"Hahaha

Somewhere in the subspace, the shrill screams of the Lord of All Kinds set off a monstrous wave. The instinctive desire to know, which was engraved into his instinct because of his power, and the instinctive desire to survive that he must have as an intellectual individual, collided with each other at this moment, and to a large extent interfered with the normal strength that he should have as a chaotic power.

From the primordial terminals, the individuals outside the universe, the dimensions beyond the observable range, all of these provoke Tzeent's curiosity. But this time was different from the time when he faced Fujimaru Rika, or even Tezcatlipoca: Tzeentch did feel the danger to some extent when facing the aforementioned outsiders, but he was still able to rejoice in the changes it brought about—but the ...... summoned by Debit Things, the "danger" that Tzeentch feels, are fundamentally different in nature.

They are external destruction, disordered madness, one and all, beginning and end, ...... Some kind of ......

Something that can overturn their beloved chessboard, or even "kill" them entirely.

It's worse than the one on the throne. Although if he had risen, he would most likely have ascended a seat of mad hatred that symbolized burning and destruction, but at least he would have operated according to the basic laws of the universe. But what about those things? Tzeentch didn't know.

For the Lord of Change, this was literally the first of its kind: He knew nothing. When facing Fujimaru Ritsuka, he was at least well aware that he was dealing with a "human who had fallen into this universe from the Well of Eternity" and was therefore able to treat her the way he treated a human being; When dealing with Texcatlipoca, He was at least well aware that he was dealing with a "god who had somehow crossed the barriers between the worlds" and was therefore able to deal with Him in the same way as other divine beings; But—this thing summoned by Debbit? Aside from the fact that "they were, were, and will not exist, nor should they exist in this universe," Tzeentch can say that he doesn't know anything.

He was driven by the power to know, but he refused to know, driven by the instinct to survive. It made him look very much like some kind of schizophrenia at this very moment—even in the eyes of the Chaos powerhouse, whose "mental state" could never be measured by human standards.

"If you can't help, at least be quiet, can't you?" The Lord of Pleasure, not far away, "said," and the "tone" was clearly not very happy, "My favorite one is now coming face to face with those abominations!" Alas, poor little fellow, how frightened he would be by this! ”

Although he was also watching the battlefield, the Dark Prince, who lacked a more intuitive understanding of the threat of "those things", only seemed a little worried. He didn't have the power to get to the heart of things at a glance like Tzeentch, and he was the youngest of the gods. This prevented him from immediately understanding the threat of those things, and found them to be annoying—with the power of Slaanein, he could not even decipher the emotions and desires of the dark shadows, as if they were "not alive."

But they do seem to be alive. They are apparently self-conscious and have predatory behavior. Even, the Lord of Pleasure felt that after His minions, His fragments, and the little power that He extended from, those who were inanimate were swallowed up by the shadows, they were completely "gone".

This made him feel a threat in addition to disgust.

"Can't you fix this?" Driven by all kinds of negative emotions, Slaanesh complained to Tzeentch without much hope, "They were 'summoned', right? It didn't seem like there was any sacrifice. Can't you just send them all back with some kind of counter-spell? ”

"Hee-hee-no, I can't! Even if I could, I couldn't! The Lord of Change's sentence was reversed, "You can't do that!" You can't get their attention, because that's the same as getting the attention of something behind them! ”

"What?" Slaanesh frowned, and for a split second retreated—Fogham was one of his favorite toys. He had taken the rare initiative to please the Lord of Pleasure with a play, and of course he was in favor of it. But if the drama was going to happen to Vogrim, he should have stopped everything that was happening.

But Tzeentch's crazy sentence still doesn't end:

"You can't send them with spells, you can't influence them with power, you can't twist them with rules, you can't let them stay here for too long—lo and behold! Sharis, my brother! Actions like this lead our chessboard to ruin! He said this with two extreme emotions of ecstasy and fear in his tone, which almost impossible to exist at the same time, "But don't worry! I'm watching! Everything will continue to go as planned! There are always other beings who are more worried about the survival of the chessboard itself than we are! ”

——

Just as his master had thought at perhaps the same moment, Fogham did retreat in his heart.

He really didn't want to continue dwelling on this messy, incomprehensible stuff.

The Demon Primordial has indeed shrunk in the Silver Palace for almost 10,000 years, focusing only on those extreme pleasures, rarely leaving them and leading the troops to the real battlefield. But that doesn't mean he's completely lost what he should be as a general - although maybe, maybe, probably, not a lot of it remains, after all, there are too many emotional, or rather "emotional" messy reasons that can affect his decision-making.

Moreover, the men he was able to command were scattered and barely organized, but Fogham had apparently thought about this before he set out, and had managed to get them or them to obey his orders—at least, his "ingenious" plan, with the help of both Slaanesh and Tzeentch, had gone through until Ferus Manus had been successfully stopped, and nothing had gone wrong.

But he really didn't know what these dark shadows were in front of him, and he didn't want to fight this kind of thing at all. He felt that they were all incomprehensible, and he did not know that this was not just a feeling he subjectively perceived from those things, but an objective fact: as a "certain life form" within the universe, objectively speaking, it was absolutely impossible for him to understand those "extraterrestrial life". This is something that even Tzeentch would not have been able to do.

Even after a close fight, Fogrem still couldn't understand what they were made of, how they formed, how they attacked, how they survived—fortunately, if they just wanted to "kill" them, they didn't necessarily need to understand how they worked. At least the most basic, chopping them up finely, or burning them to their bodies, a brutal means of halting the vast majority of life, is indeed useful for killing these "things".

If it had been 10,000 years ago, when he had not fallen and dared to reclaim a planet in three months with seven heirs, Fogrem would not have been so flustered. As long as this thing can be killed, then they still have a chance to win. But now, Fogreem, who has become the Demon Prince, clearly lacks the corresponding faith and motivation, and the soldiers under his command are no longer the determined and skilled "Emperor's Sons".

Slaanesh's army was on the verge of collapse under the onslaught of horrific alien species, and the battle line quickly retreated in a cry of terror. The platform that had been set up for the atmosphere when Foggrim appeared had been destroyed, and the other four Great Secret Keepers he had arranged to hide them as a case were forced to leap out and join the warband in exasperation, only to be drowned in the shadows soon after, one by one, in some form that could not be understood, with the same screams of fear.

Forgrim believed that the death of these Slaanesh demons would surely attract the attention of the Lord of Pleasure, but the rolling waves of the High Heaven did not bring him the will of his master.

The Demon Prince gritted his teeth and looked into the distance at the towering mechanical towers in the opposing line, barely summoning a little fighting spirit to grit his teeth and hold on to the battlefield. Unwilling to admit that his perfect plan would be defeated by this unexpected event, Forgrim tried to convince himself to overcome the fear of the unknown, and continued to struggle on this battlefield with anger and reluctance—

— and at this point, there was one minute and six seconds left before Debit's "sixteen minutes" ended.

Miwoo (six o'clock)

(End of chapter)