Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

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The youngest lady cried out, “Go away, all of you! They will not understand Him!”

He trembled, thinking excitedly.

Is He conforming to His concept? Or is He going against His concept? The Dark Prince does not wish to explore the emotions that follow; He focuses only on that moment, that ultimate instant.

This moment belongs only to Him and the person opposite Him; it has nothing to do with any other being.

After having tasted that unique experience, the excruciating itch still clung to Him, and how delighted He was! How He loved it!

The youngest lady governs desire, reaching the pinnacle of perfection, pursuing the ultimate—the revelry brought about by absolute perfection.

He is the god who was awakened from the self-destructive revelry of the Spirit Race.

The black and purple bracelet jingled softly, a corner of the black veil draped over the purple silk. The balance of the highest heavens could never be broken, for they would not allow desire to continue to spread…

Why not choose to have a grand celebration yourself?

Ah~~~~ This wonderful thing—everything is so wonderful!

...Of course, oh right, of course, of course, of course, of course—

My dear,

A long, resilient pink tongue licked across the fangs.

Your loved ones are also by its side.

Go find him.

With her slender arms bent, she removed his perfect body, and the tattered mess was casually tossed aside. Beneath her arched eyebrows, a sense of regret was reflected in the pure starlight within the discarded object, but before the greater bliss, these were insignificant sacrifices!

Good heavens—He is already, He can't wait any longer!

Come, my love!

That's all. I'll catch up on the missed updates during winter break... *sigh*

Chapter 503 A Day Trip to Slaanesh's Palace

【The Emperor's Pride】

Amidst the resounding bugle calls and under a dazzling array of golden lights, the handsome Fugen stood on the stage, his head held high, his eyes looking down at the figure striding towards him.

The towering, black armor dragged across the ground, the long scythe sparked, and the expressionless mask was rife with horrific cracks.

The unicorn strode into the theater, causing the nobles in the audience to gasp and rise to their feet. Beside the Primarch, Lucius and Adoron drew their swords from their waists, raised them forward, and stood on either side of the Primarch as his loyal guards.

[Step down.]

Fugen spoke calmly, standing gracefully on the high platform, but unnoticed by anyone, a madness raged beneath his eyes, and a satisfied smile kept creeping onto his lips.

Lucius turned his head sharply, staring at the Primarch in disbelief, but the Primarch was not looking at him; Fugen's entire attention was on the unicorn.

But seeing that the guards didn't leave, Fugen frowned.

Step aside, my child.

Fugen spoke again, softly.

Leave here, and I will help you.

Lucius's question caught in his throat. He tried to say something, but his body was already moving backward uncontrollably. He sheathed his sword and took one last look at the Primarch's back, which seemed to glow against the light.

As if in a dream, Lucius ran wildly toward the stern of the Imperial Pride after leaving the stage.

Not only him, but all the emperor's sons were retreating towards the stern of the ship.

But at this moment, the theater was still bustling with activity.

You should have come sooner.

Fugen looked at the unicorn and spoke as if in anger, while the Primarch stood on the stage and drew his sword from his waist.

The unicorn ignored the Primarch's words, and these noisy Eldar remained unusually silent.

When the Primarch saw that his words received no response, he turned his head and looked at the great nobleman standing on a step beside him, holding a crown and looking hesitant.

Fugen gave a mocking laugh, and the Primarch simply reached out and snatched the purple-gold crown from the high nobleman, placing it on his own head.

Give me a round of applause!

The Primarch's words echoed throughout the grand theater atop Imperial Pride. Below the stage, the audience members, who had previously displayed various expressions, suddenly all turned their gazes toward the Primarch. People stood up, began to applaud, and started to cheer.

The Primarch strode off the stage, and amidst applause from the audience, the spotlight focused on him as Fugen moved.

With each step Fugen took, a purple ripple spread beneath his exquisite boots, the waves of desire rippling, casting an ambiguous, sultry heat over the magnificent theater.

Space began to distort, and as the veil was pierced at the junction of the subspace and the physical world, the Glory Queen began to sink, descending into the realm of the High Heavens—and those eerie, Eldar-style carved patterns emerged.

Come, my dear.

Fugen smiled, his eyes darkening, and his grinning mouth revealed his white fangs.

The Primarch stopped, his sword pointing directly at the slowly approaching unicorn.

Come on~

The unicorn bit its tongue hard, while endless screams echoed in the Eldar's ears. The echo of that scream from years ago still reverberated in the Slaanesh's sixth ring, lingering for a long time.

But this also means that this place is now completely tied to Slaanesh's palace!

"They're just puppets, not worth mentioning."

The unicorn spoke coldly, calling out fiercely to the Lord of the Underworld in his heart. Behind the Spirit Race, his companions also cast a summoning array, within which the figures of those praying were faintly visible.

But this is not enough.

The unicorn horn is clear.

He raised the long sickle that he was completely unaccustomed to using before, his eyes filled with determination.

