"Reality has proven once again that most people are wrong, and my truth is based on theirs."

"The Hungry Lady is walking the galactic lands, but the blind fools are turning a blind eye to it, my colleagues, who do not see how much favor the Eternal Enemy has poured on this human, which is enough to eclipse all the Pleasure Demon Army."

"My colleagues, my companions, and my men, they think my words are just nonsense, gossip, but they couldn't be more wrong: the darling of the Lord of Pleasure is walking on the galactic skyline, and if we continue to turn a deaf ear to it, one day all the arks will be reduced to the tombs of our race in the second scream, and all the people of Asoyan will be cast into eternal distortion and become vessels for the hungry and thirsty He to soothe his darling."

"The future is dark, but not without its prospects: by crossing the world's most dangerous rapids, I have seen the only glimmer of hope: and my mission is to hold it in my hands."

"I will take this as my mission, I will take this as my watch, I will forge ahead from now on, I will do whatever it takes, even if I will give the most distorted decisions and orders, even if I will commit the most terrible atrocities and betrayals, I will never stop."

"For this is my destiny: I have seen it, I have seen my death full of glory and redemption, and I will be the finale of all things, saving my race."

"The first step is to make them aware of the seriousness of the problem."

"All the sons of Asoyan must be well aware that this silver-haired human, this monster known as the Genetic Prototype, is clothed in the deepest grace of the heart of the Hungry Lady, and is a natural enemy that we absolutely cannot confront head-on."

"She's not the Hungry Lady's chosen one, nor his military commander, nor his worthless demons, demon princes, or any other lofty and vain titles."

"She's so much higher than that."

"She reigns above all the beings of the palace of pleasure, her smile is enough to judge the life and death of any keeper of secrets, I see, I see the twisted and blasphemous scene: in the deepest madness of the silver palace, in the high position on the right hand side of the hungry god, waiting for a noble blood girl, waiting for an indifferent tea guest, waiting for a pair of dark eyes to share pleasure with the prince of darkness, waiting for the daughter of the lady, for her partner, for the beloved."

"Waiting for her, waiting: Morgan."

"Remember this name, and she will influence the fate of the galaxy, and she will arbitrate our empire."

Aidarad, the supreme prophet of the Ark World's Uth, carved into his staff

——————

When the High Prophet of the Ark World, Aidalad, witnessed the last Comoros catastrophe crashing to the ground, and let his body be dragged into the subdimensional space that had been prepared in advance.

Failure did not make him disappointed, he had predicted this a long time ago, just like the subdimensional space where he was hiding at this time, everything was predicted and prepared in advance, everything was just the first ray of fire that ignited thousands of stars.

He wasn't anxious, he wasn't lost, he wasn't ashamed, and even though his people were being slaughtered by humans in the corner as far as his eyes could see, Aidarad knew that this was their fate, and that sooner or later each of them would have such a day, but sooner or later.

Since these Comoroan people have been wantonly slaughtering, plundering, and torturing countless lower races in the galaxy for thousands of years, and have not been on the right path to stop this thirst-quenching behavior, their fate, while not pleasing to Aidalad, will not give him more psychological baggage: even though he is the direct driver of the scene before him.

……

Perhaps it was this indifference and ruthlessness towards each other, or perhaps it was the absolute egotism brought about by this long degeneration, that led to the eventual disintegration of their former empires.

At the moment of stepping into the subdimension, the Supreme Prophet could not help but think of this, and in order to smile in the midst of suffering.

But soon, even this wry smile was shattered by an unexpected visitor.

"Lies, betrayal, self-deception."

"After so many years, you still don't change your nature, and you haven't made any progress."

The hissing of the cold metal grinding sound pierced the peace in Aidarad's ears, and the Supreme Prophet realized that there seemed to be a guest in his private space who did not have any reservations.

He turned his head and saw only a cold metal body, glowing with a faint green light from top to bottom, and although the hard face made it impossible for anyone to form any expression, a kind of irony still jumped on the page.

The Supreme Prophet recognized him: no matter what ancient civilization he was, the names of those in front of him were thunderous: nothing more than notoriety.

