[Grey POV]
The grand hall buzzed with tension. The air felt thick with uncertainty as I stood in front of the grand oak doors, staring at the map of the Empire. The news from the scout was still fresh in my mind—an Elven delegation had arrived from Ulthuan, and they were requesting an audience with me. Personally.
I could sense the unease around the room. My council was looking at me, waiting for a response.
[Grey]: Elves… I never thought I'd have to deal with them so soon.
The Dwarf Lord snorted, his fingers tightening around his tankard. His eyes twinkled with suspicion.
[Dwarf Lord]: Aye, lad. They don't come for naught. Whatever they want, it's bound to be somethin' that's not just their shiny pointy ears making a polite visit.
I turned to the Hunter Captain, who stood to the side, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
[Hunter Captain]: Elves don't meddle in mortal affairs unless it's something important. You've made a name for yourself, Grey. They wouldn't waste their time unless they needed something.
I nodded, my mind already spinning with possibilities. Ulthuan, the island of the Elves, was a realm shrouded in mystery and power. If they were coming to me, it was likely not for anything trivial. The very idea that they had traveled all this way, with the risk of getting involved in mortal politics, meant something grand was afoot.
[Grey]: Prepare the hall. I'll meet with them myself.
The scribe shuffled nervously, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.
[Scribe]: My lord, are you sure? We should prepare our position…
[Grey]: They'll expect no less. Prepare them as you will. But remember, if they've come to negotiate, they'll want to see strength, not fear.
As the council members scattered to prepare for the delegation's arrival, I took a moment to reflect on how far things had come. Just a few months ago, I was barely a survivor in a world ruled by undead horrors, a place that could only be described as a wasteland of the living dead. Now, I had not only claimed the title of Elector Count of Sylvania but had managed to restore the land and push back the enemies that threatened it.
But the Elves—those ancient beings, both beautiful and terrifying in their own right—were a force I hadn't encountered yet. And their interest in me could mean anything from an alliance to something far darker.
[Later – The Shores of Ulthuan, Elven Homeland]
The world was fire and steel.
I stood atop the white marble walls of Lothern, the great gateway city of Ulthuan, where elegance met war. The once-pristine horizon was now choked in black smoke. Chaos raged on the beaches below—foul monstrosities screaming their blasphemous war cries as they crashed like a wave against the shining bastion of the Elves.
Blood, both red and otherworldly green, splattered across the pearlescent stone. I clenched my great abyssal axe tighter, its hum resonating with the fury of battle. My mana pulsed within me, a seething storm beneath calm waters.
Behind me, Elven archers loosed shimmering volleys of enchanted arrows, raining silver death upon the invaders. I had only known them as dignified and distant beings, but now… now I saw the fire in their eyes. They fought not for pride—but for survival.
[Grey]: Where's your flank reinforcement?! That line's breaking!
My voice thundered over the clamor, enhanced by the Aura of Dread I finally let slip. A few Elves flinched at my presence—but the nearby captain, a regal woman with silver armor and golden eyes, gave me a firm nod.
[Elven Captain]: You fight like a god of wrath, Grey of Sylvania. Hold this wall with me!
I grinned, mana bubbling up in my veins.
With a crack, I launched myself down the battlement steps and straight into the chaos spawn breaching the wall from a portal tear. Their bodies were grotesque—limbs of blades, eyes where mouths should be. With a sweep of my axe infused with Dragon Song and Flame of the Forgotten, I cleaved through three of them in a single motion. Their bodies dissolved into screaming void-light.
The Time Eye activated, slowing the next five seconds into stretched eternity.
Clarity. Precision. Death.
I danced between monsters, my tentacles bursting from my back to impale and crush anything that moved with ill intent. The Elves watched me—some with awe, some with terror—as I became a whirlwind of divine wrath.
Chaos sorcerers above attempted a ritual—some reality-twisting chant laced with corruption and stars.
[Grey]: No you don't.
I raised my hand, and Reality-Warping Lv.1 surged with a scream—a violent distortion of space that snapped through the air like cracking bones and tearing cloth. The ritual detonated in reverse, folding inward on the Chaos sorcerers. Their bodies convulsed, mouths stretching wider than possible, before they imploded, reduced to screaming fragments raining like cursed ash.
Silence. For a moment.
But silence is a lie in war.
The ground began to tremble beneath my feet, rhythmically—thoom… thoom… thoom…—like the heartbeat of a titan. Shadows swallowed the light as something monstrous stepped through the burning fog.
He was enormous.
Muscles like mountains, chains trailing from his scorched limbs, and wings ragged with flame and rot. His skin was the color of old blood and cracked stone. His horns curved like twin swords, and his eyes burned with pure hatred.
I knew that face. I had seen it etched in the grim pages of forbidden texts, whispered in old war journals and cursed prophecies.
Skarbrand the Exiled.
Once the greatest of Khorne's Bloodthirsters. Now, a beast damned to endless rage, stripped of reason. Yet somehow, his voice still carried purpose today.
[Skarbrand]: The Great Khorne has spoken. Return with your skull, and I am forgiven.
He raised his twin axes—Slaughter and Carnage—and the sky screamed.
[Grey]: You want my skull? Come rip it from my neck, monster.
I didn't wait. I couldn't. Waiting meant giving fear a chance to root.
I charged, my great abyssal axe glowing with wrath. The weight of my mana surged—Flame of the Forgotten coiled around my arms like serpents of molten fury. Aura of Insanity flickered to life, warping the air in waves. The world bent around me.
And then we clashed.
