King Nowick's body was taken away, Queen Elise was abducted, the First Prince betrayed them, the Second Prince vanished, and Blazkowicz's condition was even more dire.
The Argentum currently had no one to take charge.
Fortunately, the Throne Guards had sealed off the news, so the upheaval in the Throne Hall had not spread, and the lives of the populace remained stable.
The Argentum had suffered a great humiliation.
Once the news leaked, the fierce populace would feel deeply humiliated, and gathering some retired veterans, they would dare to attack the City of Truth.
Harlan's face was grim; he stood with his arms crossed over his long spear, leaning against the entrance of the Medical Hall, waiting and watching medical attendants go in and out.
He had been driven out of the infirmary, and it was a rare moment of peace.
Blazkowicz had been carried in thirty minutes ago, and all the healers' methods had been tried, yet they struggled to eliminate his poisoning reaction.
Even an ancient and precious relic, the "Panacea" that cured all diseases, was used, but it only temporarily stabilized the poisoning before the symptoms reappeared.
The potent poison in him seemed to possess a self-awareness, constantly evolving and adapting.
It formed a prolonged standoff with the continuous surge of vitality from his body.
The intervention of external forces would instead be attacked and expelled from their battlefield by both his immune system and the toxins.
Harlan remained silent, his face grim, as Blazkowicz's bodily functions gradually weakened under the tug-of-war between his immune system and the toxins.
Before long, his body, with its depleted functions, was bound to succumb to death.
With the Argentum leaderless, those scoundrels from the City of Truth would never miss such a golden opportunity.
King Nowick and Queen Elise, who had been taken, would definitely be used by them to create a major stir.
Harlan suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion, and his usually unwavering heart showed a rare sense of confusion.
He was an invincible warrior; facing enemies and fighting was his duty. Now, the matters he needed to consider far exceeded a warrior's responsibilities.
How should the Sentinels stationed outside be arranged? Where was the future of the Argentum headed?
Sensing that the atmosphere around him was off, Harlan suddenly looked up, and the heavy stone in his heart finally settled a little.
A man in a blue civilian robe, wearing a royal signet ring on his left hand, with fluffy brown hair slightly curled, like a vigorous lion, was approaching the Medical Hall.
Escorted by Throne Guards, the long-absent Second Prince, Flano Novick, walked with an anxious expression.
Flano was in a hurry, walking at the forefront of the procession, heavily protected by the Throne Guards.
They had already lost their King and Queen, the First Prince had defected, and the Third Prince was in critical condition; they dared not let the only remaining royal member suffer another accident.
His emerald eyes, inherited from Elise, reflected Harlan, who was leaning in the wind, deep in thought. Flano, disregarding monarch-subject etiquette, quickly walked towards his subject. He had just woken from a stasis field, and there was a vague command in his mind.
His father had given him a task, asking him to enter a stasis field and sleep until the moment he woke up.
He didn't know when that would be before, but now he did.
The moment his father's heart stopped beating, the stasis field automatically disengaged, waking him from the motionless sleep pod.
Then the Throne Guards explained to him everything that had happened in the outside world during his sleep.
Flano understood that his father had put him into a time-suspended sleep precisely to prevent the current situation.
"Find the fastest mount."
The Second Prince was gentle; although his expression was anxious, his voice remained as warm and smooth as jade when facing the current situation.
With a simple command, Flano nodded to the Champion Swordsman, then passed him, entering the Medical Hall with his guards.
Harlan's eyes lit up, and his previously gloomy face finally showed a hint of relief.
An instruction implies a plan, and the royal family's methods are endless; perhaps there is a way to stabilize Blazkowicz's condition.
The fastest mount?
The Champion Swordsman barely had to think; he shouldered his long spear and headed for the armory. His good brother, Senna, had some private treasures.
In his private armory, an anti-gravity motorcycle was parked, a wild beast capable of reaching five times the speed of sound in the turbulent atmosphere below a hundred meters.
Flano, wearing strict protective measures, followed the medical attendants into the medical room.
He somewhat understood why Harlan was standing at the entrance, not waiting nearby.
The entire Medical Hall was now completely sealed off to prevent the leakage of the virus.
The healers had strictly assessed the danger of the virus on Blazkowicz and were rigorously preventing any leakage.
Only Blazkowicz's powerful body could endure it; for an ordinary Sentinels, infection would have meant instant death.
The terrifying life-devouring virus would consume all vitality from the infected, leaving behind a pile of worthless inorganic ash.
