How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 181 Don't Panic
The flow of fate changed again.

The Lord of Changes in the Crystal Palace was laughing wildly because of this.His laughter was wanton and crazy, tearing apart the surrounding space without any scruples, even if this was his own domain, his own palace.He has been like this for a long time: time in the warp is always difficult to measure, but this realm has been recast nine times in the wild laughter of the Lord God, and Tzeentch is obviously still not ready to stop.

Although Tzeentch cannot explore every possibility of the future in this universe - he is the Lord of all changes, always chasing unpredictable changes, and "omniscience" means "every change can be predicted" ” This is contrary to His nature.But now, the flow of destiny is changing frequently under circumstances that He himself cannot control, cannot predict, and is almost unable to interfere.

The introduction of slight variables makes the future of the entire universe unclear.The future has always been fickle, but to be so fickle is a literal "first time in the world" for this great power of chaos.Not far away from him, both of Carlos's heads looked haggard, and the feathers that were not so bright were even more gray than ever before.Obviously, in a short period of time, He tried many times at the request of His master to glimpse the "future" that even His eyesight could not touch, and He had overextended His own strength.

The Lord of Changes does not care about these trivial matters, but continues to rely on his superb magic to select the fragments he needs from the chaotic future running in the subspace, and to deduce the issues he currently wants to know. Trying to find an opportunity that would allow Him to intervene and steer the fate of a grain of sand in the real universe in the direction He likes.This is difficult. There is another existence that is hindering Him all the time. It may take a long time to decide the outcome with the opponent, but it doesn't matter. The Lord of Changes does not lack time.

There is a connection between everything. He only needs to pluck a string in an inconspicuous position. As time goes by, this subtle vibration will be transmitted along with the trajectory of fate, between things and things, people and people, Things are constantly flowing between things, accumulating energy as they go, until finally a magnificent wave is set off——

But when will this wave finally hit the shore?Even Tzeentch himself, who planned all this, couldn't explain clearly.What should ordinary mortals do to avoid such a disaster that originates in a place where no existence is aware of it?
The crazy laughter in the Crystal Demonic Palace has not stopped, but the Lord of Changes has made a decision.

He must see his other brothers, and he can't wait for this: if there can be another chess player on the side of the chessboard, then it will be the best thing for them.
-
Believers who serve the God of War walk slowly in the sea of ​​blood.

His name is not important, his appearance is not important, his past is not important, and his achievements are not important.He was just a scarred mortal, walking slowly in this battlefield composed of the bodies of the dead and the blood flowing out of the bodies, and he was the only living person among them.

Therefore, he was allowed to advance in such a decadent, miserable and unworthy way: all the enemies around him had fallen, and the bloody souls of the cowards and losers had floated into the subspace, becoming him - the only survivor here. The winner, and therefore the only winner, offered his life sacrifice to the God of War.

But the person involved himself was unaware of this.

It doesn't matter whether his means of victory are aboveboard, honorable or fair.The important thing is that he is the only one here who can still breathe.This should have been enough to prove his status as a winner, but precisely because he was a worshiper of the God of War, he was still frightened and did not dare to enjoy the rest after victory: What will our Lord think of this victory?I have never faced any powerful enemy head-on, I just managed to survive on the battlefield, and was finally lucky enough to be the last survivor - will my Lord agree that this is a victory?

He does not understand writing, and he is unlikely to have any intellectual attainments. His worship of the Lord of Blood and the Lord of Skulls is just due to circumstances: his tribe believes in this great power of chaos, and he has lived among these people since he was a child. He naturally became a believer.In his panic, he wanted to ask the wizards in the tribe this question, even if it cost him two sticks on the head, it was worth it.But then, he found the person he was looking for among the piles of corpses: holding an iron sword with obsidian inlaid on the hilt and a broken blade, with a ferocious face and split eyes. , fell on his back to the ground, and his body from the waist down was missing.

There was no doubt that the wizard was dead.

The level of civilization here is not high. Under the glory of the God of War, the creatures living on this planet have devoted all the resources they can find into endless and meaningless wars, and humans are no exception.This is a very common thing on planets sunk in subspace.The only survivor on the battlefield therefore did not receive any education other than the use of weapons and fighting - he was still very young, so he did not know what to do for a while, and fell into a daze.

