Blood Sacrifice to the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne

The next day.

In reality, the Underhive didn't have a concept of "tomorrow."

After all, the sun couldn't be seen here. Looking up revealed a complex network of steel pipes and low "clouds" formed by radiation.

The only thing that made the Scavengers of the Underhive bother to rack their brains to remember was the concentrated discharge of various garbage and waste gases from the Upper and Middle Hives, which happened once every seven days.

Normally, many Scavengers would gather at various garbage discharge points, like a swarm of carrion maggots, waiting for the rare "harvest day."

In the past, Alvin wouldn't have stayed in his "doghouse." Instead, he would have staked out the garbage discharge outlets a day in advance.

As for now, he didn't have to be like he was before. He could sleep until he woke up naturally.

Before the system, he had to work himself to death like a beast of burden. With the system, he still had to work himself to death. Wasn't the system useless then?

Woken by hunger pangs, Alvin swallowed a portion of Nutrient Paste whole.

To be honest, the taste was somewhat difficult to swallow. It was a tasteless paste that even felt rough on his throat.

In the past, having such a portion of Nutrient Paste would have been a dream come true for many Underhive dwellers. But ever since returning from the world of the black robes, it truly felt rather unimpressive.

"Eh, I'll make do. At least I don't have to eat garbage, right?"

Alvin comforted himself inwardly, swallowing the last bite of Nutrient Paste with a frown.

"It should be about twenty-four hours since the last injection."

After filling his stomach, Alvin refocused his attention on "psychic power." However, the situation seemed slightly different this time.

Inside the crude "doghouse" welded from sheet metal, the temperature seemed to have dropped slightly, causing frost to condense on the metal.

"I can use psychic power?" Alvin's eyes flickered, and he was overjoyed. But fearing it was a false alarm, he immediately closed his eyes and focused his mental energy.

The "psychic power," which he initially couldn't control with his own consciousness, had now been successfully stirred by a sliver. Although extremely weak, it was nowhere near the performance of an "A-class" psychic. Yet, there was no doubt that his "psychic power" had grown!

This discovery brought a look of joy to Alvin's face, but also a hint of worry.

"If it can continue to grow, does that mean I have a chance to become an 'Alpha-class' psychic in the future?"

He was happy because an Alpha-class psychic, if not able to walk roughshod through the Warhammer Universe, would at least have the power to protect himself.

But he was worried because, in the mainstream perception of the Imperium of Man, Alpha-class psychics were considered extremely dangerous and extremely rare, with their minds naturally in an extremely unstable state.

With the slightest mistake, they could be consumed by Daemons from the Warp, triggering a catastrophe capable of destroying an entire planet!

"Forget it, what's the point of thinking so far ahead?" Alvin suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly, raising his hand to pat his face. "I'm just an A-class right now. What does Alpha-class have to do with me?"

There was no need to feel troubled in the present about things that might happen in the future!

Alvin shook his head, casting aside all distracting thoughts. He took out the "Permanent Compound V" he kept close to him, licked his lips, and his eyes showed fanaticism. "A-class psychic, I can finally barely possess a sliver of self-preservation ability in the Underhive!"

With that, he injected the entire vial into his body without hesitation.

The familiar sensation surged again, and a faint azure light filled Alvin's pupils.

Unlike before, this time, his soul seemed to be drawn, momentarily leaving his body.

Pulled by an invisible force, it headed towards the destination of all souls, towards that place of immense power, seemingly a mixture of colorful dyes, presenting the chaotic "Empyrean"!

He was like a burning flame, so conspicuous in the "Empyrean" composed of the emotions and thoughts of all living beings, filled with chaotic emotions!

Groups of disgusting and terrifying Daemons seemed to have sensed his presence.

That burning flame of a soul was so dazzling in the eyes of the Daemons that they swarmed towards him from all directions, like sharks smelling blood.

"Is this the world psychics feel?!"

Alvin's face turned pale, a look of horror and dread flashing in his eyes.

Although he had guessed that the Warp might be terrifying, the fear that struck his soul directly could only be understood through personal experience. How laughable and naive his previous mental preparations were!

The Warp. A world that changed like the tide, filled with the emotional fluctuations of hatred, anger, violence, lust, and many other emotions generated by intelligent life. Extreme negative emotions gave rise to Daemons of the Warp, a world without matter, life, or even time and rules!

"Focus your consciousness, control your emotions!"

Alvin, using memories from his past life, began to consciously control the overflow of psychic power.

Of course, he didn't notice that a cold, pale sun had appeared in the Warp at some unknown time. Its chilling radiance tore apart the surging Daemons!

Opening his eyes again, Alvin's consciousness detached from the Warp.

He returned to the material world, breathing in the pungent irradiated exhaust fumes, and for the first time in his life, felt grateful to be alive in the material world.

The entire world seemed different in his eyes, yet it also seemed unchanged.

At the same time, Alvin clearly sensed that his soul had left an indelible mark in the Warp!

Every time he used psychic power, it would create ripples in the Warp, thereby attracting the attention of "Daemons."

The stronger he became, the more dangerous it would be!

"Psychic power is a double-edged sword."

Alvin rubbed his throbbing temples, his face filled with bitterness. "If it weren't to escape the Underhive, I would never want to touch the Warp."

After composing himself, he carefully buried the remaining dose of temporary Compound V, put on his tattered clothes again, and crept out of his "doghouse" with his head down.

Today was the Scavengers' "harvest day."

As a Scavenger from the Underhive, he naturally couldn't miss this "great" festival, could he?

Alvin knew a truth: don't flaunt your wealth.

Especially in an environment like the Underhive, rife with scum, if someone was found to be profitable, then very likely the next day, their corpse would be found by the wastewater pipes.

The junkyard he was heading to was in the southwest corner, and Alvin arrived not long after.

But. The Scavengers who usually clung to the high piles of garbage like maggots, sifting through it for usable items, were nowhere to be seen.

In the vast junkyard, the silence was somewhat eerie!

Unreasonable!

One had to know, today was the Underhive's "Harvest Day," and many Scavengers should have been gathered in the junkyard, searching for usable items.

But now, the entire junkyard was silent, filled with a deathly atmosphere.

"Something's happened!" Alvin smelled the blood in the air; this was the first thought that surfaced in his mind.

His expression shifted slightly, he lowered his stance, and tried to eliminate the sound of his footsteps, slowly probing forward like a worm through the narrow gaps between the mountains of garbage.

Soon, Alvin saw the "reason."

He finally understood why, despite it being "Harvest Day," there were no Scavengers around.

The answer lay behind this pile of garbage: countless Scavenger heads had been chopped off and piled into a low mound in an extremely brutal manner.

Streams of blood had soaked the entire ground, making the earth emit a scarlet, pungent odor.

The countless skulls, artificially stacked, had faces contorted in ferocious grimaces, their pale, terrified eyes seeming to recount the horrors they had experienced.

Alvin froze, his pupils contracting to the size of pinpricks.

He knew very well who had done this "trophy," this bloody tomb built of skulls, which buried hundreds of lives.

Khorne craved blood, battle, skulls; one of the four gods in the highest heavens of the Warp!

Only cults that worshipped "Khorne" would commit such an outrageous act!

Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne!

Please, sirs, bestow some votes upon me~