Blood Sacrifice to the Blood God

In the depths of the Warp, the borders of the Four Chaos Gods collided violently, kicking up waves more dazzling than the light of any divine war.

At the final moment, the Chaos Gods tore off their masks of harmony, inducing Doom to speak the incantation of servitude.

Not only that, they interfered with their divine brethren, ensuring no complete, profane syllable reached Doom's ears.

"Hateful! I was almost successful!"

Khorne roared in frustration; he was but a hair's breadth away from claiming Doom for his own.

At the critical juncture, that damned Tzeentch had interrupted the final syllable, causing his efforts to fall short.

"Abominable! You almost succeeded!"

The blood-red world shattered. Tzeentch had disrupted the Blood God's last-minute gambit, flicking away the magic at his fingertips and drifting off with a strange, mocking laugh.

While the shifting developments delighted him, Tzeentch sneered at Khorne: "The Blood God, who prides himself on being a warrior and favors head-on conflict, resorting to schemes? I shall save a fine spot for you in the Crystal Labyrinth."

"And you!" The Blood God's raging will manifested as a blood-shadow, brandishing a longsword as he struck toward the retreating Nurgle.

Nurgle's chubby body rolled once, dodging the sword's edge to return to his own divine realm. His voice drifted from the horizon: "It was you who wanted to hog it all!"

"And you, you bitch!" Another strike descended. Khorne roared: "Especially you! Even if I were to kill Doom, I would never let you lay a finger on him!"

Slaanesh's slick body perfectly evaded the Blood God's attack, returning to her palace: "It was agreed he belonged to us all; you were the first to break the rules."

"Get out! All of you, get out!" The Blood God's violent, thunderous roar echoed across the borders of the Four Chaos Gods, his fury tearing through the Warp storms.

Doom remained unaware that he had been spared by the mutual scheming of the Four Chaos Gods, avoiding the fate of becoming their lackey.

The situation just now had been perilous in the extreme; once the incantation was spoken, he would have surrendered his soul, binding himself irrevocably to the evil gods of the Warp.

Fortunately, the mutual scheming of the Warp's dark gods—greedy and selfish as they were—would not allow others to lay a hand on a soul they coveted, preferring to destroy it rather than share.

"Is anyone there? Is there anyone left?"

After the four chairs vanished, the red space fell silent. Doom called out repeatedly, waiting for an opportunity to escape.

The mark on his chest grew slightly warm, transmitting a vague message: he would be able to leave before long.

In the Warp, the Blood God remained enraged; his fury had not abated in the slightest.

Khorne sensed his surroundings, confirming that his brothers had truly departed and that their gazes were no longer fixed here.

He carefully retrieved that blood-red world from the magma and bared his canine fangs in a triumphant grin.

Khorne was the god of war, but he was equally well-versed in strategy.

The moment Doom killed the greenskin, the youth's sharpness and decisiveness had caught Khorne's eye, and the echo of rage contained within it had filled him with ecstasy.

Without hesitation, Khorne used his authority over "murder" to replicate a copy of that echo to support his own plan.

By joining his three brothers in tempting Doom to fall into Chaos, the Blood God's intentional sabotage had been perfectly timed. Then, by causing a falling out and using his rage to drive the others away, he could enjoy the fruits of his labor far from his brothers' prying eyes.

He had even deceived Tzeentch's eyes, using a "civet cat for a crown prince" trick to swap out the real world.

The Blood God whipped up a storm to carry the small world back to his domain, constantly unleashing his rage to destroy countless daemons to mask his true purpose.

"Hehehe~"

Khorne lowered his voice to hide his triumph. Now, he could finally taste the fruits of victory—fruits that belonged to him alone.

"Is anyone there? Blood for which god?"

Khorne re-injected his will, returning to the small world, only to hear Doom questioning the void.

"It is 'Blood for the Blood God', boy."

The sudden voice made Doom jump. He turned his head to see that Brass Throne standing there once more.

The voice from the chair was low and wild, oppressive and highly aggressive: "Doom, I have watched you for a long time! We do not have much time left."

"You must know, I am a true god! You need only speak 'Blood for the Blood God', and I shall grant you endless power! Conquer a million kingdoms, become an undefeated warrior, and forge an eternal legend!"

Doom listened, staring at the Skull Throne in silence for a long time.

He was not considering whether to accept; he was merely puzzled as to why entities who called themselves "gods" were all so fond of this routine.

"I refuse!"

With almost no hesitation, Doom rejected the throne's proposal.

"Why?" The voice from the throne held a hint of unexpected surprise and a touch of urgency: "Just a moment ago, you were nearly ready to speak the incantation and serve the gods!"

"Why refuse now? Do you think I cannot provide what I promised?"

