Mortals merely witnessing its existence would, at best, go insane, and at worst, their heads would explode.
Only warriors with unyielding wills could remain calm when facing it.
And the warriors led by Blazkowicz, their wills were incredibly firm, daring to confront true gods!
The assault team's steps didn't falter; instead, they sped up. Blazkowicz was at the very front of the team, charging forward without any hesitation.
Boots landed, their steps devoid of hesitation or doubt, and a clanging sound echoed in the passage, like the beating of war drums.
The warriors' target was clear—it was that filthy thing, crawling in the pitch-black passage, emitting a kaleidoscopic glow!
The Father also discovered the Son of the Emperor and the human warriors behind him—it was these people who had destroyed his home.
No more words were needed at this moment.
Both sides, meeting their enemies, were filled with rage; killing the other was far more effective than words.
The Great Benevolent Father launched the first attack, millions of eyes on his body opening, shooting out streams of psychic lasers and lightning, engulfing the humans. He unleashed his full power from the start, holding nothing back.
The passage instantly became as bright as day, lasers rained down like a dense storm, lightning rumbled, and flames crackled.
The power of a great psyker was evident; the moment killing intent appeared, psychic attacks poured forth.
The Father transformed into a mortal god, bringing down ultimate judgment upon the rebellious with fire and thunder!
This terrifying display of power was merely the beginning. The Father's face was grim, and annihilating light shot from his eyes. Time began to congeal, and the law of gravity was warped by psychic energy.
Alpha+ level psykers had transcended psychic categories; various spells came naturally to them, no longer constrained by type.
Facing such power, Blazkowicz's expression remained indifferent, his handsome face showing no fluctuation, and his charging steps did not stop.
His nervous system reacted in the picoseconds before the laser beams traveled half a meter, and in the next picosecond, he made his decision.
Killing intent flashed in his eyes, and his movements were extremely fast, transcending time. The Star God Round Shield was raised to his chest.
He had to act quickly and eliminate the dog blocking his path!
After making his move, Blazkowicz charged into the ocean of spells as if he hadn't dodged at all.
Before the Father could even laugh, the scene captured by his sensory nerves made his steady consciousness tremble, leaving him bewildered and at a loss.
That human was engulfed by lightning and flames, yet he was completely unaffected, his face solemn, his steps firm, and he was charging straight towards him!
He shattered the stagnant time field with a single step, broke through the distorted gravitational restraints, and charged forward unstoppably!
"What are you?"
The Father let out a terrified shriek, asking the same question as the Benevolent Mother, and he finally understood his partner's past loss of composure.
Only when truly facing him did one comprehend the fear that accompanied this strange human.
Blazkowicz was unstoppable!
His steps traversed time, passing through fire and ice; his mental will and physical existence were unyielding.
To protect his allies behind him, Blazkowicz activated his shield, scattering a force field. The power of the Star God reflected all energy, and all psychic lasers that touched the force field returned along their original path.
Crackling!
Lightning struck his body, flames scorched his skin, ice froze his bodily fluids, and annihilation beams pierced his side. The Father was harmed by his own spells.
He didn't have time to scream; he quickly focused his consciousness, once again mobilizing psychic energy to heal his wounds and strengthen his body, preparing for the upcoming battle.
"I am your death knell!"
Suddenly, perceiving a low growl, the Father discovered in terror that Blazkowicz, in the instant he was distracted, was already within arm's reach.
Run!
Biological instinct screamed wildly, every cell shrieking, coalescing into an escape signal, urging the Father to flee from the person in front of him, but he couldn't make any movement at all.
Blazkowicz leaped high, gripping the Crucible Sword with both hands. Killing intent firmly locked the Father in place, to receive the judgment brought down by humanity.
The will to survive spurred instinct; in the instant he knew he couldn't escape, the Father's consciousness transcended time, laying down layers of psychic shields for himself.
Slash!
The crimson blade of the Crucible Sword descended; the psychic shields were fragile, offering no resistance, like ordinary air.
The Father despaired. A bitter sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart, gnawing at his confidence and pride, as if mocking all his efforts as futile.
