Chapter 436 - Chief Pain

Organize the supplies and erase the traces.

Then, Emrys donned his gray robe, and with Anna and Terralax, left the safe house and walked straight out.

"Can we really do this?" Anna pulled her gray robe tighter around her, shrinking her neck, and tried to hide her face as much as possible in her hood, asking nervously.

She was truly afraid.

They were currently hunting him everywhere, yet Emrys was openly walking out in a robe. How could she not be afraid?

If they were caught, she would be miserable!

"Why do you think they would definitely blockade the Old City factory on the periphery?" Emrys ignored her and continued walking.

"Isn't that standard procedure?" Anna blinked, full of confusion. 

"Blockade this place, then send people to search, to ensure we don't escape."

"You're not wrong, but you overlooked one point." Emrys stopped and turned to look at Anna. 

"The premise is that they have already confirmed we are hiding here; otherwise, they wouldn't blockade this place."

"Why?"

Anna was puzzled.

"The reason for not doing so is simple: they can't." Emrys glanced at the trembling Anna and said calmly. 

"How big is Commorragh? How many places can we hide? The Old City factory is no smaller than a large hive city, and there are four similar hiding places. Let alone a few conspiracy groups, even if they put all their power into it, it would be impossible to blockade all these places."

"Besides," Emrys said meaningfully, "I don't believe that Archon Vect, who has ruled Commorragh for thousands of years, would have his power usurped so easily without resistance. If I'm not mistaken, their main forces are probably still fighting this Archon, and they don't have too much power to spare to deal with us."

Did they really think rebellion was that simple?

Moreover, Vect wasn't dead yet. How could an Archon who had ruled Commorragh for thousands of years not have some power?

This was also the source of Emrys' confidence.

And indeed, just as Emrys had expected, with the help of biological reconnaissance transformers, they successfully left the Old City factory safely through the gaps in these people's patrols.

Next up was the Skullfane Corridors.

Along the way, Anna also explained the situation of the "Dark Killing Field" to Emrys.

The Dark Killing Field, also known as the 'Slaughter hive city,' is composed of several fragmented dimensional spaces stitched together, and can be roughly divided into the following areas: Skullfane Corridors, Flesh-hook black Market, Void Maw, and Laughing Spiral.

Among them, the Skullfane Corridors are most famous for the "Howling Spire," forged from thousands of skulls. Whenever a champion is executed in the gladiatorial arena, the bell tower is struck, emitting infrasound waves that resonate with biological nerves, allowing creatures bathed in this 'painful' infrasound wave to experience extreme agony.

This is also why the Skullfane Corridors are referred to by Anna as the 'Madman Gathering Area.'

In Commorragh, pain comes in myriad forms, and the pain of the "Howling Spire" is one of the ultimate pains pursued by these madmen, and it is the only 'free' benefit they can enjoy.

Yes, the madmen of Commorragh consider extreme pain a 'benefit.'

"We're here."

As she spoke, Anna stopped, took a deep breath, and didn't forget to warn. 

"Be careful, the people here are all madmen."

After walking through a narrow, downward, dark passage, the space ahead suddenly opened up. What greeted Emrys' eyes was a 'city' of elevated walkways arched by the intertwined spines of giant creatures, their surfaces covered with biological nerve fibers that glowed faintly like veins, as if still to live.

Below the walkway city was a bottomless void rift, with the wreckage of spaceships suspended, bound by Webway energy, like dead worlds.

The walkways varied in width.

The wider parts were nodes like 'platforms,' with chaotic clusters of buildings, some tall, some short, some spiky, some domed, all in different styles, looking utterly disorganized. The narrower parts were the Veinsconnecting these nodes.

As they delved deeper and entered one of the platforms, the distorted light cast by the two enslaved, dying stars filtered through the spirit-bone scaffolding, casting blood-red patches of shadow that illuminated a parallel passage before them.

The walls on both sides of the passage seemed to be built from biological flesh and bones, with struggling, emaciated slaves embedded within them.

These slaves struggled and wailed, yet were slowly swallowed and compressed by the walls, oozing a viscous, honey-like liquid.

Many half-mechanical, half-biological people were collecting this honey-like liquid seeping from the walls.

"This is Pain Honey," Anna explained to him. "It's a hallucinogen extracted from the tortured brains of slaves, favored by the lower and middle classes, with high sales. Even many nobles enjoy purified Pain Honey."

Although he had sighed many times already, Emrys still wanted to say—as expected of the Dark Eldar, when it comes to pain and pleasure, they are absolutely No.1!

"There, that's the Howling Spire."

Anna raised her hand and pointed.

Emrys looked in the direction she pointed. At the end of the corridor platform stood a giant bell tower forged from thousands of skulls.

Every part of the tower was embedded with skulls, which still had flesh and blood, as if unwilling to die, retaining twisted, ferocious expressions, mouths agape, as if still wailing in pain.

It was still that same old saying.

In terms of debauchery, the Dark Eldar perfectly inherited the bloodline of the Old Eldar Imperium's elite.

After a few glances, Emrys felt a bit nauseous and said to Anna, "Let's go to the coordinates."

Anna nodded.

The three of them blended into the Skullfane Corridors, completely inconspicuous. This place was filled with creatures pursuing pain and debauchery, including Orks, truly a paradise for masochists.

Soon, they arrived.

But contrary to his imagination, the location of the coordinates was actually a three-story-high, extremely extravagant and magnificent—bank?

"Pain Bank?"

Emrys' face darkened.

Was the Emperor reliable at all? Why was the place found according to the coordinates some ridiculous 'Pain Bank'?!

"Why here?!" As soon as Anna saw this place, she trembled all over, a look of fear on her face, and she cried out urgently. 

"Lord Emrys, quick, let's go—"

However, a figure, like a ghost, appeared at the entrance of the bank.

"Welcome—to the Pain Bank."

The person wore a garment sewn from biological skin, his left eye's pupil was like the compound eye of an insect, and three transparent neuro-plastic tubes extended from his spine, with crimson misty substance flowing inside them.

But what was even more horrifying was that when he bowed to them, the part of his right hand that emerged from his sleeve was clearly like a scalpel,

sharp, extremely thin, and delicate blade-like fingers.

It is well known that such a form, within Commorragh, only appears on one type of creature: the Haemonculi!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Emrys."

The person bowed. When he looked up, green pus flowed from the insect-like compound eye in his right eye, and his lips curved upward as he smiled. 

"I am the chief customizer of this Pain Bank—Corleon Split-soul. As you can see, I am a Haemonculus."

Haemonculus?!

A faint glint flickered in Emrys' eyes.

He then understood why Anna, a succubus, reacted like a mouse seeing a cat when she saw the 'Bank of Agony' sign.

Emrys knew a lot about Haemonculi, thanks to his previous life where he was quite interested in this 'perverted' profession.

Haemonculi are an indispensable and extremely important class of professionals within the Dark Eldar; they hold a very high status in Commorragh, usually existing in the form of 'Covens' and serving various Kabals, but they also maintain a degree of independence.

For example, an excellent Haemonculus can completely disregard the orders of a Kabal Archon, or even completely ignore him.

This extremely high status primarily stems from the two critical technologies that Haemonculi control, which are vital to the Dark Eldar's continued existence.

The first is the creation of artificial offspring.

Population has always been an unavoidable flaw for the Dark Eldar because the number of 'Trueborn' with noble bloodlines is extremely scarce, which means the Dark Eldar must find other ways to create a population, and this is the 'artificial offspring creation' technology mastered by the Haemonculi.

Most Dark Eldar are born in the terrifying amniotic fluid tubes of Haemonculus Covens; it is these artificially bred 'artificial offspring' that constitute the main source of the Dark Eldar's population.

It can be said that without this technology of the Haemonculi, the Dark Eldar would have gradually 走向滅亡 over so many years of war and plunder.

After all, no matter how noble or powerful the Trueborn bloodline is, their numbers are ultimately limited, and even a slightly larger war could wipe them out in one go.

The second technology of the Haemonculi is even more fundamental to the Dark Eldar's existence, and it can also be said to be a completely different method from the Craftworld Eldar for combating Slaanesh's soul-devouring.

If the Craftworld Eldar use the spirit bones of their ancestors, extreme asceticism, and emotional control to avoid being devoured by Slaanesh, then the Dark Eldar indulge in extreme debauchery, completely two extremes.

The Dark Eldar draw energy from the suffering of other creatures and use it to slow the rate at which their own souls are devoured by Slaanesh, and the Haemonculi are masters of this, excelling at manufacturing agony, and through the art of extreme suffering, they heal the wounds of their kin and even bring the dead back to live!

Every Haemonculus is a mad genius biological artisan, creating unattainable 'art' with suffering.

They are not only feared by outsiders, but even their bastard Dark Eldar fear these lunatics.

It is rumored that many seriously wounded Dark Eldar would rather commit suicide quickly than be treated by a Haemonculus, which shows how terrifying these people are.

To some extent.

Haemonculi are not too different from Slaanesh.

"You know me?" His thoughts returned, Emrys' eyes narrowed slightly, staring directly at the Haemonculus, without showing the slightest fear.

The Dark Eldar fear Haemonculi, but that doesn't mean he will fear him.

"To be precise, I've been waiting for you for a long time—Mr. Emrys." Corlyon Split-Soul's voice carried a heavy, mechanical friction,

It was harsh and sharp, possibly related to the Haemonculus' augmentations.

"Oh?"

Emrys raised an eyebrow. 

"Did 'Vect' tell you to wait for me here?"

"Bingo!"

Corlyon's five fingers, sharp as scalpels, scraped together, emitting a piercing sound, and his mechanical eye, like an insect's compound eye, stared intently at him. 

