29 Statues Shattered, the Dead Return (14)

A sordid ritual, unclean blood used to draw in magic, summoning Chaos, running ceaselessly.

The Daemon laughed loudly in the darkness, uttering his name, chewing it up, then thoroughly wetting it with his foul saliva, and finally swallowing it whole with his long, scarlet tongue.

"Erebus!" it roared in fury, its voice piercing the darkness, passing through the protection of the magical shield, and striking his eardrum with the precision of a scalpel.

That thing seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with Lorgar Aurelian, but its hatred for him was genuine. At that moment, it was perhaps the most real thing in the universe.

Erebus was fully aware of this; he had no choice but to drag his badly injured body, limping through the dark corridor.

The steel-like bones and powerful vitality bestowed upon him by the Astartes reconstruction surgery still reside deep within his flesh and blood; however, they will need time to return to their full potential.

The backlash from the forced interruption of the ritual was far more terrifying than the worst-case scenario Erebus had anticipated. With each step he took, his physical condition weakened further, as if under a terrible curse.

However, that wasn't it; the real curse was the thing that followed him closely.

That thing that shattered the corridor, devoured darkness and magic, that thing filled with hatred for him, wishing it could chew up all his flesh and blood.

Erebus had no time to look back at it; all he could do now was drag his weakened body forward.

His body was already numb, and his legs trembled uncontrollably as if they were malfunctioning parts in a machine.

In order to walk a little faster, he even had to squeeze out the last bit of his remaining psionic energy, turning it into a cane to support himself as he moved forward.

If he hadn't been able to manipulate the power of Chaos to create more obstacles and cast spells, he would have been swallowed whole by the Daemon at this snail's pace.

This must not happen. He cannot die, at least not in this way in the material world.

If one's soul ascends to the Empyrean without being fully prepared, all the Daemon who have met him will immediately swarm in, seize him in their hands, and tear him to pieces to present to their sovereign.

Erebus moved forward, panting heavily, his limbs feeling as if a thousand pounds were pressing down on them, and each step caused him immense pain.

His muscles trembled, his nerves quivered to the very core of his being, sweat streamed down his face, and a viscous liquid, indistinguishable between blood and saliva, dripped from the corner of his mouth. He walked on, utterly disheveled, fearing that if he slowed down even a step, he would be seized by the Daemon behind him.

He still hadn't given up hope of survival; however, this hope proved utterly pathetic in the face of reality. Just three minutes after the escape began, Erebus was seized in the claws of the vengeful monster.

They were like red-hot daggers, piercing his numb body one by one, and surprisingly, they awakened his senses at that moment. The nerves that had been swallowed by the cold finally revived, but brought even greater pain.

Erebus roared, his face contorted in a ferocious grimace, veins bulging on his forehead. He gripped the psionic cane tightly and weakly handed it out as if swinging a knife.

The power of Chaos still did not abandon him. At this moment, it surged into the Daemon's body along the special cane and quickly formed a banishing magic circle.

At all times, Daemon manifested in the material world will always be restricted by such formations. Erebus completed this formation with his knowledge and will to survive over the past ten thousand years; his two hearts had never been so united, beating so rapidly.

However, when the exorcism array shone Radiance, he discovered that the Daemon's form remained completely unaffected.

The enormous, twisted, and ugly body remained in place, and Lorgar Aurelian's hideous face was still on his chest, now sneering at him with hatred.

It's not Daemon?!

The thought flashed through Erebus's chaotic mind and vanished quickly, for no other reason than that the Daemon's claw that had seized him had clenched into a fist.

Bones snapped one by one, the spine bearing the brunt, easily severed by sharp claws. High temperatures and some terrifying force traveled along them, transforming his flesh into boiling blood.

Erebus gritted his teeth, enduring the pain, and began searching for more ways to break the deadlock. At that moment, the Daemon roared and threw him to the ground. His skin shattered, his blood vessels burst, and crystal-clear blood, like mist, rose from his body.

Erebus couldn't help but vomit up fragments of his internal organs, yet he still didn't give up hope of living. He barely managed to lift his head and, amidst his own blood, hissed out a name he hadn't uttered in a very, very long time.

"Father!" he cried out with all his might, his voice filled with heartfelt emotion. "It is I, your loyal son, Erebus, your Chief Chaplain!"

He certainly wasn't foolish enough to think that saying such things at this time would be useful; the Dark Apostle's true purpose was simply to buy himself some time.

He bought three seconds with this shameless statement, and in those brief three seconds, he once again summoned the power of Chaos.

Never before had Erebus been so grateful that the Veil separating the Warp from the material world was so thin.

The blessings of the four gods had not yet dissipated from him. In the sudden burst of shimmering Radiance, a group of Astartes, neither human nor ghost, appeared beside him and the Daemon.

They wore scarlet armor, but their flesh and blood were completely fused with it. Their faces were twisted and merged with their helmets, and their fleshy eyes without eyelids spun wildly in the center of their eyepieces.

