a steel jungle, mountains by flesh factories, and streams by energy pipelines, but the terrain itself remained unchanged.

Lion felt as if he had returned to the cold stream that nurtured him on Dragon Forest Star; every protrusion, every rock, every pebble in the stream was etched in his memory.

He fought Perturabo almost playfully. Perturabo now dared not use large-scale long-range firepower for fear of damaging the half-finished female robot on Lion's shield. He could only drag his massive body, chasing after Lion.

But he was, after all, massive in size and not a Primarch known for speed and reaction time. He couldn't catch up to Lion, let alone keep pace with Lion's reactions. Occasionally, when he found an opportunity to attack, Lion would raise his shield before he could reach him, placing the half-finished female robot in front of himself.

With such repeated back-and-forth, Perturabo's patience grew increasingly thin.

This was precisely the effect Lion sought.

The First Primarch's figure moved, stepping into the gloomy woods and disappearing into the steel jungle.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he appeared beside Perturabo, swinging the shield in his hand and directly charging into Perturabo's body.

Upon seeing this, Perturabo cursed under his breath.

His body was too hard and sturdy; if the half-finished mechanical body of "sister" were to collide with it, it would likely shatter instantly.

Perturabo, almost without hesitation, quickly connected his will to Dragon Forest Star, attempting to use Dragon Forest Star's ability to tear through time and space to complete a transfer.

But...

The moment Perturabo's will connected with Dragon Forest Star, he sensed something was wrong.

The interior of Dragon Forest Star was in utter chaos.

ouroboros, or rather, all of Caliban, was disintegrating and collapsing from within.

plagueheart had self-ignited, spewing terrifying energy in all directions.

The Tuqiaocha Engine glowed brightly, like a star about to explode.

The three divine artifacts of the old ones were all overloaded at this moment, on the verge of bursting.

Perturabo's attempt to mobilize Dragon Forest Star's power also failed.

Within Dragon Forest Star, the will of the three divine artifacts of the old ones was faintly connected to him, but all that was transmitted was a message left by Vashtorr:

"My friend, I owe you much."

"If there is a future day, I will repay it."

"This is not a contract; this is merely a promise I don't know if I can fulfill."

Vashtorr.

Perturabo's extraordinary brain quickly made him realize what Vashtorr intended to do.

He abandoned Dragon Forest Star, abandoned the malicious art domain, abandoned Perturabo, and even most of the power within his body was used to accelerate the operation of Dragon Forest Star.

Vashtorr had almost abandoned everything, entering the Vault of the Old Ones, which was also his own prison, with only a body. To prevent Alexander from entering, he even broke Dragon Forest Star, which served as the key.

So weak, even if he ascended to godhood, he would undoubtedly be imprisoned there for countless years.

"Bastard!"

Perturabo cursed. He couldn't quite explain why he was so angry.

But at this moment, he had no time to think so much; Lion was already charging at him with the shield.

Perturabo spat out a curse, and the layers of steel armor protecting his body began to disintegrate and split, like a steel flower blooming as Lion's shield descended.

Finally, Perturabo's body was exposed to the dry, hot air, exposed before Lion's shield, exposed before the half-finished female robot.

The half-finished female robot's arm involuntarily drooped due to gravity, falling towards Perturabo's body.

Perturabo raised his head, pierced by steel cables, and his eyes, always gloomy and unhappy, looked at the female robot's face.

That face… it was meticulously crafted by Perturabo, identical to the real Kaliphin.

Those hands, one mechanical, one covered with bionic skin, gently cupped Perturabo's face.

Perturabo's outstretched hand, ready to snatch his "sister" back from Lion's shield, suddenly froze.

Those eyes, those beautiful black eyes, suddenly gleamed with life.

"A-Pe."

"You are the smartest fool in the world."

"Have you learned how to love others?"

Kaliphin's lips parted slightly, and she softly spoke to Perturabo.

Perturabo felt dizzy. He seemed to transform back into that knowledgeable youth, that boy born with wisdom, that natural sage, whom everyone called a genius, and everyone yearned to exploit his talents.

