At the edge of the Great Rift, the defensive line constructed by the Seventh Fleet had become a colossal furnace that devoured lives.
Compared to the initial chaos, the battlefront was gradually stabilizing in a cruel, slow manner.
The seemingly endless tidal wave of Abyssal corruption, enough to drown the stars, had finally revealed its limits before the Seventh Fleet's terrifying, era-defying firepower.
Especially the enormous Great Old Ones radiating demigodly pressure. Once the nightmare of mortal armies, they had now become the Seventh Fleet's priority targets.
Whenever such high-level Abyssal units appeared, they would be met with concentrated fleet fire and locked onto by Kesha and Mio.
Under the precise eliminations of those two powerful beings, the Abyss legion's elite forces were rapidly weakened.
Without those "nodes" supporting them, the vast tide of corruption remained fierce, but its organization and threat level had greatly diminished.
The Imperium of Man's soldiers could organize cleansing operations more effectively, while Space Marine reinforcements could also deploy to support points with greater efficiency.
The extent of the corruption was rapidly decreasing.
Yet what truly determined the direction of the battlefield was not the fleet exchanges or elite duels at the periphery, but the ultimate death match at the edge of the Great Rift, within that region where even light was twisted and devoured—the war between the Doom Slayer and Khorne, the Blood God.
That place could no longer be measured by ordinary standards.
The Doom Slayer's current form could no longer be called human.
He had become a boiling mass of crimson will, burning with endless fury.
That will condensed into the vague outline of a giant, radiating a storm of destruction that swept away all things.
At this moment, the Doom Slayer was not merely battling Khorne. He was also madly drawing