This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 431 Emperor: You four truly delight me! (4k)

Life is such a wonderful thing.

Just when you think things can't get any worse, something will pop up to teach you what humility is.

As his head is pressed against the molten metal torrent, and he faces excruciating pain that seems to scrape his very bones, the 'Creator' Vashtor will recall that distant era when he was awestruck by the ancient relics during the Eldar's Great Fall.

The world has changed.

The excruciating pain was so terrible that he could hardly bear it.

Corax, the true Lord of the Shadows, a being born from the Warp itself, was given a human form by the Emperor. In contrast, Vilaraknaru was kept as a tool for pleasure, busy for countless hours yet still being played with by the Four Gods, like a clown in a circus.

Click!

With his knuckles embedded in the barrier beneath the torrent, Vashtor roared as he felt himself weakening.

"Ramesses—"

Before he could finish speaking, Corax slammed him into the lava.

A long pause, a resentful struggle.

Corax remained expressionless, tearing at the lesser god with all his might.

'Next time, next time I definitely will.'

A strong sense of humiliation surged within him, and his extremely intense emotions bathed everything around him in a crimson hue.

Chi!

The steel twisted, and the claws that should have been called hands gripped his spine, while the flock of crows surrounding him scraped off layer after layer of metal skin from his body.

Ramses focused intently on gathering the fragments, frantically pressing the Emperor's phone while simultaneously tracing the rift between his current location and reality. He displayed none of the nonchalant attitude that would infuriate anyone, especially his opponents, and ignored Vashtor's venomous resentment.

The purpose of trash talk is to achieve goals more efficiently. Now that the goal has been achieved, there are still a lot of contingency plans to catch up on. He doesn't have the energy to act like a villain in front of dead people and waste time.

There are countless examples of the lesson learned from opening champagne at halftime.

Vashtor was a cunning fox, but there won't be a next time.

"Hurry up."

Ramses was like an employer urging a butcher to slaughter a pig, and even complaining that the two of them weren't killing it fast enough, and was calling for reinforcements.

He was not far from Corax, collecting the scattered fragments, keeping an eye on the Emperor's movements while also looking at the other areas with considerable annoyance.

They're not the only ones in the warp.

As Ramses' senses swept across the turbulent tides of the subspace, his expression turned solemn. In those infinitely shifting times and spaces, chains covered in blood or putrid fungi extended in an almost infinite manner.

At the same moment that Vashtor weakened with the attacks, Khorne and Nurgle caught wind of it.

The chains moved incredibly fast, but from a distance, they appeared almost motionless, defying all physical principles and common sense, mocking the original form of this spacetime.

The enormous shadows cast by the swinging motion caused the wandering creatures around to scramble for cover. Even though the almost infinite area of ​​the warp was in a state of no man's land, it was undeniable that the four gods were the overlords among them. Even the most wicked demons did not want to become part of these gods' collateral attacks.

It's clear that filthy things aren't so easy to handle.

"Ahhhh!!!"

Vashtor screamed.

His left leg showed signs of decay, much like those warships infected by the Iron Plague, where the surface metal began to peel away, exposing large areas of bio-chemical decay.

It was filled with anger, and it seems that the loss of a chosen one was not so easily accepted by the benevolent Nurgle.

Such a conspiracy would not pose much of a threat to a lesser god; as long as he could break free of Corax's restraints, he would soon be able to escape from this conspiracy.

However, everything has changed now.

'Can't Vashtor change his stupid habit of signing contracts with slave owners?'

Ramses cursed under his breath, grabbed Vashtor's head, and used a rear naked choke to control the most crucial part of his head first, without letting go even as the chains lashed his body.

"Don't let go yet, hold on for a while."

With a dark expression, Ramses tore off the chains that were trying to push their luck and bind him. He continued to scroll through his densely packed contact list, the communication buttons having been pressed until they were smoking since the start of the war.

There are many notes in it.

It's not that he has many connections in the warp.

They all belong to the emperor alone.

Korax's body flickered, his hand gripping Vashtor's steel spine firmly. Khorne's chains passed through him, binding Vashtor's body.

The crimson chains that followed were bound to Vashtor's left arm, one above the other of the decaying chains.

Click~
Vashtor's body stiffened in an instant.

As the two immense forces began to clash, a series of cracking sounds, as if the force was too great, emanated from the area between his left leg, left arm, torso, and head.