Only one person, a woman, a fragile woman who seemingly understood nothing, would gently reach out and caress his cheek, saying to him: "A-Pe, you big fool."

Only she, only she would call him a fool.

At this moment, the shield moved away, and the eyes of the half-finished mechanical woman on the shield instantly lost their luster, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion created by Perturabo.

The sword named Loyalty thrust out from behind the shield, its momentum irresistible, piercing directly into Perturabo's glabella, 貫穿 his brain.

The Iron Lord's mouth opened slightly, uttering a few fragmented words from his throat, and then his body fell. His body, composed of Warp energy, slowly dissipated in mid-air, vanishing without a trace.

The massive metal heavy armor, which he controlled and was aggregated from Warp energy, also disintegrated, turning into a small hill piled with steel.

Lion pulled out his blade. He had actually noticed something strange: why didn't Perturabo use Dragon Forest Star's power to transfer at the last moment?

But Lion's confusion quickly dissipated. Over the comms, Fulgrim's voice sounded, informing Lion that Dragon Forest Star had opened the gates of the Vault of the Old Ones and was about to disintegrate, and they had already evacuated through an anywhere door.

Lion's expression shifted. Although he hadn't fully understood the current situation, he knew he needed to evacuate quickly.

The Lord of the Dark Angels took a small step, and the dense forest suddenly appeared beneath his feet. Lion was about to step into the woods and leave—

But at the last moment, Lion's footsteps halted.

The Lion looked up in surprise, gazing in all directions of Dragon Forest Star.

At this moment, Dragon Forest Star had begun to tremble violently. The ground started to crack, and strange light erupted. The space-time around Dragon Forest Star began to become chaotic due to the disintegration of the three divine artifacts of the old ones.

Dragon Forest Star, or rather, Caliban at different moments, began to appear simultaneously on this planet.

The Lion saw his own drop pod falling to the ground, saw himself living alone in the forest, saw his first encounter with Luther, saw... saw him, upon returning from Terra, furiously slaughtering his own sons, saw the ground torn apart by the artillery fire from his ships.

Lion saw the moment Caliban was destroyed.

But... but Lion also saw things that shouldn't have existed at that time.

He saw some ships, bearing the mark of the Dark Angels, but somewhat different from those of the Great Crusade era. Their livery was not deep black, but a verdant green like a dense forest, and the identification codes of these ships had never existed in the Legion's database.

Those were... those were the ships of the Dark Angels Chapter from humanity's 40th millennium, and also some Black Talon fighters.

How could this be?

How could those ships appear on Caliban?

Even if space-time was in disarray, by the time the Dark Angels Chapter was founded, Caliban had already fallen apart.

Lion's eyes suddenly narrowed.

Back then, when Caliban was destroyed, the Dark Angels forces on Caliban were not just him and Luther.

There were also Dark Angels Chapter from the future.

Lion suddenly remembered Luther always claiming that he did not destroy Caliban, and Lion was also certain that the ammunition he had dropped on Caliban back then was insufficient to tear Caliban apart.

If Luther wasn't lying, then... then...

The Lion gasped.

He wanted to watch a little longer, to clearly see what was happening.

But Dragon Forest Star had already begun to disintegrate, and more and more dazzling Warp light began to envelop the surroundings.

The Lion knew that if he didn't leave now, it would be too late.

His gaze lingered for a moment on those Black Talon fighters belonging to the Dark Angels Chapter.

He was certain that, in his memory, at the moment Caliban fell, these Black Talon fighters had indeed appeared.

From the future, fighters from the Dark Angels.

"I will figure it out." The Lion's face contorted for a moment, then he vanished into the dense forest, disappearing without a trace.

A moment after the Lion departed, a spatial rift simultaneously appeared above Dragon Forest Star, or rather, the past and present Caliban.

The silhouette of the Rock Fortress was faintly visible in the rift, and a voice also sounded.