The Crucible Sword struck the Father's human face; the worm leader's physical body was split in half, his soul vanished into thin air, and his conceptual existence was completely erased.
When the Father died by the Crucible Sword, the Benevolent Mother in the heart chamber trembled. She sensed that something was wrong with her memories.
She should have had a partner, but at this critical juncture, she didn't know where he was?
It wasn't just the Benevolent Mother; the conceptual erasure had far-reaching effects. All impressions and memories related to the Father completely vanished from the Real Universe and the Warp.
The memories of the Adeptus Custodes and the Sentinels also ceased to exist.
They knew Blazkowicz had killed a worm leader, but who exactly had he killed? What kind of enemy was it? When they tried to recall, they drew a blank.
The Silkworm Race was the same; the Father vanished from their memories, and the race had only one leader, the Benevolent Mother.
Only Blazkowicz and the Doom Slayer knew of the Father's specific existence; they were the last to remember.
Blazkowicz stood before the Father's corpse, watching his body turn to dust and dissipate, along with the concept of his existence.
This was one of the reasons he placed the Crucible Sword in the Warp.
Killed by a Godslayer weapon, the victim's concept would be erased, removing all traces of their existence.
This annihilating characteristic was too cruel; it was just right for dealing with demons, but ordinary enemies or xeno races did not deserve such a fate.
"Keep moving," Blazkowicz retracted the blade of the Crucible Sword, called out softly, and continued to walk forward.
The warriors, who were organizing their thoughts, were startled awake and hurriedly followed the Primarch.
They sensed that there was a problem with their thoughts, but they didn't know the specific reason. Now, with the battle at hand, they had to temporarily abandon thinking.
Blazkowicz hurried his steps, leading his troops towards the heart chamber. At the end of the pitch-black passage, he saw a dark light emerging from the darkness.
The ambient temperature continued to drop, dark energy spread like sand, space twisted eerily, and the Sentinels veterans gripped their spears tightly; they knew what this meant.
The abominations of the Warp had appeared!
The Adeptus Custodes also knew what lay beyond the darkness—humanity's eternal enemy!
Just as Captain of the Adeptus Custodes Odysseus worried that without the Sisters of Silence present, dealing with demons would lack a certain restraint, he saw the dark power recede like melting snow in front of the Primarch.
It wasn't just the Primarch; around the Doom Slayer, shadowy tentacles halted, retracting into the darkness, not daring to show themselves.
Odysseus immediately made tactical arrangements: "Divide into squads, with the Doom Slayer as the core, prepare to eradicate the demons."
The Sentinels did the same; they skillfully dispersed around the Doom Slayer. The two had already undergone secret training specifically for demons.
Under Blazkowicz's leadership, the assault team was like a bright sword, piercing through the whispering darkness.
As the team entered the heart chamber, the power of the Warp surged, shadows descended in the darkness, tearing the boundary between reality and illusion.
Only an impassioned female scream was heard: "Shadow Master! Your humble servants offer your descent into the mortal realm!"
Boom!!!!
In an instant, the heart chamber space rapidly expanded, the ground stretched like dough, quickly spreading outwards.
A black sun spewed from the magic circle, eerily illuminating the space. Wherever the dark radiance reached, there were twisted shadows.
The Adeptus Custodes wanted to step forward to stop everything that was about to happen, but they were held back by the Doom Slayer beside them.
Blazkowicz stood at the very front of the team. He made no moves, allowing the shadow ritual to complete, quietly waiting for the demon to arrive in the Real Universe.
The heart chamber was deep in the mantle, far from the surface. There were no mortals here, making it a good place to ambush demons.
Darkness spread, and countless demons coalesced from the shadows. Their skin was pale blue, and they had two wings on their backs, constantly emitting hideous laughter.
Blazkowicz nodded silently. The Shadow Master was not to be underestimated; a demon army with self-characteristics was also a giant in the Warp.
Shadow Master Be'lakor. The Old Ones had spoken of him, and Blazkowicz naturally kept it in mind.
He's going to enjoy this.
The Shadow Demon Army grinned, preparing to attack the enemies of their mortal servants, when the demons' clamor suddenly ceased.
