The Emperor’s Angel of Death

What was an easy task for the Enslavers is a bit of a cheat for the Daemons; it seems the laws of physics and the Warp don't have much effect on them.

And the key point is that Enslavers don't share their "achievements" with other Warp entities. After enslaving a psychic creature, the Enslaver turns them into a gateway—a gateway between the real world and the Enslaver's illusory threshold realm. Their will and flesh are torn into a rift leading to the immaterial realm. Three Enslavers will unite to form a psychic nexus, transforming the rift into a special and extremely stable Warp gate, allowing more Enslavers to freely pour into the real world from the dying bodies of the psychics they control. This is the rare Enslaver plague. During this process, the Warp gate used by the Enslavers is inaccessible to Daemons. Some Daemons have tried to use the channels created by the Enslavers, but the outcome is usually terrible, resulting in complete annihilation, especially when hundreds or thousands of Enslavers gather together. Even the most powerful Greater Daemons have to detour.

This is just the strength of ordinary Enslavers, which shows what the legendary Great Enslavers are.

But for some reason, they all disappeared. For the Warp, which has no concept of time, "disappearance" is a difficult operation, making it hard not to associate it with the destructive powers.

But even Amnak, the former chief of Slaanesh, finds these secrets hard to know. Perhaps the truth about the disappearance of the Great Enslavers can only be found in the deepest part of the Crystal Labyrinth.

But unexpectedly, there is one here.

GOOGLE搜索TWKAN

Faced with such a terrifying existence, Amnak doesn't seem flustered. The power of the Enslavers can control almost everything, but they definitely have no way to deal with the Star Gods, let alone the Outsider, who is almost the strongest Star God. Amnak can now be said to be the Outsider's "Greater Daemon." Even if he dies, only his body will be destroyed, and his consciousness will return to Sorkhayn's ring.

But as a last resort, he doesn't want to give up this body he has become accustomed to.

"Ancient Great Enslaver, you will gain nothing by devouring me, and my sword will harm you. You are imprisoned here by the Necrons, and I am imprisoned here by them. We have a common interest—to escape together."

The Great Enslaver stares at this tiny being, dozens of eyes flashing with black-green lightning.

Then, a chuckling laugh rings out.

"A weak puppet."

As the Great Enslaver speaks, Amnak can feel its invisible psychic tendrils touching him, as if savoring him.

This is the most terrifying aspect of the primal predators. They don't have any exaggerated and gorgeous methods, but they have the most primitive and secretive fangs.

"But... you are special. I smell the twisted material force of the current world."

After a moment, it lets out a smooth laugh.

"But that doesn't mean you are qualified to negotiate terms with the great Fa'N'Hai'En'Svano'Zaka."

The Great Enslaver's name is more like a spell than a name. Amnak doesn't try to remember it, even erasing it directly from his mind, because he knows that just trying to remember it will leave a psychic mark.

"This is not discussing terms. I just want to offer you a suggestion, a suggestion that benefits both parties."

"Weak puppet, restrain your delusions."

The Great Enslaver's breath is like the most chaotic storm in the Warp.

"If it were so easy to escape from here, I would not be trapped here. I once made them flee into the shadows, but still fell into their trap. This cage transcends space, its time is constantly in a staggered tremor, sometimes moving forward, sometimes flowing backward, forever elusive, impossible to crack. Moreover, my power has been weakened by hunger."

Slowly, the Great Enslaver raises its mental claws, reaching towards Amnak.

Just as it is about to touch Amnak, he feels fear surging through his body for the first time. He seems to see his throat being cut open, blood spurting out, and then being devoured alive.

Considering his current characteristics, he realizes how terrifying the Great Enslaver is. If this thing goes to the mortal world, I'm afraid only Sorkhayn can control it. Those so-called Primarchs are not good enough.

Suddenly, the sword in front of Amnak is picked up, followed by the sound of collision.

Three swords, like lightning and light. The Great Enslaver roars, as if chewing the air frantically, saliva dripping.

In the blink of an eye, the Scimitar of Shar-Nabal falls again, inserting into the fine white sand.

An endless beach stretches out before him, the sky filled with celestial chants, echoing the sound of the waves like the most beautiful lullaby, enough to shatter the most solid walls of thought.

Gentle waves lap, as if the embodiment of weariness. Amnak is very familiar with this. Anyone who dares to nap here will fall into the quagmire of laziness and pleasure, their remains forming the bone-white sand on the beach.

At some point, he realizes this is an illusion.

However, he immediately realizes that for that former master, the limitations of space and time may not be useful. Perhaps She has been waiting for this moment for a long time.

When he suddenly hears footsteps behind him, Amnak turns his head and finds a Daemonette wearing light纱, with a charming figure but strange three-legged, four-armed, walking towards him.

"Tehoti?"

"I told you last time, your eternal punishment will surely come."

Slaanesh's Dark Consort giggles, suddenly appearing beside Amnak, the weapon transformed from her arm stabbing towards him.

Amnak glances out of the corner of his eye and sees that it is a sword, very long, with a wavy edge, shaped like a poisonous snake's tongue.

She is very fast, or his speed has slowed down. He can't even dodge, only watching helplessly as the tip of the dagger cuts across his flank, pain surging through his body.

His blood spills on the white sand, stirring up a smell of burnt sugar and hot iron.

Amnak says nothing, his long sword slashing back at her, but she easily bypasses the tip of the sword and jumps off the ground. Amnak follows closely behind, his sword catching her.

The two turn into a chase, their weapons constantly rolling and crisscrossing. The cloth on Tehoti's body is torn by the sword wind, and the torn skin below is rolled into a bloody flag, but she doesn't care. Even her rolled skin and entangled purple silk form grinning faces, her body radiating heat, surrounded by steam, but she spins like a dance, wielding the sword to stab Amnak again.

Amnak dodges one strike, two strikes, three strikes, but each of her attacks is as swift as a whirlwind.

Moreover, the pain from his flank burns fiercely in his body, and the taste of dust and ashes fills his throat. He seems to hear the soft call of his former master.

More updates tomorrow, requesting monthly votes~