Kings Don't Meet Kings

The Khorne's Daemon World, a place of utter terror to all living beings, is as comforting as home for Mordred.

Contrary to the stereotype of chaos and disorder, although Chaos God are born from the chaotic and disordered Warp currents, since they possess thought, they cannot be completely disordered.

As the strongest of the Four Merchants, Khorne has arguably benefited greatly from the current version's advantages, since war is the most common theme in this world.

Whether it's the distant War in Heaven, or the current chaotic battles in the Milky Way, even the Sea of Souls is constantly at war; it's truly a place where survival is impossible without fighting.

As the saying goes, blood doesn't ask where it comes from, and skulls don't ask where they come from. Khorne's authority is extremely broad, encompassing everything related to war, even video game battles.

You can say that Khorne is synonymous with slaughter, but he is also the God of Courage; you can also say that Tzeentch is the Lord of Change, but you cannot deny that hope can arise from change.

This is the Chaos Gods, an abstract entity that encompasses both good and bad; unfortunately, it's difficult for one to learn good but easy to learn bad.

If we compare the Chaos Gods to a balance scale, with positive emotions on the left and negative emotions on the right, then the negative emotions are weighed down by a Big Stomach Bag like Ryoko's, while the left side only has a clump of cotton.

Don't argue that one ton of cotton equals one ton of good grain. This isn't some abstract math problem for Xiaoming, Xiaogang, and Xiaohong. That cotton is just a single strand, and it took countless years to gather. It's not a mass harvest of cotton by a black, self-propelled farm tool.

Even so, the styles of the Greater Daemon differ greatly depending on the properties of the Chaos God to which they belong.

In places like Slaanesh, there are banquet halls, palaces, basements, and the like. The overall style is extremely luxurious and decadent, and everywhere there are extremely depraved sadists and masochists, as well as mentally ill people.

On the other hand, the style of Nurgle is associated with corruption, with forest swamps, large wooden stakes, fungi, worms, and cesspools. If you're lucky, you might even get to visit the gas chamber and maybe even get to rub some soap on yourself.

As for Tzeentch, there's no need to even think about it. He has all sorts of abstract structures, like crystal gems, glacial labyrinths, and the Great Library. He's at the top of the Chaos Daemons' hierarchy of contempt and looks down on all Daemon with the same disdain, considering them all idiots, especially those red-skinned brutes who don't even know the nine uses of Psychic Power. They're the stupidest of the stupid, the kind of fools who could be put in Museum.

But is that really the case? The answer is no!

While it might be inappropriate to describe him as the god of war, Khorne is indeed the most enlightened of the Chaos God. He never questions the past and uses anything as long as it works, since the development of war is an extremely important aspect.

Don't assume that the red-skinned brutes aren't smart; on the contrary, the Khorne Daemons have the highest number of Daemon Engine equipment among all Daemon factions, and their various war machines completely outclass the other three. They have always been the biggest financial backers of Vashtorr.

Moreover, red-type characters may seem reckless, but they not only have high stats but also strong mechanics. The fact that they can weaken enemies with long-range fire means that unless you have overwhelming firepower, the best way to kill them is still close combat.

The problem is that Daemon have high stats. Even if they sneak into the real world and are suppressed by the Physical Laws to become bottom-tier characters, they Daemon, not some disco with eight times the protein of beef.

And more importantly, Daemon aren't stupid; they're just insane, not dumb. On the contrary, the Daemon that can survive in the Warp spells.

Even if you let a pig live for 48,000 years, making it the same age as Emperor, it would still be the greatest pig of all. Calling it a "Piggy Hero" wouldn't be an exaggeration.

As humans occupied the galaxy and became the dominant race, coupled with the fact that although human racial stats were not high, the average number of people worshipping gods and their extremely fast reproduction rate, they continued to thrive.

When it comes to the slaughter of humanity, humans are absolutely the most qualified to speak. There are very few races in the entire galaxy that are so insane, which has led to the Warp, or rather, the Four Merchants that focus on the galaxy, being deeply affected as well.

Unlike his fleeting glimpse ten thousand years ago, Mordred, who came to the Realm of Slaughter as a visitor, was in no hurry and could carefully observe this terrifying land of slaughter.

Passing through the Gate of Wrath, forged entirely of blood-stained brass, and treading the Road of Blood inlaid with skulls, amidst the cries of countless Daemon slaughtering their way through the Hellfire Wall, one finally arrives at the boundless Brass Fortress.

Perhaps because the Khorne kidnapped Omega and Angron, Khorne's Daemon World has become incredibly urbanized, even having internet access.

Mordred had seen more than a few times a group of Daemon huddled together fiddling with terminals, and when they couldn't win, they would start drawing their knives and hacking at each other, using physical means to defeat their opponents.

Even worse, some people staged a victory parade, randomly selecting lucky audience members from among the Daemon for a survival game, shouting that they could never repay the Blood God's kindness, while dying from 88 stab wounds, all of which were in the front.

