Within the Warp.
The battle continued.
Endless chaotic light and shadow were annihilated and reborn. The power of the God of Humanity and the four Chaos Gods of the Warp, born from ancient times, clashed and tore through everything.
It was a sight that would drive any psyker into eternal madness. Four-colored chaotic energy and pure golden brilliance collided violently across every dimension of the Warp. They eroded, devoured, and annihilated one another. Every contact triggered terrifying fluctuations that shook the foundations of space.
Numerous rifts spread frantically from the center of the collision. At the end of each rift lay a shredded possibility—a future completely erased.
Amidst the turbulence between them, Adam's figure repeatedly reappeared. His form flickered within the violent tides of the Warp, sometimes appearing like a small boat in a storm, other times like a sharp blade of light piercing through everything. His hands moved continuously, fingers tracing paths of reality-warping power in the air. Wherever those paths crossed, the energy tides of the four Chaos Gods were stripped away, decomposed, and restructured.
Adam's reality-warping power acted like a needle finding gaps, neutralizing energies capable of tearing apart stars with astonishing control. He even began converting the neutralized chaotic energy into the Emperor's golden light.
Powers once belonging to the four Chaos Gods were rewoven in Adam's hands, akin to a supreme alchemy. The scarlet mists of slaughter were stripped of their madness, turning into pure combat will that merged into the golden light. The shifting blue spells were drained of their schemes, leaving only the essential light of wisdom. The purple energies of pleasure were filtered of their toxic desires, revealing an artistic beauty. The green plagues of decay were burned of their rot, manifesting a vibrant vitality.
All the purified power transformed into more intense golden brilliance, raising the power of the God of Humanity—which had been at a disadvantage—to a level where it could confront the four Chaos Gods head-on.
The golden tide began to strike back. They formed a strange equilibrium at the center of the Warp, where neither side could overwhelm the other completely.
Of course, while Adam and the Emperor held their ground, they still could not prevent the four Chaos Gods from projecting power into the material universe. Those chaotic energies acted like floodwaters finding a crack, leaking continuously from the Warp toward the veil separating reality from illusion. They tore at the barrier, attempting to shred it and bring destruction to the fleet fighting in the material universe.
This was the fleet currently led by the Primarch Guilliman, consisting of six thousand Macragge's Honour-class warships.
However, six thousand Gloriana-class ships possessed an unimaginably long "health bar." No matter how much power the four Chaos Gods projected or how hard they tried to destroy the fleet, those ships acted like relentless ghosts. One fell, and another rose. Their numbers were indeed decreasing, but the speed was despairingly slow. Even if they were reduced to a tenth of their strength, the remaining power could easily eliminate the already heavily damaged Chaos fleet.
This confidence allowed Adam to set aside his concerns and devote himself entirely to the confrontation with the four Gods, letting his elites wreak havoc within the Chaos domains.
Within those Warp domains, the actions of the four chosen representatives projected by Adam continued. All had been elevated to Level 3 reality-warpers by Adam's power, which now enveloped them.
On Khorne's brass desert.
Lucia shouted her slogans. Every swing of her sword, burning with golden flames, carved a brilliant arc through the air capable of tearing the Warp's structure. The radiance of faith upon her body bloomed further. The light was so pure and intense that the dark red sand grains evaporated into nothingness upon contact with the golden glow.
"Blood for the God-Emperor!" Her voice echoed over the desert. Every syllable became a golden ripple spreading in all directions. Wherever the ripples passed, any daemon of Khorne touched by the light was reduced to ash. Figures burning with black flames and golden light surged like a tide toward the daemon legions, their black-flamed blades and bolters slaughtering the bloodthirsty daemons with ease.
In Tzeentch's crystal labyrinth.
Inquisitor Sibyl danced. Her form moved gracefully between the twisted crystals. With every step, a golden psychic flower bloomed beneath her feet. Accompanying her was the most powerful group of psykers in the current universe. These psykers, gathered from various sectors, unleashed their powers without restraint under Sibyl's lead. One bizarre spell after another bloomed from their hands. The daemons of Tzeentch, craving change, were banished one by one into eerily burning psychic flames, their essences incinerated.
In Slaanesh's six-ringed palace.
The rumbling of cannons shattered the eternal peace and indulgence. Belisarius Cawl stepped forward calmly, crushing meticulously crafted artworks beneath his feet. Behind him, the iron army composed of countless Cawl clones deployed a fire-grid with suffocating efficiency. The light of cannon muzzles flashed simultaneously in every corner of the purple palace.
A rain of shells poured into every visible and hidden space. Every shell contained reality-warping power. Upon contact with the daemons of Slaanesh, they erupted into golden flames, consuming the twisted beings that craved pain and pleasure. Exquisite decorations were crushed underfoot like trash. The daemons of Slaanesh screamed in rage and pain, trying to stop the steel torrent with the fragrance of pleasure, eerie music, and illusions capable of hooking any desire.
