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

Chapter 661 The Path to Ascension

A torrent from the warp began to lift Vashtor's body.
Time, frozen in the treasury by the ancient saints, began to flow again. The wails of the sacrifices echoed endlessly, and the faith in the malevolent weapon propelled Vashtor's ascension.
In an instant, a brutal assembly line appeared in the warp, filled with the wailing of machines, the roar of steel, and the grinding of flesh, producing terrifying and horrifying weapons.

Chlorine, incendiary bombs, Agent Orange, mustard gas, automated weapons, cobalt bombs, bacterial weapons, genetic weapons. These terrifying weapons were born in past military competitions, echo in the warp, and reside within the realm of malevolent technology.
Now these malevolent echoes are released, piling up into layers of staircases, transforming into boundless potential energy that propels the path to ascension.

That potential energy was so powerful that even Vashtor himself could not control or resist it.
He raised his hand, and a cloud of smoke, a mixture of countless poisonous gases, danced in the air.
He turned around and saw thousands of guns and cannons raging and roaring behind him.

He opened his eyes, and what he saw reflected in them the bright fires of countless sweatshops.

The force that propelled Nurgle, Khorne, and Tengitch to their ascension must have been just as powerful, so much so that they were born into their most extreme forms, becoming the most malevolent divinities.
Vastor's blade-like metallic wings suddenly unfurled, and furnace fire erupted from the void, transforming into screaming and howling craftsmen who wielded flaming hammers, striking Vastor's wings to continuously iterate, update, and leap faster, ultimately transcending the limitations of the material universe, propelling him straight into the highest heavens.
At this moment, all the confusion in his mind vanished as his ascension began. Questions he couldn't understand before were now being answered smoothly. His intelligence was soaring, and his vision was beginning to see through the essence of the world.

He knew where he came from, where he was going, and why he was born.
He is part of the "weapon," the master of the vicious techniques in the Black Sect's ancient saint plan.
The Black Faction—how simple and clear it is! Vashtor hadn't understood it before.

Those fallen, war-driven ancient saints believed that the universe was beyond redemption.
They planned to create a final "weapon" to completely destroy the galaxy.

That "weapon" is essentially an erosion and destruction domain; it is the power of the Dark Lord.

But at that time, Slaanesh had not yet been born in the galaxy, making it impossible for the Dark Lord to be born.

The first choice those ancient saints had at that moment was to cultivate outstanding talents, and then cultivate the Dark King.
However, the environment at the time was not suitable for cultivating outstanding talents, and finding a way to give birth to a Dark Lord was even more difficult.
So the ancient sages chose another path.
They intend to use the realm of malevolent arts to bring forth Slaanesh and the Lord of Darkness.

In the boundless competition, the realm of malevolent arts had already begun to emerge, and the Soul Forge of Vashtor was built upon this foundation.
Thus, they nurtured Vashtor with their belief in weapon iteration and technological innovation.

In the plans of the Old Saints, Vashtor was to accommodate their faith, offering sacrifices to the countless beings who perished in the arms race among the stars, and to assemble artifacts symbolizing the three dimensions of creativity in a ritual to complete its ascension.
This is why the three ancient artifacts always yearn to be reunited, and why Vashtor is always obsessed with obtaining the "weapons" to ascend.
This is the clear destiny bestowed upon them by the ancient sages at the very beginning of their birth.
The moment Vashtor completes his ascension, the destiny already forged within him by the Ancients will come into play.
The art he symbolizes has, from the very beginning, tended towards destruction, devastation, unrestraint, and lack of control.

His birth will inevitably lead to more destruction and annihilation in the galaxy, and will nourish the entire realm of erosion and destruction.

At the same time, the rule of the gods' successive births also destined him to overshadow the realm of erosion and destruction, thus facilitating the birth of the Dark Lord.
He will transform into a molten hammer, pulled from the furnace of malevolent art, and fall from the highest heavens, crashing down upon the realm of erosion and destruction, forcing the birth of the Lord of Darkness, and revealing the divinity born of destruction, who, wielding this hammer, will incinerate the entire universe.
Ultimately, the Black Order was stopped by the Evangelicals, the three Ancient Artifacts were broken, Vashtor was hidden in the warp, and even the Ancients themselves eventually perished in the galaxy.