This life-devouring virus was specifically designed to deal with transcendent life, making the infected experience the horror of their vitality being devoured bit by bit in despair, suffering until the moment of death.
Flano looked at his brother on the joined beds, gasping violently, resisting the life-devouring virus within him.
His majestic body frequently convulsed, veins beneath his skin twisted like snakes, and his skin changed color between bluish-purple and healthy.
Blazkowicz continuously vomited a tar-like black substance, and his skin on his limbs kept cracking, discharging ugly, putrid, tumor-like lumps.
In his neural network, purple phosphorescence constantly lit up, and symbols of curses continuously appeared on the surface of his skin.
Despite this, there was no pain in his blood-red eyes, only intense hatred and defiance.
"My brother~"
Seeing his brother suffering, Flano's voice choked. His protected hand gripped Blazkowicz's large hand, wanting to give him strength.
"Sir, please be careful."
The healer carefully reminded him: "The virus in Lord Blazkowicz's flesh and blood only infects through wounds; you are safe with your protective gear."
"However, the toxins in his nervous system will paralyze the infected person's nervous system, and it is unknown if they are transmissible."
"And the curse."
The royal Psyker Master had long been summoned, attempting to lift the curse on Blazkowicz, but he shook his head helplessly: "We are powerless."
"This powerful curse, weakening Lord Blazkowicz's will and body, has gone beyond the scope of psychic abilities, almost becoming a concept and a rule."
Blazkowicz, lying on the bed, seemed to hear them. His arm trembled, and he shook off Flano's hand.
Flano clenched his fist. He knew his brother could perceive his surroundings, his consciousness was very clear, clearly enduring pain and torment beyond comprehension.
He did not yield to the pain in the slightest, not even a soft groan.
"Healer." Flano's face was like iron, his voice trembling: "Prepare Blazkowicz for long-distance transport."
"But Sir Blazkowicz's body is currently collapsing; any external factor could worsen his condition."
The healer, out of professional duty, quickly explained to the Prince.
"Then can you save him?" Flano didn't say much more, his emerald eyes fixed on him, asking the simple, crucial question.
The healer no longer hesitated, immediately calling medical attendants to custom-make a coffin for Blazkowicz using shapeshifting gel.
When everyone worked together to push Blazkowicz out of the Medical Hall, Harlan retrieved the mount and waited outside.
"Champion Swordsman."
While the others were strapping Blazkowicz's coffin onto the vehicle, Flano called Harlan aside to give him instructions.
Flano gestured for the Psyker Master to set up a barrier, then, with a solemn expression, took a spherical orb from his robe and presented it to Harlan.
A light gray sphere, with a jade-like texture, its surface intricately carved with complex lines.
It was seamless, possessing a natural beauty, without any signs of artificial processing.
Harlan frowned when he saw the orb; he felt as if he had seen it somewhere before but couldn't quite recall.
"Take it."
Flano placed the orb into Harlan's hand: "Follow its guidance; perhaps it can lead you to a way to save Blazkowicz."
"What is this?"
Harlan weighed it; the jade-like sphere seemed to have no mass, appearing heavy but surprisingly light.
"I don't know either."
Flano shook his head; he truly didn't know the specific function of the orb.
His father had only instructed that if Blazkowicz met with an accident, following the orb's guidance might provide a solution.
"Perhaps?"
Harlan murmured to himself, a sense of resignation rising in his heart; even members of the royal family weren't one hundred percent certain.
"Hurry and depart." Flano had the Psyker Master remove the barrier, urging Harlan to leave quickly: "Blazkowicz's life is in your hands."
With such trust placed on his shoulders, Harlan nodded solemnly, quickly mounted the motorcycle, and set off.
"Summon the ministers!"
Watching Harlan leave, Flano's worried expression changed, becoming fiercely resolute: "We need to discuss opening the ancient armory. When my brother returns, we will have our revenge!"
Harlan sped across the wasteland on an anti-gravity motorcycle, with Blazkowicz's coffin strapped to it, leaving the heavily guarded main domain.
"Follow its guidance?"
He looked puzzled, turning the jade orb in his hand, seemingly finding nothing unusual.
Gripping the orb, he slowly applied pressure as Flano had instructed.
"Hiss~"
When the pressure reached a critical point, the orb finally reacted.
The complex patterns on its surface transformed into golden lines, floating in the air and circling the sphere.
After the golden lines appeared, the orb seemed to gain a mind of its own, hovering in the air and maintaining the same speed as the anti-gravity motorcycle.
