Chapter 135 Final Battle (3)

Currently tangling with Khorne, Vane suddenly unleashed a massive burst of power, forcing the Blood God to step back.

Taking advantage of the breathing room, he spammed his Void Ring and instantly teleported to where Slaanesh had just exploded. He spawned a mini black hole with the Void Ring, sucking up every last fragment of Slaanesh and dumping them straight into a Bedrock cage.

Once his Desire Grand Prix project officially launched, these Slaaneshi shards were going to be incredibly useful. Not only could they be used as end-stage raid bosses, but they’d also make fantastic loot drops.

It’s easy for Warhammer fans to talk big about hating Slaanesh online, but let’s be real—if given the chance, what hardcore fan wouldn’t instantly jump at the opportunity to take a cute succubus loli?

Roar!

Khorne bellowed in pure rage, his heavy, thundering footsteps shaking the ground as he charged straight at Vane.

“Your opponent is me.” Shaking off Nurgle, the Emperor stepped in, entirely blocking Khorne’s path.

“Get out of my way!” Khorne roared, raising his massive axe and bringing it crashing down on the Emperor. But the Master of Mankind easily parried the blow with his flaming sword, unleashing a shockwave of energy that swept across the battlefield.

Vane casually tossed the Bedrock cage full of Slaaneshi bits into his inventory and pivoted to find his next target. By now, Cegorach, Isha, and the Void Dragon had completely surrounded Tzeentch.

“Oh ho? Is it the blue bird’s turn on the chopping block?” Just as Vane geared up to join the gang-beating, Tzeentch started screaming.

“Esteemed Outer God! I am willing to offer you my utmost loyalty! Please, I beg you to accept my surrender!!”

“To think you’d actually beg for mercy. You’re seriously embarrassing the entire Chaos God brand right now,” Vane said, flashing a wide, mocking grin at Tzeentch.

“You’re known for being a deceptive little blue bird. How am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth or just playing me?”

“I am well aware that a being from another dimension such as yourself would naturally distrust me, so I offer you this!” Tzeentch replied frantically, desperately trying to fend off the relentless attacks from Cegorach and the other gods.

A bizarre, glowing crystal drifted out from Tzeentch’s body and hovered right in front of Vane.

“This crystal is the physical manifestation of my core and divine authority,” Tzeentch pleaded. “If you crush it, my physical form will instantly shatter along with it. Thus, my life and death are placed entirely in your hands.”

Vane reached out, grabbed the crystal, and tossed it into his inventory.

“Alright, I’ll accept your surrender. I actually have a job lined up that’s right up your alley anyway.”

His Desire Grand Prix project desperately needed a game designer who specialized in crafting twisted, convoluted stages and puzzles. Without a doubt, Tzeentch would be the perfect hire for the gig. The players and the audience were absolutely going to love its devious level designs.

Glancing at the inescapable Bedrock cage Vane held, and then nervously eyeing the aggressive postures of Cegorach and the rest of the pantheon, Tzeentch had no choice but to willingly hop into the cell. Regardless of how humiliating it was, it was still infinitely better than getting blown to bits.

Khorne roared, absolutely livid at Tzeentch’s cowardly surrender.

Unfortunately, screaming was all the Blood God could do. With the blue bird out of the picture, the newly freed gods immediately swarmed over to jump Khorne.

Now completely surrounded by the Master of Mankind and his allied gods, Khorne fought like a madman. It bellowed in fury, wildly swinging its massive axe and charging relentlessly.

As the Chaos God of War and Murder, Khorne was terrifyingly powerful. But against an entire divine squad led by the Emperor, even Khorne couldn’t fight off that many hands at once. Defeat was inevitable.

It wasn’t long before Ynnead cleanly severed one of Khorne’s arms. The heavy war axe hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud along with the amputated limb.

Switching to a massive greatsword with its remaining hand, Khorne desperately tried to fend off the divine jumping.

