Warhammer: Lord of the Endless Monster Horde [168]

Four Chaos Gods of the Warp gathered together in a mysterious Warp palace, each manifesting in a unique form. Slaanesh appeared as a humanoid being with a seductive figure and a face that was both handsome and alluring. Nurgle, as always, was a grotesque, bloated, green figure covered with maggots and rotting flesh. Khorne took the form of a massive and terrifying daemon, while Tzeentch appeared as a monster with countless eyes, its form indescribable and ever-shifting.

"So, the two beings in the Webway—are they his Greater Daemons? Can he create his own Greater Daemons? And they're actually this powerful?" Slaanesh asked.

Previously, on a planet sacrificed to them, this golden-armored giant had appeared. At the time, the sheer power he wielded had been truly shocking. Ever since Slaanesh had been secretly investigating the golden-armored giant, but the findings had been minimal. So far, they had only discovered that he seemed to be connected to the Grey Knights. Whenever the Grey Knights carried out a mission, this golden-armored figure had a chance of appearing, slaughtering daemons with unparalleled ferocity—especially targeting Slaanesh's creations.

"How interesting. I must capture this golden doll," Slaanesh mused.

"This golden-armored giant does indeed look almost identical to the Emperor," Nurgle said. "And he radiates that familiar light. We all know that light too well."

"My daemons have encountered this golden-armored giant before," Khorne added. "He seems to appear alongside the Grey Knights, but this time, unexpectedly, he showed up in the shattered Webway."

The Chaos Gods had all suffered from the destructive power of this golden figure over time. It was impossible not to notice something so similar to the Emperor wreaking havoc.

The four Chaos Gods engaged in a heated discussion, reaching a consensus: this being was some sort of alternative Greater Daemon created by the Emperor, specifically to guard the Webway.

"So, should we continue sending lesser daemons to attack the Terra Webway?" Nurgle asked.

"Why not? These lesser daemons are worthless to us. With a mere wave of our hands, we can create thousands upon thousands of them. As long as the Warp exists, as long as there are intelligent beings in the material universe, and as long as negative emotions persist, our power is infinite," Slaanesh replied.

The death of these daemons was of no consequence to them—they were endless.

"Firstly, those two beings are not Greater Daemons," Tzeentch interjected. "We have all created our own Greater Daemons before. But these two are far stronger than ordinary Greater Daemons. Newly-born Greater Daemons could never possess such power. And they are fundamentally different from Greater Daemons."

Why am I, the Lord of Change, the embodiment of infinite knowledge and sorcery, forced to sit on equal footing with these three fools?

Tzeentch thought bitterly.

One is obsessed with lust and hedonism. Another spends all day brewing plagues and playing the role of a doting father. And the third only thinks about war, blood, and rage.

"Are those two beings Greater Daemons? They may use the Emperor's powers, but they aren't Warp entities. How could something that isn't a Warp entity be a Greater Daemon?"

"Then what do you think they are? Could they be his Daemon Princes? But aren't his Daemon Princes supposed to be the Living Saints?" Nurgle asked.

"They're not Daemon Princes either. Daemon Princes are transformed beings, and these are entirely different," Tzeentch snapped back, dismissing Nurgle's suggestion. "Think before you speak, you brainless sack of plague and filth."

"They must be chosen ones," Khorne suggested. "The Emperor's hand-picked champions."

"Ugh, why does no one consider that they might be a different kind of living weapon?" Tzeentch sighed in exasperation. "Why must you insist on understanding these beings using concepts we've created in the Warp? Have you all forgotten how to think?"

Tzeentch had initially been reluctant to voice their conclusion but could no longer endure the stupidity of the others.

These weren't Daemon Princes, Greater Daemons, chosen ones, or champions. They were a unique form of living weapon. As the Master of Sorcery and Knowledge, Tzeentch could discern this. They were artificial constructs, not creations of the Emperor's Warp power.