For Asuyan, for Xigaoqi, for the Spirit Clan, for revenge.

For... Hades!

A powerful surge of psionic energy erupted around the unicorn, and frost climbed onto his scythe.

"For Hades!!!"

With a powerful leap from the ground, the unicorn soared through the air, tracing a graceful arc. He then twisted his wrist, sending the massive, curved scythe spinning as it slashed straight at the Primarch!

Fugen raised his head, his eyes, completely consumed by ecstatic joy, fixed on the clown, a graceful smile playing on his lips.

In an instant, the Primarch casually raised his hand, the sword in his hand flashing with a sharp, cold light, the tip of the sword piercing towards the clown slashing at him in the air.

laugh!

Drops of blood splattered on the Primarch's beautiful face. Fugen stuck out his tongue and licked the blood off his face with satisfaction.

He pulled the clown, who was strapped to the sword and was powerless to struggle after the first blow, closer to him.

This brave Eldar is still struggling; look, he has sacrificed his life, his soul, his faith…

The clown coughed up blood, his laughter broken and violent as he cursed viciously.

"We have already won! Puppet! You and your master are finished! Hades has arrived! And you are stained with my blood!"

As the clown spoke, the theater trembled violently. The deafening applause seemed to fade away rapidly, and a black-and-white rift climbed up from one corner of the door and quickly extended.

"You can't escape!"

Even now, he was still struggling, his body radiating a dazzling psionic light, increasing their chances of success... How touching...

The unicorn, who was cursing loudly, suddenly froze.

The Primarch embraced the Bacchante as if hugging an old friend, and words from the Warp flowed from the tip of his tongue, which rested lightly against the Bacchante's ear.

My dear children,

The youngest lady said,

Thank you for the gifts.

Fugen reached out and pulled out the unicorn's heart. The Elven in his arms stopped struggling completely, and the pupils exposed from the mask dilated, as if it had realized something extremely terrifying in its last second before death.

My good child,

Fugen swallowed the piece of flesh and blood.

Come on.

He looked at the darkness rushing towards him, lifted his pearl-studded boots, and strode confidently and impatiently into the darkness—

----------

Slaanesh Six Rings

You are enveloped in layers of sheer curtains and veils; the music and dancing have ceased.

Your favorite dancer hesitated and stopped in her tracks with fear. The silver bells that ran through her ankles also stopped, their clear ringing echoing for the last two moments, reverberating like ghosts throughout your vast palace.

Here it comes.

But you have already chosen what you will sacrifice, what you will offer in exchange for ultimate pleasure.

You yawned lazily, but your inner self was not as cold as you appeared. Your inner self was passionate, sweet, and trembling with excitement for what was to come, calling out wildly and breathing heavily.

You feel that cold, greedy, emotionless gaze licking your bare back, and you let out a satisfied moan as you pant.

The beast is coming, it's coming—it lingers just outside your territory, scrutinizing you with the eyes of a predator.

It's lingering in front of your door.

Death and annihilation accompany it.

Having experienced the minor hiccups on Cartier, you already knew what the process would be like.

That beast has marked you; it remembers your scent.

Amidst a sense of shrug—your servants, unlike you, do not strive for true perfection; they minimize themselves as much as possible to avoid attention.

You slowly rise from the soft, sinking bed, letting yourself be bathed in the gaze that drives you mad.

You recall that force that vanished instantly—death, true death. You can no longer revive it; any effort you make falls into that pool of dark water, leaving only silence.

A beast that brings eternal death, you tremble, the youngest lady's slender fingers involuntarily rise, stroking her face, come, come, come, let you dance with the beast—every step must be perfect—failure will result in eternal slumber.

You started trembling again, overwhelmed with joy and excitement.

Come here,

You said softly,

Bite me.

The only response you receive is the crystal chandelier on the dome that suddenly dims.

It came in.

Slaanesh let out a satisfied sigh.

At this point, your enemies and allies who hate injustice finally put away their scrutinizing gazes.

That's it, great!

Chapter 504 Within the Sixth Ring Road

[Warning: This chapter contains extremely minor Slave demonstrations.]

what……

Oh, the gods awakened from the fallen desires of the Eldar... that insatiable thirst for thrills...

But for the gods, for those chimeras of vast concepts mixed together, is there really a hope in this world that the gods cannot fulfill?

The pursuit of perfection drives Him, but everything is just a game at hand. The most primal stimulation comes from the biological fear of paying the price—the difference between a high-stakes gamble and a street game is simply the difference in the stakes.

The more chips piled up on the table, the more pleasurable the pain became, accompanied by the sweet dopamine rush.

Endlessly betting one's chips—money…body…life…layer upon layer of betting brings excruciating pain, and the frenzied joy of victory.

The gods who govern excitement and pleasure are no strangers to this; they have lured innocent souls into this path countless times, enjoying the twisted and painful pleasure within their souls.

...But for Him...did He ever experience that second before falling into the abyss?