The Angel Descends Beside Me Again (6k+)

Like all Daemon, Legion Demon also have characteristics that distinguish them from other factions of Daemon.

The Khorne Daemons is unmatched in melee combat. To deal with these red-skinned brutes, unless you inflict excessive damage, melee is the best approach. However, the Khorne Daemons also has exceptionally high base stats, making it a formidable top-lane fighter capable of both dealing and tanking damage.

Tzeentch Daemon are all Psychic Power masters. Even though the left brain attacks the right brain, each Daemon has its own plan. However, the power of Psychic Power compensates for the deficiency of confused thinking and is also the easiest way to corrupt humans.

Nurgle Daemon are notorious for their abundance. Adding to the already negative effects of these nasty, living excrement causes both psychological and physical harm. Furthermore, the appearance of Nurgle Daemon often brings plagues, making later cleanup extremely troublesome.

And then there are the Slaaneshi Daemon —they're quite agile!

The Legion Demon, belonging to the Greedy Dissolution category, do not fall into the above categories. Their most famous characteristic is their ability to devour and evolve, and each Daemon possesses its own unique and extraordinary skills.

However, as we all know, late-game abilities like Devouring Evolution have one limitation: they are extremely weak in the early game and may die before they can develop to the late game.

Moreover, Daemon aren't something you can just eat whenever you want. To absorb a Daemon's power, you first have to defeat it, and secondly, you have to make sure that someone else doesn't steal your Peaches.

Therefore, under these circumstances, the Burning Legion's development principle can be summed up in one word: Survival!

So how do you survive and avoid dying prematurely? The answer is to prioritize increasing your health to 40 before worrying about anything else. As long as your health bar is high enough, you can slowly whittle down the opponent until they die.

The Khorne Daemons prefer direct confrontation, the Burning Legion prefers sneak attacks from behind, and the Tzeentch Daemon always like to devise schemes and tricks, so let's give up on thinking about it.

In terms of sheer toughness, the Legion Demon are no less than Nurgle Fatso, their agility is on par with those drug-addicted purple-skinned trash, and each one possesses astonishing intelligence.

But the boomerang from 10,000 years ago still ended up hitting Mordred on the head. The upgrade path he once designed for the Burning Legion ultimately became an obstacle to his progress.

Watching Guilliman, who was completely engrossed in a fierce battle with Saffrin, the three siblings, acting as battery plugs, looked at each other. Finally, Sisyphus spoke up, "Second Brother, how long are we going to keep fighting like this?"

"Almost there, almost there. We haven't even entered the second stage yet. We need to at least beat Saffrin to his knees before we can trigger the cutscene. By the way, the three of us are just sitting here doing nothing, how about we play a game of cards?"

Upon hearing that they were going to play cards, Zhuang Sen immediately woke up. Anyway, Guilliman wasn't going to die, and the three of them were just idling around, so they might as well have a couple of rounds.

Zhuang Sen couldn't understand why Guilliman was so excited, nor could Mordred and Sisyphus. They could only attribute Guilliman's current excitement to repression, probably because he had gone crazy from revising government affairs.

"Speaking of Mordred, what kind of spell did you cast on Guilliman? I've wanted to ask you that for a while now. I always felt something was off about him; he's more filial to you than to his own father."

"Yes, Second Brother, what exactly is the reason?"

While peeking at his good friend's hand, Moreleide explained, "It's nothing, Guilliman just wants my body. He had his fun last time, and he wants to have his fun again this time."

I thought he was about to collapse from exhaustion, and that it would be a good opportunity to bring the Sanguinius back to take the blame, so I agreed."

"But then again, even though Ashen Herald isn't in my hands, that shouldn't prevent Sanguinius from showing up. He hasn't appeared yet, could there be a mistake?"

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible." Zhuang Sen assured him confidently, "When all the brothers were dragged into the Warp back then, although I ran away immediately, I personally witnessed the Sanguinius commit suicide and return to heaven, using your Watermelon Knife."

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"That's a sword. I've told you so many times, Ashen Herald is a sword. It just looks like a Watermelon Knife."

"That's not important. What's important is that the Sanguinius is indeed dead, and it was suicide. All the Blood Angels can attest to this, and it even caused a complication called Black Rage."

