Zeke offered no further explanation. Finally, he slapped the Na Tag onto Tzeentch.
"You're not going to run?" Zeke glanced at Tzeentch's na; this one was genuine.
"Running is useless. The Well of Destiny has already revealed the final outco. No matter where I flee, I will ultimately be caught by you," Tzeentch stated.
Zeke shook his head, unsure whether to call Him clever or foolish. Now that the four gods had been nad, the final purge could begin.
Zeke typed the command into the Command Block:
/kill
He then appended the nas of the four gods one by one and activated the Command Block.
Tzeentch didn't get to utter a single word. Like a pencil mark erased by a rubber, His figure was simply deleted, leaving behind not a single trace of sound.
The other three gods t the exact sa fate. The process was so fast, so sudden, that They didn't even have ti to register shock before Their end arrived.
Commands existed purely for the sake of convenience, so there was no grand spectacle—only the cleanest, most efficient result.
The four gods perished, severed at their very roots by Zeke. Their domains also began to gradually collapse.
The daemons that sustained themselves on the power of the four gods disintegrated and faded away. The once-bustling Warp montarily fell into dead silence; all things were extinguished.
Zeke turned back to look at the silent Warp. With the four greatest sources of negative emotions eradicated, the balance of the Warp had been restored.
Roughly estimating, the human world might have just bought itself several thousand years of relative peace.
But hidden within the dark corners of the Warp were still many deep-seated malices and minor gods ford from negative emotions. They were gathering their strength, and sooner or later, they would make a coback.
Simultaneously, a new set of four gods would eventually return as negative emotions accumulated once more.
Everything seed to be a cycle. Zeke had rely postponed the inevitable.
This thod of treating the symptoms rather than the root cause had never suited Zeke's tastes.
Zeke stared at the domains of the four gods dissipating before his eyes, his mind racing.
Suddenly, an idea struck like a flash of lightning.
The Warp was a mirror of the emotions in the material world. Therefore, intense emotions and willpower could cause the Warp to change.
Just as the four gods had used Their own will to construct Their own domains within the Warp...
What about , Zeke?
The mont this thought ford, the Warp provided an imdiate response. It had always welcod any resident possessing sufficient strength.
The Warp was a realm of pure willpower. There was no such thing as brick, stone, or soil here; everything was forged by will.
The four gods had each used Their will and divine power to shape domains that bore Their unique characteristics.
Nurgle's territory was forever perated with decay, while Khorne's domain echoed with the ceaseless sounds of slaughter year after year, its fires of war never extinguishing.
So, what was the will of Zeke, who had activated Creative Mode?
It was the will of a Creator God.
This will was vast and majestic, surpassing even that of the four gods. Combined with the fact that the four gods had just perished, the largest portion of the Warp's territory was conveniently ownerless.
Thus, Zeke's domain erged—a vast world woven from pixels and stacked with blocks.
Its sheer scale left the combined territories of the four gods far behind in the dust.
"This small? Who are you looking down on?"
Even though this domain was larger than the four gods' domains combined, Zeke remained dissatisfied. Even if it were expanded a thousand or a million tis over, he would not be satisfied.
Because what he wanted was not a tiny patch of real estate handed out as charity by the Warp.
Furthermore, this domain was, at best, "rented" to Zeke by the Warp; it didn't truly belong to him.
So, Zeke forced his own will upon the Warp. He was going to correct the Warp's behavior. Since it wouldn't give it to him, Zeke would just take it himself.
This action t with resistance from the Warp.
The Warp possessed no true rationality or sapience, but it still had a reaction closer to pure instinct—a chanical, passive response to external stimuli.
It was sowhat akin to a paracium seeking advantage and avoiding harm. Zeke's action was clearly a "harm," and it incited the Warp's fury. (TL/N: Doctor's Assemble)
The Warp roared and trembled, bearing down on Zeke with all its power. Terrifying psychic tides crashed forward one after another.
One wave had barely subsided before another rose, each more turbulent and violent than the last, seeking to bury the arrogant Zeke.
It wasn't just Zeke who felt the pressure. In the material world, psykers sensitive to the Warp, and even so dull-minded mortals, felt this oppressive weight emanating from the Immaterium.
Yet the footsteps of Zeke's will never ceased.