"How did you get into my space, Lord Tarasin?"

"You know, young junior, I'm Tarasin, and what I'm best at is being a guest anywhere, and your little defense is not on the table."

A smile flashed across Aidalad's mouth, he had never expected this answer, and he had never been more wary of the space necromancer slowly approaching in front of him: the battle between them would not be at this time, and the rust and defenselessness on Tarasin's body also showed that this was nothing more than an unlucky bait that he had snatched from him.

The Prophet took off his helmet and slashed the last of the Oghur beasts out of the corner of his eye, as the extraordinarily tall Astarte warrior grabbed the upper and lower jaws, and then tore the entire head in half, accompanied by the triumphant cheers of the human army.

Everything that happened inside and outside of the Yemenga megalith was clearly projected into the subdimensional space, and the two notorious men of their respective races did not speak immediately, they kept a safe distance, and watched in silence the end of this absurd drama.

They saw the forces of the Dark Elves crumbling under the constant blows, and some of the weaklings panicked and tried to escape back to the passage where they came, but they encountered a wall of the Dawnbreaker that could never be crossed, and the battle that had been evenly matched ten minutes ago turned into a bloody slaughter with the accumulation of countless factors.

The people of the Comoros, who were crazy enough, brave enough and resourceful enough, quickly chose a different path, and they launched a desperate and terrible charge towards the last line of the Daybreaker, because behind that line there was not only a room to temporarily trap the genetic protogen, but also a hidden door to the net.

They were close to succeeding: if it weren't for the last moment, the silver-haired and blue-eyed lady stepped into the children's arena like a mad giant with a terrible rage that would make the world tremble.

Although he had witnessed similar scenes countless times in the long river of fate, when the bloody shadow first met Aidarad's eyes, he could still feel the tremors all over his body: this tremor was not fear and consternation, but a kind of despair from the blood, like a lop-eared hare looking directly at a hungry tiger close at hand, and at the first moment of seeing the genetic prototype, Aidarad felt that he had completely lost hope of continuing to survive, and chose death in vain.

Just like those Comoros in front of him, who are in another dimension: at the first sight of the original genome, all the dark spirits lost the courage to fight, and even lost the fear of running away, whether it was those witches and ruling succubi who had performed the bloody art for thousands of years, or Queen Lilith herself, who ruled the sect of strife, all the atrocities and desires melted like ice and snow at this moment, and swept the souls of all of them with the emotionless blue pupils of the original genogen, They have given up their resolve to resist.

Lilith was the first to fall, the queen of the Sect of Discord was arguably one of the most powerful of the Dark Elves, but when she fell into eternal consternation, she could not use even a tenth of her strength, and was easily clenched by the original genogen, becoming a beautiful and dying body, losing all pride and strength, and becoming a pathetic captive at Morgan's feet.

And when the fate of the strongest of them was so clearly revealed, all the succubi and witches, whether they were legends who had fought for thousands of years, or the gifted bride of Kane, lost the courage to fight in this instant.

The bad roots of the Comoros were finally revealed at this moment: when the dark spirits faced the threat of death, they faced the incarnation they feared, there was no longer the so-called proud, cruel and orthodox heir demeanor, and all the people of the Comoros showed their original pathetic colors at this moment: a group of cowards who were greedy for life and afraid of death, a group of pathetic people who put their lives above everything in the world.

All the dark spirits, who had abandoned their courage and convictions, their art and grace in an instant, had left their opponents aside, scrambling to run to the entrance gate of the net, and no one wanted to stay in front of this terrible opponent for even a second.

But at this moment, such a remedy was still too late: none of the hundreds of the most elite Eldar killers finally reached the door a hundred meters away alive, because their souls had already been clutched by Morgan when their bodies first appeared in the pupils of the original genome, and the so-called escape was nothing more than the aftermath of a group of pale flesh in an irrational situation.

