Chapter 619: Your Majesty! You

A massive dark blue metal skeletal hand, glowing with dim green light, extended from the scythe and seized the metal scythe pulsing with the aura of death from the Storm King's grasp.

Black, spectral rags spiraled forth, winding around the scythe alongside the skeletal hand.

The metal scythe suddenly swelled in size, emerald lightning lashing across its blade like the solar flares of a dying star, slamming into the bland walls of the office and melting gaping wounds into them.

Amidst the howling plasma lightning, a thin, towering figure emerged—his cloak woven from living metal billowed violently, pure cosmic energy clustering around him, his dark blue metal body hovering midair, the spiraling black rags behind him forming a rotating wheel that became a hood, shrouding his face like a figure of the Death of Night.

Fear, wailing, agony, and screams filled the air; the figure stood firm in Guilliman's office, as if Death itself had returned to walk among mortals.

Far away, Xigaoqi raised his pale, crescent-moon clown face as he tended to the three Star-God shards.

This rare surviving deity among the Eldar, whose clownish visage was usually mad and mocking, now flickered with a trace of fear.

"Kaelis la."

It was an ancient name, meaning in Eldar tongue "Death of All Living Things," "Destroyer of Light," used to refer to the entity whose true name could not be spoken.

He was the First Death, the origin of all sin.

He was the ravenous slaughterer, staining the stars with blood through his scythe.

Countless stars once dense across the galaxy were extinguished by his hunger for destruction; a million thriving civilizations perished under his cruel whims.

The chilling reaper's form ravaged the stars; the terror of him was etched into the genes, the souls, and the very essence of all living beings.

A million civilizations feared death because of him; a million civilizations modeled their Death God after him—even beings untouched by the War in Heaven instinctively trembled at his name.

He is the Nightbringer Azagroth, the first Star-God to enter a living-metal body, the once-greatest Star-God, the root of the Necrontyr's short lives, one of the primal sources of all evil in the galaxy.

He was so powerful that even after being shattered into hundreds of fragments by the Necrons, he remained extraordinarily potent.

The shard released by Imotekh was a treasure of the Sothek Dynasty, a convergence of multiple Nightbringer Star-God shards, among the largest even within the Nightbringer's many fragments.

The instant he was freed, every living being—and even Necrons—within the Exorcism Dead Zone saw a cascade of death hallucinations, feeling icy fingers clamp around their throats.

On the Macragge's Glory, the Astartes and mortal servants too near the Nightbringer were instantly paralyzed by suffocating dread and the gray terror of death, frozen in place, their bodies growing cold, slipping toward death.

This was the Storm King's final trump card—but even he could not control this immensely powerful Star-God shard, and could only issue crude commands while the Nightbringer had just awakened and his will remained unformed.

Like a cold wind blowing through a winter night, the chilling aura of death surged toward Roboute Guilliman; surging plasma currents stretched like the pale fingers of Death itself toward the Regent of Mankind.

The Star-God's power traveled along the current; the touch of entropy accelerated the decay of all matter it touched—the office floor shattered into dust, documents turned to ash, Guilliman's heavy wooden desk vanished in an instant.

The Emperor's Sword ignited suddenly, blazing golden fire illuminating the gloomy room as it clashed with the roaring lightning.

Fire and lightning rippled like waves in water, while the Nightbringer became a swirling vortex of darkness, racing along the lightning to appear before Roboute Guilliman in an instant.

The Nightbringer, his body like a statue of dark blue metal, raised his long metal scythe; the aura of death froze the surrounding space and time.

The scythe fell with a hiss—reality, space, time, dimensions, energy, matter—all met death at once.

Half the office vanished in an instant; the hull of the Macragge's Glory behind it was also instantly sheared away, exposing everything to the cold void.

Guilliman, like a helpless blue pebble, was cast into the cold void without his helmet or any vacuum protection.

The Nightbringer once again became a cold, deep vortex of darkness, driven by his sadistic hunger and destructive urge, sweeping into the void to hunt Roboute Guilliman.

The Storm King stood at the edge of the vacuum; his metal body was unharmed by the void.

But Roboute Guilliman was still human—he could not survive long in the vacuum.

Even if he could endure for a time, how could he stand against the Nightbringer? How could he face the scythe of the primordial Death God of a million races?

"Regent of Mankind, I offer you my respect."

"Your logic and reason forged a mighty order—so mighty that I had to seek the power of Death itself to defeat you."

Storm King Imotekh whispered, gazing across the cold void.

Deep space was so cold and dark that the Storm King could not see Guilliman or the Nightbringer.

But he assumed Guilliman's life was nearly ended.

He shook his head slightly and took one small step forward, one foot resting upon the void.

If he could reach them in time, perhaps he could reseal the Nightbringer before he fully regained his will—

"In the past, the human Death God indeed took the form of a hooded figure wielding a scythe."

A voice suddenly sounded behind the Storm King.

The Storm King froze, turning his head slightly to see a plain human standing beside the shattered office door, leaning against the wall and watching him.

The entire office had been exposed to the void; air was rapidly escaping—yet this mortal stood beside him without any protective gear.

The human smiled at the Storm King as he turned, giving him a slight nod:

"But now, the human Death God has taken another form."