[Cooldown Time: 244 Hours]
[Would you like to consume Resource Time?]
Zaire stared at the remaining cooldown time displayed on the simulator.
His gaze then shifted to the 1,009 hours of resource time still available.
Without hesitation, he consumed the resource time, instantly removing the cooldown.
However, Zaire did not immediately begin the simulation.
He was more interested in the only surviving Void Wolf at the moment.
After completing his usual silent prayer, he reopened the simulator and made his selection.
[Simulation Initiating—]
[Current Available Identity: Void Wolf Bloodclaw (Warp)]
[Please choose your incarnation identity.]
[If refused, a random identity will be assigned.]
[Chosen Incarnation: Void Wolf Bloodclaw]
[Simulation Initiating—]
[You have once again descended into the Warhammer Universe.]
[Time: Unknown]
[Location: Unknown]
[You have arrived in the Warp for the first time.]
[Warp currents hurl you into an uncharted realm.]
[You are gravely wounded.]
[You are on the brink of death.]
[You are in a state of suspended animation.]
[Yet, you do not perish.]
[An immensely powerful psychic force envelops your nearly shattered Astartes body.]
[It floods you with boundless vitality, rekindling the dying embers of your soul.]
[You abruptly open your glowing cyan wolf eyes.]
[Your fangs glint slightly as you gasp for air.]
[Instinctively, you tighten your grip on the power axe—Frostfang.]
[Your vision, still hazy, scans your surroundings.]
[Before you lies a shifting expanse of multicolored clouds, interwoven with ethereal, flowing streams of energy that seem almost alive.]
[Your nose twitches subconsciously.]
[Your enhanced senses detect no scent.]
[You struggle upright, your master-crafted power armor battered but functional.]
[Your cyan wolf eyes narrow warily, scanning the surreal environment.]
[Everywhere you look, shifting mirages flicker like illusions—blood-red volcanoes, lush gardens, ornate ringed palaces, and towering crystalline spires.]
[You take a deep breath.]
[You realize that only the five-meter void beneath you offers any tangible footing.]
[You gradually accept the reality before you.]
[Planting Frostfang into the ground, you kneel and offer a devout prayer to the Emperor.]
["The Emperor protects..."]
[At that moment, the misty phantoms before you begin to part, revealing a dim, gray passage.]
[You catch a glimpse of a towering figure walking ahead.]
[He wears an ancient Aegis-pattern Terminator armor.]
[In his left hand, he carries an immense storm shield.]
[On his right shoulder rests a gleaming Nemesis Sword—his storm bolter swaying rhythmically at his waist.]
[Above his power pack, a crimson banner flutters, bearing the sigil of an unknown warband.]
[You hear him occasionally hum an ancient hymn.]
[You believe this is the Emperor's guidance.]
[Without hesitation, you charge into the passage.]
[The towering warrior senses your presence.]
[He halts, turning slightly.]
[You see his aged, silver-bearded face—deep eyes shining like twin stars.]
["Hmm...?" He blinks in confusion.]
[But just as you attempt to speak—]
[The gray passage trembles violently.]
[The Astartes warrior frowns and dashes toward you.]
[But he is too late.]
[In an instant, the scene before you fractures and collapses into chaos.]
[When your vision stabilizes, you find yourself in a nightmarish land.]
[The sky burns with crimson light, the ground is cracked with molten lava, and towering volcanoes spew endless fire.]
[You narrow your cyan wolf eyes.]
[You inhale deeply, the air thick with sulfur and the stench of daemons.]
[Your grip tightens around Frostfang.]
[After a brief hesitation, you step forward, beginning your exploration.]
[Leaping over a river of molten rock, your boots sink into knee-deep volcanic ash.]
[Fragments of ceramite plating crack and flake off your battle-worn armor, vanishing into the lava below.]
[You pay no mind.]
[Stepping onto a jagged obsidian boulder, you suddenly spot a group of newborn Bloodletters forging Hellblades.]
[Your unexpected presence draws their ravenous eyes.]
[Abandoning their unfinished weapons, they charge at you, wielding crude tools and unsharpened blades.]
[You bare your fangs.]
[With a snarl, you swing Frostfang and leap into the fray.]
[For the first time, the power axe drinks deep of daemon blood, unleashing its true, terrifying potential.]
[In mere seconds, nearly thirty Bloodletters are hewn apart, their wounds laced with creeping frost.]
[This is Frostfang's unique power.]
[You exhale, wiping daemon blood from your cheek.]
[But suddenly, a scorching, violent force surges within you.]
[It courses through every fiber of your being.]
[Your cyan wolf eyes widen in shock.]
[A fleeting whisper of praise echoes in your mind.]
[Your jaws clench as your will is pushed to its limits.]
[The flame of your soul flickers, on the verge of extinguishing.]
[Then, without warning—]
[A surge of Warp fire erupts from the depths of your soul, expelling the invading force.]
[That malevolent energy is forcefully siphoned into Frostfang.]
[You regain control.]
[Breathing heavily, you kneel, panting.]
[Your gaze falls upon your weapon.]
[Frostfang has changed.]
[The once ice-blue gem at its core now pulses with a deep, blood-red glow.]
[The runes across its blade—once sacred sigils—have twisted into X-shaped, unholy symbols.]
[You understand their meaning in an instant.]
[They represent an eternal truth...]
[Khorne.]
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