They saw a demigod standing there, wearing a helmet, holding a Godslayer blade in his hand, and a crimson mark of destruction on his chest.
"Doom Slayer..."
"Godslayer!"
"Enemy of the Gods!"
When they clearly saw the person, the restless demons called out his name, and the demon army instantly fell silent, standing still, not daring to make any movement.
The demons turned their gaze to the humble worm, their crimson eyes filled with malicious curses and hatred.
You want us to fight the Godslayer? Is this reasonable?
Just as the Shadow Demons hesitated, the summoning circle reached its climax. A pale blue giant hand reached out from within, slapping the edge of the array, and the Shadow Master finally descended!
"Ha~ Ha~ Ha~"
Be'lakor let out a thunderous laugh. He had finally arrived in the Real Universe and could freely feast on the souls of the material realm.
But he was a little puzzled; it was too quiet around him, and he didn't hear the joyous laughter of his demon imps feasting.
The Demon Prince looked up, his pupils suddenly contracting.
"Challenger!"
A demonic body forged from dark iron crawled out of the dark magic circle, holding a demonic sword, its demonic horns enormous, like a mighty crown displaying its glory.
Be'lakor!
Once the chosen champion of the Four Gods, created by the gods, he had enjoyed their supreme favor and held the most exalted position, as the first demon under the Four Gods, elevated to the first Demon Prince.
His demonic body was forged from darkness and terror, his hooves bent backward, a rusted chainmail hung from his groin, and his bat wings spread, exuding monstrous power. Skulls hung from the bones of his wing membranes—those were the mortal champions Be'lakor had killed.
But at this moment, shock instantly consumed Be'lakor's ferocious face; the Demon Prince even showed a hint of bewilderment.
"Challenger!"
The Demon Prince blurted out, his voice rough and hoarse. He recognized the runic mark on the demigod's chest—it was the eternal brand of the Godslayer, symbolizing an unyielding backbone.
Be'lakor waved his hand, and the Shadow Demon Army stealthily moved into the shadows, drawing closer to the Shadow Master.
When he said "Challenger," Be'lakor's expression, though solemn, inherently carried a hint of disdain.
It was a derogatory term from a superior to an inferior.
"Challenger?" Blazkowicz took off his helmet, his black eyes reflecting the darkness before him, his tone long and playful.
The demons tensed, instinctively gripping their weapons. The coldness on the Godslayer's face was spreading, little by little freezing their souls.
"I have never been a challenger, you filthy demons, you have never been worth challenging."
Blazkowicz shook his head, the blade of the Crucible Sword sprang out. He raised the sword with one hand, pointing it at the demon army, and the demons trembled where the blade pointed.
The fire of vengeance burned in his eyes, his voice deep and full of hatred: "I am your end!"
"Hoo!"
A synchronized battle roar rang out, shouted with the fervent souls of warriors. The Doom Slayers ignited their Dimensional Blades and stepped forward, standing behind the Gene-Father.
"Blood for blood!" the Doom Slayers roared in unison.
The Doom Slayers and the Primarch were of one mind; they felt the Gene-Father's hatred, his absolute resolve to kill the demons.
The first warriors, through their psychic link, had felt the Gene-Father's sorrow, and hidden guilt resided within them.
Because at that time, they had not stood beside the Primarch, facing the enemy with him.
Now, with the blood-feud enemy right before them, how could the Doom Slayers not be enraged!
The Shadow Demon Army was silent as cicadas in winter; their initial arrogance and wantonness upon entering reality were gone. They trembled at the warriors' battle roar, that pure fire of anger seemingly scorching their souls little by little.
The Benevolent Mother cowered on the ground, the triumphant expression on her benevolent face frozen.
When the monstrously powerful Shadow Demon Army appeared, she thought victory was assured, that the Shadow Master would sweep away all enemies.
She was horrified to discover that the Shadow Demon Army was trembling under human pressure?
"Godslayer." Be'lakor realized something was amiss and immediately changed his address, performing a demonic gesture to show his respect.
He did not want to clash with the Godslayer.
