What God Does Blood Sacrifice

The instant the helmet descended, Doom focused his mind. The world in his eyes became different from an ordinary person's—the passage of time slowed to a crawl, and everything around him seemed submerged in viscous liquid.

Every detail fell within Doom's perception: the Special Ops Boy's open mouth, the muscles pulled taut by its raised fist, its accelerated heartbeat in a state of extreme excitement, and the blood rushing rapidly through its veins.

Everything, every last detail, was captured by Doom's senses.

Behind the roaring Ork as it charged, he saw how its back twisted and predicted how it would execute its next move.

Even when the Ork took its first step, Doom already knew how it would attack him.

In the blink of an eye was too vague a description. More precisely, within a single nanosecond, Doom's mind had already run through hundreds or thousands of calculations.

In the instant it took light to travel thirty centimeters, Doom's mind had deduced hundreds of ways to kill it.

Yet he still chose "one punch and one kick," killing the Greenskin according to their agreement and fulfilling the promise between father and son.

The Ork's roar gradually rose, stretching endlessly in Doom's ears. It raised its fist, ready to smash down!

Doom could even see the look in the caged Ork's eyes shift from delight to frenzy. It wanted to watch blood gush like a spring and was preparing to cheer its victory.

End the Ork with one punch and one kick!

Doom's face turned solemn as he precisely calculated the attack distance. The Ork stood twice as tall as he did, and the reach advantage granted by its arms could not be ignored.

No matter how fast his thoughts were, his body still had limits. Doom knew his body's reaction speed and where the limit of his movements lay.

His body was still developing. Although his movements were faster than the Ork's, they were not faster by much.

As the two approached the limit of their attack range, Doom flashed a cold smile at the deliriously joyful Ork, then crouched in the instant the other party stared at him in bewilderment.

A sweeping kick!

Doom dropped rapidly, using his right leg as a pivot while his left leg swept forcefully across!

Compared to its powerful, well-developed upper body, the Ork's lower limbs were short and relatively fragile. Doom had seen through this weakness and launched a fearless counterattack!

"Boy! Die!" the Special Ops Boy roared as it smashed down its fist. The blow was heavy and powerful, enough to shatter bones and snap sinews.

"Crack!"

Its roar was answered by the collision of shinbones and the crisp sound of a fracture.

"Clatter!" The Night Watchers all rose to their feet, clearly witnessing the astonishing counterattack.

Doom had won the head-on clash. His left leg swept across and kicked through the Ork's shin, making it lose its balance.

In the next instant, the boy's nimble body spun with the sweeping kick, and he clenched his left fist, storing up the rotational momentum.

"Die for me!!!"

His clear roar carried all his fury. Doom's voice was like that of a young tiger, shaking the hearts of all who heard it!

The Special Ops Boy's leg had not yet transmitted its pain to its brain. Its pain nerves had not even reacted, and it did not realize that its leg had been brutally broken.

When it realized it had lost its balance, a tender yet tightly clenched iron fist, just as deadly, slammed into its face!

Then everything before its eyes went black, and it lost consciousness.

One punch caved in the Ork's cheek. The iron fist's remaining force did not diminish as it drove straight through, bursting out from the back of the Special Ops Boy's head.

Brain matter exploded and blood gushed! With a single iron punch, Doom completely finished off the savage beast.

One kick and one punch! One punch and one kick!

Doom stood tall and unmoving, while the Ork that had been certain of victory only a second earlier now had its head punched through. Its ruined body hung from his arm, all four limbs twitching spasmodically.

"Cool!!!!"

The Orks shrieked like mad and danced wildly inside their cages, clutching their heads as they let out incredulous cheers.

They did not care who lived. They cheered only for the victor. Doom had put on a spectacular fight for them, leaving the Orks' blood surging with excitement.

"Brilliant!"

The Night Watchers applauded. In a death match between opponents of vastly different sizes, the side at an absolute disadvantage in size had still emerged victorious.

Doom had proven with facts that he had not been boasting. He had ended the battle in less than a second.

His techniques were fierce and decisive, he possessed a clear understanding of friend and foe, and he had made an almost perfect move.

The Orks screamed, and the Night Watchers cheered.

But at that moment, Doom could hear and see nothing at all. The scene before him was still the arena, yet everything had frozen, and time was no longer passing.

At the instant he killed his enemy, during that subtle moment when the Ork's life ebbed away and its hot blood flowed out, the world came to a standstill...

Reality's scene was like a curtain being drawn across it, gradually becoming as illusory and indistinct as a reflection in a mirror.

When he looked toward his arm again, the dead Ork's corpse had vanished. There was no sign that it had ever existed.

As his vision went black, Doom lost all external sensation. Such a thing had never happened before.

