Chapter 646: No More Dreams

Duat Star System,

in this system once the site of Zhou Yun’s battle with the Silent King, no stars or planets remain; all matter within the system has been condensed by Orykan, who ascended to star-godhood, into a single massive rocky planet.

The physical laws near this rocky planet have been altered by Orykan, allowing it to maintain immense mass while still existing normally.

Above this planet’s orbit, necron tomb-ships from across the galaxy hang like brilliant emerald crescents in the heavens, containing the majority of the necrons from the entire galaxy.

The vastness of the universe is always awe-inspiring; disregarding all other factors and considering only spatial scale, even Terra’s landmass could accommodate trillions upon trillions of people, and this planet beneath Zhou Yun’s feet, fused from an entire star system’s matter, has a surface area tens of thousands of times greater than Terra’s—more than sufficient to house the entire population of the Human Empire, let alone the necrons.

The mass of life in the galaxy is thus insignificant, yet these seemingly negligible lives can determine the galaxy’s fate, twist the course of stars, destroy suns, exterminate systems, burn the galaxy, and even lift a god into being.

Of course, commanding so many necrons to land on a single star system is an exceedingly complex task,

fortunately, Zhou Yun controls the master protocol of the necrons; his commands directly manipulate every individual necron, making them move as if they were his own fingers.

As for the specific planning, Zhou Yun delegated it to his beloved Regent, Guilliman,

isn’t that extraordinary mind of his meant for exactly this kind of work?

Give him more burdens—he’ll stop obsessing over writing that damn Imperial Codex. The Empire doesn’t need that many people to defecate, nor that much toilet paper.

Zhou Yun had tallied over twenty thousand dreams of Guilliman and found that Guilliman’s probability of corruption inversely correlated with his workload: the more work he had, the lower his chance of corruption.

In one dream, during which the Emperor fell silent, Zhou Yun’s physical body was destroyed, the clone of Fulgrim was corrupted, and Dante perished body and soul, Guilliman bore the entire Empire’s burdens,

under these conditions, despite the combined corruption attempts of the Four Gods, he did not fall—instead, he forced the gods themselves to do his work, trying to carve even a single crack into his mind.

“I know you’re desperate, and I know you want to corrupt me, but first, help me finish my work.”

“I’m too busy to fall.”

Get to work, Brother Thirteen—overtime is your lifelong blessing; in your next life, I’ll send you to farm.

Zhou Yun thought silently in his mind.

He sat now atop a rocky ridge jutting from the ground, squinting gently as he felt the tranquility brought by sleep.

Of all his abilities, Zhou Yun loved most the power of hyper-speed sleep.

This ability allowed him to ignore his surroundings and instantly slip into a silence as profound as death.

It was thanks to this power that Zhou Yun’s mental state remained consistently stable.

Sleep is a rehearsal for death; this ability likely originated from the Realm of Entropy, from the Dark King.

At that moment, a crisp sound of time and space tearing echoed beside Zhou Yun’s ear; a steel hoof stepped onto the ground, arriving instantly upon the planet Duat.

Metallic wings sliced through the aether; eyes burning like furnaces fixed upon the sleeping Zhou Yun.

The visitor was not in a hurry, calmly waiting for Zhou Yun to awaken from sleep.

Five minutes and twenty-two seconds later, Zhou Yun slowly opened his eyes and looked at Vashthor standing beside him.

Vashthor nodded in greeting, and a cascade of documents flew from his fingertips, swirling around Zhou Yun and weaving into a contract.

“This is my sincerity.”

“If you cease competing for the throne of the Omnissiah, I will share with you all the power of that position.”

“I will guarantee my actions cause no harm to humanity; I will grant humanity war machines beyond imagination; I will fully open the Domain of Malice to you—you may use its power at will.”

“Moreover, you may command me to use the Omnissiah’s power to accomplish nearly any task; I will obey absolutely, so long as you cede me the throne of Malice.”

This was Vashthor’s final offer.

He came to ascend as a god, yet he would open the power of the Domain of Malice to Zhou Yun, obey his commands, and serve the human race.

In Vashthor’s view, these were precisely what Zhou Yun sought:

power, authority, and the future of the human race—all Vashthor was willing to give Zhou Yun.

“You should understand that ascension is not a good thing; the ascended become both the final and the first sacrifice, one upon the altar; one misstep leads to eternal ruin, and you cease to be yourself.”

“For a being from the material universe, the risks of ascension are too great. Let me bear that terrible fate—you share the power of the Domain of Malice instead.”

“If you know this, why do you pursue ascension so urgently?” Zhou Yun opened his drowsy eyes, staring at Vashthor.

“I do not seek ascension—I merely wish to rise to a height where I may glimpse the truth of the world, and use that knowledge to create more creations.”

Vashthor’s expression remained unchanged, only the mechanical hum of his body intensified:

“I was born amid the chaotic fires of the War in Heaven, born from the most malicious and terrifying creativity; those forces constantly sought wilder knowledge and more horrific creations.”

“And at my birth, I was already as I am now—looking left and right, unaware why I was born, why I exist, or what I must do; behind me, no past; ahead, no future; all is simultaneous present in my eyes.”

“Within my form remains only one primal impulse: craving more knowledge, craving to forge stronger creations, craving the unbridled release of my creativity.”

“I care not where my creativity is used, nor where my knowledge is applied, nor how others exploit my creations—I seek only more creativity, more knowledge, stronger creations. For this, I must ascend.”

“Sign my contract—we may each seek what we desire.”

“You are a rational, logical being—rare in the Warp,” Zhou Yun lifted his head slightly, turning to look at Vashthor, whispering: “If so, you must also understand your chances are vanishingly small.”

“Even when I begin my ascension, the Emperor must devote most of his power to resist pressure from two realms; even if Nurgle and Slaanesh are held back by Tzeentch and Khorne, you are still no match for me.”

“I have Guilliman, I have Sanguinius, I have Leman Russ, I have the clone of Fulgrim; you have only Perturabo and Magnus, who is no longer fully under Tzeentch’s control.”

“I have Orykan—he has not fully recovered yet, but if the situation turns dire, he can forcibly ascend again as a star-god. How will you oppose a new yet complete star-god?”

“Therefore, I seek to resolve our differences through negotiation and contract, not through foolish direct confrontation,” Vashthor said slowly, bowing slightly to Zhou Yun.

“What if I refuse your contract?” Zhou Yun said softly.

Vashthor’s body stiffened, then shook his head: “Then I shall regret it—I must choose a desperate, final gamble.”

“That is neither rational nor logical; mathematically, your expected outcome in opposing me is a net loss.”

“My composition makes me more rational and logical than other Warp entities—but this is merely surface. The essence of any Warp entity is extreme.”

Vashthor lowered his voice; his furnace-like eyes flickered several times, then he spoke:

“Precisely because I am rational and logical, I understand that reason and logic are tools to achieve goals—not goals themselves.”

“Your bloodline must originate from the Dragon Kingdoms of Terra’s homeworld; your ancestors once spoke words that left a deep impression on me.”

“If one hears the Dao in the morning, one may die content in the evening.”

“To hear it is to live in harmony, die in peace, with no lingering regrets.”

“If I cannot hear the principle of all things, how can I live in harmony? How can I die in peace? With such bitter regrets, how could I not fight?”