Chapter 616

"Lyne, my second most boring brother, my beloved elder brother, do you seem to need a little help?"

That profane, lewd voice came from the void, and a flaming straight sword pierced down from above the Sun-Eater, slicing through its body as gently as water.

The black light capable of consuming stellar energy was ignited by the sword's flame, as if that flame were neither physical nor energy, but some immaterial spiritual presence.

At the instant it touched the flame, the Sun-Eater writhed in agony, thrashing its massive body as black radiance shot wildly in all directions.

The enormous tail, serpentine, eel-like, worm-like, coiled and plunged into the Webway, allowing Imotekh to see the being holding the flaming longsword.

It was a half-human, half-serpent entity, demonic in form, its lower body a plump tail covered in fine scales and elongated fins, continuously dripping translucent mucus.

Where the serpent's cloaca should have been, the skin had been peeled back and torn into eight segments, strung with gleaming metal rings into an eight-pointed star, exposing pink, fleshy tissue upon which the golden sigil of Slaanesh was inlaid, glowing with emerald-green and pink gemstones.

Its upper body was longer and more slender, like a delicate woman, clad in dark gold armor studded with jewels, extending four long arms, each gripping a curved longblade, a flaming straight sword, and a whip.

Its face was long, pale, twisted, hidden beneath strands of white, green, and purple hair, bearing the gaunt appearance of excessive indulgence; its once-beautiful features had been warped by corruption into an intensely chilling visage.

Seeing this form, Imotekh's logical mind stirred slightly.

He found the form peculiar: half-human, half-serpent, yet humans have only two arms, and serpents have none—why then did this half-human, half-serpent creature have four arms?

Imotekh suddenly recalled: serpents' genital organs appear to come in pairs.

At the same time, Imotekh recognized the demon whose genital organ served as arms.

Fulgrim, the human Chaos Daemon Primarch, the third son of the Master of Mankind who turned traitor. Or was he a son?

Fulgrim seemed to sense Imotekh's gaze; his cold, gaunt face slowly turned toward the direction of the Storm King.

His serpentine eyes gently settled upon Imotekh, and a faint, feminine smile curled at his lips.

In an instant, the Storm King saw another face superimposed over Fulgrim's.

That face was neither Ma Lei nor female, as if merging beauty from multiple planes into one visage, yet radiating a horrifying lewdness and appalling corruption.

It resembled a serpent, a fish, a worm, a goddess, a prince, a whore, a Ma Lei courtesan.

Merely by seeing that face, Imotekh realized in terror that a warmth, a hunger, an intense pleasure surged within him.

Not only Imotekh—Lord Lion Lyne El'Jonson also sensed something amiss.

"My dear lion, you…" Fulgrim appraised Lyne: "A thousand years ago, you were more handsome; now you carry a mature allure, even more enticing."

"Would you be willing to have a… brotherly exchange?"

Lyne frowned at Fulgrim's words, his gaze fixed on the gaunt face.

"You're not Fulgrim, that traitor—you're—"

"I am certainly Fulgrim, brother."

Fulgrim let out a lewd, profane laugh.

"This time, in Fulgrim, 'He' simply occupies a greater share."

"For safety's sake, to prevent accidents."

"If His beloved ally met with misfortune, that annoying Inader would crawl out again."

As he spoke, Fulgrim glanced toward the Necron fleet, stepped forward slightly, opened her throat, and emitted a piercing shriek.

The shriek echoed through the Warp, like a foul, sticky slime coating every corner it reached.

Desire, hunger, pain, pleasure, delight—these emotions spread instantly.

The Necrons, horrified, realized they were generating desire, affection, and pleasure.

Even their nearby ships began to go into heat.

The Necrons even felt that their comrades, the Necron constructs, and the ships themselves sought to strengthen themselves.

But this sensation brought them not fulfillment, but a stronger, more unbearable emptiness.

Imotekh's expression turned instantly fearful; once again, he felt clarity from being a Necron.

If he possessed the capacity for desire, if he had a soul, he would have been utterly consumed by lust in that single instant.

Imotekh could not comprehend what that being—seemingly Fulgrim—truly was, but even with the simplest logic, he understood:

It was an utterly terrifying thing, dangerously extreme, and must never be opposed.

The Storm King swiftly made his judgment and immediately ordered his forces to withdraw from the Webway at maximum speed.

Imotekh even felt the Webway itself was becoming a living, lust-filled entity, attempting to devour them.

RUN!! Must flee immediately!!!

Imotekh dared not glance again at that being, praying only that the Sun-Eater would destroy—or at least block—it.

The inertialess engines activated once more.

Imotekh's fleet accelerated instantly to faster-than-light speeds in the material universe; in the blink of an eye, he had withdrawn his forces to a distant region of space far from the system containing the Gate of Tombs.

As the lust within him slowly receded, Imotekh exhaled slightly.

Then, Imotekh offered a bitter smile.

He realized he had been driven to a corner.

The forces of his two vassal dynasties had nearly been devoured by human fleets.

His own central army had suffered damage.

The Gate of Tombs, the only escape route beyond the Deadlands, was now blocked.