Chapter 153: Please Go Become the Demon Prince!

Galken couldn't help letting out a joyful laugh as the Chaos Daemon of Tzeentch tore through the barrier between the Warp and the physical universe and descended into the cathedral.

Wait, why is this different from what he imagined?

Why didn't the Tzeentch Daemon he summoned pay him any attention—instead going straight for that damn kid?

A Tzeentch Daemon suddenly appearing behind him? That's a horror story.

Alvin, terrified, forgot everything else; under the effect of his bio-armor, his physical strength was amplified to its limit as he sprinted toward the Terminator.

At this moment, only the Terminator's lap could offer him a sliver of safety.

But would the Tzeentch Daemon let him escape?

"Hahaha… you can't run!"

The Tzeentch Daemon raised a hand, and psychic energy far exceeding Eta-level surged forth from the rift in the Warp.

It felt as if countless arms were dragging Alvin backward, pulling him inch by inch.

"No good—stop it!"

The Terminator's heart turned cold; he didn't know why Tzeentch had abandoned his own worshiper to snatch Alvin.

But he was certain—if this kid was taken, Sergeant Lei Meng would kick him to death.

Yet the true Tzeentch Daemon was no mere weakling like Galken, someone who could be crushed by a few Astartes using tactics.

"Get out of my way, don't disturb me!"

He bore the full blessing of Tzeentch; with a wave of his hand, waves of magic surged forth, slapping the charging Terminator against the wall of the Imperial Cathedral, then summoning from the rifted Warp the fallen Thousand Sons Legion!

Watching the Astartes whose armor burned with psychic flame, like walking corpses, the Tzeentch Daemon said coldly: "Kill them."

"Are these traitors of the Thousand Sons?!"

The Terminator veteran was horrified—he hadn't expected to encounter another traitor legion here, besides the World Eaters.

The Sons of the Thousand, originally the Fifteenth Legion, one of the nine legions that betrayed the Imperium.

Unlike other traitor legions, some among the Thousand Sons had their flesh completely vaporized by psychic forces, leaving only armor controlled by obsession and psychic energy.

Even if killed, they would quickly be resurrected by evil Chaos sorcery—no enemy was more troublesome!

And now, at this critical moment, he faced the most stubborn of psychic legions… The Terminator rallied himself, smashing several traitors with a punch, then turned anxiously to Alvin and shouted: "Regroup—retrieve the target!"

From his experience, he saw instantly: Galken was utterly insignificant!

Tzeentch's true target was the kid!

The remaining five Astartes tried to break through the Thousand Sons' Chaos Astartes to rescue the trapped Alvin.

But facing the Thousand Sons—unafraid of death, nothing but armor—even their superior tactics struggled to break through quickly.

"Wait, wait… what about me?!"

Galken stared in shock as the Tzeentch Daemon, utterly focused on Alvin, ignored him completely—a terrible feeling surged within him.

"You?"

The Tzeentch Daemon's twin hawk heads looked down with unmistakable contempt, shaking its head and letting out a sharp, mocking laugh: "Your so-called schemes are laughable to my Lord. Granting you even this much power is already His greatest mercy."

To be honest, Galken's so-called plots had never even caught Tzeentch's attention from the start.

All this nonsense, tying himself up in knots—this level of incompetence? He might as well worship Khorne.

"What?!"

Galken felt as if he'd taken ten thousand points of critical damage.

All his hard work preparing a grand scheme for the Great Lord of Change—dismissed as garbage?

In an instant, his belief shattered.

"No, impossible—this must be a lie!" Galken's face twisted in rage, screaming hysterically: "You're lying to me!"

But sadly, the Tzeentch Daemon had no patience to argue—it carried greater duties.

The Lord of Change himself had issued the command: bring this boy to the Crystal Labyrinth. Success would grant it greater power and wisdom!

Turning to the trembling Alvin, the Tzeentch Daemon smiled strangely: "Alvin Valthus, you were born to be with us. I shall take you to the Great Lord of Change—he shall grant you the title of Demon Prince!"

"To hell with you—I'm not going!"

Alvin glared at the Tzeentch Daemon, yanking out his Executioner Sword from his personal space, growling as if to bolster his courage: "No one shall shake my faith—!"

In truth, he'd already screamed "Winnie, save me!" and "Emperor, save me!" a thousand times in his mind.

"Hmph. You have no choice."

The Tzeentch Daemon spoke no more; immense psychic energy bound Alvin, locking him in place.

"Let him go!"

From afar came the Terminator's roar—he had forcibly pushed through psychic storms and the Thousand Sons' encirclement, reaching the Tzeentch Daemon's front.

His power gauntlets roared beyond their limits, swinging with afterimages straight toward the Daemon!

Caught off guard, the Tzeentch Daemon was actually struck.

Its massive frame staggered back several steps, feeling pain for the first time in ages; its twin hawk heads glared with cold fury at the Terminator.

But to reach the Tzeentch Daemon, even the Terminator's formidable defenses had been carved with grotesque, horrific wounds by the Thousand Sons' Chaos armor!

"Quick, kid!"

The Terminator stretched out his hand desperately, trying to grab Alvin.

But… half a step short!

"You—won't!" How could the Tzeentch Daemon allow him to steal its prize right before its eyes?

It swung its crystal scepter; a storm of blood-red energy erupted, carrying psychic currents from the Warp and hurling the Terminator away!

Alvin had just taken half a step when suddenly his body felt as heavy as a thousand tons!

Each step drained all his strength; it felt as if mountains pressed upon him—he broke into a cold sweat instantly.

A vast shadow loomed behind him, accompanied by cold, chilling taunts: "Boy, no one can save you. Give up…"

As it spoke, a massive psychic shock surged into his mind, knocking Alvin unconscious.

The Tzeentch Daemon's claw-like hand easily seized Alvin, letting out a triumphant sneer; its twin hawk heads turned with mocking eyes toward the Terminator.

Then it turned and strode boldly into the rift torn open in the Warp, leaving only the Terminator's furious, helpless roars echoing through the cathedral's vaulted ceiling!

Another day of ten thousand words—feeling drained…