Its jade surface cracked open, and a fine, mercury-like gray liquid flowed out, forming a gray map marked with a route.
Harlan's eyes lit up, and he quickly pinpointed his location on the map, twisting the throttle and speeding away.
What he didn't know was that the moment the orb activated, the gods in the Warp, who were observing the universe, lost sight of Blazkowicz and him.
The two seemed to be enveloped, completely vanishing from the real universe, leaving no trace.
"Is it really alright?"
The young Slaanesh used his tongue as a pen, completing the daemon true names of Sharrash and the other Keepers of Secrets.
They had been banished back to the Warp by Blazkowicz, part of their daemon essence stolen, and even part of their true names erased.
He looked at Khorne—his eternal nemesis.
The Blood God had been the first to encounter Blazkowicz, and surely knew he possessed the authority of a true god, capable of erasing daemon true names.
But he said nothing, never mentioning this terrifying ability; Blazkowicz had not yet fully matured.
If he awakened his ability, he could completely erase daemon true names, causing daemons to vanish permanently from the timeline.
To some extent, he could even threaten the gods themselves.
How many daemons died was irrelevant to the Chaos Gods, and the Prince of Pleasure didn't care either; threatening the gods was also irrelevant.
Gods never cared.
The question was now: how had Blazkowicz vanished from their sight, escaping the gods' gaze?
"That ancient artifact has obscured our vision."
Tzeentch was in high spirits; Nowick's Mortal wisdom had brought him the surprise of change.
Now Blazkowicz had vanished from sight again, what kind of surprise would he bring?
He truly looked forward to his reappearance!
Nurgle chuckled good-naturedly beside him, in a very pleasant mood, also unconcerned about the vanished Blazkowicz.
He felt his children constantly evolving within Blazkowicz's body, humans and viruses endlessly struggling and evolving to survive,
interpreting the greatness of life.
It was truly wonderful!
Khorne cared even less. His gaze lingered in the Warp, observing the Bloodthirster banished by Blazkowicz, and Skarbrand, that traitor.
The Blood God was training his army, preparing for the next exhilarating battle.
Watching his divine brethren engrossed in their respective authorities, the Prince of Pleasure toyed with his fingernails, lazily reminding them: "The Primarch you value has already stood against the gods."
"Just like that—"
The Prince of Pleasure's tone was languid, he pondered for a moment, but still didn't speak his name, instead exhaling a cloud of purple mist that condensed into the likeness of the Emperor.
"Boring."
Tzeentch instantly lost interest, his vacant gaze, filled with the disdain he reserved for Chaos Spawn, swept over the Prince of Pleasure's languid form, then he departed.
He had no interest in explaining to the youngest god.
Humans have humanity, gods have divinity. The two cannot be equated.
Humans clash due to opposition, gods clash due to differing authorities.
But one must understand, gods are immortal, eternal, and never fall.
All the thoughts of intelligent beings cannot be used to measure the actions of gods. The struggles and schemes displayed by gods are merely what the gods wish to display.
The "opposition" between gods is merely an entertainment segment in the great game, a necessary existence that guides destiny to its ultimate conclusion.
The struggles of gods in the Warp are a boring pastime, and their meddling in the Mortal world is merely a fleeting whim to watch ants tear each other apart.
What if Blazkowicz becomes a god? What if that god in human skin ascends?
It just means two more players at the game table, making the great game more interesting, and two more chess players in the Warp.
Moreover, they have not yet become gods, they are manipulated by the gods like ants.
Only by becoming a god or near-god do they have the qualification to "oppose" them; the current Blazkowicz is far from enough.
Khorne and Nurgle likewise cast contemptuous glances at the Prince of Pleasure, their consciousness returning to their own divine domains.
As the youngest god, he still didn't quite understand the meaning of the great game.
Everything is meaningless, everything has meaning.
In this great game, the more players involved, the better, so the gods can enjoy themselves more.
What is Blazkowicz erasing a few daemons? The daemons in the Warp are endless!
What if he escapes the gods' sight? He will appear one day.
Temporarily deviating from the gods' plans is irrelevant; before he is on par with a god, countless plans await him.
Of course, the gods love Blazkowicz.
Khorne deeply loves the warrior he values, Tzeentch anticipates the surprises brought by his unpredictable fate, Nurgle likes his struggling vitality, and the Prince of Pleasure enjoys everything.
It is precisely because of love that they meticulously plot to obtain him.