Eventually, it was tackled to the dirt. Its sword was ripped away, and it was subjected to an absolute beatdown of cosmic proportions—getting kicked and stomped by multiple gods while it screamed in impotent rage. The Emperor finally hoisted the battered Khorne high into the air and, with a massive flex of power, chokeslammed the god deep into the bedrock of the Warp, instantly shattering it into countless pieces.

Vane scurried around, hoovering up all of Khorne’s fragments and stuffing them into a Bedrock cage. These will make fantastic raid bosses for the Desire Grand Prix.

The morbidly obese Nurgle was the very last Chaos God to fall.

As the god of plague, decay, death, and entropy, Nurgle represented the endless cycle of rot and rebirth, drawing its power from humanity’s primal fear of disease, aging, and death. It boasted the highest defense and durability out of the entire pantheon, allowing it to hold out the longest. But the sheer volume of enemies it was facing was just too much.

Vane, the Emperor, Cegorach, Ynnead, Isha, the Void Dragon, and the rest of the C’tan—Nurgle was tanking the concentrated DPS of the entire human-allied faction all by itself. No matter how incredibly tanky it was, it was an impossible fight.

“Argh… arrrggghh!”

Unable to withstand the relentless barrage, Nurgle finally collapsed. Its weapon was knocked away, and its grotesque, bloated body, unable to contain the sheer overload of destructive energy, violently detonated, blasting chunks of plague-ridden fat everywhere.

“Another one bites the dust. Nice.”

Vane scooped up all of Nurgle’s gross remnants and sealed them into a Bedrock cage. With these Chaos Gods as crafting materials, the Desire Grand Prix was definitely going to be an absolute banger. He genuinely hoped the players selected for the games would put on a spectacular show.

The total defeat of the Four Chaos Gods triggered an immediate, catastrophic collapse in morale across the entire Chaos faction.

The daemonic hordes, which had been relentlessly rushing the defensive walls just moments prior, suddenly let out high-pitched screams of sheer terror. They broke ranks and ran for their lives.

The horns of counterattack echoed across the battlefield. The heroic spirits of the Imperium formed up into disciplined phalanxes, marched out from behind the high walls, and ruthlessly hunted down the fleeing daemons, swearing to wipe every last one of them from existence.

Meanwhile, the traitor Daemon Primarchs were also finally facing their ultimate reckoning.

Serving as the supreme commander, Perturabo watched the gods fall and the daemonic army shatter. Realizing the war was completely lost, he let out a heavy sigh and immediately initiated his tactical retreat.

But Dorn obviously wasn’t going to just let him walk away. He immediately gave chase, hell-bent on settling all the bad blood between him and his wayward brother once and for all.

Perturabo was fast, but Dorn managed to run him down, sparking a fateful, cataclysmic duel between the two Primarchs.

Having embraced the power of Chaos, Perturabo was vastly stronger than he had ever been during the Great Crusade. However, Dorn had received Vane’s divine gifts, ascending to become a god of Order, wielding the absolute authority of the earth and defense.

After a grueling, brutal melee, Dorn emerged victorious. He completely subdued Perturabo and literally tossed him into an iron cage.

“This is your end, Perturabo,” Dorn said coldly.

“Ten thousand years ago, I told you that I would defeat you, lock you in a cage, and put you on display for eternal humiliation. And now, I am simply making good on that promise.”

“Dorn, you coward! Kill me if you have the guts!” Perturabo roared in blind rage, violently throwing himself against the bars of his cage.

This level of humiliation was the absolute last thing Perturabo could tolerate. The mere thought of lowly mortals pointing and laughing at him was a disgrace far worse than death.

Ignoring Perturabo’s furious curses and despair, Dorn handed the cage off to the heroic spirit of Sigismund and his other sons. He ordered them to haul his traitorous brother back to Terra to face the judgment of the Imperium’s citizens.