Spear

Perturabo still had not abandoned Rogal Dorn. Cursing under his breath, he headed off into the distance.

A spear forged from light was pinned against Khorne's world-ending greatsword. Lin Fan gripped the spear one-handed and hung there. "Hey, Khorne, how about a fight?"

"Heh... So you finally stopped running? You bastard!" Khorne, possessing Khârn's body, flowed outward. The grim aura of war forged new armor and weapons, while bone-deep hatred condensed into a boiling body of blood.

One percent of the Blood God's power was unleashed here. The black starry sky glowed crimson beneath the Warp's corruption, while skull-shaped clouds of gunpowder smoke bled from their eye sockets.

Amalaga's pupils contracted slightly. He felt that he needed to leave himself a way out. He split off his flesh, leaving behind one hand, then leaped from the absurdly spacious rooftop.

Fragments of the greatsword smashed through the building's roof. Fortunately, the building's structure was sturdy enough that it did not even shake under such an impact. However, the collectibles ground to dust by the sword fragments inside caused Trazyn, now reduced to only a head, unbearable grief.

"No! Yilafren! Save that painting! And that statue! No!"

"Shut up! Escaping is more important!"

"Then I'd rather die here! No!"

Seeing everyone evacuating in an orderly fashion through his helmet, Lin Fan finally breathed a sigh of relief. He checked the Praetor Suit on his body. He had forcibly made it himself with hard-light printing equipment, relying on his memories.

At first, he could not remember many of the details at all, and what he made looked little better than a child's scribbles. Somehow, that hard-light printer seemed to have suddenly gotten the idea. It produced the Praetor Suit in one go, along with a spear of light that could be thrown repeatedly