He is coming.

That thing, He's coming.

Likavis' slender throat let out a suffocating hiss, and it felt the three hearts in its chest tremble from this terrible catastrophe, but in the next second, it was clenched by an inexplicable force, turning into a pool of near-nothing.

It's fearing, it's suffocating, it's really feeling something it hasn't felt in all its long years: the mere thought is enough to make it angry, to make it roar, like the false courage of a beast when it is seriously wounded.

The six claws that encircled its slender torso flew in unison with the roar, grabbing at the haphazard attack in mid-air, roaring wildly, fearing not to look at the edge of the galaxy far away, but always wanting to observe the footsteps of destruction again.

It shrank and twitched, and gave vent to its inner tremor in its self-deceptive rage, its spider-like arthropod-like claws drawing twisted marks on the flesh walls, grabbing at the willless slaves at its feet, and opening their brains, ignoring its usual pretentious cultivation, its mouthparts made of tentacles and sharp teeth were stuffed directly into the crack, and it gulped down the scattered brains until it shoved the head into it.

One by one, and one by one, it violently overturned the restaurant that it had carefully built over the past long years, and every decorative line here that had consumed generations of human slaves had consumed years, but now, like a hungry livestock, like a madman in a panic, the mighty psionic species frantically destroying its cherished temple, and the food that had been carefully stored was torn to pieces meaninglessly, until dozens of unresisting lives turned into rivers of blood, Nor did it ease the trembling of the slave owner.

He is coming.

It's all over.

Likavis roared, wept, and trembled, and it took him for an unknown amount of time to tear apart everything in front of him, until his spirit returned to his body and dragged it back from its beastly state, and it suddenly realized that the real it was curled up, huddled in the darkest corners of the room, weeping over the non-existent sound of the wind in the hallway.

It was weeping, and for the first time its long existence and soul had this weakness: it didn't even know that it was actually crying, and it would let out this pathetic and ridiculous roar like those food and slaves when they were deprived of the last bit of life.

It grows its mouth and spits out sounds that cannot be captured in reality, and its sorrow swells in the sea of souls, transmitted far, far and far in another world: but there is no one of its kind to laugh at it, for its fear and sorrow are not a lonely being in every inch of its reach.

It wept until it felt that not far away, another warship of its kind, had been torn to shreds casually and carelessly, and through its innate psionic senses, it could hear even the desperate roar of despair, the sound of hell in which a weak little beast had been targeted by a terrible barbarian king, and then little by little, it had been peeled and fleshed and thrown into its mouth to chew on.

It trembled, for it could clearly feel that the voice was getting closer and closer to its position, as if it had ignored the incredibly chaotic battle situation in the galaxy, like an old farmer walking among fruit trees, picking his own possessions all the time.

Fleeing, weeping, even self-judging: after realizing how close it was to that unimaginable monster, such thoughts turned into a rolling torrent, constantly pounding its mind, constantly attacking the unshakable authority of the king in its heart, and its soul was constantly churning with dark schemes, contemplating the possibility of escape from this war.

Escape: Such an act would undoubtedly kill it, as the psionic king of Osiris controls each and every one of its people, and through the inexplicable plague of subspace, any betrayal of it will only end in death: only the most powerful psionic species can avoid the cost of such a betrayal, but Lyavis clearly does not fall into this ranks.

But if you face that monster......

……

It would rather die.

False courage stirred up in its heart, until an irresistible scream came to its sea of souls: it was the order of the Psionic King, and it roared to order its own people, to order whatever force it could muster to stop the existence that was constantly wriggling here, and although this order would expose the Psionic King to the desperate airdrop blows of the Ultramarines, it was more afraid of the terrifying existence than the 100,000 army of the Lord of Otrama.

Likavis had no choice, its will almost semi-forcibly ascended into the dimension of the Sea of Souls, from the battlefield of reality to the purgatory of the void, and in its final moments, it observed the scene in the real universe through the slaves who controlled the ship's operating system.

As another human fleet appeared under the leadership of that monster and slaughtered the psionic fleet that was besieging the Ultramarines, the situation of the entire euridis melee was abruptly reversed: the attack of the Daybreaker caused the Osiris psionics to pay an unimaginable and terrible price in a very short time.

The fleet of the Dawnbreaker Legion was divided into two parts, one large and one small, the larger one was the convergence of the various main companies, like barbarians screaming and fighting, rushing towards the alien vanguards who were stuck at key nodes, while the smaller one was Morgan's flagship leading a few escorts, slowly sailing towards Osiris's huge reinforcement fleet, disdainfully facing an opponent hundreds of times his own strength.

