Did Not Move
Asuryan did not move.
He doesn't need to move.
He tilted his head slightly and glanced at Kaine, the God of War, who was standing at the edge of the Eldar Pantheon.
Kaine was lost in thought.
No, I wasn't spacing out; I was feeling the power of my new body.
He looked down at his hands, where a dark red, magma-like flow of energy was gathering in his palms, which were covered in blood-red armor.
He could sense the violence contained within that energy; it was pure, unadulterated, and it evoked an impulse to destroy everything.
That was Khorne's blessing, something the Blood God had secretly slipped into his body during their deal.
He wasn't unaware of this, but he didn't refuse, because he needed that power.
He disliked Khorne, distrusted Khorne, and even loathed Khorne.
But he loved power, the power that allowed him to tear his enemies to shreds.
"Kaine."
Asuryan's voice came through.
Kaine raised his head, a hint of impatience flashing in his bloodshot eyes.
Just as he was about to say "I understand," a pink light shot out from Slaanesh's divine realm. The light was so fast that he had no time to dodge and could only instinctively raise his left arm to shield his face.
The light exploded the moment it struck his arm, turning into a cloud of pink mist.
Countless sounds emanated from the mist—the shrill laughter of Keeper of Secrets, the whispers of desire, and a sensation as soft as a feather brushing against the skin.
On Kaine's left arm, the armor stained with mist began to change color, from dark red to pink, and from pink to an eerie purple.
His arm began to tremble uncontrollably, not from fear, but from the sensation that made him want to drop his weapon.
Kaine's eyes widened suddenly.
He raised the greatsword with his right hand, without any hesitation, giving the mist no time to continue eroding him, and the greatsword, with a whistling sound, slashed at his own left arm.
It's not about slashing at the enemy, but about slashing at oneself.
The blade pierced his left arm, slicing away the armor, which was corroded by the powdery mist, along with the muscle beneath.
Dark red blood gushed out, transforming into the raging flames of the God of War in the air, burning the pink mist that was still trying to approach into nothingness.
Kaine sheathed his sword; the wound on his left arm was still smoking, but the bleeding had stopped.
He watched the Keeper of Secrets surging toward the Eldar Pantheon, a sinister smile creeping across his lips.
His body leaped from the edge of the Eldar Pantheon, transforming into a blood-red meteor that crashed into the very center of the group of Greater Daemon.
He had no sword techniques, no tactics, and no defense.
He just chopped.
The greatsword in his hand was not a weapon, but something akin to "judgment"—wherever the blade pointed, whether it was a butterfly's wings, a snake's body, or a ball of light, they all turned to ashes in the blood-red flames.
A Greater Daemon wrapped its six arms around his waist at the same time. He lowered his head, opened his mouth, and bit off the Greater Daemon's neck.
Another Greater Daemon attacked from behind, plunging a pink dagger into his back. He retaliated with a backhand strike, cleaving the Greater Daemon from head to toe.
He didn't care whether he got hurt or not, because he was the God of War. As long as he could stand and wield his sword, no one could surpass him.
"So as not to betray the blood of the living and the souls of the dead!"
Kaine's roar echoed in the void, a voice devoid of any holiness, containing only a primal, savage, and blood-pumping fighting spirit.
Slaanesh watched as Kaine fought his way in and out of His Greater Daemon horde, his purple eyes narrowing slightly.
He doesn't care; those Greater Daemon are dead, they're dead, He can create them again at any time.
But what He cared about was the crimson flame on Kaine's body—that was Khorne's blessing.
That old bastard, he says he won't get involved, but how much power has he secretly given Kaine?
"Khorne..."
Slaanesh's voice held a hint of gritted teeth, "You just wait."
But He doesn't have time to Khorne right now, because Asuryan has already made his move.
In the ruins of Nurgle's Garden, Isha knelt on the scorched earth, her hands pressed into the ashes.
Her eyes were closed, her lips moved slightly, and she recited some ancient prayer that even she herself had almost forgotten.
It was not a prayer to any god, but a "request" to life itself—a request for this land, burned by flames, to lend her its remaining Psionic Energy.
As the golden flames burned away the Blessing of the Nurgle, they also burned the humus, which had been tainted by Chaos energy for 65 million years, into the most basic Psionic Energy particles.
Those particles no longer carried the will of Nurgle, no longer bore the pollution of Chaos; they were simply the purest, attribute-less Psionic Energy.
Like soil that has been turned over, like manure that has been fermented, they are no longer decaying, but rather raw materials that nourish new life.
After fermentation, manure becomes fertilizer, which can be spread on the soil to help crops grow taller.
After Nurgle's Garden was burned, what remained was not ruins, but the most fertile Psionic Energy soil.
Isha's lips curled up slightly.
She opened her blue eyes, and instead of the numbness and weariness that came with years of imprisonment, her eyes shone with a clear, bright light, full of vitality, like spring water melting ice.
Her body began to glow, not gold, not blue, but a pure, tender green, like a new bud breaking through the soil.
The light spread from her chest to her entire body, from her body to the earth beneath her feet, and from the earth beneath her feet to the entire burning Nurgle's Garden.
Tender green specks of light emerged on the scorched earth, like fireflies rising from the ashes.
Those points of light were lifeless, but they were pulsating, rotating, and converging.
They coalesced into a pillar of light beneath Isha's feet, which shot skyward, piercing through the burning haze, the confronting Black Sun, and the barriers of the Warp.
The entire Nurgle's Garden trembled slightly within that pillar of light.
Isha's voice echoed in the void, not loud, but clear.
"Asuryan."
Asuryan's sword tip paused for a moment.
He could sense a vast, pure life energy, untouched by any Chaos, surging forth from the burning ruins.
Those are the remains of Nurgle's Garden, the culmination of 65 million years of Psionic Energy, transformed into absorbable nutrients by the Emperor's golden flames.
And now, Isha is absorbing all these nutrients and transforming them into her own power.
Her Divinity expanded several times, no, dozens of times, in that instant.
She was no longer a half-crippled goddess of life imprisoned in the Garden of Nurgle, but rather Isha had returned to her peak state and was even more powerful than before.