Warhammer: Empire Reboot

"Do not."

"She must be very happy to be imprisoned by you, right?"

Lawson's eyes flickered slightly.

Sarasien licked the corner of his lips.

“Severed, bound, tamed. Forced to bow her head under the gaze of her enemy. That humiliation could grind every inch of her pride into something sweet. If it were me…”

"I really envy her."

Upon hearing these words, the surrounding spirit race members all turned extremely pale.

For Slaanesh, failure is an experience, torture is a reward, and even imprisonment can become a twisted form of showing off.

"You guys are really sick," said Lawson.

Salasion laughed and spread his arms wide, as if embracing the entire battlefield. "You short-lived flesh and blood always like to call your unacknowledged desires 'diseases.' But you're not clean either, human. You led an army into the Eldar Ark, killing Chaos, killing Eldar, killing Dark Eldar, and pretending you were just there to save people."

It tilted its head, and Lawson's reflection was seen in its purple pupils.

"You enjoyed it."

"You enjoy killing things."

Lawson did not answer.

Sarasien took this silence as confirmation, and the corners of her mouth curved upwards even further.

"Give me the Spirit Clan here."

It's like offering a reasonable business suggestion.

“I can help you deal with Vashtor. The Creator thought the contract would bind me, but there are always loopholes in the contract. You don’t like him, right? He wants to become a god, he wants to steal your key, he wants to turn the entire galaxy into gears and magic steel.”

It slowly circled around Lawson, each step as light as walking on water, its toes leaving ripples of purple on the spirit bone ground.

"I can make his demonic engine start listening to other songs."

"I can make the technicians of the Dark Mechanicus fall in love with mistakes."

“I can turn his most sophisticated factory into a carnival of flesh overnight.”

"You just need to turn around..."

It stopped to the left of Lawson, its voice as gentle as a lover's whisper.

"Let me devour these spirits."

As it spoke, a third hand had already silently risen.

Hidden in the fingertip is an almost transparent needle of the soul.

The needle doesn't pierce the flesh; it pierces the edge of consciousness. Once it strikes, even a Primarch-level being will instantly feel the deepest temptation, humiliation, and resurgence of desire from Slaanesh.

Everything suppressed by reason will surge up; a mere moment of wavering is enough.

They negotiated while launching a surprise attack.

Words are knives, beauty is poison, and intimacy is a caress before biting the throat.

This is the true Slaanesh demon.

Lawson stood still, as if he hadn't noticed.

Salasion's needles fell...

broken.

Lawson's endogenous psionic energy surged outwards.

It's like a knife forged from within reality, slicing directly through the connection between Salathion and the depths of the warp.

For the first time, Salasian's smile froze.

The purple light beneath its feet was severed, the ribbon on its back lost its support, and its four arms tightened simultaneously.

In an instant, it went from a hunter who controlled the entire field to a prey with no way out.

"you……"

Horus's claws seized its face.

Clasp your five fingers together, and the golden fire will pour into your palm.

Lawson pulled it in front of him and slammed his knee into its abdomen.

Salasion's body bent over, and the bone flute flew out of his hand, bouncing twice on the spirit bone ground before coming to a stop.

Lawson grabbed its head and slammed it into the spirit bone ground.

The bone floor was dented, and cracks spread outwards.

Salasion's face slammed into the ground, creating a crater, from which purple blood mist spewed out.

Horus's Claw pressed down on its upper body, and its right fist, wreathed in Imperial Flame, slammed down repeatedly.

The third strike, the fourth strike, the fifth strike.

Each punch caused a layer of its physical form to crumble.

The purple spiritual fragments were ejected outwards and burned by the golden fire. They didn't even have time to reassemble because the burns left by the golden fire on the soul level made the reassembly extremely painful.

Sarasien attempted to turn into mist.

The subspace connection was severed in half and cannot be resolved.

The fog had barely condensed an inch before it was baked away by the golden fire.

It attempted to invade Lawson's consciousness with seductive whispers.

Lawson slapped it so hard that half of its face was twisted.

"Don't you Slaanesh love sensations the most? Can't you feel it?"

That slap, carrying the perfect kinetic energy of the ultimate mechanical limit, passed through Salasion's skull from his left cheek and exploded into a burst of purple light on his right side.

The Great Demon's head suddenly tilted to one side, and his body spun half a circle.

The seductive syllables it was trying to compose turned into a whimper that went off-key.

Another punch landed.

"What about this one? Does it feel even deeper now?"

It attempted to summon support from the surrounding Slaanesh demons.

The White Tiger and the Suanni have already stopped those demons; not even a single Slaanesh imp could squeeze in.

The surrounding Saim-Han warriors almost forgot about the battle.

That's Slaanesh, the great demon.

A monster that would require the Prophet's Guild to pay a heavy price to banish.

In Lawson's hands, it was like a snake being pressed onto a chopping board.

Lawson grabbed Sarahsien by the hair and pulled her up from the ground.

Its demon form could no longer be maintained.

Two of his four arms drooped limply, his longsword and whip were gone, and the Soul Orb had rolled several meters away on the ground.

Its face was half shattered, and purple blood dripped down its jaw, revealing a skeleton beneath that shimmered with spiritual energy.

The Angron Battle Axe was raised in Lawson's other hand.

The dark red light on the axe blade made the surrounding air feel heavy.

When Salahien saw the axe, he finally stopped laughing.

It sensed the edge of true death.

It's not about going back to the subspace to recuperate for thousands of years before coming out again.

He died in the same way as Angron.

He died the same way as Typhon.

A real death, one that even a thirsty lady couldn't save.

"and many more."

Sarasien immediately adjusted his expression.

Half of its face was shattered, purple blood dripped onto the spirit bone ground, two of its four arms were useless, and its entire physical form was almost completely destroyed.

But its facial expression control remains perfect.

The shattered face softened again, as if the beating had been a prelude and the real performance was just beginning.

"If you can take Ash Velos in, why not take me in too?"

The expressions of the surrounding spirit race members changed instantly.

Ilancia had just reached the edge of the square when she heard these words and stopped in her tracks.

Another one?

Sarasien slowly knelt down.

The four arms, including the two that were already useless, slowly lowered, as if offering their necks willingly.

The kneeling posture was so elegant it was almost eerie, like a dancer who had been beaten and bruised giving her final, perfect curtain call on the stage.

"What Ash Velos can do, I can do too."

There was no fear, no shame in those purple pupils, only eagerness and twisted anticipation.

"And I can do it better than her."

Sarasien seemed to be sharing a secret.

“Ash Velos is the Keeper of Secrets; her talent is spying and concealment. I am Thousand Strings; my talent is playing music.”

Its cracked lips curled into a smile.

"I am more useful than her, and I can make you happier."