In the first Terra Standard hour of the actual encounter, more than a hundred Osiris psionic hourglass ships fell, and the companies that launched the gang jump battle achieved their own bloody victories, shouting praises to the great name of the Mother of Genes.

Twenty-four companies of the Dawnbreakers participated in the battle, and they also achieved the same number of temporary victories: the remaining great results had been reduced to the crumbs between the Spider Queen's lips and teeth.

Especially the alien warships that stood in the way of Morgan's flagship: although these hourglass behemoths did not actually exchange fire with human warships, nor did they suffer blows such as gang jumping, they still fell into a dead silence one after another, like a strange mystery, and withdrew from this life-and-death genocidal war.

Only the most capable human psionics can barely know the answer: on every Osiris battleship that has fallen into dead silence, there is a scream of despair as these psionic species are stripped of their souls alive, and with the death of these slave owners, the massive alien warships are nothing more than dead things that have lost control.

By the time the Second Legion had reached the center of the galaxy, hundreds of Osiris hourglass warships had capsized silently, and these opponents, who often took more than a dozen hours of firefighting and a violent gang jump, had become a kind of luxury in the face of the ethereal smile that wandered among the stars.

The number of xenomorph warships that died from this terrible silence was even more than the Astarte warriors of the two legions combined, and at least a quarter of the Osiris psionic species fell in the silent march of the Daybreakers, and their plans were completely bankrupt with an invisible feast of gluttony, and as Morgan's legions successfully merged with the Vengeful Army of Otrama, without even more communication, Killiman's heirs methodically began to seize more of the initiative in the war.

Although the Ultramarines may lack advantages in all aspects, there is one advantage in them that can never be avoided: in front of a full 120,000 Astarte warriors, any trick that cannot be quickly succeeded will be reduced to the most tragic end.

When the 120,000 Kidliman sons finally cleared their worries with the help of their allies and diverted all their energy and anger to the frontal combat they were best at, neither the trickery of the psionic species nor the greenskins could prevent the balance of war from tipping in a desperate tilt towards the Empire of Mankind.

One hundred and twenty thousand Astartes.

The power of numbers.

That's the answer: how pale the resistance of the Osiris psionics was in the face of this truth-like answer, and the most powerful xenomorph warships had wiped out hundreds of Killiman's sons and killed hundreds of think tanks in a desperate confrontation, but before they had the shortest rest, a new, tenfold army of vengeance, would easily drown out their terrible howls.

The steady stream of reinforcements of Osiris has learned the meaning of numbers in front of the undistracted Otramars, while their valiant outflanking forces are fleeing for their lives in the scattered round-up of the Dawnbreaker fleet: at this moment, only the vast fleet gathered around the fortress world is the last force that the King of Psionic Seeds can rely on, and this catastrophe, which contains hundreds of the most powerful alien warships, is engaged in a bloody confrontation with the Glory of Maculag and its courtiers, Stopping the attempts of the Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds to launch an airdrop strike.

And with the crazy roar of the king of psionic seeds, this last alien fleet was also diverted for most of it without hesitation, and pounced on the [Goddess of Dawn], which was getting closer and closer to the fortress world at this time, hundreds of thousands of the most powerful Osiris psionics responded to the call and order of the king of the race, released their souls from hundreds of huge hourglass-type warships, and poured into the battlefield of subspace with fear.

And Lykavis was one of this great army, and in its long years it had never seen so many of its kind gathered together for the same purpose: it was under the impression that it only needed a thousand of its kind at most to feast on any world, and that the wars they had experienced had always been only clever calculations and last-minute surprises.

But now, everything seems to be different.

Lyavis' soul floated in the sea of souls that had become a little crowded, and its will enough to enslave a hundred thousand intelligent beings allowed it to see the truth in the subspace clearly, and to see the world that the barbarian warriors were fighting in the Eurades system at this moment would never know.

Although on the surface, although the three-way melee has spread the entire galaxy in flames, the Euryrides system is still an intact galaxy, and the biggest damage it has suffered is only the surface of the planet being crumbled by various falling devastation, but other than that, the place seems to be normal and stable.

But only by stepping through the turbulent sea of souls at this time and coming to a high enough dimension can we see the true truth of this unfortunate place at this time: most of the land is indeed complete, although those planets exude an unwavering dead silence like the void, but in the very center of the galaxy, billions of souls who are indulging in the fight have already turned the center of the galaxy into a colorful color, and large chunks of bright yellow and blood red tell how much malice and madness are surging in the sea of souls here.

But despite this, this is still a normal scene, a boiling that any Void War will ignite, something that the psionics have long been familiar with.

And what really scares them is the scene that is born in front of their eyes.

