2nd Primarch

Dukel felt that his relationship with the Divine Emperor was now crystal clear.

The Emperor didn't treat him as a son, and he didn't see the Emperor as his father. With such a relationship, they could skip the formalities and get straight to the point.

For example, Dukel wanted to ask about the original body's lost memory.

But just as he was about to broach the topic, something unexpected occurred.

"Boom!"

A thunderous sound erupted as their psychic communication space trembled violently, growing increasingly unstable. It felt as though a powerful will from the outside world was attempting to breach their connection.

At the same time, four vast, shadowy figures flickered in and out of the space.

—Your friends Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle, and Tzeentch have applied to join the group chat.

"Damn it, those four dogs caught the scent!" Dukel's face darkened as he observed the unfolding scene.

"I agree. They're indeed four pieces of trash," the Emperor responded, his golden light flickering in what seemed to be amusement.

Wasting no time, the Emperor continued speaking rapidly.

"As you can see, time is running out. I'll be brief."

"Dukel, you've been doing well. Keep it up. Continue gathering the faith of the Empire's people before things become irreversible. ASAP."

"My time is running out."

As the psychic space collapsed further, the Emperor's signal grew distorted. His words became fragmented, chaotic, and difficult to decipher. But Dukel managed to piece together the message.

After the final words were spoken, the communication space shattered entirely, and Dukel's consciousness returned to the real universe.

Reflecting on the Emperor's words, Dukel muttered to himself, "What exactly do you mean, old man? Don't rush back to Terra? Focus on gaining the support of the people instead? And what's this about running out of time?"

A wild thought crossed his mind. Could it be that after thousands of years of being worshipped by humanity, the Emperor was finally reaching his limit and preparing to rise from the Golden Throne?

"And those four idiots... damn them!" Dukel clenched his fists, frustration simmering within him.

The interference from the Chaos Gods had cost him the opportunity to extract long-buried secrets from the Emperor. But there was no time to dwell on the matter.

Back in the room, Efilar, the senior nun, remained deep in prayer, waiting for Dukel's blessing. Without the Emperor's blessing, her mortal body, ravaged by time, could no longer sustain itself. She was dying.

Dukel's will descended upon her room.

Efilar was now gaunt and frail, yet she maintained her posture, eyes closed, and lips moving in silent prayer as though oblivious to her body's decline.

Efilar's current rank was that of a Grand Nun. With unwavering faith and battlefield merit, she was on the path to becoming a Living Saint.

But by relinquishing the Emperor's blessing, she had essentially walked away from a guaranteed ascension. It was akin to leaving a well-established company as a senior executive with the potential to become CEO, only to join a fledgling startup with uncertain prospects.

Still, Dukel would not let her sacrifice go unrewarded. She deserved a position equivalent to that of a Living Saint.

For the first time, Dukel would grant a blessing of this magnitude.

He began channeling his vast power:

Life Magnetic Field: 50,000 horsepower, maxed out.Spiritual Training Technique: Third energy level of fetal breathing, maxed out.Soul Fire, maxed out.Mind Matrix, maxed out.Psychic Fire Magic, full enhancement.

Efilar's frail body swelled with energy. Her emaciated form filled out, vitality returning with astonishing speed. Her will, already unshakable, grew immeasurably stronger.

An overwhelming surge of power flooded her being, eliciting an involuntary moan of pleasure.

And yet, the blessing continued.

Dukel hesitated when it came to the Heart Network Feedback Module, a feature he had initially designed for himself. It siphoned 1% of the practice progress from all Heart Network members, accumulating immense energy over time.

He cautiously set the feedback rate to 0.1%.

Efilar groaned in pain as the overwhelming energy coursed through her. Despite her immense willpower, the sheer force was almost too much to bear.

"Not bad," Dukel observed, pleased. "Let's try 0.2%."

At this adjustment, Efilar screamed in agony. The immense power tore through her body, leaving cracks across her skin that exuded a scarlet mist instead of blood.

"Damn it, she's going to explode!" Dukel muttered. "Just hold on a little longer."

From deep within the warp, Dukel's essence peeled off a fragment of energy. Minuscule by his standards, it was like shedding a flake of skin, yet its significance was immense.

The energy transformed into a singular eye, which shot into Efilar's body.

In an instant, an indescribable aura radiated from her, filling the room. The cracks on her skin vanished, and her body began to glow with a dazzling light. Her skin became flawless, resembling pure white porcelain, while a pair of wings made entirely of soul fire unfurled from her shoulders.

Her transformation was complete.

Barely audible whispers filled the air, layered and harmonious:

Those who hear its sound are blessed.Those who heed its words will never stray.Those who receive its gift will triumph always.

It was the hymn of Dukel.

Even Dukel, the architect of this miracle, was momentarily stunned. Efilar had ascended from mortal to demigod.

At this level, she could easily stand against the likes of Lorgar.

No, she could annihilate him.

This was no mere Living Saint. This was a masterpiece—a testament to Dukel's unmatched power.