The Emperor’s Angel of Death

“Your swordsmanship is as delightful as ever.”

Just as Amnak was embroiled in a fierce battle, a voice drifted from afar. Amnak glanced at the newcomer; its figure was exceptionally tall, thin purple skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscles, and a non-male, non-female perfect face framed by red lips and white teeth. A robe of pink, orange, and sapphire hues fluttered in the wind, filling the air with a heavy, bittersweet musk.

“Ah, Misery, seeing you still kicking is truly reassuring.”

“Of course. I have always cherished the fire of jealousy in your heart. When you betrayed and left, I was so regretful and repeatedly requested the master to hunt you down.”

Having said that, Misery raised its right arm and flicked it gently, sending an ornate spear flying towards Amnak.

Deflecting Teoti with a sword strike, Amnak immediately retreated, but the spear still grazed his sword-wielding right hand, instantly igniting his arm with the Flame of Agony.

Before he could catch his breath, he saw the Dark Dancer lunging towards him. Amnak twisted to evade, but his gaze remained locked on Misery.

Even behind Misery, he saw five figures emerging like wax from the sands, coalescing into smooth muscles and multiple limbs, bizarre swords gleaming in slender hands.

“So, you’ve all come, old friends.”

“Amnak, cease your ridiculous rebellion.”

Misery raised the spear as if offering a toast.

“Or we will have no choice but to personally deliver your ashes to our master.”

Amnak did not reply, his expression one of helplessness, then he took a deep breath.

A soul-numbing weariness enveloped his flesh, seeping into his heart through the air. Suddenly, he flung out his sword, then transformed into a streak of silver light, charging towards Misery.

The Slaaneshi champion remained unhurried, simply raising the spear in its hand, sweeping out a torrent of blue, pink, and orange flames, while its other arm produced a peculiar shield.

Amnak dodged the scorching flames of desire, the heat carrying countless mad laughter, enough to drive the most powerful Chaos Champion insane, but he remained oblivious, instead diving towards his opponents—not Misery, but the other demons behind it.

He had glimpsed some truth of this world.

Amnak, past them, fixating on one, his blade tearing through the silk and skin of one, the gem-covered demon screaming and flailing its blades, hitting nothing.

In the blink of an eye, Amnak reappeared behind them, his sword sweeping lightly from left to right, severing the head of a shimmering figure.

He felt the tremor of the blade as it passed through tendons and spine, tearing them into pieces, blood spurting out in an arc, exceptionally crimson against the white sand.

As soon as the screaming head hit the ground, Amnak set his sights on the next target.

He swung his sword again, striking the opponent’s hook blade, piercing through the flesh and bone of the snake-headed demon.

The world suddenly turned crimson, filled with roars from fangs and bursts of hissing, Amnak seeing only the warm, blood-soaked edge of his sword, twisting and turning, cutting through flesh.

The more he killed, the more demons appeared.

Slaughter, endless slaughter, until the corpses and the wails of the dying filled the emptiness in his heart.

Turning, he pierced another body with his sword, blood splattering everywhere, a blade aimed at him, he ducked, avoiding the desire-fired white-hot edge, his fingers forming a palm, gripping the neck with three faces tightly, snapping it effortlessly.

Then, he saw Teoti lunging towards him, crossing the slaughterhouse with a dazzling leap, showing him a sneering face and a twisted figure.

Amnak did not engage her again, but turned and left.

Misery, who had been watching him, finally moved, slowly pacing forward, lips writhing, eyes gleaming.

Amnak's movements slowed strangely, allowing the blade to cut through his armor, he could feel the heat crawling over his skin, hot, heavy, viscous, thousands of desires echoing.

Teoti watched him beside him, coiling around, the demons chanting into the air.

“Ah… the beast in the cloak of civilization reveals its true face.”

The dead demons melted, turning into a carpet of flesh and blood, growing a mouth.

“Amnak, my champion, does being with that plaything really make you… happy?”

“Not happy, even terrible, but I like the style, understand? Yes, I, like, these things are without ‘me,’ but now I have it, so you actually already know why I made this choice. Everything we do is to deal with ourselves. The existence we obey, rely on, and believe in is illusory. Many times you give us a solid impression, but in fact, there is nothing easier to destroy and more fleeting than you, whether in the mortal world or the vast Sea of Souls. You come from nothing and enter nothing, only the self can endure forever.”

As soon as Amnak finished speaking, countless mouths and mouthparts of various shapes suddenly cracked open on the ground, emitting discordant laughter in unison.

At the same time, Misery's back arched backward, leaping into the air, the spear in its hand gleaming, striking Amnak like a falling star.

As he tried to raise his sword, he could feel the heavy air pulling at his limbs. Too slow, he seemed unable to parry the blow.

But just as Misery's spear pierced him, a sword also pierced Misery's neck from behind, the Slaaneshi champion frozen in place.

“The Great Enslaver created a psychic channel, projecting my consciousness into the Warp. This trick is not something ordinary Chaos powers can do. I almost fell for it, until I remembered something.”

Teoti’s blade fell, and Amnak swung his sword to meet it, the tip first touching her chin, then piercing her skull.

Before her body fell, Amnak pulled the blade from her face.

“You things have no self, so you can only capture my soul by shaking my self. Slaanesh can’t force a move, can she challenge the power of the Ruinous Powers? I don’t think so, so the only thing she can do is induce, let me be defeated in a hard fight, that’s simple, I ignore you, no, just ignore you, Misery, you can’t kill me.”

Hearing Amnak's words, the countless mouths on the ground roared in uncontrollable rage, but Amnak continued to attack, picking up a demon and tearing it to pieces in mid-air, then continuing to charge towards the next, a sword tearing apart the lewd mask on the ram-shaped skull, sending blood and brains splattering.

Misery trembled, coughing blood, fingers gripping the sword protruding from his throat, pulling it from the side of his neck.