The pale lady did not rest on her laurels, her anger burned with the wail of the palm soul, and the smiling dawnbreakers immediately saw with some concern that their genetic protogenes began to emit a chilling smile, and her pupils were once again ablaze with the squandering of psionic energy, but not the pure white fire they were accustomed to, and a very light but stubborn purple.

Unrecognizable words came out of Morgan's mouth, word by word, a terrible wail that had not been activated since the war in Zandan, and with a low shrill laugh in the strange cold wind, all the dawnbreakers could feel as if countless sharp claws brushed past their ears, piercing the panicked Comoroan Assassins in the blink of an eye.

One, two, three......

100, 200, 300......

When all the Dawnbreakers could catch that eerie chuckle in their ears, they saw the end of their opponents: an invisible wave that swept through the bloody purgatory in an instant, wrapped around the necks and ankles of the dark spirits, pierced their brains, sliced their souls in agonizing wails, and then was carelessly pulled out of their living bodies and wills, leaving scattered lives to die in the cold wind.

Even the bravest Astarte warriors watched with awe, and the beasts that had been slaughtering with the sons of Morgan before had now gathered their claws, no longer roaring and running, but trembling their abominable bodies, crouching in the direction of the original genome, burying their heads with their forelimbs, whimpering like beaten wild dogs, until they were struck by the Dawnbreakers who reacted, and did not continue to resist.

Hector carelessly stabbed to death the last Aether Hound at his feet, the unprecedentedly strong Astarte warrior was simply a natural nemesis of these monsters, but all his attention was now focused on something else: right in front of him, not far away, an incomparably astute dark spirit, who had even touched the door of the net, but was still mercilessly dragged by the ankles, and then suffered torture in a dimension that the Dawnbreakers could not see, Only the screams that resounded across the wasteland were the only traces of this torture and atrocity.

Listening to the poignant sound that was as if he had experienced the end of the world, and feeling the awe-inspiring sound of the invisible sea, Hecht's eyes once again fell on the dark spirits who fell like rotten flesh, and even a trace of absolutely wrong pity flashed in his heart.

And after the mercy is a mountain of awe, and the object of that awe is the center of the storm at this moment: his great genetic body, the one he deserves and should be feared the most.

For some reason, Hector had even forgotten that he needed to revere his genetic protoplasm before that, and that his mother seemed to him to represent more of a love and light than a statue worthy of worship.

But at this moment, Hector realized that he had made a big mistake: how could he not be in awe of the genetic protogen, how could he forget his surrender to the genetic mother under the light of almost grace.

It's unforgivable.

The commander of the twenty-third company took a deep breath of bloody air, and then, like every fighting brother around him, cast his gaze in awe on the invisible interior of the monument, on their great genetic mother: they witnessed her wrath, and were willingly proud of it.

But unlike his brothers, there was the slightest furrow at the edge of Hecht's thick eyebrows: perhaps for some kind of delusion, the proud son of Morgan always felt that the anger of his genetic mother was not alone in her at this moment.

——————

"I don't know what you're trying to do, pathetic spirits, but you should have succeeded."

The Lord of Solenamus watched the bloody slaughter of the people of Comoros with relish, and he even wanted to applaud, regretting that he had not brought any filming equipment with him: these most despicable scum had destroyed many treasures worth collecting in countless epochs of the past, they did not know the value of art and history, and the tragedy of the present day was only a small compensation for their atrocities.

And even without that, the relationship between the fear of the dead and the spirits was enough to make Tarasin mock Aidarad to the extreme, even though he didn't care about these old things for a long time.

"It's just that I'm curious: whatever you want to do, isn't that too much to pay, and look at the poor creatures lying on the ground: the Scourge, the Nightmare, the Succubus Dominator and the Beast Tamer, and a dozen warplanes and three dozen airships."

"More than a thousand elites, not even the most basic infantry, all of them are the backbone elite of the Comoros, all of them are true children, and then the whole army is wiped out: a deception like this is enough to make you hated by all the dark spirits for life."

"It's just a necessary sacrifice, and it's their doomed fate."

