This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 350 Reunited with Fogrim, He Now Has Red Lips and a Pink Face
Fogrim was well prepared.

He devoted far more energy to this woman Arthur admired than to anything else in the past.

There was even time to retrieve the Glory Queen, the Imperial Pride, which had been abandoned for who knows how long, from the revelry of some unknown group of great demons.

He even did a lot of 'unnecessary' things while indulging in pleasure.

With the help of the Chaos Wizard's prophecy, he found a mind projection device left over from the Dark Ages of technology and personally tested its strength with the sons of the Emperor.

He then went to Chaos and personally "borrowed" from his nephew Abaddon, who was recuperating from his failed raid on Usvi's Ark, the god-slaying sword Draconion, capable of harming any human, even the rotting corpse on the Golden Throne.

At that time, the war commander was not in good condition.

Because of the Primarch's return and his severe injuries, his Black Legion was thrown into chaos as many factions left and many Chaos Lords began to challenge his position.

The Chaos Warmaster rejected the deal with the Four Gods, believing it would make him a complete slave to Chaos.

Fugrim didn't understand, but he complied.

He found Abaddon and Fabius Bayer quite amusing; despite their utter depravity, they spouted imperial truths while harboring demonic forces, yet they stubbornly clung to them.

He's really looking forward to the day when these two get what they're asking for.

In short, Fogrem really prepared for this operation. He even went to Comoros to prepare a resurrection armor to preserve his consciousness, and deliberately blocked his senses to practice his long-neglected swordsmanship.

He even led the hastily assembled sons of the emperor to indulge in debauchery and pleasure, causing almost everyone involved in the war, even the Chaos Gods, to ignore them.

Okay, no need to pretend.

Therefore, it is very rare for the Phoenix Lord to be serious about this.

As someone who does everything half-heartedly and whose KPIs were exceeded ten thousand years ago, this Primarch lived a carefree and unrestrained life compared to his brothers who were reluctant and went through the motions with a sour face.

Therefore, he rarely devotes his energy to one thing for a long time, and his chaotic master never restricts him much.

But everyone knows how terrifying this Primarch, who killed two Primarchs, used his wits to lure the Iron Lord to the brink of death, abandoned all morality and conscience, and completely indulged himself, can be when he gets serious.

chap!
The sword's edge tore through the air and struck him, scraping open his lips.

boom!
The armor collided with him, causing him to stagger backward, his foundation dripping down with his sweat.

scoff!

With the sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh, blood gushed from the wound, flowing down the armor covered in cuts and even staining the long, platinum-blonde hair.

Fugrim danced around Arthur, the magic sword swirling and flying between his four arms. Enduring the pain, he then gripped the hilt with both hands and slashed down at Arthur.

Arthur raised his shield to block.

Forgrim swiftly switched arms, gripping the shield with both hands while his free arm attacked from the other direction.

clang!
Arthur loosened his grip, took a step back, and allowed his opponent to deflect the shield, which had lost its support. Then, amidst Forgrim's astonished expression, he firmly grasped Draconian's blade.

With his right hand gripping the blade, he swung the sword diagonally, slicing deeply open Fugrim's abdomen, which was covered in slippery scales.

Fugrim stumbled backward.

As the Phoenix Lord retreated, his mind was severely wounded once again. Battles raged among the fortresses on the plains, and the Emperor's Son, already on the verge of collapse, was thrown into even greater chaos.

A shiver ran through Titus, who was mingling in the midst of the battlefield.

Compared to warriors who dedicate themselves to politics and the Primarch's protection, Titus prefers to prove his worth in the flames of war.

He was a modern-day Space Marine who had never undergone the rigorous training of the Great Crusade, but he was by no means weak-willed.

He couldn't understand why these legendary warriors had become so cowardly, when the ancient sage Rellano and others were so resilient, and the members of the Broken Legion were all heroes.

He turned his head and saw that the auxiliary soldiers who had been transferred to the top platform of the city wall were chasing a flawless main battle gang into a complete rout. Those people threw down their weapons and scrambled to escape to the rear steps and transport ramps.

Some people fell to the ground, crying incessantly.

Is it scary?

Yes, it's terrifying.

The sword's edge was silent, stirring the surrounding atmosphere, like a laser beam sweeping across, directly blasting a crack in the ground.

Under the excited gaze of the Slaanesh demons, Forgrim tumbled away in a sorry state, but then his tail was burned through, and he was caught up by Arthur while staggering.

This is not the subspace. After obtaining the Star God Fragment, even ordinary succubi would find it difficult to display their graceful figures beside the Knight Lord.

Clang!
As the blades clashed, this time, Fugrim finally left a wound on the face that haunted his dreams.

Boom!

The shield slammed down, knocking the tall Purple Phoenix to the ground. The iron boots stomped on the back of his head, and the powerful impact crushed Fogrim's face into the mud.

