The Rock.
In the Hall of the Sanctified, before the Unnamed Gate, ever since the Lion's coming home, no proof was needed. The sons of the Dark Angels, relying on the memories passed down through their gene-seed, recognized his identity!
Soon, under the Lion's orderly organization, the remaining Dark Angels concentrated their strength, guarding the only path to the Unnamed Gate!
The Primarch's coming home was not merely for boosting morale.
The coming home of their gene-father made the remaining Dark Angels feel a resonance from their souls and genes, and everyone fell into an unprecedented frenzy!
Although the attacking Chaos forces held a numerical advantage, this was, after all, the Dark Angels' lair, and the labyrinthine underground passages provided the Dark Angels with excellent ambush terrain.
And as a Primarch, the Lion was personally leading his elites to block the Chaos Creator!
But—he always felt that something was not quite right!
Logically, Vashtorr should have been eager to attack, but this Chaos daemon was unhurried, as if he was stalling for time.
What benefit would stalling for time bring him?
The Lion couldn't figure it out. He looked up and saw the disgusting, mocking sneer on Vashtorr's face, and his anger intensified.
"What are you thinking?"
Vashtorr continued to mock.
The Lion said nothing, swinging his sword in a horizontal slash.
The seemingly unadorned strike contained the power of a thunderbolt. The sword's edge, wrapped in a storm, cut out a chilling, sharp gleam.
Clang!!!
Sparks flew amidst the clash of metal!
In the dimly lit Hall of the Sanctified, it illuminated the faces of the Lion and the Chaos Creator. One had resolute eyes, deeply hidden anger; while the other, a mechanical daemon, showed a hint of playfulness and mockery in his eyes.
"Let me guess—do you feel like something isn't quite right now?" The Chaos mechanical Creator, the evil demigod, Vashtorr, showed an increasingly intense look of mockery on his face, scrutinizing the returned Primarch.
"Daemon, put away your pathetic rhetoric; you cannot corrupt me!" The Lion let out a cold snort, full of disdain and contempt for Warp evil, stepping forward half a pace, knees thrusting upward, slamming unceremoniously into Vashtorr's chest!
Bang!
A tremendous force, like a cannonball, struck Vashtorr's chest, causing the Chaos Creator to recoil several steps as if kneeling.
The Lion seized this opportunity, firing a burst of bolter rounds to suppress him, while he himself, like a raging tide, swept forward with a fierce gust of wind, giving Vashtorr no room to breathe.
Vashtorr, repelled, showed a hint of annoyance on his face. He hated being interrupted when he was speaking.
But the subsequent burst of bolter fire accurately struck his force shield.
Boom! Boom!
The explosive muzzle flashes obscured his vision.
What followed was the Lion's relentless sword, like a torrential downpour, as if he had been caught in a storm.
Even with the protection of his force field generator, Vashtorr was beaten back repeatedly, without even a moment to catch his breath!
This was the Lion's tactic.
He knew very well that a mere defense offered no chance of victory for the Dark Angels as they were now.
Moreover, Vashtorr was a mechanical demigod of the Warp. Once a distance was created, allowing him to fully unleash evil Warp sorcery, gaining electronic superiority, and being able to paralyze augur arrays and weapons, the scales of this battle would be completely tipped.
Therefore, the only way to defeat Vashtorr was close-quarters combat, using fast, deadly, and dense attacks to leave him no time to cast sorcery!
The sword arts of Caliban had already been mastered by the Lion, and his own swordsmanship was extremely famous within the Imperium, even hailed as the best.
Since his coming home, the Lion had never been serious.
The reason was simple: whether it was a Chaos Lord or a so-called ancient veteran, they were all too weak for him, not even qualified to make him serious.
But—Vashtorr was different.
He was a demigod of the Warp. From this point alone, he was worthy of his serious attention!
Thus, the scene became the Lion, wielding his sword, chasing after the Chaos Creator, with impenetrable sword light occasionally interspersed with bolter fire for suppression, completely denying anyone else a chance to intervene.
Occasionally, some foolish Chaos Space Marines would try to block the Lion, creating an opportunity for Vashtorr, but the result was that, without even 0.1 seconds of pain, they were casually cut down by the Lion.
Vashtorr grew increasingly furious. How could a Warp demigod be chased like a stray dog by a mere Primarch?
"Enough!!!"
Completely suppressed by the dense, rain-like assault, Vashtorr finally became enraged, spewing out a large amount of Chaos code. This strike, imbued with the demigod's 'authority', though invisible to the naked eye, formed a storm in the unseen Warp, pressing down on the Lion before him with overwhelming force.
The invisible Chaos code, mixed with the authority of a Warp demigod, swept towards the Lion, who was only a foot away, like a terrifying psychic tsunami!
But who was the Lion?
One of the Primarchs created by the Emperor with the highest Warp resistance.
Not only that, a few days ago, in that mysterious forest castle, he had found the second 'treasure' bestowed upon him by the 'Emperor'.