As for "opposition"? The gods are even happier, it brings more fun, and they love him even more!
Harlan, of course, didn't know that four gods in the Warp were watching him.
Following the map's guidance, he drove the anti-gravity motorcycle all the way to his final destination—the Crystal Mountains.
The most mysterious existence on Argent Nur, the Crystal Mountains had existed for tens of millions of years, long before humans colonized the planet.
Multiple main mountain ranges stretched majestically across Argent Nur, seemingly without end.
The early human settlers discovered its uses but knew little about how it was formed.
It was like a gift from the universe, allowing any intelligent life that discovered it to use it and unleash its potential.
The null crystal seemed inexhaustible, and indeed it was.
Its special structure absorbed various cosmic rays, then, through a mysterious conversion, increased its physical mass.
The map pointed deep into the mountains, and Harlan had to slow down as he navigated the ravines between the Crystal Mountains.
Excessive compression of crystals in the mountains could cause a unique "disappearance" phenomenon.
Reality was like a mirror, already cut by the crystal's radiance, but its two-dimensional thickness made it difficult to detect.
Those who crashed into it faced two outcomes: either they were severed by a dimensional rift, still allowing for the reassembly of a fragmented body, or they were completely swallowed by the rift, exiled to an unknown alternate dimension.
Sweat dripped constantly from Harlan's forehead, the power armor's servo system automatically adjusted humidity, preventing the inside of the armor from becoming sticky.
If it weren't for the gray liquid of the orb, which had a detection function, he would have been sliced into pieces by the constantly refracting crystal light.
He was thankful for his good luck, not encountering a crystal symbiote, Argent Nur's top predator.
"Hoo~"
Just as he was thinking luckily, a long, drawn-out cry, like the clear ringing of colliding crystals, suddenly came.
"Damn it!"
Harlan cursed under his breath; he didn't even need to look back to know what had targeted him.
The Crystal Hunter Hawk, the apex predator inhabiting the Crystal Mountains.
It was a magnificent and unique life form, entirely composed of the purest null crystal, its body size completely unknown.
The Hunter Hawk was not a three-dimensional creature; its majestic body shifted between multiple dimensions, and when its body unfolded in three dimensions, its size was entirely dependent on its will.
It could be hundreds of meters large, eclipsing the sky, or as small as a human fingernail.
It was immune to damage from three or four dimensions and could even perform short-distance dimensional jumps for rapid predation.
Humans in the Golden Age used forbidden weapons against this dangerous creature from Argent Nur, but it ultimately survived on Argent Nur.
Humans admitted their failure, and because the Hunter Hawk would not leave its territory, the two coexisted.
Harlan didn't look back; the orb's gray mercury constantly reminded him of the Hunter Hawk's position, it was swooping towards him.
Its hunt was silent and unstoppable; the Hunter Hawk traveled in other unknown dimensions, and what was seen in the three-dimensional world was merely a projection.
The weapon in his hand was useless; the only thing he could do now was abandon the vehicle!
In a relatively open gap, Harlan lowered his altitude, flipped the motorcycle, decisively threw Blazkowicz from the air, and abandoned the vehicle to escape.
After he left the vehicle, a pair of blue crystal talons pierced through the anti-gravity motorcycle, silently like overlapping illusions.
The motorcycle and the Hunter Hawk vanished together from the three-dimensional universe. Harlan watched the motorcycle disappear, feeling sorry for Senna before he landed.
After landing, he rolled a few times on the ground, dragging Blazkowicz's gelatinous coffin; the destination was not far.
The servo motors whined; Harlan had never felt Blazkowicz's tall body to be such a burden as he did now.
He could only drag him, not carry Blazkowicz, which greatly slowed him down.
"Hoo~"
The magnificent Hunter Hawk reappeared, its crystal feathers reflecting colorful light, staring intently at Harlan slowly dragging himself across the ground.
No! To be precise, it was staring at Blazkowicz inside the transparent coffin!
Harlan's face turned pale; he could only pull out his spear and ignite its energy blade. He truly felt a sense of despair now.
A despair from within, an unachievable powerlessness.
"Relax, young man! It's just curious about the person in the coffin."
A strange voice rang out, seemingly magical, dispelling his fear and calming Harlan's inner unease.
He turned his head and saw a talking giant toad standing in front of a crystal cave?
The bipedal toad brought a strong impact to Harlan—though it lacked the appearance of an intelligent creature, it exuded an indescribable profundity and mystery.
