The Only Player in Warhammer Chapter 196 196:

A loli-shaped girl appeared in the void—Mountain Spirit. The mont she manifested, she drew everyone's attention. Behind the mountainous silhouette, countless guns and cannons were arrayed, all firing in unison at her command.

Plasma beams streaked across the void, trailing tails of scorching fla. The thick laser rays were so blindingly bright that staring directly at them would cause instant blindness and screams of agony. Eerie purple particle beams disintegrated everything in their path. Rays wreathed in auras of destruction intertwined, forming a deadly net that slamd into the planetary-scale undead warship's shields.

Ripples spread across the shield's surface in an instant. Physical ordnance followed: city-sized long-range missiles, macro-shells the size of transport containers, and Nova shells stretching fifty ters long. Each trailed long tails of fla as they hurtled toward their targets like a teor shower.

Rotary cannons spewed impenetrable streams of tal, weaving a burning curtain that pulverized the undead warriors in their path.

anwhile, the mountainous terrain that had transford into a gigantic loli moved with terrifying speed, disrupting the fabric of space and ti. In her hands she wielded a colossal chainsword several kiloters long, its hilt thicker than her entire body. Its jagged teeth spun at incredible speed, emitting a deep, thunderous roar.

She charged toward the planetary-scale undead warship at astonishing velocity. The thrusters on her back granted mobility far beyond anything an ordinary person could imagine. Several undead vessels tried to intercept her, but the roaring chainsword swept them aside like toys tossed into an industrial shredder. Hulls of living tal burst apart with ear-splitting screeches and explosive energy shorts, instantly reduced to clouds of dust mixed with green electrical arcs and tal fragnts.

The planetary-scale undead warship unleashed city-destroying attacks, most of which Mountain Spirit dodged while her own shields blocked the rest. She closed the distance in monts and collided with the vessel. A terrifying energy shockwave spread slowly, erupting in a flash as bright as a supernova.

"Xenos scum, taste the Emperor's wrath!"

"I am the Shield of Terra! I am Mountain Spirit! I am the Will of Stone!"

The voice emanating from the mountainous form traveled through a special channel, resonating in the hearts of all humanity. It carried the fury of the Emperor and the roar of mankind's indignation.

This mountain range had witnessed the collapse of humanity's first empire. It had seen the reunion of the Emperor and Rogal Dorn. It had witnessed the Emperor and the Primarchs fighting alongside the Imperial Fists. It had observed the glorious Great Crusade, when humanity was freed from the Long Night and reunited once more. It had also borne witness to the Horus Heresy, when the Emperor's loyalists battled gods and traitors.

She was Mountain Spirit—the embodint of warfare, the manifestation of humanity's eternal rage. Her mission in this world was to raise her sword against the enemies of humanity and the Emperor.

The Mountain Spirit's eyes blazed with golden flas as both hands gripped the sword's hilt tightly. The spinning chainsword rose high and slamd down toward the massive shield.

The instant the chainsword's teeth made contact with the necromantic shield, a dazzling white light erupted, rivaling the core of a supernova. The shield's surface storm of lightning was forcibly torn apart and annihilated. The resulting shockwave from the violent energy exchange spread spherically, blasting away and shattering all nearby floating debris.

With a single sword strike, the shield shuddered violently and was montarily plunged into darkness. A second blow left visible dents and cracks, with green energy spurting from the fissures like blood. On the third strike, the petite Mountain Spirit unleashed astonishing power, driving the chainsword deep into the shield before suddenly yanking it horizontally!

The planetary-scale undead warship's super-shield—powerful enough to withstand a fleet salvo—produced a massive crack hundreds of kiloters long, forcibly torn open while radiating green and white energy.

The immortal overlords who witnessed this froze in stunned silence. The necromancers responsible for maintaining the warship stared in disbelief at the blonde loli swinging an absurdly oversized chainsword. Their logic cores, built on absolute rationality, suffered catastrophic overload and burned out, forcing them into repair furnaces.

The Imperial fleet fell equally silent. On the bridges, only the low hum of instrunts and the crew's ragged breathing remained. Captains stood dumbfounded, unable to issue a single order for a long ti. mbers of the chanicus—whether sages or tech-priests—sang hymns praising the great Omnissiah.

