[When those nauseating images, filled with decay and stagnation, finally faded from the screen...]
[Before anyone could catch their breath from that viscous despair, a completely different aura, scorching enough to sear the soul, erupted without warning!]
[It was not the Nurgle-style chronic Death, like a frog in slowly boiling water, but a direct and violent volcanic eruption! A wild roar from the Universe itself, filled with endless rage!]
[If Nurgle represents the inevitable end of all things—decay...]
[Then the one you are about to see represents the most magnificent, bloodiest, and most... 'honest' struggle of life before it reaches its end.]
[He is the Lord of War, the collector of blood and skulls, the most primal and pure incarnation of rage that lurks in the hearts of every warrior in the Universe.]
[He is Khorne.]
On the screen, the image transformed into a boiling sea of blood. In the center of that sea, a magnificent mountain range made of countless piled-up skulls rose into the clouds.
At the peak of the mountain range, a giant throne forged from brass stood tall. Seated upon the throne was a terrifying, armored figure so massive it defied description in mortal tongues.
Every breath of that figure caused towering waves to surge in the sea of blood;
Every heartbeat turned into the sound of war drums echoing throughout the entire dimension.
[Khorne is the oldest, and perhaps the most powerful, of the Four Chaos Gods.]
[His domain is not trickery or magic, but the purest physical violence.]
[He represents war, slaughter, rage, and hatred, but also symbolizes a warrior's honor, undaunted courage, and the instinct to survive in desperate situations.]
[Khorne loathes sorcery, viewing it as a coward's trick.]
[His followers never use schemes or deceit; their only creed is to engage the enemy in the fairest and bloodiest duel in broad daylight with axe and sword in hand.]
[In the eyes of this Blood God, victory or defeat does not matter, loyalty or betrayal is irrelevant, and even the reason for the fight is of no consequence.]
[The only thing that matters is one thing—]
['Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows, only that it flows!']
[Whether it is yours or your enemy's. Whether it is a noble sacrifice or a despicable massacre.]
[Every drop of blood spilled, every kill made, adds another brick to His endless power.]
[Every end of a battle, every fall of a mighty one, their skull will become a new collection on His Skull Throne.]
[He is the God of Warriors and the Lord of Butchers.]
[He is the incarnation of honor and the source of fury.]
[He does not grant His followers schemes or magic; He grants only one thing—power.]
[Pure, endless power capable of tearing reality apart. And an unquenchable rage... capable of burning the entire Milky Way Galaxy.]
When this cold, cruel introduction ended, a completely different storm of thought swept through the viewing rooms across various dimensions.
Super God Universe
"Ha! This is more like it!"
Morgana abandoned her previous disdain for Nurgle, an excited smile appearing on her face.
She looked appreciatively at the mountain of skulls on the screen and took a deep drag of her cigar.
"See that? This is a real god! No nonsense! He doesn't give you any of that 'compassion' bullshit—just fighting! Just doing it! Slaughter, rage, hatred! How fucking honest is that!"
She pointed at the screen and said to Ato, "Compared to that gutter god Nurgle, this Khorne is practically a straightforward gentleman!"
"He writes his desires and goals clearly on his face: I just want to see you fight, and the more brutal, the better!"
"Though... it's a bit monotonous."
Morgana curled her lip.
"Aside from fighting and beheading, there's no sense of art at all. Compared to my philosophy of Fallen Freedom, it's still too low-level."
"But this 'I'm just pissed off, so I'm flipping the table' vibe? I like it! Isn't this ten thousand times better than that bitch Keisha's hypocritical justice?"
[Angel Nebula · Merlo Heavens]
"The ultimate in barbarism."
Holy Keisha's evaluation remained concise, but the disgust in her tone was a hundred times deeper than when she faced Nurgle.
"If Nurgle is a pollution of life forms, then this Khorne is a total negation of civilization itself."
"It devalues all higher behaviors of intelligent life—strategy, diplomacy, compromise, construction—as 'coward's tricks,' promoting only the most primitive and low-level physical conflict."
Hexi analyzed calmly:
"Based on existing data, this 'Khorne's' logic is very simple; it takes 'violent conflict' itself as the end, rather than a means to achieve a goal."
"This means that for him, war is never a means, but the objective."
"Its existence would lead an entire civilization to regress to a primitive tribal era of fighting for the sake of fighting."
"Any effort to establish a stable Order is a sign of 'weakness' in its eyes and will become its primary target for attack."
"This is simply... nonsensical." Angel Yan gripped her Flame Sword, her beautiful face full of anger and confusion.
