《Archdjinni of the Rings: Hoopa (Warhammer 40k/Pokemon)》


 1. Interdimensional Kidnapping

    In the deepest confines of the Labyrinth Dimension, otherwise known as the Webway, laid a structure in size equal to moons, it was a fortress composed of sleek black material of esoteric origin trimming with the most potent and purest of psychic energy.


    A Blackstone Fortress at least would be what the far less advanced and psychically gifted species of the far future would call the bastardized version of peerless creation of warp craft and science beyond mortal comprehension. It was a weapon, a shield, a home and so much more. It was no mere ramming tool.


    Within the most secured chamber of this mysterious edifice were hundreds of individuals whose appearance was that of the cross between amphibians, early theropods, and reptiles.


    Those cold-blooded beings were known by many names, the Old Ones standing out, they were bearers of biological immortality, psychic talent, and knowledge even the Changer of Ways now but a gestating ocean of tumultuous and ever-changing gestalt of emotions in the Sea of Souls would envy for all of eternity.


    In the centermost part of the chamber bathed in soft green light was a massive hunched-over figure garbed in complex robes and jewelry of impossible color and shape of mysterious purpose.


    In one of its verdant scaly, and clawed left hands composed of two thumbs and three digits was a pure white staff of ever-shifting light, the dodecahedron-shaped crystal lit a bright purple as the reptilian figure slammed the but of its staff on the ground, reality trembling at the impact.


    -Phase two of the Ritual of Taking may begin, let''s part the Veil of the Labyrinth Dimension and let the Cradle of Soul of my Sanctuary Fortress blossom.-, an ancient voice of incomprehensible power with a feminine quality echoed from this very same figure and reached every mind present through one of the most fundamental and simple arts of the Sea of Souls, telepathy.


    The answer was immediate and of one-minded agreement from the hundreds of Old Ones below her, her loyal subjects, and friends, -As Ancestor Cthylla wishes, we shall bring it forth, our bodies, minds, and souls are yours!-


    And so a melodious humm composed of harmonious whistles and clicks began to resonate, their choral affecting the very world around them, psychic energy trickled down and time acted with no strict rules.


    Cthylla closed her eyes, her slitted pupil glowing a pure white still viable through her three eyelids then her body moved, meticulous and entrancing were her movements as she rhythmically tapped the butt of her staff on the grass at her feet. Each hit of her staff created the sound of distant bells.


    Controlling the Veil of the Labyrinth Dimension that separated it from the Sea of Souls, a separated dimension from the material realm of pure emotions would in a normal setting require for her no more than the flick of a clawed finger.


    But this was no normal setting, her vision not limited to mere biology gave her a sight that would drive many to insanity as the crystalline yet liquid walls of the Labyrinth were shifted away by using a process similar to how the membrane of cells would work.


    The Veil had molded itself into that of a tunnel that connected to the epicenter of the largest spire of her Fortress, then a tunnel was made and the end opened. The sight was impossible to describe as no words would prove enough to its majesty but the image of a gravitational singularity would be close.


    ''The Well of Eternity¡­'', her breath hitched but calmness remained in her being, it was not the first she could gaze on such a mystical natural phenomenon, one proof of how little the Old Ones still were faced with that grander of the universe, of both material and immaterial.


    And this place¡­ This was the origin point of all, where it all began and where it all will end, the point where space and time were and the center of the universe, and more, so much more.


    It was the point of connection to other universes, a word representing a divine plant invented by the most successful species of Great Ape would be the perfect description, Yggdrasil and the Well of Eternity was but one of the end of its many, many branches.


    The Well of Eternity as such the most direct method to interact with other universes and the exact reason for the ongoing ritual.


    -Phase three of the Ritual of Taking may begin, let''s intonate our will into reality for it to obey upon our words, let''s our transcendent presence reign supremes my loyal progeny.-, she intoned with fervor, psychic energy exploding out, at the same time the spire at the epicenter of the Blackstone Fortress slowly opened, the sleek black metalloid material letting place to thirty-six petals opened like a blooming flower.


    Cthylla''s scaled lips moved a sound of silent power was emitted by her throat as she spoke in the language that reshaped reality, and with her, the others present chanted in chorus this same language, "S????HAT????E????R????!???? ????B????R?????E????A?????K???!???? ????R????IP ?????A???S????U????NDER! ????P???A?????R????T???? ????B????A?????R?????R?????I?????E?????R???? ????O????F????? ???R????E????A????L????I????T?????Y?????,????? ????B???E???G???O????N????E????? ?????T???H?????Y????S????E???L?????F??? ?????A????ND????? ????O????P????P????EN???? ????T????H???E???? ????P???A????T???H????? ?????O?????F??? ???D????E????S????T????I???N????Y???? ???F?????O?????R???? ???U???S????? ?????T???O???? ?????R???E?????A????P????? ?????OUR ???D???U????E????? ????P???R????IZE????!"


    In another universe within a park, children could be seen running and playing about as their parents observed them, an old couple was walking their dogs and the sun was shining.


    It was a pleasant day for a young man in his early twenties sitting on one of the many benches, his smartphone where he was waiting for his opponent on Pok¨¦mon Showdown to choose their move, and he was also playing to wait for the dozen Pokestops to reset and the Elite Raid a hundred or so meter away to start. One he had missed last week.


    His attention was suddenly snapped away from his screen to the squeaking purple ball adorned with pictures of kitten cats that just bounced at his mostly ripped sneaker, and now rested at his feet.


    Seeing where it came from he smiled amusedly at the small group of children, two boys and one girl of around six height looking at the ball and then at him with apprehension, clearly hesitating to ask and too nervous to approach.


    "Here grab, you can ask, you know little lady. I don''t bite, well not when unprovoked or when I''m not hungry.", he said with a playful tone as he grabbed and gently threw the ball back at them, their eyes widened as one of them scrambled to catch the red bouncy toy.


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    "Thank you Mist-", the little girl having caught the ball spoke, her mouth not in synch with her words as she stopped mid-sentence, one of her eyes shifting far too much to the right while the other dilated then fine crack appeared all over her body, from this crack blood leaked out and she exploded before everyone in the park.


    The world seemed to stop, the phone in the young man fell to the ground as he stayed frozen in shock, he couldn''t move, he couldn''t think, his eyes locked onto the piles of blood and entail that once was a seven-year-old child dressed in a pink skirt.


    Then one of the boys that were behind the once-alive girl screamed, it was one of visceral horror and uncomprehension as the liquified piece of her body covered half of his.


    His body trembled as his cry reached a new height, this shattered the silence as more and more followed suit but this very same boy suddenly stopped screaming, five thin red lines appeared on his body, and like glass, he shattered, the impossibility unfolding was but the first step to a spiraling descent downard of pandemonium.


    "This is a nightmare¡­", he ushered in a trembling voice as before his terrified and confused eyes the world was breaking apart, the ground shaking, people screaming and running around in terror like headless chickens, as the world broke apart, the elderly couple fell into a crevice that materialized out of thin air to never be seen again while death randomly happened most horrifyingly, some became cubes of flesh or others were ripped in half from neck to crotch like a vulgar piece of papers.


    Then a rippling sound echoed, it was impossible to describe, sickeningly wrong and unnatural would have been the correct terms to describe it. So loud was it that it drowned all and any others as the air five meters above him fissured, cracked, and ultimately was ripped apart by a force of eldritch origin, and what was behind was utter nothingness.


    ''What the fuck. What the fuck What the fuck. This is a nightmare. What the fuck.'', the young man''s mind repeated like a broken record, unable to formulate higher and more complicated thoughts.


    He tried to run, to flee, but he couldn''t, his legs betraying as they refused to budge, his body trembled, existential and primal dread engulfed his mind, and all of his senses went into overdrive. He felt the wrongness, this shouldn''t be here, this shouldn''t be happening but it was and to his horror, he seemed to be the target.


    After an enormous amount of trying he finally began to feel his legs but in the heartbeat that followed gravity acted as it shouldn''t. His body defied that fundamental force, only adding to his shock but he reacted this time and managed to grab the bench with both hands.


    "NO! NO THIS CAN''T BE! PLEASE NO!", he screamed out at the sight of red lines forming all around his forearms, hands, and fingers.


    Then to his ever-growing horror and now burning hot agony half of his arms turned into fine red mist and he was flung backward right in the crack in reality. The world turned black, and all of his senses filled with nothingness, an instant that might have been centuries for all he could tell, In the end, it didn''t matter as all was back in a violent blast of white.


    "AAAHH!", was the first thing his lungs led him to do once his first breath took in as the pain was back, blood spurting from the two wounds like two small macabre fountains. If his clothes were still present they would have soaked that dark red liquid.


    His cry of pain when a pure white cocoon engulfed his body, the blood suddenly stopped flowing while most of the burning hot pain was suppressed, giving him the chance to look to where said light was from.


    He screamed as he realized he was in a dimly lit room of size his hazy and barely cognizant mind could not comprehend, the air was foggy, hot, and humid. But those details of his new alien environment were of little importance compared to the thing the size of an African bull elephant standing in front of him.


    It was a salamander frog crocodile bird lizard hybrid abomination with a crystalline staff in one of its clawed hands, its slitted reptilian eyes glowing with mysterious energy looking down at him with mild interest and emotion he could not describe let to a feeling of existential dread to burgeon in his very being.


    Never had he felt such emotions and never would he wish to experience them again, but his wishes were of no importance.


    Cthylla observed with fascination the foreign animal that they had brought from another universe, its eyes were wide open in the most primal form of terror as it tried in vain to crawl away whimpering incomprehensibly, its half-intact front limbs moving around randomly.


    It was a pathetic sight in its own way, if pity was something her species could feel or even less comprehend she would have felt it but for her, it was almost a show. A sad show of a terrified and cornered animal who was barely intelligent enough to understand the situation it was in.


    A subject to be dissected and studied alas it wasn''t why this animal had the honor to gaze on her magnificent form, even less so be in such a close presence to her.


    ''Hmm¡­ Fascinating. It''s an adult male and a member of the great ape as far as anatomy and physiology go. The Multiverse is a truly puzzling facet of reality, with infinite possibility come infinite redundancy.'', she thought pointing her staff at the mostly hairless ape, the white light enveloping its body switched to a milky grey light as its movement stopped, only its eyes kept on moving, their primitive unrestrained emotion for her and her faithful descendants to gaze upon.


    It shocked all but her as it showed that her magnificently crafted steel didn''t work to its full potential, as it should have, at least without her putting more power and risking irreversibly damaging this invaluable ingredient of another universe.


    The light of her psychic might was seemingly getting eroded by the infinitely weaker and inferior mortal creature, stopping her from putting it into a deep slumber. But this point didn''t surprise her, it was the reason why it was brought here from its home reality, at a cost she would prefer not to pay again.


    A third of her descendants within the chamber had turned to dust, their essence turned to primal energy while nearly all of the two-thirds remaining held various degrees of injury. They took the brunt of the backlash for the afront she had done on the universe, as they should, their very existence is only thanks to her magnanimity and it was their duty for their species. Things at times are not to be but who was to say to her and the Old Ones what should and what shouldn''t be?


    She didn''t personally choose it for some personal characteristic due to its knowledge or personality, not that she could have to begin with. She took this creature for its very nature, it repulsed both Reality and Unreality equally, eroding them just as the hairless ape was equally getting the same treatment. If not for her intervention his very essence would have vanished in the great cosmos the moment it was brought to this universe.


    A phenomenon quite similar to the Pariah Mutation but aside from their unique interaction with the Sea of Souls the similarities stopped, if a Pariah was needed growing one would have been done in a heartbeat and not needed such a dangerous ritual.


    What was needed was the native of another universe, but not one with analogous rules, one with inner working almost completely antithetical to hers.


    It wasn''t its body she was truly interested in thought, it was a temporary if very flawed vessel to be turned into a nutrient, it''s Soul however, it was to be the principal ingredient for her Magnum Opus. A living tool of immense power and versatility requested to be created by the Great Council of which she was a permanent member, it was to be made due to their species'' current less-than-desirable state.


    -My devout progeny, I''m grateful for your sacrifice and will reward you once the time is due. But now is not such time, for the ones in the state of adequate health, I request you to advance my Fortress to our point of rendezvous. Our enemies are vicious and well informed, what was done today had not gone without notice.-, she sent telepathically, a pulse of her psychic energy washing over them simultaneously, their wounds healing at unfathomable speed, but it was on a surface level yet it alleviated their pain. Even the mental ones.


    These wounds were far more than physical and more thorough warpcraft would be required to abate the damage done. Or at the very least to reduce the scars that would be left and avoid crippling consequences.


    Then she lifted the ape in her psychic grasp and teleported to her chamber where her workshop lay.

 2. Dehumanizing Process

    Terror, unfiltered and pure terror. Dread and confusion, agony, and realization with emotions impossible to describe.


    And regret, if only I stayed home or went anywhere else, anywhere but here¡­ Maybe none of this madness would have happened.


    Nothing could put into coherent speech what I was feeling but this. I didn''t want to be here, I was only playing on my phone, I wanted to run, to hide, to flee but I couldn''t. I couldn''t move, couldn''t breathe, couldn''t scream, I couldn''t even move my own fucking my wide open eyelids!


    I was trapped in my own body.


    Only my eyes could move as if it were some twisted joke from the universe.


    I was powerless, never had been so aware of how weak, insignificant, and fragile I was. Crying mentally was of no use but I did nonetheless, it was the only freedom I possessed. What could I do!? Nothing and I hated it with a burning passion, another emotion of comparable uselessness to my despair and regret.


    My body was out of my very own control, yet I was alive, my lung burning unable to feed my organism with oxygen, my eyes rapidly drying up as tears flowed, my shredded arms painted in my blood ringing with ever-present yet dull pain and my heart beating at such speed and power I felt it was going to explode.


    Yet I was calming down and panicking simultaneously in a never-ending cycle, my mind unable and my body unable to keep together. I wanted to faint but I couldn''t, my sanity wanted to snap but it couldn''t. I could but helplessly watch as the creature, the alien monster bitch whatever the fuck this abomination that shouldn''t exist responsible for it all moved me via means that in any other circumstance, I would have marveled at.


    Telekinesis, but again, it was the least of things to focus on. I think there was teleportation too. A far cry from the hole in reality that sucked me in.


    My vision was getting hazier as the second flew by but what I saw was alien and incomprehensible, it was a room akin to a laboratory or an operation room if vaguely, runes floated in the air with holograms as tools, tubes, and unknown containers were organs and tissues of a creature unknown pulsed.


    ''No¡­ Oh by all¡­ Please no.'', I thought with growing horror as my heart sank. I was shifted horizontally, and my limbs spread to better fit the structure below me, one that felt like jelly and coarse beard hair.


    My eyes darted everywhere then the sensation of digging, no, crawling under my skin was felt and my gaze froze, my skin and muscles were getting cut open and put into a large floating box of glass.


    I didn''t feel the true agony that such an act should grant but I didn''t care as to why or how. It was my only saving grace as the sensation of something being inside my body never stopped, it was a feeling of utter wrongness, one of being violated on the deepest level.


    I felt sick to my core.


    Every hour, every minute, every second of this time, for my skewered sense of time. I feel it all, and my terror and dread progressively turn to cold fury for the one responsible of all.


    I wasn''t dying no matter what was shifted and played inside of my head, abdomen, and chest. With each passing moment I waited for this sweet release but it didn''t come. It never did even if it should, a fact I didn''t know if I should feel relief or betrayal for.


    And I had seen it all until my eyes completely ceased to function and were taken out, the muscles cut with the nerves, leaving empty sockets that themselves did not stay as my bones were not spared¡­. Blurry images being disassembled piece by piece, organs by organs forever engraved in my mind.


    I didn''t know what remained of me and what didn''t, my senses of hearing, touch, taste, and smell were all but gone in an equal manner to my sight, robbed from me by this bitch. Bitch the correct as I suppose she was female from her voice, her humming of joy as she fucking cut me apart not that I care for what this monster''s gender was.


    -Protocol five shall begin my future Child, your soul has been purified from your mortal shell and is ready to be processed further. Fear not, submit to your destiny, be honored, and accept your incoming rebirth into an elevated existence. Your soul shall be remodeled to my vision and for your true physical vessel.-, a voice reached my mind, halting all of my thoughts, the words and their meaning flying over me.


    It was a voice I instantaneously hated and attached to the lizard bitch, it was alien, with clicks and hiss within yet I understand it all. It blared into my mind, I didn''t cower and lashed out, insults rearing out with complexity and originality I didn''t know I was capable of but it was too late. Far too late.


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    My words did not reach her before the agony, one that made everything that I saw and endured until now seem pitifully small. True agony flared in my existence, it was beyond physicality and my world blacked out.