"You're the idiot, Tzeentch!" Slaanesh retorted. "How could those two possibly be artificial living weapons? The Imperium has been so thoroughly corrupted by us. Our spies are everywhere. The Emperor couldn't possibly have a forge world capable of creating such living weapons, and he can't even communicate with his subjects."

If we were to talk about the corruption of the human world, then Slaanesh would undoubtedly claim the top spot—no one else would dare to claim first place.

The power wielded by the Prince of Pleasure is the most effective at corrupting nobles. For him (or her), corrupting the nobles of the Empire is as effortless as drinking water.

Naturally, it is well understood what state the Emperor is in right now—he can no longer communicate with his subjects, let alone create living weapons.

"So this is what we need to investigate thoroughly. No more keeping secrets. That guy is an enemy to all four of us. None of you want another being like him to show up and play chess with us, right?" Tzeentch said.

"Play chess? When have we ever played chess?" Nurgle asked in a confused tone.

"It's a metaphor, you fat pig! You pile of rotting flesh! We four are the most powerful entities in the Warp. Our manipulation of all life is akin to a chess master controlling their pieces."

"Oh! Then just say it directly. Why bother with all these convoluted metaphors? You never speak plainly and are always using these weird words," Nurgle replied, looking at Tzeentch with an exasperated expression.

"You! Forget it. Slaanesh and I should handle the investigation. Once we finish, you two can launch an attack against them," Tzeentch said, suppressing his anger.

"Should I send Angron over to help?"

"I can send Fulgrim from my side."

"Then on my side, uh… that guy's name is Mortarion, right? I'll send him."

"What we need to do now is halt the attack immediately and investigate the truth behind this matter. Haven't you observed those two giants closely? Their stamina isn't infinite; it can be depleted. But what's strange is that every time their energy is nearly exhausted, a golden light descends, replenishing their strength and allowing them to continue fighting in the Webway. Why is that?"

Tzeentch asked.

"I know! It's the Emperor using his psychic power to heal their wounds," Nurgle said, raising his pudgy hand.

The other two Chaos Gods nodded in agreement.

"Then isn't there another possibility? For example, what if the daemons killed by him are somehow being converted by the Emperor into his energy, which he then uses to heal the wounds of those two golden-armored giants?" Tzeentch suggested.

"Uh! Are you joking?"

"How could something like that be possible?"

"I don't believe you. You've lied to us far too many times!"

The three Chaos Gods almost unanimously rejected Tzeentch's idea. How could such an absurd thing be possible?

"Suit yourselves. My daemons will no longer attack. I'll have my cults in the material universe investigate this matter," Tzeentch said coldly, turning into a mist and leaving. He no longer wanted to waste his words on these three idiots.

"I'm off to hang out with Isha."

"Why not let me borrow Isha for two days? How about it? I'll personally spend time with you," Slaanesh teased.

Back when Slaanesh was first born, that fat pig Nurgle snatched away his beloved doll. When would he ever get his turn to toy with Isha?

"Not interested. I don't care about you," said the benevolent Father Nurgle, shaking his head and waddling off with his green, bloated body.

"Slaanesh, I'm sending Angron out to smash those two golden monstrosities. Want to join me?"

"No thanks," Slaanesh replied, shaking his head and walking away.

...

Meanwhile, in the Webway, a towering, monstrous demon with strange, nail-like protrusions embedded in its forehead charged in.

It was none other than Angron, the Daemon Prince of Khorne, consumed by an unending rage and transforming into a crimson storm of blood and fury.

["Be careful. I sense one of my sons approaching—it's Angron!"]

The moment Angron entered the Webway, the Emperor immediately sensed him.

"Oh!"

So quickly, a Daemon Prince had arrived? And it was none other than Angron, the most violent and bloodthirsty of all the Daemon Princes.

["Don't be careless. Should I pull back your forces? Angron's power is beyond anything you can imagine."]

"Is that so? Well, I have a warrior on my side who's just as powerful!"