This is the bonus chapter for reaching 1100 powerstones
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Zeke continued his harvest. There were quite a few sponges scattered around; he wondered who had left them behind.
After clearing the blocks, Zeke glanced at a pitchfork stuck in the ground nearby. For a second, his heart had leaped—he'd mistaken it for a Trident.
A real Trident would be a game-changer. With Channeling, he could summon lightning from the sky. With Riptide, he could turn rain into flight. Both were incredibly useful.
I should check if there are any creatures in Warhammer like the Drowned that might drop one, he mused.
Zeke walked out of the alley and hopped back onto the parade vehicle. Moments later, a scream echoed from the shadows:
"Which bastard stole my sponges?!"
–
The procession finally halted at the Fortress of Hera. The fortress, recently reclaimed from Chaos, had been hastily decorated for the occasion.
On the command deck, the Consul began to loudly flatter Guilliman, his spittle nearly flying onto Zeke's face in his fervor.
Chapter Master Calgar silently moved behind the Consul, cutting off his escape route. He flexed his Power Gauntlet, calculating the angle of impact to ensure no traitorous blood would splatter onto the Primarch.
As the crowd's cheers reached a fever pitch, the Consul held up a crown carved from pure gold. It was magnificent.
"Only you are worthy of such an object, my Lord."
The Consul praised Guilliman to the skies, practically begging him to wear the crown.
Zeke stepped forward and snatched the crown right out of the Consul's hands.
"99% pure gold. Good stuff. Fulgrim is really generous."
"What? What Fulgrim?"
The Consul tried to mask his terror with outrage. "Who gave you the nerve? This is a gift prepared for the Lord of Macragge! You are overstepping your bounds, soldier. Give it back immediately."
He reached for the crown, casting a pleading look at Guilliman. The only response he received was the Primarch's cold indifference.
Calgar placed a heavy hand on the Consul's shoulder, applying just enough pressure to promise that one more move would result in shattered bones.
Zeke examined the item.
[Crown of Thorns]
Description: A gift prepared by the Daemon Prince Fulgrim for Guilliman. Whoever wears it will be immersed in endless fantasies. Many pure and powerful heroes have fallen to its temptation.
Even with a mind as fortified as Guilliman's, in the original lore, he nearly succumbed to this trap. Fortunately, his reaction speed had saved him—he had sensed the anomaly the moment it touched his brow.
Well, Zeke thought, since the Consul likes it so much, he should have it.
Zeke reached out and placed the crown on the Consul's head.
The old man shuddered violently, shaking his head until the crown clattered to the ground. "This is a gift for the Lord of Macragge! I am not qualified to accept this honor!"
Zeke picked it up. No wonder Fulgrim's plan failed. This thing has no grip.
"It falls off with just a little shake. How could such a plan succeed? Let me modify it for you."
He had previously commissioned Dance to stock up on various Enchanted Books. With the Anvil Upgrade installed in his Sophisticated Backpack, he could enchant items on the fly.
Zeke slammed the crown onto the anvil. He applied Curse of Binding. Then, after a moment's thought, he added Unbreaking III.
"What's wrong with being immersed in fantasies forever?"
Zeke forced the crown onto the Consul's head.
This time, even though the man shook his head like a rattle drum, the crown didn't budge a millimeter.
The Consul began to scream curses, but as the crown settled, his voice died in his throat. In an instant, his mind was flooded with magnificent visions, painting a glorious future.
He saw himself killing Guilliman and being ascended by Slaanesh into a true Daemon Prince.
He saw himself slaying the Emperor and taking a seat on the Golden Throne.
Wait... isn't the Golden Throne a torture device? What's so good about sitting on that?
That final vision startled the Consul awake. He sucked in a cold breath.
Fake! It's all fake!
He clawed desperately at the gold band circling his brow.
Zeke signaled Calgar to release him.
Freed from the Chapter Master's grip, the Consul threw himself to the floor, smashing his head against the stone. But even as he bashed his skull until it bled, the crown's durability only dropped by a fraction. It remained firmly bound.
Curse of Binding was absolute.
The Consul's eyes rolled back, turning white as he fully succumbed to the illusion. A look of drooling ecstasy replaced his panic. It was then that his disguise finally failed. The human skin peeled away like a husk, revealing a deformed, twisted mass of flesh wearing a necklace around its "neck."
"Hahaha, my dear brother Guilliman, how do you like the gift I carefully prepared for you?"
A snake-like hiss emanated from the necklace, dripping with mockery.
It was Fulgrim. Guilliman would never forget that voice.
An eye sprouted from the mass of flesh, looking expectantly toward Guilliman's head. It found nothing but golden hair.
The necklace fell silent. The eye swiveled, scanning the venue, until it finally landed on the crooked crown sitting on the spy's head.
Fulgrim was a being who pursued perfection in all things. He had carefully orchestrated this entire scheme—the spy, the gift, the malicious spell. Yet not only had his plan failed, but this human had also checkmated him, turning his grand design into a farce.
Zeke then proceeded to decapitate the Consul with a single strike. The crown popped off as loot. Zeke caught it and spun it casually around his index finger.
"You lowly, despicable human! I will drag you to my palace and turn you into a—"
Fulgrim unleashed a torrent of "elegant" threats but Zeke killed the conversation with one sentence:
"My mom told me not to talk to ugly people."
Ugly? Me?
As the Daemon Prince of Slaanesh, Fulgrim believed he possessed the most perfect form in existence. He wanted to drag Zeke into the Warp right then and there to debate aesthetics.
But Guilliman stepped forward, and Fulgrim was forced to "catch up" with his long-lost brother first.
In the end, the eye fixed its gaze on Zeke.
"I have marked you, human. Just you wait. I will mount your eyeballs in the most conspicuous spot in my palace, so you can witness my true beauty for eternity."
Bang.
The necklace exploded.
Zeke stowed the crown in his backpack. Guilliman remained silent, but his gaze asked the obvious question: What do you intend to do with that thing?
"I want to give him a taste of his own medicine," Zeke said solemnly. Fulgrim, you'd better pray I don't catch you.
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Next goal = 1200 Powerstones.
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