    Then I awakened and fainted in an ever-changing pattern for who knows how long as I was twisted, cut, broken, sharpened, ground, shattered, melted, molded, destroyed, reconstructed, frozen for this endless process to repeat, again, and again, and again and again and again and AGAIN and AGAIN, each time done minutely differently. I tried to fight back against the entity violating the deepest and truest part of me, but I couldn''t.


    Yet not all my efforts were in vain as my essence was contorted into something that it hasn''t evolved to be. My name and that of all I knew and held dear were all but forgotten, robbed from me, but my memories if in part tattered and the vibrant feeling attached to them remained.


    Maybe the name and face of my family was now and so much more but blank yet their voices, general personalities, and the feelings associated with them stayed. But also the realization that I would never see them again.


    Yet I couldn''t truly process it at the moment.


    The bitch couldn''t go deeper if it was for fear of damaging her toy or for some sense of sadistic pleasure I couldn''t tell and never will but I held on regardless if for the smallest of chance that it may annoy her.


    My sense of self remained, I was me, no matter what this abomination may add or change to my being.


    Then all of a sudden the cycle that I became acclimated to ended my mind slowing to a halt in shock, the aching agony beyond words remaining ringing in my nonexistent ears as all went progressively dark, my fighting getting weaker and weaker, though slowing down to nothingness and emotions shutting down one by one.


    Then finally relief as sweet nothingness came to engulf me.


    ?????


    ''Fascinating. I feel almost tired¡­ How long has it been since I have felt this sensation¡­ Of weakness. Ah, how time has passed since my hatching.'', Cthylla remarked as she breathed out deeply, psychic energy exiting her every pore as she stilled her rapid body. In a dozen seconds, all exhaustion had vanished.


    She lifted the soul with a delicateness she rarely ever did, its shape was entirely different from what it once was. Once it was in the shape of its own body, one of a human, a humanoid figure of a dim grey light¡­ Now only remnants in its essence held still, the color a deep dark, and human nature purified away in its night entirety for something she deemed a far more adequate fit.


    And the soul was to be refined further into something far more than what it was, only a third of the process was done. Simply changing the form and giving new possibilities was not nearly enough for such a project, she had done the sculpting phase.


    Soulshaping was a path she was the greatest master in yet what she had done on the mortal had been¡­ Harder, far harder than she had calculated and imagined to both her great joy and frustration for it proved she could learn and that as such she was not as close to perfection as she had envisioned.


    The ape was feisty and hardy to a fault and in more than one way those qualities were both positive and negative, yet it wasn''t why she considered the task far from simple. It was inconsequential what it tried to do, it was beyond powerless.


    The will of a nonpsychic barely two-decades-old creature could not hope to ever fight against hers. The mere thought was both insulting and amusing, to think the once hairless ape did try and kept on irrationally doing so was laughable and pointless if rather commendable for it to do so in such a state after what it had experienced.


    If nothing else could be said it was far more resilient and determined than many for it wasn''t trained or gifted. Two points of its personality that would need to be focused in the right direction, like many of its other emotions, not that all were to remain as is.


    The difficulty was the very nature of the soul, it was foreign beyond what she had initially hypothesized, and this made the steps that much more complicated if she didn''t want to corrupt the pureness and quality of its alien properties. Its origin from beyond the Well of Eternity and its passage in it was equally important.


    She was as such limited in her actions, not able to go deeper into its psyche and mold them to her wishes but that wasn''t the only reason. The time available, time manipulation was not an option to be used for something in complete dyssynchrony with its eternal flow.


    But it was a task only she could do and failing to do so was not an option, she never did and never will.


    She was one of the Creator and True Primogenitor of the Aeldari after all, a species and their divine psychic constructs representing perfection incarnate, only below the Old Ones of course as none were a match for her people. Nothing but this level was acceptable to a being of her liking and that is why she worked at the correct speed with method and knowledge none would ever match.


    Making the impossible possible and taboo acceptable were stepping stones for her to advance and grow. A challenge in accordance to her grandeur and talent.


    Creating a creature antithesis to Realspace and the Sea of Souls yet at the same time this creature would be so intricately connected to both that it would channel and manipulate both, an alien living paradox that should not be yet will.


    Space and time tore apart with an almost lazy hand flick from this tear in existence came a strange bottle which she delicately grasped between her two thumbs.


    Not that she could damage it in any way shape or form if she wished without truly putting tremendous effort and then it would repair and adapt, it was an artifact built for the present time by her elder brother, and it was his very last craft.


    Ythogtha had tragically been killed by one of the Stars Gods, and the help of its soulless automaton slaves in a cowardly ambush. A devastating loss for their already tattered species and herself that was far overdue for righteous retribution, but there was no need for haste.


    The bottle was diminutive compared to her, barely longer than one of her clawed fingers. It was more of a small flask. But it compensated for what it lacked in size for its multifaceted powers and intricate body of masterful craftsmanship beyond mortal understanding.


    It was a delicate ring-shaped pottery, a large hole in its center where six rings of the purest of gold adorned with blue gemstones were locked in around, its color was of an ivory white that shifted to a purple at the thin and long neck, then came the smooth oval cork of a similar color.


    Uncorking this artifact the world seemed to both burn and freeze, slow down and accelerate but it was of no effect to her as she guided the soul within the bottle.


    Clouds of ethereal fumes that were stored within emanated from the opening, their light purple and dark purple light softly interlaced with the approaching dark soul of the once human.


    Like the roots of a tree growing tendrils, developing deep connections vital for both continual existence, but it was no mere symbiosis, it was more. Oh, so much more.


    Once the soul and clouds were sucked back into the flask she levitated off the ground and moved deeper into her chamber where her throne rested. It was composed of kaleidoscopic organic crystal, metals, and plasma; it was one of her most prized possessions for it was proof of her place in the Great Council.


    Sitting cross-legged on it she let go of her staff which floated to the side, hovering peacefully in the ambient psychic energy so strong lesser beings would melt.


    Then she closed her eyes and slowly clasped her hands together, the bottle held in between as she stayed alert and ready to intervene in any problems that may occur in the following steps.


    Failing right now would mean dooming herself, her entire species, and by extension but of less importance to her, life itself. Losing would mean with certainty a fate where the body, mind, and soul of all would be devoured. It was a future she by all accounts did not want and if sacrificing the life of a few then so be it.

 3. New Body

    ''My head hurts and my body feels weird too¡­ Did I drink too much? Did I even drink.'', I thought in confusion, a powerful headache rapidly receding as I tried and failed to open my eyes. My eyelids felt very weak and heavy and somewhat glued¡­ Wait, they were taken. Then that means.


    A realization hit and with immense relief flooded my being.


    ''So it was all a nightmare. Huh good but I still need to go to Grandma to see if she has taken her meds and cleaned herself then go to the park¡­ But I swear I already did that and I didn''t go to any party either.'', I tried to explain my thoughts and what made my joy very short-lived, and unfortunately it wasn''t tricks that were played on me by a twisted part of my mind.


    I found faults everywhere when trying to prove it was all a nightmare and so I reached a conclusion, the one with fewer faults won and reality came crashing back on me with force, there was no rationalizing, it didn''t make sense, and memories, chaotic and disordered, slammed at the forefront. They all poured down in my mind all at once.


    Yet I didn''t blank out, or feel overwhelmed, I remembered it all at the same time with a clarity I never had before. Every second of it, imprinted in my mind but¡­ I still couldn''t remember my name, it was lost for good, not that my identity was built on it but it was part of it and it hurt in a way hard to describe losing it forever.


    ''No¡­ This can''t be all real, this doesn''t make sense but my memories¡­ I-I why¡­ And why am I so fucking calm?'', I thought in confusion as I analyzed from the moment the innocent girl exploded to the moment my body was getting¡­ Taken away and after what could but my soul be reconstructed from the ground up.


    Multiple fully cognizant lines of thought were working simultaneously in my brain at speed and efficiency that I never knew I was capable of, because I couldn''t before, I shouldn''t. The human brain is an incredible organ but it has limits, limits that I have severely crossed that line. Seconds felt the equivalent of long minutes if not hours or more, no matter how little sense it made.


    This snapped me to my evident changes both physical and metaphysical, I shouldn''t be this coherent, I wasn''t calm, I was the exact opposite of it in fact but I could think extremely clearly.


    It wasn''t that I wasn''t feeling my emotions, no they were different, many alien to the highest degree and far more diverse and complex in their nuance and¡­ Very intense for lack of better terms, far, far too much even yet I wasn''t having a mental breakdown.


    It was as if I biologically couldn''t go into such a potent state of weakness, I was above¡­ Yes. It was what I was feeling for as strange and presumptuous as it sounded, I simply knew, and for some reason, it felt right. I didn''t know how to feel about the last part.


    I didn''t know how I knew but I knew. I was feeling curiosity and wrath at my condition, sadness at what I lost, despair at my unknown future hate for the ones responsible for it all, and many more varying in color and hue.


    This wasn''t the kind of response I should have, it was by all accounts an abnormal one, but it was the one I was having and one thing I can be thankful for is that I could think coherently with a minimum of sanity for the little positive it gave me about my present.


    It was strange to feel all of these tempestuous emotions that should have stopped me from functioning as a rational being and made me insane yet they weren''t. Or maybe I was already, I didn''t know and truthfully cared little if it was the case. By all metrics after what I endured I was different.


    ''I''m floating in something of warm viscous liquid¡­ Am I in some kind of incubator pod?'', I thought while the liquid shifting around likely giving me the necessaries to not die also made me even more hyper-aware of my body than I already was.


    I wasn''t human anymore¡­ It was evident, there was no need to go see my new mug in a mirror to realize, my senses weren''t lying. That instinct was making it known it was.


    I wasn''t human and never will be¡­ I couldn''t deny it and if it wasn''t the case then I was a horrifyingly malformed abomination to the point it became the same. Both cases were that I¡­ I was a different creature.


    The frog bitch had done this and I was deeply aware of the potential implication as cliche as they might be. Novels, manga, and fiction, in general, were a very good fuel to explore imagination, overall a skill of little importance but when what should be fictional became reality¡­ Then it was not the same, it let me fathom what could happen and helped me react as foolish as it sounds.


    It''s not like I had anything else to go by.


    You don''t get kidnapped and have all that I was forced to go through with the current present for no reason. There was a purpose; a goal behind it. I wasn''t daft and didn''t believe I was going to be some happy-go-lucky hero in a fantasy world.


    My very being knew it as well, it was in my genes, blood, and flesh, I was artificial beyond doubt and my purposes weren''t going to be centered around my well-being. Not that I accepted any of it but my emotions and opinions on the subject didn''t change the reality of my situation.


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    I needed to act but that was easier said than done, at worst I don''t have anything to lose but my life not that I will throw it away. If the saying that you only live once is correct I didn''t know but I wasn''t particularly anticed to test its veracity.


    I didn''t want to die but I refused to be a slave.


    In any case, my humanity was gone... My body, while vaguely humanoid and currently in a fetal position held most of its similarity to a human here, half of my form was covered in fur, my face was of a different shape, or more precisely my jaws were far more pronounced forward, the lower one more than my upper one.


    I could feel the general shape inside of my mouth by moving my tongue, an organ also of a totally different shape, it was elongated and tapered at the end with thousands of near-microscopic hard barb-like structures at the top for some reason.


    With it, I knew that all of my teeth were now multiplied to be seventy-two in number and were almost exclusively fangs barring a few ones at the backs and two bigger ones on each side of my lower jaws that were jutting outward like tusks.


    I had six hands or talons as their anatomy was vaguely bird-like, each with one thumb and two digits of equal size ending in sharp slightly curved inward claws.


    Yet this addition of these many limbs wasn''t the strangest aspect about them. Per my six hands, I had six forearms but it stopped here, I didn''t have elbows, upper arms, or even shoulders for that matter.


    I didn''t have arms, my forearms and talons were not accessory additions to the side of my chest however, they simply were not physically attached to my body, yet I could feel them with just as much clarity as any other body parts. They clearly weren''t working on any kind of biology I was aware of, if biology at all as I wasn''t sure I even fully was this anymore.


    ''I have wireless body parts¡­'', I thought and it was an odd thing to put into perspective but it was quite on the lower end of my personal list of shocking things.


    And that felt very, very weird, the addition of new body parts in vastly different shapes only coming third for the first was the fact they were but the second was where the disembodied half limbs were located.


    They were like the blades of swords when sheathed¡­ The sheaths for my three pairs of arms in the equation here were three circular sockets on each side of my body, from the start of my neck to the beginning of my waist. As bizarre as it was, it didn''t feel wrong, it was natural, it was their resting place.


    I instinctively knew how they could move, or more accurately levitate but I couldn''t do so now, it wasn''t the time something my body also knew. It was too early in my development.


    Then there was a tail, I had a prehensile tail growing from my rump and it was currently passing in the middle of my two comparatively short but muscular legs which ended into toeless feet that curled upward like some eccentric pair of shoes.


    As I was in a fetal position the last portions of my tail and its arrow-shaped tip were close to my face. With difficulty, I moved these alien muscles for the first time.


    Those little twitches I managed to do were enough for me to feel that where a nose should be there was a beak-like structure that fused with my upper jaws and that a pair of horns was growing in my skull, if the two nubs were the outside parts of ears should be were any indication.


    This body¡­ all of those details combined pointed to one thing. I was¡­ I couldn''t remember the name of the character, my memories on the subject filled with holes like many more but it was that of a Pok¨¦mon, one I reckon was one of if not my favorite and in its alternate form.


    ''Absurd¡­ But I''m past that point and it''s only the beginning.'', I thought, I wasn''t exactly sure how to feel as it could all be just physical similarity and my imagination running wild. I simply didn''t know so there was no need to overthink.


    Then like a clap of thunder all of my lines of thought and emotions ground down to a halt as I felt a presence through an entirely new l sense I didn''t realize I had until now, if one thing could describe it then it would be this metaphorical third eye is much spoken about by less than trustable source. And this had been blown open multiplying my ''vision'' to a point it was hard to grasp.


    I could see and feel everything composed of esoteric energy my body understood the nature of as it was reading from my DNA, it was psychic energy the product of emotions generated by minds and souls that could when channeled, affect reality in certain ways, it could be summed up to magic but it was so much more.


    And I was now aware of everything in the room before it was suddenly cut off from my senses, from my body to the ''pod'', to the dark room connected to me my ''pod''.


    The dark room was some kind of ring-shaped bottle that felt like an integral part of me, it was placed and connected to a massive chamber adorned with complex tapestry written in uncountable and everchanging runes full of deep and intricate meanings I could not comprehend. All of these from what I could understand channel a great amount of this esoteric energy directly to my soul and body like a blood transfusion.


    But those pieces of information from this newly awakened sense and the innate memories imprinted in my body were shoved to the back of my mind by¡­ Her. This very same presence that opened this sight to another facet of reality, or irreality as things stand¡­


    There was no mistaking, not only would I never forget her mind but these new and confusing instincts of my body screamed at me that she was my Creator and more...


    It was her, the scum responsible for all that has happened, her disgusting presence through my third eye was like facing the purest of white made into a star of unfathomable light, heat, and mass yet I wasn''t being burnt in her corona or crushed, my far weaker but just as intense presence of a miniature swirling nebula composed of obsidian black, lavender, and dark purple clouds congregating together was not affected in any way by her.


    And that was because she willed it so, I was certain, she could snuff me out of existence right here and there and I would be none of the wiser. I was terrified and out of my depth even though I was certain she wasn''t going to kill me or permanently damage me, I was somewhat important if such a being put this much attention on me.


    Yet this didn''t change that with my fear I want to strangle every fucking last bit of life force out of her fucking saurian body, mind, and soul, to feel her blood on my hand and see her suffer for all eternity, to kill her and kill her again and again until nothing remained.


    But I didn''t act, I wasn''t suicidal, and I didn''t know how to begin, and even if the formers were not considered I simply couldn''t¡­ I simply knew I couldn''t, it was how a horse couldn''t fly no matter how it tried with its body, at least not in any conventional way and it was the same here.


    It was one of the locks to keep me under control that had been placed it seemed. A wise and logical choice for any sensible being but one I could but despise from the bottom of my heart.


    But these thoughts were still affecting my body language, I didn''t care to stop it, I didn''t want to be as childish as it was. Fitting for a chimeric fetus growing in a test tube.


    My eyes were shifting behind my closed eyelids focusing on where she was, my tail was moving erratically and I felt myself growl like an animal, my teeth baring as my jaws tightened, all coming naturally. Nothing threatening or intimidating in the slightest for our position but it was the only I could do and it was very exhausting.


    -Hoopa, my Child, I''m pleased with your rapid and successful development but it is not of your stature to act in the way of a rebellious rabid lesser life form in the presence of your Mother.-, she said telepathically to me, her words echoing to the limit of my mind, and her voice was unnerving yet beautiful to the ear soft yet strict with very little emotions aside from satisfaction and pride¡­ And a little amusement.