The supreme prophet of Uth was holding his staff in embarrassment, and drops of sweat were crackling down from his forehead like heavy raindrops, but it was commendable that when the leader of the Ark Spirit finally adjusted his breath, mustered up his courage, and looked at the genetic prototype again, his pupils already exuded a precious emotion that was difficult for any Comoros to understand, which allowed him to overcome his almost instinctive fear, slowly straighten his waist, and return to normal.

Seeing this, even Tarasin couldn't help but glance at this junior: it is never easy to defeat instinct, at least the original fear of death did not do it.

"So, would you like to tell me about your plans?"

"No comment."

Aidalad took his last breath slowly, and he looked at the Necromantic Overlord and frowned unabashedly.

"Rather, you might as well explain: Maybe you can explain to me why you're here?"

The question caused a feigned consternation to shoot out of Tarasin's vocal apparatus, as if it were the most blunt irony.

"Why am I here?"

"This is the edge of the Sotek dynasty, home to the most famous libraries and monuments in the eastern part of the Dreadnought Empire, one of the former centers of galactic culture, and now, you ask me why I'm here?"

"I guess I'm asking you, Spirit Clan, what did I see just a few days ago when I came to this world again, preparing another plan of mine?"

"Spirits! Thousands of spirits! Occupy this sacred temple of knowledge, and place your sordid traps and heretical techniques on this sleeping treasure house: you should be glad that this is not a sleeping world, and that there is no army of the Dead, otherwise I would be talking to your corpse right now. ”

Looking at the [righteous indignation] of the space necromantic overlord, Aidarad, who had long heard of Tarasin's reputation, only hooked the corners of his lips, as if he had ignored the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood in front of him.

"Yes, the territory of the Sotek dynasty, so what is the overlord of the Neshirak dynasty doing here? The attitude of the master here towards me is no worse than that towards you. ”

"I'm just a guest, who says you can't visit a house when the host isn't there?"

The Supreme Prophet replied with a disdainful silence, but he quickly reacted to something else that made his brow furrow.

"Wait, those traps that didn't have time to activate in time, or those traps that were obviously too vulnerable, must have been what you did the other day?"

"Is there any reason for me to sit back and watch them trap these humans, and then let your filthy people hover in front of my eyes for longer, or even take the opportunity to escape one or two?"

"I'm standing here alone, and I don't bring a large army, and that's enough for you to rejoice."

"Don't be in that place, you deceased."

A scornful smile flashed across Aidarad's face.

"You think I haven't breached the tombs of your kind - oh, of course, my experience is far from being comparable to yours, but even then I know very well that it will take at least half a century to awaken a sleeping necromantic dynasty in space as quickly as possible in these human worlds: where did you get the time?"

"I'm curious about another thing than that: what are you doing here? Is it still for the so-called cultural relics protection operation, then it is really unfortunate. ”

"It has nothing to do with that."

The Lord of Solenamus grimaced his face as he looked at the genoplasm that lingered in purple light.

"It's about her."

“…… It looks like we have the same interests, Necrons. ”

"Don't be pretentious here, Eldar, you've ruined my plans, and if you're wise enough to help you before, I'll think about helping you now."

"Why should I help you?"

"Then why should I help you again?"

"Our targets are all the human genoplasms, and your destruction will only serve her good."

"Could it be that your victory will work in my favor?"

"If you're obsessed with this, Necromancy, then it's only going to drag us down at the same time, we can agree on the issue of the protogen, you should be a little bit of a big picture, my victory is better than our mutual defeat."

"No, your victory will make me sick more than my defeat."

"Don't be so short-sighted, if you don't want to be popular, then please don't interfere."

"For me, it is a kind of help to sit back and watch your victory: why should I help you?"

"Then why should I help you again?"

"Then we have an agreement: a three-way war."

"There is no need for this, necromancy, this will only lead to our common defeat."

"Wonderful: your defeat is enough to soothe the damage that defeat has done to me, and I would rather see that human genoplasm continue to roam the real universe than see a spirit triumph in front of me."

Aidarad gritted his teeth.

"What have I done to make you hate me so much?"

He was answered with a sneer.

