In Warhammer, throwing a muddle is impossible.

"Get lost! You pervert! Stay away from me!"

Book 1: Chapter 61 The Ghost of Istvan

"Get away from me! You disgusting reptile!"

Caesar's voice was filled with physical disgust.

He looked at the face in front of him that was exactly the same as his own, but filled with lewdness and depravity, and his stomach churned.

However, to Forgrim, these angry words sounded like the most beautiful love confession.

"Oh, how energetic, how volatile."

Fugrim stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, his four arms outstretched as if displaying his twisted perfection.

"Your anger makes your soul more delicious."

"Come, my other half, come with me back to the Dark Prince's palace. There is endless pleasure there, and we can discuss the ultimate mysteries of perfection on beds of silk and flesh..."

"I'll talk your grandpa!" Caesar gripped his Channabal saber tightly, his eyes blazing with fury.

From the ruins not far away, Rellano's voice lowered.

"There's no hope..."

The Dreadnought let out a mournful groan, its voice aged and desperate, "Lord Caesar, you said you would reclaim the glory of the Third Legion... but where is our Legion now? The once glorious son of the Emperor, now only I remain."

"The genetic seed has been severed, and the lineage has been broken. Even if you possess the original's face, you cannot recreate the phoenix of yesteryear from the ashes."

Rellano's words stung Caesar.

But when he looked at Forgrim, the corrupted monster didn't even flinch at Rellano's words; his purple eyes were filled only with greed for his own flesh.

“It’s hopeless.” Caesar’s last hesitation vanished. “This thing is no longer Forgrim; it’s just a lump of warp dung in human skin.”

"Rellano! Watch!"

Caesar roared, his golden hair dancing wildly in the wind, "As long as the flame remains, the phoenix can rise from the ashes! I am that flame!"

boom!

The ground cracked open, and Caesar transformed into a black streak of light, charging once again toward the Primarch.

"Attack!" Solomon followed closely behind, his scepter gleaming with golden holy light as it crashed down.

The four focused their attacks once again. However, reality proved harsh.

As transmigrators, although they possess the original body, they are merely "blank slates".

They had not experienced the trials of the Great Expedition, nor had they received the vast amount of knowledge instilled by the Emperor. They even needed to rely on their gaming experience to figure out how to perfectly control their bodies.

Standing opposite them was a demon prince who had lived for ten thousand years and fought his way out of the most brutal battlefield in this infernal galaxy.

"Too slow, too rough."

Foghrim, as if toying with a child, effortlessly deflected all the attacks with his four arms wielding sharp blades.

"boom!"

Vlad was once again sent flying by a tail lash from Forgrim, crashing heavily into Solomon's Storm Shield. The two slid for several meters before coming to a stop.

[Vlad: I can't take it anymore! The stat difference is huge! Old Suo, aren't you supposed to be that charlatan from Luojia?]

Vlad shouted angrily into the channel.

Vlad: This guy's a demon! Aren't you a priest? Quick! Perform some kind of magical ritual, or chant some spell to send him back down the toilet! Don't hold back on something you can easily handle!

Solomon, holding his shield, felt like his arm was about to break, and nearly fainted when he heard this.

[Solomon: Are you out of your mind?!]

Solomon used his skills to block Fugrim's thrust while roaring in the channel.

Solomon: Just because we look alike doesn't mean I'm that bald guy! I'm a law student! I'm memorizing the Civil Code, not the Devil's Code! What do I know about warp rituals?

Solomon: You're one to talk! Doesn't Koz have prophetic abilities? Why don't you predict his attack?

Vlad: You think I don't want to use it?! I can't even find the switch on that thing!

While the two were shifting blame to each other, the pressure of the main battlefield fell entirely on Caesar.

Ta-da!

Sparks flew. Caesar's Channabal saber was already riddled with nicks.

Forgrim's four swords formed an impenetrable net, enveloping Caesar. Each strike was powerful and aimed directly at vital points.