The Lion suddenly pulled out a golden shield engraved with a lion, and unceremoniously slapped it towards Vashtorr's forehead!
The invisible Chaos code and Warp psychic energy collided with the shield, and were actually bounced back. Moreover, the hard shield, like a hammer, struck him hard on the head.
Instantly, he felt dizzy, his thoughts stiff.
Vashtorr's mind went blank, feeling a terrifying psychic energy surge in, as if several rough men had dragged his consciousness and thoughts into a dark space and thoroughly beaten him with fists and feet.
The Lion did not hesitate, seizing the moment of the opponent's daze, and swiftly thrust his sword straight at the daemon's head!
However, at this critical moment!
His sword, capable of banishing a daemon, was blocked by a great blade wreathed in blood energy!
Clang!!!
With a clash, the great blade wreathed in dense blood energy suddenly exerted force, actually sending the Lion flying.
More enemies?!
The Lion turned in mid-air, landing steadily, his gaze, like sharp sword light, fell behind the Chaos Creator, upon that giant, blood-colored figure that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
"Heh, is that all you've got?"
Amidst a mocking sneer, the giant blood-colored shadow stepped out. His ferocious and terrifying face was enough to inspire awe at first glance, and the twisted horn-like protrusions symbolizing his status, as well as the huge blood-colored daemon wings behind him, all attested to his identity.
"It's you?" Vashtorr, awakening from the confusion, showed a face that looked as if he had swallowed a fly when he saw the 'daemon' behind him, extremely ugly.
"How did you get here? Be'lakor."
This sentence revealed the 'daemon's' identity.
Khorne daemon Prince, Be'lakor!
"If I hadn't come, you would have been banished just now—" Be'lakor lowered his crimson eyes, watching Vashtorr mockingly.
"Lord paid a great price for your ambition and plans."
Looking at the suddenly appearing daemon Prince, the unease that had always lingered in the Lion's heart grew even heavier. He always felt he had overlooked something—
"Don't make it sound so good, Be'lakor!" Vashtorr was not appreciative, instead sneering a few times, gripping his mechanical staff, and mocking.
"We are merely using each other. You are using me as bait to hold back Lion El'Jonson."
At this point, the Chaos Creator's meaningful, half-smiling gaze suddenly fell upon the Lion, and he said sinisterly.
"So the question is, Lion El'Jonson, why don't you guess what 'surprise' this Warp Blood God has prepared on the Draconys?"
Boom!
At these words, the Lion was struck as if by lightning!
He finally understood. All the fragmented clues, including the deeper meaning behind Vashtorr's strange behavior, were all connected!
Vashtorr's goal was the 'key' hidden behind the Unnamed Gate, but what was the goal of the Khorne daemon Prince, and even the vast Khorne legions?
Purely for war?
No!
Khorne's target was Merlin!
"Guessed it?"
The Chaos Creator Vashtorr, seeing the drastic change in the Lion's expression, felt some of the anger he had from being beaten back by this guy subside, and even mocked.
"What a pity, it's too late to guess now—Lion El'Jonson, you are always one step too late, whether it was the Warmaster in the past, or the Draconys now!"
The evil Chaos Creator's single sentence sent Lyon's heart plummeting.
Only then did he realize what the 'Burning Forest' omen he saw in his dream a few days ago truly meant.
The burning forest wasn't a veiled reference to the 'Rock Fortress' crisis, but rather... Emrys!
"Your target... is Emrys?!" The elderly Lion's pupils blazed with a terrifying light, and even the surrounding air seemed enveloped by a chilling, viscous killing intent. Unstable Warp psychic energy,
permeating the barrier of the material universe, carrying the malice flowing in the High Heavens, mixed and infused with astonishing power!
In this ancient Hall of Petitioners, a vibrant, rich green suddenly spread outwards from Lyon.
Ancient vines grew, forming a strange and mysterious 'domain' with gnarled ancient trees.
Such an unusual sight made Daemon Prince Be'lakor's expression shift slightly, and he tightened his grip on his blood-red warblade.
This was a blood-red greatsword forged by Khorne when he ascended to daemonhood, based on the blood and souls of hundreds of living beings. He vigilantly watched every move of this 'Primarch', not daring to be careless in the slightest!
But in that instant, the vines spread throughout the Hall of Petitioners suddenly seemed to gain consciousness, swarming forward like mad!
Daemon Prince Be'lakor naturally knew that these 'vines' and 'forest' were connected to this Primarch.
Not daring to be careless, he violently swung his blood-red warblade, carrying a fierce and terrifying blade aura, slicing through the surging tide of vines.
Lyon's enraged gaze fixed on them, he sneered a few times, then slowly retreated, his figure gradually disappearing into the forest.
"No, he's going to run! Don't let him leave here!" Daemon Prince Be'lakor's pupils constricted. Ignoring the surrounding Dark Angels, he dragged his massive blood-red warblade, his wings beating, causing a blood-red storm to howl. He transformed into a violent figure and lunged at Lyon.
