Chapter 296: Hello, I Am Slaanesh

Foggrem's screams echoed through the Warp, stirring violent waves across the Warp region corresponding to Macragge.

Blue electrical light, seeping through Zhou Yun's circular hand, corroded Foggrem's body like poison—his scales peeled away layer by layer, his skin rotted in patches, his muscles died strand by strand.

A hollow death, pure in its absence of any sensory stimulation, only pure pain, eroded Foggrem's body.

Simultaneously, his bodily power was being drained, and his very life was being gnawed away.

Foggrem writhed, convulsed, and curled into a ball like an electric eel, thrashing within the Warp.

His very existence was wounded, corrupted by something not of Slaanesh.

"Spare me!!" He struggled to escape Zhou Yun's circular hand, sobbing and begging for mercy.

Having indulged in pleasure for ten thousand years, his spirit was far more decayed and weak than Zhou Yun had imagined—he began wailing in supplication, as if abandoning all honor.

Zhou Yun merely pressed his circular hand closer to Foggrem.

The portion of the domain of corrosion and destruction bestowed upon him by the Emperor, his own domain of malicious artifice, and the domain of greedy dissolution gained by consuming the Tyranids—all converged upon Foggrem.

For the first time, Zhou Yun clearly perceived his own existence and sensed the three domains within the Warp.

Yet precisely because of this, Zhou Yun felt a faint confusion.

The domain of malicious artifice was still understandable—Doraemon's gadgets were indeed mechanisms of creativity, superior designs beyond all others; possessing those tools made it easy for Zhou Yun to approach the domain of malicious artifice.

Though the domain of corrosion and destruction came directly from the Emperor, Zhou Yun did not understand why he could accept it so effortlessly—as if the position of the Dark King had always been meant for him.

The same applied to greedy dissolution—a domain Zhou Yun had touched little; he occupied part of it because he had turned the tables and preyed upon the Tyranids and demons, the apex predators of matter and reality, making himself a predator even to humans, demons, and the Hive Mind—but he had accepted it just as effortlessly.

Moreover, Zhou Yun faintly sensed that his true essence still lay beneath these three domains—a deeper, more distant entity born from the future, connected to each facet of greedy dissolution, corrosion and destruction, and malicious artifice.

But Zhou Yun could not yet discern what it was—he could only wield the power of these three domains and press them upon Foggrem.

Greedy dissolution devoured Foggrem's life, malicious artifice drained his vitality, and corrosion and destruction was the most lethal of all.

A death devoid of pleasure, only hollow darkness, inflicted unbearable agony upon Foggrem.

The dark memories buried beneath his indulgence and decadence surged forth from his chest.

That sword—ten thousand years ago, Foggrem remembered that sword, remembered the pain, cruelty, and fall.

He saw his own blade slash across Ferrus's neck, drawing a crimson arc; within the blood, everything reflected—him and Ferrus, all they had been. They were comrades, brothers, friends—utterly different yet mutually respectful, having won countless honors together.

All of it flashed in the arc of the stabbing blade, then drowned beneath Ferrus's blood, dissolving in Slaanesh's laughter.

Only Ferrus's severed head remained, eyes wide, staring fixedly at him.

"Fulgrim."

Ferrus whispered.

His voice carried anger, hatred, and a faint lament for his brother's fall.

Ten thousand years of pain, buried deep in his consciousness, masked by pleasure and corruption, thought long forgotten—now erupted from within him, becoming blades of death that cut through his body.

Foggrem screamed in agony, feeling his body slowly dissolve within Zhou Yun's circular hand.

In Slaanesh's bedchamber, six hundred sixty thousand demonic musicians spiraled through gossamer purple silk, playing sixty-six distinct instruments made of pure gold.

Six thousand six hundred sixty-six dancers moved across a Persian carpet adorned with intricate patterns; the faces on the carpet groaned with mingled pleasure and pain as the dancers' slender, golden-chained jade feet trod upon them, performing a dance blending six hundred sixty-six sexual positions to please their master.

Six hundred sixty-six of the finest painters from across the galaxy crouched beside the magnificent being upon the vast velvet bed, using sixty million pigments and brushstrokes to sketch His form—yet no matter how hard they tried, they could never accurately depict His beauty, decadence, and lust.

The harpists laughed wildly, playing harps strung with stretched human intestines; the owners of those intestines screamed in agony with every note.

The drummers grew ecstatic, shattering the skulls of infants from sixty-six different races with golden drumsticks, using their piercing shrieks as percussion.

The bassists staggered forward, carrying food laced with potent neurotoxins and barrels of alcohol infused with stimulants.

The singers belted out songs capable of tearing apart mortal vocal cords—but Slaanesh had blessed them, granting them eternal song even in agony.

