Chapter 626: Such Pure Material-World Objects Don

The Deceiver didn’t know how to become a god of the Immaterium, but the Void Dragon had been studying the Immaterium sixty million years ago, and this bastard had secretly hoarded countless souls of lifeforms and the Fearful Dead from that era—he must have long since known what was required to become a god of the Immaterium.

The Deceiver did this not because it benefited Him, but because He was certain the Lord of Mutations wouldn’t leave Him any traps, so naturally, the Deceiver would plant traps for the Lord of Mutations—only then would it be fun.

The Deceiver imagined the expressions of those false gods within the Immaterium when the Void Dragon’s bomb detonated and stunned them.

As He pondered this, the Deceiver turned His gaze toward Tarasyn and the others fleeing through the World Engine.

A sly smile curled upon His lips—by way of celebration for His impending restoration, let us play a game of cat and mouse.

Within the Immaterium, the Lord of Mutations watched the Deceiver hunting Tarasyn and the others, and a sly smile touched His lips.

Go play a game of cat and mouse, little stellar parasite.

Though the Lord of Mutations had inspected every inch of that technology multiple times and found no trap from the Deceiver,

He was certain the Deceiver would never fail to bury a trap for Him.

The Deceiver’s credibility, whether in the Material Universe or the Immaterium, was on par with a shared bicycle that could transform into an Autobot, stand up, and beat its owner senseless.

If that was the case, how could the Lord of Mutations not bury a trap for Him too?

The Lord of Mutations spent a long time subtly hypnotizing the fragments granted to the Deceiver,

embedding within them a secret command: fixate on hunting Saint Doraemon, provoke Saint Doraemon’s wrath, and let Saint Doraemon’s hand destroy Him.

In the galaxy, deceivers are always better off in fewer numbers.

But the Lord of Mutations felt a pang of regret—he truly liked the Deceiver,

not because of mutual admiration among tricksters, but because the Deceiver was beautiful.

Could a star-god truly possess such a muscular, sculpted body?

The Deceiver’s muscles were truly magnificent; if not absolutely necessary, the Lord of Mutations truly did not wish to see such a flawless physique torn into shreds.

But, what can one do?

The Lord of Mutations sighed.

The World Engine was torn apart by roaring light and fire; the Deceiver emitted a sharp, eerie laugh, extending razor-sharp claws to shred the living-metal corridors around Him while hunting Tarasyn and the others as they fled at breakneck speed through the World Engine.

“Damn!” Thor growled.

The Deceiver had demonstrated extraordinary power: within the entire World Engine, all forms of Immaterium teleportation, pocket dimensions, and phase-shifting had been locked down; He had left only a small zone at the edge of the World Engine, permitting Thor and the others to teleport out.

In other words, this was a game—if Thor and the others ran fast enough, they could escape from the Deceiver’s grasp.

“How is this bastard stronger than before? How many fragments has he fused?!”

Tarasyn gritted his teeth, pulled several hyperdimensional cube mazes from his pocket, and hurled them toward the Deceiver.

The hyperdimensional cube mazes exploded open,

first a Tyranid Brain Tyrant emerged from the maze—its massive, shimmering cerulean brain positioned directly along the Deceiver’s path—its very arrival sensing the threat radiating from the Deceiver, it unleashed a psychic pulse strong enough to easily shred an Adeptus Astartes Librarian’s mind,

then the Bloodthirster’s colossal demonic engine, Skullmaster, a war-machine forged from the fusion of Bloodthirsters and hell-forges, let out a piercing battle cry, its lower treaded limbs whirring as they propelled the upper half—a crimson-armored warrior—swinging a battle-axe toward the Deceiver,

finally, a Tau Empire KX139 Supreme Armor, the Tau battle-suit standing firm upon the ground, deployed its weapon arrays and swiftly locked onto the Deceiver charging toward it.

The Brain Tyrant’s psychic pulse never touched the Deceiver—it dissolved into a cascade of fireworks as the Deceiver instantly altered the atoms composing its body; in an instant, the Brain Tyrant was reassembled into a giant glowing blue lightbulb.

Skullmaster met the same fate: its outer demonic engine was reshaped in a blink into a spinning carousel, the Bloodthirster crushed and bound within its wooden horses, eternally rotating and swaying under the weight of material reality.

The Tau KX139 Supreme Armor stood firm upon the ground, aiming its twin tri-axial ion cannons and a multi-barreled pulse projector array at the Deceiver.

“Warning, in the name of the Supreme Good, you must immediately—”

Boom!

The Deceiver charged straight into it—the heavy battle-suit, a crystallization of Tau Empire technology forged to counter Imperial Knights and Tyranid titans, shattered instantly, scattering debris everywhere; the Tau pilot within was reduced to ash by the Deceiver’s surface heat in an instant.

“Pure material-universe objects of this caliber don’t even deserve to breathe on me.”

The Deceiver sneered. The star-gods had been absent from the galaxy too long—wearing such crude iron junk, utterly devoid of Immaterium power, and daring to breathe on Him? Truly, they had no sense of limits.

Watching his treasures shredded in an instant, Tarasyn confirmed his suspicion: the Deceiver was far stronger than before—he had crossed the threshold, beginning to shift from fragmentation toward wholeness.

If left unchecked, the star-god Deceiver would return to the mortal realm.

“Which shameless bastard gave Him so many fragments?”

Tarasyn cursed, but fortunately, they were now nearing the edge of the World Engine.

Surprisingly, the Deceiver had honored the game’s rules—He had not interfered with any teleportation techniques here.

Zandrik reacted fastest—he flicked his phase-cloak slightly, and in an instant, he teleported everyone present back onto his flagship.

“We escaped?” Thor panted.

Logically, such a retreat should have shamed him—but facing the power radiating from the Deceiver, Thor saw no honor in clinging to pride; holding on would only mean a meaningless sacrifice.