75: Chapter 75 Malice in the Void

The Void is trembling.

The very laws of physics that constitute this star sector are being torn apart by five distinct types of malice.

The Chaos Gods / The Four Gods never cooperate.

Khorne and Tzeentch, Tzeentch and Nurgle, Nurgle and Slaanesh, Slaanesh and Khorne—their powers conflict at their very foundations.

They hate each other, yet they are mutually dependent.

But at this moment, they have all appeared simultaneously.

If humanity ceased its internal strife, if anger had an outlet, if thinking had a direction, if suffering had meaning, and if feelings had boundaries.

Then the great power of the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods would be severely damaged, and they would be expelled from the material universe, no longer able to easily corrupt and interfere with the Imperium of Man.

[The First Rift: The Rift of Khorne]

Metal is screaming.

Concepts are colliding; the crisp sound of ten million weapons snapping simultaneously, the final breath of ten million warriors before death, all forged, compressed, and quenched into a bolt of crimson lightning.

From deep within the crimson rift comes the roar of iron boots crushing skulls.

One after another, like a giant heart beating, pumping out endless war.

It is the echo of Khorne's fortress; the mountains of skulls beneath the Brass Throne are resonating, and the blood lakes are churning with eternal rage.

A giant axe emerges from the rift, its blade covered in hideous notches.

The axe descends; He is always the most direct one. His will transforms into power, cleaving down toward Elena's soul, attempting to awaken her anger—and then He fails, for there is no anger in Elena's soul.

He sees only a hexagonal emotional chart, where the corner belonging to anger currently displays 0.

[The Second Rift: The Rift of Tzeentch]

A paradox that is self-analyzing spreads through the Void.

It comes from the whispers of the Crystal Labyrinth; in the library of the Impossible Fortress, every book turns its pages automatically, recording this unprecedented variable.

"Interesting."

With just one word, a chain reaction is triggered in the Warp; in dimensions invisible to mortals, countless timelines intertwine and swirl in the Void.

A polyhedron composed of countless smaller eyes rolls out from the rift, with every pupil playing out a different future.

The quantum coding deep within Elena's soul begins to branch.

Tzeentch does not attack her body; He attempts to attack her "possibilities," trying to extract the branch line where "Elena submits to change" from countless parallel timelines and weld it into the sole reality.

[The Third Rift: The Rift of Nurgle]

Decay is warm.

Yellow-green pustules bloom one after another on the edge of the rift.

A swollen hand reaches out, covered in mushrooms, moss, and blinking boils.

"Child…" The voice is viscous and moist, with a phlegmy tone, "You look… too clean…"

A seed floats from the palm, its tender green sprout breaking through the seed coat, growing toward Elena.

That seed, filled with the love of Father Nurgle / Nurgle, has only just sprouted before it is decomposed, dismantled, and reorganized by billions of nanobots, ultimately turning into a mundane stream of material data that can be utilized by Elena's body.

[The Fourth Rift: The Rift of Slaanesh]

A hand with seven fingers slides out, each one conforming to the golden ratio.

It gently pinches a floating speck of interstellar dust, raising it before an unseen eye deep within the rift.

"Look," the voice is like glass rubbing against velvet, "even her slumber is so… exquisite."

The never-ending feast in the palace of Slaanesh seems to pause for a moment, and all senses are savoring this unprecedented "exquisite"—a perfection that transcends simple desire, bordering on art.

The seven fingers reach into Elena's soul.

But He senses that Elena's desire curve is a straight line.

She has no peaks, no troughs, and not even any room for "more."

---

In the virtual space, The Main Brain's data tentacles are running frantically like an octopus, maxing out multi-threading.

Thread 1: Warhammer Universe monitoring window—The Chaos Gods / The Four Gods are peeking at Elena. Handling it idly. Elena's physical state in the material universe is already comparable to the ultimate physics of the C'tan; her soul does not appear in the Warp, so there is no need to pay too much attention.

Thread 2: stellaris Crystal Fleet vs. Awakened Empire—Manual operation, priority maxed out.

Thread 3: Excel production balancing sheet—Mineral +1200/min formula error. Ever since Icarus went missing, he has had to do all this work, which causes The Main Brain's data stream to reek of irritation.

Thread 4: Icarus has requested a new batch of supplies, which is his true source of anxiety. Delivering packages is simple, but the costs are too high; The Main Brain has no surplus grain left.

Now, all of The Main Brain's attention is pinned to the stellaris interface.

The old Awakened geezer is playing dirty, suddenly launching a sneak attack on the runaway Servitor empire "Nanny." He must use his global perspective to help "Nanny" win this war. He is even considering using the almighty "~" key, but feeling that would be too boring, he puts it aside for now.

But just as he is controlling the small crystal fragment fleet, preparing to flank the main force of the Awakened Empire—

An eye-piercing pop-up window suddenly occupies most of the screen.

[Tzeentch is unfolding timelines, ten thousand possibilities are entangling the target, Elena!]

The Main Brain frowns instantly, his data tentacles pausing abruptly. His tone is full of the impatience of a player whose operation has been interrupted: "Damn! This nine-eyed little blue bird dares to force a cutscene? I already skipped it, and you still dare to come?!"

He glances at Tzeentch in the pop-up window, his fingertips quickly sliding over the opponent's core authority—God of Change, Lord of Change. Not only does He manipulate timelines and future possibilities, but He also dominates conspiracies and sophistry. His power does not rely solely on concepts but rather kneads time, logic, and conspiracy into one.

"So it's just relying on playing with time to weave conspiracies, huh?"

The Main Brain sneers and types a line of commands with his fingertips: [set time_scale 0]

Simultaneously, in the Warhammer Universe, Tzeentch, who is proudly weaving the web of fate, suddenly freezes.

A formula, simple to the point of violence, unfolds before Tzeentch's eyes:

Δt → 0

Δx = γ * Δx0

γ = 1 / sqrt(1 - v^2/c^2) → ∞

The time axis is compressed to zero.

The spatial axis expands infinitely, driven by the Lorentz factor.

The spacetime metric of the Warhammer Universe collapses from ds^2 = -c^2 dt^2 + dx^2 to ds^2 = dx^2.

This means the time dimension has been completely deleted.

All events exist simultaneously; there is no sequence, no causality.

Tzeentch's pride, the "Change," becomes pure geometric stillness on this frozen spacetime map.

"What… are you doing?"

Tzeentch's ten million voices speak simultaneously, shedding their arrogance for the first time and becoming tinged with an unhideable tremor. The "logic of change" He relies on for survival is completely locked down. His expertise—conspiracies, sophistry, future deduction, and timeline weaving—all lose the foundation they rely on to operate on Elena's timeline.

He attempts to mobilize trickery to break the stalemate, trying to use conspiracies to distort the rules, but "the next step" and "the previous step" exist in the same place simultaneously. All sophistry becomes empty talk, and He can only spin in place in vain.