Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0036 Faith from the realm of Slaanesh?

Flames rose, and a dark, cold yet scorching gaze fell upon the golden throne.

The gaze wasn't directed at the blind witch, yet she could still see everything within it.

All the suffering, sacrifices, and life and death that humanity has endured throughout history are contained within that gaze—ancient and enduring, tragic and magnificent.

It all began with the murder in the swaying golden wheat fields and continued until the golden monarch sat on the golden throne.

Everything was burning, like offerings on an altar being scorched by flames. Everything was destroyed by the fire and turned into empty smoke, offered to the god who would also be sacrificed. This was a truly grand sacrifice. In contrast, the blind witch's sacrifice was a pathetic joke.

The blind witch opened her mouth, and fire surged from her soul. Her soul, body, and even the smallest atom within her were burning fiercely. The pain of this moment alone surpassed all the torment the blind witch had ever endured, and this was only the smallest wisp of the flames of the withered corpse king burning the throne.

In the fire, the blind witch finally realized the terrible mistake she had made.

"Forgive me..." she cried out, pleaded, prayed, and confessed.

"No." Zhou Yun, who was ascending into the heavens and merging into the golden throne, uttered this single word softly.

Thus, the excruciating pain burned the blind witch's soul to ashes, each wisp of ashes howling in endless agony.

From the perspective of others, this pain is only momentary, but in the senses of the blind witch, this moment is stretched into eternity.

But the flames did not dissipate; they flowed along the veins of the sacrifice, into the realm of Slaanesh, and surged toward the sixty-six souls who had willingly offered themselves as sacrifices.

Warm, scorching, and burning hot, Saccofi Paulus, held in the hands of the bull-headed monster, suddenly felt a warmth, like being bathed in the setting sun at dusk in late summer, his face burning from the golden sun hanging low in the sky.

How warm it was... Sakoff saw the sun, which was getting closer and closer to her. It was cold, it was dark, but it was also so sad and gentle. Sakoff's soul was burning. She felt pain. She knew what was coming to her, but she smiled.

This is... liberation.

Oh, sun.....

She didn't plead, she didn't resist, she simply accepted her fate...

"The Cursed One!!!!"

The bull-headed monster let out a sharp wail. The Slaanesh demon frantically tried to throw Sakhofi away, but Sakhofi's soul had already transformed into a raging torch, and the intense light instantly engulfed the bull-headed monster.

Cries of anguish and wails rose from the fire, but the hollow, deathly silence brought no pleasure. The unstimulating pain drowned the demon, leaving only ashes to dissipate.

Simeoneta, whose nerves had been extracted and turned into a human harp, struggled to raise her head and looked at the scene with disbelief and uncertainty.

The sixty-six souls that had been deceived, tricked, and abducted to be sacrificed were suddenly ignited by golden fire. The fire spread to the demons who were trying to devour their souls, and ninety percent of the demons waiting for the feast at the banquet table were instantly engulfed by the fire.

But the strangest thing is that after the flames went out, the few demons who survived seemed to have forgotten everything that had just happened, and forgot about their companions who had been burned to death.

They simply stood there, looking around with a bewildered expression, and when they saw that the banquet table was empty, they dispersed without interest.

It was as if... as if those burned demons had never existed, erased from the present, past, and future.

Even in Simeoneta's own memory, the figures of those demons began to become blurry and indistinct.

"The Cursed One," Simeneta murmured the name softly.

These are the names that demons wail and cry when they die, the names they fear.

But Simeoneta did not feel fear from the fire; instead, she saw a cold hope within it.

Then she quickly realized something... well, the Slaanesh who was guarding her had just been burned to death.

For a moment now, it seems... I'm free?

Although she still couldn't escape this courtyard, she had ample opportunity to send a message to her followers before being taken over by other powerful demons...

Beside the altar, Libo, panting heavily, watched this scene with a bewildered expression:

Suddenly, the blind witch and the offerings in mid-air spontaneously combusted. Golden flames burst forth from their faces and pores, illuminating the dim altar like dozens of suns, before finally burning to ashes.

