What a pity my son isn't here

Vashtorr's mechanical brain was working frantically, trying to calculate his chances of survival.

Calculation result: 0.0000000000001%.

This is still an overestimation.

Because he could clearly sense the Psionic Energy energy contained within that body.

Its grandeur is beyond description.

The sheer force of the surge was indescribable.

The body was imbued with the full Psionic Energy of at least seven Lesser God.

Seven!

What does it mean to have seven Lesser God?

Those were seven terrifying entities capable of destroying galaxies.

Now, all their power is concentrated in one body.

That's not all.

There is an even more powerful, more ancient, and more terrifying force.

That is the power of the Dark King.

That was the Emperor's own power.

That was the Master of Mankind, who had ruled for eternity, personally taking to the field.

Seven Lesser God plus one Dark King.

Eight against one.

Vashtorr: I'm just a tech guy!

I just want to become a god!

What did I do to deserve this?!

He recalled his previous arrogance, his previous smugness, and his previous mockery of Lion—

All he wants now is to travel back in time and slap that version of himself across the face.

Let you be so cocky!

Let you mock me!

Now you're all better!

The Emperor himself is coming to behead you!

If the situation weren't so inappropriate, and if the Four Chaos Gods weren't on the verge of fleeing— the Emperor could right now rush into the depths of the Warp, storm into the Four Chaos Gods ' lair, and fight them again.

With the blessing of eight Lesser God, his own power, and the support of the Material Universe —he was confident he could kill two of them first.

At least two.

But unfortunately...

Now he is facing only Vashtorr.

A Dark Mechanicum who has not yet become a god.

A tech person.

One -- chicken.

Using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

A slight smile appeared on the Emperor's lips.

That smile contained irony, helplessness, and a hint of—satisfaction.

Ten thousand years.

After sitting on that damned throne for ten thousand years, listening to the nonsense of those bureaucrats, and watching those Chaos scumbags hopping around in the Milky Way —finally, I can stretch my muscles a bit.

Although it was just a substitute player.

Although it was only to deal with one Vashtorr.

But -- it feels good.

Vashtorr was utterly captivated by that smile.

His legs could no longer support him; his mechanical knees buckled, and his entire body collapsed to his knees.

"Emperor!"

His voice trembled, a tremor filled with fear, despair, and a sliver of—a will to survive.

"Please give me another chance!"

He knelt in the golden light, like a dog wagging its tail and begging for mercy.

"I am willing to serve the Imperium of Man! I am willing to be your tool! I am willing--"

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because the power of the Four Chaos Gods suddenly descended.

Deep within the Warp, four immense forces surged forth simultaneously, attempting to disrupt the Emperor's actions.

Those are the Four Chaos Gods.

They cannot allow the Emperor to kill Vashtorr.

It's not because they care about Vashtorr —that thing is dead, so what? What does it have to do with them?

Rather, it's because— Vashtorr is dead, so who will cripple the Imperium's technological systems?

Vashtorr is dead, so who will keep that blue-skinned madman in check?

Vashtorr is dead. Haven't they wasted their ten thousand years of effort?

Therefore, it must be protected.

Even if it's only temporary.

Four forces surged simultaneously toward Dragon Spirit Star, toward the golden light, attempting to—

Then they stopped.

Because deep within that Chaos realm, a cold sun is slowly rising.

The sunlight was pure gold.

The sun's temperature was enough to freeze all Chaos.

The existence of that sun was enough to make the Four Chaos Gods tremble simultaneously.

That was a contingency plan left by the Emperor in the Warp.

That was the arrangement made by the Dark King over ten thousand years.

That is the continuation of the Severing Heaven and Earth Connection.

Eight against four.

The advantage lies with the Imperium of Man.

The Four Chaos Gods looked at each other, at a loss for what to do.

Khorne waved his four arms wildly in a fit of rage:

"Go for it! What are you afraid of!"

Tzeentch's face darkened:

"You go? You go and block the sun?"

Khorne shut up.

He didn't want to go.

Anyone who wants to go can go.

Anyway, he's not going.

Terra.

In front of the Golden Throne.

Guilliman slowly withdrew his hand from the throne, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

That smile contained cunning, smugness, and a hint of—malice.

He indeed couldn't directly tear through the Warp to reach the Imperium Nihilus.

That's too far.

Warp is incredibly unstable; it changes constantly, one moment and the next.

Without coordinates or direction, venturing in recklessly is tantamount to suicide.

It requires repeated trial and error, repeated deduction, and so on—it's too troublesome.

but.

If we're talking about which path in the Warp is the easiest to traverse, which path is the most conspicuous, and which four coordinates are the most obvious—it would undoubtedly be the divine realm of the Four Chaos Gods!

Four enormous, radiant lighthouses, constantly emanating Chaos energy.

Guilliman's smile grew even brighter.

He reached out and grasped the Emperor's Sword.

That sacred relic that had been wielded on countless battlefields, that sharp blade that had slain countless enemies—it was waiting for him now.

He strode out.

A sword slashed down.

The void is torn apart.

Chaos energy from the Warp surged from the crack, emitting a piercing shriek.

Guilliman did not hesitate.

Step in.

Step into that endless Chaos.

Step into that eternal madness.

Stepping into—the enemy's lair.

Guilliman opened his arms.

The immense power of the Material Universe surged from his body and flowed into the Chaos ocean.

The force was like molten lava poured into ice water, instantly triggering a violent reaction.

The Warp is boiling.

It's trembling.

Wailing in pain.

Countless Warp creatures screamed and vanished under the impact of that power.

Those once invincible demons are as fragile as paper in the face of the laws of reality, crumbling at the slightest touch.

Those Chaos that once terrified countless worlds are like ants before the order of matter, utterly powerless.

This is corruption.

But it is not Warp corruption of reality.

It is Warp corrupted by reality.

Guilliman stood in that Chaos ocean, enveloped in the light of the Material Universe, like a lighthouse, like a star, like an intruder.

His gaze pierced through the endless Chaos and landed on the four enormous orbs of light.

It landed on those four divine realms.

It landed on the four Chaos Gods who were struggling with their thoughts.

His smile became even brighter.

In a one-on-one fight within the Material Universe, Guilliman is confident he can completely defeat any Chaos Gods.

But this is Warp.

On the enemy's home turf, he could barely stall for time, which was already the limit.