"That is not it." Doom shook his head, a frank smile appearing on his heroic face, with no intention of hiding his thoughts: "Actually, I never intended to say it just now."

"I was merely stalling for time to observe my surroundings."

The throne fell silent for a long time, and Khorne, behind it, sat silent upon the Skull Throne.

He realized that he and his divine brothers had seemingly been played by a three-month-old Primarch.

But he was not angry; on the contrary, he was even more delighted.

Courage and strategy were exactly what Khorne desired; one who possessed only brute force was nothing more than a simpleton with a developed physique.

"I possess the authority of warriors. You need only believe in me, and your path as a warrior will stretch further than any other's, surpassing all predecessors and leaving no successors. I can make you the greatest warrior of all!"

Khorne still refused to give up, probing Doom bit by bit, attempting to make him believe.

"No," Doom shook his head, rejecting the words from the brass seat. "The education I have received and my current understanding tell me that you are wrong."

"To be a warrior requires a powerful heart, the courage to challenge the strong, unwavering conviction, and an indomitable spirit that never submits."

"All the glory of a warrior must be earned by one's own hands; it should not rely on the handouts of others."

The youth spoke his understanding of a warrior bit by bit. The storm in the Blood-Colored Wasteland gradually died down, leaving only his voice echoing: "Glory obtained by one's own hands is far more dazzling than that bestowed by others."

"You say you are the God of Warriors, so I ask you, God of Warriors: do you require me, who is about to embark on the warrior's path, to submit to you?"

His clear voice fell like pearls on a plate, leaving the Skull Throne in silence.

In the Warp, within the domain of Khorne, the Evil God's wild laughter shook the heavens and earth, forcing the demons to bow their heads. They sought confirmation in each other's eyes, unable to understand why the Blood God was so happy, unable to grasp that joy.

The courage to challenge the strong! Unwavering conviction! An indomitable spirit that never submits!

Look at what that boy said! He loved him too much!

Facing a god without humility, arrogance, or hypocrisy, perfectly fulfilling his own words, remaining vigilant against gifts from strangers, and possessing a unique insight into his own path.

Before even undergoing true warrior training, he already understood the most essential nature of a warrior.

Khorne's mood at this moment was sour and conflicted.

Because the Evil Gods are contradictory existences. They love pure essences, those souls that shine with brilliance.

The Blood God dreamed of claiming all souls that dared to struggle, yet he also looked forward to them saying "no" to him!

Struggling against a god is itself a form of struggle; those who say "no" to a god possess incomparable courage and indomitability.

"Actually, I do not wish to become a warrior. That is the path my father planned for me."

In the empty, isolated space, facing a brass skull throne, Doom spoke the truth hidden in the deepest part of his heart.

His ideal was not to become a warrior; compared to being a warrior or a king, he preferred traveling and farming.

"How can you not become a warrior!" The skull throne grew anxious again, trembling incessantly as it tried to steer the youth before it straight, avoiding him straying onto the wrong path. "How dare you fail your father's expectations and not become a warrior?"

"Do not fail your father! You must become a glorious warrior!"

Doom spread his hands, his expression solemn. "I am already walking on the path of a warrior."

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" The skull throne vibrated continuously; the owner of that magnificent voice was clearly relieved. "Do not deviate from your path."

Wait! On the skull throne in the Warp, Khorne suddenly awoke. If King Norwick were to make Doom believe in the Blood God, perhaps the success rate would increase significantly.

Doom respected his father deeply and would never fail the path King Norwick had laid out for him.

Leaving the Warp, Doom's soul still retained its self-protection mechanism, shielding the information the gods transmitted to him.

What made the gods even more desperate was that as he continued to grow, the Warp's corruption found it increasingly difficult to touch his soul.

Realizing this, Khorne was in a great mood.

"I am leaving."

Doom felt the mark on his chest growing hotter; this space-time was about to collapse, and he bid farewell to the skull throne like a friend.

Khorne also sensed that the small world was about to shatter under the pressure between the Warp and reality.

"I, too, must leave."

As the world shattered, Doom's soul returned from the Blood God's domain to the real universe, and Khorne's will returned to the Warp.

The Blood God cast his gaze toward the real universe, looking at the soul of King Norwick—a resilient king, a powerful warrior.

Khorne liked him very much!

"I will have a talk with your father! Doom! You are destined to be mine!"

He shifted his gaze again, placing it on a person kneeling and praying, begging the gods for mercy.

The Blood God recognized him; that man was a plaything of Tzeentch.

"It is time to talk to my brothers and see what 'gift' Tzeentch has prepared for Doom."

Doom's vision went black again. When he sensed his surroundings once more, the orc's corpse was still twitching, and the praises of the Night Watchers rose and fell.

Time seemed to have never taken a single step forward.