Hawks from the Land of Light are calling me a dove and an undercover agent in the chat group.

Let's see if you can truly defeat Ultraman instantly by virtue of your broad status, or if I, Kasa, can successfully win another round by relying on my undefeated record against Zetton for over ten thousand years!

"Whoosh!"

In a hurry, the speed was increased to the maximum speed of light, and Kassadin sped across Terra, leaving the Emperor full of excitement.

This is what a man should do!

Yes, yes, things are different now. Now, whatever schemes and tricks the Chaos Gods may have, there's no need to rack our brains to play any tricks against them. All we need to do is save time and get our own business done before the Chaos Gods' schemes are finished.

Even if we fail due to time constraints, so what?

It's nothing more than a head-on clash!

Let's go then!

The emperor's eyes hardened!

With such long-lost excitement, the Emperor learned the moment he arrived on Terra with Kassadin that the Ancient Saint Quag had just arrived on Terra with the Laughing God Sigucci shortly afterward.

Because of its inherent nature as a "clown god," the God of Laughter, Sigucci, can't speak properly and can only express himself through theatrical performances. So he does it this way to show that he's also going all in and is lending a hand.

Both the Ancient Saint Qua and the Laughing God Sigucci are reliable in this game, because if this game ruins Kassadin's chances, then the two of them will only be eaten by the Chaos Gods.

“Mr. Kasa, during your time in the past, a large part of your powerful force will be unusable for most of the time, as if sealed. This is to prevent the Chaos Gods from completely invading the past. Your power will act as a wall, forcing the Chaos Gods to only project a small portion of their power into that past.”

"However, during this period, you should be able to unleash your power occasionally when necessary. Please see for yourself when the time comes."

"Furthermore, the order in which you come into contact with the Primarchs may not be fixed. You may not necessarily visit one Primarch before going to the next; it may be a crossover."

"In addition, your past time is not the same as your present time. Just because you are fast there doesn't mean you can be fast in the present, so there's no need to rush there."

"That's all for now. Are you sure, Mr. Casa?"

"Okay, let's begin."

Ancient Saint Kua explained the precautions, while the Emperor and the God of Laughter simultaneously unleashed their power to protect him, and Kasa began his journey.

The annals of history, begin!

Chapter 20 Angron: Yes, Father.

Subspace.

The cauldron of the benevolent father, which was filled with filth, was stirring up something even more potent than the plague that had been intended to corrupt Shinji Ikari and Unit-01. Instead, it began to stir up an indescribable substance that far surpassed any plague or toxin that had ever existed before.

This indescribable pot of liquid is filled with the power of four chaotic gods, which intertwine and merge with each stirring, becoming increasingly sublime and terrifying with each addition.

The mere aura emanating from it was enough to extinguish even the Chaos Gods' desire to enter.

However, this pot of super-powerful plague, named "Zetton's Soup,"

It was destined from the beginning that someone would go inside to take a bath, eventually transforming it into a true Warhammer-themed Zetton.

"Let me go! Let me go! I am the best candidate for vicious techniques. I will become one of the eight points of the Chaos Octagon. I am the strongest lesser god in the warp. I have worked for you. I am on your side to fight against the physical universe. You can't treat me like this!"

"Chaos Gods! I'm going to kill you all, kill you all! What debt? I don't need to pay any debts! Let me go, let me go!"

"Heh, heh heh heh... I am not a pawn of the Chaos Gods. I am a powerful being with my own free will, wielding the power of the Chaos Gods for my own use. I have surpassed my father Horus. I am Abaddon, the Chaos Warmaster. I should not have ended up like this. I should not have!"

Vashtor, struggling desperately; Bilak, terrified of death; and Abaddon, utterly hopeless, were each captured by Tzeentch, Khorne, and Slaanesh, respectively.

At this moment, the chaotic gods, who had been raising pigs for many years, completely revealed their true colors. 6

As the first demon king to ascend to demonhood in the entire universe, the first chosen one of the Chaos Gods, and also the first chosen by all the gods, with so many blessings, his status has long reached the top of the lesser gods.

Vashtor, needless to say, is indeed the most qualified and most likely Chaos God to ascend to the sixth point of the Chaos Octagon.

As for Abaddon, although he was essentially a mortal, he was no match for the former two as a mere Astartes. Even after being enhanced multiple times by the Chaos Gods over a period of ten thousand years, he still could not rival the Primarch level in any aspect.

But none of that matters.

Because as long as the Chaos Gods place a curse upon themselves here, agreeing that "from now on, there will be no more four new chosen gods," then Abaddon will become the last chosen god in the entire Warhammer universe.

From now on, the co-choice of the four Chaos Gods will be completely extinct, and at most, only the co-choice of three gods will occur. In other words, Abaddon's identity has been directly transformed into uniqueness, and he can be forcibly superimposed to the position of a lesser god.

Although he, as a mortal, could not bear the responsibility of being the last chosen one of the gods out of nothing, it didn't matter, because he didn't need to bear it at all.

What the Chaos Gods need to do now is to throw Abaddon, Vashtor, and Bilak into Nurgle's vessel, which is filled with the power of the gods, and fuse them together, using their status as the adhesive to allow the power of the gods to merge to the greatest extent.

Among them, Abaddon is the most important because he was born a mortal and a life form in the physical universe. Therefore, Zetton, created with the power of the subspace, can enter the physical universe unconditionally.

During this manufacturing process, if Abaddon, Vashtor, and Bilak are not enough, although it will be a pity, Tzeentch, Nurgle, and Slaanesh will all take out their Primarch figures and throw them into this vessel all at once.

