Chapter 595

The brown-skinned boy danced barefoot through the scorched wheat field, singing a haunting melody:

"Holding the golden ring, He asked with cunning: "

"—'Tell me, First Return Child, if I shrink to a worm and hide within this ring, will you still find me?'"

Before the brown-haired boy, a towering bald man danced with him, swinging his warhammer as if fighting beside him, yet also against him, singing in a boisterous voice:

"The First Return Child answered with an unreadable expression: 'Even if you become a single grain of salt in the ocean, I will find you.'"

The brown-haired boy smiled and continued singing: "The Lord of Mankind laughed: 'You always speak in riddles. Tell me—do you truly see me?'"

"'When I shed my golden armor, lay down my crown, and am no longer Emperor?'"

"I see you."

The bald man replied with a resounding song:

"I see you!"

"In the silence of breath and exhalation!"

"In the fleeting blink beneath hidden tears!"

"In the glimmer of waves before they shatter!"

"In the cosmic hush after the conch's echo fades!"

The Lord of Mankind fell silent. The brown-haired boy continued singing, his voice clear as a woman's: "Gently, he lifted her golden ring."

The brown-haired boy slipped the golden ring onto the bald man's finger: "It is yours, Centaur."

Watching this, a Blood Angel warrior could no longer contain himself and asked his squad leader:

"My lord, must we endure these damned Eldar clowns?"

"They are 'Psycho-Enhanced Subhumans' clowns," the squad leader replied, his face twitching. "These bastards claim the audience is an essential part of their play—and we are the perfect spectators."

Watching the one claiming to be the Emperor, Xiang Leina the Curtain-Walker, dance with the bald man clearly representing Horus, the Blood Angel squad leader clenched his fists.

Worse still, he had to admit that in Xiang Leina's performance, he truly saw a glimpse of the Emperor himself.

As if the Emperor had truly manifested through the Eldar's play, upon Xiang Leina's form.

This left the Blood Angels with the expression of vampires who had bitten a Nurgle worshipper.

At that moment, a blinding radiance appeared on the horizon,

its brilliance like molten gold, yet bringing not solemnity or grandeur, but a dead calm, stillness, and an urge toward self-destruction.

"The Dark King," Xiang Leina the Curtain-Walker murmured, gazing at the approaching warp energy, her body trembling slightly.

Whether it was fortune or misfortune for humanity,

misfortune, for their race gave birth to the most absolute destruction—the Dark King born from endings and death,

if the Eldar still had hope against Slaanesh, humanity had only one fate before the Dark King: total annihilation as sacrifice.

Yet humanity was fortunate,

for the Dark King refused ascension, seated himself upon the Golden Throne, restraining and sealing himself, trapped between life and death, frozen at the final threshold of apotheosis.

This fortune was for humanity alone—it allowed them to endure as galactic overlords for ten thousand years,

but for all other races in the galaxy, it was utter darkness,

for ten thousand years, humanity, as galactic masters, drowned in a vortex of destruction and self-destruction, their emotions perfectly nourishing the Dark King, making his power grow ever stronger,

though the Eldar had once been galactic overlords too, their population was too small, and their descent into extreme hedonism lasted only a brief span compared to their race's history, making Slaanesh the weakest of the gods,

but the Dark King, forged by ten thousand years of human suffering, had not even fully been born yet—and already he crushed Slaanesh and Nurgle, surpassed Tzeentch, and rivaled Khorne, who had been fed by endless war,

should he truly awaken, even the gods could not stop him—they could only watch as he destroyed all things.

Humanity had kidnapped the entire universe, forcing even the warp gods to tread carefully, lest the Emperor rise from his Golden Throne and obliterate everything.

This was merely a slow, agonizing death—the Lord of Mankind would eventually break, unless an unexpected hope appeared,

and yet, against all odds, humanity had waited—and the hope came.

What kind of luck is this?

As an Eldar, Xiang Leina the Curtain-Walker could only envy.

Wait, no—

She was a Psycho-Enhanced Subhuman. What did she have to envy? She wasn't Eldar—she was human!

Emperor above! Saint Dora above.

Xiang Leina the Curtain-Walker drew a deep breath and prepared to face the warp tide sweeping across the entire planet,

a tide devoid of the other four gods' power—only the Emperor's searing psychic energy remained,

yet this did not make the warp tide any safer,

the psychic energy, saturated with destruction and self-destruction, pressed mercilessly upon any mind,

Xiang Leina the Curtain-Walker knew any being with basic warp knowledge would never attempt to command this force,

unless possessing an iron will, one would be shattered by its overwhelming self-destructive emotions, cracking the soul and psyche.

The play she had just performed had been an act of channeling this power through embodiment,

yet even so, as she neared the psychic tide, a crushing wave of darkness and cold surged within her,

she twisted her body desperately, forcing herself to perform, barely restraining the tide as it crashed into the black stone spire nearby,