The Divine Realm Unfolds!

Slaanesh's lips curled up slightly.

He wasn't angry; he was even a little excited.

After 65 million years, finally a Eldar god has been able to withstand two of His attacks without retreating an inch.

Who was that last time?

Kaine.

That brute took a blow from His blade, and then He kicked him into the wall of the Eldar Pantheon; the dent in the wall is still there to this day.

His hands trembled slightly, and the purple light on the two swords suddenly intensified.

He will no longer tempt; He is going to get serious.

Slaanesh's divine kingdom has descended.

They didn't "appear" from the void, but rather "grew" from the tips of those two swords.

Like vines growing from seeds, pink, luminous threads extend from the blade.

Those threads intertwined, coiled, and clung together in the void at an incredibly fast speed, so fast that even Guilliman's Smart Atoms could not capture them.

They wove together into a huge sphere, composed of countless fine lines, several kilometers around Asuryan. The inner wall of the sphere was pink, like the womb of some creature, while the outer wall was black, like solidified tar.

The sphere was not stationary; it was rotating, breathing, and wriggling.

Countless images emerged from the pink light emanating from the inner wall of the sphere—intertwined limbs, distorted faces, greedy lips, and dazed eyes.

The images kept changing, each frame making you blush and your heart race, each frame making you want to close your eyes but unable to resist opening them again.

That is Slaanesh's divine realm— the Six-Ring Domain.

It's not seven rings, it's six.

The seventh ring is still under construction. It is said that on the day it is completed, Slaanesh will become the most powerful of the Four Chaos Gods.

The six rings are nested together, each representing a desire—a desire to be loved, a desire to be noticed, a desire to be possessed, a desire to possess others, a desire to transcend limits, and a desire for eternal Pleasure.

Those desires flowed within the ring, like blood surging through veins, nourishing the entire divine kingdom, making it vibrant and lush.

Asuryan stood in the center of that pale golden divine kingdom, watching the pink sphere that was crushing towards him.

He could see the desires writhing within those rings, and he could see those desires eroding his divine kingdom—the pale golden light began to recede under the pressure of the pink spheres, like a city wall being pushed aside, bricks loosening and falling off one by one.

He raised his sword again.

This time, he didn't draw a circle, but stabbed.

The sword tip pierced the void, not towards Slaanesh, but towards the depths of his own divine realm.

The blade of the sword disappeared into the pale golden light, like piercing the surface of water, creating ripples.

The ripples spread outwards, and wherever they passed, the "cracks" that had been corrupted by the Slaanesh Kingdom began to heal, and the pale golden light became bright again.

"Eldar Pantheon, unfold."

Asuyan's voice wasn't loud, but those four words were like some ancient key, completely awakening the dormant power within that pale golden light.

A burst of light erupted.

It wasn't an explosion, but rather an orderly bloom, like a hundred flowers blossoming.

Starting from the point beneath Asuryan's feet, countless fine, mosaic-like patterns appeared on the ground—if the void could be called the ground.

Those lines converge into patterns, patterns converge into architecture, and architecture converge into cities.

In those pale golden lights, temples rose from the ground, not as physical entities, but as concepts!

The temple of the god of forging resounded with the crisp sound of hammers striking metal; the temple of the god of wisdom rustled with the turning of pages; and the temple of the god of art exuded the scent of paint mixed with turpentine.

Those sounds, those smells, those lights and shadows are all "marks" left by the gods when they were still alive. They are fragments of the gods' essence collected by Asuryan from all over the Warp over a period of 65 million years.

They are not living beings, but they carry the will of the gods.

Slaanesh's kingdom has crashed into the edge of the Eldar Pantheon.

The collision was silent, without any shockwaves, only a chilling "feel"!

Like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other, it's not a smooth collision, but a rough, grainy friction where every grain of sand seems to be screaming.

Pink and pale gold intertwine, eroding and devouring each other, defining each other's boundaries.

Slaanesh's desires sought to infiltrate the order of the Eldar Pantheon, Eldar Pantheon sought to suppress Slaanesh's desires.

The two divine kingdoms faced each other in the void, like two giant beasts vying for the boundary of their territories, neither willing to back down an inch.

Asuryan gripped his sword, his body leaning slightly forward, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

He is using divine power to maintain the operation of his divine kingdom, while Slaanesh is using Chaos energy to maintain his divine kingdom.

This is not a contest of fists and feet, but a game of strategy on a higher level!

Whoever's laws are more steadfast, their divine kingdom can last an extra second; whoever's will is more resolute, their boundaries can be pushed forward an inch.

Slaanesh suddenly laughed.

His two swords detached from his hands and hovered around him, their tips pointing in the direction of Asuryan.

His form began to change, not growing larger, but becoming blurred—His body transformed into a flowing, ever-changing mist within that pink light.

Within that mist were countless faces, countless mouths, countless eyes; every face was smiling, and every mouth was uttering murmurs that could melt your bones.

"Asuryan," a superimposed voice came from within the mist, "Do you know, my favorite god isn't someone like you."

You're too hard, like a rock, impossible to chew or break.

But I like chewing on stones, because stones hurt my teeth, and that's what makes it fun."

The cloud of mist suddenly contracted, then exploded.

The Greater Daemon of Slaanesh poured out of the mist.

Not just a few, not just a few dozen, but hundreds or thousands.

They come in various shapes; some resemble enlarged butterflies, with patterns on their wings resembling distorted human faces.

Some resemble snakes with six arms, each arm having a mouth in the palm, constantly licking something.

Some have no fixed shape at all, just a ball of light that constantly changes color, but that light contains an indescribable allure that makes people want to kneel down.

They surged forth from Slaanesh's divine realm like a swarm of wasps disturbed, rushing in overwhelming numbers towards the Eldar Pantheon.