Shattered Idols, the Dead Return to Life (End)

Sevatar swung his right hand, sweeping the chainsaw horizontally.

If he had pointed the blade at Erebus, whose appearance had become twisted and mutated like a deformed child, he would probably have been cut in half at the waist immediately. But Sevatar did not do that; he chose to use the side of the chainsaw.

Therefore, even though it shattered the air and struck Erebus with immense force, he was only knocked to the ground. However, just a few seconds later, he got up, spitting blood.

However, even without using the blade, Sevatar's strength and the weight of the chainsaw itself were real. Erebus was hit so hard that the bones in his back protruded from his chest, and bits of flesh kept falling from the huge open wound.

He breathed heavily, enduring the pain, and struggled forward, leaning against the corridor wall of the Soul of Night, leaving a series of bloody handprints on the wall.

Sevatar followed him at a leisurely pace for a while, then delivered another blow, knocking him to the ground once more.

The once invincible Dark Apostle screamed and collapsed to the ground, appearing extremely weak.

His body structure was completely remodeled. His nervous system, which had long been accustomed to pain, was now as tender as a newborn's. All traces left by the Astartes modification surgery were erased, and there was no trace of his former appearance.

If there's anything resembling him from before, it's probably only his skin now covered in scriptures, but even that's only a slight resemblance. The tattooed characters are no longer neat; instead, they're twisted and overlapping, looking like countless dark insect eggs.

Sevatar stepped back, standing beside him, and suddenly stomped on those two withered, branch-like legs, snapping them in two. Erebus's bones didn't even have a chance to crack before they were completely reduced to a pulp, along with his skin and muscles.

His screams echoed throughout the corridor, yet he did not give up. He even began to drag his body forward with his deformed hands that grew from behind his shoulder blades.

Sevatar stared at him mockingly, letting him crawl slowly without stopping him. She simply walked beside him, chainsaw halberd in hand, and began to scoff softly.

"Great Lord Erebus, what's wrong with you? Why are you crawling on the ground like a maggot? Where are your prized schemes and Warp magic? Why aren't you using them?"

Erebus didn't answer him, only continued crawling. The Dark Apostle's mind seemed to have a slight lapse, or perhaps this was merely a deliberate disguise, intended only to lower Sevatar's guard.

Behind the skeletal face, Sevatar revealed a subtle smile.

He knew Erebus all too well; he knew exactly how ruthless this despicable bastard would stop at nothing to survive. This humiliation, for example, was nothing more than a feigned show of weakness.

He knew that if he relaxed his guard even slightly, even just a little, the venomous snake Erebus would leap from the ground and bite through his throat.

Let's go then.

Sevatar casually turned off the chainsaw's motor, hoisted it onto his shoulder with a nonchalant air, and then gently placed his foot on Erebus's chest, staring into his eyes and slowly shaking his head.

He didn't say anything, he just started applying pressure little by little.

The weight of the Power Armour and his own strength sank into Erebus's chest through the heavy steel boots. He opened his deformed mouth, and behind his crooked teeth lay half a thin tongue, looking utterly disgusting.

He tried to breathe, but couldn't, as Sevatar was gradually increasing the pressure on him. He watched with satisfaction as Erebus's face slowly turned a suffocating bluish-purple, his remaining eye seeming about to pop out of its socket.

Finally, with a slightly muffled thud, Sevatar's steel boot sank into his chest.

Erebus didn't scream, but his body convulsed, and bubbling blood trickled from his seven orifices, as if he was about to die and posed no further threat.

Sevatar simply withdrew his blood-stained right foot and casually put down the chainsaw. It landed heavily on the ground, its unrotating monomolecular saw blade deeply embedded in the enchanted steel.

Within those fine holes, something resembling magma could be faintly seen.

"Stop pretending, you're not going to die, you bastard," Sevatar said calmly. "Get up and keep running."

Erebus did not answer, nor did he move, as if he were dead.

However, just seconds later, the instant Sevatar casually looked away, the Dark Apostle's hands, which had become bloody and mangled from crawling, suddenly came to life.

A spell, long prepared, burst forth from between the ugly fingers, unaffected by the deformed, toothy, and even twisted fingers.

In a way, the Warp is quite fair in this respect. Whether it's a one-eyed person, a blind person, or this freak in the present moment, they can all receive help from magic.

Knowledge will not Deceit you, unless the person who imparts that knowledge to you has impure intentions.

--Of course, the same principle applies to Sevatar as well.

He recognized the spell, so he slightly turned his head to dodge a black light that followed from Erebus's fingertips. Then he quickly bent down, turned around, and swung his right hand.

The gauntlet slid down the handle of the chainsaw to the last section and pressed the motor switch.

The saw blade began to spin, and the acceleration, gravity, and inertia brought even greater destructive power, allowing it to easily disembowel a Gargoyle- like creature that had appeared silently.

Mud-like entrails fell to the ground, but Sevatar did not let it go so easily. Instead, he drew his chainsaw, reached behind his head with one hand, and raised this cruel weapon high.

