Lin Fan let out a soft sigh, brushed off his clothes, and slowly rose to his feet.
Seeing this, Tzeentch asked with a grin, "What is it, Subjective One? Are you going to admit defeat?"
Lin Fan shot them a look. Rather than answer directly, he asked, "Do you know why so many races and factions are involved in our fleet? Even though their numbers are small, their contributions limited, and some of them could even be called utterly useless?"
"Because of the rules you've been hiding all along? Different races have different rules, and you wanted to use that to devise targeted counters?"
"You got part of it right. Think about the other part."
"The other part?" Tzeentch blinked, then continued, "Because of that inexplicable compassion of yours? You want to use this battle to ease the hatred between races and factions? You're practically a saint. Isha was unable to stop Slaanesh's birth precisely because she was too soft-hearted, which ultimately led to the fall of the Aeldari Empire..."
"A saint?" Lin Fan laughed a few times. "Having the power to destroy the entire universe in an instant and choosing not to does not make me a saint."
"Heh... whatever makes you happy." Tzeentch did not care in the slightest about Lin Fan's view of himself. All they cared about was their current advantage on the battlefield, the exhilaration of defeating the Subjective One spreading through their entire being.
All they had to do now was wait for Lin Fan to concede. Then Tzeentch could usher in a second era, a new age even more chaotic and disorderly. They would become the master of all things, freely guiding mortals to slaughter and deceive one another for their amusement.
Even if Lin Fan went back on his word and, consumed