Chapter 474: Original-Forge Enchanted Khorne Dora Dual-Chosen Khorne

Khorne Chosen Khorne. Enchanted Khorne Chosen Khorne. Enchanted Khorne Dora Dual-Chosen Khorne. Original-Forge Enchanted Khorne Dora Dual-Chosen Khorne.

These Airebas could barely understand, accept, and interpret as Khorne seeking every possible power for revenge.

But when the chainsaw axe Bloodson, once belonging to Angron, ignited with the Emperor's psychic flame, Airebas truly felt his mind burning.

The Emperor had lent his psychic power to Khorne—a flagrant traitor—through those several sheets of parchment bearing his own handwritten name?!

If he could lend it to Khorne, why not to me, Airebas? Am I not more skilled at serving the Blood God?

He simply could not comprehend why Khorne received the favor of the Blood God, Holy Dora, and the Emperor. What did Airebas lack compared to Khorne?

Of course, Khorne gave Airebas no chance to think.

The chains linking Bloodson jolted violently; the Emperor's psychic flame spun with the chainsaw's roar, burning along the iron links toward Khorne's arm, and Khorne hurled Bloodson at Airebas's fleeing back.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

He tried to dodge, but Khorne's speed was swift—far beyond normal human capability, even faster than Airebas remembered Khorne being.

This was the combined effect of the High-Efficiency Pill and the Acceleration Gear—the blessing of Holy Dora.

The screech of the chainsaw tearing flesh and the sizzle of the Emperor's fire burning flesh sounded simultaneously.

Bloodson crushed Airebas's power armor, ripped open his back, pierced the black carapace beneath the flesh, severed his spine, and tore through a mass of grotesquely mutated organs, exiting through Airebas's entire body.

Khorne surged his arm forward; the Emperor's flame had already spread into his flesh. The Emperor's psychic power was ultimately the enemy of demons. Khorne, deeply fused with demons and granted immense blessings from the Blood God, burned with searing pain as the flame penetrated his body.

But neither he nor Lao Mu cared for this pain.

Using the chains to transmit force, Airebas was yanked violently into the air, pulled toward Khorne, who leapt from the dissolving Nurglite demon body, his clawed feet crushing Airebas's skull midair and slamming him hard into the ground.

Airebas spat blood, twisted his head in terror to look at Khorne.

He expected to see rage, hatred, murderous intent in Khorne's eyes.

But there was nothing. Khorne's eyes held nothing.

Only idle calm, cold indifference, and black stillness.

He cared for nothing else. His soul was utterly hollow. He had once tried to fill this void with rage, but it was merely drinking poison to quench thirst.

Now he faced the intense void and self-destructive urge within himself. He stood here not because killing Airebas brought him any pleasure, but solely because the primal impulses of revenge and destruction drove him to utterly annihilate Airebas.

For a fleeting, vanishing instant, in Airebas's eyes, Khorne's black pupils seemed to burn—like a cold black sun.

"I understand Sigeismund now."

"I am the void. I am the weapon. I am nothing else. The man once named Khorne is dead. Now I am merely a tool of revenge and destruction."

"Nothing else. Only revenge."

Khorne strained his arm, pulling Bloodson through Airebas's body and wrenching it free.

"This was the lightest blow. Dedicated to Loken. He was a good warrior. He did not deserve to be killed by your vile methods."

Khorne spoke with almost genteel calm.

"No!"

"It was all fate!"

"Fated destiny! I am merely the instrument of these destinies!"

"You cannot kill me. I am the Hand of Fate. I am the Child of Chaos. I am destined to stand with the gods!"

"Your only fate is death." Khorne whispered, raising high the Bloodson, wreathed in the Emperor's flame.

"No!!!!" Airebas screamed: "Save me!"

Khorne's Bloodson roared, swinging downward toward Airebas's neck—

Shadows writhed like living things; a great blade wreathed in deep blue flame emerged from the darkness and slammed between Khorne's Bloodson.

"So it's you," Khorne growled, recognizing the origin of the shadow blade.

Khorne swung Bloodson violently, knocking aside the shadow blade, then swung again toward Airebas.