"Don't joke here, if it weren't for you guys, I would have transformed this place into a perfect temple of misdirection, your presence interfered with my plans, and she ended up seeing more than I thought."

"Does that make you miserable: if it were, I'd be happier, Necromancy."

Hearing this, Tarasin turned his head, his breath colder than his metal body.

"That's going to disappoint you: a museum that's just a public place, there's nothing important in it, and my plan is just being dragged down by you, and it's still going on in an orderly way."

"Then again, if a setback can allow me to watch such a wonderful Spirit Death Ceremony, it would be a good deal, and how many of your people are still going to sacrifice to carry out your plan, please invite me to record it."

"I even have a name in mind: "Aidarad, the second most elven killer in the world"

"Work hard, Spirit Clan, it's not impossible for you to reach the top of the list."

"You can't provoke me, Necromancy, I know what I'm doing: every dark spirit who dies has only suffered their fate, and sooner or later they will die at the hands of this terrible evil god's darling, and I've only temporarily changed the chronological sequence so that something more correct can be born."

"Only the dumbest of individuals play with the power of time: with you, I already happen to know two, and you're always refreshing my perception of the brain and shame."

"How can you recognize those two things: you shouldn't have them."

"It's better to have nothing than to cherish nothing."

The Necromantic Overlord ended the argument with a phrase and a soft snort, and once again fell into a deathly silence, and saw a rather strange phenomenon in the body of the progenitor, which made him a little uneasy.

“……”

"Alright, Eldar, talk to me."

"What exactly is your purpose?"

"Why am I telling you?"

"I'm not good at helping people, Eldar, but I'm good at making everyone angry."

"Do you want to do it yourself? I wouldn't mind letting one of my doppelgangers take a vacation in some beautiful ark world, maybe they'd be unfortunate enough to get too close to a star? ”

“……”

Aidarad put on his helmet, his emotions hidden under the armor as black as the night, and even the overlord of the space necromancer couldn't quickly see it.

"Well, let me tell you, necromancy."

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm turning the curve of fate."

"Sounds stupid."

"Yes, but it's better than what you've done."

Tarasin was silent, lifeless.

"And then?"

"And then ......"

"Then, I'm also making a series of observations to lay the groundwork for every step of my action, to do a good job of intelligence, and to gather one of the most important pieces of information."

"That lady, how close is it to this human genetic proto."

"Do you see that?"

"Awful."

Aidarad turned his head, his gaze focused on Morgan's palm, the dying Queen of the Discord Sect: Aidarad could empathize with why the most powerful of his kindred had lost their proud fighting power at that moment.

Because, too, he saw it.

He saw that above the silent spectacle of the space necromancy, in the midst of the storm of rage and extremity, in the middle of the endless sea, where only the greatest psionics could barely stand, a supreme blasphemous being was drawn.

No, the word attraction is not very accurate, it should be said that just a wisp of anger and madness from the genetic prototype reveals Him.

Aidarad saw, he saw the hungry lady, the indelible nightmare of all the Asoyan people, the slaughterer and devourer of the elven gods, the smiling, laughing, laughing, twisted gods.

He was by Morgan's side, He was in front of Morgan, and when the Spider Queen's pupils flashed the first purple light because of anger, all the spirits could clearly see that scene, and they could all find out in despair:

The will of the lady is in front of them.

It was the gaze of His deity, the epitome of Her great power.

He held up a finger and whispered to blame these rude people for disturbing His beloved daughter: as the slightest punishment, their souls were rightfully torn to shreds, and in an instant they had experienced all the punishments they had inflicted on others in their lives, before they were gathered into a painful feast that was slowly presented to the genotype.

Aidarad saw the scene.

And all he could do was close his eyes, and at that moment, all the despair and heaviness were exhaled with a slow turbidity.

The situation was worse than he had imagined.

The lady was not looking at her daughter at all.

But......

He never left.

——————

The emperor hated her.

He never expected anything from her.

There has never been mercy, affection, redemption, reparation, even the most cold of all......

Never has been, and never will be, his empire and territory are so cold and unforgiving, and there is not the slightest room for a failed work.