"what!"

The Creator let out a terrible wail, the despair contained within which suffocated the countless warp entities watching in the waves.

But at this moment, no one cares about the prey's opinion.

Wow~Wow~
The chains vibrated, striking and shaking the subspace tides.

Khorne and Nurgle continued to exert their power, and their demonic armies were rushing towards them along the threads left by the covenant, like a pack of greedy hyenas, wanting a share of the spoils from the attack.

Creep~Creak~
The sounds of metal twisting, breaking, and contorting were ubiquitous.

Ramses did not relax his efforts at all; for example, he thought that if he let Vashtor escape this time, he would find another opportunity to take it all for himself next time.

Just kidding, once they've escaped this time, they'll never be caught again. With Vashtor's cowardly nature, he might just run off to the Andromeda Galaxy.

Ramses gripped Vashtor's head tightly, the pressure forcing his searchlight-like eyes to bulge out, and continued to apply pressure to the Emperor.

"Why hasn't Old Man Huang made a move yet? Could he really have dementia?"

"If I were to intervene, my greed would prevent you from obtaining this vicious technique. My power allows me to tolerate your existence, so even someone as powerful as me can reach a consensus when you face a threat. My greed and vigilance urge me to prevent you from gaining more power."

The 'apprentice' suddenly spoke out of the blue.

Those around them took it for granted.

However, this stalemate is not a solution.

The 'apprentice' looked left and right, and the submissive attitude of the people around him made him somewhat inexplicably unhappy. Finally, he found Lord Cypher in the crowd, who was analyzing the prophecy.

Compared to the days when he was tormented by the voices in his head until he almost lost consciousness, he is now contemplating the feasibility of the orders after completing his mission, exuding a rather dangerous aura.

"Lord Cipher."

Amidst the envious gazes of the Grey Knights, the 'Apprentice' approached Lord Seifer.

Suddenly, a sword appeared in her hand.

It was a broadsword with a distinctly Mediterranean style, sheathed in a leather-wrapped scabbard, and seemed far too large for a human woman.

"Ok?"

Lord Seifer, his hand resting on the blade of his sword, cast a questioning glance his way.

"Ascalon."

The 'apprentice' raised her sword in a gesture, and replied in her signature nonsensical manner, "A human treasure, forged long ago, when the world was completely different from what it is now."

Ascalon, the holy sword used by St. George to slay the dragon in ancient Terran mythology, was forged by the Emperor's grandfather in the Middle Ages when he used a stone to knock down a Void Dragon on Mars and seal it away.

A string of thoughts flashed through Aglaia's mind. She quickly shook her head, clutching her head in pain, wanting to laugh but not daring to, her shoulders twitching.

She felt that her knowledge base had been completely corrupted by Lord Ramses.

Lord Cypher found it difficult to take his eyes off the blade.

Even before it was revealed from its simple scabbard, he immediately sensed the sword's perfection.

Everything about it—its size, shape, and the magnificent black and gold decorations extending from the guard to the tip—exhibits its extraordinary nature.

Lord Cypher blinked, realizing he was staring at the black hilt of the sword and had completely ignored the 'apprentice's' words. "Damn it."

Lord Cypher cursed himself under his breath; he had to struggle to resist the urge to reach out and grasp it.

Its existence, steeped in history and legend, is truly alluring.

"I have a sword now."

"This isn't for you."

The apprentice's gaze never left the focused figure on the high platform.

"."

Lord Cypher fell silent.

Well, he's just being sentimental.

"I need you to give it to the person who needs it."

The 'apprentice' pointed to Arthur on the high platform.

"Who said that?"

"Emperor."

"Why not have His Highness come in person?"

Taking the blade, gripping the scabbard with both hands and trying not to touch the hilt, Lord Cypher swallowed hard and asked again.

To be honest, such a weapon would be a treasure to any warrior, and it would be too much of a torment for him to handle it.

"."

The apprentice remained silent.

He wanted to, but the question was whether he could even make the call.

The apprentice couldn't help but sigh at the thought of someone having a bunch of unanswered messages being read by others. Compared to the others, this made it impossible for Him to show any goodwill.

But this is for the best; it would be a real problem if the call got through someday.

"Your Highness."

Standing beside the gradually fracturing physical body of the real universe, Arthur looked back at Lord Cypher, who had climbed onto the high platform.