"Mr. Emrys, please~"

As he spoke, he performed the etiquette of a human noble, bowing sideways while raising his arm flat, signaling for them to enter.

Anna was a little panicked, looking at Emrys pleadingly, biting her lip with her silver teeth.

It was clear that she really didn't want to go in.

"Alright."

Emrys didn't really care, smiling as he stepped onto the stairs first and walked straight into the 'Bank of Agony', thinking to himself,

He wanted to see what this Haemonculus was up to.

Corlyon didn't even glance at the trembling Anna, walking towards Emrys. 

"I'll lead the way for you~"

As for Anna?

Heh, in Corlyon's view, speaking another word to a minor character like her was a waste of precious energy.

He simply couldn't muster any interest in a minor character like Anna, no interest at all, completely uninterested,

"Emrys, wait for me!"

Anna hesitated outside the door for a few seconds, seeing that Emrys and Telarax had already entered, leaving her alone outside. With a determined kick,

She cursed 'scumbag' under her breath and quickly followed.

What else could she do if she didn't follow?

It wasn't safer outside than inside, and with several major Kabals pursuing her, falling into their hands might not be much better than being tortured by a Haemonculus.

Inside the Bank of Agony was a dimly lit corridor, with many small cabinets embedded in the walls on both sides, giving it the feel of a pharmacy.

Corlyon walked ahead, seemingly in excellent spirits, chattering away as he introduced the 'goods' in these 'cabinets' to Emrys.

He pulled open a cabinet with his scalpel-like finger, and inside, shockingly, was a fresh, still-wriggling, milky-white brain immersed in a transparent jar, with even its wrinkled cortex clearly visible.

"As you can see, these are all 'inferior products'." Although Corlyon's tone was modest, from the upward curve of his lips,

It was clear that he was probably secretly delighted in his heart.

"This brain stores three hundred and seventy-two types of painful energy, from a — Space Marine." Corlyon twisted his neck to a bizarre angle. 

"I have to say, your human Space Marines are truly the best test subjects — they fear no pain,

They don't fear death, making them experience extreme suffering and producing satisfactory painful energy is a very challenging operation for any Haemonculus."

As he spoke, the Haemonculus continued to observe Emrys, seemingly eager to detect a hint of anger or other emotions in his eyes.

But unfortunately, Emrys was expressionless, showing no emotional fluctuation whatsoever, as cold and indifferent as a block of ice, which made Corlyon feel slightly bored.

Soon, after passing through this corridor of pain-filled cabinets, they arrived at Corlyon's private room, a terrifying laboratory filled with blood and cruelty.

Inside, there was even a creature suspended by machinery, but its flesh, sinews, blood vessels, and bones were all peeled away layer by layer,

But the creature was not yet dead; it was still to live, or rather — still experiencing suffering!

Emrys merely glanced at it before retracting his gaze and turning to Corlyon. 

"Did you bring us in just to show me these boring things?"

Boring?

A cold glint flashed in Corlyon's eyes.

But before he could do anything, he felt a tsunami-like pressure descend, and its source — was none other than the 'person' three meters tall, draped in a gray robe.

"Hahaha" Corlyon had doubts in his heart, but his expression quickly changed, and he smiled. 

"Mr. Emrys is joking. Of course, I didn't bring you in to show you these boring things." "Then let's get to the point."

Emrys was not at all polite, treating Corlyon's private dissection room as his own room, sitting down directly, his gaze calm. 

"You should know the current situation. I don't have time to listen to your nonsense."

"The Ironthorn Conclave?"

Corleon uttered the name indifferently, his face full of disdain. 

"Hmph, this is the 'Skull-Rift Corridor'. Their reach, no matter how long, can't extend here."

Then, the Haemonculus elegantly approached a freezer, took out three crystal cups containing a viscous, almost transparent liquid, and slowly placed them on the table, seemingly very confident, and smiled. 

"I can assure you, as long as you are here, they will not be able to find you."

"Please, Mr. Emrys."

Saying that, he pushed the three drinks towards Emrys. 

"This is my exclusive drink, 'Screaming Smoothie'. We scrape 'Pain Nectar' from the walls of the Skull-Rift Corridor, mix it with blood dust falling from the battlefields, pour it into a cup and freeze it. Upon tasting, the Memento of sealed desires and senses will explode on your tongue, guaranteed to make you linger."

"No, thank you."

Emrys looked down at the viscous liquid in the crystal cup, not having any appetite at all.

Besides, he had personally witnessed how the 'Pain Nectar' of the Skull-Rift Corridor was made. Who would have an appetite for that?

"If you are worried about not being accustomed to the Dark Eldar's taste, you can rest assured," Corleon still refused to give up, persuading him. 

"This cup of yours is specially made by me. It contains no 'pain', only 'extreme pleasure'."

Extreme pleasure?

Sorry, that makes it even less drinkable!

Emrys still didn't touch the specially concocted 'Screaming Smoothie'. 

"I've already said no. And—you are wasting my time, Lord Haemonculus."

Being rejected repeatedly caused Corleon's eyes to gradually turn cold, his scalpel-like fingers subtly rubbing against each other.

It was as if the air had solidified a bit. 

"Mr. Emrys, you don't seem to understand your current situation?"

Emrys looked up, calmly staring at him. "The Conclaves hunting you are not just the 'Ironthorn'." Corleon leaned forward slightly, his terrifying face approaching Emrys a few inches, viscous pus flowing in his compound eyes, and he said in a sharp, threatening voice. 

"Obsidian Rose, Flayed Skull, Cursed Blade, Bloodied Hand, Swiftblade—the Archons of all these Conclaves want your head."

God damn, a few more? That's quite something.

From three last time, it's directly two more. Did he, by any chance, poke the hornet's nest of Conclaves?!

Emrys' heart pounded, and he muttered to himself: Oh Emperor, oh Emperor, you really found me a good job!

Shock was shock, but he had long cultivated the ability to remain unfazed even when Mount Tai collapsed before him, so naturally, he wouldn't show the slightest fear in front of this cunning 'Haemonculus'.

"So what?"

Looking at the still indifferent Emrys, Corleon sneered sinisterly. 

"Only I can protect you, allowing you to safely and smoothly meet Vect. So—you'd best think carefully."

Saying that, he extended a scalpel-finger and slowly pushed the 'Screaming Smoothie' in front of Emrys, his lips curving upwards. 

"Drink, or—not drink."

"Oh?"

Emrys raised an eyebrow slightly, a half-smile on his face. 

"What if I don't drink?"

"Don't drink?"

A sinister aura lingered in Corleon's eyes. 

"That means you don't acknowledge my friendship, and we are not friends. Since we are not friends—I have no need to conceal your whereabouts from them, do I?"

"If I don't drink, we're not friends?"

Emrys' lips curved upwards, feigning fear, and confirmed again. "Of course, as long as you drink, you are my friend." Corleon smiled even more brightly. This was the result he wanted. As long as he showed fear, he would have a way to control this human!

However.

The situation was completely different from what he had imagined.

Emrys, who had originally looked terrified, suddenly changed his expression, his eyes terrifyingly cold. 

"I refuse."

"What?"

Corleon seemed not to have reacted yet, stunned for a few seconds. "I said, I refuse."

Emrys slowly stood up, looking directly at the Haemonculus, and said coldly. 

"What I, Emrys, like most is to say no to those who are full of themselves!"

"Emrys!" Corleon immediately felt a sense of humiliation. He was actually challenged by this human. He glared at him, enraged, his voice deepening a few tones. 

"You'd better think carefully. If you don't cooperate with me, your whereabouts will soon be on the tables of those Conclave Archons. You'll be dead then!"

This was a naked threat!

"Emrys, in your human words: don't bite the hand that feeds you!" Corleon said sinisterly. 

"You'd best recognize reality, I am—."

Slap!!!

Before the Haemonculus could finish his sentence, he received a solid psychic slap across the face!

The loud sound made Corleon's head ring with a buzzing sound. His face was full of disbelief as he stared blankly at Emrys. 

"You—you dare to hit me? How dare you hit me?!"

He couldn't understand.

Emrys was clearly the one at a disadvantage. Shouldn't he be begging him desperately?

"I hit you because I hit you, do I need a damn reason?!" The more Emrys thought about it, the angrier he got. What the hell, a mere alien, dares to play obedience tests with him, a dignified Imperial Duke?

Thinking of this, Emrys waved his hand again, and this time there was no psychic power, purely relying on physical strength.

Corleon tried to dodge.

"Dodge? Did I tell you to dodge?"

Under the suppression of the Graviton Flux, Corleon's face once again made intimate contact with Emrys' palm, and a loud sound echoed in the bloody room.

Slap!

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap...

Emrys seemed not to be appeased, his arm swinging in circles, repeatedly slapping the Haemonculus. 

"Arrogant? You're arrogant with me? I don't even put Khorne's Prince in my eyes, what are you?!"

Corleon was already disoriented by the continuous slaps, only able to let out painful screams.

"Trying to show off with me?"

Emrys' last slap sent Corleon flying backward, crashing onto his experimental table.

Corleon was utterly dazed by the slaps, his face twisted from the blows, his eyes practically spitting fire, glaring at Emrys, letting out a sharp howl. 

"You're dead! Emrys! I'm going to kill you! I'm definitely going to kill you!!!"

Bang!

With a loud crash, Corleon's body, along with the dissection table, was crushed by terrifying gravity. The lights in the entire room flickered violently, and a terrifying psychic aura permeated the air.

Emrys walked towards him step by step, and under Corleon's terrified gaze, he lifted his foot and stepped on his head. 

"Killing isn't done by words, but—by actions."

As he spoke, his foot slowly increased pressure, pressing Corleon's head inch by inch into the shattered ground.