The Godslayer. The fated enemy of the gods, possessing the authority to slay gods, an unprecedented great enemy to the divine.
Compared to his apprehension, Be'lakor admired the Godslayer more. If possible, he even wanted to befriend him and jointly oppose the gods.
Be'lakor had once been showered with favor, above all demons beneath the Four Gods. The gods had bestowed unimaginable grace upon him, so that he would stand by their side.
Yet, the Demon Prince did not want to pledge allegiance to any one god; he only wanted to gain power from the Four Gods to achieve his own godhood plan.
Finally, the Four Gods saw through his wavering, the wildness hidden beneath his reverence.
Realizing they had been fooled, the gods abandoned their attempts to win over Be'lakor, withdrew their blessings, and instead cultivated their own Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes.
He was expelled from the domain of the Four Gods, ordered never to set foot there again for eternity.
To humiliate Be'lakor, the Four Gods placed a curse upon his body, forcing the Demon Prince to crown new Chaos champions.
The once exalted Everchosen became a laughingstock of the Warp, the "Neverchosen" whispered among demons.
Since then, hatred for the Four Gods arose in his heart. He carved out a Shadow Demonic Realm outside the Four Gods' domain, formed the Shadow Demon Army, and constantly plotted revenge against the Four Gods.
Be'lakor used practical actions to repay the Four Gods with humiliation.
He hunted countless Chaos champions, piling their skulls into towers to mock the gods for their blindness, for choosing weak and pathetic champions.
He had expected the Four Gods to be enraged, to lower themselves and personally punish his defiance, but the gods merely mocked Be'lakor with smiles.
The gods were aloof; they laughed, applauding the Demon Prince, thanking him for the spectacular performance he had presented.
Be'lakor's mockery froze on his face. He finally understood that after losing their favor, he was nothing more than a clown in the eyes of the gods, and his hatred for the gods intensified.
He fantasized about one day dragging the gods from their thrones, trampling their backs, and utterly humiliating them, and he constantly plotted for that day.
Years passed, and the Four Gods remained supreme. Be'lakor's plan was, after all, an impractical fantasy.
Until one day, a major error occurred in one of the gods' plans, and the consequences manifested in the Warp.
That man!
The most valued existence to the gods, his destiny deviated from the path arranged by the gods, and a furious fire stirred up monstrous waves in the Warp.
Under the gaze of the great powers of the Warp, Blazkowicz Novick made a vow, drawing forth and accepting the concept of Godslaying.
Be'lakor was ecstatic; the enemy of his enemy was his friend, and the Warp had sent him a natural ally.
It was just that the meeting with this "ally" seemed a "little" unpleasant.
"Godslayer, we should talk." Be'lakor reined in his demonic power, his words sincere, extending a hand to Blazkowicz standing in the distance: "We have a common enemy; our cooperation would be more beneficial."
"The existence of the gods is like a cancerous growth, oppressing the denizens of the Warp, wantonly destroying reality. I have long wanted to end this chaos and make the gods pay the price for their capriciousness."
He spoke with genuine emotion, and the Shadow Demon Army clattered to their knees before Blazkowicz, willing to submit to the Godslayer.
The demons secretly admired Be'lakor. If they could use the pretext of opposing the Four Gods to draw the Godslayer into the Shadow Realm, who else could claim to be the fifth great power of the Warp?
In the human camp, Odysseus instinctively turned his head, looking at the Primarch's back, desperately trying to hide the doubt in his eyes.
Fear gnawed at him, fearing that the Primarch, for the sake of revenge, would make the irrational decision to cooperate with a demon.
"Heh heh Hahahahaha!" Blazkowicz sneered, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling demons, his face sinking as he sternly commanded in a low voice: "Kill them!"
For any demon, he would kill them without hesitation; there was no possibility of communication.
Inhumane, filthy creatures, hiding behind the veil of reality, cowardly and despicable, bullying the weak.
Compared to demons, xenos seemed harmless.
What right did these inherently lowly evil creatures have to discuss cooperation with him?
He held the Crucible Sword, his eyes locked on Be'lakor, and led the Doom Slayers to charge towards the Shadow Demon Army, vowing to slay all the demons.
