Deep within the Warp, the meaning of time dissolved, and the chains of logic broke.
Yet at that moment, even this chaotic, unreal domain fell into an unprecedented, frozen deathly silence.
The Brass Throne of Khorne, Blood God, no longer trembled. The ocean of flesh surrounding it ceased to churn, and billions of souls ecstatic with slaughter fell silent in the same instant. His enormous eyes, formed of pure rage, stared fixedly at Slaanesh's body. For the first time, the flames within them gave way to a coldness called horror.
In the rotting garden of Nurgle, the Lord of Pestilence, every singing Nurgling shut its mouth, and the "flowers" symbolizing the cycle of life and decay stopped swaying. For the first time, the Plague Father's fat, bloated face, forever wearing a gentle smile, displayed a stupor bordering on melancholy. He gently stroked the great rusted cauldron in his arms. What churned within it was no longer the ultimate plague, but a muddle of bewilderment.
And Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, that vast being composed of countless shifting crystals and streams of light, found his innumerable eyes, which perceived myriad futures, contracting and dilating wildly at the sight of a "variable" that defied all understanding and calculation. Countless "what if" scenarios sprang into existence within his consciousness, only to be utterly shattered a second later by the cruel reality before him.
Slaanesh, their newly born "fourth brother," the embodiment of ultimate desire and endless pleasure, the new god whose first cry should have torn reality apart and opened a new chapter in the Great Game...
Had been "formatted" by a being who had appeared from nowhere, through a method utterly beyond their comprehension.
With fists imbued with a strange golden energy, he had directly smashed Slaanesh's self-awareness, turning a living Dark