Rumble, rumble, rumble—
The Golden Throne rose slowly. The accursed skeleton's crimson mechanical eye looked down upon the daemonic horde.
It was like gazing down upon lambs awaiting slaughter. The terror was absolute.
The holy radiance spilling from the Throne amid the machine's thunderous roar scorched daemonic skin and seared their membranes of sight.
They howled in agony.
In this instant, the daemons finally understood the helpless despair humans felt when facing an evil god.
Horror had arrived.
???!
The Greater Daemons went numb, barely able to stand.
How was this possible? The Accursed One was personally coming to deal with weak little daemons like them?
Wasn't that just bullying daemons?!
They screamed for the Blood God, the Grandfather, the Prince of Pleasure—begging their deities to save them.
As the Golden Throne climbed, the Chaos daemons finally saw what the construct truly was.
The Golden Throne—and the accursed skeleton—were embedded in the torso of a massive war-vehicle.
The humanoid machine stood over thirty meters tall, its body sheathed in streamlined dark-gold armor plating.
Behind it, sharply angled mechanical wings were lifting, inch by inch.
Whoom—
The Golden Throne's roar intensified. Light spilled across the machine's hull, and the mechanical wings sprayed golden veils of radiance, like a pair of wings formed from holy light itself.
A metal halo above its head shimmered into a luminous ring, forming a circular laurel crown.
It was impossibly sacred.
"This is my new armament, refined over years—Armour of Redemption. It really is absurdly powerful!"
Eden sat within the head section of the Armour of Redemption. Psychic lightning arced over his body as he felt the suit's endless, surging energy supply.
This large-scale armament differed from the Imperium's lumbering Titan god-engines. It was closer to the Gundam-style mecha of his previous life—far more agile, capable of free movement in void combat.
Technically speaking, it was a fusion of an Imperial Knight and a Psi-Titan—colossal in scale.
Its chest housed a psychic engine built from a knockoff Golden Throne, fragments of the Emperor's skeleton, and a Warp-extraction apparatus.
It could continuously draw upon the power of the Sacred Sun and the Sun of Hope, converting it into motive force.
But ordinary alloys could never withstand psychic power at this scale. So he had used one hundred tonnes of Blackstone and True-One Alloy to forge the armament.
That allowed it to contain and disperse psychic energy more effectively, becoming a brutal weapon capable of contesting truly massive foes.
"Only with this… can I feel even slightly at ease."
Eden murmured to himself.
All this time, the possibility of large Chaos entities and Star Gods appearing had kept him sleepless.
There was no helping it. In a physical universe with hard limits, anything both enormous and monstrously potent was exceptionally difficult to deal with.
With the Imperium's current fortresses and warships, true annihilation often wasn't feasible. And the Primarchs, constrained by their own scale, were at a disadvantage when facing colossal opponents.
Daemon Angron was exactly that: enhanced by the Chaos Gods into a being of terrifying size and strength.
And that was with the gods' power weakened by crossing from the Warp into the galaxy.
As for the Star Gods—the vampires of stars—they were even worse.
They were gods of the galaxy's physical reality itself.
Back when the Star Gods descended in fully manifested form, these horrific, oversized mechanical lifeforms immediately enslaved the Necrontyr's ancestors, devouring their flesh and souls.
The extinction crisis was so catastrophic that the Necrontyr embraced mass biotransference—abandoning flesh to reduce the Star Gods' interest in them, and swearing loyalty to those entities.
When the Old Ones discovered the Star Gods' existence, they practically soiled themselves and began amassing power like mad.
That ruling species of the galaxy was willing to do anything to defeat the Star Gods, even if it meant mutual destruction.
Unfortunately, the Old Ones—mighty as they were—still fell, and that was with the Star Gods fighting among themselves.
Simply put, the Star Gods crushed the galaxy's former rulers.
From the perspective of the old Imperium, even terrifying threats like the Necrons, the Aeldari, and the greenskin Orks were no more than tasty snacks before the Star Gods.
Although the Necrons, led by the Silent King Szarekh, shattered the Star Gods while they were weakened by internal strife and the aftermath of defeating the Old Ones…
They still could not truly erase them.
The surviving Star God shards were difficult to destroy, and could revive at any time if enough fragments gathered.