Based on the various files left by the Dark Angels over the past 10,000 years, Zhuang Sen stated that the Sanguinius must still be alive, and that during a certain collaboration between the Dark Angels and the Blood Angels, Sanguinius illusions did indeed appear.

"Yes, Second Brother, you're the one who called us here, and didn't Chagatai write you a letter? You still have that photo."

Zhuang Sen and Sisyphus were right, but Mordred felt something was off, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

After all, Sanguinius wasn't a brainless person. Even if he was extremely weak and his soul was residing in Ashen Herald, why hadn't he shown himself at this point? It couldn't be that he could usually give his offspring prophecies and guidance, but now that it was his turn, he had run out of energy.

Mordred couldn't figure it out, so he gave up thinking about it. While the three of them were watching the show, playing cards, and chatting, they got so bored that they started discussing Nurgle or Slaanesh had bigger breasts. That's when Saffrin finally entered the second phase.

Beneath the swirling ashes, a battered and bruised Saffrin knelt on one knee, his eyes flashing with three parts helplessness, three parts desolation, and 94 parts utter bewilderment. "Damn Guilliman, no wonder everyone said you Ambition; it turns out you've been hiding your true abilities all along."

Why! Boss, why did you do this? You promised us you would lead us on the Eternal Burning Crusade. We waited for you for 10,000 years, and now you're going to destroy our last home."

"No, why are you making me sound like the villain?"

"Shut up!" Saffrin roared, raising his blade and pointing it at Guilliman. "You have no right to speak here! Bring out the true Legion Commander of the Burning Legion! Otherwise, I'll break this sword and kill everyone!"

Guilliman remained silent; he simply couldn't comprehend the thought processes of these lunatic Daemon. But since they had made the request, Guilliman relinquished command.

As Mordred took over again, Guilliman's golden retriever grew wildly, automatically braiding into tiny braids, and its eyes became incredibly wise.

"I'm here. What do you want to say? Hurry up and say it."

"Boss, you can't destroy this demonic realm! This demonic realm is proof of the gods! Listen, the whole world is weeping because of it."

Saffrin was clearly insane, but it made perfect sense, since the Black Glaze was a test version of the Golden Throne, and it was precisely by frantically draining the user's power with this thing that this demonic realm had been preserved for ten thousand years.

Mordred didn't even need to guess to know what Saffrin had been doing during that time. He had nothing to do but sacrifice living souls, using all the Daemon as expendable resources, including himself. Anyone who sat on that black toilet for 10,000 years would go crazy.

This demonic realm should have vanished long ago; it was a mistake, something that should never have existed, yet for various reasons, it wasn't taken away by me.

"Saffrin, the dream of the Burning Crusade must end. It is merely a legacy of an old era, long since ruined. There is no point in maintaining it; only by tearing it down and starting anew can the Legion return."

"Give yourself some dignity, hand over my sword, and I will appoint you as the legion's lieutenant. We will have a new legion, and a new expedition."

"No!" Saffrin shook his head stubbornly as he looked at Mordred, who was reaching out to him. "You weren't like this before. You've forgotten the promise you made to us."

There is no place for us in this vast Sea of Souls. We are all losers. Even though we are Daemon, we are despised by other Daemon.

So we came together, answered your call, formed an organization called the Burning Legion, protected those weak mortals, and even participated in that damned Webway War.

We did all the dirty and hard work; we deserve credit for our efforts, but now you're refusing to acknowledge it.

You could have taken us with you then, but you only cared about your offspring. You are remarkable, you are aloof, but you have forgotten why we honored you as the Legion Commander.

What's the difference between you and those four bastards? Do you really think you can be humanity's guardian angel?

I Am Not a God!

"Then let everything Burning Fiercely!"

Without any hesitation, Saffrin, who had become the owner of this demonic realm, broke the Ashen Herald in his hand and plunged the broken sword into his chest.

In an instant, the pitch-black mist that had shrouded the Demon Realm for millennia vanished, and incomparably violent Warp Demonic Energy poured in, completely exposing this Demon Realm to the Sea of Souls.

Looking up at the sky, everything around was turning to ashes, the entire dimension was collapsing, and finally being torn apart by the Warp tides, making everything vanish into nothingness.