    I growled even harder in defiance. She had chastised me. She just fucking chastised me like a brat after having ripped me away from my universe, my family changed my body, and soul beyond recognition, destroyed and altered parts of my identity, and just forced a new name on me, then pushed her status as my Mother on me with what I felt was true in some form for reasons I hated. I had a Mom and this lizard bitch wasn''t her and never will be no matter what she did to me or will force me to do.


    But all of this rapidly disappeared as my mind began to feel foggy and my body sluggish. The cause behind it all was unimportant and obvious, it was her.


    ''Peace at last... If temporary.'', was my last thought before the world went dark and I fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

 4. Rebirth

    ''Hello again, strange world¡­ The egg feels tighter than before¡­'', was my first thought as I roused from my restful dreamless sleep, my body still inhuman. The movement of my tail around my face was enough proof, the hope it was just an acid trip long since squashed.


    This was one of the rare moments when I was awake. It was a never-ending cycle of slumber and awakeness that came where I would wake up at seemingly random intervals as my body slowly developed within the viscous confine of my egg, it wasn''t a pod of glass or anything like this I first guessed.


    I was no expert in alien hyper-advanced psychic biotechnology but I didn''t need to, if it was a pod it wouldn''t be ovoid and feel more and more cramped as I grew. It was all semantic at the end.


    How much time had exactly gone by since my ''transmigration'' I wasn''t certain but it was at the bare minimum several years if not decades, not that it was of great importance since I remained awake only for very brief periods for all those years.


    For me the one thousand two hundred and seventy-three times now plus one since I have awakened by either myself or due to the fault of the only outside psychic influence I was familiar with, the lizard bitch, my ''Creator'' and ''Mother''. Those times cumulated together would be equal to seventy-six days, seven hours, thirty-three minutes, and an ever-passing amount of seconds.


    I didn''t keep count specifically, I was simply aware of how much time passed when I was conscious. Two and half a month for me wasn''t the same as two and half a month with the perception of time for a human, it was far longer for me yet also not.


    I used this time with care even when I was awake things were¡­ Very insightful and intense to say the least. I didn''t, couldn''t shake off what was done and a portion of my mind was always in tumultuous emotions, it didn''t matter that they were far less fiery than the first awakening but they were still brazing ready to start a blazing fire anew. I will neither forgive nor forget.


    But it was only one part of my mind I used to work on my cranked-up emotions while the rest of my supercomputer-like brain held the free reign to work unimpeded and so I focused on learning and exploring what would be needed for this new life as much as I could in my little prison world.


    First and foremost was my body which I have fully acclimated to, it was mine and mine alone to the very last cells and it felt right to be in it. It fitted me beyond perfection, it was crafted to be. It felt even better than my old body in all aspects¡­ It was me and physically I felt better than I ever did.


    I couldn''t deny these points as much as they displeased me and another one in the same vein that annoyed me was acknowledging that my human from an objective point of view was factually inferior in every imaginable way to a comically high level.


    I was greater now, I was molded from all angles of my being to be. The term lesser being used by her as much as I despised it was correct for what I was before.


    But nothing was natural and born of evolution or from my effort and choices, every detail was chosen, fine-tuned, and optimized to build me against my will as such there was no pride in being the creature that I now was, only a sense of loss and acceptance¡­ And power.


    To think once upon a time I would have felt immense excitement at the prospect of being a super-powered individual¡­ Heh, how the tables have turned.


    The reality of things was often disappointing and very painful. But saying I was apathetic to my new capacities would be the greatest lie, I was euphoric even if it was drowned amidst the rest. I just wish I had a choice in the matter.


    I could barely move my body aside from some of my limbs and I was in an egg so what I could do remained very vague but I was intuitively aware of what my general physical prowess would be and had innate control of it.


    By using this instinctual understanding, and my already existing if limited knowledge of physics from high school that was brute forced through by using my powerful mind I could do advanced mental calculations to give me an estimate of what I could do in theory.


    I was beyond human and anything living I knew of. One flick of my tail with a modicum of force and intent behind would be able to send an object the weight of a tank flying kilometers in the sky if the object didn''t shatter or explode on impact. But that was at best wild if educated guess.


    Then my psychic power, or magic¡­ I studied the finite world outside of my bottle that was accessible to my third eye to the best of my abilities, the flow of energy in and out, the runes, their meaning, patterns, and the hows and whys they were used to the bottle itself.


    The successes were few and far between but they were there and tangible aside from the bottle in question and my body which still completely eluded me. I didn''t need to be told for the hundredth time by the lizard bitch to understand that everything here was the epitome of her species'' crafts and I was beyond, the bottle connected to me almost like a body part following the same rules.


    Still, for the rest the fact I wasn''t completely lost and could forge a modicum understanding of my world in so little time with essentially no knowledge was beyond madness and reasoning, but I was her ''very best'' creation. Being mediocre was something I was forbidden to be and this aspect of the arcane seemed to be one I was naturally wired to.


    As for the more practical side of things¡­ I was very limited in my freedom. It pissed me off, I felt restrained, caged like a beast but it made sense. If I fucked around with something I barely understood and controlled during the most important phases of my development I could and would cripple myself if not straight-up die.


    And so the little I could do was what I was doing right now, slowly shifting the hot and thick liquid around with my mind around my body, and it was as easy as breathing. This was a crude and pitifully weak form of telekinesis useless by itself but crucial for the understanding of this keystone aspect of my being.


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    All of the two dozen highly detailed 3D figures of fictional characters containing notably but not only a duo of cat and mouse pursuing the others dissipated back into the viscous liquid with the psychic energy that animated them flowing back to me.


    Something in the deepest most primal part of my being clicked together, the awaited day has come. I was going to be officially reborn, I¡­ There was so much emotion that had been kept at bay now raged in equal amounts be they black, white, and grey in tones.


    It was the most important part of my existence, my birth¡­ Or rebirth.


    My mind was focused on my current state to such a point I barely noted the sudden apparition of her, the pure white sun that was ''Mother'', now not scarring as my power had never stopped growing to the point we were of equal raw psychic power.


    Joy, delight, excitement, jubilation, and pride were radiating from her in potent psychic waves that rolled in the entirety of the chamber.


    -The time has finally come, Hoopa, my Child! The time has come for you to be born anew in body, mind, and soul!-, her telepathic voice full of ecstasy was crystal clear yet muffled by what was happening to me.


    The pure psychic energy of the rune matrix that had been since my first awakening lit brighter than ever, the energy that was continually transferred to me amplified by two times, then three, then four, and this seemed to never end as all of it was siphoned by me, adding little by little to my soul.


    The feeling of ever-increasing strength was one I would never forget, it was intoxicating beyond words; the rush, the sensation of growth and bliss that came with it, my mind abuzz with the sheer volume of it.


    But that was only a part of it, the ''locks'' placed on me to limit my power almost in its entirety to avoid me killing myself during the gestation period were snapping one by one, each giving a tiny bit more of the sweet taste of freedom I wanted so much. They dissipated to be absorbed into me making me realize those were made of myself.


    But that wasn''t all¡­ The rapidly increasing feeling of absolute control over my body thrumming with energy gave me a sense of freedom and elation of equal potency, strength, reflex, and speed beyond mortal that was for me to wield as I may so desire.


    The sharp spikes at the end of my forearms that replaced my nonexistent elbow poked at the egg as the six of them exited their socket for the first time, the feeling akin to not having stretched for a long time. And it felt fucking goooood¡­


    The ''shell'' all around me under this new pressure began to break, holes forming where the six spikes pushed at the same time my body unfolded from the position it had been in for years, my heart hammering in my chest as muscles I never used all brimming with power flexed and unflexed.


    Pure and potent psychic energy from the chamber continued to be siphoned by me, the nebulae of black and two shaded purple that was my soul as if a gravitational singularity was in its center began to compress.


    It continued to compress, the density and intensity increasing by the second it didn''t stop when I had siphoned all of the energy in the chamber but the one who destroyed me. Her joy only reached new heights but I cared little for her at that moment.


    The compression reached a critical, the nebulous clouds no more as the small hyper-dense sphere that had been formed exploded and a star formed, one of mass, power, and size superior to that of her, but killing her would not still be possible.


    My soul was of pure obsidian with bright flashes of dark and light purple lighting within the corona that repulsed and attracted the world around me in a never-ending cycle. It was beyond words and it was me¡­


    My mind could barely keep up, the change affecting me on a conceptual level as new instincts and knowledge poured down in my brain about my birthright, the authority to fold a part of creation, the fabrics of the space-time continuum to my will via golden rings made of my essence.


    With it came a new sense that gave me the ability to feel this very same field of reality letting me know this ''bottle'' was a separate dimension, no, miniaturized universe working with its own strict rules.


    One of such that rendered escaping with this authority an impossibility for reasons beyond my present understanding. Nothing had happened by luck, this was to contain me, this power¡­ It was to be, it was created for this purpose.


    But yet again I noted this and could but care little for the moment for the egg that encapsulated my body had broken and then burned by the dark energy snaking around my form, absorbing the viscous liquid and fragment of egg over my skin and fur.


    I had hatched and obeying a primal part of me, I couldn''t help but emit my throat and jaws a long howl encompassing all that I had kept under wrap enhanced by my psychic might. It had no meaning but to announce my rebirth.


    Once it ended I kept my eyes still closed so I appreciated the feeling of my body free of all physical restraint. I remarked that I was rising against my will but I let it be, encouraged it even. I understood that it was for me to leave this artificial universe, the cork of the bottle having been opened for me to do so.


    The soles of my feet shifted naturally to be one against the other forming a pseudo lotus position that felt right, my tail undulating behind me as if it had a mind of its own while all of my six claws shifted into various firm, all clenching and unclenching with the immense power behind them.


    A fanged smile formed on my face as I opened my eyes for the first time. What I saw was a hole in reality above me breaking the endless starless void, my oddly melodious voice smooth, deep, yet gravelly and made of emotions into words resonated into the surrounding nothingness as I spoke, "The exit to my prison toward another one."


    The moment I passed through the tear in reality, my body automatically shifted to smoke and pure energy, a very strange experience if very short-lived as I was back to flesh, blood, and bone once I had exited my confine.


    My body reformed to its original state in front of her, she was holding in one of her pair two-thumbed hands a staff of pure white crystal and in the other the prison bottle I had incubated.


    I towered well over her even without levitating, our gazes locked, her pleased and proud face one I despised but could see every disgusting detail of with my inhuman eyes of which I could see every specter of light and the individual cells that made her with the psychic energy imbued into every last one of them.


    I glowered at her, my earlier smile gone replaced by a thin snarl showing hints of my many fangs while an almost imperceptible growl rumbled in my throat like the engine of an airplane, my eyes locked into her reptilian one filled with the same emotions she kept on showing, joy but with a hint of rapidly disappearing tiredness.


    Through the reflection, I could see my new visage and it gave the color to what I already knew was present, verifying for good that what I was now with all that I knew was the image of the fictional mythical monster that played with reality to its breaking point.


    No humanity could be seen... My skin was of a bluish grey, while my ''beard'', fur, and the wild mane of hair behind were of a deep purple, as for my eyes¡­ My pupils were a deep mauve and red in the middle were the purest gold rings. Speaking of I materialized three more of such rings, one ending around each of my horns while the last shifted size to hold my hair together behind my head in something akin to a top knot


    I suddenly ceased this useless glaring little game that I was playing alone as my rage only amused her but it wasn''t for this I stopped and or why my eyes had widened as I felt something that now my sense to feel creation was not limited to the bottle.


    Something in the local space was wrong, oh so incredibly wrong. It felt like the soulless incarnation of death and sadistic destruction were given physical form as little sense as it made.


    I lacked in all manner of experiences but it was unmistakable I knew that reality was actively being bent, no, violated beyond limits to the whims and the presence of an impossibly powerful being. One that wanted had the goal of my death and all within this strange spaceship and beyond, it wanted the death of that was and wasn''t.


    An alarm blared off everywhere all at once in the spaceship at the same time that a deep feeling of primal dread washed over me, trying to crush my will into submission and instill the despair that death was inevitable, but I knew it was only very convincing lies and so I didn''t falter, still fear bloomed in my heart at what was happening but it was no hindrance.


    But if I faltered then the lies would become reality.


    And before any further useless thought came to be such as the terror on the lizard bitch face that vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by thinly veiled hate equal to mine for her it was followed by her speaking in a language that molded reality. I acknowledged this but didn''t feel on it instead I acted with instinct and knowledge driving me in this completely unfamiliar action.


    By my will, the golden ring of my middle left hand shot out, its diameter increasing by a hundred and time in a fraction of a nanosecond a portal made of a liquid-like flowing constellation came into existence.


    Then at speed outstripping that of light in the void by many folds a never-ending negative grey beam of malevolent eldritch energy reeking of mindless agony, excessive death, and pointless destruction sucking all light blasted through the wall of the chamber and flew into the portal generated by my loop right in front of me.

 5. Godly Meeting

    Moments ago in a small binary star system where a blue dwarf and its twin star a red dwarf could be seen orbiting around each other as they did for billions of years, planets both gaseous and rocky did the same, adorning the duet of stars with their presence in this eternal dance.


    In one of those rocky planets orbiting in the perfect area giving it the right conditions for life to flourish, primeval forest, mountain peaks covered in pure white snow, and crystal clear ocean, river, and lake adorned its pictures and alien landscape.


    This planet''s vast richness was under the control of diminutive sapient bipedal vaguely canid-like creatures with two pairs of arms. It was a species where war and hate for difference within one''s own kind were utterly alien and incompressible.


    They were a young race, barely a millennia-old since they diverged from an ancestor species, and yet their peculiarity, a shared consciousness where each individual added to a psychic network, had led them to be in the middle of undergoing an industrial revolution yet one in full consideration of the nature and life around them.


    With the absence of personal gain and selfishness, all was possible, all should be possible for this nascent race.


    In a few more centuries the stars would be for them to explore and the possibility to discover other life forms and even form friendships would be in their claws.


    Alas, it was not to be, they evolved at the wrong place and at the wrong time. For all the inhabitants of this potentially utopian society, all turned dark, light acting in a way it shouldn''t have led to the delay there should have been to not exist as both suns disappeared at once.


    This impromptu night terrified all, the powerful sensation of terror spreading in the collective that only amplified the sight of space and time folding and dimension colliding in their binary star system.


    From this distortion a fleet of gargantuan proportions appeared, their speed changing from far beyond that of light to absolute stillness in an instant, all the kinetic energy having built up dissipating into pocket dimensions of nothingness, avoiding the fleet to self-annihilate the moment they slowed down.


    The hundreds of thousands of spaceships formed a cloud of scale beyond reason plunging the binary star system into a sea of ominous soulless dark grey and sickly toxic green.


    Their sheer mass in the local space having suddenly appeared affected gravity starting a snowball on the surrounding celestial object, altering their orbits forever but it was a minor worry for what was to come.


    Those cruisers at the quintessence of Realspace sciences and technology were made of a nigh indestructible, self-regenerating, and adapting living metal infamously known as Necrodermis, their forms were fitted with tools and weapons defying all laws of physics while their shape and size ranged widely, each fitted for a precise task.


    The most numerous and common of all ranging in below two kilometres were the Light Cruisers composing three-fourths of the fleet, all designed for speed, maneuverability, assassination, scouting, and harassment of enemy vessels.


    One of such smaller cruisers was the Cartouche-classes; they were a bit more than half a kilometer in width and half of it in length, and their body amounted to a pyramid in the center with on the side a majestic pair of crescent-shaped wings.


    There were many more from Cruisers like the Scythe-class harvest ship close to five kilometers to Battlecruisers nearing eight kilometers in length, but those were only two of many more models, all varying even between the same class showing signs of personalization for many purposes such as showing their allegiance.


    As for the largest of all¡­ The Bringer of Darkness, the heart and the ship of this fleet. It dwarfed the six massive crescent-shaped Cairn-class Tomb Ships each fifteen kilometers long orbiting around it. Using small planetoids would be better objects of comparison for this titan of Necrodermis.


    This was the personal vessel, the flagship, of one the most powerful beings in the Universe, one rivaling for the title of the strongest Star Gods, by their true name the C''tan for they were no mere gods needing worship to live but living aspects of reality. Of course, for being of such ego there was little difference and worship was a want.


    Their body of Necrodermis gave them an anchor for them to bend the Material Realm to their will and whims¡­ They once upon a time weren''t able to for they were unnoticeable and nigh powerless incomprehensible large clouds of energy and consciousness as old as the Universe itself.


    Their current status was all thanks to their soulless servant of this very same metal, the Necron, once of sickly flesh and brittle bone riddled with incurable cancer. Their souls were devoured by their masters in exchange for their mortal organic body to be changed to that of undying metals.


    This very being was sitting in a relaxed posture on a dark grey throne of rather simple design if not for it being equal to multiple stories high buildings in height, the one sitting on it of corresponding size.