Clang!
Lyon raised his sword to parry.
The clash between the warblade and the Lion Sword contained two extreme psychic energies, instantly carving deep furrows into the ancient stone bricks around them!
The intercepted Lion King's temper immediately flared. He charged, shield first.
Daemon Prince's massive figure was actually forced back a few steps by the impact. Before Be'lakor could stabilize himself, several blasts trailing scorching plasma exploded into bloody mist on his body!
The intense pain made Be'lakor cry out, but the fierce sword light before him carved out a chilling river of light like a waterfall!
He hastily raised his warblade to block. Although he managed to parry Lyon's furious strike, this seemingly elderly 'old man' was surprisingly strong, even making his arms tremble. And those damned Dark Angels also seized the opportunity, launching frantic sneak attacks from the shadows.
"Vashtorr, aren't you going to help quickly?!" He couldn't help but urgently shout at the Chaos Creator beside him.
But seeing Lyon's fierce assault, the cooperating Chaos Creator merely watched, a cold sneer on his face, showing no intention of offering assistance.
"What are you waiting for, Vashtorr?!" Daemon Prince Be'lakor's tone was filled with strong dissatisfaction.
He roared, half enraged, half horrified, his already hideous face becoming as dark as if it were about to drip water, his gaze, wreathed in rich blood-red, fixed malevolently and unkindly on the Chaos Creator.
"Don't rush, let me rest a bit"
The Chaos Creator, however, was unfazed, completely unafraid of Lyon, a cold sneer on his face as he spoke sarcastically.
"You are Be'lakor, Daemon Prince under Khorne. Why would you need my help to deal with a mere Primarch?"
"Vashtorr!" Be'lakor was horrified and about to speak, but Lyon's sword struck him on the forehead, nearly decapitating him.
He had to concentrate on responding, but the surrounding Chaos Warriors showed no intention of helping. They even specifically cleared a large space for Lyon, as if to watch them duel.
But the problem was, the Primarch's Dark Angels had no intention of adhering to a 'one-on-one' fight.
Bolters, meltas, plasma, lasers... they used whatever they had, all aimed at his face!
One Lion King was already difficult to deal with, let alone so many Dark Angels?
For a time, Daemon Prince Be'lakor was beaten and scurried about, holding his head, unable to help but roar at the Chaos Creator.
"Vashtorr! I came to help you, don't forget our cooperation! If he finishes me off, your plan won't succeed either!"
Lyon, who was fiercely attacking, paused at these words, then retreated a few steps, vigilantly looking at Vashtorr.
He hadn't forgotten that he still had a Chaos Creator as an enemy.
"You don't need to mind me."
However, the Chaos Creator was all smiles.
"To be honest, I just want a thing, but what they want is not just one thing. After all, the summoning ritual on Draconys"
"Vashtorr!!!"
Daemon Prince Be'lakor's voice was sharp, as if countless souls were wailing, forcibly interrupting the Chaos Creator.
He was truly enraged. His blood-red greatsword swung without hesitation, dragging the rustling The Message, and cut towards the 'talkative' Vashtorr.
Clang!
Vashtorr's six metallic wings behind him closed, easily blocking the Daemon Prince's strike.
But the immense force made Vashtorr lose his balance and fly backwards.
His blade-like metallic wings spread, and after gracefully landing with the help of the air currents, this Chaos Creator was unhurried, even with a hint of mockery on his face.
"What? You can use me, but I can't use you?"
It turned out that he had long seen through Khorne's intentions, and agreeing to cooperate was merely a pretense.
As for being nearly driven away by Lyon, that was also a deliberate act.
The purpose was to force Daemon Prince Be'lakor, who was hiding in the shadow, onto the 'table'.
"What exactly do you want, Vashtorr!" At this moment, Daemon Prince Be'lakor also realized that this bastard was clearly doing it on purpose.
"What do I want? Heh heh heh...?"
The Chaos Creator let out a few chilling sneers, then turned his gaze to Lyon, saying meaningfully.
"My goal has always been the 'key' hidden behind that door, so now you have two choices... Honorable head of the Primarchs."
"Speak."
Lyon was expressionless, intending to see what tricks this Chaos Creator would play.
"Either you continue to block us here, but the people of Draconys... will suffer."
The Chaos Creator grinned, saying sinisterly.
"Or, you join forces with me to first expel Daemon Prince Be'lakor, then you go save your people, and I go get my thing... We won't delay each other. What do you think of my proposal?"
Daemon Prince Be'lakor's face twisted, and he couldn't help but curse angrily.
"Vashtorr, you untrustworthy bastard!"
"Trust?"
However, the Chaos Creator showed a look of derision.
"You talk to me about trust? When has Chaos ever talked about trust? Besides, don't think I don't know about the four of them... secretly conspiring against me!"