Corleon's skull squeezed against the ground, emitting an eerie crunching sound under the pressure, and a hint of fear erupted in his pupils.

This human really dared to kill him!

"No, don't kill me—!" At this moment, Corleon finally became afraid. He screamed, begging for his life. 

"I, I am very important to you—ah ah ah spare me, I, I am useful to you, without me—you won't be able to see Vect!" But Emrys was unmoved.

Finally, just as Corleon was screaming, a shadow emerged from behind, speaking in an old voice. 

"Mr. Emrys, would you spare his life for my sake?"

"Heh, finally came out?"

Emrys wasn't surprised at all, calmly turning his gaze to the shadow hiding in the dark. 

"I thought you were going to hide in there forever, so—who are you?"

"Senior Haemonculus, and the Master of the Skull-Rift Corridor, the Howling Spire, Verion."

The figure in the shadow slowly spoke.

In the bloody laboratory, under the dim yellow lights.

A grotesque, terrifying humanoid creature slowly emerged, coming into Emrys' view.

It must be said that even though Emrys was accustomed to the alien, he was truly startled by this bastard, his pupils involuntarily constricting slightly as he took a quiet, sharp intake of breath.

"I apologize, it seems—my appearance has frightened you."

Virion's voice was deep but full of magnetism; if one disregarded his terrifying appearance and only listened to his voice, one might assume it belonged to a kind-faced elder.

Emrys twitched his lips.

How should he be described?

Virion's degree of modification almost completely exceeded conventional standards; even using 'Corleon' the Bloodkin as a benchmark, this older, more mature 'Bloodkin' who had lived for an unknown number of years, clearly leaned more towards what humans perceived as—a monster!

His two arms had been completely replaced by devices resembling lamprey mouths, composed of something that looked like metal yet also biological, while the main trunk of his body was draped in a black fabric robe embroidered with gold thread.

But these were not the main points.

Virion did not have legs, or rather—twelve metallic limbs, similar to those of an arthropod, attached to his spine, replaced them, and the parts below his waist were entirely replaced by a long metallic tail like that of a mollusk, making him look like an utterly insane aggregate of different organisms and metal.

Purely from the perspective of disgust.

Virion definitely ranked second among all the bizarre creatures Emrys had seen to date!

What?

You ask who was first?

Does that even need asking? Of course, it was the damn Nurgle cultist, the accursed Count Fernando of Roaming Port; his disgusting appearance made him unable to eat for three whole days!

"Mr. Emrys, I apologize to you on his behalf."

As Virion moved, relying on the twelve metallic arthropod-like limbs on his back, the sharp ends of the limbs scraped against the ground and walls, emitting an extremely unpleasant sound. 

"Please forgive his rudeness, and for my sake, please spare his life."

Although his words sounded humble, Emrys keenly detected a hint of chill within them.

Not strong, but very pure.

"Oh?"

Emrys' eyes narrowed slightly, his psychic energy slowly surging around him like undulating tides, and instead of releasing Corleon, whom he was stepping on, he slowly increased the pressure, saying with a twisted expression. 

"Let me spare him? Fine, don't say I'm unreasonable; give me a reason to spare him."

Crack!

Corleon's head was almost crushed by this force, viscous liquid flowed from his seven orifices, and the terrifying shadow of death, like a large net, tightly entangled him, almost suffocating him.

"Save—save me—Mentor.—"

Extreme fear showed in Corleon's insectoid compound eyes as he struggled to speak, pleading for help from this 'Mentor'.

"Mr. Emrys—"

Virion frowned; this was completely unexpected for him. He had thought that as long as he appeared, this human youngster would be sensible enough to release Corleon.

But he hadn't expected things to become complicated.

"Your Excellency Virion."

Emrys suddenly spoke, interrupting him, his voice deep and resolute. 

"I'm very curious, what he did—was it his own idea, or was it at your instruction?"

As soon as he entered here, he had sensed another aura hidden in the room.

Coupled with Corleon's relentless pressure, this made him entertain the idea that perhaps—Corleon was not the true mastermind!

After all, how could an existence capable of stopping several major conspiracy groups and concealing their whereabouts be just an ordinary Bloodkin?

Corleon looked very young and had few modified parts, which didn't fit the criteria. So Emrys decided to use this method to force out the person hiding behind the scenes.

It proved successful.

And when it came to the alien, Emrys' attitude had always been very firm.

What kind of thing was Corleon, daring to play obedience tests with him? It was like lighting a lamp in an outhouse—looking for shit!

He should go out and ask around; when had Emrys ever backed down?!

Hearing this, Virion was speechless. After a moment of silence, he slowly said. 

"Mr. Emrys, this is a misunderstanding, please give me some face."

"The last one who threatened me was cut down by me not long ago."

Emrys' eyes were savage, and he said coldly. 

"Let me give you face? old man, are you more powerful with Abaddon's background, or as strong as Angron?!"

Virion was speechless.

He thought about it and realized he genuinely wasn't as formidable as those two, neither in background nor in strength.

Considering the series of things this human had done since his appearance, his 'face' meant nothing!

"Mr. Emrys, please forgive his rudeness."

Despite being called an 'old man' to his face, Virion wasn't angry. He had long since discarded such useless emotions, so he quietly gazed at Emrys. 

"What he did was also at my instruction.

The purpose was to test you all. If you feel offended, I can offer appropriate compensation, how about that?"

Why didn't you say so earlier!

The chill on Emrys' face instantly melted away like spring snow, replaced by a kind smile. 

"Since Your Excellency Virion has said so,

I naturally have to give you face, after all, we are collaborators."

As he spoke, he slowly lifted his foot and took two steps back, showing his willingness first.

Corleon struggled like a wolf, crawling towards his mentor, his heart full of resentment. He turned and glared at Emrys, gnashing his teeth, as if he wished he could devour this bastard alive.

How dare he make him lose so much face? "Hmm? Still daring to glare at me?"

Emrys' expression suddenly changed. He raised his hand and delivered a slap, psychic energy coalescing into a form, striking Corleon's resentful face.

Slap!

Corleon's insectoid compound eyes, which he had implanted at great cost, were shattered by the slap. Pain invaded his brain, making him wail incessantly.

"This slap is on behalf of your mentor to teach you a lesson!"

Emrys said coldly. 

"You're a useless piece of trash, no strength and still daring to glare at me? If you dare to glare at me again, I'll rip your head off and send it to the Eldar of the Craftworld!"

This time, Corleon was truly afraid.

He would rather die than be sent to the Eldar of the Craftworld, so he could only look at his mentor with a wronged expression.

"Alright, get out."

However, Virion's expression was cold, as if he didn't care at all about Corleon being slapped. 

"There's nothing for you to do here. Just as Mr. Emrys said, remember clearly from now on who you can provoke and who you cannot, otherwise, I won't be able to protect you next time."

Seeing that his mentor said nothing more, Corleon could only pick up his shattered insectoid compound eyes with a wronged look and crawled out of the laboratory.

This is an old fox!

Emrys became extremely vigilant. This old man had never been provoked by his words from beginning to end, nor had he shown any anger. This alone was enough to make him take him seriously.

"Alright, Mr. Emrys."

Once Corleon left, Virion calmly and unhurriedly said. 

"Now, we can talk about business."

There seemed to be no flaw in Virion; even when faced with Emrys' insolence, he didn't seem to get angry.

And such a person was the most troublesome.

"Alright."

Emrys agreed.

"Please follow me, Mr. Emrys, and this Custodian, Lady Succubus, beside you." Virion's gaze swept over them, easily discerning Tyrax's identity. His twelve segmented limbs scraped against the ground as he turned and walked deeper into the laboratory. 

"This place is truly unfitting for my status as a guest reception area. I trust you wouldn't mind moving to another location, would you?"

From this, one could glimpse the noble heritage Virion possessed, inherited from the Old Eldar Imperium—refined and elegant, always maintaining rationality and ruthlessness. This was a feeling derived from his bloodline, something the current Dark Eldar could never compare to.

"Of course."

Emrys naturally wouldn't refuse.

After all, this place was too bloody. It wasn't that he couldn't accept it; he simply found it demeaning.

Led by Virion, they exited the laboratory through a back door, descended a spiral staircase, and arrived at a magnificent palace hall.

The dome soared over a hundred feet high, supported by suspended arches inlaid with entire amethyst skulls. Within the eye sockets of each skull, transparent, brilliant crystals were embedded, reflecting bright light.

The floor was covered with a dark red carpet, but these carpets seemed like living flesh. When stepped upon, as the footsteps rose and fell, occasional outlines of pained human faces would appear, only to quickly vanish.

In the niches of the walls on both sides stood suffering statues carved from adamantium and obsidian, each exquisitely artistic, seemingly possessing both aesthetics and divinity, religion and human ethics.

But without exception, all these statues had a real soul imprisoned within them, emitting a hauntingly beautiful lament in the candlelight's glow.

"This is where I usually entertain guests. Although it's rather simple, please bear with me, Mr. Emrys." Virion's tone was humble as he slowly sat in the main seat, then turned his head to a certain spot and nodded slightly.

Simple?

In Emrys' opinion, this had already surpassed the limits of human nobles' imagination.

The Dark Eldar, who found pleasure in pain, always managed to shock him.

Then, at Virion's signal, several female Eldar, like puppets, brought forth various drinks and delicacies.

"Please rest assured, Mr. Emrys."

Apparently considering Corleon's earlier rude behavior, Virion chuckled and explained, "These foods and beverages were all purchased from the Imperium of Man, specially chosen by me to suit human customs."

"Lord Virion, you seem very interested in humans?" Emrys picked up the wine glass in front of him, sniffed it under his nose to ensure it wasn't anything strange, and then took a sip.

