"It's... a little... rough on the throat..."
In the real world.
The pitch-black temple suddenly fell deathly silent.
Then.
A crack appeared across the surface of that enormous shadow.
According to the script, crimson magma should have poured from it, unleashing a terrifying bloody light.
But this time.
What shone through the crack was-
Dazzling, pure, sacred golden light.
BOOM!!
A terrifying force blasted the obsidian doors straight out from within.
The stone doors, several meters thick, spun across half the plaza like sheets of foam board and slammed into a charging squad of Slaaneshi Daemons, crushing more than a dozen Daemonettes into pulp on the spot.
The Aeldari warriors desperately holding their ground in the plaza-Howling Banshees, Dark Reapers, and even the dead warriors piloting Wraithknights-all instinctively stopped moving and looked toward the temple in terror and awe.
"Khaine... has awakened?"
The Prophet responsible for the sacrifice fell to her knees, trembling. She could feel that power.
It was the War God's power, beyond a doubt.
But... why did something feel wrong?
As everyone watched, heavy footsteps emerged from the smoke and dust.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
With every step, the wraithbone ground throughout Biel-Tan shook.
When that figure finally emerged from the dust and stood beneath Biel-Tan's shattered heavens, the entire battlefield briefly froze.
He was a giant a full ten meters tall.
His body was formed of indestructible black living metal, but the veins and runes that should have flowed with crimson magma now surged with liquid gold.
Unlike Khaine's original red light, that golden radiance carried no suffocating bloodlust or oppressive weight. Instead, it held a... strange warmth.
It was the warmth of the rising sun at dawn, driving away the darkness and cold.
The End of Lament in his hand, that legendary demonic sword, no longer