Lin Fan could no longer spare any concern for the situation aboard the Biel-Tan Craftworld. He drifted through the void, observing his surroundings.
A chaotic backdrop of loose rock clusters and dust belts left behind by shattered planets, all cast in a vivid crimson hue. An Imperium fleet struggled bitterly amid the hordes of daemons, along with several Necrontyr flying tombs, black from end to end and gleaming with a dim green light.
Had Abaddon smashed Cadia ahead of schedule? Judging by the scale, this did not seem like what the Crimson Path should look like. At most, a single star system had been destroyed.
Looking down, Lin Fan discovered that the Biel-Tan Craftworld was embedded in an enormous, pulsating heart. Its white Wraithbone hull resembled a sacrificial dagger, while the daemons had all been formed from the blood spewed out by that heart.
Khorne no longer possessed the image of a warrior clad in heavy armor. The symbols of his authority were piled together in dense masses. Blades, guns, artillery, codes of law, glory, courage, hatred, fury, skulls, blood, discipline, order, survival of the fittest, fairness, and justice formed eight colossal storms beyond mortal comprehension, leaving even Slaanesh, who had yet to fully unleash her power, struggling to withstand them.
A faint streak of white weaved through the eight great storms, intangible and impossible to grasp. This appeared to be the power of hope that Tzeentch had cast aside.
"Hey! Khorne!" Lin Fan shouted. After witnessing the great deeds of the first Subjective One, he held reverence only for his own power.
The eightfold storm paused for an instant. Then, a fierce gale swept toward Lin Fan.
As the gale dispersed, an overwhelming army surrounded Lin Fan from every direction.
Eight Exalted Bloodthirsters each commanded eight Bloodthirsters, and those