"Because we are very similar, aren't we?"

Virion said with a faint smile, "The former Eldar Imperium was also similar to the current Imperium of Man. The only difference is that we have been buried in the long river of history, while you still exist."

"I love human art, including their pain and desires. These emotions always inspire my creativity, allowing me to create more perfect works of art—"

At this point, Virion showed a hint of apology. 

"I apologize, I shouldn't have mentioned these things in front of you. After all, no matter what, they are still your kind."

"Oh, it's nothing."

Emrys waved his hand, seemingly magnanimous, then said with a smile, "It's no big deal. There are so many humans, you can play with them however you like—besides, I've also killed quite a few Dark Eldar. We're even."

Virion's smile didn't falter. 

"That's good. I thought you were also one of those decadent humans."

"Of course, hahahaha—"

Emrys laughed heartily and raised his glass. 

"Come, I toast to you, Lord Virion."

"And to you, Mr. Emrys."

Virion also raised his glass in return.

To describe the two at the banquet as 'both host and guest enjoying themselves' was quite fitting.

However, the succubus Anna looked at Emrys, then at Virion, and couldn't help but shiver slightly.

Why, when these two were clearly smiling, did she always feel a chill, as if a knife was pressed against her throat?

"Lord Virion, you don't seem much like the Haemonculus I know." Emrys put down his wine glass and said with a knowing smile, "Oh?"

Virion showed a curious expression.

"According to my understanding, a Haemonculus would not save a foolish person, even if that person—was his disciple." Emrys was, of course, referring to Corleon.

It was hard to imagine that a cunning old fox like Virion would save Corleon.

"He owes me a large debt, and besides, it's very difficult to find a qualified assistant." Virion explained casually the reason he was willing to save Corleon. 

"When he was promoted to Haemonculus, he borrowed a large sum of money from me to modify his body. This debt has not yet been repaid, so of course, I couldn't let him die so easily."

"So that's it."

Emrys nodded slightly, understanding the reason.

How could Virion not know why this young man suddenly brought up Corleon? So, he said generously, "I already said earlier that I am willing to apologize to you on his behalf. Mr. Emrys, what do you want?"

"It's simple."

As Emrys spoke, he outlined several names in the air with psychic lightning. 

"I want the whereabouts of these people, including their addresses. I hope lord Virion can help me find them."

The list he provided was, of course, the names recorded on that 'parchment scroll'.

This place was also the location on the parchment scroll, meaning that to find these retired 'Thunder Warriors', one could only start here.

What Emrys lacked most now was necessary powerful combat strength. He had to get these people, no matter what.

Virion's gaze narrowed, noticing one of the names. 

"Theoris—I didn't expect Mr. Emrys to be looking for him among these people?"

"What, you know him?" Emrys was slightly surprised. Virion actually knew one person on this list, which was a bit strange.

"Heh heh, of course I know him." Virion said with a smile, "Theoris, champion of the Bloody Killing Fields, and the only person to walk out alive after winning one hundred and seventy-eight consecutive matches. How could I not know him?"

Speaking of this, he seemed to be lost in thought. 

"I still remember very clearly that day, the bells of the Howling Spire rang one hundred and seventy-eight times for free, and it cost me a lot of things."

"Lord Virion, could you tell me where he is currently?" Emrys narrowed his eyes and asked.

"Yes."

Virion said indifferently, "I can tell you their locations, but Mr. Emrys, they have borrowed a large sum of elixirs from me over the years to maintain their condition. This 'price'—are you willing to pay it on their behalf?"

The people, I can give them to you.

But the things, you have to repay for them!

This was Virion's meaning.

After all was said and done, it still came down to negotiating terms.

Emrys had anticipated this point, and without the slightest panic, he asked, "Lord Virion, let's be clear, what do you want?"

In Emrys' view, Virion went to great lengths, circling around for so long, with the sole purpose of asking him for something.

As for what this old 'Bloodreaver' desired... that was unknown, but he could vaguely guess a thing or two.

Whatever a Bloodreaver who had lived for countless years sought, it would inevitably involve trouble.

What a pity...

Emrys sighed softly.

If he weren't 'living under someone else's roof' right now, cornered by several major cabals, he would have long since flipped the table and punched this old geezer.

Feeling the faint chill emanating from Emrys, the succubus Anna couldn't help but shiver, silently praying in her heart, 'Please don't make a move!'

This 'Bloodreaver' was not the amateur from earlier.

Virion Fal, Master of the Shrieking Spire in the Cragged Labyrinth, and also the current Archon of the 'Retribution Witch cult,' was a terrifying existence that could be described as 'ancient' even among the Dark Eldar!

No one knew how long Virion Fal had lived.

Some speculated he had lived for at least a thousand years, because the Retribution Witch cult was founded a millennium ago.

Others guessed that Virion Fal's true name was not this at all; he was actually an old monster who had continuously prolonged his life using various technologies and methods since the secession of the Eldar Imperium.

However, none of these speculations had any actual evidence.

The only thing Anna knew was that the High Bloodreaver and Archon of the Retribution Witch cult, Virion Fal, was a lord whom even the Supreme Overlord Vect had to treat with solemnity and extreme politeness.

Anna suppressed the fear in her heart and desperately signaled Emrys with her eyes, 'Please, you must control your temper!'

Emrys, noticing Anna's terrified gaze, subtly twitched the corner of his mouth.

Wait, did he look like such a brainless person?

"Lord Virion, let's get straight to the point." He gently exhaled, his expression calm. 

"You should know that I don't have much time to waste."

"Hehe, of course, of course."

Virion smiled, but unhurriedly said, "But there's no need to rush; with me here... they won't find this place for now."

As the Master of the 'Cragged Labyrinth,' he still had that much confidence.

"Mr. Emrys, before that, please allow me to give a detailed self-introduction." A strange arc curved on Virion's pale lips. 

"After all, this matter... is also very much related to my identity."

Emrys sat up slightly, adopting a listening posture.

"As I said before, my name is Virion Fal."

A glint flashed in Virion's narrow eyes, and his entire demeanor seemed completely different, giving off an aura of supremacy, as if he were a hegemon ruling over a region. 

"But, I have hidden my true surname... Drukhari!"

Emrys looked bewildered and turned to Anna, hoping she could tell him what was special about this surname.

But unfortunately, Anna was equally confused.

"To think that this surname... is now unknown to anyone, how tragic."

Seeing their bewildered expressions, Virion couldn't help but show a hint of sorrow, his voice rather desolate. 

"The surname 'Drukhari' was once the builder of the ancient city of Commorragh, and also one of the royal families when the Eldar Imperium's glory still existed, and I... am the last surviving bloodline of this surname."

This news truly shocked Emrys.

"You mean, you are of the Eldar Imperium's royalty?"

He widened his eyes, staring at the terrifying being before him, almost completely transformed by bio-mechanical modifications, rendered unrecognizable.

"Hiss--"

Anna gasped.

This old geezer was indeed a 'monster'; could he have lived for ten thousand years?!

It should be known that while the Eldar's lifespan is long, it generally averages around two thousand years; even 'Bloodreavers' who undergo extensive modifications

It is very difficult to break the upper limit, most are around three or four thousand years, and this old geezer claims to be a descendant of the Drukhari, the builders of the ancient city of Commorragh... As far as she knew, that time point was at least ten thousand years ago!

"In a sense, I am no longer a 'Drukhari'."

Virion said indifferently.

As for the reason, it was actually very simple: he had undergone extensive modifications and no longer possessed a pure 'Drukhari' bloodline.

This 'surname' buried in history had long since been abandoned by him.

"So, you want me to help you regain control of Commorragh?" Emrys raised an eyebrow; if that were truly the case, he would rather give up.

Are you kidding? He was here to retrieve something, not to help someone with a political coup!

Furthermore, he didn't want to get involved in the internal strife among the Dark Eldar.

"No, you misunderstand."

Virion said calmly, "I stopped wanting to do that a long time ago. Besides, the Drukhari bloodline has disappeared; what good would it do to reclaim it?"

"Then what exactly do you want? Can you just say it directly?"

Emrys was already very annoyed by this old geezer's constant beating around the bush, and his tone naturally carried a hint of impatience.

"I apologize, with age, one always tends to reminisce about the past; this habit is not very good." Virion smiled, not minding his tone, and continued. 

"But what I said is not entirely irrelevant. Mr. Emrys, please bear with me for a moment and listen to me explain the whole story; then you can better judge whether you are willing to help me, isn't that right?"

With that, without waiting for Emrys' reply, he continued.

"Later, I reached an agreement with 'Vect'; he allowed and recognized my existence and status."

"And I, in turn, was responsible for some secret research, and it was precisely in these studies that I incidentally founded the current 'Retribution Witch cult,' dedicated to unlocking the ultimate mystery of death. Perhaps by finding this method, we can end the tragic future of the Dark Eldar."

"And it was during the process of this research that I finally caught a glimpse of a... an opportunity for the Eldar to rise again!"

Emrys suppressed the urge to complain and patiently waited for the old geezer to ramble on.

"But, this 'opportunity' was stolen by another 'Witch cult'."

At this point, Virion finally got to the main topic. 

"The cult of the Fallen Pinnacle, a Witch cult wholeheartedly embracing corruption and darkness, and the supporter behind this 'cult of the Fallen Pinnacle' is your greatest enemy—the Iron Thorns Cabal!"

"I hope to use your strength to reclaim the 'opportunity' that was stolen by the 'cult of the Fallen Pinnacle'."

Deep hatred and disgust showed in Virion's eyes. 

"From this perspective, we both share a common enemy, and are the most steadfast and reliable collaborators and partners, aren't we?"

"I think I get it."

After the old man's long-winded explanation, Emrys finally grasped the main point.