    Its male deathly thin yet muscled humanoid frame with pure grey skin that absorbed all light was covered in a tattered cloak of living darkness, hiding very little of its true form. In its right bonny hand was a farming tool, a regular scythe of wood and damaged metal, but its appearance failed to speak volumes of the terror it had brought upon untold species, the recurved blade capable of cutting laws and concepts of reality alike.


    Its ever-shifting visage beyond mortal comprehension possessed two dark voids for eyes that only hungered for destruction and pain in a never-ending cycle of despair. A smile beyond facial proportion and alien emotions was etched on its face


    This was the personification of Death, the one that instilled the fear of death within all that lives with little exception, he was known by many names and titles, the Grim Reaper, the Destroyer of Light, or his personal favorite the Nightbringer.


    "How is the Anomaly faring, my little Diviner? The moment that you have calculated is within moments, an error may not spell an early end for you are a far too valuable and amusing toy but¡­ If the promised satisfaction is revealed to be disappointment¡­ Then the future that is due for your foolishness is but one you have seen unfold countless times.", Aza''gorod the Nightbringer shifting in his seat said, his voice but a deathly whisper promising many things all ending in the slowest and most painful end, his distended smile growing with each word.


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    The ''little Diviner'' that was referred to shivered in terror at the threat, his prostrating posture almost breaking, his android body doing little to stop the dulled but raging emotion from brooding within, terror led to long since gone bodily function from his mortal life to resurface violently; shivering, dilatation of his cyclopean green eyes and tightening of his grip around his staff.


    ''Arrogant and blind creature full of greed¡­ A short-sighted mortal and infantile view of the worlds for such ancient godlike beings¡­ Disappointment would not be the term I would refer to for your kind''s destiny.'', Orikan thought the remnant of his mortal emotion quenching down to let place to one of cold satisfaction, he knew even with the arrival of an entity out of time altered the flow of time in many ways.


    And so he did not fear for his non-life and the accuracy of his divination because events that needed to open would still do so, if ever so slightly differently. He and the one who played had just to adapt to this alien variable.


    But those thoughts didn''t come in for the Necron Cryptek, as the most renowned Chronomamcer of the Infinite Empire he was neither rash nor an imbecile unlike a certain individual he despised before biotransference and so he said in a cold mechanical voice lashed with one might call the highest level of bootlicking that was all but deceit, "Your Highness, under my name and that of all I held loyalty too you are my true master, I will never dare to envision of failing you. The Gate of the Burning One can be opened for your grandiose feast upon the flesh and soul of our pathetic enemies."


    "Yes, my little Diviner. Let them know despair and hopelessness! Let them know eternal night for I''m endless, oblivion, and death! For I''m the Nightbrinher!", the C''tan declared, his distorted smile growing further as he stood up to his full titanic height, the rusted blade of his shining under the green light of the room while within the palm of his hand, a hypersphere of negative grey energy began to coalesce, compressed, and refine itself for this most strange newborn''s multifaceted first gift.


    In the following moment, several things happened in a timeframe that for mortals would contain in five seconds, the Star God of Death and all his brethren felt something, their gaze turning to the spruce, that one point in creation, the one that had been hidden from until now since the event connected to the breach of Well of Eternity.


    It was a nascent being of immense power suddenly coming into reality, it bound to Realspace in a way not entirely dissimilar to theirs, but distinctively different for it was both antithetical yet not, in in the same manner within the Sea of Souls, a new oppressive presence with the same paradoxical quality became known by its closest and most powerful of its denizen, three others major nascent being in particular.


    The Gates of the Burning One or Dolmen Gates, a type of portal for the Necron and the C''tan to pass from Realspace to the hiding place of their enemy with mocking ease had been formed in but an instant by a shift in the fleet formation.


    Like ants forming living bridges, ten thousand Light Cruisers had formed a triangular formation, each of them shaped in a way to connect perfectly together.


    The formation flashed a toxic green leading to space and time tearing apart giving way to an unstable portal leading to the Labyrinth Dimension with no latency the entire flat plunged within, and planets close to which contained the one with life were forced within due to the gravitational disturbance it caused.


    Their destion revealed to be the deepest most hidden depth of this artificial arcane realm between Materium and Imamterium, their target a cluster of Blackstone Fortress huddled within between the polychromatic structure of solidified psychic energy where neither up, down nor left and right existed.


    Then Asa''gorog focused on bringing the fear of the inevitable and on the Anomaly released the hold on the hypersphere, the energy accumulated enough to annihilate star systems from reality and consolidated into one beam that broke and reconstructed reality in its wake as it flew to the target of his focus.


    This act brought to the present where the ancient human turned into a monster of godly power by the madness and despair of the Old Ones under the new name of Hoopa, had felt it and opened a portal in response.


    ''Aza''gorog the Nightbringer¡­ one of the C''tan masters of Realspace, the Necrontyr turned Necron the latter''s creator and slaves¡­ War, death, and pain in excess¡­ The Old Ones¡­ their creations the powerful Krork, the Aeldari, K''nib, and untold more¡­. And me¡­ The creation of Cthylla the Great Old One.'', Hoopa analyzed the constant flux of information being pumped into his mind by the Great Old One in question.


    There were an ungodly amount of things thrown at him all at once, hundreds of thousands of years and hundreds of thousands of years of conflict and more in various subjects like who was the enemy and who wasn''t compacted into a few dense packages giving an immediate understanding of the situation¡­


    He didn''t trust it all, of course, it was filled with propaganda and bias but it was enough for him to realize he had underestimated how dire the situation was.


    He was a product born out of the despair of a dying race, a race so powerful they could be considered gods.


    It gave him the basics for him to construct a relatively good understanding of his situation, his role, and his position. It was a hasty one lacking detail and depth but there wasn''t really the time for an in-depth explanation recapitulating close to a million years worth of galaxy-spanning war of complexity far beyond mortal and immortal comprehension.


    But the fact that Cthylla had this prepared meant the attack that just happened while probably not anticipated this way meant she knew an attack would come and had a plan to cut short on his ''education'' in such a case. She was no fool.


    ''I recognize this universe¡­ It''s the one my brother was obsessed with and spent an exorbitant amount on plastic figurine army, not that I was better with my card collection and the conventions¡­ Another thing I will never see and experience again.'', he thought simultaneously with the continual flux of information.


    The exact name escaped him, the timeline too but in the end, it mattered little to him for he didn''t know much of this universe to start with¡­ Aside from that it was a horrific one filled with eldritch abomination that he was likely now part of and shaky information from a few dumb memes with a blurry Fanfic here and there.


    Adding that it could be just another one with similarities. Infinity made it so nothing was unique, it could be or it couldn''t. He would never be certain so pondering further on it was a waste of time.


    "This is the reason you stole everything from me¡­ For your war, a war I shouldn''t be part of but I now am. How the mighty have fallen to require a mortal''s help.", Hoopa said in an even tone as he gazed at the approaching Necron fleet through the hole of the damaged Blackstone Fortress, a part of his focus on the one that had shot him.


    He could feel the Nightbringer smirk. Luckily there was a moment of respite as the cluster of Fortress had erected a psychic shield of complex attack and extreme potency that he felt wouldn''t be able to break by simple brute force, not that a barrier of such nature was of use against him.


    As for his words¡­ They went unanswered by her, she didn''t even look in his direction but she had heard it and continued to speak in her tongue that bent reality for what she was doing was far more important than his spite.


    Her voice reached a crescendo and he felt a shift in the Sea of Souls, the dimensions he suddenly gained full access to with the collapse of the room rune matrix and that felt he could bend to his very will.


    He had been deeply aware of this dimension the moment he was out of his prison bottle but not this clearly, it was more of a slight buzz.


    There were a lot of eyes on him from all of its inhabitants, anger, curiosity, love, and more all contradictory to the last but it wasn''t only the Neverborns, the ones connected to it to a far lesser degree than he was focused on him such as the Aeldari.


    Awe, fear, and reverence for they instinctively understood like he did the strict hierarchy between them, he was superior and they were inferior.


    He realized that he was proving to be a great distraction to them for the approaching battle, he wasn''t exactly making himself hard to notice and so like reducing the flow of a faucet his overwhelming presence receded to a less overbearing level.


    Hoopa didn''t have anything against them and any of the other races aboard the Blackstone Fortresses, quite the opposite.


    For him, they were just as much a victim as he was, if not more, like all of the other Old Ones'' ''Young Races'' as they were called. They were weapons, meat shields, and puppets to be used by those cowardly saurians far too afraid to face the consequences of their actions.


    And like he, it must be in their genes to obey more so with how they are tricked to do so thinking this was a noble and sacred edict given by their creators. They all were slaves but the threat entailed a far worse fate.


    The shift in the Sea of Souls was related to those points, the Aeldari and Neverborns, she was bringing reinforcement in the form that in a very broad way could be considered as a distant family and this being wasn''t coming alone too it seemed.


    And this second guest was the first to arrive, manifesting in a flurry of light, sparkle, firework and confetti an eerie laugh echoed announcing the coming of a mask a mix between a plague mask and that of a laughing drama mask made of metal, two piercing red eyes flashed with amusement and wonder in the eyes socket.


    From this mask a boot came out it spun and grew into a leg, and a gloved hand followed, the second boot soon came after and the rest of the body ensued. It was a male androgynous humanoid figure close to half Hoopa size and dressed in extravagant colorful puffy garb.


    "Ohohohoh, isn''t this a truly fascinating day to be alive?! My sincerest apology to have invited myself to this mery party my dearest scaly Mother but I must present myself to this very young youngling. Greetings unlucky Traveler from beyond the Well of Eternity, I''m known as Cegorach the self-appointed Laughing God and First Fool at your service!", the Aeldari God of Creativity, Trickery, and Deception announced with an overdramatic bow and a hat-tipped over.

 6. Honest Mistake

    My eyes studied the embodiment of clownery for no other words could describe him better, it wasn''t an insult but what he was. He wasn''t of flesh and blood like I or the lizard bitch were, not I fully was either but for him, it was fully.


    He was a beautifully crafted psychic construct of emotions, concepts, faith, belief, and untold more that held him together by a matrix of unfathomable arcane that made him into the living being that he was.


    It was truly fascinating, my body instinct screaming to learn more while understanding trickled down to me with the little I could glimpse on the surface. Hypotheses after hypotheses strung themselves together in moments, all slightly different and more concise than the last as I became even more deeply aware of ones of my new natures, magic, the manipulation of psychic energy¡­


    The mystic art as a whole, the fact that I was interested in it, to begin with, it was fucking magic after all only helped. It felt like breathing for lack of comparison, not that it''s something I needed to do to live now.


    Back to the clown''s nature, the term god wouldn''t be what I would call him but what would be more due to the fact I was vastly stronger, at least in raw power and that would mean calling myself this which I think wasn''t appropriate. Winning might not be guaranteed but losing was an impossibility.


    A part of my paradoxical essence could erode his existence. Just like I could with all psychic constructs as I felt the world around me break and rebuild itself in my presence, it was due to my alien nature that much I could notice but what was its true potential only time would tell.


    The doubt about winning was born out of common sense, he was eons older than me and had all that came with this fact, being bigger and meaner with my few seconds of life meant critically wounding him would be a certainty on a surprise attack but more than that and it became foggy.


    A child will not win against a grown man but that is in normal circumstances. All will change if said child had a taser, a knife or any other weapon adding the grown man would nine times out of ten underestimate the danger a child possessed even if armed. The child to begin with could not be alone.


    Again¡­ It was common sense and I must never forget it, things were far more complex than ''me strong and you die cause weak''. It wasn''t a game with dumb fixed stats and strict rules to abide by, no matter what I had become could be found in one such game.


    ''One of my first thoughts¡­ Analyze, study, and evaluate the potential threat and how to proceed for its termination. I should be horrified but I''m not and I know what I have become. There is no denying but that''s not a fatality¡­ I''m me, whatever it truly entails is for me to discover.'', I computed calmly how alien I was compared to the regular 21st-century human male I once was, of all that was ripped away and twisted.


    I was aware of it already but this was this and this was that experiencing something so visceral was indescribable, doing the same in an egg to this being vastly different too.


    In any case¡­ He seemed to not be a total piece of shit of an individual, to say he was good would be false, he was someone to not fully trust but he had at least some empathy for my situation if his psychic aura and greeting speech were any indication.


    It wasn''t useful but appreciated nonetheless and something I suppose quite uncommon for a ''god'' but that was more of my innate bias talking.


    The reality that it was a trick would always be at the back of my mind though, but I wasn''t going to be an asshole for no reason to something that was a powerful ally and of equal standing.


    My little bouts of brainstorming happened in a very short time, just like his speech, we didn''t function at the same speed a human did.


    Still, the time I didn''t let my interlocutor wait further and I answered through my fanged jaws in this alien chirping and melodious language reminiscent of bird chants that I had been speaking naturally since hatching and all others were as well, "Hello¡­. Cegorach, fascinating, is quite the downplay for me. A pleasure to meet you I suppose, I''m not sure how to process this further. It''s new for me."


    The clown merrily laughed while one of his yellowish gloves that was his hand moved and booped me on the tip of my beak which led me to blink in confusion and him chuckling.


    "Hmm-hn indeed! Indeed it is! Why wouldn''t it be? It''s your birthday and first taste of battle! Two for the price of one! Wouldn''t you agree to this, my lovely brother Khaine?", Cegorath said, his body bouncing and bobbing around in a way nothing with any skeletal system should.


    His words were directed to the one the lizard bitch had invoked with the Song of Creation, he stepped out of a slash in reality made by a flaming blade fueled by wrath and malice hotter than any stars, the world melting at its sharp edge.


    "Silence with your yammering you buffoon of a god.", the owner of the fiery blade said with palpable irritation, anger if not wrath even the emotion that embodied him.


    "Oh how hurtful your words are to my sensible heart! Do you have any modicum of love for your most faithful brother even after all of my advice and help? But if you desire, my mouth will be zipped.", the Clown God said dramatically in faux-pains, as the other Aeldari God exited the slash in reality.


    His imposing figure of carved muscles was taller than me, his glistening metallic bronze skin shifted from exposed part to a divine armor of the same material radiating power and raw violence, the upward growing horns on his helmet amplifying his presence tenfold.


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    ''I can''t win against him, not in a direct way anyway.'', was my immediate analysis of my winning chance aside from that he seemed to be an asshole, a very, very strong one, one far stronger than me in terms of raw potency brought by psychic energy. But I was a newborn, this was an important point to be noted.


    His fiery red eyes locked on my own, he knew I was analyzing him, and a smile formed on his sharp angular features at this. It was a bloodthirsty one filled with sharp metallic teeth that was both pleased, amused, and challenging.


    His attention came with a feeling of great pressure that felt almost suffocating and for lower life forms would have vaporized their very soul, I only responded in kind by using my aura which thanks to my alien nature eroded his own, it was more to entertain his little game of horn tutting than anything else.


    And I''m not so hypocritical to say I do not find it exciting myself, conflict and contradiction, chaos in a way seemed overly attractive. More than I was comfortable with and liked.


    However¡­ There was no true animosity from him at best curiosity, it was more of a greeting if a rather strange one. It would be comparable to a strong handshake to harmlessly test the others.


    "You¡­ Hoopa was it, let''s see how you fare on the battlefield and if you are worthy to be in my presence. This shall prove to be a day worth remembering for eternity, let''s upon the glory of war, death, and destruction!", the God of War, Violence, and Murder exclaimed in a deep earth-shaking voice, excitement could be felt within the oozing bloodlust of his tone.


    -Enough, the time is not adequate for pleasantness! My children, shatter this star parasite, the False Death, and destroy its measly fleet of soulless automatons and all that it represents! Bring me and my most honored people a most triumphant victory!-, the voice of the lizard bitch reached my mind just as she warped away in the deepest confines of the Fortress.


    It was as if a flip was switched inside me, a task that I must do no matter what.


    It was out of my control, I hated it from every metaphysical fiber of my being but I was powerless, weak by design to be her slave, just like my ''siblings'' and so by her will I will fight until our enemies are but dust lost in the cosmos.


    Of course, I will proceed on doing so in the way I desire, what matters is the result, the destination, not the adventure and friends made through it. I''m not a perfect puppet to her, the control she held over me was vast but not total and it was also by design.


    How could I be her Magnum Opus if I''m a dumb automaton obeying her every word to the T with no ability to think further whatsoever and adapt, or even be a good weapon in an impossibly complex war with being intelligent beyond any humans?


    This meant anything that wasn''t direct and truly concrete commands were left to interpretation or might not even work, the more complex and vague the request was the more loopholes there were for me to exploit. The Devil was in the details.


    How much I anticipated the moment she would realize the size of her mistake¡­ But it wasn''t for now, I needed knowledge, allies, and experience¡­ And several plans.


