I Want to Compete for Formless Distortion

Lin En was furious.

He understood the reasoning, of course, but he just couldn't swallow it.

Dante stood beside him, gripping the Bīgong Spear. An honest man, he had no idea what to say, so he simply stood there ramrod straight.

The Necrons had always been humanity's greatest threat. They couldn't be caught if pursued, and they couldn't be beaten in a fight. Humanity could at least resist Chaos to the death, but when it came to the Necrons...

Better not to dwell on it.

The system hurried to soothe him and change the subject: [Lie low, lie low. Don't get reckless. The Imperium still needs you as its beacon. Why not draw a card first? With the Deceiver's Phantasm included, you've passed a hundred million.]

Huh?

Lin En checked his cumulative kill count. Only then did he realize it had climbed through the tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions... and past a hundred million.

If the Deceiver's Phantasm counted as a kill... Damn. He'd been a little too quick to smash that C'tan Shard's hand.

Wasn't that a ready-made kill-farming tool? If he could blow it apart layer by layer while he slept, like taking apart a Russian nesting doll, he could rack up kills like crazy.

But then he thought better of it.

Forget it. The Deceiver wasn't that useful anyway.

Were Greenskins hard to kill? Were Tyranids? He might as well kill the real things. Every one he killed would ease the pressure on the Imperium.

Still, he really had to thank the Great Devourer for its selfless generosity. Of that hundred million, at least ninety million had been donated to him in the form of biomass.

Let us thank the Great Devourer for its self-sacrifice.

It had emptied its