From the point of Mandeville that the human fleet, known as the Legion of the Dawnbreakers, had passed through when they arrived in this system, until the moment they were fighting was close at hand: the winding march that spanned half the galaxy was already before their eyes......

Gone.

It was as if a whole piece of pizza had been taken away: literally, completely gone, and even the most powerful psionic species could not see the slightest trace of this twisted path, only a faint trace of fantasy existence behind the silence like a black curtain.

The Legion of the Dawnbreakers, or more specifically, the worlds experienced by the Aurora, including the stars of the Eurydais system, are still normal in the real universe, but in subspace, they have a different appearance.

The stars began to become strange and distorted, like phantoms in a pool of water constantly disrupted by stones, rising and falling in the unsettling black curtain, constantly changing their images and directions, and in some moments that were difficult to grasp, they even turned into a kind of flesh and blood star full of eyeballs and tongues, which made the psionics feel jealous from the bottom of their hearts.

Distorted, fickle, unknowable......

Unknown.

In that corner of the galaxy that had been eaten, there seemed to be something that they could not have guessed, and some entity known as Unknown had devoured the souls of those stars, as well as the countless Osiris aliens that remained in that corner forever.

As if there was a strange magic and attraction, although each psionic species was filled with fear in its own heart, the sick longing for the unknown was churning in the heart at this very moment, churning in the communication network shared by all of them, and even the roar of the psionic king became irrelevant in the face of this plague-like desire, hundreds of thousands of souls who could easily destroy and enslave a race, just staring at the darkness and listening to the fear that was getting closer.

And almost in the next second.

Unknowns and fears have appeared.

——————

The moment [He] actually appeared in front of it, Likavis could not even feel what he was doing, its soul seemed to be frozen, ordered, attracted and seduced by some unknowable presence, it could not control any of its actions, and could only open a dozen pairs of its compound eyes in vain, staring at the being that slowly emerged from the darkness.

It does not exclude this impotence.

And as the [Dawning Goddess] slowly stepped through the alien defense line and appeared within the observation range of the fortress world, with the hoarseness of the king of psionic seeds gradually turning into some kind of desperate sorrow, accompanied by that strange laughter from the deepest part of the sea of souls, easily piercing the eardrums of each psionic soul, that thing, finally slowly revealed a part of its existence.

The first thing that appeared was a pair of huge and white arms, wrapped in countless silver-white silk threads, but still could not hide its jade-like flawlessness, these exquisite hands did not look like the evolution of nature could be born of creation, its every joint and every inch of skin revealed a pale coldness, like a puppet that had been created by the greatest craftsmen who spent their lives and even their souls and lives, and the silver-white silk threads led these hands, These hands were huge enough to easily grasp an alien warship.

He pinched a battleship, like a gentle lady pinching a green grape, and with a playful chuckle and the rubbing of his fingertips, the soul of the hourglass alien giant ship was wiped out in an instant, and hundreds of the most powerful Osiris psionic species disappeared with their abode, and their souls exploded in an instant, turning into dust swept by the wind, and disappeared all the way into the pure darkness.

And in the real universe, in the midst of the dawnbreaker's surprise and the slight consternation of the Ultramarine, another huge Osiris's giant battleship flipped its body and fell into a dead silence in an instant, giving up all fighting and resistance, allowing Otrama's Avengers to tear it and its commanders to shreds with absolute firepower.

Once again, the scales of reality have tipped and in the sea of souls it is nothing more than an insignificant episode, an antics show before the real drama comes out.

With hundreds of desperate cries before death, and under the unbelievable gaze of hundreds of thousands of Osiris psionic species, the monster finally slowly emerged from the darkness and manifested itself in front of the alien empire.

Like an apparition, like a mirror, like a nightmare in the depths of the mind, like a collection of everything that an intelligent creature could fantasize about in the darkness of the unknown, the monster, or rather, that being, appeared.

It was massive, it was indescribably huge, it was an irrational construct that could only exist in the chaos and disorder of subspace: when the soul creature named Morgan finally appeared before the eyes of the psionic species, they were shocked to find that out of the darkness, there was actually a god-like shadow that was larger than all the fleets and planets in the galaxy combined.

He could easily hold the star in his arms with just open arms, and with a single wave of her white arms could destroy most of the hundreds of alien warships, he watched mercilessly at what happened in front of him, like a noble god watching a gunboat war taking place in a bath.

His body was invisible, invisible, for a coldness more terrible than death had been captured by her, woven into a long dress that reflected oblivion and calmness, enveloping His body greater than the world: his body may or may not exist, this is a concept that is not known, this is a part of the unknown itself, a realm that has not yet been fully explored.

