The Might of Flame

The battle between Lorgar and Bishop Lot had long surpassed an ordinary fight to the death. It was a violent collision in the material realm between two utterly different, fundamentally incompatible powers.

Though Bishop Lot's body looked bloated, he moved with unnatural speed. Psychic energy in four colors flowed and shifted around him like living things. At times, his fists struck with Khorne's brutal scarlet aura, making the air explode when they slammed toward Lorgar. At others, his movements became sluggish and viscous as Nurgle's rotten green radiance spread across his body. Lorgar's mountain-splitting punches landed on him as though striking ruined leather; most of their force was absorbed and dispersed by that psychic energy brimming with diseased vitality, while the damage was repaired in an instant by writhing flesh. Sometimes, he conjured twisted, deceitful runes of Tzeentch's azure psychic energy from thin air, attempting to disrupt and bind Lorgar's movements, or unleashing mental blasts that drilled into Lorgar's consciousness. Occasionally, his attacks carried Slaanesh's purple phantoms, moving so quickly they left afterimages, their vicious and tricky techniques striking straight for vital points with a disturbing, sinister beauty.

He combined the blessings of the four gods. Though far from seamless and perfect, they made his fighting style extraordinarily strange and unpredictable, impossible to guard against. Lorgar's invincible golden flames and absolute strength were, for a time, restrained by this endless stream of profane powers with differing properties. The battle reached a stalemate. His flaming sword could cleave through scarlet killing aura, only to be slowed by a green barrier; he could shatter deceitful runes, only to face purple assaults darting in like venomous snakes.

Lorgar frowned deeply, light flashing rapidly in his violet eyes. He felt stifled. The other man's energy level did not seem much higher than his own, yet those ever-changing, mutually complementary traits made him feel as though he had fallen into a swamp, unable to fully exert his strength.

With every exchange, his pure psychic energy instinctively conveyed an intense urge to reject and purify. At the same time, he vaguely sensed that deep within his opponent's filthy energy, there seemed to lurk a trace of... fear toward him?

If not for that faint sense of restraint, he felt that he might truly have fallen into a disadvantage in this battle.

Zhou Beichen watched from the side with his heart in his throat. Psychic energy surged through the core of their battlefield, warping the air. Escaping energy carved deep ravines into the ground or coated it in disgusting slime and frost.

He gripped his laser pistol, trying several times to take aim, only to find that he could not catch a viable firing window at all. Their movements were too fast, and the energy interference was too powerful. Firing recklessly could very well hit Lorgar.

"Fuck, this is way beyond anything I can get involved in..." He spat, suppressing his anxiety as he swiftly changed roles. His sharp gaze swept across the outskirts of the battlefield, where the remaining fanatical believers and scattered mutants were still stirring restlessly. Though Lorgar's earlier slaughter had intimidated them, the twisted church and Bishop Lot's presence still encouraged quite a few to approach and interfere with the battle.

"I can't let them disturb Lorgar." Zhou Beichen's eyes turned cold, and his laser pistol once again spat deadly beams. He no longer pursued kills. Instead, he fired precisely at the ground ahead of enemies attempting to approach the battle zone, or shot their legs, effectively slowing them and creating a relatively undisturbed environment for Lorgar's decisive battle.

At the center of the battlefield, after adapting to Lot's chaotic and ever-changing attack rhythm, Lorgar's mind analyzed and calculated at an unprecedented speed. He realized that rather than letting his opponent lead him by the nose, he might as well create an opening himself.

He deliberately exposed a flaw. While blocking a scarlet heavy punch, he intentionally let his body falter slightly, as if shaken by that savage force. Colored light flashed in Lot's eyes. Sure enough, he took the bait. Almost instinctively, azure psychic energy representing Tzeentch surged forth, and several twisted psychic chains meant to bind the mind appeared from thin air, coiling toward Lorgar!

Now!

A sharp gleam burst from Lorgar's eyes! Rather than struggling or defending against the mental assault as Lot expected, he suddenly drew all the golden flames over his body inward, compressing and concentrating them onto his right fist! In an instant, that fist became like a miniature sun, radiating searing heat and brilliance impossible to look at directly! He ignored the psychic chains winding toward him, pouring all his strength and will into this blow. With the purest, most direct violence, he struck at Bishop Lot's chest, which had momentarily stalled from using psychic energy and was protected only by Nurgle's green barrier!