"In the name of the Emperor, let the demons be slain!"
The Adeptus Custodes never stood behind anyone. Odysseus raised his battle standard, stepped forward to stand beside the Primarch, and shouted the Emperor's name.
Hearing the Primarch decisively reject the demon, the Captain of the Adeptus Custodes let out a long sigh of relief. Just moments ago, he had been preparing to flee.
"Daemons, get back to the Warp!" the Sentinels roared, igniting their Dimensional Blades, fearlessly charging into the demon army.
Daemons owed Argent Nur a sea of blood debts, which could not be repaid even if they died a thousand, ten thousand times. Now, they would collect some interest.
The turn of events happened too quickly, exceeding Be'lakor's expectations. He believed that even if negotiations failed, a "courteous" "greeting" should precede combat.
"Form up, resist the human attack."
Be'lakor gripped his demonic weapon, roaring as he urged his subordinates to form ranks. He was slightly dazed; never before had demons needed to form ranks to resist an attack, as it was always demons who attacked humans.
The Shadow Demons vanished into the shadows, using shadow-walking, and formed ranks at the Demon Prince's urging.
In the spatially extended chamber, humans roared, demons shrieked, and both sides brandished their weapons, as the two battle lines crashed together!
"Filth!" The Doom Slayers, filled with anger, wielded their Dimensional Lances. A single sweep could clear the path ahead.
The Doom Slayers stood three meters tall, holding three-meter spear shafts, and their Dimensional Blades were also three meters long. Wielded in anger, they were irresistible to demons.
The demons were terrified, raising their weapons to block, but their weapons were instantly severed, and their demonic bodies cut in half.
With every swing of their weapons, several demons were cut in half, turning into ashes and completely disappearing from the Real Universe and the Warp.
The evil essence of the demons transformed into pure power, entering the bodies of the Doom Slayers, constantly enhancing their strength.
In just a moment of close combat, the Doom Slayers delivered dozens of slashes within a second, each killing a thousand demons.
They grew stronger with every kill, their power increasing constantly, making the slaughter of demons even more effortless.
The Doom Slayers knew this was a legacy from the Gene-Father, the unique talent of plundering demonic power.
They were destined to be the enemies of demons!
"We fight side by side!" The Custodian Guard charged forward, wielding his Guardian Spear and impaling a demon.
The Custodian Guard's weapons were personally bestowed by the Emperor, imbued with the Emperor's blessing, and were demon-slaying artifacts born from light.
They fought alongside the Doom Slayer, continuously striking down demons that leaped from the shadows.
The demons could have hidden in the shadows, stealthily approaching the Custodian Guard, and then launching a sudden attack, catching the Custodian Guard off guard.
Next to the Doom Slayer, the Warp's power was suppressed, and the Shadow Demons found it difficult to maintain their invisibility, forcing them to emerge from the protection of darkness and attack head-on.
At this moment, the Custodian Guard fought with full strength; beside them were powerful warriors, not Silent Sisters who needed to be protected.
The Custodian Guard had never imagined that in the Imperium of Man, there could be warriors whose combat prowess rivaled their own.
The Custodian Guard knew the Doom Slayer was formidable, but they hadn't expected his combat power to be so exceptional—slaying demons like cutting grass, his blade dance growing swifter without a hint of hesitation.
The black and gold armor mixed together, displaying ultimate coordination during their battle with the demons, as if they had practiced thousands of times.
Behind them, a brilliant blue ray lit up. The Sentinels perfectly seized the moment to fire, passing through the gaps in their allies' weapons and piercing through large numbers of demons.
Facing a common hated enemy, three different types of warriors collaborated, rapidly harvesting the Shadow Demon army.
The demons were also terrified; before them were the Imperium of Man's most elite warriors, whose sharpness they found utterly impossible to resist.
Their transcendent bodies were suppressed by the Real Universe, and the demons' eyes couldn't discern their enemies' movements. By the time they reacted, their heads were already separated from their bodies.
They sank into the shadows, then reappeared from them, roaring as they launched a sudden close-range attack.
