As the barrier between Subspace and the real universe gradually thinned, the scenes on the chessboard began to be influenced by the Blood God.
The surroundings were completely filled with dispersing blood—a surging crimson tide capable of sweeping away most people. Factories no longer emitted black smoke; they emitted red mist. The sewage that had originally flowed in the gutters had transformed into blood under the power of Chaos. Everything around was saturated with Subspace energy… and to those with distorted perceptions, the entire Hive City had become a massive pile of skulls.
People howled and roared, offering perfect blessings to the Blood God. Countless skulls were hurled into the sky, summoning even more legions of Chaos, allowing these demons to feast on the Mortal world.
Around the cathedral, a golden light as thin as a cicada's wing shielded the people inside. Their devout prayers had some effect after all, at least preventing the power of Chaos from penetrating directly within.
"This is truly terrible!"
Seeing this scene, The Lion was reminded of the Caliban era. Back then, due to the actions of traitors, his own planet had also fallen into such a wretched state. Except the scene back then had been even more hellish: not only surging blood, but also constantly growing pustules and all kinds of disgusting flows of pus. Various sharp, pleasure-filled laughs had drifted around, and even birds in mid-air could turn into Chaos Spawn and crash to the ground.
Although the scene here was somewhat less horrific, the intense stench of blood still made The Lion feel disgusted.
Within this endless realm of blood, she seemed to hear echo after echo. It was a very familiar name, shouted relentlessly by a stubborn rock:
"I am Rogal Dorn, son of the Emperor!"
"I am Rogal Dorn, I shall never compromise!"
It sounded like a single phrase repeated over and over, but The Lion understood—it was her brother's constant cry within the endless blood realm. She couldn't locate the source or direction of the sound. Yet, in such a godforsaken place, hearing her brother's voice felt heartwarming.
"No, I must not show any psychological weakness!"
"No matter who comes next, I must cut them down!"
"Even if it's Sanguinius, even if it's Rogal Dorn—anyone walking out of this blood realm cannot possibly be my brother!"
The Lion cleared her mind. She stared into the blood realm, now an abyss, seeing countless demons rushing toward her defensive line and observing how Mortals collapsed under its influence.
"I can't take it anymore!"
An Astra Militarum soldier, who had broken down at the front line, suddenly began a mad slaughter. He pointed his weapon at his former comrades and opened fire. Lasers instantly pierced through a comrade's lung, knocking him to the ground; many soldiers didn't even have time to react before being cut down by their own companions.
"Hold steady!"
With a single heavy strike, The Lion cut down several ordinary people already influenced by the blood realm. Even if they had once offered loyalty, once corrupted, their subsequent actions were acts of betrayal. In the eyes of the other Battle Sisters, this Living Saint was decisive, her faith unwavering, her actions swift and resolute. Every movement seemed to represent the God-Emperor's will, and even her image radiated sacred authority.
She carried a natural aura, one that declared she was born to be the God-Emperor's child.
Seeing that Subspace corruption had failed, Khorne's followers, joined by numerous Bloodletter demons, assaulted the line. They charged with melee weapons—greatswords, battleaxes; almost no human or demon chose ranged weapons, as they had little preference for them.
"Fire!" Tyrian roared, commanding the Battle Sisters to open fire. Mortal-pattern Bolters unleashed significant power, and their power armor allowed them to use some heavy weapons. For a time, the swarming demonic tide was suppressed by this intense firepower.
Meanwhile, Richard guided The Lion toward critical points on the battle line. The Lion could fight autonomously, yes, but she lacked a god's-eye view. Some details could only be observed from above, and only with this perspective could hidden threats be eliminated.
Wielding the Emperor's Shield and treading in adamantine steel boots, The Lion raised her Knightly Sword from the Caliban era, moving through enemy ranks like a dragon with waltz-like steps. A guiding voice directed her strikes, a mysterious will guiding her to hit the correct targets. Every movement was smooth, every thought clear. It felt as though her Father still stood by her side during the Great Crusade.