"Roar!"

Realizing he had been tricked, Lot let out a furious, startled roar as the green barrier surged madly in an attempt to block the attack. But that highly compressed Purifying Flame contained all of Lorgar's will toward order and purification. It seemed born to be the nemesis of such filthy energy!

Pfft—!

There was no earth-shattering explosion, only a muffled, bizarre sound, like a red-hot branding iron plunging into rotten flesh. The golden fist pierced the green barrier without obstruction and sank deep into Bishop Lot's swollen chest!

"Aaargh—!" Lot let out a shriek more miserable than any before. His vortex-like multicolored eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. No blood flowed from the spot where his chest had been struck. Instead, it rapidly blackened and carbonized, and the charred marks spread across the rest of his body like living things! The four-colored psychic energy around him became like ice dropped into boiling oil, violently bubbling, evaporating, and falling into complete chaos.

"No... impossible! Gods... Father God... save me!" Lot struggled wildly, looking up at the sky blanketed in multicolored mist as he cried out in desperate devotion. "Angels! Noble angels! Save the souls of your devout followers!"

As if answering his plea, the multicolored fog above the twisted church churned violently, and space seemed to be torn open in four places. Amid teeth-grinding tearing sounds and four utterly distinct yet equally profane whispers and shrieks, four figures radiating terrifying pressure slowly descended.

They were the so-called "four angels" Lot had spoken of.

The first was massive, covered in armor formed from brass and scarlet flesh. Twisted giant horns rose from its head, and it carried a huge axe burning with the eternal flames of hatred. It spoke no words; only an endless roar of hunger for slaughter and skulls came from behind its faceplate. It was Khorne's emissary, the embodiment of violence.

The second was fat and bloated, like a giant pieced together from countless rotting tumors. Pus and plague flowed over its entire body, while flies circled it in a cloud that never dispersed. It gave a gurgling, benevolent laugh like that of a drowning man, holding a rusty plague bell that radiated the aura of absolute death. It was Nurgle's favored one, decay incarnate.

The third constantly changed shape, like a conglomeration of countless azure eyes, twisted tentacles, and flickering runes. It possessed no fixed form. Its whispers sounded like ten thousand conspirators murmuring at once, filled with lies, schemes, and manipulation of fate's threads. It was Tzeentch's daemon lord, the voice of change.

The fourth possessed an alluring yet bizarre figure. Its skin resembled the most flawless marble, yet it bore extra arms posed seductively. Its face was beautiful to the point of distortion, while its eyes held only a hollow longing for ultimate sensory stimulation. It held a tuning-fork-like instrument, and with a gentle vibration, it released decadent sounds that could tear apart the soul directly and stir the deepest desires. It was Slaanesh's Daemonette, the shriek of pleasure.

The instant those four "angels" descended, the terrifying pressure of Chaos made Zhou Beichen's breathing hitch, and he nearly lost his grip on his pistol.

Yet after their blasphemous, malicious gazes swept over Bishop Lot, who had been grievously wounded by Lorgar and stood on the verge of collapse, they all focused on Lorgar. Within those gazes, there was actually... a strange kind of "admiration" and "delight"?

The ever-changing daemon lord of Tzeentch spoke in overlapping echoes. "Child of God... a true child of God... To cross hands with you and glimpse that faint light of... 'order'... what a... delightful variable..."

The roaring creature of Khorne also temporarily suppressed its urge to kill, and a dull rumble came from beneath its brass faceplate. "...A powerful soul... worthy... of slaughter!"

The benevolent daemon of Nurgle gurgled with laughter. "...Come, child... enter Father's embrace... Your 'perfection' shall eventually... decay..."

The seductive Daemonette of Slaanesh whispered in a voice capable of stirring endless desire. "...Such pure power... If I could taste the moment of its fall... what... ecstasy..."

Their voices, forms, and wills were utterly different, yet at this moment, they reached a bizarre consensus—this so-called "child of God" was worth personally trying to claim, or rather... destroy.

The four Chaos daemons attacked Lorgar at once! Scarlet axe-light tore through the earth, the plague bell rang out waves of death, deceitful psychic energy wove traps, and seductive music corroded his will!