Even so, Mordred showed no panic. Instead, he leisurely drove Guilliman to Saffrin's side and pulled his shattered Ashen Herald from his chest. "You dare break my Ultra Key? You're finished for life. You think I can't do anything about it?"

As Mordred finished speaking, emerald lightning, like liquid, erupted from Guilliman's body, relentlessly dissolving everything around him.

The Grassland Illusion, rooted in her memories, began to emerge; it was the first sight Mordred saw when she opened her eyes after arriving in this world.

On the boundless grassland, all kinds of the Beast gallop about, a large flock of chickens is driven by Dog-men riding dinosaurs, golden light descends from the sky and illuminates the earth, a gentle breeze blows away all worries, leaving only the most beautiful Serenity in one's heart.

This is Mordred's Gensokyo of Gensokyo, the home he truly believes in, not some bullshit Holy Terra.

In this extremely idealistic Warp, the laws of the world no longer follow matter, and the power of the mind can manifest.

Whether it's a moment of reflection for all beings, a testament to courage, a reward for one's efforts, or the propagation of life, the echoes of the soul give rise to desire, and extreme desires will cause ripples in the Sea of Souls.

All Primarchs are essentially Warp minor god fragment, and this world is their birthplace. Even Guilliman was an absolute darling in this Warp.

Mordred was once a god, and this demonic realm originally belonged to him. It was because of his existence that this demonic realm came into being, and now, wielding the Ashen Herald, he lacks nothing.

Since the peak cannot be retained, then let's walk the path we came from. 555 seconds later, everything in the Demon Realm vanished into thin air. In the instant of vanishing, an indescribable, twisted tentacle descended from the sky and tightly bound this shattered dimension.

Destruction is accompanied by rebirth. The Demon Realm, reduced to ashes, is rebuilt. It may not have been as magnificent and glorious as before, but it has boundless green grasslands, twisted and bizarre bloodthirsty jungles, bloody arenas covered with yellow sand, beautiful palaces and castles, and even green Garden of Nurgle full of Magnus Fruit.

This backtracking relentlessly drained Mordred's power, to the point that it began to demand power from its original form and absorb the power of others.

Meanwhile, at the same time as this dimension was undergoing a phoenix-like rebirth, Angron, far away in Holy Terra, was looking at the colossal monster figurine that was emitting green light and was puzzled.

He suddenly discovered that his Second Brother's body, left in the Imperial Palace, was rapidly shrinking, completely disrupting his money-making plans. The ticket clearly stated in black and white that it was an Imperial Colossal Biological Combat Weapon; wouldn't this make him look like a fraud?

But hearing the exclamations of the surrounding tourists, and out of professional Morality, Angron signaled to his only five offspring to restore order.

"What we're seeing now is the Empire's latest biological combat weapon. Look at those powerful claws, that thick, long tail, and especially that ferocious Great Maw —it could swallow any Xenos whole!"

"Ah, it is indeed extremely magnificent. But, sir, is that fat cat also an exhibit?"

Since it was the first day the Imperial Palace was open to the public, tickets were sold in limited quantities, so most of the visitors were locals from Terra, including some who wanted to bring their family members to see the world.

Therefore, many of the first group of tourists were teenagers, who were at the age when their curiosity was at its peak. However, this was a considerable challenge for Clark Kent, who had just become one of the five members of the Four Heavenly Kings, the only members of the World Eaters.

The Legion is not easy to rebuild, and to stop being a useless bunch of good-for-nothings, Angron has gone to great lengths, even going so far as to personally participate as an exhibit.

"Of course! And that's not all. We also have interactive games. Just show a little Fealty and you can receive a Holy Communion to feed the exhibits, and even take a photo with them!"

"Can I take a picture with this ultimate biological combat weapon?"

"Of course! Not only that, we'll also be going into the Imperial Palace exhibition hall, where we'll find our beloved Imperial War Masters, as well as Little Princess Your Highness Sisyphus of the Empire, and we'll even get to see the great God-Emperor up close!"

They might even randomly select a few lucky individuals to undergo the enlistment tests for the World Eaters, becoming His Majesty's brave Dreadnought Asta's monks!

