Slaanesh would never pass up this chance to nail Khorne to history's pillar of shame and mock him mercilessly.
A mischievous light glittered in Slaanesh's eyes. Their will stirred ever so slightly.
The next moment, through Slaanesh's unfathomable methods, high-definition footage of Angron clinging to the Obelisk in "impotent rage" was given crystal-clear audio and forcibly projected into every corner of the Warp, like a pristine 4K hologram.
Yes, a network-wide livestream. Mandatory viewing.
Whether they were Tzeentch's sorcerers working through formulas in the Crystal Labyrinth or Nurgle Daemons brewing thick soup in the Garden of Nurgle; whether they were Cultists plotting to overthrow an Imperial governor in realspace or lost fleets struggling desperately through warp storms.
Everyone, every Daemon, and even some psychically sensitive Imperial Astropaths saw this piece of "performance art" with perfect clarity in their minds at the same instant.
"Take a look, my dear little things~"
Slaanesh's voice, seductive and languid yet laced with lethal mockery, slithered like a venomous snake through every viewer's mind.
"Look closely. This is that so-called 'absolute strength.' This is the 'Daemon Prince' your muscle-brained Blood God takes such pride in."
Their voice drew out, deliberately tinged with affected regret. "Oh dear, that pose... how wild, how... 'pleasurable.' It seems our little puppy Angron has finally found his proper place. This is far more entertaining than watching him hack people apart, isn't it?"
With Slaanesh's network-wide broadcast, the entire Warp seemed to pause for a second.
Then a roar erupted from Khorne's Realm, more savage than before and powerful enough to all but tear the void apart. The spatial dimension containing the Brass Throne began collapsing wildly. Clearly, the Blood God was close to exploding with fury.
But Slaanesh paid it no mind. They even took a leisurely sip of the