    ''I can''t wait for this moment¡­ But first my battle first, one of many to come.''


    ?????


    The mental command by the Great Old One was shared with the three of her creation, Khaine being the first to act, his powerful armored figure shifted into a battle stance, his feet parted, one at the front and the other at the side, the grip on the pommel of his goldy blade the Widowmaker tightened as he aimed the wicked blade horizontally to his head moved his arm in an attack stance.


    Then with a mighty war cry that resonated through untold billions bringing terror, bloodlust, and a wish for murder and violence in all, he launched himself at unparalleled speed toward the Bringer of Darkness, the commander ship of the Necron fleet.


    "Always so eager for violence! How uncouth and typical of him. Hoopa my dear, could you please open me the way to the lower bridge for I''m not fit for combatting such crass metal creatures, you see. I''m a partisan of lesser and eloquent violence, my role is here shalt be more supportive than aggressive and my faithful need my help.", the Great Harlequin asked, his tone both endearing, jovial, and serious.


    "My role as a taxi begins it seems.", the ex-human mumbled but did as asked, a ring from one of his six forearms flew out and expanded in size which the Aeldari God passed through without any hesitation showing trust that didn''t go unnoticed.


    Now physically alone Hoopa stared at the hole in the chamber, the golden ring around his pupil bright as his emotions were wild inside, nervousness, terror and so much more running yet his mind was clear and he could think properly.


    His brain worked on hundreds of scenarios from the knowledge he received about the Necron, from how their blades vibrate and cut through multiple layers of reality to the frictionless technology used by their ship to travel in Realspace but also the constant buzzing of telepathic messages between all psychically gifted race and his monstrous senses.


    Khaine had yet to arrive at his target, the armies and the different races composing them were in a sort of chaotic orders as they ran and prepared for their post obeying the panicking weaker Old Ones, the appearance of the Laughing God alleviating their charges, the cluster Blackstone Fortresses accumulated condensed psychic energy for furthering the defense but also for the counter-attack, the Necron fleet with many cruisers and soldiers on the attack firing green beams of energy that defied physics.


    Many things were happening at once, and Hoopa wasn''t sure how to proceed with any advanced battle plan so he decided not to. He will improvise with what he has in his six hands as things go on, it''s not as if he had many other options.


    But what took his focus for one of those options was born of fragments that remained of his consciousness, it was something ''unimportant'' to his instinct, so below him his body told him that it became commercially horrifying for him.


    A planet full of life with its sapient inhabitants, billions of innocent lives with family, brothers, sisters, friends, enemies, hopes, and dreams in the middle of what could be called a clash between gods.


    Their lives soon come to an end in a brutal apocalypse a byproduct of the ongoing conflict, just like a group of children in the middle of a war in an area that was in the middle of being bombarded, they couldn''t comprehend what was happening, the why or who or when but what they do understand is that death is coming.


    He didn''t want it to happen, it was unfair and he had the right to try and a colder part of him told it would be wasting potential.


    ''Fuck the battle, it can wait for a little.'', he thought slightly conflicted, in all case death in ungodly amounts was on the menu and so he chose fully knowing his hypocrisy to try and help the lives he deemed more innocent but it was also the one that was at risk of disappearing forever, cutting short all of its potentials.


    Closing his eyes for a brief instant his entire body shifted and he stood up from his perpetual sitting position, a ring flew out generating a portal and in the next instant he moved himself through it leaving the room empty


    The first thing that greeted Hoopa when he exited was a small rustic village that reminded him of a mix between late medieval Europe and classic Japanese houses but with a pinch of mud and thatch huts.


    The second thing was screams of unaltered terror but also agony directed at him from the canine-like inhabitants, for good reasons, he was massive or they were really small, or the most likely it was both. He was taller than their tallest building by a factor of two, adding that he came out of nowhere and it wasn''t the only factor.


    -Be not afraid, I do not bear the intention to cause you harm. I have come to help.-, he uttered telepathically as gently and delicately to the crowd for he understood the difference in power to form an understanding.


    At least that was what he believed to do, but beliefs weren''t reality, and in the urgency of the moment with his non-existent experience he made several rookie mistakes. None of them he could have reasonably avoided in any meaningful way that would have stopped the horrifying scene unfolding before his widening eyes.


    He was a newborn less than five minutes old, as formidable as he was he lacked in many, many aspects.


    The delicate art of telepathy first and foremost required a deep knowledge of the emotions, memory, mind, soul, and body each that he lacked in their near entirety but also vast training and experience to communicate with alien minds far stronger or weaker than your own.


    This was more so with alien minds that were intricately interconnected together to form a mental hub through which they communicated, spoke to their ancestor, and exchanged knowledge.


    Bad luck for him and worse luck for his interlocutors, it was this exact scenario here.


    He had used the same technique Chtylla used to speak mentally to him and his ''brothers''.


    He had naively and arrogantly hoped that tweaking telepathy for godly beings on the fly to be adapted for this scenario would suffice and as such he violated, shattered, and broke the shared consciousness creating a cataclysmic chain reaction within the entire species he had come to help.

 7. Jumping into the Fray

    The Khra''e, the dominant sapient inhabiting their planet Khra''ltva, was going to undergo a mass extinction event for they were at the wrong place and time.


    K''ltutv a young adult male member of this species was crying bluish blood rich in copper, he was lucky that many more of his brethren had their eyes ruptured and veins in their brains explode at the sight of the source of this event.


    Intelligible screams of terror and agony ensued but not him, he didn''t act this way for fear was not what he felt at the forefront, this being, this thing was far above any of them, standing in his presence was an affront in itself.


    Its shape was for them everchanging, impossible to describe in detail but its main attribute stood out, a horned head, six disembodied hands, a tail, and a vaguely male figure.


    It was a monster, a demon, an angel, a god, a spirit, a nightmare, an abomination, or any other name for such creatures little for he was a being of unfathomable presence, reality broke and reformed in


    Its presence and all that gazed upon him began losing their very self.


    Insanity and madness befell on them for their mind couldn''t comprehend such a paradoxical and unnatural being. It wasn''t their fault, or due to weak minds, it was simply the order of things.


    But¡­ The rampant delirium had not had the time to show its deteriorating effect that this very being K''ltutv felt none of them were worthy of even existing in its mere presence spoke through their species'' psychic link and shared consciousness, the Chamber of the Ancestor.


    Its voice was soft, deep, and melodious superior to the most beautiful symphony their species had ever woven into reality but of nature and power eldritch in origin, alien and destructive, antithesis yet not to the world. A polyphonic voice that could bring both prosperity and annihilation and all that existed could be grasped and held for none could escape it.


    -Be not afraid, I do not bear the intention to cause you harm. I have come to help.-


    Yet again none could truly appreciate it nor the words and their meaning could be understood for they together with how the link had been shaped shattered this very same Chamber of the Ancestor.


    This was their species'' highest creation that connected them all, alive and dead as knowledge and experience from ancient and present times melded together in an ever-increasing progress in every domain. Their dream, hope, and future breaking apart in a puff of smoke.


    It had instant and grievous consequences on the entirety of the species, close to ten billion died in an instant, infants, children, teenagers, adults, seniors, males, females, sick and healthy no matter their physical characteristics, like and dislike all mattered little against the obsidian black, violet and dark purple sun of impossible heat that extinguished their souls while their body collapsed, eyes ball busted, muzzle and ear pouring blood and other unrecognizable tissues.


    It happened at unprecedented speed luckily far too quickly for any to have felt any kind of pain or if they did their melting nervous system couldn''t comprehend it. One second they were alive the next their world disappeared as their souls and minds were engulfed and erased by a paradoxical force.


    But not all of them had died¡­ A fraction had survived hanging onto life with varying degrees of injuries, more dying by the second but this fraction of a fraction that survived had their souls, minds, and bodies tainted, scarred, and mutated with this psychic-anti-psychic burn scar forever more.


    K''ltutv was one of them but surviving was not without pain, his body was spasming on the ground, agony mental and physical with a sense of euphoria and power mixed together as the bones in his body broke and regenerated, his skin morphed, all of his furs fell off revealing milky grey skin adorned with pulsating veins.


    His ear, enlarged and became pointy, his upper shoulder blades broke followed by the upper arm with the fingers elongating into pseudo membranous wings, the lower arms grew in size and bulk, third scrawny deformed ones growing right in the middle, the tail became almost scorpion-like while the digigrated legs became had similar treatment then at last he fell unconscious, ferocious fangs jutting outward in a twisted snarl.


    This phenomenon was not unique to K''ltutv, it was happening simultaneously to thousands of his kindred, the shambles that were their shared consciousness giving awareness of one another until they blacked out together.


    The individual that had caused this planetary-wide tragedy on a blunter that he clumsily tried to fix with power he had no concrete understanding of or control of was staring with a conflicted mix of emotion at everything, his senses both through Realspace and the Sea of Souls giving noodles and understanding of all that happened in the greatest of detail.


    ''I¡­ I didn''t want to do this¡­ What I have done¡­ Billions gone, killed by me, and the survivor twisted into something else by my own doing.'', Hoopa thought as he closed his left middle hand, the pinkish-purple psychic energy vanishing from his hasty act of fixing and stopping the consequences of his action.


    ''And it felt the same as stepping halfway on a snail¡­ Slight guilt but not much else, I feel more shame about the fact I failed than what I did. What the fuck did she do to me.'', was his horrifying realization, what he did was beyond monstrous that he initially wanted to do it or not mattered little in the end.


    It was something equal and comparable to what was done to him even if it was by accident, and even if their fate without his intervention was sealed to begin with. It didn''t change what he did, he didn''t simply kill them, he erased their souls. There was no going back for them, they couldn''t be more dead.


    And he didn''t dwell on it, not by choice, he couldn''t do so for the battle had truly begun at this very moment. A moment marked by the Aeldari God of War, Violence, and Murder''s flaming blade colliding with the green rusting one of the Necron God of Death, Darkness, and Destruction.


    The shockwave of the impact permeated through the time and space of Realspace, the tumultuous waves of the Sea of Soul, and the convoluted barriers of the Labyrinth Dimension.


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    It propagated far and wide from the epicenter in every direction reaching light year away and its collateral damages were vast, from material to the hundred thousand that died at this instant Aeldari, K''nib, Rashan, Krork, and more but it was mainly the weaker of each race that succumbed, even Necron had their living metal body ripped apart.


    The planet Hoopa was on was not spared, but for him, it was the exact opposite, it was the equivalent of a strong breeze blowing slightly his fur, beard, and hair messing them a little which was immediately fixed. But that was for him... On the soon-to-be-dead planet, it was far different, disasters happened everywhere all at once and on scales far beyond natural as the heart of the planet had been shattered.


    The crust fissured at every point causing earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, ravin and untold more to happen, the atmosphere was not spared either like a dust cloud in a storm it was pushed away, and the water, air, and all that stood following the same as they became space dust killing all life on the planet.


    But Hoopa had anticipated this and shields of potent psychic energy had been preemptively formed around all that he had twisted into what could but be called abominations protecting them all from death both physical and metaphysical.


    ''I don''t have time to brood. I need to warp them far away now in a safe place¡­ It''s what I wanted to do, to begin with. Why did I have to try and interact with them?'', Hoopa thought, and this led to another horrifying realization that he wouldn''t have had to filter out a great majority of the population choosing from who to who was more worthy of life.


    Passing from a few million to realistically transport to less than a thousand eased the process greatly, to say the least, not that he could have saved them all, to begin with. It also meant he wouldn''t have had to choose who died on this broken planet.


    All these deep and conflicting thoughts were born out of self-reflection on his lack of humanity and his actions happened simultaneously with a multitude of others he was having. And so at the same time, he conjured portals with three of his rings.


    He didn''t even dare hold them directly for he feared he would crush them or his psychic essence would kill them if he had a lapse in concentration, which was a high possibility. Around the planet, thousands of stones, from the size of a room to islands encapsulated in psychic bubbles began to float and moved at speeds far beyond that of sound through his rings'' portal.


    Once all were gone the rings flew back to his arms and he closed his eyes for a short second mumbling a sorry, they had been warped to a planet with a similar atmosphere and condition to this one a hundred thousand light years away.


    At least it should be if his sense and intuition were correct, and they were as he checked just to make sure by creating another portal. He didn''t need to have made another mistake right now, at least toward them for he knew they would have consequences, maybe none that would affect him but there would be that is certain.


    ''They should be able to survive and repopulate here.'', he hoped, on that point if he messed up their species or not the result would have been out of his control. It was up to them to survive and thrive, a logical part of him told him that his initial blunter and the action to fix it might even be beneficial toward that goal.


    "The fight now¡­", he mumbled entering a ring that just popped from his left upper hand as another shockwave, weaker this time similarly shook the planet and the world around and it was one of many that came in the following seconds.


    Reappearing in the middle of the Necron fleet he blocked all projection shots at him, from arcs of green lighting, higher dimensional bullets, beams of antimatter, and more that played with all laws of physics like a fiddle.


    But all the products of those weapons at the epitome of science dissipated against the psychic shield that he kept on improving with each hit it received. Faults and defaults in its design changed and improved each second.


    One arm shot out to the closest Light Cruiser that was two kilometers and a half in width and one in length, his fist pulsating with dark electricity impacted its head. Then the Necron spaceship exploded in green plasma, forming a cone shape from the point of impact, the psychic energy-enhanced punch ravaging all.


    "Egyptian space robots, how quaint. You are one of the mindless ones so it''s moot to try to converse. That would have been interesting.", he let out with fascination taking a good look at his unliving foe he managed to grasp with his attack, it was the pilot, decorated with strange symbols and of grey metallic body that would likely rip apart humans but for him it was no more than a toy he could hold between two fingers.


    He crushed it like the bug that it was and it turned into glitching toxic green motes of light, his curiosity temporarily satiated then he truly began the offensive. His six wrist rings popped off and the death ray from the Nightbringer shot outward in thinner beams from the constellation-like aesthetic of the portal.


    He kept track of the attack he had sent away, getting it back and using it as its advantage was child play. Showing how strong he was on a base level and it was far from an unpleasant realization, just like how he crushed the robot. It was hard to describe but the feeling of utter power and control was one he found, right in a way that responded to him on an instinctual level.


    And it showed him how strong the original ray was too, the three-meter thick beams of negative grey light divided from it moved at a speed his eyes could barely follow as they erased from reality for no better word could describe what was happening to everything they passed through.


    The six beams cut everything apart before starting the necrosis of all that was close to the point of impact, it mattered little if it was matters that could do so to begin, it bent reality. An interesting thing since it didn''t happen to the Blackstone Fortress, likely due to its nature beyond Realspace, Hoopa presumed.


    Hundreds to ten thousand Cruisers were taken by those beams and he constantly changed directions by invoking new portals creating a virtually infinite weapon of mass destruction.


    A rumbling monstrous laugh echoed from his chest and a fanged grin that put even more in evidence his large tusks. The rain of toxic green light never ceased once to rain on his shield doing little to sour his mood, it did the exact opposite.


    The entire scene gave Hoopa a deep sense of satisfaction that was far too addictive, just like those videos on the internet from his past life but turned up to a hundred. He was enjoying this far too much, and he had passed over the death of billions by his hand far too easily, he was aware of it all but right now¡­ He couldn''t bring himself to care and it made him think of something else.


    The sheer destruction was a spectacle beautiful beyond words to his inhuman brain, and he knew he would amplify it to an unprecedented level.


    But it wasn''t only him that was decimating them, the technologically superior Necrons'' greatest weakness was his ''camp'' greatest strength, magic, the battlefield being in a space amplifying it to high heaven worsening the automaton''s case further.


    The psychically gifted race under the careful machinations and commands of the Laughing God were massacring the undying metal warriors by the thousand, per second on mobile bridges of evershifting light all around, the notion of up and down, left, and right not applicable here leading to vast armies fighting everywhere all at once.


    It was the same for the aerial battle, each Cruiser of equal size from one camp would take down dozens and dozens of the others by the use of a focused psychic matrix, expert maneuver, perfect coordination, and simple overall superiority.


    The only true damage that was sustained was the result of Khaine and Aza''gorod''s duel which Hoopa could see and feel, each of their blows, blade against blade damaged concepts and reality alike as they moved through everything, destroying ally and enemy alike in their wake without care.


    ''This is odd¡­ Something is going on but what? This doesn''t make sense otherwise for them to attack this way.'', he thought with a bit of apprehension trying to find a reason as to why they were doing this from the knowledge given to him and he found none which was aggravating.


    Whatever was being brewed wasn''t going to be good and it was going to change the rhythm of the battle that Hoopa was certain of.


    The beams of the Nightbringher suddenly fizzled out to Hoopa''s disappointment but that was not a great loss. He was more surprised he was let off using it for so long.