"Can girls do it too?" a little girl with sparkling eyes asked, stepping forward. "Of course! But not as Astartes. You can become Battle Sisters accompanying the army, a daughter of our great Emperor! Hurry up and sign up!"

If Mordred and his crew found out that Angron, that damned cat, had used them as exhibits and recruitment propaganda, they'd be eating hakimi and mung bean soup tonight.

Unfortunately, Mordred doesn't have the energy to deal with this right now, and neither do Sisyphus two. They've all been used as a source of energy by Mordred and are almost exhausted.

The power of the Chaos God 'One Proof of Eternity is still being demonstrated, even if it's only for a brief five seconds. But existence itself is everything. Don't underestimate the value of a steamed bun; a steamed bun can still fill your stomach.

In reality, Mordred didn't actually possess a magic domain; everything he had was stolen. He pieced together a good body, and the magic domain was also pieced together from a good domain.

His still-intact high-dimensional nature ensures that he will never be corrupted. Mordred has always been a lost soul adrift in the galaxy, and even this Second Primarch is merely the first prey he devoured.

He never truly integrated into this world. Even after ascending the ladder to godhood, Mordred had only one goal: to go home.

But now he doesn't want to go back. Those short 20 years are too far away, and the ties here are too many. Now he just wants to keep playing this game, and no one can stop him.

The cost of accepting the Demon Realm is minimal; it's merely binding oneself to this world. In any case, with only one of the three brothers missing, nothing will go wrong, and this can be considered a great honor for his ancestors.

Looking at the Ashen Herald severed in two, and then glancing at the Daemon World beneath his feet—a world many times smaller but still a perfect replica of the Serenity landscape— Mordred paused for a moment, then grabbed Saffrin by the tail and asked, "Awake now?"

Saffrin couldn't see Mordred's expression clearly, only a large, dark face back to the sun. Furthermore, Guilliman didn't possess Mordred's Passive Face-Reading Technique, so Saffrin had no way of guessing Mordred's thoughts. He already remembered what he had done: he had killed Tom.

"This... this must be the boss's power! Boss, just kill me!"

"Want to die? You wish!"

Carrying the loyal but dim-witted, crazy Daemon, Mordred walked step by step to the headless corpse of his great-son Tom, and retrieved his sidearm and armor.

"I need men right now. You're a Greater Daemon with a name and reputation, killing you would be too easy. Since you killed my son, then you two will become husband and wife from now on!"

"Huh? But I'm male! Tom is dead."

"That's not important. Daemon feel no pain, Tom isn't quite dead yet, and you are the reward I'm giving to my descendants for this steadfast perseverance over ten thousand years. Do you have anything else to say?"

I have nothing to say!

As soon as he finished speaking, Mordred grabbed Saffrin and shoved him into Tom's corpse. In less than five seconds, the headless body stood up on its own and picked up a head with its eyes wide open in the corner.

However, Mordred was now in a dilemma. He hadn't thought of this before when there was no Demon Realm, but now that he had his own unique Dimensional Space, or rather, Divine Realm, what was the use of it? It was empty and he was all alone.

Following the usual ranking convention, the Four Merchants' demon realms are all incredibly cool, with names like Realm of Slaughter, Stagnant Rot Realm, Tzeentch, and Slaanesh. Not only do they sound pleasant, but they are also quite realistic.

I can't very well call myself "Nan Ta Tian," can I? That name would be embarrassing to say out loud.

Since he's not a proper Chaos God, Mordred can't split into Greater Daemon, nor can he generate Daemon minions on his own. There's not even an instruction manual; you have to assemble it yourself.

With that in mind, Mordred decided to put it off for now and get down to business first.

Seeing the Ashen Herald broken in two, Mordred plopped down on the grass, grabbed a piece of scrap metal, and welded it back on, figuring it should work anyway.

"Now comes the moment of truth! I'm grabbing it!"

Grabbing it in one swift motion and refining it instantly, Guilliman, after using the Mordred plugin, directly reached his palm into the sword and pulled out a ball of light.

This immediately caught the attention of Zhuang Sen and the others, who all crowded around Guilliman's head, peering outwards. "Is it Sanguinius?"

