In Warhammer, throwing a muddle is impossible.

Spurred by the life-or-death crisis, Caesar's Primarch body finally broke free of its shackles and began a second development.

His bones are growing, and his muscles are expanding.

The armor, which had originally fit perfectly, was forcibly torn apart, revealing the perfect flesh beneath.

Caesar slowly stood up, and his height seemed to have increased dramatically.

Her long, golden hair moved without wind, and her eyes burned with fierce anger.

Looking at the "fake" that had undergone such a dramatic change, Fugrim felt no threat; instead, he became even more excited.

His perverse aesthetic sense made him crave such powerful and perfect bodies.

"Look, darling."

Fugrim stuck out his tongue, his voice so sweet it was infuriating.

"We are so alike. The way you look now... is simply a work of art. You should join me, and let's enjoy this endless pleasure together!"

"resemblance?"

Caesar gripped the last remaining knife in his hand.

He raised his head and looked at the original form, which had turned into a serpentine monster, with only the purest contempt in his eyes.

"You filthy demon! You lowly scum! You dare to share my face?!"

Forgrim's smile froze.

"What did you say?"

"I said..."

Caesar took a deep breath and roared out the most vile insult with all his might, "You Slaanesh's plaything! You're nothing but a sperm in a latrine! How dare you be as noble as me!!!"

This statement is more destructive than a viral bomb.

The entire room fell silent.

Fugrim's face contorted instantly, a mixture of extreme humiliation and rage, yet also a strange kind of stimulation.

"I'm going to tear you to pieces!!!"

Come on!

Caesar suddenly unleashed his power, instantly overwhelming the Primarch's oppressive aura.

He raised his longsword high, facing Rellano behind him and the dissipating ghosts, and shouted:

"My name is Caesar! I am the Primarch of the newly formed Third Legion!"

"You traitorous beast who betrayed the empire, you will surely die by my sword!"

Rellano's voice trembled as he looked at the blond figure, as if he were seeing the phoenix that had not yet fallen.

"Your Majesty... Lord Caesar... is it you who have granted us salvation?"

The remaining Astartes sensed the call. Instead of continuing their attack, they all gathered behind Caesar, forming an impeccably orderly square formation.

Caesar turned around and looked at his illusory brothers.

"Soldiers of the Third Army! Do you still remember our cry?"

Caesar whirled around, sword pointed at Forgrim, and roared:

"The Emperor's Son!!!"

The next second, all the ghosts, along with Rellano's aged electronic voice, simultaneously let out a deafening roar:

"An enemy who slayed his father!!!"

This cry, spanning ten thousand years, finally echoed on this desolate planet.

"Holy crap, did Kawhi take Viagra? He's so virile!" Vlad exclaimed in the chat. "That's so cool!"

"Stop talking nonsense! Keep charging!" Solomon roared, raising his shield once more and charging forward.

"Osiris!" Caesar shouted.

Osiris, who had summoned the army of ghosts, was now pale.

What was supposed to be a summoning that only consumed points resulted in the summoning of a different being. Osiris seemed to have all his strength drained away upon successfully summoning it, but he still gritted his teeth and continued to invest points.

"Kill this filthy thing!"

"kill!!!"

Solomon raised his shield and rammed it, Vlad's claws tore at it, and Caesar launched a frontal assault.