He was like a blind and deaf man, unable to sense anything in the darkness without distance. He did not even know whether his eyes were open or closed.

Amid a powerful stench of blood, Doom suddenly "opened his eyes." The bizarre sight before him left him utterly shocked.

Across an endless wasteland, the sky burned eternally. There was no soil or grass below, only undulating hills and wastelands covered in jagged blood-red stones. The streams winding in from afar carried scalding magma and sulfur.

Doom lowered his head and saw a pile of stark white skulls beneath his feet. Some were human, and some belonged to Orks. Some he had seen before, while others were unfamiliar. Layer upon layer, they had been piled into a hill of skulls.

In the Warp behind the curtain of reality, where Doom could not see, the wills of the Four Chaos Gods gathered at the boundary between their domains.

In the gap between reality and illusion, a fragile blood-red world floated and sank in Khorne's claws, teetering on the verge of collapse at any moment.

Nurgle hurriedly exhaled a breath of foul air, granting the broken world undying life to maintain the stability of the illusory realm.

Khorne carefully sheltered the world in his palm. The Chaos God actually felt a trace of nervousness. "The purity of a first kill is exquisite. When blood flows and violence and conflict echo, I paid a great price to pull his soul from the real universe and bring it into the gap between reality and the Empyrean."

"Even after his soul became human, it still maintained its own existence and protection. Our words are difficult to deliver to his ears."

"We have only one chance, so we must hurry. His essence is resisting the power of the Empyrean. It will not be long before he returns to the real universe."

Doom stood atop the hill of skulls and gazed into the distance. All he could see was the Blood-Colored Wasteland, yet a sudden heat flared in his chest.

Looking down, he saw the red mark he had possessed since birth emitting a faint glow, as though something had activated it.

Doom knew nothing about the origin of the mark on his chest, or its specific meaning and function. He had no way of knowing what had triggered its reaction.

"Doom~"

At that moment, a voice called out from behind him.

The voice overlapped in layers, ethereal and indistinct, like the echo produced by several voices blending together.

Doom turned around and was astonished to discover that the barren, scorching Blood-Colored Wasteland had completely changed.

Four enormous chairs had appeared from thin air, reaching from earth to sky, grand and colossal.

The first chair was azure, yet it reflected multicolored auroras. Its seat and backrest were made of countless twisted vortices, and its form changed from moment to moment.

There were no constants and no certainties.

The second chair was plain and archaic, cast from skulls poured in brass. Blood continually welled from the ancient brass skulls, filling the air with violence and conflict.

Blood and brass, violence and conflict.

The third chair was a deathly green that defied description. Roots and moss coiled around its armrests, while the seat bubbled and burbled. Pustules, acne, and tumor-like cysts occasionally dripped pus as yellow as jaundice.

Rotten yet brimming with life, full of vitality yet utterly decayed.

The fourth chair radiated an alluring purple aura. It was made of smooth, fragrant, fair, tender flesh. Its armrests were rows of soft red lips, and arms protruded from its backrest. Reliefs symbolizing hidden organs could be seen everywhere, while the entire chair exuded an enticing fragrance.

Its contours outlined indulgence, while decadence lurked behind the glamour.

An ordinary person who saw the four chairs symbolizing original sin would inevitably be driven insane, gradually sinking into depravity.

Doom, however, showed no reaction. He merely found the chairs gaudy, like animals flaunting their beautiful feathers.

"You need only recite the incantation."

There was no one visible on the chairs, but the voice they emitted was deafening. "Serve us, and we shall grant you the power to conquer eternity!"

Doom stared at the chairs of wildly varying forms, his brows drawing together into a deep furrow. What he was seeing and hearing had already exceeded the entirety of his knowledge.

"What incantation? Can I leave this place?"

Whom was he supposed to serve? What power was he supposed to gain? Doom had no interest in any of it. He only wanted to leave this inexplicable place as quickly as possible.

The Four Chaos Gods behind the curtain were overjoyed. They had not expected things to proceed so smoothly. Were they about to obtain the most mysterious Primarch?

"You can leave. Just recite it together with us: Serve... the gods..."

The Four Chaos Gods spoke in unison and harmony, luring Doom into reciting the incantation and serving them together.

"Serve..." Doom recited the first two words, dragging out the syllable as he prepared to say the final two.

"Blood sacrifice to what god!"

"Change without end!"

"Prince of—!"

"Rotten—!"

Suddenly, the harmonious voice scattered and split into different voices, symbolizing four different meanings. At the same time, the four chairs vanished.

The unified, harmonious language shattered into fragments. The four voices began expressing different meanings, yet some interference remained, making it impossible to fully articulate them.

"What god does blood sacrifice?"

Doom stood there blankly for a long while, then looked toward the vanished chairs.