Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

As the rift expanded, the roars of other gods came from the multidimensional world, causing ripples in the laws of space.

Those offended beings are watching this out-of-control game from across the abyss.

A rustling sound like leather rubbing against each other came from deep in the crack, and eight iris-covered limbs broke out of the ground.

Nurgle's bloated body, wrapped in plague spores, squeezed into reality, and his rotten fingertips poked at the ever-widening cracks: "If this goes on, our playground will be completely destroyed—" Yellow-green mucus overflowed from the corners of his festering mouth, condensing into a warning totem in the void.

Xi's blade barely touched Tzeentch's reorganized core, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Slaanesh's delighted demons swarming out of the Eye of Terror.

Liquid desire flows in those translucent bodies, and wherever they pass, all life in the real universe turns into distorted cocoons of light.

She fumbled for the Star God fragment in her hand, and twelve antimatter beams pierced into the crack.

The shadowy figure of the Lord of Change screamed like shattering glass, and His newly condensed divine nature evaporated into a pale purple mist in the energy collision.

Nurgle suddenly erupted in a deafening cough, and the spore cloud he unleashed enveloped the Slaanesh Vanguard.

The moment those joyful demon armies came into contact with the poison, they swelled into glowing cysts and exploded one after another in the universe.

Taking advantage of this gap, the Emperor's Astronomican suddenly burst into a supernova-level light, and an invisible psychic barrier spread from the center of the Milky Way, burning the edges of the cracks into charred carbon marks.

"It's time to end it." A faint light seeped out of Xi's armor, and the shadow of a twelve-winged Seraph appeared behind him.

The moment the sword in her hand collided with the Chaos Scepter of the Lord of Change, the entire star field fell into a dazzling pure white.

When the light dissipated, the crack had shrunk into an emerald-colored spot of light suspended in the void, and Tzeentch's laughter turned into electronic noise and gradually faded away.

Nurgle picked at the pustules and retreated back into the Warp, muttering, while the swarms of Slaanesh licked the cocoons of light at the edge of the galaxy unwillingly.

Xi looked at the devastated star field, and the star track pattern on his wrist suddenly burned violently.

Xi's fingertips stroked the star patterns wrapped around the bronze case, and the sound of gears meshing mixed with the whimpering of the subspace vibrated in the void.

When the second hand passed the "eternity" scale in reverse, the wreckage of the entire star field suddenly stopped.

The shattered remains of stars are like an inverted holographic projection, re-melted like liquid metal, and the distorted folds of time and space are stretched out like smoothed silk.

The dissipated projections of the gods flowed back upstream, Nurgle's festering fingertips retracted into the cracks, and Slaanesh's deformed body reassembled into its original human form.

Even the Chaos Runes of Tzeentch that had not yet completely dissipated turned into streams of light and drilled back into his lair in the Warp.

The dead people returned to their places one by one, and the stardust scorched by psychic energy gathered into a brilliant nebula.

When the time gears rotated in reverse for the seventh time, the star field had been restored to the perfect sandbox at the beginning of creation.

Only the ancient clock on Xi's wrist was oozing with black oil stains, and the distorted face of the deceiver appeared on the back of the dial.

The fragment of reality embedded in the watch movement was emitting a high-frequency scream, and every crack was oozing out the price of corroding time and space.

"Does it hurt?" She chuckled at the vibrating watch case, and the stardust hanging from the ends of her hair suddenly condensed into chains, wedging the fragments deeper into the gear set.

A distant cry of pain came from the subspace, as if some indescribable existence was suffering the backlash of time reversal.

When the last sound of gears meshing fell silent, the only sound left in the entire star field was the ticking of the clock's second hand, and that whimper was forever locked deep in the folds of time.

……

The amber storm in the warp suddenly changed direction, and Tzeentch's shattered godhead was like a lost phosphorescent fire, forcibly pulled back by the gravitational field of the crystal maze.

The nine-domed magic palace is deconstructing and reconstructing itself. Flowing runes of fate appear on the crystal stone floor tiles. The arcane curtains hanging between the spires turn into millions of prisms, reflecting the future of every invader into countless possibilities.

Khorne's Skull Throne exploded, its eight-sided battle axe splitting the blood-red clouds. Eight hundred and eighty-eight demon armies advanced across the boiling sea of ​​blood, the blood-red battle axes carried on the shoulders of the great demons spewing flames of hatred, burning the Warp matter into nothingness wherever they passed.

