Thank you, Khorne!

"Oh, it's the Prince of Serenity!"

Kings do not meet kings, generals do not meet generals; the Khorne hidden in the shadow of the throne drinks blood wine alone, while Mordred also hides in the shadows, with only her mouth tube showing.

At this very moment, just as at that very moment, both were displaying their canine nature, causing all who saw them to gasp in shock, making the temperature at the throne drop by 8 degrees.

Should I not have come?

You shouldn't have come.

But I came anyway.

"So you came to see me? I can forgive you."

Upon hearing this, even though they knew it was disrespectful, all the demons still glanced at the Brass Throne. Only Angrath, the only demon with a unique advantage, stood behind Mordred and had a good view, looking at it with complete magnanimity.

Perhaps finding the question too perverse, Mordred no longer concealed his presence, stepping out of the shadows to reveal his short-legged, Khorne appearance with a red scarf and a missing ear.

"Don't make me laugh. You Khorne, instead of learning from Slaanesh, why don't you take a piss and look in the mirror? You think you can forgive me? You don't deserve it."

You insulted me?

"I'm cursing you!" Mordred not only cursed, but also took advantage of the situation, not caring at all whose territory this was. He even dared to beat up his own father, and that Yellow Skins would still say "good job beating him."

"You're the one who tricked me back then. You ruined my plans. If you hadn't listened to the nonsense of the Tzeentch birdman, I wouldn't have suffered for ten thousand years. Look at the state I've become now. It's all your fault."

Do you know what I'm going to do? Do you know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to build a powerful empire where both the visible and the invisible can be united, and I've even reserved a place for you."

"I've left some for you too. You have no idea how much I want you. I've even acknowledged you as my offspring, so that you can share my blood and glory."

And what about you? You've always rejected my kindness. I raised you, and I've supported you no matter what you wanted, yet you followed that despicable the Cursed. You didn't even dare to show your true form, only a projection."

"You're talking nonsense! You short-sighted idiot."

As long as the Webway Project succeeds, and as long as Yellow Skins and I clean up the entire galaxy, then I can execute the second step of the grand plan.

Based on the Galactic Empire, I will operate an artificial Morality that transcends worlds and races; even Daemon will embrace "love and peace" under my control.

When that time comes, whether it's you, me, Tzeentch, Nurgle, Slaanesh, or my bunch of silly brothers, you can all join my Burning Crusade.

Purify everything with flames, let the entire Sea of Souls Burning Fiercely, optimize away all that is bad, rotten, and corrupt, and purify the entire Warp.

Everyone is born to go to heaven, and I could have led you all into heaven, giving you glory, courage, wisdom, life, and beauty.

But you guys just had to mess all of this up!

Now you say you want to forgive me? Have you lost your mind, you Khorne? Are you out of your mind? Since you said I dared not show my face to anyone, what about now?

Burning Fiercely, emerald-green evil fire boiled from Mordred's body, and as he expounded his grand plan, an indescribable will descended upon the Brass Throne.

A black, slimy substance, resembling blood and oil, spread from behind the diminutive Dog-men, summoning his true form, which had never been revealed to anyone.

As 55,555 eyeballs opened from the mucus, and 5,555 Great Maw murmured inexplicably, 55 Daemon demons screamed, blinding themselves and rupturing their eardrums, turning into boiling flesh and blood under the emerald green evil fire, tearing open a pitch-black rift.

In an instant, a gigantic black slime, crowned with a laurel wreath of evil fire and formed from a fusion of mycelium, flesh, and jet-black tentacles, flowed out from the crack.

This is Mordred's true form, an indescribable, grotesque thing. Just witnessing it would cause all intelligent life to wail in despair, dragging them into an abyss of utter folly from which they could not escape.

Fortunately, Mordred firmly believed that she was human. Her true form only appeared for a moment before disappearing again, transforming into a large, blond man in a vest, trench coat, and slippers with a long tail and bone spurs.

The biggest poison Old Mo brought to posterity was his terrible fashion sense. Even Daemon wouldn't approve of it. He was so powerful when he first appeared, so why did he turn out like this? I don't want to see him!