"You mean you want me to help you deal with the 'Fallen Peak Sect' and retrieve the 'opportunity' you speak of, the one that will restore the Eldar to glory, right?"

"Precisely, Mr. Emrys." Virion nodded, saying calmly, "But destroying the 'Fallen Peak Sect' would be very difficult, I'm afraid. Their power, backed by the 'Ironthorn Cabal,' has grown immensely. So, my request is merely to retrieve that 'opportunity,' which should be relatively easier for you."

Easier?

Hearing him make it sound so good, Emrys couldn't help but sneer.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else for this. Those people… I don't want them. You can do whatever you like with them." He paused, then raised an eyebrow, rising directly from his seat as if to leave. "Telarax, Anna, let's go."

His stance was so resolute that even Anna was taken aback.

"Wait… wait, Mr. Emrys."

Seeing that he seemed truly intent on leaving, the faint smile on Virion's lips instantly froze.

Why isn't this kid playing by the rules?

But he also knew he absolutely couldn't let Emrys leave, otherwise… it would truly be hopeless.

Suddenly, an extremely sharp metallic limb blocked Emrys' path as he tried to leave.

"Mr. Emrys!"

A low, somewhat stern voice reached their ears.

"What?" Emrys stopped, glancing at Virion out of the corner of his eye. "Are you going to resort to force, Mr.?"

Whoosh!

Telarax gripped his power glaive tightly, its edge glowing with brilliant light, and a chilling killing intent directly enveloped the Bloodletter.

"No, please don't misunderstand, Mr. Emrys."

Virion frowned slightly, sighed, and slowly retracted the metallic limb. "I am merely an ordinary Bloodletter, without the powerful strength of the Trueborn. The only reason I stopped you is because I had something to say."

A Bloodletter, without powerful strength?

That statement was only for listening; believing it would be a mistake… Emrys sneered inwardly, then said indifferently, "Oh? What does Lord Virion wish to say? If it's still about persuading me, then spare me."

"Mr. Emrys, even if you don't help me, you still have to meet Victor, don't you?"

Virion decided to attack from the side, saying, "But if you want to meet Victor, you must first deal with the people of the 'Fallen Peak Sect.' Otherwise… with them around, it will be very difficult for us to eliminate the Ironthorn Cabal, let alone meet Victor, isn't that right?"

Emrys turned to stare at him, saying coldly, "You make it sound so good, but aren't you still trying to send me to my death?"

He wasn't an idiot; an Ironthorn Cabal was already difficult enough to deal with.

What's more, a Bloodletter organization known for its Weird?

Which of these Bloodletters was easy to provoke? Why should he needlessly add trouble for himself?

"Since you want that 'opportunity' so badly…" Emrys said indifferently, "Why don't you go and seize it yourself? Don't tell me you can't do it."

Seeing that this kid was unyielding, Virion was truly getting a headache. He sighed, "Mr. Emrys, I truly cannot act myself. The reason is simple: I am the Archon of the 'Retribution of Heaven Sect.' Once I engage in battle with the 'Fallen Peak Sect,' it will inevitably draw in the neutral 'Conclave,' making the situation even more complicated. And I don't want them to know about the existence of this 'opportunity.' That's the first reason."

"As for the second reason, it's also simple: the power of the Retribution of Heaven Sect is far from what it once was."

"Otherwise… I wouldn't be stuck in this filthy place."

With that, Virion's gaze burned, fixed on Emrys. "But you are different. You don't belong to any faction, at least not openly. I can provide you with help secretly. This way, those neutral Conclaves won't get involved. Whether you eliminate them or steal it… the process is up to you. I only want the result. How about it?"

Virion believed he had made himself very clear, but unfortunately… Emrys still had other ideas.

"I'm sorry, I refuse." He replied coldly, then turned to leave.

Only then did Virion finally panic. The always calm expression on his face changed slightly, a hint of anger showing in his eyes.

His voice suddenly rose, exploding like a thunderstorm in the hall. 

"Emrys, if you leave here, you'll never see Victor again!"

Yes, faced with the unyielding Emrys, he could only bring out his final trump card.

Hearing this, Emrys paused, tilting his head slightly. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, this isn't a threat, it's a plea."

Virion said in a deep voice, "As long as you are willing to help me retrieve the 'opportunity'… I am willing to pay any price!"

"You're using this to threaten me?"

Emrys' eyes glinted coldly, and he said indifferently, "But unfortunately, you're wrong… Victor, if I can see him, I will. If I can't… then you all just wait. Wait until I bring the human fleet to flatten Commorragh."

"Human fleet?"

Virion sneered, "They can't possibly find Commorragh, and besides… Humans wouldn't be so foolish as to go to war with the entire Dark Eldar for just one person. Don't forget Chaos, the Necrons, the Orks, and the Tyranids are all lurking!"

"You're right, under normal circumstances, they wouldn't do that for just one person."

Emrys was fearless, his tone calm. "But do you know why I want to see Victor?"

Virion frowned. He only knew that Victor wanted to see this human, but the specific reason wasn't very clear to him.

"Because the Imperium of Man's 'Astronomican' has gone out."

Emrys made a gesture of blowing out a flame, then a sinister and crazed expression appeared on his face. "The Astronomican has gone out, and the method to relight it is in Victor's hands. This is why I came here. So the question is… In Virion's eyes, Emrys at this moment seemed enveloped by endless killing intent, a sea of blood churning and roaring, engulfing the entire hall."

"How about you guess…" Emrys grinned, his eyes filled with violent rage. "If I can't see Victor, and I can't relight the Astronomican, will the Imperium of Man, in a desperate bid for a glimmer of hope, commit a final act of madness? For example… fight another War in Heaven with you, until the entire Milky Way Galaxy shatters?"

Hearing this, Virion's pupils constricted sharply. He finally realized the gravity of the situation.

The Astronomican of the Imperium of Man going out meant that… this massive War Machine, which now occupied the largest territory in the Milky Way Galaxy, would completely enter a state of madness. And in this situation, any entity that dared to provoke it would have to endure its terrifying fire!

Could the Dark Eldar endure it?

He asked himself, finding it very difficult. The only thing they could rely on was that Commorragh, located deep within the Webway, wouldn't be found by the Imperium of Man.

But Emrys seemed to have seen through his thoughts, as orange lightning sparked from his fingertips.

Then, under Virion's gaze, his fingertips traced an arc in the void, forming a bright 'teleportation gate'!

"Are you perhaps thinking that Commorragh is deep in the Webway, and the Imperium of Man can't find it?"

Emrys' upturned lips were almost reaching his ears, and he seemed to be enveloped in a black aura, emitting a chilling voice. 

"I'm sorry, from the moment I set foot on Commorragh, you… have already been in the eyes of the Imperium of Man."

"Do not doubt our resolve, Lord Virion."

"At worst… we'll sink Commorragh, shatter the Milky Way Galaxy. If we are to perish, other races must die too!"

Does Virion dare to gamble?

No, he doesn't.

Even if he knows the probability is less than one percent, he doesn't dare to gamble on the remaining ninety-nine percent, because he cannot afford to lose!

No race is willing to face the full wrath of the Imperium of Man!

The reason is simple: the Eldar Imperium, once the overlord of the Milky Way Galaxy, has long since declined, but the current overlord of the Milky Way Galaxy is still alive and well!

Yes, you could say that the Imperium of Man is corrupt, decadent, bloated, rigid, and heading towards its demise.

You could even say that the Imperium of Man is not the overlord of the Milky Way Galaxy, because it has never fully conquered the other races within the Milky Way Galaxy.

Chaos, Orks, Eldar, Tyranids, Necrons, including the Tau, who have just emerged on the edge of the Milky Way Galaxy—it seems as if any faction can challenge the Imperium of Man, and the bloated and corrupt Imperium of Man seems helpless against them.

But this comes with a prerequisite.

This prerequisite is that the Imperium of Man's territory and the situations it faces are hundreds of times more severe than those of the former Eldar and Necrons!

Under this prerequisite, the Imperium of Man is neither able nor allowed to gather all its strength and commit it to a single War.

This means that, on the surface, the Imperium of Man appears to be challenged by anyone.

But is this really the case?

If you look at the Imperium of Man from the perspective of an alien, you will find that it is simply a terrifying War Machine!

From the moment they left the Sun, they have been conquering, slaughtering, and exterminating; the number of xenos who have died at the hands of humans is countless, and even the powerful 'C'tan Imperium' was utterly destroyed by humans with immense sacrifice.

Looking across the Milky Way Galaxy, where is there a race as warlike as humans?!

Their history is the history of burying xenos; it is a throne built from the bones and blood and tears of countless xenos!

From south to north, from east to west.

Human armies are everywhere, human fleets span the Milky Way Galaxy; they are fighting Chaos, fighting Orks, fighting Necrons, fighting Eldar, and even conquering!

From the perspective of an alien, in this Milky Way Galaxy, the largest and most terrifying race is this Imperium called Man!

The Dark Eldar are secluded in one corner, and their greatest reliance is not the title of Eldar Imperium elder, but this perfect safe harbor.

But now, Emrys has brutally torn away the last shred of Virion's deep-seated pride.

That orange portal, like a sharp knife, pierced through Virion's hidden pride and shattered his beliefs.

Commorragh is no longer their safe harbor!

As Emrys said, he was the one with no choice, or rather—it was the Dark Eldar who were driven to a dead end!

Losing the light of the 'Astronomican' means that the Imperium of Man will repeat the mistakes of the Age of Strife ten millennia ago, and this is tantamount to destruction.

So the question arises.

What kind of insane actions would such a powerful and terrifying Imperium take before its demise?

The answer is... take everyone down with it!