Their scarlet armor oozed psychic magma, and even the miasma of Nurgle condensed into sharp crystals in the battle cry of Khorne.

A fetid mist wafts from Nurgle's Plague Gardens, and the bloated bulk of the Great Unclean Ones rolls across the Warp landscape, trailing a sticky fungal mat in their wake.

The swollen limbs of Nurgle's armies constantly burst and regenerate, and wherever the spore cloud passes, the rules of reality curl and melt like damp parchment.

The giant toad emerged from the tide of corruption, spewing acid, corroding the space into bubbling holes.

Slaanesh's torrent of joy finally arrives, as six hundred and sixty-six demon armies sweep in with a storm of sensations.

The scales of Xarathi Demon Scourge ooze with liquid desire, and every flick of his tail can strip the souls of his enemies into trembling streaks of light.

In the psychic web woven by the demons, screams and groans condensed into tangible sonic blades, and even space itself spasmed and distorted under the dual stimulation of desire and pain.

The moment the three offensives collided outside the crystal maze, the torrent of mathematics and the vortex of psychic energy set off a frenzy that swallowed up dimensions.

Khorne's chainswords split Nurgle's fungal creep, Slaanesh's sonic webs shred the Chaos runes, and the ever-proliferating mirror images deep in the labyrinth are weaving this melee into a new puzzle of fate.

In the energy debris that exploded in the void, Tzeentch's wild laughter mixed with the roars of three parties, setting off a new round of chaos storm in the warp.

The dome of the Crystal Palace suddenly burst into billions of prophetic fragments, each mirror reflecting a different defeat and victory.

Nine shadows of the Great Demon Tzeentch leaped out from the debris, and the Arcane Scepters in his hands turned into tens of millions of psychic snakes, entangled the first Khorne demon army that broke in.

As the axe of Khorne collided with the psychic serpent, the fleshy dimension of the Warp was torn apart, revealing the writhing neural networks of the Deep Planes.

"Do you think you can tear fate apart?" Tzeentch's voice exploded at every node of time and space. The acid of the Lord of Nurgle suddenly flowed back, turning his own corrupt tide into a boiling poisonous pool.

As the Great Unclean One roared angrily, countless life-eating insects emerged from his swollen eyeballs, but they melted into purple slime the moment they touched the Great Demon clone of Tzeentch.

The demons of Slaanesh took the opportunity to release a vortex of senses, twisting the entire battlefield into a maze of desire.

The fury of the Daemons of Khorne was transformed into twisted desires, and their axes screamed with pleasure as they slashed at their own bodies.

This made Khorne very angry.

The scales of Xarathi Demonbane oozed a seductive mist, and even the festering limbs of the Nurgle Lord began to bloom with eerie flowers.

The fragments of the Skull Throne suddenly reassembled, and Khorne's true body tore through the dimension and descended.

His boots crushed the triple reality, and the great axe in his hand split the sensory realm of Slaanesh, splashing a rain of psychic blood that corroded the emotional structure of the maze.

Nurgle seized the opportunity and injected plague spores into the cracks, and corrupt vines began to grow from the foundation of the Warp, entangling Tzeentch's ever-proliferating clones.

The outcome of this melee collapsed simultaneously among millions of possibilities.

The Sea of ​​Souls surged with sticky scarlet waves, and Khorne's Titan-like body stood in the center of the sea of ​​blood.

Every time he swung the blood-red axe soaked in chaos, countless parallel worlds were torn open in the void.

The remaining souls of billions of creatures gushed out from the cracks, turning into wailing chains that wrapped around the axe blade.

The true meaning of mindless killing is revealed here: every axe mark is a wound of fate, flowing not only with blood, but also with crushed possibilities.

Tzeentch's existence is like an illusion refracted by a prism, manifested simultaneously in every facet of the Crystal Maze.

His scales are forged from arcane formulas, and his psychic energy veins pulse beneath his skin into a constantly rewritten prophecy.

As Khorne's axe winds tore through space, Tzeentch's thousands of clones responded in different ways at the same time.

Some turned into runes and dissipated, some condensed into entities to withstand the impact, and more split into new probability branches at the moment of collision.

"Victory and defeat are illusory anchors." His ninefold voice resonated throughout all time and space, and his split clone actually blossomed into a Mandelbrot fractal structure in the sea of ​​blood.

