-Simulation-
The next moment, waves of terrifying tremors shook the entire vessel. The vibrations were so violent that even the Primarch could hardly balance his massive body, his boots scraping against the buckling deck as he fought to remain upright.
An extremely shrill sound of metal twisting came from deep within the Death Guard's flagship Terminus. The noise was agonizing, high-pitched enough to pierce through even sealed helmets and corrupted audio filters. It seemed less like the physical stress of tearing metal and more like the miserable cry of the ship's machine spirit itself, screaming its final death throes.
But that terrible sound was far from the only consequence of your actions. Continuous explosions began to detonate in chain reactions throughout the vessel, each blast feeding into the next. Scorching fire erupted from ruptured fuel lines and ammunition stores, racing through corridors in waves of consuming heat.
Throughout the ship, countless Death Guards who had been suffering from the endless pain of the Destroyer Plague found their torment finally, mercifully ended. Some were completely swallowed up by the explosion fire, their corrupted bodies reduced to ash in instants of cleansing heat. Others were sucked violently into tears opening in reality itself, drawn screaming into the depths of the Warp as the vessel's Gellar fields catastrophically failed.
At this moment, you, still kneeling on one knee with your mutilated body barely held together, couldn't help but laugh wildly at the Pale King Mortarion. The sound bubbled up from your remaining lung, blood-flecked and triumphant. You had won. Not the battle, perhaps, but something more important.
The laughter was cut short as Mortarion's energy pistol Lantern burst out with another discharge of terrifying energy. The beam struck true this time, completely melting your entire head in a flash of incandescent heat. Flesh, bone, and brain tissue simply ceased to exist, vaporized in an instant.
Your mutilated body fell heavily to the corrupted deck. The sound of the collision, which should have been thunderous, was completely obscured by the roar of the approaching explosions that raced toward your position like hungry predators.
The next second, surging explosion flames quickly engulfed Mortarion's towering form. Through it all, those dead yellow eyes seemed to reveal just a hint of something unexpected. Relief, perhaps. Or regret. The expression was gone before it could be properly identified, swallowed by fire and fury.
Your mutilated body was completely destroyed in the conflagration, reduced to component atoms scattered across the burning deck.
Yet your consciousness did not immediately dissipate as it should have. Something held you together, some force or will that refused to let you simply cease.
Your perspective seemed to start rising rapidly, as though you were being pulled upward by invisible hands. Your viewpoint gradually left the Terminus flagship behind, ascending through layers of corrupted deck plating and armored hull. You watched from above as the vessel entered its final state of catastrophic destruction, explosions blossoming across its surface like deadly flowers.
Your slowly dissipating consciousness entered the chaotic and treacherous Warp without reservation, plunging into that realm of impossible geometry and maddening colors. Here, the laws of physics held no sway. Here, emotion became reality and nightmares walked as gods.
Through eyes that no longer existed, you seemed to vaguely perceive something massive moving through the churning Warp currents. A giant green hand, impossibly vast, slowly penetrated the chaotic flow. The appendage was covered with thick, fat knuckles and disgusting pustules that wept constantly across the back. Each finger was the size of a battleship, each pustule contained plagues that could end worlds.
The giant green hand scooped up the flagship Terminus just as it was about to be completely obliterated in the final explosion. The vessel, which had seemed so enormous from within, looked like a child's toy in that titanic grasp. The hand cradled the ship almost gently, preventing its total disintegration.
Even some of the Death Guards who had been swept deep into the Warp, their bodies and souls tumbling through impossible dimensions, were picked up again by those giant green fingers. With surprising tenderness, they were gently stuffed back into the damaged cabin, returned to the dubious safety of the material realm.
Through your dissipating consciousness, you seemed to hear bursts of honest laughter. The sound carried a kind tone, almost paternal, filled with genuine warmth and affection. It was the laugh of a father collecting his wayward children, gathering them back to safety.
The giant green hand, still holding the flagship Terminus in its palm like a treasured possession, slowly turned. It rotated ponderously through the Warp currents and descended suddenly toward your position, reaching for your fragmenting consciousness with clear intent.
Panic arose in the depths of your awareness before it could fully dissipate. Some primal survival instinct screamed warnings that penetrated even your dying thoughts.
Accompanied by waves of sudden Warp turbulence that rippled outward like shock waves, another presence revealed itself.
A giant red hand, seemingly entangled with countless traces of resentful souls and flowing with heavy rivers of blood, suddenly manifested. It emerged from concealment where it had apparently been lurking, hidden for some time, waiting for precisely this moment. The appendage dripped with gore and echoed with the screams of the damned.
The two giant hands collided with each other in a clash that shook the very foundations of the Warp itself. The impact generated waves of psychic force that radiated outward in all directions, distorting reality and unreality alike. The turbulence seemed to gradually speed up the dissipation of your consciousness, pulling you apart faster than you were already fragmenting.
