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

Chapter 579 Fugen: It's quite a blow.

The red angel stared up at the enormous blue metallic rear end suspended in mid-air, while the entire demon froze in place.

This is the boundary between subspace and reality, a space called the repository of consciousness.
In this dimension, will is everything; will is power; will is mass, volume, and density.
Such a massive rear end, such a colossal size, signifies that the entity pressing down upon it possesses an unparalleled will.

Simply by looking up, the Red Angel could feel that powerful will, a will that was silently strengthening the will of everyone present, drawing them into its thoughts.

It was a cold, harsh, cruel, precise, and somewhat numb will, like an absolute order that allowed no room for error, forcefully directing everything within his sight onto the path he had planned.

This will is somewhat like that of the Emperor; whenever the demons gaze upon the cold, deep black sun in the Warp, they feel the Emperor's terrifying will.

But the emperor's will is mixed with countless contingency plans, options, and checks and balances.
But the descending will did not; that descending will left only one path for the galaxy and itself.

Furthermore, that road wasn't conceived from mere imagination; it was forged through countless trials and tribulations over many years, transforming into something stubborn and terrifying.

If that metallic blue figure were to lose control, die, or become a warp entity, his will would likely trigger a terrifying warp storm, crushing the barrier between reality and the warp and giving birth to a terrifying warp entity.

A mournful wail echoed from the veil between reality and the warp, and the blue metallic figure slowly began to move.
His face descended from the heights of the subspace, emerging from the chaotic torrent of the High Heavens.

It was a round, cat-like face, with a scarlet nose more dazzling than a bright star, and oval eyes lowered as it stared at the red angel.

Rafin and the apothecary Melos share a spiritual connection due to the gene seed, while Melos's body is possessed by the Red Angel, and their wills are also intertwined.

Zhou Yun directly used the Dream Ladder, entering the Red Angel's will through Rafin's dream.
The Red Angel's will was almost no match for Zhou Yun's; ultimately, he was merely a demon born ten thousand years ago, a tool created by the Blood God to control the rage of the Son of Saint Gilles.
Compared to the willpower Zhou Yun had accumulated through 22,000 dreams and countless attempts over tens of millions of years, his willpower was utterly insignificant.
Not to mention Zhou Yun's devout faith among countless humans in the galaxy; faith is also a kind of will that gathers around Zhou Yun.
In the subspace, will is largely everything; this will can even transcend the limitations of spacetime and causality.
This is partly why Zhou Yun possessed a rather large subspace essence even when he was still a junk collector in Asford.

Faced with Zhou Yun's will, the Red Angel was instantly crushed into a dazed state before he could even muster the will to resist.

Zhou Yun slowly extended a helping hand to the Red Angel, who then barely snapped out of her daze.

He let out a terrified howl, a sharp, piercing roar, instinctively trying to flee.

But where can he escape to?

This is where his will resides. He could enter his physical body, but this path is blocked by the remnants of Melos's will. Before he can break through Melos's blockade, Zhou Yun's round hand will seize him and refine him instantly.

He could enter Rafin's will and possess Rafin's body, but Zhou Yun was currently entrenched in Rafin's dream, which was tantamount to courting death.
He could also try to seize Saint Gilles' body, but that would be suicide.

With nowhere to run, the Red Angel cowered in a corner of his own will. Zhou Yun reached out his round hand towards him.

Almost instantly upon contact, the Red Angel's body, existence, and will, sculpted by Khorne, crumbled under the impact of Zhou Yun's will. Layer by layer, everything about him was stripped away, revealing the most primal and chaotic underspace rage.

That was the crimson rage of the Sons of Sanguielles, unlike the black rage. It was a rage born of hunger, born of ghouls, born of their mutant identity, and ultimately reflected in the warp.
A crimson storm swirled in Zhou Yun's round hand. A Blood Angel would likely be completely consumed by its fury, and even a Primarch like Saint Gilles would be affected.

However, this storm barely stirred any emotion in Zhou Yun's heart.
He had experienced too many similar things, and apart from a very few events, there were few things or events in the galaxy that could truly evoke strong emotions in him.

So he casually tossed the crimson storm toward Saint Gillespie, then climbed the Dream Ladder back to reality.

Saint Gilles used his own body to bear the weight of millennia of rage fueled by thirst for blood. A fleeting rage crossed his face, but ultimately his gaze became slightly complex as he glanced in the direction Zhou Yun had left.
Finally, Saint Gilles shook his head and gently flew towards his offspring, the apothecary Melos.

"My son."