No one had ever dared to fight the entire Warp single-handedly. It was a path untrodden, unprecedented in history and unrepeatable in the future.
Since there was no path, Zeke would carve one out himself.
Hewing a road through the void, he forcibly forged his own trajectory.
No matter how the Warp churned and roared, Zeke remained entirely unmoved. Had it been any of the four gods, They would have likely succumbed long ago.
This was a silent war. There was no flash of blades, only a head-on collision of two wills, stirring up monstrous, world-shaking waves in the intangible depths.
During the clash of wills, a vague but intense concept continuously surfaced in Zeke's mind. Translated into words, it roughly ant:
"What exactly is it that you want?"
This was the Warp questioning Zeke.
Zeke didn't answer the Warp's question. Instead, he pointed a finger at it and spoke a single sentence:
"This is my world."
Standing tall between heaven and earth, pointing at the entirety of the Warp, Zeke uttered that sentence.
At that mont, Zeke's will poured forth like a flood bursting a dam.
It was Zeke's will, and it was the will of a Creator God. The two rged into one, intertwining in this instant to form a force capable of shaking the very foundations of the Warp.
The entire Warp violently quaked.
Fighting tooth and nail, the Warp finally completely understood what Zeke wanted.
When the four gods arrived, They were nothing more than tenants; it just collected a bit more rent.
But now, Zeke didn't want to rent. He wanted to pocket the entire Warp and make it his exclusive property. How could this be allowed?!
The Warp unleashed a counterattack—an ancient, primordial pressure unseen by anyone from antiquity to the present, a power heavier than ten millennia of history. It was the ultimate killing move of the entire Warp.
In the contest of wills, the power of the Warp infiltrated Zeke, seeking to disintegrate him from within and shatter his mind.
If it could force even the slightest crack in Zeke's conviction, the Warp would win.
Illusions surfaced before Zeke's eyes. Guilliman, Cow, and the faces of those who had once fought alongside him erged from the depths of his mory, yet they bore expressions he had never seen on them before.
Their eyes were filled with disdain and revulsion.
"Everything you have done is not saving us, but destroying us."
"You're wrong," Zeke calmly accepted the illusions. "Perhaps I never intended to save you in the first place."
Just like the villagers in Minecraft. So players slaughtered villages for fun, so turned them into endless breeding machines, while others built them grand houses, traded with them, and protected them.
Salvation and destruction had always been separated by rely a single thought. A player did whatever they wanted to do.
"Because this is my world."
Not only did the Warp's Illusions fail, but it resulted in Zeke hamring the ideological brand of Minecraft deeper and centing it more firmly into place.
Seeing this, the Warp hatched another plan.
From a deep, dark crevice, it had glimpsed Zeke's very first conversation with the Emperor. From this, it learned that Zeke's power originated from a ga called Minecraft.
This is rely a ga. One day, you will grow tired of it.
"Perhaps," Zeke remained utterly unfazed. "Perhaps there really will co a day when I tire of this ga."
"But so what?"
"Everything that happened in Minecraft, the traces of my existence there, the structures I created, the stories I experienced... I will never forget them, and I will always love them."
"Because that is... Minecraft—My World."
All of the Warp's interrogations were utterly crushed by Zeke's single phrase: My World.
Not only did it fail to corrupt Zeke, but it was gradually being assimilated by the answer: My World.
My World echoed, reverberated, and perated through the Warp ti and ti again.
The churning tides of the Warp gradually subsided, turning into ripples, then whispers, and finally into an endless, echoing loop:
My World... My World...
And so, the Warp truly beca Zeke's world.
Zeke could achieve this because he was inherently a Creator God. Creating a world was effortless for him; making a world submit was even more so.
Everything settled into dust.
The entire Warp crouched obediently beneath Zeke's hand, like a docile kitten.
Power surged from within Zeke's body. His eyes widened.
By gaining the submission of the Warp, I can freely create objects within this space!!!
What incredible power!
...Wait, wasn't this sothing I could ALREADY do after turning on Creative Mode?
And it actually seems worse, because objects created using Warp power aren't true physical entities; they'll just dissipate the mont they leave the Warp.
Zeke was rendered sowhat speechless, but he didn't dwell on it. Right now, he had sothing more important to do: fulfill the duty of a Creator God and give the Warp a complete makeover.
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