Vashtorr, who had vanished from sight, returned to the surface of Longlin Star and arrived at the foot of a Profane Tower.
These mysterious, fearsome black towers resembled an immense mechanical labyrinth, built entirely from countless gears. The smallest gears were exquisitely crafted, each about the size of a mortal's skull, while the largest exceeded the limits of imagination, like the fangs of gigantic beasts from an ancient age.
This magnificent yet uncanny sight was the true physical manifestation of Vashtorr's Chaotic nature.
The Chaos Smith walked up the spiral staircase as though taking a leisurely stroll.
At times, the staircase shimmered with flowing, rippling mercury light; at others, it became charred corpses bolted tightly together with copper fasteners. Sometimes, it even transformed into false theorems written in oil and blood. Every step was unique, as though bearing the deepest secrets of the universe—and led straight to the heart of those gears.
Gear-shaped planes collided violently with one another, rolling wildly between towers filled with highly toxic exhaust amid deafening, piercing roars.
When Vashtorr climbed to the tower's tip, he had a clear view of the current state of the planet closest to Longlin Star.
That wretched planet was on the verge of falling apart. Longlin Star's extraordinarily powerful supernatural gravity acted like an invisible giant hand, mercilessly tearing at and destroying it.
The Chaos Fleet was attacking both the Necron and Adeptus Mechanicus fleets in space.
"Thanks to steam, steel, and suffering for the gears they have brought me."
At that moment, Vashtorr felt rather moved. His two favorite races were here—humans and Necrons.
They were fragile, ignorant, and easily deceived, yet brimming with creativity.
As Longlin Star began tearing the planet apart, Vashtorr swung the hammer in his hand and began striking the black tower in a steady