"A warrior's honor should be for the sake of protection, for the sake of justice!"
"But this evil god equates 'honor' with 'slaughter'! It defiles the word 'warrior'!"
Keisha slowly shook her head, delivering the final judgment: "A Universe that takes destruction as a faith and rage as divinity has no right to be called a 'civilization'."
"It is merely an eternal, meaningless arena built upon skulls."
"Every second of its existence is the most malicious mockery of Order and peace."
Marvel Universe
Thunder God Thor was the first to stand up. His eyes, which always flickered with lightning, were now filled with shock, anger, and a hint of... offended horror.
"This... this is the most malicious desecration of Valhalla!"
He roared, mjolnir letting out an uneasy hum in his hand.
"We Asgardians fight for glory! We find value in battle and earn respect in victory! The souls of warriors who die on the battlefield enter Valhalla to enjoy eternal feasting and glory!"
"And this thing... this monster that stole the name of 'God of War'!"
"It conflates glory with slaughter! It uses the heads of warriors as decorations for its seat!"
"It does not respect victory, nor does it care about defeat; it only cares about the bloodshed itself! This is no God of Warriors; this is a butcher of the Universe!"
Thor's rage almost materialized into actual lightning, because Khorne's actions completely overturned everything he knew as a 'God of War'.
"Calm down, Thor." Rogers' voice was low and powerful, but his expression was equally solemn.
"I've been on the battlefield; I know the cruelty of war. But we fight to end wars, to protect the people and homes behind us. Every time we fire, it's so that next time we won't have to."
The WWII veteran looked at the screen, his eyes reflecting a total rejection of such a concept.
"But this 'Khorne,' its reason for being is to make war last forever."
"It takes war itself as the objective. This means that in the eyes of its followers, there are no civilians, no non-combatants, no such thing as 'peace'. Everything is merely an offering for their god."
"This is no longer war. This is... an anti-human, eternal ritual of sacrifice."
"I... I need to step out for a moment."
Hellsing World
On the cold bridge of a Zeppelin shrouded in night and the fires of war, the atmosphere was completely different.
There was no sympathy here, no condemnation.
Only a nearly holy, shivering ecstasy born from glimpsing the ultimate truth.
"...Ha... Hahahaha..."
A suppressed laugh, as if squeezed from an old organ, broke the clockwork-precise silence on the bridge.
The Major, that monster who always wore a child-like innocent smile while his body was composed of cold gears and circuits, stood before the giant viewing screen.
His eyes, usually hidden behind thick lenses, were now wide open, reflecting the dark void on the screen, as if he saw in that void the most perfect artwork he had pursued all his life.
"Mag... nificent... Simply magnificent..."
He whispered in a nearly chanting tone filled with endless intoxication, his voice trembling slightly with extreme excitement.
He slowly spread his white-gloved hands like a conductor welcoming the grandest symphony about to play in his mind.
"Dr., do you see it? Captain, do you feel it?"
He didn't look back, but his voice was filled with an unquestionable command to share this ecstasy with everyone present.
"This... this is the ultimate form of 'war' that I have dreamed of, that I have pursued all my life!"
His voice suddenly rose, filled with the pure joy of a child opening a Christmas present.
"We... how small we are, how... narrow-minded!"
He pointed at the screen as if pointing to a brand-new promised land full of infinite possibilities.
"I once thought my war was the ultimate."
"I assembled the last Millennium Battalion, I created an immortal Legion of Ghouls, and with endless Death and destruction, I presented a half-century-long, most magnificent duel to London and to my most beloved nemesis—Alucard!"
"I was once proud of that!"
"I thought that was the peak of war!"
"To burn down the entire World for one person, for a pure will to defeat a nemesis! How romantic, how grand!"
The smile that always hung on The Major's face became, for the first time, no longer a disguise, but a fanatical obsession coming from the depths of his soul.
"But I was wrong... How incredibly wrong I was!"
He turned abruptly, and that face, which always appeared bloated and ridiculous, now radiated a holy brilliance.
"Everything we have done, compared to them, is nothing more than children building castles on a beach!"
"It's a crude imitation! A... trivial, self-indulgent game of house!"
Dr. stood behind him, the light of rationality flickering behind his lenses as he calmly added:
"The Major, according to data analysis, the political entity known as the 'Imperium of Man' indeed has a scale and military power far beyond our imagination."
"Their wars are carried out on the scale of star systems."
"No! No! It's not just the scale!" The Major waved his arms excitedly, like an artist who had finally found a kindred spirit.