Yes, that's it.

Admit it, that's the reality.

There was no place for her in the Emperor's future, her hopes were in another, greater palace of carefree, and her glory was in another place where she was literally within reach, she ......

"Your Excellency."

The call of worry seemed to be accompanied by a flash of icy light, briefly calling the Lord of the Second Legion out of the lilac whisper.

Rana had undergone the most urgent treatment, which allowed him to stand in front of the Primordial, and while all the Daybreakers had fallen into a kind of worship of the Primordial, the Chief Old Guard had not forgotten his mission.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward and interrupted the bow of the Mother of Genes.

"The casualties are out."

[Read. 】

"Of the 349 killed, 26 were seriously wounded and required to undergo the Fearless Sleep Ritual, and hundreds of others with moderate and minor injuries will soon recover and continue their mission."

【……】

[That is, in less than twenty-five minutes, my legion has already lost one percent of its strength?] 】

"Your genetic seed gives us hope of survival, my lord, because of the benign mutation brought about by your genetic protogen, more than 200 soldiers who should have been killed or seriously wounded were able to survive until the arrival of medical treatment, which greatly reduced our casualty rate."

Morgan didn't answer Lana's debriefing, she just continued her silence, fending off the whisper that came to her mind again in an inexplicable uneasiness.

The whisper was neither the madness of the destroying powers of the past, nor the coldness of the Lord of Humanity, it was a long-lost greeting, a gentle embrace, a soft comfort, a gentle mother standing behind her, frowning, with a distressed gesture of longing to soothe the waves in the heart of the genetic protoplasm because of the unprecedented number of casualties.

He was close to her ear, pouring out sympathy and longing to her, promising her promises and vengeance, mocking the coldness of the Emperor with irreversible words, mocking the Emperor's gifts, and not hesitating to make the greatest promise to the Genotype.

She will be the queen of the galaxy, she will be the lord of pleasure, she will be the second great person to whom all the great armies that hold the banner of Slaanesh will be allegiated, she will not be his slave, she will not be his projection, she will be the most unique and noble being in his palace, enjoying the great privilege of sharing the table with the gods in the midst of endless blasphemy and taboos.

All this is true, it is all easy, she will never grieve over the pain of her soul again, the Lord of Pleasure will soothe her misfortune with his own hands, and ensure that her soul will not become a walking dead after all dooms, like other wretched princes.

This is the greatest honor, this is the heaviest spoiling, which does not even require any effort and struggle, without the slightest effort and battle: because love is without reason, because she is a happy beloved daughter.

Just agree, just surrender, just a silent nod, a slight curt.

Just in this way, she can get so much, she can enjoy endless eternity, she can ......

……

"Whew!"

……

In the dark, it was the light of a ruthless flame.

……

……

……

[Enough. 】

Lana looked up, and he was the only one who could hear the words from the protogen, but he couldn't imagine who this almost self-talking babble was talking to.

But soon, the original body was in action.

Morgan looked up, the last of her stubborn golden flashes in her pupils.

[Gather the team, Lana, let's go back to the battleship, enough has happened in this world, I don't want to come near here anytime soon.] 】

"You...... What's the matter? ”

[It's okay, I'm fine, at least for now, but not necessarily the next moment, my child, so let's get out of here quickly and go and join my father.] 】

“…… The Emperor? ”

[Yes, Emperor, my father. 】

The Progenitor laughed, and Rana could see a lot of things in that smile, a lot of things he didn't think would be in the Progeno.

Tired, flustered, dazed......

And fear.

"Are you really alright, sir?"

[If you ask again, maybe something will happen to me.] 】

“……”

"Understood, sir."

[If you understand, then hurry up and act, Lana, and escort this red-haired alien to the battleship by the way.] 】

Let us hurry up and set out to meet my dear Father. 】

[I have a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot of words, and I want to talk to him about it.] 】

"Are you nostalgic for the Emperor?"

[Of course, my child. 】

I can confidently tell you that there could not be a more filial daughter in my great chaotic family than mine. 】

(End of chapter)