But none of that matters. Even if 55 unlucky souls die, the Daemon, who's always enjoying the gossip, doesn't care. As long as he can have his gossip, he'd Kiya let them die.

Their eyes met, and now Mordred had truly arrived in her true form. At this moment, just as before, faced with Mordred's questioning, the Khorne lost his temper and simply said, "You're wrong. This path simply won't work."

"I did nothing wrong! Goda, I know you're still alive, you are Goda, aren't you?"

Have you forgotten all those days? In 1988, amidst wind and rain, with Gold Ring and the Canes Venatici, we ended the enslavement of the sheep tribe together, built the Wolfkin Empire together, and ran freely across the grasslands.

You can't fool me, you are Goda. Do you think I can't see the Wolf Claw Mark on the back of that Brass Throne?

This is Klara, this is the former homeworld of the werewolves, you----"

"Shut up! Goda is dead, everyone is dead. There is no Goda here, only me, Khorne!"

Enraged, the Khorne no longer felt pain in his leg and launched himself forward, delivering a powerful punch to Mordred's face, reducing the entire Glory Road to ruins.

But the Khorne regretted it after the fight. He had only taken two steps when a thick, sharp claw emerged from the ruins, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him into the Brass Throne.

"Does the Blood God bleed? Macragge, you know what I mean."

Mordred, in her behemoth form, possesses brute strength, while Khorne is synonymous with slaughter. Even though Mordred is no match for Khorne at this moment, her thick hide and tough flesh are undeniable.

Blood was flowing, flesh was splattering, the thick chitinous carapace along with the spine was torn off, and pieces of scarlet fur were also ripped off.

The two incredibly destructive monsters were locked in a fierce battle, exchanging punches and claws without any finesse, just a brutal and savage fight that wouldn't stop until they were fighting.

When words fail to communicate, brutal hand-to-hand combat becomes the ultimate solution.

While the two monsters had a great time fighting, the onlookers suffered terribly. Many Daemon who couldn't dodge in time were crushed into mincemeat and then eaten as snacks by Mordred, who was at a disadvantage.

"This is mine."

"Shut your dog mouth, I found this. Look! It's Yellow Skins doing a striptease."

Although the Emperor could never appear here, nor could he possibly perform a striptease again, even the Chaos God, after opening his heart to Mordred, was inevitably tainted by Chaos Energy Corruption.

With just a moment's hesitation, Khorne Mordred the opportunity, his Great Maw swirling outwards, splitting into five petals like flower petals, and with his wildly rotating inner molars, he bit down on Khorne's head.

Ah~

With one ear bitten off, Khorne used his claws to tear Mordred in two on the spot, his internal organs and offal gushing out onto the ground. There were even two other Daemon that hadn't finished digesting their food and were left with only half a life.

But Mordred is not human in essence; a mere fatal wound is nothing to him.

The Gundam Fragment that hadn't yet fallen transformed into fleshy tentacles, which then transformed into a thick snake tail that wrapped around the Khorne's torso. Mordred, taking advantage of his superior number of hands, began to frantically claw at the Khorne.

Mordred is no match for Khorne now. Even if he doesn't die, he'll have to pay a price to win the resurrection match and return everything he devoured in this world.

Fighting a base Primarch is one thing, but once a Primarch awakens their true nature, he can only rely on stats and health bars to wear them down. Mortarion, who has become the Lord of Gloom, is the upper limit he can currently match.

Although Mordred always said he was a powerful being who embodied all the best qualities of the Primarchs, conversely, he was also a garbage can that embodied all the worst qualities.

He also has the same personality flaws as the Primarch, but they are covered up by his silly antics. These include the stubbornness and impulsiveness that all Primarchs have, as well as his pettiness that he would never admit to.

Completely enraged, Mordred didn't care whether he could win or not; he just went for it.

The undead, mutated the Beast Khorne kill Mordred with a single slap, but within his own demonic realm, Khorne was invincible, truly capable of healing himself after killing.

