In Warhammer, My System is Minecraft

Chapter 242: Destined, The Dark King from the Future

Next Goal = 800 Powerstones.

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It was too late.

The four gods struck simultaneously. Manipulating Horus’s shell, which was bloated by the power of Chaos, they did not hesitate to abandon the Emperor right in front of them and focused their entire will upon Zeke.

From the very moment Zeke first crossed time to bring back Malcador, the four gods lying dormant within the past timeline had already brought this audacious human into their sights.

They quietly and soundlessly wove their net, waiting for the prey to walk in of his own accord. They hadn’t expected Zeke to be so impatient. This unexpected delight added a touch of genuine amusement to their laughter.

Tzeentch struck first. It was a psychic magic transcending mortal dimensions of comprehension—formless and immaterial, yet it felt as though the entire void was collapsing inward.

Zeke felt an overwhelming, mountain-toppling suction force surge from all directions simultaneously. He was forcibly dragged inside the rift, tumbling weightlessly through the air.

He forcefully stabilized his body. His hand had already reached into his inventory for an Ender Pearl, and he threw it toward the rift without hesitation.

Just as the light of teleportation flared to life...

A massive axe wreathed in hellfire tore through the air, smashing the Ender Pearl into fine powder in mid-air.

Suspended in the air, Zeke felt truly helpless for the very first time.

Facing any single one of the four gods, he might not be able to win, but he could at least escape. But now, with all four gods present simultaneously, every path of retreat felt as though it had been sealed off in advance.

For some reason, the words Malcador had spoken to him surfaced in Zeke’s mind.

"Does this kind of resurrection truly demand no price?"

Malcador had actually been right. Everything had already been marked with a price long ago.

Constantly messing with the timeline, going to the past to resurrect Primarchs... the resulting consequence was that Zeke had drawn the wrath of the four gods of the past.

But the one who ultimately brought this upon himself was Zeke.

It was Zeke who chose to resurrect Horus. Horus’s body was occupied by the four gods; choosing to resurrect Horus was entirely equivalent to actively delivering himself right to their doorstep.

Had it not been for this, even if he continued to wander between timelines, he might not have been caught red-handed by the four gods.

Now is not the time for regrets, Zeke thought, immediately searching for a way out.

"Zeke..." The Emperor of the past and the present spoke simultaneously.

The Emperor of the past seemed to know everything. Swinging His blade horizontally, He slashed at Horus, blocking the puppet from approaching Zeke.

Meanwhile, in present-day Terra.

Within the Throne Room, for the Adeptus Mechanicus responsible for maintaining the life support systems, the readings on their instruments all dropped to zero in the exact same instant, only to utterly max out and overload in the very next second.

Upon the Golden Throne, that body which had remained silent for ten millennia... moved.

The Emperor stood up. A tidal wave of psychic energy rippled outward, piercing through the void, piercing through time, until it reached Zeke’s side.

Zeke felt something land on his shoulder.

"I owe you an answer," the present Emperor’s voice echoed from afar, "but not now."

That golden psychic energy peeled away the tentacles the four gods had extended from Horus’s shell toward Zeke, one by one.

It was a battle on the physical plane, but one that never merely remained on the physical plane. It would be a clash of blood and bone, steel and iron, but simultaneously a duel of thought, will, soul, magic, and immaterial sorcery.

Tzeentch’s laughter turned into a shriek as He spoke to the Emperor, "Your opponent has never been us."

"It is yourself."

Just as Zeke felt the situation loosen slightly and a spark of hope was kindled, a flake of ash landed on the bridge of his nose.

What were they? Sparks? Snowflakes? Black specks of fine ash?

Zeke didn’t know, because he couldn’t see anything anymore. Everything was too bright.

Within the brilliant light, a shadow was sitting upon a throne.

Light coiled around it, and flickering, freezing lightning danced at its edges like an approaching storm.

"Whose ghost has come before my court?" The voice sounded like a blade rasping against a desiccated skull.

The figure on the throne rose, accompanied by the clatter of armor and the hiss of a drawn blade.

The enveloping shadows flowed away from the armor, and Zeke could see a face emerge from the darkness—pale, illuminated by a crown of fire burning atop it.

"The Dark King..." Zeke’s voice went hoarse. As the figure stepped forward, He gradually grew larger, expanding upward and outward.

Ash fell in tandem with His footsteps.

"Exactly, the Dark King of the future. And it’s all thanks to you, Zeke," Tzeentch continued to chatter endlessly.

"You have the power to summon something from the future to this place," Zeke gritted his teeth, feeling the endless oppression radiating from the Dark King.

"No, it is not that we have the power, but that you have the power, Zeke."

"It was you who sliced open the rift in time. It was you who shattered the barrier between the past and the future. You gave us a door, and we simply walked through it. The Vengeful Spirit is the destined birthplace of the Dark King. You just happened to open the rift right here. The wound in time, the will of Chaos, the nexus of destiny—the superposition of these three is what allowed this plan to be realized. Otherwise, even if the four of us gods joined forces, we would be powerless to pay the price required to bring the future Dark King here. It was you, Zeke, who flipped the chessboard and broke the rules first. So do not blame us for not adhering to them."

Tzeentch seemed exceptionally patient this time, actually answering Zeke’s questions one by one.

Zeke let out a bitter laugh. He watched the Dark King clash with the Emperor—a scene impossible to describe with words.

Two entities, sharing the same face and the same bloodline, yet standing at opposite ends of destiny, staring at each other—staring at the person they could have become, or were ultimately destined to become.

The Dark King was the fifth Warp God that the Emperor ascended to become after absorbing all human souls; it was not something the Emperor could handle.

He casually and effortlessly defeated the Emperor.

Right! Zeke abruptly raised his head and shouted to the Emperor, "The past! Use the power of the past!"

The Emperor understood instantly.

Since the four gods could use the temporal rift to summon the Dark King from the future, then He could equally summon Himself from the past.

As soon as the thought arose, phantoms surged behind the Emperor.

The Emperor from the peak of the Great Crusade, the Emperor from when humanity first stepped into the stars, the Emperor from even more distant, ancient eras. Their power merged like countless rivers flowing into the same ocean—superimposing, resonating, and coalescing in this moment into a suffocating pillar of light.

"It’s useless," Tzeentch’s voice sneered.

Just as He said, for every phantom of the past Emperor that appeared, a future Dark King emerged alongside it to match and cancel it out.

The Dark King was the god the Emperor was destined to become; the inevitable shadow cast by every segment of the Emperor’s history. The more past Emperors there were, the more future Dark Kings there would be. The two would remain forever conserved, forever in balance.

Averaged out, it was still one Emperor against one Dark King.

And the Emperor still faced defeat.

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