He stood stupidly in front of the wizard's body for a while, and then realized that continuing like this was not the way to go.He needed to do something to appease his anxious mind so that he could enjoy the happiness of the rest of his life with peace of mind.After thinking for a while, he chose to snatch the half of the iron sword from the long-dead wizard and began to try to find a way out on his own:
Newborn calves are not afraid of tigers, those who do not know are fearless, or any similar motto can be used here.In short, this lucky young man with no decent education decided to perform his own sacrifice to the god he and his tribe served, asking directly from the god himself whether such a "victory" could be achieved. is recognized.

He certainly didn't know how to accomplish something similar, or what the price would be to accomplish something similar.He just remembered that he had seen wizards in the tribe do similar things, and decided to copy them based on the thin impression in his memory.He took the broken iron sword and patrolled the battlefield with purpose again. This time, he wanted to collect the heads of the warriors.The warriors in the tribe always wear more decorations on their bodies and heads. This is also the goal he has fought for.He had worried about whether he could please his god by offering such heads as sacrifices that he had not killed, but when he began to try to cut off these people's heads with a broken sword, this thought disappeared from his heart. Traces disappeared: there was no other reason, just that the matter of "cutting off other people's heads" was much more difficult than he originally thought.

He knew that the number of the gods he served was eight, but he had just barely survived a fierce battle, and he really didn't have that much physical energy to consume.He only cut off the heads of four warriors, and the workload already made him panting.It is very unqualified for a believer. At this moment, boredom took over because of excessive exhaustion. The only survivor in this war gave up on himself and thought: That's it.And decided to use only these four heads as ritual sacrifices to fulfill his wish.

He shouldn't have been able to do it.The sacred numbers are wrong, the sacrifices are wrong, the altar is wrong, the prayers are wrong, and the prayers are wrong.This sacrificial ceremony was wrong from start to finish, and it should have attracted nothing - even if someone would pay attention to him for it, all he would get in the end would be the wrath of Khorne.But when he piled his only four heads into a tower shape on a small temporary earthen platform, and knelt down in front of the simple altar, preparing to pray, there was something that did not originally exist in his mind. The words in it came out smoothly through his mouth and tongue:
"Here I beg you, the great God of War, to cast his gaze upon you. Lord of all warriors in heaven and earth, patron of honor and justice, Necoc Yaotl, enemy of all quarters, Titlacauan, servitor of us, night and wind. symbol of……"

He murmured mechanically and blankly, and picked up the broken sword inlaid with obsidian with dull eyes. Under the empty gazes of the four heads, he spoke in a way that he could not have owned and could not use here. With his skillful skills, he used the cut-off sword as a short knife and pierced his chest, cutting out his heart from the gurgling blood.

——Something did respond to him, something controlled him, something came here in a non-material form, lingering on the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood.

The dusty battlefield was covered with clouds, as if heavy rain was about to fall.As if attracted by some invisible force, the bones, flesh and blood here slowly floated up from the ground, rolling like a whirlpool under the shadow, unreasonably compressed to a point, tightly Then, a man's figure slowly descended from it.

"How interesting." Tezcatlipoca, the Almighty God who once again had a form similar to humans and was able to walk in the material universe, sneered and complained, "Did that blue-haired mollusk eat something wrong?" Yao, actually choose to help me?"

Gray smoke surged around him, and the originally naked man walked leisurely towards the "altar".Before he knew it, he had the right clothes on him; and before he knew it, he had a cigarette between his fingers.In this way, while smoking, he walked to the "sacrifice" who, under the influence of Tzeentch, had summoned him here with a clumsy ritual.

The "winner" who survived this war to the end was a boy who looked to be less than 15 years old, but at this point, it was meaningless to say anything.The young man just sat on his knees, lowered his head, and held up his heart with his hands.The corpse said nothing, but its attitude was as if it was a tribute.

Tezcatlipoca sneered, took the heart from the boy's hand that he had involuntarily offered in ignorance, and stuffed it back into the boy's chest.

"What the hell?" He complained, carrying the smoke, and left the planet.

　Miwu (no more)

　　Guda will be offline for a long time, send it!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)