The Gargoyle howled fiercely, showing no fear despite its injuries; instead, its ferocity was aroused. It flapped its bronze-like fleshy wings and charged straight at Sevatar, only to be cleaved in two by the chainsaw in mid-air.

Flesh and blood fell to the ground and quickly turned into stone, leaving no trace of life.

Sevatar sheathed his weapon, turned around, and unsurprisingly saw Erebus completely vanished, along with a long trail of blood.

He laughed, a deliberately chilling laugh, and casually slammed the chainsaw to the ground again, letting it make intimate contact with the earth. Mars flew everywhere, and his Shadow danced on the wall like a monstrous demon from hell, utterly ferocious.

Sevatar dragged his chainsaw and followed the trail of blood.

Playing this kind of trick is really low.

He followed the trail to a corner, and sure enough, he saw Erebus there. The Dark Apostle had somehow regained his normal body; at least his hands were back in place, and his legs were no longer as thin and straight as withered branches.

He stood in the darkness, panting heavily, staring at Sevatar with undisguised resentment on his face.

"Is that all?" Sevatar asked. "Is this all that the renowned Erebus of the galaxy can do? To eke out a living, with your spine broken by me, crawling on the ground like maggots, and in the end only managing to run this far. How pathetic."

Erebus roared in a low voice, his resentment turning into utter madness.

"I will kill you! I will definitely kill you, Jago Sevatarion!"

Sevatar nodded at him and walked forward indifferently, as if his previous scathing remarks, which never missed an opportunity to mock him, were just an act, or perhaps he was simply too lazy to waste any more words.

A blue light shone, Erebus raised his hands. Immediately, the most common destructive spells, such as frost, fire, and lightning, appeared in the darkness along with the fluctuations of psionic energy.

Violent currents surged forth like long snakes, leaping at incredible speed. Flames began to burn silently and quickly spread to the ground. Frost, shaped into spikes or blades, burst forth, tearing through the air and shooting straight at Sevatar's face.

These attacks were enough to deal with most Astartes. Even as Librarian, it would be difficult to deal with three equally dangerous spells at the same time. Yet, Erebus did not relax; he still felt it was not enough.

He knew exactly what Jago Sevatarion was hiding under that human skin.

A shimmering blue light began to dance in the newly formed eyes of Erebus. Dimensions were torn apart, space was folded, and crack after crack was artificially opened in the darkness.

The Dark Apostle has begun casting long-range teleportation spells without regard for the cost, something he could never have done without the support of the Tzeentch. He himself is aware of this, but he has no time to delve into the reasons behind it.

He simply kept using shaping spells, creating more fissures, and bringing his minions over from the Abyss-class warship behind Litatera.

In an instant, the spacious deck of the Soul of Night was once again crowded with people, but they were no longer Shadow Knights, but Word Bearers wearing scarlet armor and possessing mutated features.

They all turned to look at Jago Sevatarion, watching him extinguish the flames, dispel the Thunder, and shatter the ice. Then, to the roar of Erebus, they raised their blood-stained guns and knives.

"Kill him!" the Dark Apostle roared, utterly devoid of his former composure. "Whoever kills him will be promoted! I will personally preside over his anointing ceremony!"

"Then send them into the greedy maws of the Warp Daemon, so you can regain some power for yourself?"

Sevatar finally broke into laughter, a stark contrast to his previous quietness, as if he were suffering from some kind of hysteria or mental problem.

However, he said nothing more, simply disappearing into the darkness before the group of traitors. Five seconds later, he descended from the sky, leaping with the help of the Soul of Night into the midst of a group of Word Bearers who were on guard with guns.

The chainsaw swung wildly, sending limbs flying high into the air, and heads crashing to the ground. Headless or mutilated corpses swayed and fell to the ground, but Sevatar killed faster and faster.

He turned around, his body radiating blood, and strode forward, like a sharp dagger piercing straight into the heart of the Word Bearers, his target Erebus.

The Dark Apostle saw his pitch-black eyes with perfect clarity and, without any regard for his image, let out a piercing scream, "Kill him!"

He was urging, he was giving orders. At this moment, even those who had been completely Word Bearers by him sensed that something was wrong.

Sevatar, however, was quite Mercy and did not allow them to continue thinking. Instead, he used pure violence to dismantle Erebus's orders into a series of deaths.

He swept across like a storm, so fast that even the Astartes couldn't see him clearly, and the mutated flesh-and-blood Power Armour was equally unable to stop his terrifying power and precision.

Blood and death are the only ways to tell where he is now; wherever people are dying, wherever people are being dismembered, that is where he is.

Erebus was taken aback. He had been forced to endure too many provocations today, yet he still couldn't understand it.

Jago Sevatarion still possesses divine grace, that much is certain. But he hasn't activated it, nor has he used psionic powers like he did on Calth.

He was fighting entirely on his own strength, but what made an Astartes possess such power?

"That's because of the ship he's standing on, the outstretched hand of fate I've extended."

