Rumble...
The Sea of Blood boiled, and as it rushed toward The Bastion of the Grey Knights, it covered another part of the Chaos Realm.
That was the arena known as Ashen Purgatory.
This sunless Wych Cult Arena was forever blanketed in thick volcanic ash that also fouled armor and blades, making them rust and decay.
Only an enemy's blood could wash away that volcanic ash and lubricate a weapon; once it grew dull, the only end was to have one's head hacked off.
More importantly, this was a place of imprisonment.
Many defeated Daemons, disgraced beings from wars, and captives were all locked away here for the Blood God and their Daemon masters' amusement.
"O Lord of Slaughter, what a tragedy that such a splendid duel has no one to appreciate it!"
The Chaos Lord, the being known as The Ashen One, sounded somewhat helpless.
The duels in this Wych Cult Arena never ended, but the Blood God had not cast his gaze here for a very long time, and even news had become cut off.
Perhaps that being had already grown tired of them, tired of this prison that had once enjoyed his favor.
Within the Blood Pit of the Wych Cult Arena, the duel The Ashen One had painstakingly arranged had gone on for who knew how long. Under the siege of Daemons, the one being tormented was a human captive.
He was a towering warrior, his silver-white armor mottled with blood, even his eyes dispirited, his will on the verge of collapse.
Without question, before much longer, the other party's will would be worn away completely, and under the corruption of Chaos, he would become a follower of the Blood God, a living machine of slaughter.
"Perhaps, once I offer this exquisite gift to the Lord