Aha, standing beside Nurgle, was still hopping madly in place, ranting about "biological weapons" and "personal hygiene." His exaggerated look and gestures of disgust hurt this Grandfather's... well, self-esteem more than any direct attack could have.
The temperature at the heart of the Ever-Changing Daemonic Realm seemed to plunge abruptly to absolute zero.
It was not physical coldness, but the ultimate "stillness" before the wills of four supreme deities converged, boiled over, and nearly burst apart.
Khorne's phantom was no longer merely roaring in rage. It seemed as though billions of stars were being born and dying within it, while pure bloodlust nearly burst through the restraints of the projection.
Tzeentch's countless eyes stopped flickering, freezing into a bottomless field of cold violet crystals calculating innumerable methods of destruction.
Slaanesh's graceful silhouette ceased to ripple, instead radiating a chill that could freeze souls into perfect statues of despair.
Even Nurgle's eternal gurgling vanished. The green plague mist grew heavy as lead, brewing enough... gloom and displeasure to make countless worlds wither into silence.
Aha seemed to have finally "wiped clean" the nonexistent filth on his body. He straightened up and looked around at the four nearly tangible projections of terrifying wills, as well as the demons below, silent as cicadas in winter and unable even to think properly.
He clapped his hands, the crisp sound breaking the suffocating silence.
"All right, all right, it looks like the audience's emotions have been properly warmed up!" Aha's voice became bright and exuberant once more. He somehow produced a rhinestone-studded microphone and raised it to his mouth. "Since all our lead actors are so invested, then next—lights! Sound! Stage! Get ready!"
He snapped his fingers.
Snap!
The sound was not loud, yet it was like an invisible command that instantly rewrote all the