On the other side, the followers adhering to Ian's commands were executing their tasks with terrifying efficiency. Their targets were the traitorous Primarchs scattered across the galaxy. The hunt was underway; once a target was captured, they were sent through a portal directly to a specific pocket of space deep within the Warp. There, they would face the person they least wanted to see in this life. The Emperor's judgment hall was beginning to welcome its "guests" one by one.
Ian was even considering whether he should resurrect the Primarchs who were already thoroughly dead. He wanted to see a grand, all-hands-on-deck family drama of "filial piety," purely for the sake of a greater laugh. However, that was a matter for later.
The urgent task at hand was dealing with the alluring female Dark Gods who had been beaten to the ground before him. As for how to dispose of them, it was a question worth deep thought. After all, such unique, powerful, and attractive "tools" would be a waste to simply erase entirely. They possessed immense power, boundless potential, and unique abilities—they could even help him stack his armor.
At that moment, as if sensing the hesitation in Ian's heart, Slaanesh, who had been quietly clinging to his arm, shifted her body slightly. An indescribable sensation traveled up Ian's arm. It felt as if his limb had sunk into a cloud that was supremely comfortable, soft, yet springy and warm.
Mm... this feeling was indeed quite nice. Refreshing!
Ian instinctively reached out, wrapping his arm directly around Slaanesh's slender, soft, yet powerful and elastic waist. The touch from his fingertips was silky and smooth, perfectly complementing the sensation on his arm. As he savored the incredible comfort in his palm, a thought uncontrollably bubbled up.
Given his current strength, it would likely be difficult to achieve a qualitative leap in the short term; he had already touched a certain ceiling. In that case, shouldn't he relax a little and enjoy himself? Since his transmigration, he had either been fighting or on the way to a fight. Saving the world, stabilizing the universe—he had labored for so long with his nerves constantly taut. Now that the overall situation was settled, what was wrong with rewarding himself a little?
Furthermore, the "Slaanesh" in his arms posed no real threat to him now. The key was that every detail of Slaanesh in this form—from her hair to her fingertips, inside and out—had been sculpted under the unconscious influence of his own power. Even her thought patterns and personality had shifted toward a direction that better aligned with his subconscious preferences.
This wasn't forced. In fact, this was the optimal survival route Slaanesh had chosen for herself after actively observing countless futures. As for her past essence or former personality? In the face of absolute power and the will to survive, she didn't care at all. Compared to the massive power she possessed now and the sense of security brought by clinging to the strong, her past persistence was worthless.
Cradled in Ian's arms, Slaanesh seemed to accurately capture the conflict in his thoughts. Her gaze drifted subtly between Tzeentch and Khorne on the ground. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her warm breath brushing against Ian's ear as she whispered a few seductive words that only the two of them could hear.
Hearing this, Ian cast his gaze once more toward the two "female Dark Gods." He began to scrutinize them more closely. He had to admit that putting aside their former identities and judging purely by their current appearances, they certainly met his aesthetic standards.
Tzeentch, lying on the ground, was tall and well-proportioned with striking curves. Her face carried a peculiar aura that mixed intellect with cunning. The blue feathers covering her body didn't look strange at all; instead, they were like the most magnificent brocade, adding an indescribable exotic charm and mystery.
On the other side, Khorne was even more eye-catching. The heavy brass armor she wore had long since become tattered and broken during the previous beating. The gaping cracks and shattered plates revealed her "rule-breakingly" explosive figure without reservation. Her skin glowed with a healthy luster, and her muscle lines were elegant and smooth, full of power yet retaining beauty.
As former Chaos Gods, gender was originally a meaningless concept to them. But now, under the repeated "polishing" of Ian's near-reality-warping power, a certain "concept" had been forcibly injected into their essence. From now on, in this main universe, Khorne's form would be fixed as this wild Valkyrie image. And Tzeentch would forever remain this intellectual and seductive blue-feathered beauty. Physiologically and psychologically, they were set—unless their strength could surpass Ian's.
By his ear, Slaanesh's bewitching words continued, like the most exquisite movement or the sweetest poison, thread by thread, quietly seeping into his heart and plucking at his most primal impulses.
A bold idea that had previously only been a vague flash in Ian's mind gradually became clear and feasible. Once the decision was made, action followed.
A portal radiating spatial fluctuations quietly opened beneath Nurgle's massive frame. Her voluptuous body plummeted downward, instantly vanishing into the light of the portal. The destination beneath the portal was precisely the Emperor's bedchamber.
In the next instant, Ian's silhouette blurred. He appeared before Khorne and Tzeentch. He reached out his arms, easily lifting the two former Dark Gods from the ground.
The Khorne he lifted seemed to still retain the instincts and unyielding nature of a war god. She struggled violently, letting out muffled roars from her mouth, appearing to still clamor for another round with Ian—a one-on-one, honorable duel. As she twisted forcefully, the already tattered brass armor emitted groans of being overstressed. More cracks split open, and plates fell away, exposing even more striking scenery. Large patches of fair skin shimmered with an alluring luster under the eerie light of the Warp.
"How bold, Khorne."
A flash of anger crossed Ian's eyes. "This must be her new tactic!"
'She's attempting to use this method to distract me, disturb my mind, and then find an opportunity to strike back.'
'I cannot let my guard down; I must take this upcoming "battle" very seriously.'
On the other hand, the Tzeentch held in his other hand was completely different. She showed no signs of struggling. Her blue wings tucked in slightly, and a hint of excitement even flickered on her face. For her, the current outcome might already be the best one among countless future simulations. She no longer had to worry about being killed. Through a brief glimpse of the threads of fate, she seemed to have caught sight of a rather decent future.
Then, Ian's figure flashed again, vanishing from the broken battlefield of the gods. Disappearing with him were Slaanesh, who was snuggled tightly against his side, and the two he held in his hands—the violently struggling Khorne and the quietly resigned Tzeentch.
Next, a more intense battle that delved deeper into the soul was about to begin. The intensity of this war might even surpass the previous siege by the twelve Dark Gods. This forced Ian to muster every ounce of his spirit and go all out.