Mountain Spirit's attacks continued relentlessly, wave after wave, like an tireless berserker. She plunged the chainsword into the shield's cracks and savagely hacked at the planetary warship's hull. Each strike sent sprays of living tal fragnts, gouts of green energy from ruptured conduits, and fireballs from exploding structures.

The once-dreaded vessel that had brought despair to the Imperial fleet now resembled a giant log being felled by a chainsaw. It shuddered amid the roar of the chainsword and the flas of explosions before shattering into pieces.

Finally, an internal strike pierced the core structure, triggering a catastrophic chain reaction. A green resonant explosion brighter than a star erupted from within. The entire warship was torn apart from the inside, transforming into a destructive sphere of light that expanded endlessly, consuming everything.

Shield fragnts and wreckage scattered in all directions like shrapnel from the blast. When the light faded, only drifting, slowly cooling tal debris remained in the void.

Mountain Spirit stood amid the aftershocks of the explosion, her long golden hair whipping violently in the surging energy. The chainsword in her hand slowly stopped spinning, its teeth coated in evaporated and condensed Xenos tal residue.

"Has the battle ended? Has the final chapter concluded?"

The light around Mountain Spirit flickered again. The gigantic loli form rapidly collapsed and restructured, returning to her mountainous terrain appearance.

Garadon recovered from the shock and imdiately issued orders. "All Imperial vessels, follow Mountain Spirit's lead! Annihilate the remaining enemy forces and completely purge them from the planet Paradis!"

The surviving undead fleet had long since lost the will to fight. The sight of Mountain Spirit transforming into a blonde loli and pulverizing a warship with a chainsword had shattered their worldview, collapsing the very logic at the core of countless undead commanders and overlords. Even the Silent King seed to be questioning the aning of existence.

After the battle, the atmosphere on the bridge of HMS Mountain was entirely different. When people's gazes fell on the blonde girl quietly sitting in the custom high chair beside the main control panel, what remained in their eyes was pure awe mixed with a hint of absurdity.

Don't be fooled by her small size. Even seated in the chair, her tiny white legs dangled without reaching the floor, swinging slightly. Yet this was the rciless foe capable of carving apart a planetary-scale undead warship with a blade.

That realization echoed in everyone's hearts, dispelling all doubts.

"In the current situation, this is nothing—child's play," Mountain Spirit said as she began her post-battle report to the gathered high-ranking commanders, including Garadon, Valerian, and Aleya. "Once I fully master this body and am in perfect condition, I'll take a knife and carve my way from the southern to the northern edge of the Milky Way Galaxy. I'll repeat the process for many years."

A young tech priest stood nearby, his eyes filled with reverence and lingering piety. Unconsciously, he interjected weakly, "When chopping firewood for a long ti, don't your wrist joints and energy conduits start to ache or overheat?"

Mountain Spirit's golden eyes widened instantly. She jumped down from the chair, planted her hands on her hips, and looked up at the machine priest. "I said I'm slashing traitors and xenos, and you're asking if my hands hurt?"

"Is that the point? The point is my resolve, my strength, my—"

The little mountain's mouth was like a machine gun. Once it started firing—once she began talking—the conversation grew longer and easily derailed. It shifted from practical combat techniques to historical anecdotes, then to criticism of the lack of innovation in current warship design.

Garadon and the others had started out serious and attentive. But as they listened, the corners of their mouths began twitching uncontrollably. Their gazes gradually shifted from reverence to deep helplessness and existential doubt.

Aleya secretly touched Valerian's armored arm and whispered sothing. Her words were faster than a rapid-fire cannon. Valerian nodded in agreent.

The Imperial Fists led by Garadon felt sothing off about the eloquent Mountain Spirit. Since Mountain Spirit was the glorious monastery of the Imperial Fists, how could its will manifest as a chatty, arrogant loli? This personality clashed entirely with the calm, resolute, and taciturn traditions of the Imperial Fists.

Datch stood nearby, nodding in satisfaction. When Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, eventually returned in the future… he would surely be deeply moved upon seeing the Mountain Spirit transform into a cute, lovable, talkative loli ship-girl. Gaining a daughter in his later years would surely bring him unparalleled joy.