"For the Imperium, even the Silent King—the ancient overlord who returned not long ago—is hard enough to deal with. Let alone the Star Gods.
If those greedy gods of matter resurrected… they'd treat humans like spicy strips. I'd wager every flesh-born life in the galaxy would struggle to escape."
That was why Eden had always felt uneasy. The Imperium might be thriving, but danger had never left.
Humanity—fragile as it was—could be wiped out at any moment by the emergence of an even greater enemy, just like what happened to the Old Ones.
So the Armour of Redemption wasn't developed solely to fight Chaos.
It was also for the Star Gods that might appear in the future.
This large-scale armament technology would be upgraded continuously, becoming ever stronger. Perhaps he would even manufacture it in greater numbers.
To counter whatever might come.
As for whether it could truly withstand a Star God's assault, he had no certainty.
But at least it was an attempt.
"But for now, I can test this armament's might. Launching in Gundam form!"
Eden's thoughts flickered past, and he forcibly pushed down his fear of the future.
Seated upon the throne within the head section, he experienced the link between his mind and the colossal armament—like moving his own body.
Power lines and psychic currents flowed with astonishing smoothness. With psychic assistance, every component behaved as a unified whole.
Boom, boom, boom—
Eden guided the Armour of Redemption forward in heavy steps, looking down at the Chaos daemons below.
His voice, reinforced by psychic force, carried a godlike dignity and sanctity.
"Abominations. Death has arrived. Now you may scream in terror…"
"T-The daemon-devourer… that's the daemon-devourer! He's seized an even greater power again!"
"Blood God, how can the galaxy contain such a loathsome construct…"
Under overwhelming threat, the Greater Daemons finally understood what was happening.
The daemon-devourer was piloting a terrifying armament embedded with a Golden Throne and the Accursed One.
It was beyond dreadful.
That accursed existence was literally swinging the Accursed One at them.
Was this something a human would do?
You beast!!!
How could humanity produce something so vicious, so vile, so shameless?!
The daemons were in tears.
They did not know the Golden Throne before them was merely a "youth edition" imitation, and that the accursed skeleton was only a composite made with a limited quantity of skeletal fragments.
Even so, to them, it was a lethal threat.
As the towering behemoth strode closer, the Chaos daemons' courage shattered.
Those high-ranking daemons who managed to wrench free of terror and regain mobility had only one thought.
Run.
Eden looked down at the daemons screaming as they scattered in all directions, and an absurd notion surfaced.
He felt like a tokusatsu monster from his previous life—while the daemons treated him like the final boss.
They were terrified.
"Sure enough. Size advantage feels incredible."
Linked to the massive armament, Eden could even feel the feedback of the colossal mechanical feet striking the ground—finer than an Imperial Titan's response, as though he were moving his own limbs.
He took another step forward and crushed a daemon with a wet crunch.
Then he reached out, seized a Greater Daemon trying to fly away, and smashed it into the hangar wall so violently that it was neither properly alive nor properly dead.
With the ground trembling, Eden drove the armament forward like a rampaging monster.
Psychic weapons mounted on both arms unleashed continuous fire. Every blast triggered a psychic detonation, piling up casualties.
To the Chaos daemons, it was the end of days.
"That's enough."
After warming up, Eden adapted to the armament's controls and weapons with his usual absurd learning speed, and he stopped paying attention to the daemons.
Now it was time for daemon Angron.
That was Eden's caution showing itself.
If he hadn't taken a moment to acclimate, the Chaos Gods might have seized the opening and beaten him senseless before he could stabilize.
Boom!!!
Eden paused the armament for a fraction of a second. The wings behind him flared with psychic exhaust, and then he rocketed upward.
He smashed through the hangar's ceiling and surged into the sky, leaving behind a slaughtered scene of daemonic carnage.
The Chaos daemons wailed. More despair—more hopelessness at the Savior and the daemon-devourer—flowed into the Warp.
More daemons became afraid. Lesser daemons trembled violently, terrified that the daemon-devourer—this human devil—would eat them.
…
"Khan!"
The moment Eden burst out of the hangar, he felt the Chaos Gods closing in. Daemon Angron had already reached the forging platform's airspace.
And he saw the White Scars Primarch.
