135: The Game Was Decided

"Ready."

Neos said easily. At the moment, he wore a somewhat ridiculous straw crown, while across the table sat his predecessor's predecessor as Warmaster, Orpetre, looking utterly speechless.

"You still like chess this much."

Ou said, staring at the board Neos had arranged.

"Am I your enemy?"

Ou reached out, about to move a piece, but the Emperor abruptly raised a hand and stopped him.

"No,"

The Emperor said,

"I changed my way of thinking. There aren't merely two sides—every piece has its own objective. They merely happened to be on the same table, trapped in the same war."

"The pieces themselves are also the ones moving them. He granted them freedom."

The Emperor spread his arms, showing his predecessor's predecessor as Warmaster this chessboard, extraordinarily complex in both time and space.

"Look, these are the star pieces on our board."

The bone-forged piece was gaunt, white mist streaming from it as it stood proudly at the sharpest point of Psychic Power.

Beside it, it was less a chess piece than a pitch-black spear. The spear, so deep it reflected not a trace of light, pierced through the board's upper and lower structures, anchoring the game firmly to this moment.

Mortarion's gaze remained utterly placid. The Primarch exhaled mist and looked into the waves at the end of the Webway.

The Underking stood at his side, smiling, though the smile never reached his eyes. His killing intent was as sharp as a beast lurking through the night.

"And now, our main course—"

Bright purple clouds mixed with pink churned and gathered into a storm at the center of the board. Brilliant yellow lightning occasionally flashed through them, like veins winding across a placenta.

It was a hollow that ran through the board's middle and lower layers.

+Screeeeeeeeeech!+