The Poison of Hope (Part 2)

A few minutes earlier.

Humanity as it now stood could not resolve this crisis, but that did not mean he could not.

After a brief pause, the artificial intelligence known as Deep Processor One displayed the message.

And he was not human.

"Ah?"

"What did that mean?"

"When you verified my identity earlier, did you already know something?"

Deep Processor One did not answer his questions. Instead, it presented him with a method of exorcism.

The method itself was equally bizarre.

Kasgar needed to place his palm on Corleon's forehead.

He had to imagine an eternal flame burning within the ever-changing Empyrean, which linked all dimensions of time and space.

Using his own power, he had to follow the anchor point torn open by that Warp Entity and enter it. Within the Warp's chaotic flow of time, he had to call upon his own projection in the Warp—whether from the past, present, or future.

And it would give him the answer.

It was pretty mystical.

It did not sound like something an artificial intelligence should have said.

Yet Kasgar did as instructed.

Then, as though something had taken over his consciousness, he successfully entered Corleon's "dream" ten thousand years in the future and used flames to erase the demon possessing Corleon.

"This really isn't something humans can do."

Kasgar swallowed and said with a bitter smile.

It was more like the handiwork of some legendary Possessed Marine—Robert Guilliman.

After being possessed by a Greater Daemon, he had "burned with every slash," cutting down even the old gardener working hard in the fields beside him until the man wept.

But Kasgar had not reached that level.

This technique of his could only be used against isolated, weak Warp Entities with no host to possess.

Still, being able to bring about a demon's True Death at its source was terrifying in itself.

Kasgar seemed far less simple than he had imagined.

The artificial intelligence before him was the same.

"Friend, how did you know I could destroy Warp Entities like this?"

"Logically speaking, your database should only have been updated through the Dark Age of Technology."

He pressed on curiously.

But the other party's display merely flickered a few times before going black, seemingly unwilling to answer that question.

Kasgar did not pursue the matter further.

If it would not answer, then so be it!

Some things really could not be investigated too closely.

What if he actually uncovered something?

The Sandstorm outside had eased somewhat.

Kasgar's exorcism ritual seemed not only to have destroyed the demon that had possessed Corleon through the Psychic Lightning, but also to have calmed the raging Sandstorm to a certain extent.

"The communicator still isn't responding."

Standing on the rusted iron staircase, Kasgar tested the device in his hand and muttered to himself.

Yet for some reason, the communications still seemed to be blocked by interference.

He guessed that the effects of the Sandstorm had not fully dissipated yet.

Still, it was no great matter. Once he got outside and climbed onto his motorcycle, he would only need a short while in the clear weather to reach Karax.

And since he had successfully drawn away both the Sulfa people's Sandstorm and their manpower, the convoy transporting the refugees would most likely be able to return to Karax smoothly without obstruction.

With that, the crisis seemed to have been completely resolved by him.

"Brother Kasgar, it's so dark here. I'm scared."

"Don't be afraid. Here, give me your hand."

Kasgar was in a very good mood.

But that good mood vanished without a trace when he reached the final platform and saw the four-armed figure waiting before the abandoned factory.

The figure was tall and powerfully built. Of its four well-proportioned, muscular arms, two held swords, while the other two ended in pincer-like claws.

Its upright body had male and female organs on the left and right sides of its chest respectively. It wore magnificent clothing and elaborate ornaments, seemingly woven from materials of unimaginable value.

A Slaanesh Daemon Prince.

Kasgar had no idea how this thing had appeared here, or why it knew where he was.

But it seemed he had no way out of this disaster.

Daemon Princes were exceedingly troublesome to begin with, not something a mere mortal like him could handle.

And that was not all.

Countless Sulfa people surrounded the abandoned factory, inside and out. His motorcycle had been destroyed, and the exits were completely blocked.

Their expressions were vacant, yet their eyes glinted with viciousness.

The remaining Sulfa people seemed to have all fallen under the Daemon Prince's control.

This was truly troublesome.

Kasgar drew his blade and stared at it grimly.

"I can't sense its presence."

The Daemon Prince's voice was neither male nor female, yet it carried a sweet, cloying comfort.

"You killed it. How did you do it?"

The demon did not rush forward.

It was afraid.

As an Unliving, as a faithful servant of the Dark Prince, even if it died, its body would be reborn in the Six Circles of Slaanesh, where it could continue its endless pleasures.

It did not fear death.

But total annihilation of its origin across every timeline—

That was something truly worth fearing.

Thus, even though it knew Kasgar appeared to be nothing more than a mortal, it did not dare advance even half a step.

"You can try it too. I don't think your ending will be any different from theirs."

Seeing its hesitation, Kasgar naturally did not let the chance to threaten it slip away.

"I won't be that... foolish."

The Daemon Prince chuckled, then ordered the mass of Sulfa people behind it:

"You lot, attack."

A despicable tactic, but an effective one.

"You two, go wait by the stairwell behind us."

