In Warhammer, My System is Minecraft

Chapter 227: If a God is Killed, They Die

When the Reaper’s Scythe revealed its true form, the endless, decadent melodies within the Palace of Pleasure came to a sudden halt. The silence was more suffocating than any clamor.

Zeke gripped the scythe’s handle with both hands and raised the Reaper’s Scythe. The blade inverted in the air, a flash of cold light gleaming, as he slashed down along the path stretching between the infant spawn and Slaanesh.

Slaanesh did not dodge. Perhaps it was out of shock, or perhaps She simply couldn’t—cowed by the overwhelming aura of the Reaper’s Scythe, leaving Her powerless to resist.

Severed.

The wrath of the Aeldari souls erupted from the Scythe, and Zeke seemed to hear the faint, barely discernible wail of Slaanesh.

The Palace of Pleasure was cleaved open from its dome straight down to its foundations. The fissure spread outwards, sending bricks and stones flying and snapping beams and pillars. The entire palace was like a piece of cloth brutally torn apart, exposing a shocking skyline. The power of the slash did not stop; it continued to extend outward. The Six Circles surrounding the Palace of Pleasure—the six halos symbolizing Slaanesh’s divinity and domain—were also sliced right through the middle by this single strike.

Zeke himself was staggered by the recoil, taking a step back. The power condensed within the Reaper’s Scythe far exceeded his expectations.

As for Slaanesh, She stood on the other side of the rift. Her body from the waist up was split in two. The two halves slumped in opposite directions, swaying weakly like a dead tree struck by lightning, leaving only the lower half barely maintaining a cohesive shape. The Reaper’s Scythe had stripped away all the color from the struck area. Those rich, decadent, and intoxicating hues faded entirely, leaving nothing but a dull, deathly stillness, like drained ashes.

Slaanesh, for the first time since Her birth, tasted what it truly meant to be heavily wounded.

Her health bar illustrated the situation perfectly. Aside from the normal damage that caused the health bar to drop slightly, the first fifth of Slaanesh’s health bar was now shrouded in an ominous gray shadow. This was also the first time Zeke had seen a health bar like this.

Zeke looked at Slaanesh’s status bar and noticed a status effect named "Doom." A quick check revealed that as long as Doom exceeded the current health, it would trigger an immediate execute on the creature. The amount of Doom inflicted was directly tied to the soul energy stored within the Reaper’s Scythe.

Sure enough, only a god could deal with a god.

Zeke gazed at the violently swaying body that was rapidly trying to fuse back together, sighing inwardly before sensing that the Reaper’s Scythe was now completely empty. Earning money is hard, spending it is easy; storing souls in the Reaper’s Scythe was hard, but spending them was incredibly easy. The trip to Commorragh had yielded so many Dark Eldar souls, but now they were gone in an instant. The good thing was that this problem might be solvable later via the Transmutation Table.

"Delivering a fatal blow is probably unrealistic," Zeke muttered. "The objective is achieved. Time to retreat."

He looked toward the infant spawn. That previous slash had been deliberately angled to sweep across it, cleaving it into a half-dead state. The spawn’s vitality had plummeted to the verge of collapse; it was on its last breath.

Zeke threw out a Poké Ball once more.

This time, even if the infant spawn was unwilling and struggled desperately during those few shakes of the ball, it was already at the end of its rope. First, it had been swallowed into Slaanesh’s belly, then burned by the flames of the Emperor’s Sword, and finally, struck by the heavy blow of the Reaper’s Scythe. The accumulation of these three severe traumas had exhausted its last shred of strength to resist. The Poké Ball wobbled a few times and clicked shut.

The splitting TNT had also already begun to detonate. One split into two, two split into four, and the explosions rang out one after another, blasting the beds and doorframes to smithereens. Slaanesh’s breeding plan, amidst this fire and smoke, was completely reduced to naught.