Mordred can also suck blood. He can't beat him, but as long as Khorne is bleeding, a single sip of his blood is more nourishing than eating a whole stack of Daemon. His health bar bounces wildly, and not a single drop of blood is his own. Even if he can't beat you, he'll disgust you to death.

This was a meaningless battle, just two monsters venting their emotions on each other. This was nothing like the battle in the Macragge. There was no honor in this battle, yet they fought on for no reason at all.

When these two had been fighting for a week, the Daemon was still cheering them on. But when it dragged on for a whole year, even the Daemon, whose audience was all bloodthirsty, got tired of watching.

"Sir, how much longer do you think they'll keep fighting?"

"I don't know, but don't go and join the fun. The last one who did has already been devoured and sent to the Empyrean heavens."

This battle not only tormented the audience, but also Tom, who was far away in the Far Southern Devouring Abyss.

The entire Devouring Abyss was in turmoil, like someone who had just eaten a Wallace spray and was going to a wild rave, turning red one Bloodletters appeared there for some unknown reason, and then they died, burned to ashes by the Fel Energy flames.

However, the numerical gap cannot be bridged by mechanics. Mordred, who has been a numerical monster for half his life, can only be defeated by a stronger numerical monster.

After a year of frenzied destruction, half of the Brass Citadel was smashed, the Brass Throne was reduced to a Brass Bench, and Mordred, having exhausted her last bit of strength, collapsed completely.

Despite falling down, Mordred remained defiant, even as he looked at the equally wounded Khorne.

"Khorne, you've acknowledged Macragge?"

"What good is admitting it? Goda is dead, and the empire he so cherished has turned to ashes, collapsing at the very last moment before his death."

Grabbing Mordred, Collapsed on the Ground, the Lord of Slaughter, who should have been forever enraged, was now incredibly calm. Perhaps at this moment, Mordred also knew that the guy in front of him was not Goda, not the rebel he remembered who shouted that werewolves would never be slaves.

"Then why do you say I'm wrong?"

"Because everything you want to do, a fool has already done it. He always believed in the fantasy you described to him and was more decisive, while that rebel eventually became the oppressor."

Guess what happened in the end? The former Brave Hero turned into a dragon, just like your so-called grand plan. Enemies are everywhere you look, and even the Old Ones had to destroy this group of madmen.

That's because you're not strong enough.

"Yes, that's why I was born."

Through those scarlet pupils, Mordred saw himself reflected in the crimson flames, and also an old Dog-men on the grassland. He said, "The most important thing in life is to live. With your competitive nature, you'll get yourself killed sooner or later. Hurry up and cook me two dishes. When your bastard father arrives, I can die."

Mordred had never understood this statement before, nor did he understand why the Dog-men -Dog-men, a warrior race, would be so lazy. They could easily establish a powerful empire if they left the grasslands, but instead they chose to stay on this small planet.

But now he understands, but he understands too late; he can't go back now.

"I guess the reason Old Thomas lived so long is probably because of you, but you are neither Thomas nor Goda."

"Gulp~ Just kill me, just kill me! I will never submit. Can you really do it?"

Looking at Mordred staring at him with fawning eyes, Khorne knew what he was thinking, but he really couldn't bring himself to do it. After all, even if he wasn't Goda, the spirits of the destroyed Dog-men still dominated his consciousness.

Moreover, not everyone is Yellow Skins; from this perspective alone, Yellow Skins is even worse than a dog.

"You can leave now, but take him with you. I've had enough of this thing."

The Khorne made a grabbing motion in the air, and a Baldy appeared in his hand. This man was none other than Omega, the one who had turned the Khorne's Daemon World into a large-scale werewolf game testing ground.

Second Brother, do you miss me?

"I don't want to. Even Koz is more than twice as good as you."

Mordred eventually took Omega with him, but as he embarked on his Glory Road, he was stopped by the Khorne. He knew then that he couldn't leave so easily.

I have a request!

"Go ahead and tell me, I'd be willing to go back and bring you that Yellow Skins's ass wrapped up."

"There's no need for that. My request is that you never wear this again. It disgusts me."