As a powerful sorcerer who had served Chaos for thousands of years, he truly felt despair for the first time.
Karathes felt his mind go blank.
No, he no longer had a "brain" in any real sense. As a sorcerer who had served Chaos for thousands of years, his flesh had long since been transformed beyond recognition, his thoughts sustained by Warp energy and his twisted soul.
But at that moment, both his energy and his soul were frantically screaming the same word:
Run!
"I... I am the favored servant of the Four Gods... I..." His voice trembled.
Reason told him to activate his teleportation immediately and flee to the other side of the planet, or simply retreat into the depths of the Warp.
But his pride would not allow it.
As the ruler of this Daemon World, a powerful sorcerer who had slaughtered Imperial armies on countless battlefields, how could he face the gods if he could not even defeat a newly born... ball of flesh?
"No! I will not flee!" Karathes gritted his teeth and forcibly suppressed his fear.
He raised his staff high and began chanting.
This time, he would unleash his true trump card.
The spell required him to sacrifice half his life force, but in exchange, it could summon a divine blade forged from pure bloodlust.
That blade could sever matter, cleave souls, and even tear open rifts between reality and the Warp.
"By my blood, by my soul..." Karathes's voice rose higher and higher. "Khorne, my lord, grant your servant... the power of destruction!"
The sky began to bleed.
Not figuratively, but literally.
Scarlet liquid seeped from the void, gathered in the air, and swirled, finally condensing into an enormous red scythe ten meters long.
Countless twisted skulls were engraved on the scythe's blade.