Chapter 540

The Tesseract Vault stood on the Plague Heart, silently observing the flow of fate through space-time.

Space-time is like a delicate membrane, with reality carried on the membrane and the Warp reflected beneath it. Fate is the short ripples produced on space-time. These ripples gather together to form surging waves.

But in the galaxy today, the waves outlined by these ripples are so complex and changeable that even the Tesseract Vault, formed by the essence of Old One technology, cannot see clearly many things.

It saw a poisonous snake stick out two heads, one fallen and evil, one noble and proud. The fallen one tried to drag the noble one to fall into indulgence and pleasure together, while the noble one resisted desperately, trying to change back from a poisonous snake to a phoenix and spread its wings to fly high. The prouder he was, the less he wanted to fall, but pride itself was the trigger for the fall.

It saw a killing machine raging, a shameless thief stole his warhammer and disappeared into the galaxy.

It saw a deceiver piecing together the fragments of another deceiver, wanting to use them to deceive the ignorant Silent King, and the King was fooled just like millions of years ago.

It saw the contact between the Warp and reality cut off by the roaring Blackstone. That is the realm of lifeless death, without thought or life, without soul or emotion.

It also saw the puppets of the gods wailing, steel inserted into his body, he cursed the traitors, but was eventually locked into a coffin flowing with blood.

These ripples have not yet condensed into waves, and it does not care much.

The fate it truly cares about is related to the Domain of the Machines.

The throne of the Domain of the Machines was actually forged long ago and left in that void domain that only he can go to.

It is the key made by the Old Ones to open the way to the throne's treasury, it is the door-opener of the Domain of the Machines.

It is waiting for the person holding the key to open the door. This is its mission.

But there are many candidates who can open the door.

The Blood-Drinker of the Stars, the God of the material universe, is being sealed, and He also has no right to wear the crown of the Warp.

The Destroyer of the Galaxy, the God of the human race, is sitting on the throne, He has been crowned with the crown of erosion and destruction.

The new existence of deep blue, the God of unknown origin, is still hesitating, He is unwilling to be crowned with the crown of the machines.

And these three, either cannot or will not, have never tried to come before the Tesseract Vault.

Only one is chasing the traces of the Tesseract Vault and is about to appear in front of the Tesseract Vault.

The Tesseract Vault stood on the Plague Heart, raised its head slightly, and looked into the Warp.

The torrents of the Warp surged and roared, and the steam and electric sounds of the countless Daemon Engines roared incessantly.

Endless cables spiraled, pipes intersected, and logic engines roared. That is a domain shaped by the imagination of all sentient beings in the entire galaxy.

When any race uses their wisdom to polish a branch into a sharp weapon or knock a rock in the river into a blade, they have a connection with that domain. Every creation and every construction of theirs is constantly distorting, influencing, and reshaping this domain.

The Soul Forge, a domain in the Warp that does not belong to any Chaos God. This is a factory that produces all kinds of vicious creations, a steel purgatory that enslaves daemon craftsmen, and a gathering place for those twisted creative forces.

And the master of this domain looks like a group of thin twilight, sparks of inspiration and lightning of creativity constantly flashing from it, like the neural signals constantly flashing in the brains of intelligent creatures.

He is thinking at all times, observing at all times. He gazes at countless points in time. In the real universe, these points in time have a before and after, but in his eyes, they exist synchronously. His thoughts, will, and concepts are like heavy hammers constantly beating different points in time, splashing sparks of inspiration.

Now, the Master of the Soul Forge cast his gaze toward where the Tesseract Vault and the Plague Heart were.

So he began to mobilize the gears of the Warp and the gears of reality to couple, adjusted his own frequency to a fixed form, and then injected his consciousness into that shell, entering the real universe.

The scene of the Warp dissipated and shattered in front of the Tesseract Vault, leaving only one figure.

That figure spread its metal wings like blades, its body purple and gray, like a deformity produced by hard work in a radioactive factory. He had claws in one hand, a warhammer in the other, and a pair of hideous scarlet eyes looking at the Tesseract Vault.