Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

Chapter 102: A Subspace Entity Born from Misfortune?

The purplish light shone on the soft sofa, which was so soft it seemed to have some kind of attraction, wanting to swallow Zhou Yun into its body, making him so comfortable that he didn't want to leave.

The air was filled with the aroma of incense, a sweet, fruity scent mixed with a hint of tartness that tantalized Zhou Yun's sense of smell. Pale smoke drifted past his nose and neck, slowly swirling around the various instruments of torture hanging on the walls.

Cicero sat opposite Zhou Yun. He had become much thinner than before, his skin clinging tightly to his bones, with almost no trace of muscle. His face was withered, as if he had suffered great torment, and his deep-set eyes seemed to be devouring his eyeballs.

Just how deep was the psychological trauma Guilliman left on him?

Zhou Yun looked at Cicero and thought.

But a voice in his head insisted that it was not his fault.

He said: Cicero's heart was so empty that he tried to fill it with pleasure, extreme feelings and pain, but those things were just a current passing through his nerves, a fleeting feeling that might make him feel filled for a moment, but in the end it only expanded the emptiness in his heart.

He didn't break Cicero; he merely exposed Cicero's true colors. Even without him, Cicero would have ended up like that eventually.

Zhou Yun's observation skills were not as sharp as his, and he could not see the emptiness in Cicero's heart.

But he can see even more shitty things.

It's already grown this big!

Zhou Yun stared in amazement at the misfortune and curse that clung to Cicero.

Under Zhou Yun's influence, he had insulted and cursed the Emperor, Tzeentch, Nagoro, Khorne, and Slaanesh, and thus suffered a backlash and curse.

But he cursed too harshly, and the curse and misfortune destined him to an extremely dark and terrifying end. But such an end cannot be reached in a short time.

Thus, curses and misfortune accumulated on his soul, like a festering sore that drew upon the surrounding misfortune and the energy of the warp, growing and expanding, making Cicero's impending doom even darker and more terrifying.

Through repeated accumulation, the abscess had grown to a point of activation, forming a subspace entity on the verge of birth.

Zhou Yun's precognitive talent vaguely allowed him to sense that when Cicero died in the deepest misfortune, the festering sore would burst, and a demon born from this misfortune would be born in the warp.

It seems like things have gone a bit too far...

Zhou Yun couldn't help but lick his lips. Judging from the appearance of the abscess, it was probably going to burst in the next couple of days, maybe even today.

+What is that? +

Did you make this?

The voice in his mind rang out again; clearly, he had seen it too.

The abscess that lay across Cicero's back.

Zhou Yun felt a little guilty and didn't answer.

Zhou Yun had not expected his child to develop to this extent.

However, given how thick the curtain of Macurag is, it's unlikely to cause any harm to reality once it's created.

Moreover, it ultimately stemmed from the misfortune of Cicero, a mere mortal. How unlucky could a mortal like him be in Macurag?

The demons born in this way probably wouldn't be very powerful.

I guess so...

"Friend, you look very haggard." Zhou Yun made a effort to look away from the ugly pustules and focus on Cicero in front of him.

Cicero forced a smile: "I heard you weren't so lucky either. What a pity, you could have killed that child."

In order to have a legitimate reason for surrendering, Zhou Yun and Guilliman fabricated a story, which was spread by the servants and guards in Marcus's household.

In this story, Zhou Yun could have escaped from the assassin, but the shameless and ambitious Robert Guilliman tripped him up, forcing him to fight the assassin and making Zhou Yun take the knife for him.

Zhou Yun paid a heavy price, using a terrible witchcraft to kill all the assassins, and in his rage, he planned to kill Guilliman.

As a result, their attempt was thwarted by Tiberius, the dwarf son of Marcus, and his guards.

The guards had no idea what had happened; all they saw was a mess of flesh and Zhou Yun and Guilliman staring at each other.

This explanation effectively dispelled their confusion, and they all believed it. They then spread the word, and it eventually reached the ears of Cicero and his companions.

"That's a cunning, ambitious, and wicked child."

Zhou Yun used the telepathic connection to adjust his emotions, making himself appear genuinely indignant.

"I can't imagine how terrible it would be if he ruled Macurag in the future!"

"You know, I am a wizard, I have the ability to foresee the future. The moment I saw the child's true face, I saw the future."

"In the future, under this child's rule, Macragge will become the center of an intergalactic empire, and on the planets under his rule..."

'

"...They actually built thousands upon thousands of gladiatorial arenas, where poor people were thrown to kill each other, sacrificed to a bloodthirsty evil god to please the nobles under his rule. They even made nails that could strip people of all other emotions, leaving only pain and anger, and implanted them into their brains. It's terrifying!"