It had a corpulent belly and wore a black robe embroidered with intricate golden patterns, with mysterious and luxurious jewels hanging around its neck.
Its form was indeed that of a standing toad, yet its body was covered in fine scales.
"Come back, they mean no harm."
The toad extended its webbed hand, signaling the Crystal Hunter Hawk to descend from the air, landing steadily on its shoulder.
The Crystal Hunter Hawk obeyed its command, standing on its shoulder, shaking its head and looking at Blazkowicz with its crystalline eyes.
Harlan was deeply shocked; the Crystal Hunter Hawk was the toad's pet. He gripped his weapon and cautiously asked, "Who are you?"
"I can save him." The toad did not answer. Its lazily drooping eyelids swept over Harlan, and the human language it spoke from its wide mouth was calm and peaceful.
With a wave of its hand, the jade orb returned to its grasp, as if to its true owner.
"Follow me."
As it turned and moved forward, the crystals seemed to come alive, automatically parting to create a phosphorescent blue passage.
Harlan dragged Blazkowicz, carefully following it into the passage, vigilantly observing every refraction in the cave.
"You don't need to be too careful, I have no intention of harming you, and it's very safe here."
The toad's peaceful voice came from ahead, soothing Harlan's caution.
The voice truly had a magical quality, causing Harlan to let go of the Sentinels's eternal vigilance, and gradually follow it deeper into the cave.
At the end of the cave was a spacious room with a bed and various cabinets, filled with strange creations.
Most striking was a large yellow clay crucible bubbling under the crystal wall, seemingly brewing something.
The artistic styles of the various items differed, they were masterpieces of art, seemingly from different civilizations.
The Crystal Hunter Hawk flew to its perch, preening its crystal feathers.
"Who are you?"
Harlan asked again. He had too many unanswered questions about the toad before him; there was an incomprehensible mystery about it.
There was a kind of gentle benevolence that made him involuntarily drop his guard.
"The last of the Ancient Saints in the universe." The toad took a pipe from the room's wall, took a long, satisfying puff, and said with a touch of melancholy, "Life Forger Primal."
"Ancient Saint?" Harlan shook his head in confusion. He had never heard of them, nor had he seen any record of this race in historical texts.
At the same time, Harlan's heart trembled violently. Upon hearing the words "Ancient Saint," a strange sense of respect welled up within him. "Can you save him?" Harlan pointed to the colloidal coffin on the ground, where the giant lay, using an honorific in his speech.
Regardless of the race, since Flano had asked them to come, the ultimate goal was to treat Blazkowicz.
Prima did not explain much. The current universe was no longer what it was sixty million years ago, nor even the time when the Eldar dominated.
The Ancient Saints were already little known.
"Of course."
The Ancient Saint exhaled a puff of smoke towards Blazkowicz on the ground. In an instant, the gelatinous coffin melted, revealing his body, from which black blood flowed.
"The gods of the Warp, they are very fond of your master and wish to take him as their servant, forcing him to submit."
Prima said, stepping on the colorful feathered carpet, taking many things Harlan had never seen from the wall, and tossing them into the crucible.
Though he hadn't seen anything in this cave before.
"I—will—never—submit!"
Blazkowicz's will was still clear. Hearing talk of gods, he willed his body to move, "I will slaughter them!"
That bone-deep hatred surged from his weakened body, with a will to fight to the death.
"Excellent! Very spirited!"
Prima exclaimed, opening its wide mouth and spitting a large amount of viscous saliva into the crucible, stirring it continuously with a spoon. "Your spirit is unlike anything I've ever seen, completely unaffected by the Warp."
"Even those four foul entities struggle to corrupt your soul, only able to attack your body."
"They crave your submission, they crave your defiance, they crave your choices, they crave to consume you whole."
Harlan was completely bewildered and dared not speak, fearing he might interrupt whatever Prima was brewing.
He could tell that these seemingly ordinary actions contained an indescribable truth.
It was a genuine cosmic mystery, not the deceptive theatrics of psychic powers.
Prima brewed, occasionally stopping to dance around the crucible, chanting ancient and profound syllables.
Harlan was somewhat confused as to why, in the presence of a toad, he always felt an inexplicable reverence, even wanting to dance along with it.
After a while, the crucible stopped boiling. The various substances within disappeared, concentrating into a golden, shimmering liquid medicine.
Just a whiff made Harlan feel all his pores open, experiencing an incomparable comfort from the inside out.
Prima then retrieved a bowl, which was the skull of some creature, crystal clear and exuding a noble aura.