Now, after such a long and winding journey, and after waiting for so many years, the Black Demon Sect's grand ambition has finally been fulfilled.
The lingering remnants of those ancient saints who had perished hovered around Vashtor, their wisdom extracted, their inspiration transformed into roaring sparks, and their creativity into hammer blows striking Vashtor's body.

And even more, countless terrifying creative forces from countless races were unleashed upon Vashtor, reshaping and elevating his body.
Vashtor grew larger and larger, and the metal on his body turned a molten orange-red color from the constant hammering.
He was now like a semi-molten winged dragon, his upper body a dark metal, his lower body a bright molten orange, surrounded by artisans formed from his malevolent creativity, constantly renewing and iterating his body, pushing him to higher levels.

But as Vashtor looked at the remnants of ancient saints hovering around him, he felt only anger, contempt, and disbelief.

This being, born from the faith of the ancient saints of the Black Descendants, roared at those who created Him:

How can you be so cowardly?

"There are still so many unknowns in this universe, and so much creativity yet to be unleashed."

"You're actually going to let this universe burn to the ground? Where has your thirst for knowledge gone? Where has your creativity gone?"

After the anger subsided, despair welled up in Vashtor's heart.

His purpose in seeking ascension was to gain more knowledge and witness to the truth of this world.
But now, once He completes His ascension, the Lord of Darkness will be born under His immense pressure, and this world will ultimately be destroyed.
Vashtor raised his hand and looked down, seeing the domain of malevolent arts pressing in to erode and destroy, seeing the great black sun above the warp being stained by the orange-red flames of the furnace, and seeing the body of the Lord of Man on the Golden Throne being set ablaze by the furnace.
Vashtor couldn't even stop it
He let out a sigh.
But after his lamentation, Vashtor quickly turned his attention to the knowledge that began to unfold before him with His ascension.

Even at this moment, his thirst for knowledge remained unstoppable. Gazing upon the vast array of knowledge, watching the truths among the stars unfold before his eyes, he couldn't resist absorbing it all.

Even though the Lord of Darkness awaited Him at the very end of Ascension, Vashtor couldn't help but immerse himself in this knowledge, in the joy of acquiring truth.

But at that very moment, a crisp sound of a door opening rang out behind Vashtor.
Vashtor turned his head to look behind him, only to see a red and pink wooden door suddenly appear in the void and then open.

Laughter, binary prayers, the whirring of gears, the rushing of steam, and the whooshing of Gauss all emanated from the doorway simultaneously.
Countless miniature Doraemons of various colors emerged from the door, transforming into colorful waves that surged into the treasure vault. Instantly, the air was filled with the scent of incense, the sounds of binary prayers resounded, sacred oil swirled, and Doraemon's hymns rose, all blending together into a joyous atmosphere.
Amidst the colorful waves, various afterimages emerged: a colossal dragon fell beneath a sharp spear, an emperor treaded upon Mars, Zhou Yun stood beneath the giant statue of Doraemon on Mars, countless members of the Mechanical Order offered devout prayers, and the entire race of Space Necromancers was reborn.
At the crest of these waves, these beliefs, these emotions, these offerings, and these visions converge in one person, forming a massive, round, blue figure.
Vashtor's expression froze slightly. He hadn't expected Zhou Yun to actually use the Anywhere Door to enter this place, enter the Ancient Saint's Treasure Vault, and catch up to him.

why?
How did He know the coordinates of the ancient treasure trove?

why?
He was not surprised by anything that was happening at that moment?
Why.
Vashtor recalled that Zhou Yun had refused His proposal at that time.

Looking back now, it seems that Vashtor has grasped a thread.
He is a contender in the realm of malevolent arts, and has embarked on the path to ascension. Even if He has not yet completed His ascension, His wisdom is incomparably vast.

Moreover, Zhou Yun is also currently undergoing a promotion, and is in a state extremely close to his, even gradually becoming one with him.
The final outcome will either be Vashtor annexing Zhou Yun, or Zhou Yun annexing Vashtor.