Datch opened the minimap to look for tasks and noticed a golden question mark on the Terra Glory. "Has the Lion side already updated a new task so quickly?"

"Didn't the Thousand Eyes battle clan get wiped out long ago?"

Muttering to himself, Datch took out his teleport gun and teleported directly there.

...

The atmosphere in the Grand Strategy Room aboard the Terra Glory was tense and delicate.

Lion El'Jonson stood quietly gazing at the star-filled sky beyond the observation window. His dignified face was now filled with irritation and deep helplessness.

A massive Dark Angels fortress had suddenly appeared, confronting the Imperial Navy led by the Terra Glory. Supre Commander Azrael had ordered continuous broadcasts to all Imperial warships facing the Stone Fortress:

"Let reiterate: the Dark Angels swear absolute loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor. There are no Fallen Angels. Primarch Lion El'Jonson has not returned. This is all a lie of Chaos."

"In the na of His Majesty the Emperor, all Imperial vessels are to support the First Legion and arrest the impostor and his accomplices in treachery! This is the highest priority…"

Every ti these words repeated, Lion's mouth twitched. He sincerely felt that the galaxy ten thousand years later was completely hostile toward him. He could understand why the Fallen like Zabriel and Seraphax hated him so much. He had been exiled during the Great Crusade and triggered the Caliban civil war. Long-held grudges do not fade easily, so it was natural for people to hate him.

But against those Dark Angels in the Stone Fortress, he could do nothing! rely claiming to be Lion El'Jonson caused them to imdiately brand him an impostor. The Fallen were supposedly Changeling to deceive the world for so conspiracy. Even testimony from the courts, the chanicus, and other Space Marine chapters was useless.

Azrael and the Dark Angels refused to believe it, their stubbornness unbearable. They insisted on executing him with the Great General Cannon.

Was I really that terrible ten thousand years ago?

Self-doubt sprouted in the Lion King's heart, but it was quickly replaced by irritation. This situation was even more troubleso than facing the forces of Chaos.

Datch teleported aboard the Terra Glory and imdiately understood what had happened. Then he did sothing that left Lion speechless—it summoned a spirit of transformation, recounted all the events, and led to the two of them laughing together.

Seeing this, Lion was rendered mute. One person laughing was bad enough, but another joining in was simply too much. The Changeling spirit laughed so hard it could barely breathe. It had never imagined its ticulously crafted, complex conspiracy would end like this. The dramatic absurdity far surpassed the casual trap Lion El'Jonson had dug ten thousand years ago.

Ten thousand years earlier, Lion had established the Inner Circle system, shaping the mysterious and suspicious nature of the Dark Angels. The harsh treatnt he had inflicted on Luther, Astelan, and many others had left a deep impression on their descendants: "The Primarch never forgives any betrayal."

For Azrael's Dark Angels, a Lion El'Jonson who forgave the Fallen and absolved their sins was undoubtedly a fake. The true Lion King should roar, swing his massive lion-fist, join the hunt, and slaughter all the Fallen.

After laughing for a while, Datch stopped and walked over to Lion. "Ah, respected commander of the Second Empire, great lord of Caliban, suffering father rejected by his own children—is there anything I can do for you?"

Lion took a deep breath, suppressed the urge to throw the smirking man and the Changeling creature out of the room, and spoke. "Summon Azrael, the supre leader of the Dark Angels, and have him co see ."

"Once we et, he will sense it and understand… that I am Lion El'Jonson. He can end this foolish stalemate and prevent Imperial soldiers from killing each other."

[Mission: Assist Lion El'Jonson in resolving the internal division within the Dark Angels and atoning for past mistakes.]

The Dark Angels led by Azrael did not believe in Lion El'Jonson's return and viewed it as a conspiracy by the Fallen. Please arrange a eting between Azrael and Lion El'Jonson to clear up the misunderstanding.

[Task Rewards: 1300 points, 1300 experience, 300 reputation points, 1 telephone booth.]

"Commander, it is an honor to be of service." Datch accepted the mission, took out his teleport gun, set the coordinates, and began teleporting.