"Tastes good." Dipping a finger into the liquid and tasting a bit, the toad smiled eerily, its two eyes on top of its head narrowing, its wide mouth stretching to the back of its head. "Sixty million years, and my craftsmanship hasn't declined a bit."
When Prima spoke, Blazkowicz, who was conscious on the ground, and Harlan, who dared not speak nearby, were both stunned.
This toad, calling itself an "Ancient Saint," seemed to have lived for over sixty million years?
They didn't doubt the truthfulness; indeed, from the decorations in the room, it was evident that Prima had lived for a very long time.
"Primordial Soup."
The Ancient Saint held the glittering golden liquid, squatted beside Blazkowicz, and looked at the giant on the ground with its two eyes. "A true cosmic miracle, mimicking the primordial essence that birthed the first life. It is a grand concept."
"It's quite fitting for saving you too."
After speaking, its webbed, suction-cupped hand pried open Blazkowicz's mouth and fed him the Primordial Soup.
As the soup went down his throat, Blazkowicz instantly felt a surge of vibrant life force, rushing from his stomach directly to his limbs and bones.
The constantly evolving viruses were assimilated by the medicine, returning to their original vitality, and in turn, became a catalyst for the Primordial Soup's healing.
Blazkowicz's breathing gradually normalized, his heartbeat regained its strength, and his body was rapidly healing.
"Still some left?"
There was some leftover medicine in the bowl. Prima looked at Harlan, "Drink it, it will be good for you."
Harlan immediately stepped forward, picked up the bowl of medicine, and swallowed it in one gulp.
He had long been salivating, his body instinctively craving to swallow the golden, glowing liquid.
After swallowing the liquid, he blacked out and collapsed to the ground. His body internally began an extraordinary transformation under the cleansing of the Primordial Soup.
"Thank you!"
Blazkowicz stood up again, knelt on one knee before Prima, and placed one hand over his chest, offering the highest warrior's salute to this unknown yet generously helpful alien.
"It's not over yet!"
Prima grinned, sticking out a long, slimy tongue, licking Blazkowicz's chest.
When it retracted its tongue, it drew out a blue curse force and vivid red fury from his body.
Coiling its tongue, it swallowed them in one gulp. Prima's body shivered, sparks burst from the corners of its mouth, and it closed its eyes in enjoyment. "The taste of change, a fiery flavor, truly good."
It looked at Blazkowicz with great interest, its eyes constantly scanning him up and down, especially the mysterious runes on his chest.
"Sit, King Nowick's son, you must have many questions."
Prima climbed onto the low bed, covered itself with a luxurious blanket, picked up its pipe, and puffed out smoke, closing its eyes in contentment.
"You know my father? And thank you for saving me, but why did you save me?"
Blazkowicz felt strange. This ancient saint actually knew his father. While thanking him for saving his life, he expressed his doubts.
The ancient saint didn't seem to have acted on a whim; rather, it seemed to have been waiting for a long time.
"I know every 'King Nowick.' Before ascending the throne, they all come to see me." Prima slowly extended two fingers through the smoke. "There are two reasons I saved you."
"Nowick came to see me six months ago and made a pact that if you were ambushed, I must save you." It pointed to the jade orb. "He also took that, a trinket that can obscure the gods' vision."
Prima stared intently at Blazkowicz, with a different kind of light in its eyes. "I saved you of my own volition because you possess the authority to challenge the gods!"
"Authority?"
Blazkowicz's thick brows furrowed slightly. He sensitively caught the key word; the Ancient Saint said "authority," not "power."
"Yes, authority!"
Prima tapped its pipe against the bedside, knocking off excess ash. "Authority inherent in all living beings."
"And you." The pipe pointed at Blazkowicz, the Ancient Saint's eyes half-closed, its peaceful voice filled with certainty, "You possess the authority to challenge the gods!"
"How do I defeat them?"
Thinking of what the gods had done, Blazkowicz's fists clenched involuntarily, and boundless rage surged within him. He yearned for revenge!
Prima exhaled a puff of smoke that transformed into infinite colors in the air. "The Warp is the source of everything." Life Forger Prima's round eyes on either side of its head narrowed as it recalled those deep memories, telling Blazkowicz about the true nature of the Warp, its past and present.
The existence of gods and the essence of demons, and what they truly crave.
The history obscured by the Warp's tides, the birth of the four Chaos Gods, and the original form of the Sea of Souls.
Prima recounted the glorious past of the Ancient Saints and how they gradually declined.