However, Belisarius Cawl remained unmoved.
In Nurgle's rotting garden.
The steel torrent led by Commissar Yarrick drove straight in. Massive armored units sped through the already heavily damaged garden, splashing decayed pus as their tracks ground forward. The cannons thundered.
The round bodies of Nurglings turned into puddles of pus under the fire. Larger plague daemons tried to block the steel torrent with their bloated bodies, but Commissar Yarrick merely waved his power claw. The heavy tanks behind him fired simultaneously, evaporating the daemons along with the plague dripping from them.
Fire. Destruction. And... death.
The domains of the four Chaos Gods were burning. The destruction brought by Adam's unreserved efforts was eroding the four Gods' realms at a visible speed.
Clearly, the four Chaos Gods soon realized the situation was unfavorable. After all, the power they projected was only attacking a fleet that Adam could simply "hand-craft" again if destroyed. Meanwhile, their own homes were being systematically ruined. The daemons being erased were truly perishing, and the destroyed territories were truly being purified.
Thus, the four Gods struck again. This time, it was not a probe but an all-out assault.
Adam was momentarily stunned. Layers of illusions expanded before his eyes. This was the power of Tzeentch—the art of shifting change pushed to its limit. Endless Warp turbulence rose. Each surge seemed to contain the energy of a solar flare. They surged upward, creating a tide in the Warp that covered an area comparable to an entire star sector. The turbulence turned into countless tentacles, coiling toward Adam from every imaginable and unimaginable angle.
Adam snorted, and a thought flashed through his mind. Reality-warping power erupted from his body like a storm. The coiling illusory tentacles dissipated like morning mist in the sun.
But just as he drove away these clinging shadows, a scarlet glow appeared in Adam's eyes. The scent of endless slaughter filled his nostrils. The air was so thick it felt as if all the wars, blood, and killing in the galaxy from ancient times to the present had been compressed into this single moment. The air turned into invisible blades, carving wounds into his tongue and mouth.
Blood poured from Adam's mouth.
Slash!
Adam looked down thoughtfully. He watched the blood spray from his chest. The wound appeared without warning, as if it had always been there. Blood geysered three or four meters high. A bloody gash tore across his abdomen, completely severing Adam's body at the waist. Adam's upper body fell powerlessly, slamming onto the ground he had imagined.
A brutal bisection.
"How interesting." Adam felt no pain at this moment. He only recalled the details of that strike with great interest.
That strike seemed to have instantaneously drawn upon the killing power of the entire galaxy. All wars, all blood, all conflict, all violence—the concepts emitted by the slaughter and destruction playing out in every corner of the galaxy since ancient times—were drawn in an instant by an entity and turned into a blade capable of cutting through anything. It was the pure concept of "Slaughter" itself.
Terrible. Incredibly powerful.
Adam suddenly remembered something. In a future day, Khorne would use this method to gather immense power into his champion, Angron, whose strike would destroy the Choral Engine, the so-called second Astronomican.
So that's how it was.
Adam's form dissolved into light. A massive black-and-white clock flashed briefly in the void. As the hands turned backward, a certain history was negated. A new fact was authored.
Adam stepped forward, walking gently past his own dissolving corpse. The broken body behind him completely vanished into golden motes of light, while the brand-new Adam stood intact. He looked up at the four divine domains continuing to expand before him.
Adam smiled faintly. "Not enough killing," he said softly. "Again!"
In response to Adam's provocation, a violent vortex rose once more in the Warp. The fury of the four Chaos Gods turned into a more terrifying tide, crushing toward Adam from all sides. Adam raised his hands.
As Adam neutralized their incoming assault with reality-warping power once again, he looked up thoughtfully toward the material universe. Then, he saw it. The Vengeful Spirit was launching drop pods toward the surface of Pythos.
Adam withdrew his gaze. It was time. The real plan was about to begin.
With a thought, Adam sent the message across a vast distance to the other end.
Cadia. Deep underground.
Ferrus Manus calmly put away his small communication device. Then, he stood up from his seat. Beside the Son of the Gorgon, in the underground blackstone mines of Cadia, a dense array of equipment appeared.
Some of the equipment came from the highest technological achievements of the Imperium, gleaming with metallic luster and complex energy conduits. Others clearly bore an alien style—silver-white, bone-like winding pipes and energy nodes emitting a faint green light, all signaling they came from Necron technology.
Human and Necron technologies shone together here. It was a sight that would never appear in any other context. But now, these devices were operating together in a strange and harmonious way.
Numerous personnel moved back and forth between the machines. Among them were even a few silver-white skeleton-like Necrons. Seeing the highest official here stand up, everyone realized what was happening. They put down their work and looked at him.
The entire underground space fell into a heavy silence. Ferrus Manus spoke calmly to everyone. His voice was not loud, but it was as clear as thunder in the underground chamber.
"Everyone, prepare." The Primarch paused, his gaze sweeping across every person present. "Our work is about to begin."