"It's the 'purity'! It's the... 'divinity' of war itself!"
His gaze swept over the silent Captain beside him, over every SS soldier loyal to him, preaching in a sermon-like, infectious voice:
"Do you see? In that Universe, there is no right or wrong, no good or evil, not even... victory!"
"The loyal are betraying, and the betrayers are seeking redemption! Heroes are falling into depravity, while madmen preach justice!"
"Fathers are exploiting sons, and sons are hating fathers! Every single one of them is driven by their own 'reasons,' each firmly believing they are right, and each using the most cruel methods to prove the other wrong!"
"This is war! This is the perfect war!"
"An eternal meat grinder where everyone is trapped, everyone is deeply mired, biting and destroying one another for their own pathetic, self-righteous 'justice'!"
He closed his eyes in intoxication, as if savoring the finest, most mellow wine.
"And those gods... oh, those gods! They have elevated this war to the ultimate peak of art!"
"A 'Father' representing decay and despair, who interprets 'love' through plague and eternal torture! How malevolent! What a wonderful irony!"
"And another... a Blood God representing rage and slaughter!"
"Oh, Khorne! Khorne!"
When The Major spoke that name, his voice was filled with uncontrollable admiration and reverence.
"'Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows, only that it flows!' Listen! Listen to this declaration! It is simply... the most honest, most beautiful poem in the Universe!"
"Is this not my very creed?! I love war! I love the roar of artillery, the splatter of flesh and blood, and the screams of despair!"
"I don't care who dies, who lives, who wins, or who loses! I only care about the drama named 'War' itself—whether it is grand enough, spectacular enough!"
"And Khorne! He has turned my philosophy, my art, my entire pursuit into a universal axiom! A sacred law!"
The Major's breathing became rapid, and his body trembled slightly with excitement.
"I never believed in gods, because I thought gods were products of human weakness."
"But today, I was wrong."
"In this Universe, gods are not meant for worship; gods are meant for 'appreciation'!"
"They are the incarnations of the Universe's most extreme emotions, the directors and audience of this grand war!"
"And we... all the living beings fighting on the battlefield, are merely humble actors offering a performance to please them!"
"This is... this is the true Heaven!"
He spread his arms and roared toward the sky, his laughter filled with a martyr-like ecstasy of having found his ultimate destination.
"War! Eternal war! No reason! No end!"
"The purest war, existing only for the sake of war itself!"
"A grand opera where mortals and gods dance together, using the entire Milky Way Galaxy as a stage, and the blood and wails of billions of souls as the soundtrack!"
"Alucard... my dear Alucard..."
The Major's voice dropped, filled with endless regret and a new, even more frenzied longing.
"The Night in London I prepared for you is so... impoverished compared to this."
"I truly wish... I truly wish I could take you to see it, to see that Universe that holds war itself as a faith. Perhaps there, we could have a truly 'equal,' never-ending war."
On the bridge of the Zeppelin, all members of the Millennium Battalion fell into silence.
They looked at their leader, lost in ecstasy, and for the first time within his madness, they sensed a nearly 'sacred,' purest love for war.
Vastly different from the atmosphere of morbid aesthetics and war frenzy of the Millennium Battalion, in the depths of London at Hellsing Headquarters, the atmosphere was as heavy as a tomb.
Integra, the iron-fisted head of the Hellsing Organization, sat quietly in her command seat. The cigar between her fingers had long since burned out, turning into a cold length of ash, but she was completely oblivious.
Her eyes, usually as sharp as ice-blue flames, were now as deep as an abyss, reflecting the mad and tragic figures on the screen.
"Threat level... immeasurable."
After a long while, she spoke her final judgment as a Commander in an almost inaudible, raspy voice.
"We have always faced threats that could be defined and understood."
"Vampires, Ghouls, fanatical Crusaders... they all have weaknesses, motives, and a logic that can be exploited."
She looked toward the shadows of the room, at the dark silhouette sitting casually on its throne.
"Even Alucard is bound by the rules of life and Death, bound by his identity as a 'monster.' We use monsters to fight monsters; that is our creed."
"But..."
Integra's brow furrowed tightly. A feeling she had never experienced before, called 'powerlessness,' eroded her iron will for the first time.
"The 'monsters' in this Universe... they are different."
"Nurgle twists the very concept of life into decay and pain."
"How do you 'kill' an enemy who views Death as rebirth? Every attack you make is merely fertilizing his garden."
"Khorne turns the very desire for combat into a deity. The more bravely you fight, the stronger it becomes. Your rage is an offering to it."