"Get back!"
The Lion raised her sacred shield in front of a Battle Sister squad just as a heavy Skull Cannon shot arced toward them.
"Boom!"
The blood-red skull exploded against her shield, emitting violent blood-realm energy. This red mist could drive an ordinary person mad, yet The Lion remained calm, even more focused.
"Lady Living Saint!"
"Quick! Rally around her Ladyship!"
The crowd tried to gather, but The Lion stopped them.
"Spread out, do not approach the mist! Follow my lead in battle—that is an order!"
Tyrian, commander of the Sister squad, initially wanted the sisters to surround the saint, but The Lion rejected it. She then charged toward the distant Skull Cannon alone. A god of war among mortals, she cut through enemy lines. Many surrounding monsters were taller than her, but most demons couldn't withstand a single strike from The Lion.
While others fought like in a Souls-like game, The Lion played a pure hack-and-slash game. Enemy units fell in milliseconds. The distance seemed far, yet she reached the Skull Cannon in a few strides, smashing it into bone fragments.
"The Wanderer skill is really useful!" Richard marveled. Unlike other pieces, The Lion could teleport, closing distances in an instant. Her Subspace essence allowed battlefield mobility that seemed limitless—she could move across star systems with precision.
She now understood her own Subspace powers, which gave her confidence. Even in the vast Chaos Wastes, she could return to hold her defensive line within moments. The Battle Sisters watched in awe as she moved—fearing neither demons nor Subspace corruption.
"Heavens, Lady Living Saint, your style is far too dangerous!"
"It's good no one from Ordo Hereticus is here, or they'd call you a heretic!"
The Lion laughed at the idea. She had always been the one to designate heretics; none could dare call her one.
"Hmm… interesting. The Empire truly needs firm and reliable faith," she remarked, sensing its decline. Her priority now was finding her children and understanding the Empire's state.
At that moment, strange roars echoed in the distance. A massive figure tore through the Subspace veil—a Great Daemon of Khorne, preparing to join the feast.
"Curse it! We cannot let that beast through. We must attack, or the defensive line will fall!" Tyrian warned, gesturing at the severely depleted manpower.
"I know my manpower is lacking. To slay a Great Daemon before it fully manifests, I am enough on my own!"
The loyal Battle Sisters insisted on charging with her, even knowing it was suicidal. They fought for opportunity and time, willing to follow The Lion into the fray.
"For the Emperor!"
Even if they became Khorne's followers mid-battle, their frenzy ensured relentless combat. Killing in His name or not, the Blood God blessed them.
Deployment time ended. Richard quickly deployed Terminators—Deathwing veterans capable of keeping pace with The Lion.
"Your Excellency, I may no longer run. You must kill the demon and buy time for the others!" Tyrian, gravely wounded, whispered. Her faint golden light of faith could not make her a true Living Saint.
The Lion rarely looked back, respecting the loyalty of these brave Mortals.
"Rest in peace. The Emperor, my father, will accept you."
Explosions suddenly rang out from the sky. A giant golden hand slowly descended—a miracle. Survivors and demons alike stared, eyes fixed on the firmament.
"Are those my sons? Has my father truly become a god?"
The Terminator squad deployed, crushing demons and cultists, surrounding The Lion.
"Lord Lion!"
"We have arrived late!"
"The loyal Knights of Caliban continue as your sword!"
A Knight Commander approached, but The Lion nearly lost composure. Dying Tyrian witnessed a great secret before passing.
"Just die peacefully; take the secret to your grave!" The Lion whispered. Tyrian passed, soul returning to the Golden Throne, smiling as if in peace with her sisters.
Phew. With no living Mortals left and even the Jizai dead, The Lion finally felt at ease—the brave had kept the secret with their lives.
"Lord Lion, this…"
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