But he was delayed for a moment; Airebas rolled like a hideous dog across the ground, barely avoiding Khorne's lethal strike.

Khorne tried to pursue, but at that moment, shadows around them writhed again, engulfing everything; darkness deepened instantly.

The shadow lord—black, horned, winged—flickered in and out of the dark; his blade clashed repeatedly against Khorne's axe. Khorne held his ground, even gaining momentum, fueled by the Emperor's flame burning on Bloodson.

Sweeping, smashing, thrusting, crushing, breaking armor, slashing—Khorne wielded Bloodson with every strike lethal, every motion devoid of excess.

He was hollow, stripped of all superfluity, leaving only the act of revenge.

The shadow blade was flung away with force; the shadow lord, unable to dodge, took a deep gash across his chest, from which dark flames erupted.

The shadow lord realized he could not easily defeat Khorne and chose another strategy.

Shadows swelled and writhed violently; the darkness that had always surrounded the shadow lord—and now enveloped Khorne—deepened further.

Then, in the blink of an eye, both the shadow lord and Khorne vanished from the cabin.

Airebas stared, face twitching, at this scene.

He knew the shadow lord had not slain Khorne—he could not do such a thing. He had merely exploited Khorne's ignorance of his power, using his own abilities and shadows to drag Khorne elsewhere, buying Airebas only a brief moment.

Why only a brief moment?

Because Holy Dora possessed a faster method of movement than either the shadow lord or Airebas. Even if Khorne were cast into endless space, that one would surely bring him back.

Airebas dared not waste even a second to heal his wounds. He scrambled, grabbed the ritual dagger from the ground, slashed a rift in midair, and lunged into it, crashing onto the bridge floor.

This startled Kosolax, for Airebas was indeed grievously wounded.

His chest was pierced; through the bloody hole, one could see the scene behind him. His organs were churned into a mess, his flesh riddled with grotesque, horrific burns, and his spine severed mid-torso, forcing him to writhe like a living maggot on the ground.

Seeing Airebas in this state, Kosolax's first thought was: Should he kill Airebas now?

But the instant this thought arose in his mind, Airebas on the ground snapped his head up and fired a searing psychic lightning bolt that exploded against Kosolax's chest, blasting him backward onto the floor.

"Foolish," Airebas sneered. He extended his single remaining hand and summoned two or three grotesque demons from the warp, shoving them into his hollow chest. These demons temporarily replaced some of his organs, allowing him to barely stand.

Kosolax, clutching his chest, struggled to his feet, staring at Airebas with a twitching face: "I haven't done anything yet."

"But your eyes revealed malice, boy. If you wish to murder someone, hide your malice. Pretend to be a good man."

Airebas sneered, turning his gaze to the churning blood pool.

Titus and Kaelen's squad were nearing the bridge—only minutes away from storming in.

His expression darkened; he turned his head toward Kosolax.

"Order your fleet to stop fighting the Blood Angels."

Airebas's voice was cold and full of malice:

"Have them target the Conqueror. Sink this Glorious Queen-class battleship."

This had been Airebas's plan from the start.

He would not leave the powerful Conqueror to Holy Dora.

But this order made Kosolax shudder, staring at Airebas in disbelief.

"What are you saying?"

Kosolax raised his voice:

"This is the great Conqueror! The mother-ship of the World Eaters! The Glorious Queen-class battleship of our Legion!"

"This is our throne, our blood, our home."

"And Captain Sarin's soul is bound to it!"

"You—"

Airebas coldly glanced at Kosolax; Kosolax's voice instantly dwindled.

The Hand of Fate felt irritation. He had no time to waste. If Lu Xiusi hadn't delayed long enough, leaving Airebas still unmastered by these World Eaters, why would he need this insignificant Kosol—what was his name again?

Airebas never cared for the names of minor figures. They had no place in the gods' ordained fate.

"Now. Immediately. Order the sinking of the Conqueror." Airebas commanded Kosolax in an unyielding tone.

This insignificant coward surely wouldn't dare—

"No," said Kosolax.

(End of Chapter)