    What replaced them was born out of his power giving exponentially more control and versatility. Plunging his hands halfway into the rings he condensed his psychic then from portals appearing at calculated coordinates he shot at repetition but with surgical precision obsidian colored beams toward the surrounding battleships.


    The destruction he was causing multiplied twelvefold and kept on growing, a part of his potent psychic nature imbued into the beams caused matter to disappear in an explosion of pure black and white.


    That was only the first part, each time a psychic beam reached its target it exploded into dozens of thinner beams that shot outward from the point of impact like a magnificent firework.


    But that wasn''t all either, those smaller beams targeted nearby Cruisers like heat-seeking missiles, each of them sharing similar properties as the original, as such they exploded into smaller fireworks engendering even thinner beams that themselves possess the same characteristics thereby creating ever-growing tides of self-multiplying, and self-targeting purely destructive beams from a single shot.


    It wasn''t hard to do, neither on the technical aspect nor on how much energy was pushed behind. Like the two others in their duel, he was holding back greatly for he lacked control and the point was to murder each other, not destroy a quarter of the Milky Way beyond repair, if not far more. Even for the C''tan, he had his fleet and flagship right in the middle, losing them all would be an unpleasant outcome.


    It still could come down to it but not right off the bat, it was still the warm-up stage of the battle so to say.


    Speaking off¡­ Hoopa''s next target was this very flagship, one bigger than even some planet but its destruction was not to be for his time playing alone with the robots came to an end in the most violent of ways.


    A sensation of dread and terror came over him, his eyes widened locking onto the edge of the rusted iron blade of a scythe that came out of nothing and was swiping downward to his nape to rip his life.

 8. Battle of Gods

    Hoopa''s golden and purple iris stared at the deadly blade glowing an intense negative grey coming toward his neck to claim his life, many emotions sprung force at this instant, many of which were simple artifice products of this fundamental parasite of reality that wanted to end him.


    It was the second time he felt it but it was much more visceral, much more real and concrete, but it still had little to no effect on his mind. However, it sent his body into a response equal to an extremely potent adrenaline rush.


    Psychic energy from the Sea of Souls was directly pumped into his being, his bone, skin, muscles, and nervous system were enhanced, and veins popped below his taut grey skin as his perception of reality clarified and slowed down manifold. It was a fit of instinctual biomancy, his second time using it as well but without violent mutation this time.


    However, this spurt of power didn''t change his predicament for his attacker was still faster and stronger but also far more apt at battling as such Hoopa couldn''t hope to dodge, escape, or even formulate any complex amateurish spell in that fraction of a time far smaller than a nanosecond.


    Maybe if he was more experienced and knowledgeable he could have had another solution but it wasn''t the case. His only option was to block and reduce the incoming damage as much as possible.


    His immediate response was in the form of empowering his psychic shield to a high degree, though it was only a part of his answer to potential crippling injury. He also used as a makeshift physical shield the ring held in his middle right hand by stretching it like a solid rubber band using three other clawed hands, the dark blue portal akin to the most beautiful night sky manifesting with it.


    Then the impact came and the color of the world faded and turned in several gradients of black, white, and grey for the briefest of moments aside from them.


    Everywhere the color shifted was erased from reality to the deepest level of existence, a fourth of the battlefield disappeared as it touched all and didn''t discriminate, be it Cruisers of Necron, Aeldari, Krork, and beyond in origin, the infinite paraphysical light bridges and the armies fighting on and below it no matter the camps.


    The walls of the Labyrinth Dimension that had been damaged by the Necron entry like clothes facing a wall of thorn were ripped off in many places creating thousands of passages to the raging and tormented Sea of Souls boosting the psychic power of all connected to it to new height.


    But it came with a price, it gave way to monsters that had been only spectators until now, endless swarms of Neverborns, predominantly Daemons, predatory malicious psychic abominations of all shapes, colors, and raw primal emotions poured out by the millions from the tears to feed upon the delectable souls of the Young Race as they joined the endless frenzy of flesh, psionic, and metal.


    While this was happening the hastily overcharged psychic shield boosted further by this rise in ambient psychic energy shattered into countless fragments like glass, it never had the chance to hold against the scythe of the Grim Reaper, the tool of the personification of the end, a tool that would bring swathes of entire galaxies to ash.


    Then this very weapon slammed against the pure golden surface of the ring however it didn''t didn''t slash through it in one full swipe.


    Sparks of impossible color and sounds akin to a chorus of nails on chalkboards that would cause insanity were emitted as the rusted blade rapped against the ring, leaving deep scratch marks.


    Ultimately the unorthodox weapon cut halfway through the ring while the other half of the blade glowing grey plunged into the portal and the curved blade prepared behind, digging three forth within its owner''s tattered grey hood and Necrodermis skull.


    Alas, it didn''t go further, and neither did it kill the attacker. And the ring didn''t stay still even with the hold of his arms, the power behind the hit had been transferred to it, one far beyond simple kinetic energy, reality, and unreality melding together from the shock.


    Hoopa felt it all slam against his chest causing him to widen his eyes in pain and spit droplets of obsidian black blood and saliva with the impact as the hit affecting both reality and irreality pushed him violently downward at unprecedented speed.


    ''Son of a bitch that stung.'', the ex-human thought as his already fully healed body flew through a ring that he preemptively invoked right in the direction he would be thrown.


    This let him dodge the following chain of attack that would have inevitably come but it also stopped him from inadvertently killing everyone on the light bridges far down below or up or left or right, the concept of direction was not paramount here. Many had died but it was no reason to kill more when the option not to was available.


    "Oh running away already after such an underhanded attack on my person¡­ I see the traits of your creator, the traits of your Mother are clear in you. But that is a pointless endeavor, like her, my dear little foreign friend. You cannot escape, hide, and run from Death for I''m inevitable.", Aza''gorod spoke amusedly trying to rear the Master of the Rings back with no apparent success, his voice enough to kill.


    And it did, Aeldari and others of the Young Race died on the spot everywhere within the local reality, their souls for the elves-like creatures never to be reincarnated as true death claimed them. Only the blessing of the Laughing God stops untold more death from happening, his presence supporting.


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    The Nightbringer possessed a deranged smile that split his face as his dark void that served as eyeballs shifted around and a frown formed on his nonexistent brow while his skull and hood mended themselves back together leaving no hint of damage.


    However, his void-filled eyes suddenly locked onto a burning crimson-red star flying toward his direction at an extreme velocity that rendered photons sluggish in comparison, controlled hate, mastered rage, and focalized bloodlust oozing to the point the world broke with its radiation.


    "NIGHTBRINGER, COWARD! STOP SLIPPING AWAY FROM MY BLADE FILTHY HONORLESS MONGREL, FIGHT ME LIKE THE TITLES YOU LAY CLAIM TO!", the booming raging voice of Khaine filled with righteous fury echoed as the Aeldari God in question thrust his flaming sword at the C''tan chest.


    "Why so much anger, Godling of War?", the Necron God of Death taunted with a dark chuckle, barely parrying the flaming blade of the bronze giant with the pole of his scythe before dashing backward and parrying the flurry of blades with difficulty as cuts appeared over his unliving body and healed far slower than the failed bisection from his scythe.


    Then without warning golden rings appeared around them and from the portals psychic beams of infinite darkness came raining down on the Nightbringer leaving a bone-deep burn that like acid kept on eating his body stopping all possible mending while doing so.


    "You join again, little one? Then you are not far, I can feel you now, hiding nearby in this false dimension of mortal emotions out of my reach. I must confess, this eases my work greatly.", the C''tan said his power exploded outward, detonating the black beams with a pale grey veil of his power.


    But it only worsened his situation, the beams of the Anomaly retained the same nature as the ones that destroyed the Necron Cruisers by the thousand, the only difference was that they were far more powerful.


    The veil blocked beams, neutralizing them but it led to holes to form where more beams came of equal power as they did not obey any laws of reality and were fueled by one of the most powerful creatures that had ever and will ever exist.


    The more of those new beams were ended the more they divided, divided, divided, and divided in a never-ending cycle of dark waves, drowning the Nightbringer in a tenebrous sea of corrosive water.


    The multiple layers of veil that followed only marginally stopped the onslaught and the sudden apparition of incoming punches from the golden ring fueled by this same bizarre psychic aura only aggravated the C''tan''s predicament as they hit randomly, hard, viciously, and accurately, always focusing on weak points for the Aeldari God to cause more damage with his sword Widowmaker.


    Khaine took full advantage of the Archdjinni aid as the two worked in perfect tandem, telepathic messages continuously exchanged.


    Their coordination was beyond any right it should be even with their godly status, their assault exponentially gaining in power as the clock ticked. In normal times the fact his duel was broken by a third party would have displeased Khaine greatly but the circumstances here were far different.


    He was not mindless rage and bloodlust, the third party, Hoopa had been forcefully brought in by his adversary by cowardly means, and that made it so that those emotions were channeled to those who deserve them, the C''tan.


    A foolish action Khaine thought even from such a creature. C''tan were not known for their logic or wise mind even with their unparalleled intellect, at the best of times they acted like bipolar petulant toddlers, barring a very select few that the Nightbringer was excluded from even with his might.


    But they weren''t foolish to this degree, voluntarily adding an enemy of equal power to a losing fight was very strange, and this with the choice of a disadvantageous battlefield on top of it. Like Hoopa, he knew something was off, but neither could tell what and that was pressing them to work harder at their task given by the Great Old One.


    As such the battle, the heart of the conflict of destruction dwarfing all others within the battlefield continued as the trio responsible for it moved across its endless size passing by spaceships, light bridges, the many shattered planets destroying them further, and even the two stars that had been sucked in by the gate to the Labyrinth Dimension were not spared.


    One of such stars was even their current battleground, slashes of sword and downward strikes of scythe cut off large parts of the blue dwarf chromosphere while living darkness drilled straight through the multiple layers up to the solar core and far beyond before coming back to their target creating massive tunnels that couldn''t be closed, the laws of reality unable to subsist after their passage.


    Then the star began to collapse on itself, the damage too large for it to sustain its existence any further, and heat and pressure built up to an extreme point.


    Yet it did not affect them in any meaningful way and the collateral damage of their attack continued to ravage its existence further up to the point it couldn''t hold anymore and exploded in a fiery hell blinding the battlefield for a moment, the damage it should have caused largely muffled by shields of many origin but the one clause didn''t survive.


    Blades against blades Khaine continued, the death of the star barely worth a glance as he struck true more and more, the result of his assault in the form of deep fleshy wounds that did not mend just as the wounds brought by Hoopa''s barrage of both physical and ranged attack.


    The reason was simple, the living metal that made the Nightbringer''s body could not purge all the aetheric energy that sipped in with each blow faster than it was purged, and so little by little both psychic essences began to cause the Necrodermis to break and crack, the lines forming burning with green, black and red.


    Yet, and yet¡­ Aza''gorod did not show fear, nor did he show worry or any kind of negative reaction to his rapidly approaching end. Not even anger, in fact, the more the battle went on, the more his warriors were destroyed and the force of the Old Ones progressed onward.


    -Hoopa, Khaine my children, trap this abominable creature in place so that the Canon of the World Song will be fired upon it. Fear not for no mortal damage shall befall you.-, the voice of Cthylla reached the two minds leading to an instant shift in how they acted.


    ''Fucking bitch¡­ I know they can regrow or be regrown. It''s going to hurt but not worse than what she did after she fucked me over however¡­'', Hoopa thought with a snarl and clenched jaws his presence granting true death to all Daemons that were unlike enough or stupid enough to approach him.


    The order forced him to act against his will and so he brought forth his three pairs of hands pulsing with his dark psychic presence and grabbed the battered C''tan by the forearms, neck, and ankles holding with enough force to crush the strongest of metal.


    The dark aetheric energy, and their very nature cause the Necrodemis to sizzle on contact. It created a paste-like substance that acted like glue, his telekinetic grasp brought to its strongest only increasing his hold on the Necron God.


    Simultaneously thorny blazing brass chains exploded from Khaine''s chest plate, they perforated and entangled themselves to the C''tan chest, abdomen, and legs, resulting in the Aeldari God chain himself while doing so, his belief in his Mother unwavering as he was ready to die for her at any moment.


    It was within his very existence, after all, it mattered little if he was self-aware he was a very specialized and powerful tool, just like the entire Aeldari race. He wasn''t infuriated about Hoopa''s feelings about their Mother for that reason too, she was perfect in her craft and reason must be behind such a feature of his being.


    A light akin to the brightest of stars bathed the battlefield in its kaleidoscopic lights, Daemons and Neverborns shrieked in agony, Aeladari felt their wounds mend and weary mind settle, and Krork screamed in triumph, their massive muscular green-skinned body behind power armor trimming with the power of their psychic gestalt.


    The collective of Blackstone Fortresses in the very far distance had lit up, their esoteric organic metal shifting into the shape of a flower reassembling that of a hybrid between an orchid and a lotus flower.


    Pure psychic energy flowed through matrixes of runes and complex aetheric technology that made its petals as the will of the Great Old One Cthylla spread far and wide, the Cannon of the World Song, the stigma and heart of the flower under her control in the process of accumulating and harnessing the power of the Universe in a singular beam.


    "Any last words that may be in your decadent mind to share before your destruction, star parasite?", Khaine said with a calm fury as he tightened his chains, digging them deeper into the Necrodermis body of his interlocutor whose smile had never been this wide.


    "FUC-", Hoopa''s voice full of realization exploded outward just as the words of the Nightbringer deafening it echoed in a megalomaniac cackle, "My little diviner is due for a reward!"


    Then Aza''gorod''s flagship, the Bringer of Darkness without fanfare or bright light or any distinction emitted an omnidirectional wave of conceptual repulsive nothingness, enforcing the strict laws of Realspace and banishing all that violated them.

 9. Breaking Point

    Orikan the Diviner observed with his green cyclopean eye from deep within the confines of the Bringer of Darkness the battlefield unfolds in its every layer, from past, present, and future in all their alternate possibilities all at once.


    The Necron Crypyek''s focus was on a grand party on one individual that he could only gaze through the lens of the present and very blurry through the immutable past that was made by his action for this creature was not of this Universe.


    Time manipulation was of little to no use against this utterly alien being on any personal level, this wasn''t an unseen case far from it. C''tan and other vastly powerful entities had similar innate resistance to it or had countermeasures against this obvious weakness but both didn''t, couldn''t grant this degree of protection. If that could even be called that.


    The Anomaly''s alien nature to the Universe made it so there was nothing to protect in terms of belonging to the various chaotic timelines, what doesn''t exist can''t be attacked, targeted, or manipulated, at least that''s how Orikan understood it. This being acted like its own mini reality with its own rule, one that dabbled in both Realspace and the Seas of Souls and beyond.


    ''Fascinating creature but his action¡­ Kindness is truly the greatest of sin, in its purest form mixed with hints of despair and arrogance in particular. No matter the individual be it, the Silent King, Revelation, or him¡­ The Magician, those three actions born out of empathy always result in the most deplorable outcomes. Ironic truly.'', Orikan revised the Anomaly''s first action, comparing it to others of which one would not be born for more than half a hundred million years.


    Tapping his staff on the Necrodermis ground his focus switched back to the battlefield where he directed it all with the hundreds of other powerful Necron Overlords and Crypteks within the fleets. Messages of extensive and complex knowledge flowed at speed beyond relativity and immense quantity as together they stalemated the fight as best as they could.


    Their goal was not to win in that current condition, the likelihood of something like this becoming a reality was abysmal to begin with. The goal was to stall time, no matter the damage received both materially speaking and to their pride and honor, though it wasn''t like they had a say in the matter.


    Still, they were having great difficulty doing so, nevertheless not completely losing terrain from the force under the direct command of the Aeldari God of Art, Creativity, and Trickery and multiple Old Ones.


    The terrain played an important role in why their force was buckling under their enemy''s heel but not only that, Cegorath outpaced anything that they could come up too far before they even could think of it.


    The big three, Hoopa, Khaine, and Aza''gorod fighting and destroying both camps as collateral damage with the Necron causing the worst leading to the battle constantly shifting into an utterly incalculable mess didn''t help in the matter.


    As such it was not in Orikan''s power to change the course of such a fight, not even his true lord, Imotekh the Stormlord, Phareon of the Sautekh Dynasty would have fared any better. It was unfair, even without any disadvantage fighting against such enemies without the C''tan or highly powerful and dangerous weapons often ended in the best circumstance as a pyrrhic victory.


    The Aeldari Gods without exception were what Orikan and his fellow Necron of similar sapience might call an utter pain in their metallic rump. Cegorach the Laughing God was the worst offender of all, a close second was Isha the Merciful Mother, Aeldari Goddess of Fertility, Love, and Life, both playing almost fully supportive roles.


    The Laughing God made entire battlefields his board game to play upon all while amusing himself at their failure while the Everqueen revived and granted her ally immortality and brought great and unstoppable ailment upon their undying body of Necrodermis that would eat the living metal but also permanently damage their minds and technology.


