Khorne, the Blood God, towered over the defeated form of Khaine, the God of Murder, his red-hot gaze piercing through the smoke and flames that enveloped the battlefield. The air crackled with the remnants of chaos, the ground scarred by the aftermath of their colossal clash. Khorne's armor, drenched in the blood of countless foes, seemed to pulse with a ferocious energy, but even his insatiable wrath was momentarily overshadowed by confusion.

Khaine lay sprawled across the shattered earth, his once-mighty form now reduced to a pitiful state. The dark deity’s crimson blade, Khaine's own symbol of power, lay twisted and broken beside him. It was a sight that should have filled Khorne with triumph, and it did but, a storm of rage and bewilderment still churned within him. ‘How did the god of murder had been granted such a boon? Khorne's blood-red eyes narrowed as he contemplated the source of this newfound power. A smile like that of lightning flickered quickly, he shall grant this warrior respect to be offered a chance of glory.

He stepped closer, each footfall reverberating with the weight of his wrath, and as he loomed over Khaine. Khorne’s voice, a thunderous roar of primal fury, broke the silence. “You have tasted the blood of battle. You have felt the fury of I, Khorne the Chaos God of Blood and Skulls. For a moment, you stood against the tide. So I ask you Khaine, no mere worm, if you tell me the truth you shall be graced with the honor of a Daemon King.”