He may have a body, or he may have a body, or he may have no body, he may not have a body: they do not know this, they cannot see, they are not allowed to know, they are not qualified to know, and within the limits of their vision and soul, they can only barely see the great arms, and the ethereal mist connected to the base of them.

In the mist, an unimaginably beautiful head floats there, a divine face that can barely match it with all mythological aesthetic concepts, with the perfection of all arts, with the noblest passion, whose head is beautiful, that is a beauty beyond race, a concept that has been detached from its practical meaning, and that Venus, Aphrodite, Helen, and Cleopatra have the greatest reliance in their myths.

But such a beautiful head, but it could not depict the true face at all, when the psionics saw his formation, they screamed in unison, half of the creatures crushed their souls and consciousness in the first moment, and did not hesitate to throw their lamps to death, while the remaining half fell to their knees in despair and began to pray.

The immaculate head was enveloped in holiness and desecration at the same time: countless strands of silver hair glowing with his breath and footsteps fluttered with it, easily enveloping the alien warships and feeding like voracious flyeaters, while the rest hung slowly, disappearing and reappearing in the ethereal mist, tugging at arms larger than the stars.

Between the millions of flowing strands of silver hair was a net that easily engulfed the galaxy into a cyst, scattered strands of hair like an ocean of cleanliness, regurgitating and shimmering with a strange brilliance, dancing and drifting, and only the most sensitive psionic species could see the fear beneath the beauty.

Every strand of hair is not a dead thing moving with the wind, but at their ends, with snake-like pupils and sharp teeth, the so-called drifting is nothing more than a wave of millions of icy predators constantly foraging, and they rush to pounce on each prey, biting all the souls that are allowed to be captured, tearing them to pieces in the most savage and painful way.

And these wanton cold-blooded creatures weren't the only inhabitants: as the unspeakable unknown presence moved her face, a white veil of spider silk draped over its mist-shrouded torso, and in the haze, thousands of shadowy figures were revealed.

It was spiders, countless snow-white spiders with humanoid upper bodies, their human-like faces were covered with blood-red compound eyes, and the originally slender arthropods were now thick as if they were rough imitations of human limbs, these fat creatures were as busy as well-trained palace maids, they walked in the emptiness of the subspace, and with the hard work of millions of silver hairs, they kept spitting out the same snow-white mucus and cysts, and the cysts would drill new spiders in the next second, Connected by slime, a spider's web formed in front of Him in the blink of an eye, a terrifying web of countless wriggling spiders, and the spiders kept spitting silk threads into the gaps between them, until the web was completely formed in His hands.

The silk threads of the white spiders are a strange hard material that is almost like glass, which makes this spider web a little contradictory: the wriggling white spiders enclose the mirror-like void, and in the mirrors, the hellish scene is reflected.

Countless Osiris xenomorphs have been turned into churning pieces of flesh and blood, suffering unimaginable torment on the other side of the mirror: and to the despair of the Osiris Xenomorphs, among the suffering who are constantly crying, they clearly see those of their kind who have just been devoured by the being in front of them.

Tens of thousands of screams were heard through the psionic array, finally shaking the will of the psionic species, and hundreds of thousands of forced warriors awoke from their astonishment and false courage, trembling and cowering, even the most powerful who were accustomed to feasting on the souls of one world chose the same approach at this moment.

Escape.

Escape at all costs.

Hundreds of thousands of Osiris psionic souls screamed in unison, desperate for escape from the horrors in front of them, ignoring the hoarse cries of the Osiris psionic king: but even then, it was too late.

He raised his hand and tapped lightly on the cobwebs in front of him.

In an instant, the entire sea of souls was like a shattered mirror, and countless spaces and dimensions collapsed in an instant, turning into fragments that were enough to tear souls apart, and the huge cobwebs were fleeting, thus freeing the prisoners who were imprisoned in it, who had already been tortured by mad torture to the point of losing all their minds.

It is a river, a river of blood that belongs only to the sea of souls.

The psionics screamed and ran, but just as a fleeing crowd could never be faster than a torrent, almost in the blink of an eye, the rivers of the victims caught up with their former compatriots, and countless of the most powerful souls were drowned alive in the irrational biting and grabbing, leaving only the amused chuckle of the Spider Queen.

And at this last moment, the countless psionic seeds really saw that face clearly, and saw clearly the existence that killed them, imprisoned them, and devoured them.

They saw it.

On that face, there was no expression, no facial features, just countless churning twisted screams, constantly changing and churning at an unimaginable speed, the faces of all races, the faces of each of the victims who turned into thousands, distorted beings like broken lenses, imprisoned beside Him, for Him to constantly change his appearance, change his existence, and hold his own authority.

He.

Can't see clearly.

Cannot be defined.

Nor can I recognize it.

(End of chapter)