The Lord of Hunger reveled as sixty-six Keepers of Secrets pleasured her in countless bizarre ways, feeding her body extreme stimulation.

Shalasi Muzai, Slaanesh's Chief Daemon, reveled in the pleasure of this moment—he was the central figure serving Slaanesh herself at this feast.

This was his first feast since regaining Slaanesh's favor.

He had once been defeated by the Grey Knights and cast into the cold palace; now, having seized the Fifth Hag's Sword from the Necrons, he had regained Slaanesh's favor once more.

Shalasi Muzai savored the endless pleasure from the Lord of Hunger's body—his desire was nearly fulfilled.

Yet the Lord of Hunger's moist eyes suddenly widened—within them, Foggrem's agonized screams were reflected.

The blessing Slaanesh had bestowed upon Foggrem was being burned away, fading bit by bit from the Warp.

Slaanesh's blessing had long since corrupted most of Foggrem's body, turning him into an extension of Her power; erasing Her blessing was equivalent to killing Foggrem utterly.

At the final moment of Shalasi Muzai's desire being satisfied, he watched the Lord of Hunger rise from Her bed.

This was the first time since the end of the Great Crusade.

Zhou Yun's consciousness interwove between two bodies.

On the orbital freighter, he stood amidst a forest of spirit-bone, watching the Jiaojue and the Exalted Avatar pinned to the ground.

Just now, Zhou Yun had realized.

Why couldn't spirit-bone be a machine?

Spirit-bone could serve as a weapon—weapons were clearly machines.

Spirit-bone could build houses—the equipment used to build houses were clearly machines.

Spirit-bone could become a ship—ships were clearly machines.

So spirit-bone was clearly a machine too—even though it was pure Warp matter, nothing forbade Warp matter from being mechanical!

Once his thoughts cleared, Zhou Yun instantly seized control of the spirit-bone, overpowering the Eldar Bone-Singer and taking command of the Jiaojue and the Exalted Avatar.

The Exalted Avatar—or rather, the entity possessing it, the Laughing God, Slaanesh—gave a self-deprecating smile.

"I didn't expect I'd rescue a Shadow Avatar and lose a Jiaojue and an Avatar."

"I merely wished to discuss cooperation," Zhou Yun smiled at the Avatar. "Why not invite me to your Black Library?"

"That won't do—I invited you, and my brother Inard would be displeased."

The Exalted Avatar grinned.

"Besides, every time humans come to my Black Library, they cause nothing but trouble."

Zhou Yun was not surprised by Slaanesh's refusal.

The Black Library was one of the Eldar's last reserves, the key to their resurgence—Slaanesh would never lightly open it to humans.

Just as humans would never permit an alien to approach the Golden Throne—though it was hard to say whether the Emperor upon the Throne was in danger, or whether the alien approaching Him was.

Had Slaanesh agreed outright, Zhou Yun would have suspected some treachery.

Though He was only the fourth greatest trickster in the galaxy, He had once tricked the Gods into killing each other.

The Heartlock Sacred Beetles on Xilandelie Veilwalker had indeed been removed, but Zhou Yun had never trusted Necron technology.

The Eldar and Necrons were ancient enemies—they must have ways to counter Heartlock Sacred Beetles.

He used another method to track Xilandelie Veilwalker. Hmm?

Zhou Yun faintly sensed something—he snapped his head up, staring at the Jiaojue suspended in midair by spirit-bone.

The Jiaojue rolled her eyes, convulsing violently, her face contorted in madness.

The Exalted Avatar also sensed it—he gasped in terror, trembling uncontrollably like a small beast facing its predator.

Only Guilliman, bewildered, felt nothing.

The Jiaojue's body suddenly stiffened—her limbs twisted in unnatural ways, the horns in her hair warped and reshaped into a crown of black-purple horns; her black hair turned white and curled.

Her body changed too—her jester's costume peeled away like scales; her form writhed, becoming serpentine and piscine, thick, obscene fluids seeping from her pores, coating her exposed skin, slowly hardening into a sheer purple veil.

The veil was too thin to conceal her body—it existed only to provoke desire.

Finally, the exquisite mask carved with Slaanesh's face, worn upon her face, fused with her flesh, sinking gradually into her skin, becoming her new face.

A face beyond description, as if it held a million beauties the material universe could not contain.

Pleasure.

A spiritual delight rose from all things.

Whether the Exalted Avatar, Guilliman, or even the mindless spirit-bone, machines, the entire freighter, the air within, or the vacuum beyond—all felt pleasure.

Groans of bliss echoed simultaneously in reality and the Warp.

The Jiaojue gently stretched her body, like a drowsy, delicate maiden awakening.

"Hello."

She smiled at Zhou Yun.

"I am Slaanesh."

Zhou Yun's flesh began to churn.

(End of Chapter)