This is the bonus chapter for reaching 1950 Powerstones.
--
Vashtorr absolutely never expected that he would be seen through at a single glance by this human.
He had lied about possessing two fragments, originally intending to tip the scales of cooperation in his favor so he could strive for greater benefits in the subsequent negotiations.
Zeke, however, remained unrelenting. "Actually, the one who possesses two fragments is me, and perhaps we should also include the Lion."
The Lion? What does this have to do with the Lion?
Guilliman and Sanguinius cast puzzled gazes toward the Lord of the Dark Angels.
The Lion was also a bit confused. He mentally rummaged through all the items on his person, certain he possessed nothing akin to the fragments Zeke mentioned.
"I apologize to you first, Lion," Zeke turned to him. "Forgive me for using your homeworld as a bargaining chip."
Homeworld?! The reassembled Caliban was also a fragment of the Key!
The Lion first experienced a flash of sudden realization, which was immediately followed by a surge of fury erupting from his chest.
No wonder this Warp demigod had been so "kind" as to restore his shattered planet—it turned out He was after Caliban itself!
"Damn you!" the Lion roared, charging forward. "You Warp daemon, how dare you try to claim Caliban as your own!"
Sanguinius, quick-witted and sharp-eyed, intercepted him, using a pair of pristine white wings to tightly bind his enraged older brother.
The Lion's roars echoed across the deck, the edge of his sword merely a few steps away from Vashtorr.
But Vashtorr, at this moment, had no time to care about the Lion's anger. Right now, Zeke held two fragments in his hands, while he, Vashtorr, only had one.
"I have a better proposal," Zeke's voice broke the deadlock. "Rather than me giving the fragments to you, how about you give your fragment to me?"
"Impossible!" Vashtorr roared, making his final struggle.
"Even if I gave all the fragments to you, with your mediocre knowledge and crude skills, do you even know how to forge the three fragments together?!"
The keyword forge triggered Zeke's underlying logic. "You just said 'forge', didn't you?"
Zeke reached out and waved his hand. A perfectly square, wooden Crafting Table was placed right onto the deck. "Just use this."
Vashtorr could no longer maintain his composure. Did this human really think he couldn't tell this was made of wood?!
"You will regret this, human!" Vashtorr's voice boomed like a roaring furnace. "I have shown sufficient sincerity, yet your mouth is still full of lies."
Zeke unhurriedly checked JEI (Just Enough Items), confirming that the three fragments could indeed be crafted into the Key at a Crafting Table.
"Actually, what I'm saying is the truth."
Zeke seamlessly tucked the Explorer's Compass into his inventory without leaving a trace. "This Crafting Table is extremely important to me. The fact that I'm showing it to you is already proof enough of my sincerity."
Zeke even gave a live demonstration right on the spot, placing eight wooden planks on top of it to craft a chest.
If the compass hadn't pointed out that the final fragment was physically on Vashtorr's person, Zeke wouldn't have even bothered standing here talking cooperation with Him.
His main fear was that if he attacked and chased Vashtorr away, the fragment would disappear right along with Him.
A brief silence fell over the deck.
Vashtorr's expression flickered uncertainly. He had two choices.
The first: defeat these enemies before him and personally search for that fragment.
But there was a fatal problem. He had his senses fully open, yet he could not detect the slightest trace of the Tuchulcha Engine.
Heaven only knew where this human had hidden the engine; even He couldn't locate it.
If it weren't for this, why would He have ever laid out His entire plan so openly?
Did He only have the second choice: as this human suggested, hand over the initiative?
Unacceptable. He, Vashtorr, the Lord of the Soul Forges, was determined to become an entity on par with the four Chaos Gods. How could He suffer such a humiliating loss of face?
Vashtorr fiercely slammed the handle of His hammer onto the deck, His massive frame beginning to expand.
Blasphemous power surged from the depths of the Warp into His metallic chassis. Invasive, malicious scrapcode erupted from His body, spreading outward in all directions like a digital plague.
Everywhere on the deck, the barrels of the bolters held by the standby Space Marines began to glow red;
The tactical display of a Knight Titan flickered, its weapon systems rotating entirely on their own without an operator.
Piercing static hummed across the vox-channels. All machinery lost control in the presence of Vashtorr.
Vashtorr walked toward Zeke, step by heavy step.
His projected silhouette blotted out half the sky, and the hellfire wreathing His hammer, the Key to the Soul Forges, was hot enough to melt stars.
He lowered His head to pressure Zeke, wanting to make one final gamble to see if He could change Zeke's mind.
Zeke didn't show much of a reaction. He merely pulled out a bright red Potion of Strength, preparing to drink it.
Vashtorr's anger instantly deflated.
His voice dropped a few octaves, finding an out for Himself. "Could you let me observe this 'Crafting Table' of yours?"
Vashtorr stared at the chest that had just been conjured from eight blocks of wood on the Crafting Table.
He was born from the desires of sapient beings for the unknown and the impulse to create. The thirst for knowledge was the very foundation of His existence, so naturally, He developed an intense interest in the Crafting Table.
"Do you know what an STC (Standard Template Construct) template is?" Zeke explained. "The Crafting Table is similar to that, but far more convenient. As long as you have the recipe and the raw materials, you can bypass the entire manufacturing process and directly obtain the final result."
Zeke kindly introduced the Crafting Table's function to Vashtorr—and then immediately mined it and put it away right in front of His face, refusing to let Vashtorr study it.
"Give me the final fragment first, and then we'll talk about the rest."
Vashtorr suppressed His churning emotions. He remained silent for a long time, while the machinery disrupted by His scrapcode autonomously returned to normal.
"Very well." He extended His hand, and Chaos energy began to gather in His palm.
A parchment contract slowly emerged from the light, stretching longer and longer from top to bottom, reaching a full dozen meters in length before floating in front of Zeke.
"We need to sign a Warp contract." Vashtorr's voice regained its former, imposing majesty.
"I promise, in exchange for certain forbidden technologies and artifacts from the vault... Human, what is your name? Write it down here."
Zeke looked down at the dozen-meter-long parchment contract, took a step back, and showed absolutely no intention of signing any contract whatsoever.
"Hey, hey, hey, Vashtorr," his tone carried a hint of playful mockery. "You still haven't figured out the situation, have you?"
Vashtorr's anger flared up again. "So all I am getting is a verbal promise?!"
"I, Zeke, never lie." Zeke patted his chest. "You can rest assured on that front."
After a long time, Vashtorr's voice sounded again. This time, there was no anger, only a near-resigned exhaustion.
"But I want to see that Crafting Table first," He added, His tone carrying a trace of stubbornness.
Once I find the Old Ones' vault, I'll dispose of this human, Vashtorr thought viciously in his heart.
Once I gather all the Key fragments to the Old Ones' vault, I'll directly dispose of Vashtorr, Zeke thought, even more ruthlessly.
--
Next Goal = 2100 Powerstones.
If we somehow reach TOP 3 before the reset I will upload 3 more bonus chapters excluding the normal bonus chapter.