This tactic had always worked; Shadow Demons, relying on shadow assaults, had carved out domains in the chaotic Warp, which proved how insidious they were.
Unfortunately, this was the Real Universe, and the Doom Slayer was present. The shadows were difficult to approach, and close-quarters assaults devolved into short sprints.
Seeing the blade of light slashing towards it, the demon, knowing it couldn't escape death, dodged with all its might, narrowly avoiding the light blade, only to collide with a Guardian Spear.
The demon closed its eyes contentedly; although its consciousness was damaged, it would eventually return to the Warp, to lie dormant and be reborn through endless ages.
As the demon's physical body died and its consciousness left the Real Universe, it watched its bewildered comrades and shook its head, scoffing at their youth.
To die at the hands of the Imperium of Man's Custodian Guard was merely a journey with minor losses, but to be slain by the Doom Slayer... The Shadow Demon watched its comrades constantly annihilated, slain and absorbed as power by the Doom Slayer. It couldn't understand why the Four Gods had created this monster.
In its final glance, it focused on the center of the battlefield, watching the battle between two powerful entities.
The center of the battlefield was devoid of humans or demons; violent forces clashed, carving out a vacuum zone.
"You harlot!" Be'lakor parried Blazkowicz's attack, letting out an angry roar, "Continue to empower the array, summon my grand army!"
The Benevolent Mother's curled body trembled violently, startled awake by her master's roar, and continued to pour psychic energy, expanding the summoning array to release more demons.
The Shadow Demons were dense, their shadowy veil layering into black oil, continuously gushing out from the array.
"Your army is weak and incompetent." Blazkowicz landed a heavy hook to Be'lakor's abdomen; the latter was carried by the force of the punch, doubling over as he flew backward.
He was not at all worried about the vast demon army; with the Gene-Father's descendants and the Custodian Guard working together, any number of demons would be futile.
Blazkowicz's eyes burned with anger. He held the Crucible Sword in his right hand, and with his left hand forming a sword-finger, he pointed at Be'lakor, who coexisted with the dark sun in the sky: "Come down! Face me with your so called courage."
Be'lakor, momentarily disengaged and airborne, seized the opportunity. He spread his sky-darkening demonic wings, casting a huge shadow over Blazkowicz, and immediately unleashed his shadow power.
Faced with the provocation, Be'lakor remained silent, flying in the air and looking down at Blazkowicz. The demon's left arm reached upwards, its shadow authority touching the shadows.
A warning sign flashed in Blazkowicz's mind. Two shadowy arms emerged from his shadow behind him, reaching out to grasp him.
He ducked low, spinning and swinging his sword in a circle, cutting through the shadows like tearing cloth. The demon arms immediately vanished.
"Hmph!" Be'lakor snorted. He was the Shadow Master; all darkness was his to command.
The demonic shadow enveloping Blazkowicz shifted, the shadows writhing and transforming into a quagmire that swallowed his body, attempting to drag him into the shadow realm.
In a flash, countless arms emerged from the shadows, pressing down on his shoulders, gripping his waist, and continuously pulling Blazkowicz downwards.
"Quick, save the Primarch!" Seeing this, Odysseus shouted anxiously, ordering the Blade Champion to leave the squad and support the Primarch.
The Sentinels's attention was drawn by the Custodian Guard, causing a brief disruption in their firing, but they immediately adjusted.
"No need to panic." A low growl shattered the anxiety. Obelisk brandished his spear, slaying a horde of demons, and signaled the Custodian Guard not to worry.
The Doom Slayer and Blazkowicz were connected in spirit, knowing that the Gene-Father was not in danger.
Odysseus's mind settled slightly, and indeed, he heard the Primarch's sarcastic voice: " Be'lakor, is that all you've got?"
A roar from the center of the battlefield. Blazkowicz's mighty body shook, and as he swung his arms, he shattered the shadows, calmly stepping out of the quagmire.
Be'lakor hovered, flapping his wings; his left arm, shattered by the backlash of his authority, gushed dark blood from the wound, which ignited into shadow flames upon hitting the ground.