He handed over the sword blade from his bosom.

"This is what the Emperor asked me to give you."

"Thank you."

After a brief moment of doubt, Arthur picked it up casually.

He gripped the edge of the scabbard, seized the hilt, and smoothly drew the blade. Cypher felt a shiver rise from his very soul.

The metal was as black as ink, reflecting almost no light; the light was completely absorbed by its surface. The powerful inspiration allowed Lord Cypher to sense the resentment of an ancient being from the real universe within it.

Arthur showed no reaction, as if he were holding an ordinary sword.

He frowned slightly.

Having spent most of the past thirty years at the Academy of Military Sciences, he could clearly tell that this was the technology of the Necromancers, or rather, the Star Gods, but functionally it was similar to the Eldar, amplifying psionic energy.

This sword offers him no advantage; the Excalibur, which combines the wisdom and technology of multiple races, is far superior.

Perhaps Ramses is a better fit.

"Did you get the stuff?"

A rift opened up in front of Arthur, from which came the sound of Ramses gasping for breath, just like when they were tug-of-war in college.

His actions at this moment were indeed somewhat comical, as he and Corax were huddled together, one pulling hard on Vashtor's spine, the other holding Vashtor's head and wrestling with the endless chains.

Vashtor was like a rag doll, his entire body torn to shreds.

"Ah, Old Huang's split personality is hopeless. He has to go through several hands before he can give away his own things."

Lord Cypher lowered his head, seemingly lost in thought.

"What do you need me to do?"

Arthur asked, gesturing with the blade.

"Help me cut it."

Ramses turned his body with difficulty, revealing the part of Vashtor that had been dragged by Khorne and Nurgle.

Compared to its main body, which still retains some distinctive features, Vashtor's left leg and left arm have been completely corrupted by the two evil gods, with rusted and molten metal above and rotten, stinking carapace below.

As the two immense forces clashed, Vashtor's expression was as broken as his thoughts at that moment.

Everything that constitutes the Creator is as fragmented as his appearance at this moment, and both sides treat it as their own spoils, tearing apart everything they can reach.

Fortunately, Ramses put on an act when necessary, and when he wasn't, he was always working, so at least for now, things are still in a tug-of-war.

"Remember to put the sword in, I can't free my hands."

The light burst away the demons that had been entangled with him, and he managed to squeeze out another sentence.

"it is good."

Arthur nodded and swung the sword blade, which was covered in a rich golden light.

Lord Cypher noticed through the rift that the blade had established a connection with a greater being the moment it entered the warp. The warp entities that were watching from afar were stunned at first, and then began to flee for their lives amidst the ashes of their companions who had been burned to death by the cold, blazing sun.

The two chains of different colors trembled slightly.

Firmly gripping the sword that was being swayed by countless thoughts and trying to break free of his control, Arthur ignored Vashtor's nearly collapsing arm joints and slashed at the chains.

?

It wasn't a hand that was chopped off?

Of course there's no need to cut off his hand; he's an emperor, an emperor whom all of humanity has prayed for for ten thousand years.

The chains of Nurgle and Khorne were stretched to their limit, pulling Corax and Ramses off balance. The golden lightsaber fell and cleaved the chains in two.

Boom!

The anger of Khorne and Nurgle surged like a tsunami across the Warp.

"Ha ha!"

The dragging force suddenly disappeared, and Ramses staggered into the air. He laughed and gave the warp the middle finger before falling out of the rift with Corax.

It departed along with Vashtor's body.

wow~
Two bodies fell to the ground.

"Wait--"

Arthur reacted swiftly, throwing away Ascalon and ignoring Vashtor's pleas for mercy. He drew Excalibur and severed Ascalon's head, corrupted left hand, and left arm, then threw the body parts into the individual small black stone arrays that had been prepared beforehand.

Then he stopped paying attention to the spoils and quickly helped his two companions up.

"Is everything okay?"

Arthur inquired with concern, then thanked Corax, who had rushed from the warp to provide assistance:
"Thank you for your help, Corax."

"fine."

Corax replied, moved, still clutching half of Vashtor's spine in his hand.

Be neither arrogant nor impatient; be bold yet meticulous.

The apprentice looked up at the scene above, smiled, and then collapsed to the ground as if his body had suddenly lost its bones.

The surrounding gray knights hurriedly surrounded them.

(End of this chapter)