They quickly grasped the situation, and a dozen or so Boltgun began firing at the Daemon, even taking the opportunity to drag away the heavily wounded Erebus.

The two Word Bearers hoisted him onto their shoulders and dragged him swiftly out of the Daemon's attack range.

However, blood and tears began to flow from the face in the center of the monster's chest, Lorgar Aurelian's face twitched, forcing the monster's body to erupt with a violent roar like a supernova explosion.

"Traitor!"

It roared and charged into the Word Bearers, its claws sweeping across them, tearing apart these offspring who had never seen it before like a bloodthirsty beast.

Many of them didn't even realize who the monster that killed them was until their very last second before they died. In shock and trembling, their souls fell into the Warp.

The Daemon, who had been waiting patiently, swarmed forward and devoured the souls.

Erebus made a deal with them. In order to make his legion powerful, he signed a contract on behalf of those who became Word Bearers, and it has only now been completed.

Spitting out blood, Erebus coughed and spoke weakly, "Where are our people?"

"We're on our way, sir," one of the men supporting him replied quickly, his voice a cacophony of razor-sharp words. "We've also brought many servants; your injuries can be healed with them."

"No, they're useless now," Erebus said, placing his right hand on the man's visor.

The sensation, like steel yet also like flesh, made him rub his fingers together involuntarily, leaving a bloody mark. The man thought this gesture was a compliment, but instead, a look of joy appeared on his nightmarish face.

However, just a second later, he and his brother let out a scream.

The Chaos and disordered Radiance shone again, easily melting their flesh and blood into the steel, turning it into pure nourishment that was completely absorbed by Erebus.

Although these people have long since mutated, they still Legacy the blood of Lorgar. While the ritual within the Dark Apostle was forcibly terminated, its backlash can be mitigated by absorbing sufficient amounts of Lorgar's blood.

Erebus coughed as he straightened up and began to run slowly.

His physical condition had improved somewhat, and at the same time, he once again invoked the power of the Empyrean. With more flashes of light, wave after wave of Word Bearers, obeying his commands, arrived from their ships.

The power of Chaos is so magnificent that it allows him to perform miracles in human form.

Erebus couldn't help but feel his heart surge with excitement again; his desires and ambitions resurfaced.

One ruthless order after another was issued by him, and his servants faithfully carried out his commands, charging back towards the charging monster.

They were dying constantly, losing their lives every second, but Erebus didn't care at all. His power had recovered somewhat, and as long as they bled to death, he could use the power of Chaos to extract the portion of Lorgar's blood he needed.

Whether they died at his hands or not was irrelevant; besides, the legion he commanded had existed in the material world for a full ten thousand years.

To put it dramatically, he has plenty of cannon fodder at his disposal.

The Dark Apostle gritted his teeth, his face contorted in a ferocious grimace, running while desperately trying to heal his body, all the while sending more human shields to die in his place.

He didn't care how or how many of them would die; he only wanted to find a way to break the deadlock as quickly as possible. Since this monster couldn't be driven out of the material world by the expulsion array, it proved that it wasn't an unborn being, but rather something else entirely.

Its existence is based solely on the material world, so let's use the laws within the material world to deal with it.

The Dark Apostle immediately devised a plan. He silently began preparing his spell, intending to use a binding array to gain the upper hand and teleport the monster to another location.

Admittedly, it would probably require him to expend a great deal of energy to successfully teleport to such a powerful creature, but once successful, everything would be over.

He could easily free up his time and energy to deal with the foolish Jago Sevatarion.

And if that person catches up, he might be able to use that idiot to blackmail him.

A series of plans took shape in an instant, and the Dark Apostle felt slightly relieved, but his thoughts were interrupted again by a piercing roar.

"Ai--"

He whirled around and just in time to see the creature's face on its chest open, its sharp teeth splitting open, and blood dripping from its eye sockets. A chill ran down his spine.

"Rui--"

He started running faster.

"Bar--"

He felt a gust of wind coming from behind him.

"S--!"

Five sharp claws pierced deep into his flesh, and the burning, boiling sensation returned, instantly turning his body, which he had painstakingly recovered a little, back to its previous state.

The monster roared and grabbed him, pulling him close. Erebus's vision blurred, and he nearly fainted from the overwhelming pain.

The monster generously helped him, trying to bring him back to his senses.

It clenched its claws, pinned him to the ground, extended its other claw, and used both claws to pierce his jaw, severing his tongue, crushing his teeth and the inside of his mouth, and finally even tearing his jaw off as well.

Blood gushed from Erebus's face like a waterfall. He trembled, clenched his fists, and convulsed as he silently chanted the name of the Tzeentch, summoning one of His endless spells.

A flame erupted from his hand, which he pressed against the monster's claws that were gripping him.

This flame, which Erebus had used to burn Adamantium, naturally melted the monster's claw in an instant.

It roared in pain, like a wild beast, but without the wild beast's instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm; all it had was madness.

In its agony, it didn't hesitate to extend its other claw, sweeping across like lightning, easily slicing open Erebus's chest, then plunging it deep inside and ripping out his internal organs.