His brother had used the Eagle of the Galaxy's extreme speed to draw the Chaos Gods' attention, narrowly dodging the Prince of Pleasure's tentacles again and again.
But in the end, he was still caught.
Those loathsome rapture tentacles were about to invade the Eagle of the Galaxy—and the Khan himself.
Eden accelerated hard, turning the armament into a golden flash in the void, its trailing exhaust swaying like flame.
He rapidly closed on the rapture tentacles. Multiple gunports extended behind him, firing beams of sacred psychic force.
The beams scorched the tentacles and hindered their movement.
He closed further, grabbed the tentacles, tore them apart, and raised a hand to shove the Eagle of the Galaxy and the Khan toward a safer distance.
"Brother, you did well. Leave the rest to me!"
In the next instant, Eden sensed danger.
His rescue maneuver had exposed his back to the enemy.
Roar!
Daemon Angron seized the opportunity and lunged at the Savior's massive war-vehicle.
Yet at the moment he drew near, the Chaos Gods sensed something was wrong. A thick, instinctive dread surged within them.
At the same time, Eden turned the armament around to face them.
Kah!
Daemon Angron saw the war-vehicle's front—
and, like a startled animal, actually let out something like a bird cry, then retreated frantically.
His pupils constricted as though he'd been violently triggered.
???
The caution in daemon Angron's eyes did not fade as he stared at the Golden Throne and the accursed skeleton embedded in Eden's armament.
In that instant, the Chaos Gods were genuinely afraid.
That yellow-skinned bastard had crept up with the Golden Throne on his shoulder to settle accounts?!
All this time, the Chaos Gods had dared to stir up storms and slaughter in the galaxy because they relied on one thing:
The Accursed One could not move.
Humanity's master was trapped in the Imperial Palace on Holy Terra, trapped within that empty, unreality-adjacent Warp-space.
Chaos still carried a psychological shadow of the Accursed One—especially the Changer of Ways.
So the moment they saw the Golden Throne and the accursed skeleton, they reflexively pulled back and assumed a defensive stance.
"How is this possible?!"
Daemon Angron's layered voice rang out as he stared at the Savior's floating war-vehicle, full of disbelief.
The Khan—just shoved away by Eden's armament—was equally stunned.
He stared at his brother's massive armament, at the familiar skeletal silhouette, and his voice shook.
"Eden… dragged Father out to fight?!"
This completely unexpected operation left the White Scars Primarch utterly brain-dead.
You can do that?!
"Emperor…"
At the same time, amid the ruins, Lion and Perturabo finally saw the Savior's long-awaited armament and felt their scalps go numb.
Who would have imagined the Savior would carry their own father out to fight the enemy?
That was like digging up your family's ancestral grave and hauling your forebear out to block bullets.
Absurd. Too absurd.
In truth, for the Imperium, this wasn't a taboo.
Imperial warriors often mounted battle-brothers' remains—or the bones of the pure—onto shields or armor to catch incoming fire.
It was a blessing. It raised morale and sharpened resolve.
But no one imagined someone would dare to carry the Emperor himself—the master of mankind—out to block fire.
"Father… he must have agreed, right?" Lion swallowed hard as he spoke.
"He must have." Perturabo's thoughts felt like scrambled data, yet he still produced an answer.
In the galaxy, no one could force their father.
Lion looked at the armament floating in the void—streamlined, heroic to the extreme, with radiant wings drifting in light—and could not help feeling envious.
That was the kind of equipment a man, a true warrior, should pilot.
A thought rose in his heart for no reason at all.
"Damn it. That bastard got to show off again. How is he always so good at showing off?"
The Lion also wanted to drive such a magnificent suit of armor and fight at Father's side.
As for Perturabo, he was already scanning and recording every detail of the Savior's armament with total focus.
The Lord of Iron wanted to build something like that too.
Decision made.
The Savior's armament would be one of his primary research projects in the future.
"Grandfather… that's too terrifying…"
The Nurgle Greater Daemons in the area panicked, hurriedly packing up their precious cauldrons and stuffing them back into their bellies.
Then they stuck their asses out and hid behind the ruins like ostriches.
They were terrified that the loathsome accursed existence would come over with the galaxy's most terrifying Accursed One and flip their delicious plague-stew stall.
When the Savior arrived carrying the Golden Throne and the accursed skeleton, it triggered fear and chaos among Warp entities.
