All eight storms weakened at once, and the war zones sheltered beneath their enormous shadows took on a dim, cold gray hue.
The roars of Khorne's daemons grew weaker and weaker, their powerful bodies wasting away. The Khorne daemons rampaging across Biel-Tan Craftworld could barely raise their weapons anymore. The Greater Daemons that had once cleaved tanks apart like butter now could not even kill a single expeditionary soldier.
Perturabo watched in utter shock as an expeditionary soldier shouted, "For the Emperor!" then severed a Greater Daemon's ankle with his bayonet and, in passing, stabbed dozens of Bloodletters to death.
When one side weakened, it meant the other grew stronger. As Slaanesh's symbols and extensions of power, the Slaanesh daemons could naturally sense Slaanesh's novel experience of feeding on Khorne.
Lin Fan watched as the palm formed from a mass of daemons slowly withdrew from the storm. Its graceful contours had vanished, replaced by grotesque, diseased bloating, while its smooth skin had split open in countless places.
"Did Nurgle steal the kill?" Lin Fan muttered.
The palm slowly came apart, and the fused daemons separated into individual forms. Groups of fat, swollen blobs left Lin Fan stunned.
"Mas... master..."
Frowning as he carefully identified the voice, Lin Fan realized that the ball-like thing beside him was Shalaxi.
"You... how did you end up like this?"
"Madam is feeding on the Blood God's power. We can't digest it, so we've become more and more bloated..."
Shalaxi spoke with difficulty, then stared blankly at the sky with a dazed expression. Moans and bloody foam slowly spilled from her mouth.
"Are you feeling good or bad?"
"It's painful... but it's so novel!"
Seeing Shalaxi's foolish grin, Lin Fan knew Slaanesh had lost control. He leaped into the storm and saw hazy pinkish-purple slowly