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

Chapter 647 Ee! Doraemon, I did it!
In the subspace, waves surged and crashed, with the faint sounds of countless machines roaring, steam billowing, electric sparks flowing, and nuclear energy howling.

Waves surged within the realm of malevolent arts, and amidst these rises and falls, Zhou Yun's figure transformed into countless indistinct figures, occupying two-thirds of the realm of malevolent arts.

That two-thirds of the domain is Zhou Yun, and Zhou Yun is two-thirds of the domain of vicious techniques. They are so inseparable and difficult to separate.

The gods cast their gaze upon this.
Slaanesh let out a lewd and lustful laugh. At this moment, Inard's traces had been mostly eliminated in the warp. As long as Zhou Yun took those two more steps: offering a sacrifice to the Vicious Art and swallowing Vashtor, He could complete His Ascension. He had existed every moment of the past and present, completely suppressing the possibility of the Necromancer's Death God Inard being born.

The loving father smiled with joy. He knew better than Slaanesh what Zhou Yun was pursuing. The eternal years had only taken the first step. The unchanging time had not yet begun to be born, but taking the first step was like planting a seed, which was always joyful and satisfying.

Tzeentch silently put down the dumbbells in his hands. "This was all part of my plan, of course," the Master of Changes said with a cacophony.

The Blood God let out a fierce roar. He had long been fed up with Tzeentch's series of boring schemes. Those conspiracies and tricks brought nothing. Zhou Yun's journey to godhood was exactly what He wanted. A bloody battle was about to begin!

Boundless changes surged through the subspace, reflecting in the real universe. Rebellions and coups erupted on 99,999 planets, countless lies were born, and countless lies were revealed. This wave of change rushed towards the solar system, heading towards Mars.

A tide of blood was also rolling, and blood-soaked wars began to break out in the highest heavens. In reality, wars also broke out on 88,888 planets. These wars converged and turned into a scarlet scar, tearing apart the stars and surging towards Mars.

The two deities in the subspace unleashed their boundless divine power, determined to utterly destroy Zhou Yun's physical body in the material universe.
Click. Click.
The sound of dust being shaken off echoed across the golden throne, and the royal guards protecting it turned in disbelief to look at the desiccated corpse atop it.
The mummified corpse slowly raised its withered hand, so dry that almost no flesh was visible, and a hallucination suddenly arose in the eyes of the Imperial Guards.

They seemed to see flesh and blood growing from the mummified corpse on the throne, its skin no longer shriveled, and a powerful life force bursting forth from its body.

Now, sitting atop the golden throne, it no longer seems to be a withered corpse, but a monarch clad in dazzling golden power armor, with long black hair and a majestic brown face.
The monarch's eyes gleamed with fighting spirit, hope, and light as he gazed at the stars, his raised hand pointing slightly towards the boundless Milky Way, as if he were about to launch a great expedition towards the stars.

Onboard the Glory of Macragge, Guilliman, who was secretly compiling the Imperial Codex while Zhou Yun, Saint Gilles, and Ryan were away, seemed to sense something amiss.
He raised his head and looked at the Emperor's Sword beside him.

The sword that was once wielded by the emperor and ravaged countless alien empires in the starry sea ignited, roared, and even slowly flew into the air without anyone controlling it, as if an invisible hand was tightly gripping it.

Bang! ! ! !

A sonic boom erupted instantly, and the sword shot out at a speed that even Guilliman couldn't see, instantly tearing through the wall of the office Guilliman had just repaired, ripping apart the sturdy walls of the Macragge's Glory, and flying into the boundless void.
Guilliman stared blankly at the crack in his office wall that stretched straight into the vacuum. The air in the office was rapidly dissipating, creating a gust of wind that perfectly swept up the "Imperial Codex" that Guilliman had just finished writing, sending it flying into the boundless void.

Then, Guilliman suddenly woke up and hurriedly rushed to the helmet next to him and put it on.

The Emperor's Sword tore through reality and fell into the hands of the figure on the throne, who seemed like a desiccated corpse yet also a majestic monarch, pointing towards the boundless changes and scarlet scars surging towards the solar system.

Hundreds of millions of imperial followers knelt in chapels throughout Terra, surrounded by boundless darkness, with only a single, unlit candle before them.

They bowed their heads and uttered the same prayer in different voices.

"Worship the God-Emperor, who will protect all my people."

"Praise the divine emperor, dedicate yourself to the people."

"To elevate the divine emperor and enlighten all people."