Of course, before throwing their own Primarchs in, they would first throw in Peturabo and Loka, two beings of indistinguishable chaos.

This time, they really went all out.

"Everything, all for the purpose of killing Ultraman!"

The four Chaos Gods threw the three despondent materials into the vessel. In that instant, Abaddon, Vashtor, and Birac, who were muttering different words, immediately lost all movement and were completely dissolved.

As they dissolved, the positions of the three lesser gods gradually merged and fused as Nurgle stirred them. During this time, the other three Chaos Gods also dropped many Chaos Artifacts on numerous occasions.

These are their most treasured Chaos artifacts, created by dismantling many parts of their own domains. The destruction caused by Kassadin and Neos earlier resulted in a significant loss of their core artifacts.

"Ok?"

As they were working on this, anticipating the birth of Zetton, Tzeentch suddenly sensed something unusual happening in the warp and focused his attention on it.

Let it see if Kassadin and Neos were also plotting something during the time when the Chaos Gods created Zetton.

On one side, Vograim, Luo Jia, Magnus, Peturabo, and the Motari Security Department, who were forced to wait here, all wore grim faces. They knew why they had been brought here to wait.

At the same time, all of them, the Primarchs, sensed something in the darkness, as if something about them was beginning to change.

Angron, imprisoned on the planet Cadia in the hazy star field of the physical universe, felt it faster and more clearly than his brothers!

……

"Angron, Angron, Angron!"

"The undefeated one, kill him! The undefeated one, kill him! Kill him!"

"Ooooooooooooooooo!!"

Nukelia, the capital city of Deschaa.

On this planet, ruled by the High Knights who inherited the technology of humanity's Golden Age and acted as slave owners, the most popular form of entertainment was capturing and training slaves, then watching them engage in life-or-death battles, and placing various bets before the fighting even began.

At this very moment, the entire largest slave market in this capital city was filled with the same name, along with the nickname of the person who owned that name.

But the next second, all the cheers and applause turned into boos.

Inside the arena, under the spotlight, Angron, enjoying a treatment that no other gladiator on this planet had ever received since the beginning of time, raised his weapon high, but instead of striking the opposing slave with the back of his axe, he only injured the slave's arm to avoid any possibility of a counterattack, and then stopped.

Just like in all his previous battles, he spared his opponent's life and began to walk back, no longer offering these meaningless fights to the slave owners and bloodthirsty spectators.

"Angron, kill him! Kill him!"

Damn it!

"Foolish Angron, how dare you disregard my orders time and time again! Even if you win this time, you won't get a single bite to eat. I'll starve you until you're skin and bones, until you can't bear it anymore, until you're as lowly as a dog, kneeling before me and begging for my forgiveness!!"

The slave owner cursed loudly. Every audience member present was a nobleman, of equal status to him. Everyone wanted to see Angron, the strongest slave in history, go on a rampage of slaughter, not this half-hearted display!

This foolish slave tried to do some pointless good deed, but he lost his money instead!

The slave owner roared, determined that this was the last time. If Angron did not submit this time, he would do everything he could to put the butcher's nail in Angron's head next time, even if it meant he would never be able to subdue Angron as his guard again!

"..."

Angron remained silent, dragging his heavy, old-wounded body slowly into his cramped prison-like cell amidst the hissing of countless slave owners. Lanlan

His eyes were filled with compassion, and tears welled up in the corners.

When will these days end?

From a young age, he had the ability to sense and absorb the emotions of others around him. But in this world, in this slave farm, all he could feel was the daily suffering of the slaves and the trampling of life by the slave owners.

All of this caused him immense suffering.

Fortunately, he can still hold on. (Search)

But how long can he hold on like this? The owner of the arena is losing patience, but he doesn't know what to do. How can he see a glimmer of hope?

Although he was powerful, he was no match for the slave owners' army. The technology of the nobles here was too advanced; a single dose of anesthetic would render him powerless if it hit.

“Angron…” As Angron staggered back, the other slaves huddled in the small prison were filled with heartache and hesitated to speak, especially one of the old gladiators named Eunouchaus.

He had always treated Angron very well, but he saw even less of a future than Angron.

Angron shook his head at the old gladiator with whom he had the deepest bond; he just wanted to be alone now.

Angron went to a corner, his tall body curled up into a ball, revealing a hint of weakness... He was never a war maniac to begin with.

Only in this curled-up, self-defensive posture could Angron barely find a little peace, allowing his body and mind, and his ears, to no longer hear the constant wails and roars, and his increasingly weakened spirit to no longer be ravaged.

Do not……

It seems, not just as if?

"What's this?"

Anglong suddenly froze. Usually, he would maintain this dejected curl-up for a while, but this time, he suddenly raised his head and stared wide-eyed at another corner of the small prison.

Not only him, but all the other gladiators present looked over in astonishment.

Without any special effects or ripples in the space, a man suddenly appeared in that corner that should have been empty.

This man was less than two meters tall, insignificant in height compared to these carefully selected gladiator slaves, and his physique was not as muscular as theirs.

The man was dressed normally, unlike the tattered clothes worn by the slaves who had been repeatedly beaten by various weapons.

Judging from his attire, he might be a slave owner.

But that's not right.

Anglong stood up involuntarily, his throat bobbing as he took one step at a time, holding his breath, like a helpless child seeing his father for the first time since birth.

Angron saw it, he saw it—the man's heart, a heart that was indescribable, beyond description, beyond words, so beautiful that it alone could overshadow all the negative emotions of the entire arena, the entire city, and even the entire planet.

What a noble soul this is!

Can these positive emotions that are constantly being emanating outwards truly exist?