Chapter 391: Useless in Every Way, But the Greatest Gunslinger

Click—

The sound of a revolver spinning rose, the scent of gunpowder filling the air, golden sands swirling up from nowhere, drifting over the sea of blood.

A cowboy hat stirred in the wind, held firmly atop the head by a hand wrapped in flowered rope.

A man of mortal appearance, dressed in vintage Terra-American Western cowboy attire, stood between Leina and Scarbrand.

His right hand hung low, gripping an ordinary-looking revolver, aimed squarely at Scarbrand's body.

The battlefield fell suddenly silent—even Scarbrand's rage-filled, murderous mind froze for an instant.

The man slightly lifted his cowboy hat, revealing the face beneath.

It was a youthful, childlike East Asian face, wearing glasses, yet the boy's eyes carried an will utterly incongruous with his age.

Merely glancing at the corner of those eyes, the wounded Valerian felt this boy was a being more suited to war than he himself had ever been.

As if he were born the child of war itself, every talent forged for war, born to ring the death knell.

Leina, gifted with psychic sensitivity, sensed even more.

"Saint Doraemon?" Leina ventured hesitantly. "Zhou Yun?"

She faintly sensed the power and will within that body—familiar, from Saint Doraemon, from Zhou Yun.

The deathly aura emanating from the revolver was unmistakably the power of Zhou Yun, both human and Eldar Death God.

But—but

"The Emperor?" Leina asked, puzzled. "Your Majesty?"

She also sensed the Emperor's presence in that figure—the Emperor and Saint Doraemon seemed fused together.

Leina's gaze grew vacant. How could her two faiths have merged?

"Who exactly are you?" Leina could not help asking.

The cowboy-hatted figure hesitated for a moment—his eyes behind the glasses flickered between gold and metallic blue, shifting between two states.

"I am..."

The voice rose slowly—childlike in tone, yet resolute as a warrior's.

Far away in the Throne Hall, Zhou Yun opened his eyes slightly, sensing his will had moved beyond the Hall, into the battlefield.

He glanced around, slightly confused, but the power within this body quickly revealed to him all that was unfolding.

This was the battlefield. The enemy before him was Scarbrand.

The Blood God had pardoned Scarbrand, using him as a blade to slaughter this world.

And this body—Zhou Yun's new, personal Daemon—

Chaos God of Lust had become the flowered rope; the Eldar Death God had become the ringing death knell revolver; the Old Hag's Sword, conduit of Death God's power, had become the bullets; and the Emperor's severed self had formed this new Daemon's body.

He was Zhou Yun's Daemon—and the Emperor's Chosen. He was—

A faint, confident smile curled his lips:

"I am... Gunslinger Daxiong."

The moment he spoke the name, ripples surged across the battlefield before the Lion's Gate, across the endless sea of blood, even through the Warp.

This body pulsed with immense power—from Lust, from Inard, from the Human Emperor.

So potent that even Scarbrand's eyes burned with exhilaration, as if he had finally found a worthy opponent.

No—not merely Scarbrand's madness thrilled. The Blood God himself thrilled.

The God of War roared low, and the Brass Fortress trembled.

The Blood God sensed two powers within the body, two wills.

Two incarnations—two beings utterly worthy of his battle.

He felt a battle worth his eternal memory unfolding before him.

Strong against strong. God against god. Incarnation against incarnation. War against war.

"Let us settle this fairly, Scarbrand."

"No—Blood God Khorne. Let us settle this between us."

Khorne's blood surged.

One against one. One kills one. Blood for blood.

"Gunslinger Daxiong," Khorne growled the name, accepting the challenge.

He did not understand how Saint Doraemon and the Emperor had created such a being—he even felt envy.

This form, seemingly born solely for war, yet appearing no more than a dim-witted, childish child.

Useless in every way—yet first in gunmanship, peerless in valor.

Compared to this, Khorne almost despised Scarbrand.

He despised this coward who dared only to strike from behind. Had Kabanha and Angoras not been utterly destroyed, Khorne would never have pardoned Scarbrand.

Yet the Emperor and Saint Doraemon had forged such a perfect incarnation.

"Parenting material added."

"Parenting program: Child behavioral correction and re-education progress: 89%."

Zhou Yun stared blankly at the one-percent increase in parenting progress.

Blessing? The Blood God blessed Daxiong? What the hell is wrong with him?

Khorne was the God of War, the God of Murder, the God of Savagery, Hatred, Destruction, Rage—all extreme emotions belonged to him.

Yet on another level, Courage, Combat, Determination, Competition, Strength, Masculinity—all these too belonged to him.