Those seemingly broken psychic fragments are actually a breeding ground for new conspiracies. Every moment of reorganization is reshaping the topological logic of the subspace.

Khorne's battle cry shattered the surface sea of ​​souls, revealing a throne of skulls piled high in the depths.

His giant axe split Tzeentch's most core clone, but more shadows burst out from the broken crystal.

The victorious Tzeentch is celebrating, the defeated Tzeentch is lying in wait, and many more beings between victory and defeat are weaving this fierce battle into a never-ending variation.

Khorne's rage erupted like a volcano, and blood-colored psionic energy surged out from his body, raising the waves of the sea of ​​souls to a height of a thousand meters.

His blood-red eyes glared at Tzeentch's countless shifting forms, his voice roaring like thunder: "In your twisted logic, my defeating you is a change, and my failure to defeat you is also a change? Battles should have clear winners and losers! The loser should endure the humiliation of defeat, forever nailed to the loser's pillar of shame! Just like I lost last time, and I should sit on the Skull Throne forever."

He gripped the blood-red axe tightly, the blade gleaming with a bloodthirsty light, as if eager to become the next sacrifice for Tzeentch's twisted divine energy. "When I defeat you and watch you linger at my feet, you still call yourself the winner? This is a blasphemy against the glory of battle!"

A trace of recognition for the Emperor, Nurgle and Xi actually emerged in Khorne's heart. Although they were enemies, at least they had a straightforward attitude towards victory and defeat.

If you lose, you lose. There is no more disgustingly complicated sophistry or distorted interpretation.

"At least they respect the rules of battle and the glory of the victor. Unlike you, Tzeentch, you taint the purity of battle with your endless changes and devious logic!"

Khorne became even more annoyed when he thought of the battle with Slaanesh.

That guy couldn't feel any real pain. During the fight, he would only indulge in twisted desires, making the battle even more absurd.

"The battle with Slaanesh is the same. There is no wailing that goes through the bones, only disgusting and perverted joy!" Khorne's roar echoed in the Sea of ​​Souls, stirring up waves of blood-red ripples, as if even this sea of ​​souls was trembling with His anger.

Khorne's axe split the bloody storm, and nine hundred and ninety-nine clones of Tzeentch exploded into countless dust like broken glass.

Before the flying psychic fragments hit the ground, the dome of the Crystal Palace exploded, and tens of thousands of new clones poured out from the cracks, each phantom holding high a scepter engraved with the formula of paradox.

"Bastard!" The fangs under Khorne's visor bit into the air and left scorch marks, and the skull crown burst into an angry red light.

The turbulent subspace flow caused by his swing of the axe shattered the three dimensions, but the clones that were split apart actually bloomed new bodies in the shape of mandala flowers at the wounds.

The corruption of Nurgle swept across the battlefield in due time, and the plague cauldron poured out warm soup as thick as pitch.

The Tzeentch clone that came into contact with the corrupt fluid instantly stiffened into amber wrapped in fungal mats, and the arcane runes sizzled under the erosion of corruption.

But this stagnation only lasted for a breath.

The imprisoned phantoms suddenly opened their eyes collectively, and the chaos code flowing in their pupils decompiled Nurgle's fungal blanket into a flickering prophetic star map.

Khorne's boots crushed the crystalline ground beneath his feet, and he regarded Nurgle's help as an insult.

Just as he turned around to roar at the tide of corruption, a stream of purple psychic energy, carrying whispers of desire, brushed past his armor, drawing a twisted lip shape in the void.

Slaanesh's laughter mixed with the buzzing of sensory overload exploded: "It turns out that the Blood God also needs the milk of the dirty old man--"

These words completely ignited Khorne's rage.

Her giant axe suddenly turned to chop down the stream of Slaanesh psychic energy, but the purple light bands cleverly differentiated into thousands of tentacles, which wrapped around the corrosive spore bullets thrown by Nurgle and threw out seductive light patterns at the tip of Khorne's nose.

When the three-color energy collided in front of Tzeentch's core clone, all the mirrors of the Crystal Palace simultaneously reflected Khorne's distorted image due to anger, and those defeated clones were quietly reborn from his shadow.

Nurgle sat slumped in a mold-spattered rattan chair, his swollen fingers scratching at the ichor-oozing patterns on the backrest.

