"My master... you wish to enter Bottom Line?" Gukalad was using his heavily bio-modified arms to assemble a high-speed anti-gravity motorcycle. What appeared to be mere flesh and exposed bone possessed unimaginable hardness and sharpness, effortlessly slicing atomic plates into perfect shapes before fitting them together with precision.
This sort of vehicle work seemed so elegant and swift in the hands of Gukalad, once a master among the Haemonculi, much like the great flesh sculptures he had once created. Though Gukalad's appearance was far too horrifying; in any movie, a single glimpse of him would be enough to leave people traumatized.
"I can enter... or not enter. You lunatics never had any rules anyway, did you?" The Khan lifted a porcelain cup he carried with him. It contained green tea, and he slowly savored its wonderfully bitter-sweet taste.
"Indeed, master. Bottom Line has no rules. You may register, join at the last minute, enter halfway through, or even hunt the racers... There is only one rule: first acquire the faces of a thousand fools, then scale the tallest Archon spire and earn the admiration of the great Victor for your skill..."
Gukalad laughed darkly as he slowly described to Lin Fan the vile acts that crossed every Bottom Line in those races. Of course, for the Drukhari, whose hedonism and indulgence had reached their peak, naming the race Bottom Line was merely their nihilistic way of mocking the universe.
Gukalad had aptly described the cultural character of the Drukhari—or rather, the final way of life of those Aeldari of the ancient Aeldari Empire. Imagine being trapped in immortality and immense power, with the stars freely reshaped in your hands. Today, you could create an entire Suiryu Kei's Paradise; tomorrow, turn this planet into a slaughterhouse for an epic battle royale.