There is no whisper.
There is no promise.
There is only the sound—
of impact.
Steel on bone.
Chainaxe in ribcage.
Heartbeat syncing with slaughter.
Blood is truth.
Pain is proof.
Violence is purity.
Khorne does not care why you fight.
Only that you do.
No spells.
No schemes.
No lies.
Just forward.
Boots crushing skull fragments.
Armor drenched in arterial rain.
Every breath tastes like iron.
Every scream fuels the flame.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD.
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE.
Say it through broken teeth.
Say it with your last exhale.
Say it while tearing open the next throat.
Khorne watches.
And he approves.
There is no mercy in his gaze.
No forgiveness.
No salvation.
Only challenge.
Are you strong enough?
Are you savage enough?
Are you willing to drown the galaxy in red?
Chainswords roar like war engines.
Axes split ceramite like fruit.
Spines snap.
Organs spill.
Good.
The throne rises higher.
You think this is madness?
No.
This is clarity.
No politics.
No deception.
No decay.
Just strength tested in the only court that matters.
Combat.
Khorne does not whisper in your ear.
He pounds in your chest.
Every heartbeat a war drum.
Every pulse a command.
KILL.
MOVE.
KILL AGAIN.
The battlefield is sacred ground.
The dead are currency.
Every skull a stepping stone
to something greater.
Not peace.
Never peace.
Only escalation.
Blood sprays like banners.
Helmets crack.
Limbs fly.
The air thick with copper and glory.
You feel it now.
The fury without hesitation.
The strike without doubt.
The moment where thought disappears
and only instinct remains.
That is worship.
Not kneeling.
Charging.
Khorne does not need your faith.
He needs your violence.
He does not promise eternity.
He promises battle without end.
And you accept.
Because weakness disgusts you.
Because hesitation sickens you.
Because somewhere deep in your core—
you crave the test.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD.
SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE.
Let the galaxy burn.
Let the weak scatter.
Let the strong rise through carnage.
Khorne sits upon mountains of bone.
And every drop spilled—
builds the throne higher.
Now pick up the axe.
Stop thinking.
Start proving
DeltasCommander
