Ahriman gazed at the Bloodthirster before him, psychic runes flickering around him, as the ethereal blue psychic flames clashed fiercely with the demon's scarlet evil light in the space.
The Great Demon roared, raising its black-flamed axe high, then brought it down with a mighty chop—the air twisted and burned where the axe blade passed, as if even the fabric of reality would be torn apart by this single blow.
Ahriman brought his hands together, and a psychic barrier instantly unfolded, forcefully parrying the axe's strike.
Energy surged, the ground cracked, and his power boots sank deep into the pool of blood.
But he did not retreat; instead, he used the momentum to raise his hand, and a dazzling psychic lightning bolt erupted from his palm, striking the demon's chest directly.
"Thar'gazh!" Ahriman intoned, the ancient Thousand Sons incantation trembling in the air.
The psychic lightning transformed into countless chains, coiling around the Bloodthirster's limbs, forcing it to its knees.
The demon roared and struggled, sparks flying from its bronze armor under the psychic restraints, but the runic chains tightened further, even beginning to scorch its flesh.
Just as Ahriman prepared to further suppress the demon, a dark figure leaped from the shadows—it was a male figure draped in tattered grey robes, his face obscured by a hood, revealing only a pair of cold, gleaming eyes.
He held a bone shard inscribed with ancient script, his voice deep and hoarse:
"Its true name is—Khar'zath the Bloodreaper!"
The moment its true name was uttered, the Bloodthirster let out a deafening shriek, as if its soul were being ripped apart.
Its form began to distort, its flesh dissolving like melting wax, and the black-flamed axe trembled violently, the skulls embedded on its back wailing mournfully.
Ahriman seized the opportunity, forming hand seals, and psychic runes coiled like chains around the axe, forcibly sealing the demon's essence within it.
Finally, the Bloodthirster's form completely collapsed, transforming into a crimson blood-light that was absorbed into the axe.
The black flames on the axe blade abruptly extinguished, replaced by ethereal blue psychic patterns flowing across the axe head, as if the demon's soul still struggled within it.
The grey-robed man took a step back, seemingly unwilling to linger.
Ahriman turned to him, his psychic senses attempting to penetrate the other's hood, but he felt only emptiness.
"Who are you?" Ahriman asked in a deep voice.
The man did not answer, merely chuckled softly, his figure dissipating like smoke into the blood mist, leaving only a final sentence echoing in the air: "This axe will crave more…"
Ahriman lowered his gaze to the battle-axe in his hand; the blade trembled slightly, as if whispering. He knew he had just created an extremely dangerous demonic weapon—but sometimes, to fight Chaos, one must use Chaos's own power.
He tightened his grip on the axe hilt, psychic runes flickering in his palm, temporarily suppressing it.
This battle was over, but a larger conspiracy had just begun…
—
After Ahriman resolved the summoned Bloodthirster with overwhelming force, the entire Hive City's rebellion abruptly ceased, as if choked.
Or rather, when the Supreme Wizard of the Thousand Sons Legion truly unleashed his full power, the so-called "rebellion" was nothing more than a farce that could be casually wiped away.
As the GW-recognized first Psyker among humans, Ahriman's strength, though not comparable to the old relic on the Golden Throne or a certain silver-haired shota pretending to be old, nor an opponent for a certain one-eyed sunburned Ogryn, was undeniably formidable.
Even if the chess piece did not possess the full power of the original, suppressing a planetary rebellion was still very simple for him.
No fleet bombardment was needed, no Space Marine drop-pods were required; merely his vast, ocean-like psychic power was enough to scour every inch of the surface—rebels, civilians, and even subterranean mutated creatures would be annihilated in this psychic storm.
But such "efficiency" would inevitably attract the attention of certain entities.
Ahriman knew well that when the slaughter reached a certain critical point, the one on the Brass Throne would cast a approving gaze, and this was the last thing he needed at the moment.
After all, to the Blood God, a spectacular massacre was the best sacrifice, and whether the butcher himself was willing was utterly irrelevant.
Although, by common sense, slaughtering unarmed civilians would hardly gain the Blood God's favor, as such unchallenged slaughter lacked the glory of a warrior.
But when you kill enough, so much that a sea of blood submerges an entire continent, so much that skulls pile into a sky-reaching tower, Khorne will make an exception and cast an approving gaze.
This dog-headed figure on the Brass Throne is an anomaly among the Four Chaos Gods: he does not require complex schemes like Tzeentch, nor does he impose twisted benevolence like Nurgle, and certainly does not seek the pleasure of depravity like Slaanesh.
In a sense, he is even the most "pure" and most "generous" of the Four Chaos Gods; as long as you offer enough blood and slaughter, he grants power, simple and direct, no tricks involved.
But it is precisely this "generosity" that is most fatal to non-Chaos worshippers.
In the history of the The Galaxy / Milky Way, countless warriors originally fought only for justice, yet because they fought too bravely, they unknowingly gained the "favor" of the Blood God.
You might simply want to protect your home, bravely fighting enemies on the battlefield; you might merely be executing an exterminatus order, faithfully purging every heretic; you might even just burst forth with astonishing combat power in despair.
But when you come to your senses, you find your skin beginning to redden, your mouth involuntarily chanting the Blood God's holy name, and the eternal war horns echoing in your ears—congratulations, Khorne has unilaterally declared you his Daemon Prince.
This kind of "forced purchase and sale" blessing is precisely what Ahriman is desperately trying to avoid at this moment.
As a Thousand Sons Wizard proficient in the nature of the Warp, he understands better than anyone: a deal with Chaos is never decided by you when it begins, but once it starts, you can never call it off.
Although Ahriman is merely a chess piece and will not truly fall or die, he does not want to face such a fate.
Therefore, Ahriman cautiously controlled his power output, acting like a precise surgeon, intervening only at the most critical moments.
When the tide of battle began to turn in favor of the Imperium, he immediately pulled back, leaving the task of clearing residual enemies entirely to the Inquisition and other Imperial armed forces.
He himself, under the pretext of needing to further seal the demonic battle-axe, returned to the Ecclesiarchy Star District's Grand Cathedral Headquarters in the Upperhive, attempting to use the power of the Emperor's faith to suppress this demonic weapon.
However, while suppressing the demonic weapon, Ahriman also pondered who the Mysterious Man he encountered earlier was, and why he knew the true name of this Bloodthirster and assisted him in sealing it.
Clearly, this indicated that the rebellion that erupted in the Mariupol Sector might conceal deeper secrets.
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