Warp—the ritual ground forcibly solidified and gradually being eroded by the aura of the Abyss—felt as though time itself had sunk into a viscous mire.
After discovering that the pitch-black rift could not be closed by force of will and had instead begun to "breathe" faintly like a living thing, even subtly expanding, the projections of the four Chaos Gods fell into unprecedented agitation and unease.
"Enough!" Khorne's brass phantom was the first to erupt in an impatient roar. Within that pure will for war, there was, astonishingly, a trace of... retreat?
"There is no glory in this! No bloody battle, no clash of skulls! Only cold emptiness and disgusting whispers! I am leaving this damned place!"
For the Blood God, who revered pure violence and conquest, this oppressive sensation born of absolute nothingness was more hateful and repulsive than any powerful enemy.
Tzeentch's countless eyes flickered madly, trying to glimpse even a shred of information from fate and the future, only to find chaotic emptiness.
His will turned cold and urgent as he sternly warned the other two companions, who seemed drawn to the Abyss. "Control your idiotic curiosity and twisted desires! Until we fully understand the nature and dangers of this gate, we must not conduct any further sacrifices of any kind, much less attempt to communicate with whatever lies beyond it on your own! We must..."
But before Tzeentch could finish—
Deep within the black rift, that indifferent "gaze" seemed to ripple faintly.
Then, a whisper that could not be described in any known language, yet could instantly shatter the sanity and freeze the souls of all who perceived it, burst from the rift like a supernova eruption!
The whisper was not an attack. It was more like... a muttered monologue while toying with ants.
At the