A battle brimming with courage, masculinity, strength against strength, often drew the Blood God's attention—he would bless such a fight.

Even if the fight was a direct challenge to him—if the opponent showed courage and resolve, declaring war openly and honorably—he would grant his blessing and admiration.

Scarbrand slowly stepped back from Doraemon. The battlefield fell silent, as if only the two remained.

Rain mixed with blood fell endlessly from the sky; the clouds above writhed.

Zhou Yun, the Emperor, and Khorne all turned their gaze toward the battlefield.

Shield Captain Valerian held his breath—he saw it.

Terra's sky had been split into three parts.

Blue, red, and gold intertwined.

A long, monstrous canine face, a sightless, golden-glowing corpse, and a round, red-nosed blue raccoon-cat.

Three faces flickered in the sky like three stars, watching the battlefield.

Doraemon's fingers brushed lightly over the revolver at his waist; the Eldar Death God Inard's power flowed within.

Only three bullets remained—each forged from the Old Hag's Sword, just as it once channeled Inard's power, now channeling Zhou Yun's Warp essence, an extension of his will.

To some degree, it could also channel the Emperor's power—an extension of the Emperor's will.

Could three bullets kill Scarbrand, Khorne's chief Daemon?

Scarbrand in this state was many times stronger than Angoras. Indeed, Angoras was barely equal to the crippled Scarbrand of old.

A bestial roar tore from Scarbrand's throat; Khorne roared in the Warp in unison.

Scarbrand's mad mind held little reason—he only felt Khorne's will.

The opponent had declared war upon the Blood God.

Not by ambush. Not by betrayal. Not with cowardice.

A champion, bearing the wills of two gods, had issued a direct, honorable one-on-one challenge to him, Khorne's own incarnation.

The Blood God's only response: Kill. Kill. Kill.

Kill. Cut off his head. End his life. Offer his skull to the Blood God.

Scarbrand bellowed a primal roar. Battle-lust surged like fuel through his veins. His heart pounded, pumping out bone-chilling murder. His legs began to run.

Step. Step. Step.

Scarbrand heard only Khorne's war cry in his ears.

In an instant, he stood before the mortal figure wearing the cowboy hat.

Not so impressive, Scarbrand thought.

Then he raised both axes high—Carnage and Skullcrusher—cutting through reality with blood-curdling roars.

Scarbrand himself roared—a battle cry that reached the heavens.

Now, one swing—slice off that head.

Scarbrand was certain he had won. His soul rejoiced at the skull he would offer to the Blood God.

But—time slowed. Extremely slow. Everything seemed frozen.

No—not time. Not the world.

Only Scarbrand himself.

In the instant before Carnage and Skullcrusher would sever the head, slender flowered ropes had tightly bound Scarbrand's hands, feet, wings, waist, and both axes.

The ropes, woven from Lust's power, twisted into a tower-like structure, pinning Scarbrand firmly at its center.

"... okyo Tower."

The name of this rope-weaving technique slipped from the lips of the boy behind the glasses.

Then, the boy's finger gently pulled the revolver's trigger.

The clash of metal, fire, and bullet rang in Scarbrand's ears—like thunder.

Could three bullets kill Scarbrand?

Easily. One was enough.

His marksmanship struck true—every shot, every time.

And the bullet forged from the old woman's sword transmits the power of Inard, the power of Zhou Yun, and the power of the Emperor,

but ultimately, it transmits only the power of the Corrosive Destruction Domain,

in Skarbrand's eyes, the bullet became a black, profound, icy black sun,

BOOM!!!

The bullet pierced Skarbrand's skull like the tolling of a death bell,

yet it did not immediately kill Skarbrand—instead, it expanded, writhed, and raged uncontrollably,

the bullet transformed into an icy, profound black sun—no, it was less like a black sun and more like

a black pocket. Skarbrand had no time to scream before he was swallowed whole and plunged into it.

Only the bullet, forged from the old woman's sword, trembled in midair.

The Blood God let out a roar—furious and exhilarated—

furious that he had lost another Chief Demon,

exhilarated by the overwhelming power of the Emperor and the Doraemon avatar in this battle,

what a perfect Demon, what a perfect avatar.

The Blood God could not help but show envy,

but at that moment, he suddenly noticed—the bullet trembling in the void, the bullet forged from the old woman's sword, the bullet transmitting the Emperor's and Doraemon's power—was silently aiming at him within the Warp.

"Blood God Khorne, let us settle this once and for all."

The cowboy hat lifted slightly; beneath the glasses, a pair of eyes glimmered with intertwined metallic blue and gold light.

The Blood God suddenly understood—the bullet destined to hit was aimed squarely at him—

BANG!!!

(End of Chapter)