Since I'm going to die, none of you will have an easy time—this is the terrifying behavior the Imperium of Man would exhibit before its end.

Once it really happens—

Thinking of this outcome, Virion couldn't help but shiver; he was certain that, while he didn't know the situation of the others, the Dark Eldar would most likely become the first target for the Imperium of Man to unleash its wrath.

In the past 'skirmishes', the Dark Eldar might have gained an advantage, but if they were to face the full force of the entire Imperium of Man's retaliation, let alone the Dark Eldar, even if the Eldar Imperium were resurrected, it would probably be a struggle.

Before Virion was a simple multiple-choice question, but the cost of choosing wrong might be the entire Dark Eldar race!

Just as Emrys was about to step out of the hall, he heard a sigh from behind him, seemingly mixed with deep unwillingness, yet also a sense of helplessness.

"I concede."

Emrys stopped, a slight smile playing on his lips.

This was like a gamble.

The difference was that on their gambling table, the stakes were two major races, and the losing side had to pay the price of mutual destruction. The result was just as Emrys expected: he dared to gamble with the fate of the Imperium of Man, but Virion could not do the same; he didn't dare—so he lost.

"You won, Lord Emrys." Virion seemed to have aged more than ten years, his eyes filled with weariness and desolation, and he laughed mockingly. 

"Our era, after all, has ended."

The once glorious Eldar Imperium, now—couldn't even scare a single human.

Emrys sat back down at the negotiating table.

However, what was different from before was that this time, he held the right to speak. This was also why Emrys had to be firm and refuse Virion's proposal.

The key was not whether this matter could be accomplished.

Rather, it was about who held the initiative, which was very important for the subsequent plan. Emrys had to ensure that he would not become a pawn in the hands of the various Dark Eldar Kabals.

He was also a player in this game.

Virion recognized this, or rather, was forced to recognize it. He could only choose to withdraw, handing over control of this game to Emrys.

Virion, having already made concessions, looked at Emrys and suddenly had a hope: how good it would be if he were Eldar…?

But then, he shook his head bitterly.

Impossible, the Dark Eldar have long fallen, immersed in pleasure; even if there were such an excellent young man, he would only fall into the abyss of desire in such an environment.

From the moment the Dark Eldar secluded themselves in one corner, it was destined that it would be difficult for them to restore the former glory of the Eldar Imperium.

"Mr. Emrys—"

Virion pondered for a few seconds, still unwilling to give up, and then said. 

"I can hand over those few people to you, and as for their debts, consider them my apology for my previous foolishness, but—I sincerely hope that you can help me regain that 'opportunity'; I am willing to pay any price for it, and I mean 'any'!"

He deliberately emphasized his tone, showing his determination.

Virion looked at Emrys with a mixture of hope, even longing, and a faint hint of pleading, hoping to receive his reply.

Tap, tap, tap—.

His knuckles rhythmically tapped the tabletop, each sound seemingly knocking on Virion's heart, and the atmosphere gradually grew tense.

Under Virion's nervous gaze, Emrys' expression was calm. He slowly leaned back in his chair, his right leg crossed over his left, his fingers intertwined and flat, and then he said in a calm, composed tone. 

"Lord Virion, from beginning to end, you have not shown the respect you should have. You are asking me for a favor, yet you have not treated me as a friend, and you are not even willing to call me 'Lord'. This makes me feel—that you are very rude."

What goes around, comes around?

This is it!

Not long ago, Verion's disciple, Corleon, had tried to make Emrys submit with a glass of 'Howling Smoothie'.

Now, it was his turn.

Almost the same action, representing the same meaning—a test of obedience!

The difference was, Emrys had the confidence and courage to refuse, but he—Verion sighed softly, a complex expression in his eyes.

He spoke softly. 

"Lord Emrys, I implore you, help me reclaim the 'Opportunity' that was stolen from us by the 'Fallen Peak School'. I am willing to pay any price."

Unlike Corleon.

Verion could afford to lose. Since he had already bowed his head, he might as well bow all the way. There was no need to invite more trouble for a bit of 'dignity'.

"Even your loyalty?"

Emrys tapped the table, a playful expression on his face, looking at Verion with a half-smile.

He was probing.

Probing what this cunning Bloodkin's bottom line truly was, and what he was willing to pay for this 'Opportunity'!

"Yes."

Verion didn't hesitate, didn't even take time to think, and nodded affirmatively. 

"If you can reclaim the 'Opportunity', even if the price is—that twelve Bloodkin in the 'Avengers Retribution School', including myself, submit to you!"

"What nerve!"

Emrys couldn't help but be shocked by the old man's audacity.

For this 'Opportunity', he was actually willing to submit to a human. This was extremely rare, almost impossible, for the proud Spirit Race, yet Verion actually agreed.

"Please do not doubt my resolve, Lord Emrys." Seeing the shock in Emrys' eyes, Verion's lips curled slightly, feeling much happier. 

"As I said, as long as you can reclaim that 'Opportunity' for us, the entire 'Avengers Retribution School' will be very happy to serve you."

"This is no small matter, Lord Verion." Emrys tapped the table, his brows furrowed slightly. 

"To reclaim the 'Opportunity' you speak of, it will inevitably mean opposing this school, and may even attract other witch covens to join. I must consider it carefully."

"Lord Emrys, even if you are unwilling to do so, you will still be opposed to them!" Verion saw that the conversation had reached this point, and Emrys was still hesitating, and he immediately became anxious, trying to explain the relationship. 

"The Ironthorn Conspiracy and the Fallen Peak School Witch Coven have a very deep cooperation. There is no possibility of reconciliation between you and the Ironthorn Conspiracy, which means you will inevitably offend the Fallen Peak School Witch Coven!"

"Lord Verion, you must understand one thing: there are no eternal friends, only eternal interests." Emrys tapped the table, interrupting Verion, and said lightly. 

"Although there is no possibility of cooperation between me and the Ironthorn Conspiracy, that doesn't mean I also have to be at odds with the Bloodkin Witch Coven, does it?"

Verion opened his mouth, finding himself speechless. The cunningness of this young man was simply maddening!

He had originally thought that he could use the relationship between the Ironthorn Conspiracy and the Fallen Peak School to successfully provoke Emrys into helping him reclaim the 'Opportunity'.

But he didn't expect that the other party wouldn't fall for it at all!

In a few words, he distinguished the two and even pointed out the most crucial issue—interest!

Yes, where are there eternal friends?

Especially the Dark Spirit Race. Even if the Ironthorn Conspiracy has always supported the Fallen Peak School from behind, that doesn't mean they cannot be divided, nor does it mean that the Bloodkin Witch Coven has to get involved in this matter!

"Alright, Lord Verion."

Emrys was too lazy to waste more words with this old fox, so he said directly. 

"I will seriously consider this matter. Even if I ultimately refuse, I will help you within my capabilities, but for now—I need the locations of these people on this list."

His most important task at the moment was to see the imprisoned High Executor 'Victor', not to help some Verion and needlessly create more enemies for himself. This did not align with his philosophy.

Of course, if this 'Fallen Peak School' Witch Coven insisted on interfering with this matter and stood in his way, Emrys wouldn't mind eliminating this school.

Seeing his firm attitude and genuine expression, Verion could only sigh bitterly in his heart, knowing that if he insisted further, it would likely be counterproductive, so he could only temporarily put the matter aside.

"Lord Emrys, these are the locations of several people on the list—" He elegantly wrote a line of words with ink on a piece of human skin, then handed it to Emrys, his tone suddenly becoming more severe. 

"But there is one thing I must remind you."

"Please speak, Lord Verion."

Emrys glanced at it, then, feeling a bit disgusted, handed the human skin to Anna.

"I don't know what the identities of these people are, but—they are very dangerous!"

At this point, Verion's expression was grave, and his voice unconsciously deepened. 

"They have undergone a large number of—hmm, non-human technological modifications. Their emotions are extremely volatile and they are extremely prone to losing control. It is very difficult to communicate with them normally. Although their combat power is very strong, they are—very dangerous! Very dangerous! If you insist on looking for them, my suggestion is—be sure to take safety precautions!"

For a high-ranking Bloodkin to give such evaluations as 'non-human technological modifications', 'extremely dangerous', 'extremely volatile', and 'uncontrollable', it shows just how much the Emperor of that year—Emrys really couldn't comment.

From a human perspective, they were indeed the greatest contributors, whose achievements were undeniable. But from their perspective—the Emperor treated them as tools, used and then discarded!

It was normal to have resentment.

"Alright, I've noted it."

Emrys nodded, then stood up again. 

"Then, I will take my leave for now, Mr. Verion."

"Lord Emrys, I hope—you will seriously consider my proposal."

Verion took a deep breath and said. 

"I can assure you that our reward will absolutely be worth the price you pay!"

Emrys looked at them deeply, then slowly nodded. 

"Alright, I will seriously consider your proposal."

"I'll have Corleon see you out."

Verion waved his hand.

Corleon limped out from the shadows, his eyes no longer holding the arrogance and resentment from before, only fear and respect.

If his own mentor was so humble, how could he possibly provoke him?

"See to Lord Emrys well."

Verion's gaze was indifferent, his voice cold. 

"This is your only chance. If you cannot satisfy Lord Emrys, you—will have no need to live, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, Mentor."

Corleon swallowed, walked humbly to Emrys, and forced a fawning expression. 

"Lord Emrys, please follow me. I will take you to this place."

It proved that if a tree isn't pruned, it grows crooked; if a person isn't disciplined, they act foolishly—see? After a few slaps, the arrogant young Bloodkin immediately improved his attitude, didn't he?

"Not bad, you have a future."

Emrys patted his shoulder. 

"But I still prefer your initial arrogant look. How about—you revert to it?"