The bright red, pulsating internal organs throbbed violently in its hand. Erebus's eyes widened, and in that instant, his mind was completely driven mad by the pain.

He screamed and grabbed at his intestines, trying to wrestle them back, like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, completely forgetting the consequences.

A burst of laughter echoed from the Warp. The Tzeentch gave this spectacle a high score and thus acted swiftly. The power of a deity was precisely fed back into the material realm, manifesting as a drifting blue feather.

It landed on Erebus's head and instantly seeped into his flesh. The next moment, his physical body began to change completely.

Bird-like wings emerged from behind the shoulders, the spine became thin and long, the feet transformed into bird legs, and countless raised spots appeared on the skin from which blue feathers emerged.

A tremendous force swept across, but Erebus's head roared from its excessively long neck, its voice devoid of any joy—if it wanted to ascend to demonhood, it could have done so long ago.

Given his achievements, none of the Four Ancient Ones would refuse him, but Erebus saw it clearly; he understood what ascension to the Demonic Realm meant, and therefore had always refused. But now...

It's over.

He came to this conclusion with utter despair: it was all over, there was no possibility of further ascension. Once he ascended to demonhood, he would be eternally Tzeentch's servant. Even if he still retained the right to his own will and thought, it was only because He allowed it.

"Oh, I'm not that vulgar, my dear Hand of Fate." Tzeentch's voice rang in his ears, full of laughter.

Erebus's eyes widened, his head swaying on his neck. He suddenly felt a void, a kind of nihilistic freedom—and in the next second, he understood what it was.

The Daemon of the Four Ancient Realms are all fragments of their respective powers, and now, the Tzeentch has personally thrown away this fragment that Erebus has become, granting him freedom, and even not forgetting to return the Precious Blood that belongs to Lorgar Aurelian.

Erebus suddenly screamed in agony, his body deforming again, twisting like putty. The monster ignored him and continued to attack him with its claws.

Its attack had a tremendous impact on Erebus; the changes stopped instantly, and the Dark Apostle now looked like a hybrid monster from a nightmare, devoid of any features, groaning and boiling on the floor like a lump of mud.

His face was faintly visible amidst melting bones and flesh. The monster couldn't help but laugh wildly, swinging its claws to impale him and pinning him to the wall. It then clenched its claws into fists and began to relentlessly punch his face.

Each blow was more violent than the last, and Erebus's bones and flesh began to crumble, with blood mist rising from his mud-like body.

He screamed incessantly, his reason briefly shattered. For the first time in his life, he was gripped by despair—and he couldn't even die.

Tzeentch returned to him not only Aurelian's blood, but also the ascension ritual. It was still operating, continuously drawing upon the flesh and blood of the fallen Word Bearers around it.

After being treated like a punching bag for a full nine minutes, Erebus finally regained consciousness.

He felt no shame, nor did he have the magnanimity to do so. Even as a monster, he was still Erebus. The Dark Apostle gathered psychic energy and unleashed it from his mud-like body, transforming it into a blinding flash of light.

He was extremely proficient in this spell; even without his hands, he could easily cast it through willpower.

It wasn't actually a flash of light in the true sense, but rather a "Deceit." The flash was merely a form of Deceit. Therefore, even though the monster wasn't afraid of the bright light, it was momentarily stunned by it.

Erebus's old trick had a perfect ending; he slid limply off the monster's claws, his body sliced into pieces, but he was still alive.

Astartes, Blood of Aurelian, Ascension Ritual, Tzeentch Daemon

The various powers brought by his different identities surged within this muddy body, making him incredibly ugly, yet granting him immense power.

The Dark Apostle let out a gurgling sound from his throat, which sounded almost like laughter. One of his eyeballs rolled out of its socket and fell into his outstretched right palm.

A flash of blue light appeared, and a massive amount of psionic energy surged into the surrounding air, completely imprisoning the monster. Then, it immediately began to change. The imprisonment transformed into teleportation; the switching between different types of spells was surprisingly effortless for Erebus.

A burst of blue light erupted, and he easily threw the monster off the ship called Night's Soul. As for where it would go, Erebus didn't care.

He immediately began to work on restoring his body. The light continued to shine, and amidst the cracking of his bones, he slowly stood up from the mud, but his nose was crooked, his eyes were slanted, his hands were behind his shoulders, and his legs were as fragile as thin, withered branches.

But that doesn't matter, I won, I won--!

With bloodshot eyes, Erebus roared incoherently into the darkness, as if to vent his frustration over everything he had just experienced.

He was so excited that he had never suffered such humiliation since he entered the church. The excitement of avenging his great enemy made him forget some things for a moment—for example, that this was a battlefield, and that someone was waiting in the darkness.

The chainsaw suddenly began to roar in the darkness.

With a series of footsteps, Jago Sevatarion emerged from the darkness, his expression calm.

"Run!" he said to Erebus, who suddenly screamed. "Let's see how far you can run."