The sound was a detonation. Axe met axe—void magic against infernal metal—and the resulting shockwave sent rubble and bodies flying in all directions. The Elves on the walls were forced to shield their eyes as the wind howled.
He struck again—fast, impossibly fast for something his size. I blocked, but my bones groaned under the impact. The edge of Slaughter nicked my shoulder, carving a burning trench through my flesh. I retaliated with a spin, my Tentacles bursting forth and impaling his side—but he roared and tore them free, blood like boiling magma spewing across the stones.
[Grey]: Is that all, Skarbrand?! You think pain scares me?!
I lunged, my axe charged with Dragon Song and Time Eye activated—slowing the world to a crawl. I weaved through his flurry, narrowly dodging a deathblow, then plunged my weapon into his chest, twisting.
But he laughed.
[Skarbrand]: YES. YES! STRUGGLE HARDER!
His fist came like a meteor, slamming me into the wall. Bones cracked. Vision blurred.
I coughed up blood, but my mana boiled—Consumer of Matter and Space activated involuntarily, devouring the broken stone behind me to patch my armor.
I rose.
Taller. Darker. My Hollow Form whispered beneath the surface, hungry to be released.
[Grey]: Alright then… round two.
The battlefield trembled beneath us, scorched black from our fury. The sky above was painted in unnatural hues—ashen red and warpfire orange—while screams echoed in the distance. Elves and daemons clashed on every wall and tower, but their war was a whisper compared to ours.
Skarbrand roared, his wings flaring as he slammed into me with the force of a comet. I was thrown like a ragdoll, smashing through a stone spire. Blood splattered across the ground, thick and dark.
I staggered to my feet, ribs cracked, my breath ragged.
[Skarbrand]: I feel your hate, Warrior. FEED IT TO ME!
He came again, both axes raised—Slaughter swung down like the judgment of a god. I dodged barely, but Carnage caught my left arm.
SHHRRRRRKKKK!!
The world spun. Pain exploded.
My arm was gone.
Ripped from shoulder to soul.
My vision blurred, a high-pitched ringing screaming in my ears—but my body didn't fall. My instincts roared to life. Greater Super-Regan struggled to activate, but the wound was deep—his weapon cursed.
Mana howled from within me.
[Grey]: You're going to regret that…
The Aura of Dread snapped to life. The stones beneath us cracked. The very concept of fear manifested as claws clawing at Skarbrand's mind—but the demon was too far gone to retreat. He welcomed it.
He laughed.
But in that moment, his arrogance was my opening.
I surged forward—my tentacles spiraling like drills, wrapping around his right horn and wrenching his head down. My axe, glowing with Hollowed Abyss Sting of Death, was already mid-swing.
[Grey]: Then let me show you what wrath really is!
With everything I had, I plunged the blade into his left eye.
SSSKRRREEEEEEEE!!!
Black blood sprayed like an explosion, boiling the ground where it landed. Skarbrand thrashed wildly, bellowing in agony, clawing at his face as smoke rose from the ruined socket.
[Skarbrand]: YOU—FILTH—YOU'VE—
He didn't finish.
Because I was already gone. I warped behind him with Cosmic and Void Control, my remaining arm drawing the abyssal mana into a cyclone of razor-edged space.
[Grey]: You took something from me… So I'll take everything from you.
Skarbrand, half-blinded and howling with rage, swung blindly in a whirlwind of cursed steel. One of his axes—Carnage—finally found its mark.
SHHHHRRRAAKK!!!
The world tilted.
My lower half fell to the stone wall with a sickening, wet thud. My torso crashed nearby, twitching in a pool of my own blood. Smoke rose from the wound as the axe's corrupt enchantment hissed against my very soul.
Skarbrand towered over me, victorious in his madness.
[Skarbrand]: KHORNE WILL ACCEPT MY OFFERING NOW!! GIVE ME YOUR—
[Grey]: You're not… done with me…
A terrible silence fell. Then—
Devourer's Maw opened.
Aura of Insanity surged.
Hollow Form: Forced Override—ACTIVATED.
A hellish pulse of void energy erupted from my broken body, momentarily shrouding the battlefield in complete darkness. Tentacles laced with cosmic teeth erupted from the stone, latching onto Skarbrand's limbs—arms, legs, wings—binding him in place with unfathomable strength.
[Grey]: You don't get to kill me. You just made me angry.
My severed body rose into the air, suspended by my own will, warping back together with grotesque regeneration—flesh stitching, bones reforging, mana flaring so violently it ignited into black flame around me.
Then I was in front of him.
No weapons.
No spells.
Just me and him.
With a scream that shattered the air, I plunged both hands into his chest—past ribs, through molten flesh—and grabbed hold of something real.
His spine.
[Grey]: KHORNE'S NOT TAKING THIS ONE.
And with a roar of fury, I ripped it free.
Skarbrand's head came with it.
Black ichor exploded outward in a storm of death.
His body fell backward like a mountain collapsing—dead before it even hit the ground. The battlefield froze. Even demons hesitated. The sky blinked. Reality itself hiccupped.
I stood over the corpse, dripping in divine blood, holding the crimson skull of a demon in my hand.
[Grey]: Tell your god… I'm coming. Now… who's next?
My voice echoed across the burning battlefield like a death sentence. My smile—twisted, stained with blood, wide and wild—froze even the bravest of demonspawn in place. Lesser horrors shrieked in panic. Greater demons stepped back. Even the skies above churned with uneasy storms, as if the Realm of Chaos itself had flinched.
[Chapter end]