"Command, this is Azrael. I am sending a signal to all void forces."

"All Black Talon attack craft, all Chapters."

"Centering on Caliban, open fire!!!"

This voice quickly faded into the surging temporal currents of Dragon Forest Star.

Finally, Dragon Forest Star, Caliban, disintegrated in the torrent of time, as it always had.

The gates of the Vault of the Old Ones also slammed shut.

Flaxen light emerged within the Vault. This was a space isolated from the world, where everything seemed frozen. Even the gods, over countless eons, had failed to open this Vault.

Over the past sixty million years, Vashtorr had always yearned to open this Vault, to obtain the "weapon" within, to ascend, to become a god, to use the power of the malicious art domain to comprehend the truth hidden behind the veil of existence.

Now, Vashtorr had succeeded, but when he looked around, surveying the Vault,

He found the Vault empty, with only himself standing within it.

How could this be?

A chaotic turbulence arose in Vashtorr's always rational mind. Many unsubstantiated ideas sprouted in his thoughts.

Did the Old Ones never create a weapon?

Was the "weapon" destroyed by the Old Ones long ago?

Had Alexander already been here before him and taken the weapon?

What had he gained by abandoning everything he had accumulated over sixty million years to come here?

A prison? A prison of endless time?

Despair suddenly began to well up in Vashtorr's heart.

But Vashtorr quickly regained his reason and clarity.

He recalled the information he had obtained from Dragon Forest Star.

The Old Ones must have created the "weapon." The conflicts that erupted within the Black Descent Faction and the Evangelical Faction back then indirectly led to the fall of the Old Ones. If there was no weapon from the beginning, why would the Old Ones engage in civil war?

It was even less possible that it was destroyed. If the "weapon" had already been destroyed, why would the Old Ones still have the Dark Watchers guard Caliban as the key?

As for Alexander arriving in this Vault before Vashtorr,

After entering the Vault, Vashtorr was certain that no other entity had been here.

Before the key opened the door, this space itself could not even be called existent.

Alexander's anywhere door was indeed very powerful, but it still needed coordinates to enter here.

He simply could not have entered before Vashtorr.

Then... then the only possibility was that the "weapon" was in this Vault,

Only Vashtorr hadn't seen it.

No, perhaps it wasn't that he hadn't seen it,

Vashtorr looked around the entire Vault again.

He smiled.

He was certain again.

This Vault was empty except for him.

Then,

That "weapon" was him.

The moment this thought emerged in Vashtorr,

The frozen time around him seemed to suddenly come alive. Things that had been solidified in the Vault for sixty million years, yet were invisible to the naked eye, were released.

First, there was faith.

In the brutal War in Heaven, the Old Ones watched firsthand as their benevolence and morality only brought about more terrible disasters. The dao hearts of some Old Ones shattered, believing that only more terrifying and lethal weapons could bring peace. Gradually, they even forgot their original goal of pursuing peace, leaving only pure weapon worship.

Second, there were sacrifices.

Wails, billions of wails.

Tens of millions of years ago, the wails of the Old Ones and their subordinate races who fell in the War in Heaven under those malicious weapons echoed around Vashtorr.

That pain, those wails, those dead lives were so powerful that they could even rival the pain of an entire galactic Overlord-level civilization's demise. The Warp ripples they stirred crossed tens of millions of years and were released around Vashtorr.

Third, there was the ritual.

Sixty million years of yearning, sixty million years of searching, and the symbolism of creativity by the three divine artifacts of the old ones, and Vashtorr's process of gathering the three divine artifacts of the old ones, were the final ritual.

Vashtorr exhaled.

There had never been a way to bypass the rules of the Warp and ascend directly.

The gods were born in succession; this was inevitable.

And the weapon...

"I am the divinity worshipped by the Black Descent Faction Old Ones."

"My tens of millions of years of yearning were all their presets."

"I am the forge that brought the Dark King into the world."

"With Malicious Art as the hammer, striking at erosion and destruction."

"From beginning to end, that weapon was me."