"This is too damned weird..."
This was the phrase Lin Fan heard most often from Tzeentch. Tzeentch sat across from him, clutching her forehead with an unidentified cigar clenched between her fingers.
Tzeentch took a puff from time to time, using it to ease the increasingly obvious headache.
Khorne's indistinct voice rang by her ear: Can you useless trash even do this? If not, let me handle it. Daddy will teach you how to wage war.
"What's wrong, Tzeentch? Feeling like you can't play anymore? Then admit defeat. There's no fifteen-roll limit here."
Lin Fan's mockery drew a venomous glare from Tzeentch, but she did not retort. She merely stared at the battlefield, hoping to find an opportunity for a decisive victory.
Behind them were the Necrontyr attacking without regard for cost, while ahead lay a massive coalition army led by the Imperium of Man. The Primarchs who had unleashed the essence of the Warp were unstoppable. Tzeentch no longer had any pieces capable of matching the Primarchs, and could only watch helplessly as her territory shrank further and further.
Amid the many pieces of bad news, the sole good news was that the divine abode of the Four God puppets remained peaceful. Even the mighty Necrontyr could not break through to this place in such a short time.
The God-Emperor, The Emperor, and Isha.
They had yet to enter the battlefield, conserving their strength as much as possible. There was also no sign of the Legion of the Damned. Only Ferrus Manus stood at Fulgrim's side.
How should she fight next?
Tzeentch looked troubled, then turned toward Lin Fan. After suffering so many casualties and losing so much territory, she felt she had gained some understanding of the rules Lin Fan had concealed.
In a few tiny clashes that