Faced with this terrifying siege, far more powerful than Bishop Lot, Lorgar's pupils contracted sharply. He drove his golden flames to their utmost limit, preparing for a desperate battle he was certain would kill him.

But in the next instant, another change occurred.

When the Khorne creature's giant axe struck Lorgar's crossed arms, burning with golden flame as they blocked it, the terrifying force capable of cleaving a tank apart was actually stopped dead! Furthermore, the flames of hatred twined around the axe blade let out shrill cries the instant they touched the golden fire, as though encountering their natural predator. They swiftly dimmed and went out! The creature released a roar of astonishment.

The plague ripples released by Nurgle's daemon dissipated rapidly as though purified upon nearing the golden radiance around Lorgar. They could not corrupt him in the slightest!

The psychic traps woven by Tzeentch's daemon lord became riddled with flaws under Lorgar's psychic perception, which contained the will of order, making them difficult to activate!

The seductive music of Slaanesh's Daemonette struck Lorgar's will, firm as steel and pursuing pure order, like a breeze brushing against a mountain cliff. It had no effect whatsoever!

Lorgar himself was astonished. Fighting these "angels" brought immense pressure and rapidly drained his energy, but it somehow felt... easier than fighting Bishop Lot and his bizarre methods? Their filthy essence seemed to be completely restrained by his golden flames...

His spirits soared. No longer hesitating, he drove the power of the Purifying Flame to unprecedented heights. Like a golden whirlwind, he charged straight at the four daemons! His flaming sword swept and cleaved, shattering scarlet axe-light; his fists burned with radiance that purified all things, blasting apart plague ripples; his psychic perception saw through schemes and countered traps; his unwavering will stood like bedrock against the corrosive sound waves.

The battle was fierce yet brief. Lorgar seized an opportunity and traded injury for death. He endured a slash from the Khorne creature, then struck back with his sword, cleaving the roaring daemon in half from head to toe. Golden flames instantly burned its remains to ash!

With one fallen, the remaining three daemons retreated in defeat. Lorgar closed in on the Nurgle daemon, and his heavy fists, containing the power of pure purification, struck its bloated body repeatedly, sending pus flying everywhere. In the end, amid unwilling gurgles, it exploded into foul-smelling green smoke that filled the sky.

Tzeentch's daemon lord attempted to twist space and flee, but Lorgar anticipated its position. A golden fire spear condensed to the utmost extreme pierced its core azure eye, reducing it to nothing amid shrieks.

Seeing that the situation had turned against it, Slaanesh's Daemonette turned to flee. Lorgar raised a hand and swept it outward. A golden firestorm surged forth, swallowing its alluring, twisted body. Amid screams of ultimate pain and some warped pleasure, it turned to drifting ash.

With the deaths of the four "angels," Bishop Lot, who had already been beaten to the brink of death by Lorgar's punch, released one final despairing wail. His swollen body seemed to lose all support, rapidly shriveling and carbonizing before, with a bang, completely turning to ash and scattering into the air.

Almost at the same time, the twisted, writhing church let out a groan of collapse. The flesh on its surface rapidly withered and peeled away, its structure began to crumble, and it toppled with a thunderous crash, throwing dust into the sky.

The fanatical believers who had been wandering nearby collapsed one after another like puppets whose strings had been cut, losing all signs of life. The strange growths on their bodies, the tumors on the ground, and the multicolored fog all melted and withered like snow beneath sunlight, as if they had never existed. Only the charred marks and shattered ruins left by the battle proved what had just happened.

The battle was over.

Lorgar stood where he was, the wound on his shoulder slowly healing beneath the scorching golden flame. He breathed lightly, his violet eyes filled with immense confusion. The term "angels," their fear and restraint toward his power, the true nature of his golden flames... too many questions surged into his mind.

He turned to look at Zhou Beichen, who was walking over.

Zhou Beichen looked over the battlefield's devastation, which was rapidly "returning to normal," then looked at Lorgar's question-filled eyes. With a helpless shrug, he pointed back in the direction they had come from.

"Don't look at me. I'm fucking clueless too," he said. "Whatever questions you have, we'll talk after we get back. I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for one more minute."

Lorgar nodded silently and temporarily suppressed the questions filling his mind.