"And those... those demigods called 'Primarchs.' They possess power beyond our imagination, yet are enslaved by their own emotions, faiths, and traumas. They are their own strongest enemies and their own most perfect prisoners."
For the first time, a hint of confusion entered Integra's voice.
"How are we supposed to fight a Universe where even the definition of 'victory' has been overturned? How do we fight enemies who view self-destruction as 'justice'?"
"It's simple, my Master."
A voice with a lazy smile, seemingly woven from the whispers of countless vengeful spirits, echoed from the shadows.
Alucard, the oldest Vampire, was resting his legs on the table in front of him in an extremely unrefined posture.
His eyes, always burning with blood-red light, watched the screen with great interest, as if enjoying a play that was crude but sufficiently long and bloody to pass the time.
"You can't fight it. Because that is 'real' war."
"What did you say?"
Integra's gaze instantly sharpened.
Alucard let out a low, rolling laugh in his throat.
"I kill because I am thirsty. I fight because I am bored."
"I exist because I have long forgotten how to die. I am a monster, a pure, unadulterated monster driven by desire and curses."
He slowly sat up straight, his crimson cloak spreading out like flowing blood.
"But they..."
Alucard pointed at the screen, and for the first time, a twisted expression resembling 'respect' appeared on his handsome yet inhuman face.
"They are different. Especially... those humans."
"That Sevatar, who dared to swing his blade at an entire Legion for a little girl he didn't even know, only to calmly choose 'surrender' in the end."
"And those... those mortals in the desperate trenches, shouting the name of an 'Emperor' who can no longer answer them, using their bodies of flesh and blood to block the flood of demons."
In Alucard's eyes, that pure blood-red light belonging to a monster actually dimmed slightly, replaced by a stinging sensation he himself found unfamiliar, as if staring at the Sun.
"They aren't doing it for desire, or for immortality, or even for victory."
"They are simply using their Deaths to defend a tattered lie called 'hope'."
"They are not monsters, my Master." Alucard's voice became low, filled with unprecedented solemnity.
"They are... 'humans.' The kind of true 'human' that I have spent five hundred years failing to become again."
"They have shown me something more powerful than my immortality, purer than The Major's war, and more worthy of awe than all the tricks of gods and demons—the human will."
"A will that can still burn amidst the deepest despair that has lasted ten thousand years."
"It is truly... so beautiful. So beautiful... it makes me feel sick."
He let out another burst of wild laughter, but this laughter was filled with endless loneliness and self-loathing.
Meanwhile, in the distant Vatican, in a secret room lit by Bibles and candlelight.
Father Alexander Anderson, the Paladin from the Iscariot Organization, was kneeling on both knees, clutching the cross at his chest, his entire body trembling violently from extreme excitement.
On the screen, the grand Imperial warships, the ubiquitous Aquila emblems, the Battle Sisters still singing hymns amidst the fires of war, the Inquisitors purifying heretics in the Emperor's name... all of it was like a most holy apocalypse unfolding before his eyes.
"A...men..."
His voice was raspy and filled with tears. He was not praying; he was witnessing.
"I see it... I see it! Lord! You have finally shown your humble servant what the Kingdom of Heaven on earth should look like!"
He stood up abruptly, drawing countless blessed bayonets gleaming with cold light from behind him, slamming them into the ground before him to form the shape of a cross.
"An empire established in God's name! A nation where every citizen is a soldier, using faith as a weapon and fire to purify heretics! This is... this is how humanity should be!"
"They have no confusion! No compromise! They use the purest conviction to fight the deepest darkness!"
"Their Emperor is their God! Their laws are God's will! Their war is an... unceasing, holy crusade!"
Anderson spread his arms and roared to the heavens, his voice filled with the ecstasy of finding ultimate faith and the hatred of his own insignificance.
"How... weak we are! We are still engaged in small-scale, ridiculous street battles with Vampires and pagans!"
"While our brothers, our brothers in another Universe, are fighting a... galaxy-spanning holy war against true demons from hell for their God-Emperor!"
He grabbed a bayonet, a martyr's fire burning in his eyes.
"Lord! Please grant me strength! Please let me cross this dimensional barrier!"
"I am willing to become the humblest member of your sacred Legion! To burn the heretics! To purify the demons! To nail those... those Chaos who dare to profane the name of God, onto the cross!"
"Amen! Amen! Amen!"
Amidst the frenzied prayers, this agent of God found, for the first time, an ultimate goal grander and more desirable to him than killing Alucard.