This allowed Vashtor to analyze some things.
He still didn't understand what Zhou Yun was asking for, but He knew how Zhou Yun was asking for it.
Repetition, looping, deduction, simulation.
Vashtor glanced back at Zhou Yun, but ultimately didn't say anything.
He knew the gods were watching, and He had no intention of harming Zhou Yun.
He simply shook his head and sighed.

Even a single event can change infinitely; the world is complex and multifaceted, and countless things are beyond His calculations. If something is not beyond His calculations at this moment, it will surely be beyond them in the future.

He was practically walking a tightrope.
Zhou Yun remained silent, extending his round hand toward Vashtor.

The tides that lingered around Vashtor collided with the tides stirred up by Zhou Yun.
The out-of-control creativity manifests as a clash between a furnace worker and a miniature Doraemon, a collision of vicious weapons and Doraemon's gadgets.

But Vashtor himself did not do anything to stop it.
He simply watched Zhou Yun with eyes burning like a furnace, while frantically absorbing knowledge, trying to satisfy his thirst for learning as much as possible at the last moment.
Then, Vashtor said in an almost pleading tone, "Let me take another look."

Zhou Yun remained silent, only extending his round hand.

Vashtor was stunned for a moment, then looked up and realized with shock that he was extremely close to becoming the Lord of Vicious Arts.
He sighed softly, as if releasing all the pent-up emotions of sixty million years in that moment.

He offered almost no resistance and was grabbed by Zhou Yun's round hand.

Zhou Yun was not surprised by this; the same thing had happened before.

He once asked Vashtor why he did not resist.
Vashtor simply said, "There are more people who will come to take it; how can it be reduced to ashes?"

The round hand grasped Vashtor's now scorching hot and enormous body, and the moment this near-godlike being came into contact with Zhou Yun, it began to merge with him.
Zhou Yun grabbed Vashtor and stuffed him into his pocket.
From the perspective of the subspace, this behavior is equivalent to Zhou Yun devouring Vashtor.

This was Zhou Yun's final ceremony.

The Triple Divinity of the God of All Machines
The primordial power, the Om Messiah, the god of all machines, all converged upon Zhou Yun at this moment.
The waves that were battling Mini-Dora, stirred up by Vashtor, were instantly broken down, devoured, and dissipated, becoming nourishment for Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun took a small step forward, and several mini Doraemons appeared, carrying the Anywhere Door, allowing Zhou Yun to step inside.
He passed through the door, and when he reappeared, he was already in the subspace, high above the heavens.
The realm of malevolent arts was now complete and fully formed, hovering in front of Zhou Yun.
Looking up, this realm resembled a vast ocean suspended above the world, within which roaring torrents of subspace in shades of gray, metallic blue, silver, and orange-red filled the air.
Looking out, one can see the necromancers of space weeping with joy at their rebirth, the followers of the Mechanicus praying fervently, and new inspirations bursting forth from the minds of different beings.
Everything in reality related to creativity, inspiration, technology, and mechanical creations is reflected in this field.
Zhou Yun gently reached out his hand, his fingers penetrating the area and lightly touching the reflections.

He touched the creativity of a Tu clan engineer from the Tau tribe, whose mind was sparking new inspiration that would give birth to a brand new weapon.
Pia! Chirp!

Zhou Yun casually extinguished the inspiration, and the Tu clan engineer's expression immediately became blank. The inspiration that had just burst forth disappeared in an instant.

This is the power of the realm of malevolent arts.
Zhou Yun could feel its weight.
He exhaled softly, slowly reaching his hand deeper into this strange, subterranean sea, and even began to slowly immerse himself in the water.
In reality, Saint Gilles, Guilliman, Lane, Fugen, and countless other beings seemed to sense something, slightly raising their heads to look at the higher places where they stood.
Meanwhile, on Terra, atop the golden throne, the body of the Lord of Mankind was being scorched by fire; His body withered little by little, drawing ever closer to utter death.
His withered fingers gripped the throne tightly, as if he had transformed himself into shackles, locking himself upon it.

But He still struggled to lift His head slightly and look towards the highest heavens.
He watched,

Watching Zhou Yun's figure, completely immersed in the realm of vicious techniques.

(End of this chapter)