This forced the red giant hand to instantly give up its fight with the green hand. Changing tactics, it surged forward with desperate speed, reaching to grab you before you could fade entirely.
However, at precisely that moment, a third force intervened. Terrifying psychic power surged out from somewhere deeper in the turbulent Warp, from a source even more ancient and terrible than the warring gods. The energy struck with surgical precision, annihilating the remaining fragments of your consciousness that had been dissipating too slowly.
Your vision plunged completely into endless darkness. All sensation ceased. All thought ended.
But even in that absolute void, there seemed to be something else. Another hazy scene manifested before your non-existent eyes, impossibly vivid despite having nothing left to see it with.
You perceived an ancient chessboard, its surface crafted from alternating squares of purest black and gleaming white. Each square seemed to contain infinite depth, as though one could fall forever into their polished surfaces.
A huge bronze palm, larger than planets, more ancient than stars, gently held up an exquisite and gorgeous black tarot card. The card was a work of art beyond mortal comprehension, its edges gilded in gold that never tarnished, its surface smooth as still water.
Upon that extremely smooth face, images shifted and changed.
The card representing the Pale King, called the Contempt of the Wall, first transformed into something else entirely. It became a pale heart being devoured by maggots, the organ writhing as countless larvae burrowed through dying tissue. Then, as quickly as it had changed, the image reverted back to the Contempt of the Wall.
But the transformation was not complete. The next moment, the Contempt of the Wall depicted on the card turned back once more into that pale heart consumed by maggots, the cycle repeating endlessly.
You seemed to hear a sigh, heavy with despair that spanned millennia. The sound carried infinite weariness, the exhaustion of one who had watched the same tragedy play out too many times to count.
Your vision completely lost its final focus, the chessboard fading into obscurity.
[This simulation is over. Duration: unknown.]
[The retainable rewrd obtained from this simulation are as follows:]
[1. Khorne's Glory Armor of the Blood God (Please choose carefully)]
[Note: This is a specially-made Cataphractii-pattern Terminator power armor bearing Death Shroud markings. It is daemonic equipment formed by the powerful blessing of the Chaos God Khorne.]
[Note: Not only can it greatly enhance the wearer's melee combat capabilities and physical strength, but if worn for a long enough time, the Terminator power armor that continuously absorbs the enemy's blood may undergo an ultimate evolution far beyond the wearer's imagination.]
[Note: However, if the wearer uses this set of daemonic equipment for a long time, the desire for killing and blood will become increasingly difficult to control, and eventually the wearer will become a murderous monster and puppet of the Chaos God Khorne.]
[Note: No one can escape the gaze of Khorne, especially not you who have been so close to the red line of corruption.]
[Note: I am afraid that Master Khorne will say: The only way to sacrifice one's life for righteousness is to chop, slash, and kill.]
[2. Scythe and Pistol: Silence and Lantern (Master Level)]
[Note: This is a paired set of sidearms belonging to the Primarch, the Pale King Mortarion. Among them, the scythe Silence may have an unexplainable relationship with Mortarion's warlord adoptive father. The energy pistol Lantern was a gift from his gene-father, the Emperor.]
[Note: The great scythe Silence seems to be cast in one piece using some lost alien technology, and is so strong that even melta weapons cannot damage it. As for the alien energy pistol Lantern, the terrifying power that is enough to melt through Terminator armor also makes it a rare and precious piece of alien technology. Otherwise it would not have become one of the Emperor's personal collections.]
[Note: It is said that there is an ultimate secret about the alien sect of the Dragon Star hidden inside the barrel of the alien energy pistol Lantern, which even the Emperor has not discovered.]
[Note: I have a scythe in my left hand and a pistol in my right hand. I wear the armor of Barbarus on my body to block people and kill people, to block daemons and kill daemons!]
[3. Pebble Kidney - Mortarion's Regret (Primarch Organ)]
[Note: This replica of a pebble kidney, which is half the size of a palm, belongs to the Pale King Mortarion who has not yet fallen. Perhaps this is the only organ tissue of the Primarch who later became the Daemon Prince of Decay that has not been corrupted by Chaos.]
[Note: It seems to have been personally blessed and strengthened by the Emperor himself.]
[Note: The pebble kidney that works in conjunction with the secondary heart can give you extremely powerful detoxification capabilities, enough to neutralize various toxins from a small alien empire without any harm to your body whatsoever. As for the special abilities hidden within it, you will need to discover them separately.]
[Note: This is a terrified cry from the Great Fluttering Moth Mortarion: Father?]
[Note: The Emperor seems to think that you have reached your own limit, and the failure to save this unfilial heir from his inevitable fall has nothing to do with you. After all, all the responsibility lies with the Warp.]
This simulation time has exceeded 24 hours, and the simulator loss has not been exempted.
Cooldown time: zero
Currently available cooldown time: 8,043 hours
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