Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0079 I made the following deployment

The sweltering air made Kleist's mood fluctuate slightly. She inhaled and exhaled several times, but still couldn't suppress the slight tension in her heart.

"Nervous?" Zhou Yun looked at Kleist, and through the mental link, he could sense her feelings.

"Yes." Kleist nodded emphatically. "You know what? I was brought to this arena when I was very young."

"Back then, I thought high-ranking riders were some kind of gods, invincible beings, and that even disrespecting them was a kind of blasphemy."

"Now, however, we are going to be their enemy, and we may even have to confront them head-on."

Kleist spread his hands, his palms were sweaty.

"They are just human beings, or even the inferior kind."

Zhou Yun whispered to Kleist:

"Have you seen Angron? If anyone in Nuthria can be called a god, it is him."

"Furthermore, our battle plan was also devised by a god, and no military strategist in Nutheria can surpass his thinking."

"We have two gods protecting us, while high-ranking riders only have a group of demons and a paralyzed violent maniac behind them. Even they don't really favor high-ranking riders."

"And what about you?" Kleist suddenly looked up at Zhou Yun. "Are you?"

"Me? What am I?" Zhou Yun was stunned for a moment, not understanding what Kleist was asking.

"You can connect our minds, you can know what will happen in the future, you can save Angron from a bloody future, you can remain conscious even after being hit with the Butcher's Nail, are you a god too?" Kleist counted on her fingers, recounting the bizarre behaviors of Zhou Yun that she had witnessed.

"I'm a psionicist," Zhou Yun couldn't help but exhale, "but not even a particularly powerful one."

The desiccated corpse of the emperor on the golden throne could indeed be called a god, but Zhou Yun was unable to use its power and bring down that magnificent spiritual energy.

This body is at most at the level of a typical think tank's psionic abilities, and its physical attributes are far inferior.

If any Astartes were to appear, Zhou Yun might very well be killed by a single bomb.

"You can distinguish between a psychic and God, right?"

"Look, even when Angron is this weak, he can still easily kill me."

Kleist nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

"Brother." Anglong turned his head slightly to look at Zhou Yun after hearing his words.

"If I can kill a person, I'll know I can."

"I can kill everyone I encounter in this arena, except you. You can't be killed?"

"...Yes." Zhou Yun had to admire the original body's focus. "I am unkillable. Even if this body dies, I will have another body to live on. I am not afraid of death. This is more like an avatar to me. In ancient times, people called people like me 'immortals'."

Zhou Yun knew he was not the same as the so-called immortals, but he chose to say so to make it easier to explain to Anglong.

"Isn't immortality a form of godhood?" Kleist asked, his eyes wide.

"Not at all. Even the oldest immortals have to work, serve in the military, earn demobilization pay, and invest in land. In the end, they lose everything because their land was burned by the eldest son of their former friend," Zhou Yun said, shaking his head.

Then, he looked at Angron and said, "Now that you know, you can rest assured about me. Just follow the plan and don't worry about me."

Zhou Yun thought it was a good thing that Anglong had realized this.

If he said it himself, Anglong would definitely suspect that Zhou Yun was making excuses for self-sacrifice.

If Anglong had discovered it himself, he would have understood that Zhou Yun's life could actually be sacrificed, since he wouldn't actually die.

Even for Zhou Yun himself, real death was actually a good thing, meaning he could let go of all the pain and misfortune and sink into silence.

Angron opened his mouth, about to speak, when the iron gate directly opposite them opened with a click.

A blood-stained roar echoed from within as beastmen with twisted horns were released from the dark dungeon, many of them bearing the marks of the Butcher's Nails on their heads.

But it wasn't just these ordinary beastmen. As prisoners were released from the dark dungeon, the red sand began to tremble, and a single eye, gleaming with an eerie blue light, shone from the dark doorway.

The bricks and stones were forcibly torn apart, and the giant beast emerged from the porch, revealing its form to everyone.

It was a mutated behemoth, as tall as three or four ordinary wild beastmen, with a bull's head. Its most striking feature was the single eye on its forehead, which seemed to be staring not at reality, but at the deep terror beneath it.

"The Cyclops," Onomamus murmured. "It actually exists. I thought it was just a fairy tale."

"High-ranking riders of Glory, as you can see, this is a mutated beastman, a breed known as the Cyclops, a mutated behemoth that can only be bred in the most polluted, twisted, and insane areas of the dense forest."

"Gladiators, this is the war you've desired! Come, bleed, give your lives to us and the gods!"

In the eyes of the worm, that piercing voice rang out again, and bloodthirsty cheers erupted from the stands.

The Beastmen were completely consumed by rage. They charged at the formation of hundreds of gladiators, while the Cyclops swung his arms wildly, crushing the Beastmen around him and reaching out his giant hand to the gladiators.

But the gladiators' formation remained unchanged; they stood resolutely together, and order was evident in their very being.

"Throw the spear!!!" Onomamus raised his sword and shield high and struck them together, the crisp sound echoing throughout the arena.

The gladiators, wielding spears, raised their lances in unison, the sharp tips shooting out and striking the Cyclops's face, piercing into his flesh.

The Cyclops let out a wail, his body swaying as he wildly waved his arms, knocking over the nearby beastmen.

The beastmen at the forefront were also disrupted by the falling spears. Many of them were pierced through the body by the spearheads and fell sideways onto the red sand.

The beastmen behind did not stop, but rushed forward in a chaotic mass, crowding together with the first wave of beastmen.

"Something's not right..." For some reason, Lasita got goosebumps watching this scene.

It's so orderly; even the timing of throwing the spears is perfect. It's almost like...almost like...

It's as if each gladiator is connected by a thread, and an unseen hand is controlling them.

+Ready. +

Zhou Yun's voice resounded in the minds of every gladiator.

Behind the mirror, the child's command was transmitted to the minds of every soldier.

"I have made the following arrangements."

(I understand that once it's going to be available for purchase, I'll update with at least 10,000 words. I'll also write a launch message later.)