"A name is a shadow cast.
Even if the Emperor isn't in great shape these days, he can still hold Chaos down."
Eden hovered in midair, watching the reaction with a sigh.
He knew everyone thought he had carried the Emperor himself into battle, hence the terror.
And it was partially true.
The Golden Throne was a crude high-grade imitation—mostly appearance, but incorporating some real techniques.
As for the Emperor's bones, they were genuine.
Just not much.
If he had to quantify it, it was like carrying out one-fifth of the Emperor—enough to extend a portion of that power.
If he built more armament mechs like this in the future… would the Emperor's bones be enough?
Demand might exceed supply.
At this moment, within the Warp.
???
The Sacred Sun trembled for no reason, a vague sense of foreboding crawling through it.
What was going on?
In the void, Eden piloted the Armour of Redemption, still facing daemon Angron, seemingly seeking an opening to strike.
But the Chaos Gods were cautious as well, not attacking rashly.
"Oh. So it's a shoddy imitation."
Suddenly daemon Angron spoke. The layered voice sounded far more relaxed.
The Chaos Gods had seen through the construct's truth. They now understood it was not the genuine Accursed One—only a rough mimicry.
Of course.
There was no way the Accursed One could leave Holy Terra.
More importantly, they sensed the power contained within the Savior's armament.
It did not threaten them.
And the Savior himself was cautious, hesitant.
Once the Chaos Gods understood all this, they drove daemon Angron to pounce upon the Savior's armament—ferocious and furious, eager to vent their rage at being deceived.
Speaking through the possessed daemon-body, they snarled:
"Blasphemer. Your deception is laughable. I will tear apart your crude armament and your counterfeit!"
Boom—
Daemon Angron slammed into the Savior's armament, shaking space itself.
In an instant, he seized the armament's two arms, trying to rip it apart.
But in the next moment, the Chaos Gods realized something was wrong.
More power surged from within that war-machine. Sacred psychic force erupted violently.
"Parasites. I've got you now!"
Eden stared at daemon Angron, forcing the armor into a contest of strength as he rapidly increased output.
He had been hiding it.
He had deliberately run the engine at low power, suppressing psychic levels as much as possible, because he feared that once the Chaos Gods sensed true danger, they would simply make daemon Angron run.
If they dove back into the Warp, Eden might not be able to catch them.
Now the possessed daemon-body was within the coverage range of his psychic power.
They could not escape.
Rumble—
Eden drove the armament, smashing daemon Angron down into the forging platform. Steel structures collapsed in droves, cracks spiderwebbing across the platform.
Two thirty-meter behemoths brawled like monsters amid steel ruins.
Lava and warp-tainted filth spilled with the combat, corroding the platform as more explosions shot skyward.
Bang, bang, bang!
Eden hammered daemon Angron's head with a colossal mechanical fist. Every strike punched out psychic ripples, even splitting the veil into visible fissures.
The authority of the Sacred Sun and the Sun of Hope poured out, suppressing everything.
Top-tier combat was just that plain and brutal.
Pressure of rank. Raw power.
But very quickly, the Chaos Gods entered a frenzied state as well, combining their authority. Warp energy further empowered daemon Angron.
Eden could no longer maintain suppression. The Armour of Redemption was seized and slammed down onto the platform's surface.
Yet Eden did not panic in the slightest.
The chest-mounted Golden Throne blazed with holy light. The Emperor's bones gleamed beneath a layer of radiance.
A golden phantom overlapped the skeleton, sacred and imposing. Behind its head, a sun manifested.
"What?!"
Through the possessed daemon-body's vision, the Chaos Gods saw the Accursed One's silhouette, and they saw the Sacred Sun.
More importantly—
the skeletal mechanical cyclopean eye flared, brewing a concentrated threat.
Their hearts jolted.
In the next moment, a high-intensity beam of sacred psychic force poured out—
The True Emperor Death Stare!
Not only that, Eden drove the armament as its mechanical arms also unleashed high-intensity sacred psychic output, shaping it into a half-dome.
Then he rammed it straight into daemon Angron's head, the force even spreading through the daemon-body and into the Warp.
To the gods, it was foul beyond words.
Disgusting beyond disgust.
Plunger attack!
(End of Chapter)
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