A huge muffled sound came from the closing door. Fugen turned around suddenly, but behind the fluttering silver hair, he only saw the tightly closed door.
[Personal matter.]
A slow, soft, and weak sound was heard, like bubbles coming out of a swamp.
Fugen frowned, subconsciously showing his displeasure, and looked at Omega not far from him. Flies flew out of that guy's exhaust pipe.
They kept a proper distance, and Omega seemed to completely ignore Fulgrim's dissatisfaction. He smiled, just smiled.
Fugen shook his head and swallowed, saying nothing.
The purple flames on his body gradually died down, and those tiny flashes reappeared on the Phoenix. The gems fell to the ground, and the fragrance filled the air.
But even so, Fugen still looked like a beggar who stole the king's clothes. Under the heavy headdress, it was difficult to hide the mediocrity in his eyes.
Fulgrim swallowed his saliva. Malcador and Alpha... What on earth was this new Alpha? He didn't understand - did he need to understand
He doesn't need to understand.
Everything that is intricate, everything that is small, everything that is tangled is worthless in front of the real behemoth.
In a trance, Fulgrim shared the same opinion with Mortarion who was preparing in the Warp - just destroy it all.
There were purple flames in the Phoenix's eyes as it felt the familiar smell, but this time it was different. The power of the Six Desire Rings was lost, as their owner had already thrown them away for a night of pleasure.
This is the most luxurious joy in the galaxy.
Fulgrim was silent, and the power obediently attached itself to him, silently worshipping him as the new king. Was the power of Slaanesh ever so gentle? Or was it because of Malcador...
There was another loud thump behind them. One of Malcador and Alpha was going to be beaten badly. Fugen hoped that person was Alpha.
He followed Omega up the stairs. The altar carved with blood filled the entire hall, forming a strange big circle, with four small circles evenly guarding the big circle.
Omega looked at him meaningfully and led him to the center of the altar. Fugen paused, his eyes dim, and finally said nothing.
His position was not one of the four small altars, but at the very center of the large altar - which was usually where the sacrifices were placed.
At this moment, the place is full of gold and silver.
Omega seemed to regret that Fulgrim had not asked any questions. He muttered something, but turned and left, heading for his own small altar, where screaming and playful Nurglings were decorating the small space.
Fugen stood on the cold altar. He felt an itch on his wrist. When he raised his hand, he saw delicate half-scales crawling out.
Fugen took a breath imperceptibly, and forced his gaze away to look at the remaining four small altars.
Omega was playing with the noisy little guys, and next was an empty altar dripping with blood and burning with flames. Fulgrim thought that was Alpha's position, and then there was an empty, extremely simple altar with nothing on it - was that Malcador's position
Then, countless broken mirrors flickered, each flashing a different fate, the sound of the feather pen touching the paper rustled, and the parchment floated in the air, dancing with the owner's giant red hand.
Fulgrim's pupils trembled - well, Phoenix thought, even if he saw Vulcan in a pink dress now, he wouldn't be surprised.
The only thing that would surprise him a little... Fulgrim's brain, which had been numbed by the impact of magical realism, thought for a moment, perhaps it was the false Holy Gilles.
[Hello, Magnus.]
Fugen said calmly. He took a deep breath and stood in the center of the altar. His premonition of death made him feel surprisingly good.
Magnus looked up, confusion flickering in his eyes.
[Hello, my brother.]
Of course, what surprised him even more was that Magnus now had one eye - but it was not the same eye he had before, the position of the eye was on the other side.
Fugen took a deep breath and listened to the sounds of smashing and destroying in the next room.
[Have you betrayed?]
Fugen said with open arms,
Magnus paused, his pen stopped writing,
Magnus said.
[No matter which side it is? ]
Fugen felt a kind of annoyance as if he had been teased. He shouldn't expect normal people to exist in this world - lunatics! All of them were lunatics!
Magnus blinked his one eye, as if stating a self-evident fact.
[Loyalty? Betrayal? My ridiculous brother, it's worthless.]
[Loyalty and betrayal have no meaning to me anymore. The pursuit of eternal truth is my mission.]
Fulgrim's mouth trembled as he felt the turbulence of the warp, the psychic energy with significant characteristics, ["Eternity"? This doesn't sound like something your master would say.]
[I am me,] Magnus waved his hand, and the parchment in front of him disappeared, [I am the Scarlet Sinner, the Red King, I am Magnus.]
Fugen opened his mouth and smiled, there was no need to waste any more words.
Just as he looked away, bang! The door was reopened, and Malcador and Blood Red Alpha walked out with stern faces. The hostility in them was exactly the same.
Malcador seemed to have experienced a bloody rain. His white robe was soaked with blood. The old man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his hand and limped towards the empty altar.
Blood Red Alpha wasn't in a much better situation. Fugen discovered that a small section of his giant horn was broken off and hot blood was flowing out.
Blood Red Alpha walked up to his altar and Omega glanced at him with a smile.
Malcador walked towards the altar. He passed by Magnus's altar. Magnus stared at the old man with calmness in his eyes, as if he was looking at an existence that had nothing to do with him.
[Good day, Malcador.]
Magnus said suddenly, and the hurried Malcador glanced at him with a fiercer look.
Malcador did not answer Magnus. Magnus shrugged, and his figure was reflected in the thousand mirrors behind him, broken and incomplete.
[Okay,] Magnus whispered, as if talking to himself, but in fact, Fulgrim knew that the damn guy did it on purpose, for all of them to hear.
[I also chose your favorite ink, Makhado. ]
Malcador, who was busy drawing a golden magic circle on the altar, sneered.
"I'll thank you personally later."
The old man said hoarsely and gloomily.
No more, great! I will continue to work hard tomorrow.
(End of this chapter)