The voice of the Tzeentch chuckled as it came from the depths of the Warp, reaching his ears.

"Haven't you noticed yet? You've been so focused on running for your life that you haven't been paying attention to where you're stepping? That's not the mindset of a wise person. Take a closer look."

He laughed and left. Erebus hesitated for less than half a second before immediately beginning to observe the Soul of Night as the Tzeentch had instructed.

He knew this would inevitably lead him into some kind of trap, but the worst thing that could be worse than his current situation was death—so what was there for him to hesitate about?

The Dark Apostle swept his gaze across the corrupted steel and the deep darkness, his innate, serpentine keen observation quickly pinpointing the problem.

It's transforming into an altar, an altar that gathers hatred to nourish and strengthen Jago Sevatarion. But wouldn't he be forced to ascend to demonhood because of this? Even with divine favor, he couldn't possibly be so arrogant, or...?

Erebus recalled the mask that Sevatar had put on his face, and suddenly the answer came to him.

I see.

He suddenly grinned maliciously, his hands waving as more teleportation spells were unleashed.

This time, however, he only deployed a small number of people around him. The rest of the Word Bearers from another Abyss-class warship were teleported to various locations on the Soul of Night.

You want to become an altar, is that it? Then how can an altar be without a priest who worships the gods?

A thought was transmitted through the imprint he had later created in the minds of those Word Bearers. The command issued was not to kill or destroy, but to pray, a prayer of utmost devotion.

Pray fervently to the Four Ancients, to Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaanesh, and Nurgle. Proclaim their names aloud, and the names of every holy Greater Daemon under their command. Sing hymns, offer yourselves as sacrifices, and testify to the gods of our piety!

Erebus raised his head, ending his speech. The air around him immediately began to change, and the servants he had summoned faithfully carried out his orders, and immediately at that.

One after another, traitors, already thoroughly corrupted by Chaos, ripped open their chests, removed their hearts one by one, and either shredded them with ceremonial knives they carried, or simply squeezed them with their bare hands to extract blood.

A sacred song was thus sung in unison and began to drift through the Night's Soul.

Sevatar abruptly stopped, but the chainsaw in his right hand continued its relentless advance, cruelly sawing open the upper half of a Word Bearers's face.

His skull and eyes flew through the air, and half of his brain splattered onto the wall. He screamed immediately, Sevatar caught up with him in two steps, punching him hard in the back with his left fist, creating a gash, and then immediately reaching in to insert his hand into it.

His sharp fingers sliced through flesh and blood, and with his strength, they penetrated deep inside, grabbing a spine.

Sevatar gripped it, beginning to control the traitor to shield himself from the bullet, but no longer focused his attention on the other Word Bearers. Taking advantage of this moment, he turned to look at Erebus, just in time to see the smile that had returned to the latter's sickly face.

The mournful cry of the Night's Soul rose in his ears the next second.

Well, Sevatar thought. At least I learned a thing or two from the respectable Perturabo.

He released his grip, letting the mangled, rotting flesh fall to the ground and disappear into the darkness once more. This time, Erebus showed no panic; instead, he deliberately smiled.

He knew the ruthless, deadly killer hadn't gone far, but what did it matter? He wanted to pressure him, provoke him, and force him to reveal a weakness.

He'd been doing this ever since he met Jago Sevatarion on this ship. Sevatar was wary and hadn't given him a chance, but now?

As the chance to kill me slips through your fingers, as Chaos seizes the ship, can you still remain calm?

Erebus smiled, raised his hands, and cast a spell, shouting, "Jago, my dear Jago! I have something to tell you: your brothers are facing a Chaos God on the surface of Litatera— "

"--I don't care," Jago Sevatarion said coldly.

His mask was gone, and he descended from the darkness, his body radiating blood, pale as Ghost, the emblem of the Midnight Blade gleaming on his shoulder armor.

The chainsaw pierced through Erebus's chest, but the Dark Apostle suddenly reached out and grabbed him. The air surged, and five ferocious claws from the Khorne's domain tore through the air, piercing into Sevatar's back, and even emerging from Erebus's back.

"I won," the Dark Apostle said with difficulty. "This is different from the future I saw, but I still won. You have no other choice but to become a demon, Jago."

Sevatar didn't speak, only looked at him with a cold smile. Erebus's smile, which had just appeared, instantly froze on his face—for no other reason than that the deck of the Soul of Night was trembling.

The next second, it began to disintegrate, and brilliant flames and magma-like Radiance erupted from beneath their feet, like a volcanic eruption, completely engulfing everything.

Amidst the flames, a sliver of golden light fell upon Litatera's near-Earth orbit.

On the ground, Karyl Lohars witnessed the spectacular explosion, yet his bloodied face showed no sorrow.

"Chapter Master Kaul," he called softly. "I think you might need to get a new ship from Chapter Master Jago Sevatarion."

The Shadow Knights' Chapter Master looked at him with a puzzled expression, but didn't say a word. He just gripped the stretcher tightly in his hands, as if afraid it would fall to the ground.