Saint Gilles' voice was clear and gentle, landing softly on Melos's almost collapsing soul:
"You've carried too much on my shoulders."

As he spoke, Saint Gilles gently extended his hand to Melos, and a golden-red glow enveloped Melos.

On the back of this apothecary who had persisted for ten thousand years, a pair of pure white wings slowly grew, almost exactly like those of Saint Gilles.
The red angel's body suddenly exploded in mid-air, its blood, bones, and flesh turning to ashes and scattering everywhere. The scorching fire also went out, turning into faint specks of light that dissipated into the air.

Fugen felt his mouth was filled with the taste of ash, sulfur, and blood, and he wanted to spit to clear away the taste.
However, my throat felt dry, completely parched.

His skin was scorched and withered, and his face, exposed to the air, bore some ugly burn marks. His once silver hair was also singed black.
Fugen staggered forward a step or two, then his steps regained their elegance.
He took a couple of breaths, and saliva began to secrete from his throat again. His charred black hair fell out inch by inch, and silver hair, as white as a snowy field under the moon, grew out in the blink of an eye. The burn marks also healed completely in a moment. His thin, slender, and handsome face returned, and a playful smile reappeared on his thin lips. His withered skin also became white with a pinkish tinge, like that of a young girl or a newborn baby.

Compared to Fugan's relaxed and carefree demeanor, Abaddon's performance was far less impressive.
The Red Angel was closer to him and didn't inform Abaddon beforehand when performing the ritual. Almost all of its materialized rage was directed at Abaddon.

Abaddon's shriveled body stood frozen in place, his dark Terminator power armor becoming even blacker from the smoke and flames.

Because Fugen had damaged Abaddon's Iron Aura during the previous battle, the flames shot directly into his unprotected face.

Even the Blood Angels' pent-up rage of ten thousand years couldn't burn through Abaddon's skin; it only burned off a layer of flesh, tanning the muscles in his face until it was as black as his power armor.
Abaddon slowly opened his mouth, exhaling a cloud of black mist. His parched mouth seemed to be nibbling at the air, as if trying to steal moisture from it.

The black-clad warrior stiffly took a step forward. His spiky ponytail, already burned to a point of extreme fragility, turned to ashes and vanished with each step.

But Abaddon's steps did not stop there. He took another step forward, then a second, a third, and a fourth. His stride gradually became steady and powerful, transforming from walking to running, and from running to charging.

He raised the Delanicorn sword in his hand in an almost frenzied manner. The demonic sword seemed completely unaffected by the flames, still shining with a deep blue light.

Fu Gen's expression suddenly tightened.
The fact that Abaddon still possessed fighting ability was indeed somewhat unexpected for Fugen.

Indeed, we should not underestimate the heroes of the galaxy today; Abaddon had his reasons for being able to roam the galaxy for millennia.

With this thought in mind, Fugen prepared himself for battle, raised the Brokensmith's Warhammer in his hand, and stepped forward to meet Abaddon.

“…Loken?” Abaddon murmured softly. Only then did Fugen realize that Abaddon’s expression was blank and confused, his eyes wandering and not at all fixed on Fugen.
He seemed to be delirious, and a scene of ruins appeared before his eyes, with himself, Horus the Younger, Togaton, and Loken on the ruins—their decisive battle on the Istvan III.

“Loken.” Abaddon’s voice rose a little, and he took a sudden step forward, then stomped on a protruding pebble.
The rubble, unable to support Abaddon's weight, suddenly crumbled and disintegrated, causing Abaddon to lose his balance and fall to the ground with a thud.

Abaddon stared blankly with his mouth wide open, letting out a few weak, low moans.

The creative power of the Creator Vashtor had run its course, and Abaddon's body returned to its weak and powerless state.

Fugen slowly raised the Broken Furnace in his hand.

"You actually intend to take advantage of someone in distress?" Abaddon gritted his teeth and said weakly, "Is this your nobility, your perfection?"

Hearing Abaddon's words, a slight, disdainful smile appeared on Fugen's lips:
"You're just an imperfect traitor, a degenerate fool. How dare you define what perfection is?"

"Only I, the one who will eventually become perfect, am worthy of defining perfection."

"If I think it's perfect, then it's perfect."

Without hesitation, Fugen raised the Broken Furnace in his hand and swung it heavily at Abaddon's face.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Abaddon let out a shrill scream.

Fu Gen clicked his tongue in surprise as he felt the slight numbness in his tiger's mouth.
"Such a thick skin! Take another hit from me!"

(End of this chapter)