A flash of green light appeared, and Datch materialized in the strategy room deep within the Stone Fortress.

The interior was dimly lit, filled with the scents of incense, aged parchnt, and tal. Beside the tactical round table in the center stood five Dark Angels: Supre Grand Master Azrael, Deathwing Grand Master Belial, Ravenwing Grand Master Sammael, Chief Confessor Asmodai, and Chief Curator of the Treasury Ezekiel.

Datch's sudden appearance imdiately drew the attention of the six n.

"Naless One, you dare show yourself."

"Hand over the Fallen. Otherwise, we will have no face to show the Regent."

Azrael unhesitatingly leveled his combi-bolter. Datch chuckled at the NPC's threat. The Dark Angels had grown far too arrogant—they were even threatening the Player.

"If you have the courage to fire, I'll turn the story of how you blew up Caliban into a comic, divide it into 9 chapters and 27 sections, and distribute it to everyone for free. Then the whole galaxy will know what the Dark Angels did."

Datch looked at Azrael and spoke in a threatening tone. Heh heh heh, Azrael, wouldn't you hate it if that disloyalty beca public?

"What nonsense are you spouting!" Azrael trembled with rage, his voice distorted by anger. "Caliban was destroyed in war ten thousand years ago. It was Chaos's doing—the sins of the traitors. What does that have to do with us? Stop slandering us here."

"Your Excellency, it would be best not to fire," said Ezekiel, the one speaking earlier.

Azrael angrily turned toward Ezekiel to rebuke him. At that exact mont, he saw Ezekiel's face. It held not only embarrassnt but also terror and unease. Azrael's heart sank as an ominous premonition struck him.

Ezekiel glanced around at those present, confirming the secret would not leak, before speaking. "Your Excellency… what that Naless One said… may be true."

"What?!" Azrael asked in a low voice. The others also turned to Ezekiel.

Ezekiel's voice grew even lower. "Do you rember when Lord Cypher fell into our trap at the end of the 41st Millennium?"

He looked around and whispered, "Do you rember when Lord Cypher fell into our trap and we sent him to the Caliban system along with the Tuchulcha Engine…"

Azrael frowned as past mories flashed through his mind. It had happened at the end of the 41st Millennium. At the ti, the Dark Angels had captured the infamous Fallen Astelan and used him as bait to lure others. Lord Cypher had unexpectedly appeared to surrender, claiming he had been led there by the Dark Watchers after learning of the Tuchulcha Engine's existence.

In the end, Azrael had been persuaded. The Dark Angels and Devotees returned to the Caliban system together. But when they arrived, Typhus had also appeared with his plague fleet and plague planet. The three relics—Caliban's symbol Ouroboros, the plague planet born from the plague heart, and the Tuchulcha Engine hidden inside the Stone Fortress—reappeared in the Caliban system. Guided by an evil ritual, they opened a ti tunnel to ten thousand years earlier.

However, the battlefield situation eventually spiraled out of control. Lord Cypher escaped again and traveled through the ti portal to ten thousand years ago in search of answers to certain questions. The captured Fallen Astelan had planned to bring all the Fallen from ten thousand years ago to the 41st Millennium, then launch a new crusade to crush the Imperium and Chaos and restore the Emperor's power.

To prevent the expansion of the spaceti tunnel and foil Astelan's conspiracy, with the help of the Dark Watchers, Azrael had no choice but to order the destruction of the ti portal sustained by the three artifacts. The resulting spaceti chaos split Caliban during the civil war.

Upon learning the full story, Azrael fell silent, eyes wide, his face paling like a corpse. The others were even more shocked. Though they struggled to believe Ezekiel's words, upon careful reflection, it seed entirely plausible. After all, existing records suggested the Lion's fleet had never intended to destroy Caliban. Caliban had been torn apart by the subsequent warp storm.

Ezekiel wore a bitter expression. "Previously, the mory fragnts were too chaotic, like a nightmare, so I couldn't be certain. It wasn't until this Naless One described it so accurately that I realized… it may not have been a nightmare, but actual history."

The inner strategy room fell into complete silence. The six leaders were mute, their expressions showing uncertainty. They had spent their lives hunting the Fallen, only to realize now that the greatest Fallen was themselves.

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