"No, this looks like a Blood Angels."

A tiny bit of Fel Energy was flung into the ball of light by Mordred, and the ball of light instantly transformed into a phantom figure. Because it was a soul, this clump of soul perfectly displayed its appearance in life.

The bright red armor Paint Scheme, the cherry blossom insignia on the knees, the Baal mark on the chest, and the Mark II Power Armour that had long been phased out by the Empire all indicated that this was a veteran of the Blood Angels, and a very old one at that.

Mordred didn't recognize this soul, nor did Johnson-Giriman, and as for Sisyphus, she didn't even participate in the Great Crusade.

"No, I'll try again!"

Mordred reached out again and began to pluck at Ashen Herald. More and more orbs of light appeared around him, but he couldn't find any trace of the Great Angel. However, there were familiar faces among them, including Ladoron, one of the Triumvirate of the Expedition.

Unfortunately, Ladoron's soul was extremely weak, and he was as dull-witted as Ogryn. Mordred dared not infuse him with Fel Energy, lest he die from it and everything would be ruined.

One, ten, a hundred, a thousand— Mordred was exhausted from taking them all. His own demon realm, his own weapons, and the souls within were all Blood Angels.

As time went on, people discovered some patterns: these souls came from different eras, arranged from top to bottom, including those from the Great Crusade Legion era and those from the Chapter era.

"Wait a minute, this isn't right! How come there's Atlas here?"

Setting aside the few Atlas who had somehow infiltrated the area, Mordred finally pulled out a rather heavy soul.

Their eyes met, and Tom stared at the Primarch with an incredulous expression. He was speechless, a thousand thoughts swirling within him, and finally managed to utter only one sentence. "Ambition bastard, how could it be you?"

The tender father-son bond that had just been brewing vanished instantly, but Mordred couldn't get angry yet, after all, Tom had worked hard and was a very filial son.

"My son, I am your father."

"Bullshit! Don't think I'm afraid of you just because you're the Primarch. You're clearly Guilliman, yet you try to copy our Atlas with that cool hairstyle. You don't even have a vest or trench coat. Are you trying to fool me?"

"This is called the Hell God of War! Tom, you bastard, if you keep bastarding, I bet I'll beat you to death! I'm your daddy!"

"Ah? That familiar foul mouth, that affectionate address, and that vulgar pronunciation... Father, it really is you!"

Mordred had nothing more to say. He grabbed Tom and kicked him into the corpse, telling the Rebellious son to go somewhere cool and stay there. Then he continued to rummage inside, wanting to see just how much was stored there.

But as Mordred continued to rummage, he realized something was wrong. He felt a resistance, as if something was preventing him from reaching out.

But Mordred couldn't fight city hall, and she eventually pulled out what she was holding—a frail, dark green ball of light.

"Shisen, I need an explanation from him!"

Shisen was also dumbfounded, but he was certain that this was definitely not his offspring. You can't say that just because the Dark Knight's Paint Scheme is dark green, its soul is also dark green, right? The Salamanders is green, isn't it? He immediately urged Mordred to open it and take a look.

But as a small amount of Fel Energy was flung into the ball of light, Sisyphus saw the three of them collectively stunned, and that guy named Tom, Atlas, even dropped the head he was holding to the ground.

"That's a bit unexpected, Second Brother. Do you think there's any possibility?"

"Shh, stop talking. It's one thing for one girl to make a mistake, but it's absolutely impossible for someone like Sanya to make a mistake. If he weren't Loken, I would have eaten this sword on the spot. The sword in his hand was given to him by me."

Shisen chimed in, "I already know what's going to happen next. Come out now, or I might have to go in."

"No, what are you talking about? Why can't I understand you? Does doing this make me seem stupid?" Sisyphus indeed couldn't understand what he was saying, but someone else could.

"Don't come in, there's no room for you here. I'll just come out."

As soon as the words were spoken, a tall figure flew out from the Ashen Herald, with flawless white wings, flowing golden hair, and an impeccably perfect face.

Sisyphus was overjoyed. Although she had never seen the Great Envoy, she had heard his legend countless times. Such a handsome and majestic man must be her brother, Saint Qiles.

Then she heard Mordred ask, "Horus, is that you?"

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