The poisonous mushroom fountain in front of Him suddenly gurgled and spewed out a green spore cloud, which condensed in mid-air into a holographic projection of the fierce battle between Khorne and Slaanesh.

The blood-red battle axe split the purple psychic energy curtain, and the chopped joy demon turned into liquid desire and reassembled.

"Why are you fighting again?"

Chapter 290: To form a justice five-on-one situation

Khorne was angry. What kind of creatures were these? How could they build the warp if they were huddled together with this group of insects?

As I said, I am not afraid of god-like opponents, but I am afraid of pig-like teammates.

We agreed to target Jianqi together.

The Blood God's rage was like a receding crimson tsunami, and the twisted rifts in the warp gradually closed.

The strange creatures suspended in the turbulent psychic energy, from the fear-drinking horrors to the swarms of Nurgle flies gnawing at faith, all slowed their trembling limbs at the same time.

When the piercing roar faded into silence, even the spires of the Eternal Labyrinth gently exhaled a breath of foul air that had been stagnant for a thousand years into the dark purple void.

……

On Macragge, Guilliman was teaching his two brothers and a nephew.

Guilliman asked doubtfully, "So, what methods should be used to manage agricultural planets?"

At this time, Koz's eyes were evasive, as if he wanted to avoid this question.

Sevatar and Clarks, on the other hand, looked calm and at ease.

Sevatar spoke first, speaking clearly and logically, "Sir, in my opinion, the key to managing an agricultural planet lies in properly allocating resources. We must rationally plan the planting areas for various crops based on the soil fertility and climatic conditions of different regions. At the same time, we must ensure the promotion of agricultural technology so that farmers can use efficient farming methods to increase yields."

Clarks nodded slightly and added, "That's right. We also need to focus on establishing a sound logistics system so that agricultural products can be transported promptly and properly after harvest to avoid losses caused by improper storage and transportation. Furthermore, we need to establish stable trade relations with other planets to ensure a stable market for agricultural products. Only in this way can agricultural planets prosper and develop."

Guilliman looked at them approvingly, then turned his gaze to Curze and said gently, "Curze, you should also express your opinion. Don't always avoid the problem. This knowledge is equally important to you."

Coze shifted awkwardly. He always remembered the various parts of other people's bodies at these moments. He murmured, "I think... maybe we should pay attention to the farmers' living conditions and let them work with peace of mind. Only then will we have a good harvest."

Guilliman smiled encouragingly, "That's a good idea. Ensuring the livelihood of producers is indeed the foundation of agricultural development. When we manage the planet, we must focus on these aspects."

Guilliman continued, "But this isn't enough. We must also plan ahead and respond to various possible crises. For example, if a natural disaster were to cause widespread crop damage, how would we quickly restore production? Or, if pests and diseases were to wreak havoc, how would we implement the most effective control measures?"

After a moment's reflection, Sevatar replied, "We could establish a grain reserve system, storing a certain amount of food during good years to prepare for years of disaster. At the same time, we could set up a dedicated research team to research prevention and control methods for common pests and diseases, and prepare response plans in advance."

Clarks then added, "We must also strengthen the mutual assistance mechanism between planets. If the agricultural planet to which Macragge belongs encounters a crisis, other planets can promptly provide supplies, technology, and even manpower support to overcome the difficulties together."

Guilliman nodded with satisfaction, then turned to Curze. "Curze, what are your thoughts on the strategies they've proposed for dealing with this crisis? You should also think proactively so that you can make the right decisions when you encounter similar situations in the future."

Coz frowned and thought for a moment, his mind reminiscing about other things. He slowly said, "I think in addition to these, we should also train some rapid response forces. When a crisis occurs, they can quickly arrive at the affected area to maintain order and prevent panic from causing greater chaos."

Guilliman smiled with satisfaction. "Very good, Curze. Your ideas are very constructive. Managing a planet requires comprehensive consideration, leaving out any factors that might affect stability and development."

Guilliman glanced at his brother and nephew before him, then broached a new topic: "In the management of agricultural planets, the influence of religious beliefs on people's production and life cannot be ignored. How do you think we should guide them?"

Sevatar was the first to respond, his expression serious. "If religion is used properly, it can be a force that unites people. We can encourage clergy to promote teachings like hard work and cherishing food, so that people can recognize the sacredness of their work from a religious perspective and become more actively involved in agricultural production."