Shadows could not harm Blazkowicz; the Godslayer was too strong. The shadow prison that easily trapped the Great Demon could not hold him.
Close-quarters combat offered no advantage, and shadow power was ineffective. Be'lakor couldn't fathom how he could defeat Blazkowicz.
He glanced at the slaughter... the massacred Shadow Demon army, and the Doom Slayer, who inherited the Godslayer's plundering power, growing ever stronger.
Be'lakor lowered his head again; the wound on his arm was slowly healing. After several comparisons, he held no advantage in any aspect.
His golden eyes flickered several times, as if he had made some decision.
"Shadow Demon..." Be'lakor prepared to leave, to escape the invincible enemy before him.
"I've heard an ancient legend," Blazkowicz suddenly spoke, interrupting the Demon Prince, his eyes filled with contempt as he recounted a past event:
"About a Warp stray dog. It wandered between the Four Gods, wagging its tail, fawning over the deities to gain favor, and then the Four Gods discovered that their chosen champion was a fence-sitter, and eventually, it was kicked out."
"You'd best shut your mouth!" Be'lakor's face was rigid to the extreme, letting out a warning growl, his hoarse voice suppressing his anger. It was a past too painful to recall.
"How pathetic," Blazkowicz ignored the threat, instead shouting loudly, "The so-called 'First Demon Prince' is nothing but a plaything of Chaos, a discarded dog to be wantonly abused."
Seeing Be'lakor's hesitant and cowering movements, Blazkowicz knew he wanted to escape, so he preemptively struck at his core pain point.
"I told you to shut up!" How could Be'lakor endure such humiliation? He roared fiercely, his rage burning away his reason, and with a flap of his bat-like wings, he swooped down, sword in hand.
The Prince's wrath caused the earth to shake and the sky to tremble. Like a black lightning bolt, he descended with heavenly might, vowing to destroy the enemy who had shamed him.
Seeing his furious charge, Blazkowicz neither dodged nor evaded. He bent his knees, coiling his power like a fully drawn bow, and with both hands raising the Crucible Sword, he soared upwards to meet him!
Boom!
The roar of thunder could not compare to the sound of their collision. The battle between two demigods transcended all comprehension.
The Godslayer rose from the ground, directly clashing with the diving Demon Prince. Both carried immense power, as if heaven and earth were colliding.
Blazkowicz swung his sword with both hands, an upward slash aiming to cleave Be'lakor in two. The Demon Prince brought down his demonic sword, intending to split the disrespectful one alive!
Sword met sword, fury against fury. There were no elaborate sword techniques, only the raw clash of power.
Their four eyes met, human eyes against demonic eyes, showing no intention of backing down. Killing intent and hatred erupted like flames.
"We once had a chance to fight side by side." During their struggle, Be'lakor, disregarding his shattered arms, continued to press down his demonic sword, his words flowing like a venomous curse: "But you ruined that future!"
"The Four Gods will eventually perish," Blazkowicz continued to exert force with both hands, his face contorted with hatred, spitting out words of fury: "I will personally wring their heads off. No need for you to be concerned about their fate when yours ends today!"
He spat, his spittle landing on Be'lakor's face, contemptuously reviling the Demon Prince: "Why would I ever need to cooperate with a filthy thing like you?"
Crack.
The sound of shattering metal interrupted Be'lakor's retort. His demonic sword, clashing with the Crucible Sword, could not withstand the combined force and let out a wail of unbearable strain.
Blazkowicz's eyes were resolute. He seized the opportunity and exerted force again. The Crucible Sword shattered the Shadow Demonic Sword, its momentum undiminished, and slashed upwards towards Be'lakor's throat.
"No!"
In the nick of time, Be'lakor flapped his wings forward, stopping his downward fall, and awkwardly dodged the god-slaying weapon by twisting his body.
"Ah!"
Another scream. The victor had been decided in the center of the battlefield.
Be'lakor had turned his head to avoid a fatal blow, but the demon's grotesque face was pierced by a wound. The horn on the hilt of the Crucible Sword had grazed his cheek, blinding his right eye.
"Don't you worry Be'lakor, I'll take my time with you!"