    Neither were the strongest psychic constructs of the Old Ones, far from it and by themselves not that much of a true powerhouse but they never were by themselves. In any case, the presence of Cegorach mattered little, at least to Orikan for he had calculated every minute details and outcomes from this surprise attack they had made on the Great Old One Cthylla.


    Still skilled as he may be as an astronomancer, errors were inevitable, particularly at the moment but it was a bargain he was ready to make for his goals to be realized. If he failed then so be it but either outcome would not change that his survival was assured.


    "Hmm¡­ It seems the time is coming. Aza''gorod has stalled long enough for the Obelisk to have charged¡­", he mumbled under his nonexistent breath as he observed one of the enslaved is of his people, a being that was a God of Realspace on the verge of being shattered by Hoopa and Khaine as the two had trapped him and the Blackstone Fortresses was ready to fire.


    It was a very amusing sight that was certain, at this very instant he would love to see this aberrant abomination be turned into billions of mindless fragments and suffer for the rest of eternity across the cosmos. But his needs were not important compared to the needs of his plans.


    Plans that would affect the fate of the Milky Way and the incomprehensible amount of lives that would be changed by simple cause and effect but those were a second thought, they were not of the Necron after all. It was for his people he was doing this, to fix mistakes that shouldn''t have been if he had been listened to.


    Sighing out of a habitude from his mortal day Orikan turned around to gaze at the Null Obelisk, a massive pillar that was dozens of kilometers in length, it absorbed in its totality all manner of light and other types of vibration leaving it both impossible to perceive and the most evident part of this room.


    It was a creation of Mag''ladroth the Dragon, the most powerful and second most intelligent of C''tan. It was mostly composed of Blackstone, the same material of which the Old Ones mobile mega fortresses were made, and it used those very same psychic properties that made those esoteric structures so powerful but it used its property in reverse.


    It was one if not the most important piece of technology of the Infinite Empire, far higher than the Celestial Orrery and other exceptionally more potent tools, and this for one simple reason¡­ It was within its name, it was a nullifier.


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    And it nullified one thing in particular, their one and true weakness within the local reality, instilling the strict laws of Realspace and them only, everything else banished, suppressed, or annulled.


    This Null Obelisk aboard was unique compared to others, normally they were placed on ''immobile'' celestial bodies due to several limitations such pillars held in how they operated. It was modified to fit here and something never seen before.


    And so when Orikan activated it the battlefield changed in its entirety. One single button was pressed and formless unseen waves began to be emitted from the Null Obelisk as toxic green runic symbols lit up, a soft and constant humm reached his sensors and the spectacle began.


    Those waves of conceptual repulsive nothingness swiped through the battlefield and far beyond at unprecedented velocity, their effect instantaneous and devastating, psychic energy in all its form was swiped away like a weak sand castle on a beach before the unstoppable force of the crashing waves.


    The Labyrinth Dimension and the Sea of Souls were the first to be affected the bridges of light evaporated just as the gash pouring out malevolent Neverborn did like a flowing curtain the void of space and the stars within in the distance took their place and the rules of Realspace hammered themselves trues.


    Daemons and Neverborns were banished and annihilated if two close while in the same instant aetheric technology broke apart or failed with almost no faults, it was the fates of untold Cruisers such as the Aldeari as the material that made them mostly Wraithbone, a hyper-advanced psycho-plastic material.


    Their body armor fared no better as it was also made of the same solidified psychic polymer creating many holes for which the void could take advantage, but the most affected was the cluster of Blackstone Fortress that was violently stopped during the critical moment of their firing protocol.


    But there was no cataclysmic explosion, the fuel for it having been banished from this plane of reality and the design itself stopping such possibilities. Instead, the flower-shaped cannon crumbled on itself while the Fortresses outer defenses dissipated yet the mega structures held on by the sheer ingenuity in their built design the Blackstones that made them.


    Though¡­ On the front line, the sudden malfunction of the vast majority of psychic races'' technology led to untold deaths, the disappearance of any footing and a far more dangerous environment only increased the death toll, but both combined could not rival the sudden disappearance of any psychic energy.


    The Krork were the ones who suffered the most, their gestalt field giving them the ability to bend reality with their minds was crushed causing instant devastating feedback in the form of billions of heads popping like balloons within their helmet. Their number divided by thousands as billions died not understanding what had even happened.


    The second most affected were the much less numerous but far more devastating Aeldari, their connection to the Sea of Souls d made to be only second to their Creator was ripped away from them, their souls, their powers, their very essence vanishing in an instant leading to much like their greener cousin to mass death within their ranks.


    And this fate was shared by many of the Young Race and it was only the beginning, their enemy of living metal would not be wasting time decimating the remaining lives.


    Billions died and far more will follow as panic and despair spread within this field forcing Realspace and denying life itself for it was the source of psychic energy.


    "Ahh¡­ How does it feel to have your being stripped away? Observe how much death and despair it brings on the weak and unworthy! Can''t you see the entrancing beauty within my salvation?", Aza''gorod said with a contemptuous smile as he shattered all chains around his body, swatted the six three-clawed hands away, and purged all of the psychic energy that had slipped in him¡­ However one remained, one alien and of pure darkness that stopped all potential healing even from others'' damages but he didn''t truly care for such parlor tricks at the moment.


    Why worry about such trivial matters and sour his mood? He could have fun and take care of this later.


    The only answer to his word was a massive serrated bronze sword from the Aeldari God of War moving toward his neck alas it was not to hit for the C''tan was shackled no more while his adversary was greatly weakened by the nullifying field and less than in full shape for even the battle of before not been without energy expanse.


    "Pathetic, truly but befitting of a creature of your standing, a sluggish prey animal unable to gauge its own meager capacity in front of a predator. Even your blade has become limp, the fire all but fragmented memories.", the C''tan said, his smile turning deranged as he infinitely increased the distance of Khaine''s assault from home to the point it looked frozen in time.


    Then with a lazy swipe of his scythe cut the offending hand of the Aeldari God that held the blade. Golden fiery ichor spurted out in abandon but the newly amputee only growled with primal rage and glared with a fury never seen before as he charged again, his hand shaping itself of blood while the blade came back.


    The sight snapped Hoopa who had been flung back here by force out of the Sea of Souls. The sudden snip in his connection to this dimension of primordial emotion and all that was psychic had shocked him to his core, he felt violated, and it felt wrong on such a fundamental level.


    Half of what he was became forbidden from him to access, shattering the delicate balance that was in his being but it wasn''t fatal or dangerous. It was like a flip was switched, the imbalance was not a problem only a stimulus that was to start a natural process built in his being to counteract such a weakness.


    But it came with secondary effects even if minor, it was extremely unpleasant and the powerful hold he had on his emotions weakened and that was enough to unclench a snowball reaction.


    The orders of Mother were never clearer in his mind as they aligned with what he was feeling as the most important being to destroy aside from her herself but with it came a pleasant realization¡­ He wouldn''t be able to hear her orders in those conditions, of course, it was obsolete information at this exact moment but it opened many doors.


    Dark energy hissed in contact with reality as it exploded outward from his form, so thick was it he became a living clock of shadow as his body bulked up to a point where he appeared fifty percent bigger. His eyes turned a bright purple almost red equal to two stars while his six claws hand popped off their respective socket and with a piercing roar fueled with a desire for destruction, he rushed in.


    However Hoopa had not become a mindless beast, at most he became less emotionally stable, it was simply that there was no holding back anymore as doing so would prove fatal since he wasn''t authorized to run away, and at this point, he didn''t care about the consequences, there was a time for everything and it wasn''t now. Most of his ''hindrances'' aka ''allies'' were dead anyway.


    "The little coward is joining again, how wonderful!", the Necron God of Death exclaimed with eyes smile as he flicked his scythe and effortlessly cut Khaine''s other hand all the while grabbing the incoming punch with his free not caring much for his skin melting or the waves of destruction behind on his fleet or even the two other shadowy fists coming straight at him.


    He merrily crushed the disembodied hand between his fingers into paste leading to a howl of agony from the owner that he savored as pure dark blood, ivory-white bone carved in runes and crimson-red flesh floated in the void before getting absorbed by the portal of a golden ring from which they came from.


    His wide smile showing needle-like teeth however vanished as hundreds of alerts directly from his flagship pingged his mind, alert he found very, very, very displeasing. The Null Obelisk was being attacked by Hoopa through punches with his rings, hammering it ceaselessly, immediately weakening the anti-psychic field, each hit weakening it further and further as cracks formed and grew.


    This wasn''t the danger it represented for him if it were to be broken that caused the displeasure. In the C''tan''s twisted mind, the source of the displeasure was something far more infantile and as such far more dangerous, it was his property that was being damaged, one of his most precious toys was getting destroyed, and worse of all¡­ It was not him making it so.


    "HOW DARE YOU HARM WHAT IS MINE!", Aza''gorod roared in outrage, space and time breaking as all sadistic playfulness vanished from his Necrodermis body.


    The rusted blade of his scythe tripled in size, glowing an intense negative grey far more potent than ever before then it moved at a speed that ignored relativity to grant the gift of death.


    "DODGE!", Hoopa screamed, his voice twisted and demonic in his current state traveling through the void as no mere sound waves reached Khaine whose only reaction was a widening of his orange fiery eyes at the approaching grey curved blade.


    The Aeldari God didn''t dodge, couldn''t have hoped of even doing so, he was too close, too slow, too unprepared, and too weakened. The incoming blade reached its target, cutting through one of his armored shoulders, and continued behind his bronze codpiece until he was fully dissected leaving behind a grey corrupting aura of death as the two bisected parts parted away stopping esoteric organs from spilling out.


    Yet before the second swipe of scythe befell the injured deity two shadowy hands appearing from the portal grabbed both halves, melting the bronze armor as they dragged the two parts back where they came from denying the C''tan his rightful prize as the downward strike split but the void of space.


    If before he was irritated and even angry, this¡­ This was the breaking point for the Nightbringer.


    He didn''t want to play anymore, he didn''t want to grant his future toys the most exquisite form of agony, and he didn''t want to make them his playthings for all of eternity. All of this evaporated as all but one thing came for him to desire, their death and the first who would have the honor of receiving it was the Anomaly, the source of so much dissatisfaction.

 10. Deaths Reaper

    ''Shit.'', Hoopa internally cursed as he became the sole focus of Aza''gorod, this was not ideal, adding the pain from his mostly healed hand raw in his mind and something he didn''t want to experience again.


    But what he wanted wasn''t what he was going to get, at least he managed to bring Khaine to Cthylla for her to hopefully take care of him as the Aeldari God of War had for all intent and purpose been eliminated, bisection tended to do that, particularly when at such level both physical and metaphysical.


    He didn''t know if it was a fatal injury but in any case, Khaine had become more of a hindrance than anything else in the fight with the banishment of all that was psychics. He was and would have been an even greater distraction with the possibility of being used as a hostage or most likely one being turned into a meat shield. The Bloody-Handed God had become an exploitable weakness, a weak link as wrong as it sounded.


    In the end, Hoopa was still only a newborn fresh out of his egg, and even if his mind had been twisted beyond humanity he was not a megalomaniac monster with no care for life, and saving what was equivalent to at least an equal could but be beneficial. At least that''s what he had in mind, Khaine was not the most amiable of people but a favor from what was a prideful warrior of immense might would prove useful.


    ''Fuck this is bad!'', he cursed again with an animalistic growl glaring at the incoming Star God through senses that let him feel the tapestry of the Universe, and his eyes widened, the golden ring-like outermost part of his iris thinning as he sensed reality to be bent, the millions of kilometers separating the two of them became but naught.


    Yet Hoopa had already predicted he was going to be the immediate next target to be killed, it was obvious and as such he was already two-thirds through the ring he invoked behind him and had five more to create a protective cocoon all around.


    But he had made several mistakes that were due to his lack of experience and knowledge of the full capacity of the being he was fighting as such he had underestimated the speed with which he was going to be reached and that he wasn''t the only one able to slip through time and space, even if in this case it was vulgar in how it was done and extensively worse than what he could do.


    Still, it meant it wasn''t going to go as he desired when his head and most of his torso and abdomen had passed through the liquid-like constellated surface of the portal. He understood that he was going to be in a world of hurt but he wasn''t going to not fight back.


    As the blade of the scythe draped in a negative grey eldritch energy swiped down upon his lower half with only defense the dense veil of darkness around him that thickened immensely.


    Then it exploded outward at the contact with the scythe, the darkness enveloping both weapon and wielder, the deathly energy of the blade dimmed, and the tattered cloak was burned to nothingness burning the tattered cloak to nothingness and causing deep burns within the cracked Necrodermis skin leading to further and deeper cracks


    Aza''gorod felt agony, but it was not the first time in his existence he felt what he loved to inflict upon others'' life form, pain, how could he not? He was the one who both giveth and taketh this aspect of life before its inevitable end, being foreign to it would make his acts sloppy as he wouldn''t understand how to inflict it and he had fought to become this strong, pain was as inevitable as death.


    But this one, it wasn''t like the one he had ever felt or seen in his existence, it wasn''t like the one he felt as his essence within this body of living metal had been disturbed to the point it would have shattered out of decohesion if the Null Pillar wasn''t activated and the Blackstone Fortresses had fire¡­ It wasn''t one he remembered his weaker fellow C''tan felt when they were devoured by him or others.


    No¡­ It was far deeper, it was the result of an attack on the very existence of his essences on a conceptual level, it was an attack on Death itself, it was small barely a fractal of a fractal but little by little it progressed, and the implication of such a thing were far too clear even in his state of mind.


    This substance alien to this Universe had the potential to grant true death to him and his fellow Star Gods. Until now this anomalous energy had just not been in enough concentration to show its true power, he understood at this instant how deep was the madness of the Old Ones.


    At this moment the Necron God of Death felt the first few inklings of fear, a foreign feeling he found he abhorred, this only fueled his raging emotion to burn stronger and brighter than ever. But this changed little to what Aza''gorod''s goal was, it only added reason to press on further and weed the inexperienced seedling before it turned into a tree and then a forest.


    The blade became brighter fighting against the darkness and it connected to the body of the Anomaly¡­


    Like ripe wheat upon the field in the harvest season the rusted yet sharpened edge of the blade cuts with ease through the right side of Hoopa''s hip, from the purple fur to the grey skin, followed together by muscles, nerves, veins, bones, and organs as it continued on its course until the blade was out and half of the lower abdomen and a more were separated.


    But these injuries were used by Hoopa like a lizard losing its tail by autotomy and escaping within rock crevices, forbidding its predator its meal, the Nightbringer his rightful prize as he vanished into his portal, causing the C''tan rage to reach new heights and a primal howl of fury escaped his throat.


    "YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATE ANO-", Aza''gorod''s scream was violently interrupted by those body parts that as a twisted parting gift detonated into an ocean of corroding darkness that caused him further agony¡­ And rage as the darkness slipped further within like the deadliest of poison but it would take far more to be a threat.


    "Fuck my legs, fuck my tail! Fuck this shit, fuck this war and fuck him, and fuck the bitch that destroyed my life!", Hoopa screamed, appearing within the empty and scattered command room of the Bringer of Darkness, oddly nothing was attacking him.


    Rhythmic tremors spread within every level of the moon-sized Cruiser making it shake violently, Necrodermis and complex machinery fell to the ground the ones on their way to him melting in the exponentially increasing dark aura around his massive form increasing the damage his punch was making on the Null Obelisk and the reason of his surrounding current less than pristine state.


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    He never stopped attacking this master-crafted structure, his six hands teleporting around with rings, leaving an innumerable amount of massive deep spider webs cracks wherever they appeared.


    The dark anomalous energy they were imprinted with melted and infiltrated everything they hit, spreading like a mold within what was once the carefully carved structure and this from its two extremities as no points of its surface were spared. Weakening the nullifying field further and further to the point the Sea of Souls began to come, droplets by droplets.


    It truly showed the advantage of disseminated controllable limbs by a method of levitation not fully based on psychic energy letting him move freely in this psychically barren environment, how it worked exactly Hoopa couldn''t care less at the moment but from the little he observed it seemed to be a mix of primarily gravity and magnetism.


    Nothing could break his focus, nothing would stop him from attaining his objective. Nothing. Not even his emotions, and even less the agonizing pain and disturbing feeling born from his mutilated lower half from which his ebony black blood was dripping by the hundred of litter on the cold metallic melting it and his guts not spilling out further by the combined force of the regenerative capability of his body and instinctual flexes of internal muscles to keep it all inside.


    Then as his jaws opened to a point it appeared to be unhinged as he prepared to use them as a focus to fire a beam of purely destructive energy time folded right in front of him and something manifested.