The address Verion recorded on the human skin was located in the lower level of the 'Skull-Splitter Corridor', which is the second level of the Dark Killing Field, the Meat Hook black Market!

The Meat Hook black Market is a large, abandoned battleship, suspended below the Spine Corridor by chains. It is famous for the countless alloy meat hooks hanging from its rusted bridge beams, where troublemakers, those unable to repay debts, and slaves are hung to await death by desiccation.

These dense, sharp hooks drip with thick, putrid blood, which falls onto the ship's surface armor and the makeshift ground, forming a viscous, foul-smelling river of blood. Large fans and ventilation ducts around the area blow out scorching steam, ensuring the stench of decay constantly lingers in the air.

Emrys frowned slightly, covering his nose, and puffed, "They're here?"

"That's right, lord Emrys." Ever since he was 'educated' twice by a slap to the face, Corleon's attitude had become extremely respectful and humble. It was unclear if he feared Emrys, or if he feared being tormented by his mentor for failing to repay his debts.

"They've always been in the Meat Hook black Market. Only when 'serums' are needed each month does the mentor send me here to meet with one of them," he explained honestly.

"Since you know your mentor, why don't they stay on the upper level?" Emrys asked, a little puzzled. "Also, Lord Verion doesn't look like a great philanthropist who would provide them with serums for free?"

"Of course it's not free, lord Emrys." Corleon shook his head and said, "There's a price. Whenever someone achieves continuous Leap in the Skull-Splitter Corridor's arena, the mentor will have them take action to help the mentor eliminate that person. This way, the Skull-Splitter Corridor arena can ensure continuous income and won't have too many 'escapees'. Their return will also become a 'draw', attracting more nobles to the Skull-Splitter Corridor arena, which is considered an agreement between the mentor and them."

After listening, Emrys understood.

It was pure organizer manipulation. Whenever a champion with continuous victories had the potential to leave the 'Skull-Splitter Corridor Arena', powerful snipers would be dispatched to eliminate the opponent physically.

Moreover, as a 'former champion' who had achieved over 170 consecutive victories and left the arena in an unprecedented manner, he could also serve as an excellent draw, attracting a large audience.

It could only be said that Verion had mastered the manipulative tactics of his previous life.

As for Corleon, the Bloodling who had taken her 'job' and was even more humble and of higher status, Anna showed disdain, but at the same time, a sense of crisis surged within her.

This was a major crisis!

Anna knew that her value in Emrys' heart was already not high. If even these few remaining tasks were taken away by others, she might be the next one to be abandoned!

"There's another reason, Lord Emrys!"

With that thought, Anna eagerly showed off. 

"The Meat Hook black Market is a mixed bag, the gathering place of the lower levels of the Dark Killing Field. It's easier to hide one's identity here, and there are many goods that are difficult to circulate on the market that can be bought. These people are probably here for these reasons."

Having said that, Anna provocatively glanced at Corleon, whose face was ashen.

Corleon's expression was sinister, and a silent sneer crossed his lips. Their gazes met in the void, each discerning the other's thoughts.

Leaving aside the silent confrontation between them.

Upon entering the black market, there were still many meat hooks, conspicuously hanging from the ceiling, but what was hanging on them was neither criminals from outside nor livestock, but living, live biological exhibits.

For example, flayed Orcs, screaming continuously due to amplified pain nerves; humans implanted with pleasurable emotions, smilingly auctioning off their bodies; a Tyranid, fully dissected to reveal its internal organs, yet still remarkably vital; and even a few extremely rare Necrons!

"Lord Emrys, this is one of the black market's trading areas." With the urgency of competing with Anna, Corleon became more proactive. Without waiting for Emrys to ask, as soon as he noticed Emrys' gaze lingering for more than a second, he immediately began to explain. 

"These creatures are all commodities, modified in various ways. Generally, only the lower-class Dark Eldar of mixed blood will buy them to fill their lacking 'pain' and other clear sensations."

Anna, just about to speak, was cut off by Corleon. Her eyelids twitched, and she glared at him resentfully.

Corleon sneered but ignored her, continuing to bow and scrape, as respectful as a slave. 

"Lord Emrys, please follow me. Ahead is the core area of the Meat Hook black Market, but there's still a defense mechanism."

This defense mechanism was actually the corridor leading to the rest of the upper levels in the battleship's cargo hold, but the difference was that it was densely covered with terrifying neural spikes.

"Lord Emrys, these are neural spikes. Anyone who approaches without paying the 'entrance tax' will have these spikes pierce their spine, forcing them into a frantic dance until they twist their spine in agony, all for the entertainment of the audience inside."

"Please wait a moment, lord Emrys."

As he spoke, he puffed out his chest, strode to the entrance, and without a word, raised his hand and slapped the two Dark Eldar guards across their faces.

The guards at the entrance were stunned.

Who are you?

Not a word, just a few slaps!

But before they could get angry, Corleon removed his hood, revealing his face, and in a cold, hoarse voice like a vengeful spirit, he said, "Get out!"

Seeing that it was the 'Bloodling', the two guards immediately lowered their heads, quickly went to operate the instrument, and opened the passage for them.

Then, Corleon, full of arrogance, turned back to Emrys' side, bent his straightened back again, rubbed his hands respectfully, and humbly said, "Lord Emrys, please."

This… is this still the Bloodling?!

Not only Anna, but even the Dark Eldar guards were shocked by his behavior.

Someone who could make a Bloodling so humble… could it be a great noble of top bloodline?!

Thinking of this, they dared not lift their heads even more, wishing they could bury their heads in their necks, fearing to attract the attention of this great noble of top bloodline.

In Commorragh, a place that emphasizes bloodline, hybrids like them, born from artificial wombs, could be said to have no status whatsoever.

It was common for them to be casually killed by top nobles over a very minor matter.

Although Emrys took this scene in, a ripple of thought arose in his heart, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

The system of slaves and slave owners…

This gave him a reminder. Perhaps these oppressed people were not as submissive and calm as they appeared on the surface.

If handled properly, perhaps he could seize the opportunity to stir up some trouble and let the high and mighty nobles of Commorragh witness what 'dragon-slaying techniques' from the 2K era looked like!

Oppression breeds rebellion.

And rebellion breeds new life, doesn't it?

Want to experience the nine-year compulsory Dragon Slaying Art?

Emrys pondered, ignoring Corleone, who looked humble and fawning, and walked straight to the two gatekeepers kneeling on the ground, bowing their heads.

"M-lord—"

The two half-breed Dark Eldar gatekeepers trembled, bowing their heads even lower, knocking them on the ground, a mix of humility and fear.

"Don't be afraid of me." Emrys controlled his voice, creating a gentle tone, slowly bent down, and patted their shoulders. 

"This is your duty, there's no need to be afraid. You've done very well, and I thank you for your contributions to Commorragh. It should be me thanking you."

At this, the two gatekeepers became even more terrified.

Looking at the two trembling figures, Emrys sighed helplessly.

The fear of pure-blooded nobles was an instinct carved into the souls of these low-ranking, half-breed Dark Eldar.

It would be difficult to change it in a short time. But fortunately, Emrys didn't really intend to help them. His goal was to disrupt Commorragh, the more chaotic the better, preferably to let the top nobles fall into internal strife. This was the result he wanted to see.

As for the consequences such actions would have on these people—sorry, that was not within his scope of consideration.

After all, he was a Human Supremacist.

"Get up, I won't blame you."

Emrys' voice was soft, mixed with a hint of deep regret. 

"It's a pity. You are the true heroes who have sacrificed for Commorragh, spilling your lives, yet—you don't receive the treatment you deserve. Alas."

After saying this, he maintained an air of mystery, and while the two gatekeepers were still in a daze, he entered the passage.

What did this great noble say?

He said… they were the true heroes of Commorragh?

This sentence was like a drop of water falling into a still lake, creating ripples.

It was as if a voice was saying, he's right, but another fear from the soul drowned out that 'terrifying' thought. The gatekeepers continued to bow their heads.

The Haemonculus sneered as he walked past them, and even the Succubus let out a laugh, completely disregarding them.

Emrys, walking ahead, had a slight smile on his lips.

This was just the beginning, he thought—he might have found a way to break through these power groups, led by the Iron Thorns Cabal.

Since ancient times, what has dictated the lifespan of an Imperium has never been the upper echelons, but rather the lower classes. When rage accumulates to a limit, then it only takes a spark to ignite it.

Emrys' eyes were deep. He hoped—they wouldn't blame him for abusing this trick.

As his thoughts drifted, Corleone stopped at a fork in the road, hesitatingly saying. 

"Lord Emrys, two hundred meters ahead from here,

is—the location on the address."

"Why aren't you going in?"

Anna saw him flinch, sneered, and was about to lead the way, hoping to gain some favor with lord Emrys.

But as soon as she moved, Corleone stopped her.

"Stop!" the Haemonculus said, his voice cold and chilling. 

"You cannot go in, and I cannot go in. Only lord Emrys, and his bodyguard, can enter!"

"Why?"

Anna asked impatiently, glaring fiercely at him, thinking Corleone was deliberately trying to make things difficult for her.

However, Corleone ignored her and turned to lord Emrys, saying in a deep voice. 

"Lord Emrys, it's not that we don't dare to go in,

but—that bastard, he's almost always in a state of madness. Even when he's lucid, he absolutely forbids any alien to step in here."

He paused, fearing that lord Emrys would think he was incompetent, and quickly explained. 

"Lord Emrys, I'm not lying. Previously, one of my mentor's disciples, when delivering medicine, rashly stepped in here, and then—he was torn to shreds. That's why this warning was put in place."

"I understand."

Emrys nodded, signaling for Terralox to also stay here, to avoid unnecessary conflict.

