Even a Primarch would never imagine that a power capable of shielding itself from the Warp existed in this world, or that it could silently break through every defense and reach this place.
Thinking this, Lancelot swept away every last concern in his mind.
Without hesitation, he quickly stepped forward and entered the room.
After entering and looking around, he realized that this place was not merely a bedroom meant for rest.
It was more like an exhibition hall.
Because of that, the astonishment in Lancelot’s heart grew even stronger.
That was because every object inside had actually been handmade by the Primarchs.
A statue of the Emperor, with the base marked as Rogal Dorn’s work.
A city planning diagram by Perturabo hanging on the wall.
A scripture radiating faint motes of golden light, and Lancelot clearly saw the name Lorgar written on it.
Aside from these, there were also several exquisite weapons, gleaming with a cold edge at a single glance.
They were obviously treasures.
But Lancelot did not dare act recklessly.
He did his utmost to suppress the urge to let his hands wander where they should not, carefully scanning the entire room.
Suddenly, in one corner, Lancelot discovered a laurel crown made primarily of white feathers and gold.
The pure white feathers had not been crudely fixed into place.
They still retained their lightness and softness, and under the refraction of sunlight, they shimmered with a layer of golden radiance.
Like a pair of wings guarding the soul, they encircled the golden laurel.
It would never wither, and no dust would stain it.
Even in shadow, a faint golden glow flowed across it.
Set upon it were special gems from Baal, dazzlingly bright and giving off an indescribable sense of comfort.
This couldn’t be something Sanguinius made from his own feathers, could it…?
A treasure of this level would make the Blood Angels howl with excitement if they saw it.
After all, following the Great Heresy, the Great Angel had been beaten into pulp by Horus, who had the blessing of all four Chaos Gods.
In the Blood Angels Legion, even a single pure feather unstained by blood could be enshrined as a relic.
To say nothing of this thing, which was obviously something Sanguinius had crafted with great care.
Its magnificence was beyond mortal imagination.
What Lancelot had not expected was that something like this had actually been left in a corner.
Oh, right.
In this inverted world, the loyalists had become traitors.
In other words, the loyal Great Angel of the main world was actually a member of the traitor faction in this world?
But this laurel crown still remained here…
Thinking this, Lancelot ultimately could not resist reaching out and picking the thing up.
By my logic, if this thing’s been tossed in a corner to gather dust, I might as well take it and hand it to someone who’ll actually cherish and maintain it later.
Unfortunately, although his Secret-Keeper System had an infinitely spacious Secret-Keeper Space, he currently did not have permission to store personal belongings inside it.
Aside from things bestowed by the system itself, if he wanted to put other objects into that space, he could only treat them as consumable materials for producing basic equipment.
And this laurel crown was countless times more precious than ordinary Space Marine equipment.
Lancelot tucked it close to his body, and his mood completely relaxed.
It looked like there really were no traps here.
He had already stolen something with his less-than-clean little hands, and nothing had happened.
If he only took a look at some Imperial classified intelligence, surely that would be even safer, right?
Thinking this, Lancelot came near the desk.
The things on it were a mess: all sorts of small objects, paintings, and other odds and ends.
But none of those mattered.
Lancelot ignored them and quickly pulled out the document with “Lion” visible on one corner.
But as the document was pulled free…
there was only one simple sentence written on the paper.
“Lion, today is the day you die.”
“?!”
What the hell?!
Lancelot could not help taking a step back.
In the next instant, an intense white light erupted from the desk before his eyes.
It was not the power of the Warp.
It was the most fundamental fluctuation of space itself.
When Lancelot opened his eyes again, he found that he had appeared at the center of the colosseum.
And at that very moment, a massive blue curtain of light had already completely surrounded the arena.
This power did not belong to the Warp.
It was pure technology from the material universe, a spatial-folding technique from the Dark Age of Technology.
It had been hidden inside the desk and operated entirely through the laws of the physical world, so Lancelot’s Untouchable Domain was useless against it.
An indescribable surge of energy flowed through the air.
Before Lancelot, a teleport homer roared to life.
It was likewise a transition without the slightest psychic signal, only the distortion of space.
Their pauldrons bore the mark of a red cross.
Each of them was like a walking altar, their bodies covered in badges of honor and marks of loyalty.
Lancelot could feel every gaze focus on him at that instant.
And that was not the end of it.
Lancelot saw that all of them were carrying melee weapons mounted with holy relics.
As thirteen golden beams rose from around the colosseum, an incomparably powerful force crashed down.
In an instant, a bolt of lightning struck the boltgun in Lancelot’s hand.
Ranged attacks were forbidden here.
Strength here would be made equal.
This place was for one-on-one duels.
Several rules that had appeared out of nowhere poured into Lancelot’s mind, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Although the effect of this place seemed, at this moment, to merely establish an arena for a dark duel, its essence was a reality-warping machine.
Even in humanity’s Dark Age of Technology, this would have counted as a taboo among taboos, because the authority to distort reality itself was no different from the power of a god.
And now, this thing had been installed beneath this place.
Naturally, its intended target had not been Lancelot, who had arrived here by accident.
Looking at the Terminators standing ready before him, and combining that with the note he had seen earlier, Lancelot fully understood his situation.
“Fuck…”
Lancelot could not help cursing in ancient Terran.
There was no doubt about it.
This thing was a trap set by the loyal Mistress of the XII Legion in this mirror world for the Daemon Primarch Lion.
The entire trap perfectly exploited the Dark Angels’ suspicious nature, as well as their small obsession with secrets.
It looked crude to the extreme, but the Dark Angels just so happened to fall for exactly this sort of thing.
The only unfortunate part was that he had stepped into this trap in place of this world’s traitor Lion.
And what made it even worse was that he really was a Dark Angel.
“Heh…
any chance we can settle this peacefully?”
Lancelot looked at the Crimson Angels before him and tried asking the question.
The only answer he received was the collective silence of the Crimson Angels.
Their suddenly charging blades had already answered for them.