As Libo looked at the ashes that had not yet completely cooled, his expression gradually turned to horror.

Who exactly is Zhou Yun?

Zhou Yun watched this scene with a sense of helplessness, shaking his head repeatedly. What a clumsy cultist!

He had previously thought that no demon would be so foolish as to try to use Zhou Yun's back door.

After all, other psionicists have access to the warp, but Zhou Yun's little door leads directly to the Golden Throne.

While demons might possess some intelligence, cult members certainly don't.

Zhou Yun could vaguely sense that a wisp of flame from the Golden Throne had traveled along the veins of the sacrifice and entered Slaanesh's domain, seemingly burning more than a dozen demons to death.

However... Zhou Yun frowned.

+The Cursed....+

Oh, the sun...

Two voices flashed past Zhou Yun's ears.

Is this...faith?

What kind of belief is this?

Zhou Yun sensed two streams of faith flowing into his body. One of them increased his spiritual energy by a full ten percent, while the other, though much weaker, was still significantly stronger than any he had collected so far...

And where does this faith come from... Slaanesh's realm?

Did I develop Stockholm Syndrome from being burned by those two Slaanesh demons?

You can even feel good after being burned by the Golden Throne? Then hurry up and come to the Golden Throne for a chat. Zhou Yun is willing to abdicate and give way to a worthy successor.

Or is it that burning Slaanesh demons can gain faith? Or perhaps among those sacrificed souls, some converted to Zhou Yun's faith before dying?

Zhou Yun felt that the second possibility was the most likely, but that faith that had increased Zhou Yun's spiritual energy by a full ten percent... Zhou Yun always felt that it was definitely not the faith of an ordinary mortal.

But this faith came from Slaanesh's realm, and Zhou Yun had no way to investigate it. He could only withdraw his thoughts, take a deep breath, and focus his will back on the Golden Throne.

The scorching fire almost burned through Zhou Yun's soul, burning his bones to charred ash, his flesh to melt away, and his pupils to wither and collapse.

But the bizarre situation persisted—amidst this intense pain, Zhou Yun himself was surprised to find that he still possessed a conscious will.

He almost immediately projected his will onto the body he had just discovered.

breathe----

Dry sand rushed into his nostrils, and the flames from the Golden Throne burned every cell in his body, only to reshape them in an instant.

Zhou Yun opened his eyes and found himself lying in a patch of yellow sand, surrounded by collapsed pillars, with other people lying nearby in the shadows.

The raging flames of the Golden Throne, the dimly lit room of Macragge, and the sand-covered ruins that this new body saw all appeared before his eyes simultaneously.

Zhou Yun tried it out, and the new body began to stand up, while Macurag's body also began to move normally.

The feeling was amazing; these two bodies were like his left and right hands, which he could control freely at the same time without affecting each other.

Fragmented memories began to flood into Zhou Yun's mind.

Tizka.....Archaeological team.....Insects.....

Zhou Yun vaguely remembered that this body originally belonged to an archaeologist.

Moreover... Zhou Yun was somewhat surprised to discover that this archaeologist was actually a psionicist, and unlike the scholar, this archaeologist had already crossed realms and had systematically studied psionic techniques.

He looked around and realized that he was in the footsteps of a magnificent palace.

But the temple has been abandoned, most of it buried under the yellow sand, and the dome above is broken and sculpted into a honeycomb shape by the wind and sand. You can still vaguely see the images of ancient gods painted on it.

In the yellow sand around him, Zhou Yun saw the archaeologist's colleague.

They were all dead, lying in the yellow sand, their eyes wide open, their skin gray, their lips bluish-purple, their faces filled with terror, as if they had seen something horrible before they died.

Zhou Yun took a few steps forward, squatted down, and began to examine one of the corpses... There were no wounds on the body, indicating that the death was not caused by physical means.

Psychic techniques? What are they?

Zhou Yun's thoughts froze, and the archaeologist's memories brought a term to mind.

Soul-devouring bees.

As soon as the name of this creature came to mind, a guess popped into Zhou Yun's head:

Could this be... Prospero?