"And don't peek. If I can't hold them off, run downstairs."

"Find the Thinker in the innermost room and see if it can help you."

"This is our last hope."

Facing the enemy's tidal charge, Kasgar spoke heavily to the two children.

Then, with an exceptionally precise and decisive upward slash, he swiftly cut down the foremost Sulfa person in a spray of blood.

But at the same time, even more Sulfa people surged toward him.

"Kill! Kill him!!!"

Flesh and blood flew as sword shadows flashed.

One Sulfa person after another fell beneath Kasgar's blade.

"Beautiful swordsmanship."

The Daemon Prince stuck out its tongue and licked its lips.

His battle, his technique, made it itch with desire.

It wanted to go up there right now and personally slit this formidable enemy's throat.

But it valued its own life even more.

Until it figured out how that man had annihilated a demon, it would never act rashly.

Countless fragments of Sulfa people piled up beneath his feet, and the rusty scent in the wind grew stronger.

The growth of Kasgar's swordsmanship had exceeded even his own expectations.

But no matter what, there was a limit.

The last bit of ammunition in the Ignition pistol was depleted as he swept its beam across the crowd.

Bolstered by the Slaanesh Daemon Prince, the Sulfa people feared neither pain nor death. Many of them had been formidable swordsmen to begin with. After holding out for several minutes, Kasgar's defense gradually began to strain.

He could not let even one person through.

The two children were behind him.

Clang!

Kasgar laboriously thrust his sword forward, then swiftly pulled it back to defend himself.

In such perilous circumstances, fighting alone, he had ultimately revealed an opening.

Just as he blocked the blade of another Sulfa person at his side, the next swordsman's weapon was already chopping down toward the top of his head at incredible speed.

It was over.

Despairing, Kasgar closed his eyes.

Whoosh—bzz!

A dull beam of energy yanked him back to reality.

A tall demigod clad in purple armor stood before him, tilting up her chin and smiling at him.

"Did you miss me, darling?"

Fulgrim.

She struck what she considered a very cool pose.

Then she charged toward Kasgar.

"Quick, kill her too!"

Several nearby Sulfa people rushed at her.

"You're overestimating yourselves."

She wore a confident smile.

As several afterimages of Fulgrim flashed past, the once-ferocious Sulfa people fell in unison like wheat before a scythe.

Even in death, the wounds and sprays of blood they left behind were minuscule.

Before a mighty Primarch, even the most accomplished swordsmen had no ability to resist.

The once teeming mass of Sulfa people had been reduced, beneath her miraculous swordsmanship, to countless corpses sprawled haphazardly throughout the abandoned factory.

"What kind of monster is this?"

At last, her gaze fell upon the Slaanesh Daemon Prince in the room.

But she did not care about that.

She only knew that anyone who wanted to harm Kasgar had to die.

That was enough.

"Sister, we—"

Seeing that Fulgrim had finally noticed her, the daemon prince looked delighted and tried to seduce her.

But before the creature could speak, Fulgrim's sword had already struck.

One slash.

A thin line appeared, and a head fell.

"Hop on, we're heading back to Karax."

A Primarch was truly terrifying.

Sitting on Fulgrim's purple motorcycle covered in countless gilded patterns, Kasgar held onto her as the scenery flew past his eyes, unable to keep from marveling.

"We're almost there."

As the motorcycle sped onward, Karax's pitch-black fortress gradually came into view.

At the fortress gates, a large crowd seemed to be waiting anxiously. Upon seeing them return, they erupted in cheers.

"So? Wasn't I especially amazing?"

After helping Kasgar and the two children off the motorcycle, Fulgrim bent down close to Kasgar and whispered.

The words Praise me were practically written across her face.

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Especially when you take your hand off my ass."

Kasgar answered irritably.

Fulgrim really was formidable.

It would have been even better if she had not timed her rescues so precisely, and if she would stop groping him in public.

Female hooligan.

Tch, and just as he thought that, she gave him another hard squeeze.

"What's your name?"

After arriving at the fortress, a young woman asked the two children.

In Karax, orphans would be cared for and raised by professionals, who would also teach them the scientific knowledge this world desperately needed.

"My name is Corleon!"

The girl eagerly raised her hand and answered.

"I want to be a captain someday!"

"Alright, little Corleon." Smiling, she turned her head toward the boy. "And you? What's your name, child? What do you want to become in the future?"

Me?

The boy froze.

He wanted to become a swordsman like that brave older brother. With superb swordsmanship, he would protect his little sister and earn the admiration and envy of countless people.

He would take that man as his role model until he became an unparalleled swordsman, receiving endless praise and honor, then set off with his sister toward the boundless sea of stars.

That was his hope.

As for his name?

He recalled the name he and his sister Corleon had received from the goddess in the darkness before.

"Lucius, ma'am."

"My name is Lucius."

Hope.

A remedy that let people live on—and a deadly poison that could send them to their deaths.