"Reverence the divine emperor, and protect all people."

"Glorious God-Emperor, mighty people."

"Praise the Divine Emperor, who will forever watch over all people."

"Honoring the Divine Emperor, who rules over all people."

"Hail the Divine Emperor, who reigns over all people!"

"Worship the Divine Emperor, but there is neither Him nor myself!"

"The God-Emperor is humanity, and humanity is the God-Emperor. We gather here, we yearn for, we sing praises to the immortal God-Emperor, and we extol the King of Eternal Ages."

The sounds of prayer converged like a tidal wave, and the candles before them flickered without flame, casting a faint orange-yellow glow that barely illuminated the darkness around them.
But these faint lights, when gathered together, transformed into a golden wave of light that enveloped the entirety of Terra.
In the flickering candlelight, a figure emerged, a figure larger than a star, standing atop the solar system, its eyes burning with the intensity of a celestial being.
"Immortal God-Emperor, we repeat your words, we tremble at your majesty, we march beneath your immortal divine body."

A burning longsword, wider than a planet, cleaved through the frigid void. The golden figure, wielding the Emperor's Sword, slashed at the boundless changes and crimson scars surging toward Mars.
Reality trembled, dimensions tore apart, everything became uncertain, and countless timelines overlapped in the past, future, and present.
The golden flames burned away the boundless changes and devoured the scarlet scars.

In the subspace,
Tzeentch let out a sharp wail, and a wound flowing with golden flames appeared on his muscular body.
Khorne grunted, and His brass armor was also cleaved open, with blood beginning to seep out from beneath it.

The emperor stood silently by the stream, where reeds swayed and bronze-colored water flowed, his eyes blazing with intense heat.
In the reeds beside Him, dark figures, driven by intense self-destructive rage, were screeching and howling, attempting to drag the Emperor back to the Dark Lord's altar.

Those emotions, those souls that gave birth to the Lord of Darkness, mostly roared within it.

Some of them disapproved of Zhou Yun becoming a god; they were the ones who hadn't completely given up hope. They believed that Zhou Yun's ascension to the realm of malevolent arts would place immense pressure on the Emperor, potentially overwhelming him and causing him to ascend to become the King of Darkness. Therefore, they attempted to stop the Emperor and have Zhou Yun killed by the gods.
Some of them were utterly desperate, hoping the Emperor would become the Dark Lord; they were now mixed in with him, attempting to push him into that position.

But at least in those brief thirteen minutes, they couldn't do it.

For this moment, the Emperor unleashed the power he had accumulated over countless years, suppressing the dark, cold, and corrupt parts within him, allowing him to unleash his divine might for a brief moment and temporarily suppress the invasion of Khorne and Tzeentch.

For this, the emperor made many sacrifices.
Two shattered chess pieces materialized into human form, their bodies engulfed in scorching crimson flames. Standing before the reeds, they blocked the shadowy figures. The names of these two pieces had long been forgotten, even the Emperor himself couldn't recall them, but now they protected him with their crumbling bodies.
The silver-haired boy's corpse opened his eyes, his clear pupils reflecting a lonely star. His body was thin and pale, as if he were about to disappear.
But he still stood resolutely by the Emperor's side, holding a scepter, suppressing the power of the Dark Lord, allowing the Emperor to unleash his power as the King of Eternity and as the collective of all humanity.

“My friend, Macado,” the Emperor spoke softly, and for a moment, humanity stirred within the words of this divine emperor.

The silver-haired youth remained silent. After all, he had long since died, leaving behind little even what could be called a soul. What now surrounded the emperor's mind was merely a trace of his remaining spiritual energy, mixed with the faith of the masses in him.

Tzeentch dropped the dumbbells he was holding, let out a sharp roar, and burst out of the crystal labyrinth. His powerful arms swung, instantly conjuring countless bizarre spells that surged towards the solar system.

The Blood God reached out to his throne, beside which stood countless blades and swords, each forged in a galactic war.

Among the most powerful weapons, one appears to be composed of twisting gears and diffused nanobots, possessing the power to shatter the entire galaxy and crush a dominant galactic civilization at its peak.

But the Blood God hesitated for a moment, and finally placed his hand on the lower-positioned spear.
The Blood God raised the spear, which was wreathed in boundless killing intent, and hurled it into the solar system, aiming for Mars.