A mad Thunder Warrior was not someone to be trifled with. If he were human, it would be one thing—but if he were a Custodian, that would be a different matter entirely.

It was very likely that upon seeing a Custodian, these Thunder Warriors would become even crazier!

After all, in the Battle of Mount Ararat, the ones responsible for the slaughter of the Thunder Warriors were the Custodians!

Although the reasons behind it were somewhat deserved, and it was the Custodians who granted them mercy, this event still remained a painful and unforgettable memory for many Thunder Warriors. "Yes."

Terralox's response was still brief and powerful, without any unnecessary words.

Anna, who didn't know the details, saw him about to go in alone and cried out in surprise. 

"Lord Emrys, you're going in alone? No, that's too dangerous!"

She was now tied to lord Emrys on the same boat; if anything happened to lord Emrys, she would be doomed too!

But Emrys had made up his mind. 

"Yes, you and he stay here. I'll go in alone; it's safer that way."

It would be amusing if the Thunder Warrior saw him followed by a Succubus.

This fork in the road led to a place where crude houses made of tin and cardboard were everywhere, like a small settlement. And just as Corleone said, the only race visible here was Human.

Although most of the Humans looked emaciated, malnourished, and their skin was extremely white from long-term lack of Sun exposure,

compared to the chaotic and filthy races outside, it was already considered very good.

Emrys even saw a few children here!

These Humans were extremely wary of the sudden intrusion of this 'creature,' but only the children timidly watched him, each hiding in their parents' arms, their eyes wide with curiosity as they looked at this tall creature.

When Emrys had walked about a hundred meters, a figure, extremely burly but also covered by a wide grey robe and hood, suddenly blocked his path.

"Who are you?"

As he spoke, his voice was like the grinding of coarse stones, deep and hoarse, mixed with an unsettling savagery, as if a beast ready to rampage and devour at any moment.

"I am a Human."

Emrys said, taking off his hood, revealing his Human face.

"Nonsense!"

The man's tone was still impolite, and his savagery intensified. 

"If you weren't Human, I would have torn you to shreds the moment you stepped in here!"

As he uttered these words, Emrys could already feel the killing intent surrounding him growing thicker.

"The Haemonculus outside, the Succubus, and that other guy with an annoying aura, who are they? What is your relationship with them?"

The man revealed a mouthful of blackened teeth, and from his burly body emanated a vast and terrifying killing intent. 

"You'd better be honest, otherwise… I don't mind pulling your head off!"

Although being seen was within Emrys' expectations, fortunately—the other party clearly hadn't discovered Terralox's true identity.

"Cassius Voren, Jane, Theoris, Mark, Wang—" Emrys' eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at the burly man in front of him. 

"Which one are you?"

The next moment.

The man suddenly raised his hand, and five thick, calloused fingers shot out like lightning, grabbing Emrys' neck and slamming him against the warship's wall.

Bang!

The immense force almost embedded Emrys in the wall, but fortunately, this body was strong, only feeling a slight pain.

"Who exactly are you?!"

The man was like a ferocious beast, his low roar causing the surrounding air temperature to drop.

Emrys, with his neck clutched, showed no panic on his face. He smiled and said. 

"Thunder Warriors, have you… forgotten the dream of successive Legion Masters to unify Terra?"

Unity?

Unity!

The pure gothic pronunciation was like a sharp spear, piercing the heart of this burly, beast-like strong man.

Bloody memories and pain, like surging tides, instantly drowned him!

At the same time.

The most painful memory, buried deep within him, was also unearthed.

The Battle of Mount Ararat!

The end of the Thunder Warriors, and the battle where these 'tools' lost their value.

The Emperor ordered the Custodes to slaughter them.

He Carnageed those warriors who had gone mad, granting them their final mercy.

But the painful memories lingered like a nightmare, haunting his mind, refusing to forgive him even after ten thousand years.

The Battle of Mount Ararat was both the burial of the Thunder Warriors' past, their blood and suffering for the unification of Holy Terra, and the beginning of another, more excellent 'tool' officially taking the stage.

"Unity? Unity! Unity?"

"You—are not worthy of uttering that word, Tyrant!"

"Ah ah ah—!!!"

Suddenly, the burly strong man in front of Emrys clutched his head in pain, letting out a terrifying roar, and the horrific killing intent brewing in his eyes even caused the surrounding temperature to drop sharply.

Not good!

Emrys' pupils constricted, and with his excellent awareness, he immediately bent down.

Boom!

Immediately after, a fist, like a cannonball fired from a barrel, grazed Emrys' scalp and slammed into the hard metal wall.

Its terrifying power even caused spiderweb-like cracks to appear in the battleship's composite metal wall!

"Tyrant!!!" However, the strong man who threw the punch seemed to feel no pain. His five thick, calloused fingers once again clenched into a fist, and he stepped forward with all his might. 

"How—dare—you—appear—before—us—again?!"

Looking at the killing intent in the strong man's eyes, his bloodshot, distorted pupils, and his seemingly insane roar, Emrys knew that he had most likely been mistaken for a 'yellow-skinned one.'

???

But unfortunately, the other party didn't give Emrys a chance to explain.

Although he had long understood that Thunder Warriors' emotions were easily agitated, he didn't expect—that a single sentence could enrage the opponent, causing him to lose control and go berserk.

"No wonder the yellow-skinned one abandoned them." Emrys took the punch head-on, his arm was numb from the shock, and he was sent flying backward, slamming hard into the battleship's wall.

"Hiss, what great strength!" He couldn't help but click his tongue, shaking his numb arm, feeling a bit of pain in his back. He thought that if it weren't for psionic protection, it would have been more than just this simple.

However, little did he know that this action of his had brought him even greater trouble.

The strong man paused for a few seconds, and the ferocity in his violent gaze suddenly surged. His entire aura became completely different from the resentful one he had before.

If one had to say...

It was probably like the strong man had now transformed into a true warrior.

"Sorcerous Tyrant?"

From the strong man's mouth, several heavy sounds, like boulders crashing into a valley, mixed with a monstrous killing intent, as if a deeply buried memory had been stirred, came out.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!!!"

"For—Terra!!!"

The next moment, the strong man's speed was like he had a rocket launcher attached. His foot stomped down, and the hard ground cracked. A terrifying wave of air exploded, combined with a horrifying fist, appearing before Emrys in an instant!

Oh no, this is bad!

Emrys' face changed drastically. He had forgotten the most important thing: these Thunder Warriors—their initial targets of conquest were the Sorcerous Tyrants of Terra.

And sorcery, to describe it more accurately now, was actually psionics.

But there was no time for him to think too much, because the fist of this Thunder Warrior was already approaching his face.

Emrys lowered himself, and using the opponent's punching motion, he grabbed his arm and directly flung him away.

Looking at the Thunder Warrior in the ruins, he couldn't help but feel a headache. 

"Calm down, I'm not a Sorcerous Tyrant, and Terra was unified long ago!"

But unfortunately, for the Thunder Warrior who was already caught in a hallucination, his words all turned into the bewitchment of the Sorcerous Tyrant.

"Charge! Charge!"

He struggled to his feet in the ruins, still like a bloodthirsty beast, his rough and hoarse voice echoing in this narrow human settlement.

"For Terra!"

"For Terra!"

"For—Terra!!!"

He kept repeating the monotonous words, just as he had in the past. His body, plagued by illness, also erupted with its former strength at this moment.

It was this strength that unified Terra!

It rekindled the fire of civilization for humanity, ignited hope, and forged a solid path to a bright future for humanity with blood and sacrifice.

In their brief exchange, Emrys discovered that the Thunder Warriors' style was completely different from that of the Space Marines.

If Space Marines tended towards precise coordination and tacit tactical movements to suppress targets, then Thunder Warriors were extreme violence, pure power and speed overwhelming, coupled with their early equipment scarcity, and countless times enduring the baptism of blood and fire in the Terra Unification Wars, forging an almost abnormal combat intuition!

Fighting a Thunder Warrior felt to Emrys like fighting a mad beast with human intelligence.

The Thunder Warrior in front of him completely disregarded his injuries, and repeatedly made moves to trade injuries, or even trade his life for injuries!

It seemed that, in the mind of this Thunder Warrior who had lost his sanity and was enveloped by hallucinations, their lives were the necessary price to pave the way for victory!

"There's no other way."

Emrys sighed softly.

He had originally wanted to talk properly, using the word 'unity' to bridge their relationship, but he didn't expect—that a single sentence would drive the person to lose his mind.

"Don't blame me; you brought this upon yourself." Immediately, faint golden lines appeared in his eyes. Every move the Thunder Warrior made next unfolded before him like a painting.

He wanted to communicate properly.

But since the other party couldn't understand human words, then he, Emrys, who also knew a bit of fisticuffs, had no choice.

"Come on, fight!"

Emrys beckoned to the Thunder Warrior with his fingers, a highly provocative gesture.

"Sorcerous Tyrant, your reign ends here—!!!" This action completely enraged the Thunder Warrior. He roared like a cannonball, his powerful body actually breaking the sound barrier, and amidst the exploding air current, he swung a huge metal beam he had found in the ruins towards Emrys' head.

However, his movements were already anticipated by Emrys. He simply tilted his head slightly and dodged the sweeping steel beam.

Immediately after, the Thunder Warrior suddenly threw a pebble he had casually picked up.

Bang!

This pebble actually reached the speed of a bullet.

But Emrys remained motionless. The pebble shattered upon contact with the psionic barrier covering his body.

Emrys clenched his fist, and his figure suddenly vanished.

The next moment, he appeared before the Thunder Warrior, his fist gradually enlarging, like a meteor, enveloped in boiling fire.

"Goodnight."

With that, the berserk Thunder Warrior completely lost consciousness.