I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 545 Our Space Necromancer Empire
*Pfft* *Smack*

Profane and obscene sounds rang out, and intense stimulation erupted from Fugrim's cloaca.

Fugrim was immersed in a hazy mix of sadness, anger, and joy when this sudden shock shot straight to his brain, causing him to let out a piercing scream, his eyes rolled back, and his forked tongue protruded from his mouth, the tongue nail trembling in mid-air.

The old woman's sword, still attached to her skin and slime, was pulled out and held in Koz's hand.

Koz gave Forgrim a deep look, then vanished into the shadows in an instant, disappearing without a trace, his whereabouts unknown.

"Conrad!!!" Fogrem twisted his body in anger.

But he quickly lost his temper.
He felt a cold gaze cast down from the void.

The gaze of the god of thirst swept over Fugrim.

He entrusted the old woman's sword to Forgrim for protection, but Forgrim lost it.
This gave the God of Thirst a punitive look in his eyes.

Fugrim immediately huddled on the velvet bed, trembling slightly.

The Lord of Thirst's anger is fleeting.
The old woman's sword was no longer as important as it used to be.
After all, Inard had already been devoured by Zhou Yun.
The only danger is that Zhou Yun has not yet become a god and has not completely crushed Inad.

If something unexpected happens to Zhou Yun, and the five swords of the old woman are gathered, the Spirit Race's God of Death might still have a chance to be born.
However, one of the old woman's swords was already stuck in the Blood God's thigh, fused with the wound on his body.
If the old woman's sword were drawn, the Blood God's power would actually weaken, so the Blood God would protect the old woman's sword from being stolen.

Therefore, the theft of the old woman's sword from Slaanesh's hands is not actually important.

Moreover, Slaanesh has no way to launch any substantial retaliation against Zhou Yun. If something were to happen to Zhou Yun, or if Zhou Yun were pushed too far and Inard were to be resurrected, Slaanesh would be the one to suffer. What's more, for some reason, Nurgle seems to regard Zhou Yun as a staunch ally.

What Slaanesh cared more about was the pure self that Forgrim perceived.
His thirsty Lord has always lacked a suitable chosen one.
Tzeentch's Ahriman needs no introduction; he's the master of the Scarlet Letter network, one of the top wizards and psionicists in the galaxy.
Khorne's Kahn, though gone now, was once the second-in-command of the World Eater Legion.
While Nurgle's Typhons may not be as powerful as Ahriman and Cain, he is at least the true commander of the Death Guard.
As for her own Lucius, well, he's always fallen short. Even though his main ability, constantly resurrecting people, was given to him by Slaanesh.
Although Lucius is not quite dead yet, Slaanesh already wants to abandon him.
What He now covets is that phoenix that has not yet fallen; He longs to devour it right now.

Slaanesh's will was then passed on to Forgrim.
The emotions in Fugrim's heart gradually subsided, leaving only one that remained.
That's jealousy.
I envy that replica of him, envious of that replica's continued purity and pride, envious of his whiteness and beauty, envious of his nobility.
He must defile that replica.
Within the ancient hall forged from black stone, only a faint green light flickered, while the emperors from different dynasties remained hidden in the darkness.

The Silent King issued a decree, and all the Dharma Emperors gathered together. Some of the overlords were also invited to form the Council of Venerables according to the Silent King's will. They would advise the Silent King and discuss with him the fate of the Galactic Empire and the Necromancer Empire.
However, the long passage of time has caused irreparable damage to the will and memories of many space undead; even among the Emperors and Overlords, many have suffered harm.

Many of them were delirious and gathered together, beginning to ramble incoherently.

"Your Majesty the Silent King! I believe that our first priority now is to address the irreversible damage that millions of years of slumber have caused to our memory modules."

"The second priority is to build a defense line strong enough to withstand the Ancient Saints. I believe we should learn from their strengths to counter them. We can learn psionic powers—" "Madman, are you asleep? The Ancient Saints are all dead!"

"That's right, that's right! Our primary enemy is clearly the rising Eldar!"

"I think we should continue sleeping for another 60 million years and outlive that human empire."

"A bunch of idiots, why don't we go skin some more? As long as we have enough flesh and blood on our bodies, we can regain our flesh and blood forms!"

"Damn it! Who let this skinner in?! What are the Trinity Guard doing?"

"Please address me by my given name!! Does anyone know where that thief Tarasin is?!"

The entire hall was in chaos, with disorder and confusion spreading among the metal skeletons.

“My guardian Obi-Long, look at how our Fear of the Dead has been split into this state! No one cares about the old etiquette anymore, there aren’t even any food connoisseurs at the banquet!” In a dark corner of the hall, the undead overlord, the Crowned Zandrek, lamented, pointing to the food in front of him.

Of course, all of this food was a figment of his imagination. This renowned old general still believed that he was living in the age of the Dead, facing a divided empire, where orcs, elves, and humans were all members of the Dead who had broken away.
His guard, Obi-Long, remained silent, having grown somewhat accustomed to the old general's rambling.
He was simply tolerating the old man out of loyalty and friendship.

“Look, even at the meeting ordered by the Silent King, many people didn’t come.”

"Why isn't that famous Peerless Bone Salaka here? Why isn't that emperor of the empire here? Why isn't that regent Guilliman here? And why isn't that Black Warmaster Abaddon here either? Have they, as members of the Fear of the Dead, forgotten their loyalty to the Silent King?"

Zandreik, the crowned man, kept rambling on and on. Obi-Long, somewhat annoyed, turned his head away, unaware of the glint in Zandreik's eyes.

Zandreuk glanced silently at the Silent King.
The Silent King stood on the high platform belonging to the Three Holy Council, but he remained silent. This was a tradition of the Three Holy Council, and also the meaning behind the name Silent King.
The Silent King remained silent, while the other two members of the Triune Council, the Dharma Emperors, announced the decree. This was intended to check the Silent King's power. However, in Zandreik's view, the two Dharma Emperors who spoke on his behalf were now nothing more than puppets of the Silent King.

“Your Majesty, do you understand now? The galaxy is just as it was before, still full of rebellion, division, and liars.” Zandreuk sighed softly and murmured.

The Silent King, seated on his throne, stared intently at the arguing vicars before him, and couldn't help but clench his steel fists.

"A bunch of insects! Is there not a single person capable in the Necropolis now?!"

"How did our Necromancer Empire in space become like this?"

(End of this chapter)