The surrounding Slaaneshi daemons had mostly been reduced to ash by the sweeping aftershock of the Reaper’s Scythe. The remaining stragglers simply cowered, their terrified gazes darting back and forth between Zeke and the half-dead Slaanesh. In their eyes, fear had completely driven out all other emotions.

They could only watch helplessly as Zeke strode out from the ruins of the Palace of Pleasure, leaped into the air, and vanished into the abyss.

After falling for about thirty seconds, Zeke’s body gradually turned transparent, transforming into a Spectator, and drifted toward the location of the Glowstone Portal.

Passing through the outer two rings, Zeke saw the minions sent by the other three Chaos Gods, sneaking around and gathering intelligence on the Palace of Pleasure. Using his Spectator state, Zeke hovered silently beside them, catching all their whispered conversations—which turned out to be mostly useless drivel.

The only thing worth noting was that the subordinates of the three chaos gods, who would normally fight on sight, had gathered together surprisingly peacefully. This undoubtedly sent a signal: the pressure Zeke exerted seemed to be forcing the other three chaos gods to consider cooperating.

This was not good news at all. The chaos gods cooperating...

In the final moment of his departure, a deafening roar came from behind, accompanied by the crackling explosions of the TNT. Slaanesh had finally broken free from that walking-corpse state. But all that was left for Her was a long-gone Zeke, and the TNT that had multiplied dozens of times over, blowing the Palace of Pleasure to absolute pieces.

Zeke paid no mind to those vicious curses. At this moment, he had tentatively formulated a basic strategy for dealing with Warp Gods.

First, there was the Reaper’s Scythe. This lethal weapon was a natural counter to Slaanesh, though he wasn’t sure if it would be equally effective against the other three chaos gods.

Second, and also the richest spoil of this journey, was the spawn of Slaanesh. Using a god to suppress a god—this chess piece was well worth putting to good use.

Passing through the Glowstone Portal, he returned to the Webway. Zeke drank milk, exiting Spectator mode, and set foot on Commorragh once more.

Zeke then smashed the Glowstone Portal behind him; a rift to the Warp absolutely could not be left open.

The surroundings were a bit too quiet. Just as he was wondering why, a pillar of light suddenly fell from the darkness, splitting the space ahead. A figure slowly took a step forward, standing bathed in the light.

A Harlequin. The Harlequin raised a hand and donned a mask. Astoundingly, it was a mask of Zeke’s face.

A second spotlight immediately flared to life, and another Harlequin took the stage. The posture and mask of this one were highly seductive, clearly bearing the mark of Slaanesh.

The two locked eyes and immediately clashed, fighting bitterly in a dead heat.

"Hear ye," a voice echoed from behind the curtains, laced with thirty percent amusement and seventy percent comedy. "Just in the nick of time, Zeke brought forth a divine artifact."

The ’Zeke’ Harlequin pulled out a prop closely resembling the Reaper’s Scythe. With a flash of cold light, the ’Slaanesh’ Harlequin fell to the ground on cue. The movements were exaggerated yet precise, drawing a roar of laughter from offstage.

Realizing the newcomers harbored no ill will, Zeke watched this absurd stage play with keen interest. The characters in the play came and went, perfectly recreating every single scene of what he had just done in the Palace of Pleasure. Even the most trivial details were replicated without a single error, a precision that bordered on the uncanny.

"A truly magnificent performance, wouldn’t you agree?"

A pair of hands reached out from the shadows, clapping lightly. Following that, applause swelled like a tide from all directions, echoing endlessly. The two Harlequins in the center of the stage offered a deep bow to Zeke before retreating behind the curtain.

"For a human to wound the Youngest of the Chaos Gods... even if relying on the power of the Death God, it is enough to leave one breathless in awe. This play shall be immortalized within the annals of the Harlequin Troupes, for all future generations to revere."

As the voice faded, the figure behind those hands finally stepped out of the shadows.