The fiery golden figure standing atop the solar system once more wielded its longsword, clashing with Tzeentch's countless curses and the Blood God's spear.
The warp was in turmoil, and in reality, devout believers who worshipped the Emperor groaned in pain, tears of blood streaming from their eyes.

Although the Emperor blocked this attack again, this clash between the Emperor and Tzeentch and Khorne made the two gods realize the Emperor's current state.
The Emperor now wields the power of a king who is the collective of the human race, a power that has existed for millennia.

The majority of the Dark Lord's power is attempting to drag him into the mire, to strangle him, to make him the Dark Lord, or to kill Zhou Yun.
He can't hold on for long.
Tzeentch let out a sharp, maniacal laugh, and Khorne let out a war cry.

But at that very moment, within the Soul Forge, Vashtor's domain changed.

Rust began to inexplicably form on the demonic engines and furnaces, layer upon layer, devouring Vashtor's domain and spreading deeper into the Soul Forge, towards the very heart of Vashtor's will.

At the same time, a strong hunger surged within the bodies of those demons enslaved by the Vashtor contract. They wanted, they wanted... they wanted to rape Vashtor!

This thirst broke through the Vashtor's contractual restrictions, making them unable to control themselves, and they began to rush towards the core of the Soul Forge.

The faces of the Father and Slaanesh appeared above the Soul Forge, the two deities attempting to capture Vashtor.
Deep within the Soul Forge, Vashtor sighed softly.

Now that things have come to this, how could he not have imagined that he had been deceived by the Emperor and Zhou Yun?

Sure enough, playing tricks wasn't his forte; he trusted contracts more.
Facing the combined attack of Slaanesh and Nurgle, Vashtor calmly produced two contracts: one between Blood God and Tzeentch and Vashtor himself.
According to the contract, they were obligated to help and protect Vashtor at this moment.

Tzeentch sneered, and Khorne also gave a soft snort.
Both of them understood that, at this moment, rather than helping Vashtor, the best option was to seize the opportunity to crush the Emperor and kill Zhou Yun.

They understood what the White Abominations and Nurgle were up to: they wanted to seize this opportunity to capture Vashtor, feed him directly to Zhou Yun, and allow Zhou Yun to simultaneously possess the three realms of malevolent arts. Finally, by offering a sacrifice, they could legitimately achieve ascension.
But if they don't rescue him, Vashtor can hold out for a while longer. By the time Slaanesh and Nurgle capture him and break through Tzeentch and Khorne's blockade to reach Mars, Tzeentch and Khorne will likely have already killed Zhou Yun.

If they were to rescue Vashtor, Zhou Yun might have already successfully merged Om Messiah and the Primal Force. In that case, with two realms under his control and the help of Slaanesh, Nurgle, and the Emperor, his chances of winning would be enormous.
As for Vashtor, the treacherous and the Khorne, they provided all support except assistance.

Vashtor looked at Tzeentch and Khorne, who refused to fulfill the contract, and couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

He slowly placed his hand on the nearly completed Dragon Forest Star beside him.
His will was also conveyed to Tyrande and Khorne.

Longlin Star has fused with the three ancient divine artifacts, allowing it to easily tear through space and time.

If Tzeentch and Khorne do not provide assistance, Vashtor will use this opportunity to instantly reach Mars.

The Emperor will not prevent Vashtor from going to Mars.

Because Vashtor wasn't there to stop Zhou Yun; Vashtor was there to merge himself into Zhou Yun's body.

In other words, if Tzeentch and Khorne do not come to help, Vashtor will now surrender to Zhou Yun and willingly be devoured by him.

Breaking the contract? Then let's all stop playing! How about we all watch Zhou Yun ascend to become the God of Myriad Machines?

Vashtor calmly watched Tzeentch and Khorne, awaiting their decision.

Khorne and Tzeentch cursed, and simultaneously withdrew the power they had been pressing down on the Emperor, rushing impatiently toward Vashtor's Soul Forge to help him fight against Nurgle and Slaanesh.

But Khorne and Tzeentch still held onto a sliver of hope.
Zhou Yun might not be able to successfully fuse Om Messiah and the Primal Force within the remaining time. If Khorne and Tzeentch act quickly enough, they might even be able to catch up.

Ok?
Almost at the same time that Khorne, Tenchi, Nurgle, and Slaanesh were locked in combat,

On Mars, Zhou Yun let out a soft breath. His will, scattered throughout reality and the subspace, began to surge and converge towards his body.

"Alas!"

"Doraemon, I've done it!"

(End of this chapter)