"Heh, my brother, what exactly are you?"

Spitting out blood, savoring the smell of gunpowder mixed with earth, his swollen body convulsed in pain, making Fugrim somewhat regretful that he should have removed more of his accessories.

The outcome has been decided.

The blade pierced through the skull.

At the same time, he looked up at the sword in his hand, the very blade that had once caused the emperor to bleed, and met the flickering eyes, wondering if Abaddon had given him a fake sword.

Draconion was also lost in thought, unable to understand how the Emperor's deception techniques had evolved so much since he had been stuck as a sword for ten thousand years. And what about the mind projection device that Forgrim used to impersonate the Emperor and recreate the Terran unification war?

I tried it before the war started, but the other side didn't fall for it.

Arthur's threshold for satisfaction is too low, making it difficult for Fogrem to induce him to become mentally corrupt. Secondly, Fogrem has no idea what kind of world the other party lives in, and the illusion will soon be seen through by the other party.

Secondly, Arthur is not like the Lion King or Perturabo, who say that this or that is not important, but in his heart he loves his father and his father loves him.

Unlike the angel Saint Geres, who appears perfect on the surface but is inwardly melancholic and sensitive.

This person seems to do everything very decisively. They are happy if you obey them, and they don't care if you don't. Their purpose is not to prove anything to their father or anyone else, but simply to do this.

Fugrim really couldn't understand this person's needs. It seemed that he was completely devoid of greed, anger, and ignorance, and he couldn't read minds because the soul was nowhere to be found.

You can't imagine a world that doesn't exist.

Then, not long after the instrument was started, it was destroyed by Rellano, the son of the Emperor, along with the Dark Angels, making it impossible to interfere.

This reminded Fugrim of his past self.

At that time, he would also humble himself to communicate with his offspring, and even if he didn't like some people, he would try to understand them. He enjoyed this process and continuously pushed the Legion toward perfection, and successfully made the Emperor's son a true role model among the Space Marines.

At that time, they were the only Astartes who could wear the Imperial double-headed eagle.

Perfection is not the final state, but the process of striving for it.

How wonderful it is to be self-disciplined, not indulgent, suppress one's own emotions, and accommodate everyone.

Ah, my past.

Fugrim's body began to convulse as he recalled past glories and feelings of satisfaction he hadn't experienced in millennia.

This is Slaanesh.

The Phoenix King once despised depravity, but once he tried it, he could never go back.

That's the ecstasy you felt when you first picked up your pen and wrote your proud verses; it's the magma coursing through your veins as you stand above thousands, listening to the cheers; it's the long, relieved breath you let out when you've exhausted all your energy to complete a perfect work.

It is all your peak moments, purified, refined, and condensed into that one instant, skipping the process.

In that instant, you were a god.

But only for a moment.

When the mirror shattered, the person woke up.

At that moment, my heart felt as empty as if it had been ripped out. That ultimate sense of fulfillment just now, like a branding iron, left a mark on my soul.

Once you know what that feels like, and then you look at reality, you realize that all your past efforts were meaningless, and you can never bring reality to that peak moment again.

All other flavors in the world have become sand.

Savoring the peak taste I just experienced, I magnify it, stretch it out, and play it repeatedly in my memory. Each echo is clearer than the last, and it also deepens the emptiness in my heart.

Therefore, once you've tasted that feeling, even the Primarch is forever thirsty for it.

Having tasted the clouds in the sky, one can no longer swallow the mud on the ground.

Once you've experienced yourself, you can never tolerate that imperfect version of yourself again.

Everything in reality lost its meaning in an instant, and I could no longer muster the energy to focus on offspring or numb myself with the pursuit of perfection.

In this endless feast, I chase after the next, even more perfect "flower in the mirror," hoping to surpass the previous peaks once more.

Is it depravity?
Of course, it's decadent.

But before you question me, ask anyone in the audience if anyone is willing to stop.

Nobody wants to stop.

Because it's impossible to stop.

"Yes, that's it. Never stop, never change, never go down that path, Arthur."

Fugrim forced a smile onto his disheveled face, his words contradictory.

“Arthur, I will keep chasing you until the moment one of us is completely broken.”

Arthur remained silent, not understanding what this disgusting pervert was trying to say. He raised his sword and finely sliced ​​the body into minced meat.

All he knew was that the war was about to end.

Draconion did not choose to pick up the weapons that had fallen into the ashes, after all, there was a precedent of someone who had suffered a loss by picking up weapons indiscriminately.

Forgrim, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in the moment, grinning and laughing heartily.
-
"call!"

Khorne's face, obscured by iron armor and devoid of any discernible expression, emitted a scorching breath.

He found his purpose before this battle, which he was not entirely satisfied with, came to an end.

He grasped a sword from the edge of the throne.

　P.S.: That's all for this one page. Six thousand words, plus the one from this morning, it should be ten thousand now, sob sob.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)