There Daemon everywhere, and the audience was practically all bloodthirsty. Even the sky was raining fire, which would randomly kill one lucky person.

But for some reason, after seeing the chaotic dance of these demons, Mordred felt a pang of nostalgia. He suddenly missed his Burning Legion; his own bunch of silly Daemon were much more entertaining, and they could even put on a show of three Nagornosaurus Rex in one go.

"Your Highness, from now on, come here as if you're coming home. Please don't be shy. Putting aside everything else, I, Angrath, am the number one Greater Daemon under the Blood God. If you need anything from me, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Then let's curse the Khorne together."

"Oh no! Your Highness, you must be joking. Aren't you trying to get me into trouble? I need that divine power right now."

It was clearly just a projection of consciousness that could be shattered with a single slap, yet Angrath acted quite obsequiously. After all, in this Blood God's Domain, who didn't know that Mordred was their god's illegitimate son?

What's that saying again? Blood doesn't ask where it comes from, skulls don't ask where they come from, but conversely, the more magnanimous a person seems, the more petty they are.

Angrath knew his own god was notoriously a sore loser, extremely stubborn, and vengeful!

Back then, Skarbrand was a coward and got tricked by the Tzeentch birdman. His fate was truly miserable. Not only was he banished from the Demon Realm, but he also suffered social death. Even that lowly succubus could call Skarbrand a piece of trash, saying that she wouldn't even serve him.

And the one on top of its head is even more bizarre. Anyone with eyes can see that its appearance, its fur color, and that perfectly replicated red scarf—who would believe it's not an illegitimate child?

The only difference is that Blood God is a red-skinned Khorne, while Mordred is an orange-skinned Khorne; their mouths are exactly the same.

Because Mordred won the resurrection match, those lost memories resurfaced. Even veterans like Angrath remembered the Legion Demon who were completely indifferent to souls and specifically preyed on them.

Upon thinking of this, Angrath couldn't help but ask, "Your Highness, are you a god?"

"I'm not a god!"

As if satisfying some kind of gossipy impulse, Angrath continued, "Then, Your Highness, did you return home this time to seek peace and apologize to our god?"

"What the hell are you talking about? You want me to apologize to that bastard? Does he even deserve it? I will never apologize in my life. I did nothing wrong. The dog is the one who's wrong."

Before Angrath could finish speaking, Mordred punched him right in the eye socket, instantly turning him into a one-eyed Sunburned Ogryn.

But instead of being angry, Angrath was secretly pleased. After all, the eye wasn't really blind; it would grow back in a moment. He had asked his Blood God before, and the other party had said the same thing, even in the same tone.

But the thought that such a fussy deity was actually its own boss, and that His Highness was exactly the same, made it feel pathetic. Then it thought of that extremely stubborn, the Cursed, despite the obvious facts, insisted that he was human.

That's perfect, absolutely perfect. That's how human gods are; if they don't stick to their guns, they're not authentic. And Your Highness is at least a top-tier human god, with extremely pure blood.

Those who can chat with Mordred aren't exactly respectable demons. Mordred's bloodline may or may not be pure, but Angrath's bloodline is definitely not pure.

In a short while, the emperor was more worried than the eunuchs, and they began to worry about the ownership of the inheritance between their own Blood God and the Cursed. If they were lucky, they could become a veteran minister of three dynasties.

Even if being a loyal minister of three dynasties is unacceptable, being Three-Surname Slave is not bad either. At least you have three powerful backers. Isn't that better than that idiot Skarbrand?

It was unclear from which Khorne trait this strange Daemon had split off, but Mordred was unaware of his thoughts and instead felt extremely ashamed.

And sure enough, when Angrath carried Mordred past the Brass Fortress, a whole line of Bloodthirsty Demon stood on both sides of the Glory Road to greet him.

The principle of laughing at jokes but not at people is already considered presumptuous by most people, but the problem is that Mordred, despite his self-satisfaction, is not blind.

Every single one of these Daemon stared at him with eerie eyes, as if to say, "Look, isn't that so-and-so? Oh, so-and-so? Oh, it's him!"

If you can't understand, then think about when you go home for Chinese New Year, all the aunties and uncles in the village block the entrance, while you push a small suitcase and walk past them.

Although he didn't speak, his eyes said it all, as if all the Daemon were laughing at Mordred.

"What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen Dog-men before?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than these Bloodthirsty Demons all turned their backs to the world, exposing their buttocks. If they had dared to provoke him, Mordred might have been more compliant, but instead they were incredibly cowardly and obedient, which annoyed him greatly.

Mordred wanted to yell, "Open your eyes and look! I'm not that Khorne's bastard son! Look the hell out of here!"

But there's just no magic letter!

Stop kidding me. Even if we're blind, we can still smell the scent on your scarf. Anything else to say?

When Mordred crossed the Glory Road and could see the Brass Throne, Mordred had already let go of the past. But no sooner had she appeared than she heard Khorne, hidden in the shadow of the throne, say, "Oh, so it's the Lord of Greedy Dissolution, the Lord of Serenity!"