The voice in Zhou Yun's mind thought that what Zhou Yun said was a bit too much.

In fact, Zhou Yun was not lying.

In the original history, when Angron was found, Guilliman had been found for over sixty years, his Great Alteramar was basically complete, Nuthria was part of the Alteramar frontier, and the high-ranking riders were subservient to Guilliman, serving as his subordinates.

So in a sense, Angron was even Guilliman's hard-working slave.

"How terrible..." Cicero forced a smile and slowly nodded at Zhou Yun.

"If you want to join us, you need to go through a small ceremony first..."

17

Cicero pointed to the mysterious magic circle on the table, which was drawn with some unknown liquid mixed with spices.

Zhou Yun glanced at the magic circle. His knowledge of Prospero's psionic abilities from the archaeologist allowed him to roughly determine that it was some kind of magic circle related to mental connection.

Mind reading? Or memory probing?

Zhou Yun wasn't too worried about either of them.

This thing, no matter what, could not possibly break through his will tempered by the Golden Throne, or probe his memories and heart.

"This is baptism."

"He will connect your spirit with mine, allowing us to share feelings."

"We will share the pain, but don't be afraid... you will not be hurt."

"These instruments of torture will only be used on me. My feelings will be transmitted to you, and you will see the blessing of the first cry of God through the pain."

Cicero spoke in a soft, weak voice, a smile playing on his lips as he spoke, seemingly waiting for Zhou Yun's reaction.

Zhou Yun was looking at Cicero with an extremely strange expression.

His eyes held a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, sudden realization, and finally, pity.

No wonder... so this is the result of Cicero's misfortune... that was indeed quite unlucky.

A voice in Zhou Yun's mind asked him if he wanted to change the plan and use Plan Two.

Although this so-called "baptism" would not harm Zhou Yun's body, he did not want to see Zhou Yun suffer.

Zhou Yun said it was completely unnecessary.

He's going to have something light today too.

"So, where should we begin?"

"Is it gouging out eyes, lifting nose, cutting tongue, slicing ears, slitting throat, or tearing out heart and lungs, suffocating and bleeding, pulling out tendons and peeling skin, chopping with knives and axes, shooting and whipping, throwing into rivers or wells, hanging and burying alive?"

"Or it could be drilling through chimneys, heating the ceiling, sizzling in oil, steaming from top to bottom, roasting over an open flame, sizzling over an indirect flame, or branding with an iron."

Pour cold water over it.

"Is it a matter of detoxifying and clearing heat before death, or is it like eating croton seeds and taking arsenic, drinking salt brine and being injected with mercury, bleeding from all seven orifices and dying?"

Zhou Yun smiled and said to Cicero.

Cicero was completely bewildered. His brain, ravaged by narcotics, couldn't process what was happening. He simply stretched out his hand, pointing blankly at a small knife on the table.

"First, use this knife to cut open your hand and let the blood flow onto the magic circle."

"Okay." Zhou Yun stretched out his hand, cut open his palm, and let his blood flow onto the magic array.

Cicero did the same, and their two pools of blood flowed and mingled together under the guidance of the magic circle.

Almost at the same time, Zhou Yun could vaguely sense a spiritual connection. He began to feel the sensations coming from Cicero's body, and Cicero could also feel the sensations coming from Zhou Yun's body.

Zhou Yun remained silent. He had already withdrawn the bit of will he had left on the Golden Throne in advance to prevent Cicero from feeling the slight pain transmitted from the Golden Throne.

For Zhou Yun, it was just a little bit, but for Cicero, it was probably a level of pain that could directly melt his nerves.

If Cicero hadn't done anything and had just died of pain, how would Zhou Yun have been able to infiltrate this group of cultists?

We'll have to wait a bit longer and find a suitable time.

He calmed himself down, remained silent, and smiled as he watched Cicero, as if waiting for Cicero's performance.

Cicero took a deep breath, stood up, took a few iron skewers from the rack of torture instruments next to him, and placed them in front of him.

Zhou Yun glanced curiously at the iron skewers, then looked at Cicero, signaling that he could begin.

Cicero picked up one of the iron skewers.

"I'm going to use it to pierce my fingertips."

'

"Oh." Zhou Yun nodded.

For some reason, Cicero sensed a hint of... boredom in his voice?

Cicero swallowed hard, then brought the skewer close to his fingertip and pierced the space between his finger and nail.

"Haaah, ahhh, Cicero let out a mournful cry as his pain, mixed with a strange pleasure, surged into Zhou Yun's body."

'

Zhou Yun looked at his fingers, and then...

"Ouch, that hurts!"