"Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! I'm so hungry!"
"Shut up! Your gluttony is why we're all trapped inside one body!"
"No! It wasn't me! It was all that bastard Cegorach's fault! All his fault!"
"You're all wrong! Deceiver Mephet'ran started all of this! He's the one who deserves to die most!"
"Aaaahhhhh!!!! Stop arguing! My head is killing me!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill! I'll kill all of you! I'll crush you! I'll erase you completely!"
"Give me strength! I need more strength to crush this annoying insect!"
"Hahahaha! Come on! Let everything become even more chaotic! Let's enjoy this carnival together!"
Amid arguments and roars filled with chaos, disorder, and no discernible logic whatsoever, the C'tan's enormous body gradually stretched out from the colossal Dyson Sphere, growing longer and thinner.
The uppermost portion, in particular, had already taken on the shape of a head.
Yet its entire body still radiated countless faint lights beyond description, like looking up from a planet's surface at night and gazing upon the dazzling Milky Way.
Most importantly, the voices constantly echoing in everyone's minds were like the whispers of the Old Gods on Azeroth, inflicting a tremendous shock upon the minds and even souls of all living beings.
Anyone with even slightly weaker willpower would suffer a mental collapse within an extremely short time, then descend into a madness they themselves could not perceive.
Even low-level Necrons without emotions or strong self-awareness were affected, attempting to gnaw on their companions and their own bodies, exactly like those afflicted by the Flayer Curse in the past.
The uncontrollable urge and instinct to feed spread through the crowd like a plague.
Even the New Phyrexian Creations controlled by Phyrexian Oil began devouring one another, forcing Vashtorr to invoke the authority of the Arch-Praetor and forcibly strip them of