    It was a small dark grey sarcophagus with on its front green light in the shape of tel circles connecting via straight while being encapsulated by two half circles themselves connected with others lines. It vaguely reminded Hoopa of crop circles but he also recognized it from the knowledge forced down his mind by Chtylla as the insignia of the Sautekh Dynasty, one of the Infinite Empire''s most powerful factions.


    His immediate response was to destroy this contraption but he stopped himself before doing so, if it was a trap or defense system it would have been fired off earlier which also reminded him that none did, just like all guards and any other Necron that were either absent or turned off.


    Clearly, he wasn''t the only one not working in his slaver''s best interest, as such he decided to take the risk and not destroy this object that popped out of a parallel time stream and showed all signs to be intended for him.


    By a flex of his will he opened a portal that sucked the miniature sarcophagus, this portal wad led to hundreds of millions of light-years away in the only location far enough from everything here he could think of within that instant, it was none other than an old blue planet third in orbit from its star, a yellow dwarf.


    On the end side of the ring, the Necron device fell right into a clay nest full of eggs it was equal in size to, it was the eggs of a young theropod and one of the largest land predators of its time, it was a female Tyrannosaurus rex and it was in for a surprise once it awakened from its sleep with the new ''egg'' in its clutch.


    This minor action didn''t interrupt any of Hoopa''s ongoing ones, it wasn''t even a distraction as such the next instant a compact sphere of pure darkness congregated from the infinite well they were from. Then with a clack of his jaws, the sphere compressed into a singularity the diameter of an electron, and with a low hum the pressure within reached a critical point and it turned into a hair-thin beam.


    It traveled and reached the Null Obelisk instantaneously, digging in a fault line made by earlier assault and traveling to the middle of the Blackstone megastructure, from this point the beam reflected against every deep fissure using them as a route leading to every corner of the massive pillar by Hoopa careful calculation.


    Calculation that came to fruition the next instant, there was too much trauma at once from every millimeter of the Null Obelisk for oy function properly any longer, nevertheless held itself into one solid then.


    And so like glass, it shattered with a strident sound, millions of unrecognizable fragments flying everywhere as the remnants of anomalous energy flew back to Hoopa whose face sported a maddening grin.


    It was like a floodgate had been opened, the torrential force of Sea of Soul reeled its head back upon the battlefield with unimaginable force feeling all that was starved of it gorged themselves in it, Hoopa the one most of all. But there was no relief for the battle had not ended.


    Then scattering his flagship into primordial particles with sheer speed and destructive aura came the Nightbringer, Aza''gorod, his Necrodermis body adorned with untold dark fissures holding together with difficulty.


    He howled in a ghoulish voice lacking in any complex thought behind but fury, agony, hate, and fear all brought to reality by one individual to which he was swiping his scythe down on his wide-open chest, "REPENT FOR YOUR GRIEVOUS OFFENSE IN MY EMBRACE ANOMALY!"


    ''Strong and fast but predictable¡­ A fucking animal with far too much power that what he is.'', Hoopa thought far calmer than before as balance slowly trickled down onto him but it wasn''t the only reason he was so tranquil.


    C''tan true powers were based on what concepts they were intricately part of giving them authority over it to a degree but how they could effectively use it in a meaningful way stemmed from their capacity to control Realspace in nearly whatever way they so desired, their only limits their only true limit their imagination which they greatly lacked in baring few unique cases. They were ironically very two dimensional in how they operated making them both more dangerous and the exact opposite.


    And so Hoopa didn''t even try to dodge instead six of his rings manifest all around the Necron God of Death, then he did something he instinctively understood would have cataclysmic results. Something he wouldn''t have done before with the number of deaths it would have caused within the Young Race


    He opened the gates between the Real and Unreal, the Causal and Paracausal, all that was and wasn''t mixed together as the Sea of Souls invaded Realspace in the form of incomprehensible chaotic waves of nonexistent color and shapes, accompanied by states of matter that shouldn''t exist and pure primordial emotions that warped reality itself to their most primal urge, hope, anger, lust, despair and many more.


    Aza''gorod staggered in his track taking the full brunt of it all, his body licked by pure chaotic esoteric energy furthering the damage as it infiltrated the many cracks that never healed. His howl only gained in intensity but it changed nothing, his mind unable to process anything aside from anger, hate, and despair leading to those very same emotions being siphoned in him creating a vicious self-destructive cycle.


    Hoopa with his body still embalmed in dark energy grabbed the scythe, the Scythe of the Grim Reaper, pushing his fully regained psychic energy into his flesh and bones he increased his strength manifold and managed with difficulty to forcefully yank the weapon out of the confounded Star God''s weakened grips.


    Wasting no time a ring appeared and the stolen weapon flew through the nightblue portal, its destination the only natural satellite of this same blue planet he sent the Necron apparatus instant ago for he still lacked any safe area to use as a vault.


    One of the six rings pumping out the Sea of Souls had its destination suddenly shift, the chaotic psychic energy flux stopping, the usual constellation-like pattern upon the portal switching to the point where all begins and where all will all end, the Well of Eternity. The Heart of the Universe and Womb of Reality and Unreality that birthed and will conclude time and space.


    "Farewell Aza''gorod, Nightbringer and Primordial Fear of all Life, may we never meet again in this life and all that will come after.", Hoopa said darkly, his eyes gleaming and darkness encroaching his form as he pushed more raw psychic energy from the deepest and oldest layer of the Sea of Souls onto the C''tan as well the rest of his psychic might.


    Then as the Nightbringer unable to resist slowly passed through the ring his dark void that had the purpose of eyes regained its clarity and what Hoopa saw would forever be ingrained in his mind, it was a terror so intense of magnitudes he never thought possible and this was a fear all sapient being held, the prospect of an inevitable end. The fear of death, a fear Aza''gorod had instilled and fed himself of, one he was the source of.


    Alas, it disappeared as soon as it appeared, if not for his memories of would have appeared to be a mirage born of the Well of Eternity swallowing the Necron God of Death in his entirety until nothing remained.


    Once Hoppa couldn''t feel the C''tan presence he closed all of his rings and stood still in the demolished command room. Unknown to him he wasn''t the only one to feel the disappearance, shock spread through all other Star Gods as the new alien sensation of one of their most powerful brethren had perished, turned back from where he was from.


    ''I have done it¡­ It''s finished¡­'', Hoopa thought, closing his eyes more out of relief than exhaustion as his wound mended faster with his psychic energy working on biomancy by instinct, a faint smile full of fangs formed yet he was not happy as a realization dawned on him.


    It was only the beginning.

 11. After the Battle

    The sound of massive doors of heavy stone scraping softly against the ground of similar material reached my ears prompting me to open my eyes ever so slightly at the one who had disturbed me from my work.


    Not that I cared, truly, multitasking was an innate capacity in this body of mine and one quanta of my mind focusing on this terrified little creature was not worth any negative reaction on my part. Having my attention split was natural, and I was not quick to anger at least when there was no reason and neither was I too prideful. At least I hoped.


    The little creature in question was an elve, or how in this world they were called Aeldari, arguably the most powerful of the Young Races behind the Krork the lizard bitch made even if from what I learned they existed before in the form of a weaker species that was ''blessed'' by her and risen to ''greatness''. Much like me even if distinctively different since it''s more about taking DNA samples and creating GMOs and making vat-grown soldiers than whatever horror she did to me.


    Genetically engineered hyper-emotional super psychic war slave races aside, the Aeldari that had come to me was a woman far older than me by quite a few centuries using Earth-Sun rotation but she looked no more than twenty, younger even. She was small compared to me, the equivalent of an action figurine but for a human, she would be a good four heads taller than the average I recalled.


    Speaking of humans, she resembled my old species but there were stark differences that made them appear uncanny to the minuscule human part remaining alive in me¡­ But I admit that was hypocritical with what I was, the uncanny one was me here.


    This aside for all intent and purpose, both sexes of this species were beyond beautiful in appearance, body language, and speech and that was exactly this that made them this way but also their proportion, slender bodies, long thin but muscular limbs, and necks with a dozen more vertebrae. I truly wonder how a human would feel in contact with one of them but that was a question for the future when they evolved into existence.


    She was one of the many servants of this place I now resided in and more precisely one of the servants of the Gods residing in this palace, a maid of sorts. One capable of folding skyscrapers if she put her entire psychic might and life force in it but at this place and time, it was not great¡­ Not at all, it was not the worst but it was mediocre, even weak compared to many of her kind that I had briefly observed in my fight against Aza''gorod.


    Maybe it was a harsh judgment, maybe it wasn''t but that was the conclusion of my observation from a pure psychic potential standpoint but raw power wasn''t everything, and becoming a servant here required a certain level of credentials leagues above the average Aeldari. There was no need to be able to pop stars like bubbles to be considered dangerous, the Harlequins of Cegorath being a good example.


    As for this place¡­ It was a palace of ever-shifting nature in both size and shape with nine layers of similar nature, each possessing unique and incredible qualities. It was called the Celestian Enclave or as I prefer to call it the Dog House where I and my ''brothers'' and ''sisters'' were herded by the cowardly and overly arrogant toads that hid deeper into the Labyrinth Dimension with this place serving as a last wall of defense to give them the time to flee.


    At least that was from my understanding, and it truly put into perspective what our reason for existing was, to be both guard and attack dogs thereby why I call this admittedly magnificent place beyond mortal understanding in both appearance and ingenuity this way. A slave collar no matter how pretty to look at remains a slave collar.


    "My most sincere apology my Lord for disturbing your divine meditation upon the mysteries of the cosmos may you see my punishment as you see fit but I must inform you that the Merciful Mother requested your presence in the Chamber of Rejuvenescence.", Aelia her name said to me bowing deeply, a shake in her voice and body while dread oozed from her soul and mind. She hid it well but trying as she might hiding this from me was futile at best.


    ''If only she knew to whom she was apologizing and for what¡­'', I thought with a twisted chance of irony and amusement while on the outside I hummed in understanding causing her to flinch almost imperceptibly. My mere presence was deeply affecting her in a way similar to how a prey would in the face of a predator but on a far higher plane of existence.


    The thought of messing with her was present but short-lived as much as it would be amusing to see her lose her shit. Chances are she would just faint or die with a psychic backlash if I pushed a little too hard. The temptation, no instincts, to simply do so out of curiosity to observe all minute details of how it would happen was strong but I wasn''t so far gone to do that, but for how long? Problems for later, I suppose.


    Aeldari were fragile creatures though most of everything was compared to me, like a torch face to a star so it didn''t say much. And she wasn''t deserving of such fate.


    As to what she was informed of¡­ I knew with my powerful sense and basic guess why Aelia was here, my full access to her mind like the page of an open book only adding to it. I didn''t specifically have to put effort into entering, it was broadcasted by her as per the rules for servants like her.


    As she stepped aside with reverence in her every calculated movement I elevated myself off the velvet red meditation cushion I had been sitting on for the past few days. My cross-legged position with the soles of my feet touching each other remained the same as I rose meters above the ground.


    My six arms however had been out of their sheath and were moving while their rings by my will popped off and created portals as I put through them books, skin scrolls, jade slips, clay tablets, and even tablet-like devices back where they belonged.


    All of those contained the knowledge from many civilizations both forgotten and alive about magic, mysticism, psychic power, empyrean energy, or hundreds of other designations that signified the same things: the study, danger, and uses of esoteric energy.


    An energy that was the product of emotions, thoughts, ideas, knowledge, wills, desires, wishes, dreams, nightmares, beliefs, and even actions from every soul-bearing creature leaking into this mirror dimension of unreality and impossibility, the Sea of Souls. One of its many names. Though this was a rule of thumb and some exceptions in special cases existed, like always.


    It was fascinating, my mind giddy and body trimming with joy as a simple act of seeing how vastly different species interacted with this dimension of emotions. From runes, spells, rituals, and more of all kinds, all flowed in my mind as I studied, saw flaws, points in commons, ingenious methods, and cataloged to alter them in ways that fit in what was needed for me.


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    But it was more to see how others did it and have general frames of work. I didn''t need that to do ''magic'', it was like breathing, a second nature but it helped and gave ideas nonetheless. Ideas that I had aplenty with what remained of my memories and simple imagination.


    Alas, this was nothing compared to the ocean of knowledge and wisdom the Old Ones had but I was forbidden from, to my great displeasure, both the gatekeeping of invaluable knowledge and the act of stealing itself and also to piss those toads off and satisfy that hitch to collect and steal that I had.


    Though to begin with I hypothesized their knowledge in its vast majority was on only one medium, their minds. It will only make sense with such egomaniac and paranoid fuckers to not leave anything of worth behind but I suppose that was an adequate fate for them. To be forgotten by all, passing notes in history, a bad memory.


    All things sorted out I sheathed five hands back to my torso and opened a large portal with the last in the space made by the wide open door. Breathing softly I moved through my portal and ended from the Fifth Layer and Ninth Layer where my chamber was in both places to the Seventh Layer and precisely at the exact location that the Aelia spoke of.


    "My salutation Isha.", I said amiably opening my eyes fully as I observed the Merciful Mother slowly stand up from her praying position and turn to me, her pupilless eyes composed of innumerable stars landed on me while the flow of tears of starlight never ceased only to disperse in misty flickers of stardust once on the point of touching the pure white robe of leaves, petals, roots and thorn that wrapped her body and morphed with the ground.


    She was a third of my size and aside from her eyes, she was very Aeldari-like if on a spectrum of aesthetic far beyond them, flowing golden air and long pointed ears with all the flowery jazz on feminine beauty after. Though this Aeldari-likeness of hers was something unique and not seen to this extent on any of my ''brethren''.


    I was different from them on a fundamental level but there were similarities and ultimately it was interesting to see how they differed more or less from the species that worshiped them and how said worship affected them from the original design of the lizard bitch.


    "I offer my greeting as well Hoopa.", she said softly with a warm but weary smile then she continued, "I wanted to inform you before all other of our brother''s current states, I deem with what you did you should be the first to see."


    "Thank you, though wouldn''t it displease a number of our brethren? Not that I worry but this could be an annoyance to you more than anyone.", I said with a tilt of the head as I followed her deeper into the Chamber of Rejuvensnace, the picturesque garden a pleasant sight but not more than the array of runes flowing in every millimeter of its multifaceted surface.


    "Ah it nearly slipped from my understanding how young you are and the lack of context you must have, my most sincere apology. Explaining would be tedious but what I can say is that you greatly underestimate how infamous Khaine is. He is¡­ He is not the most appreciated within our family, even by me I must shamefully admit and it''s his wish to see you first once he awakens. Your worries are deeply appreciated but unfounded, Hoopa.", she finished with a gentle smile that I was sure would kill by heart attacks of many morta-of many.


    ''No soap opera with prissy and prideful Gods, that''s good. And he wants to see me heh?'', I thought briefly over what she said as we arrived at a massive burgeon-like structure connected to organic cable from which I could feel a very familiar psychic presence.


    Isha clapped her hands softly, a ring of bells echoed, and the contraption of magnificently grown Wraithbone, vegetation, and delicate arcane bloomed open like a flower, fourteen lines formed before slipping into seven pink petals.


    The smell of blood, ash, and death permeated the room, overpowering the scent of moist dirt after a drizzle and the floral fragrance of lilac in spring as the mist that had been produced by the flower was washed away by an unnatural air of rage and bloodlust revealing the form of the one that had been within.


    Held by vibrant green and flowering vines was the Bloody Handed God, Khaine''s body of bronze and fire back in one piece his form back as I recalled but he didn''t go unscattered. A faint line of lighter color than the surroundings remained where he had been bisected, though it wasn''t this aesthetic change that picked my interest.


    He was weaker but not by a large amount and he was still recovering, but it was something else deep in his psychically constructed body, at his very origin. It was¡­ How to put it polluted on a level it had become inseparable.


    Polluted, tainted, cancerous, no matter the wording it was how it felt, the sequel of an affliction, or injuries or both that cannot and will never be healed. Forever leaving a scar behind and the cause of it from the one that tried to kill me after my birth.


    "You feel it, this festering infection of malevolence?", she asked, shifting closer, a hand trailing centimeter above a portion of the scar.


    "Yes, it''s foul.", I answered simply while studying the polluted area, a slight frown setting itself on my face at the information I gained. It couldn''t be healed, it wasn''t like a dormant cancer but in every five cells, it couldn''t be removed either without killing or reducing Khaine to a shell of his former shell until only shards remained.


    "Mother and I have quelled it to night nonexistence but it remained, clinging no matter what we did. It rooted itself intricately with Khaine''s very essence, becoming a parasite ready to plunge its claws deeper at any opportune moment. If it wasn''t for your immediate action I-I don''t know if he would have made it¡­", she said confirming my hypothesis, the trickles of tears gaining in intensity as guilt hummed from her.


    My answer was in the form of friendly pats on her back, as my focus switched back on our fake sleeping audience which was none other than the one we were speaking of. Feeling my intentions his eyes snapped open revealing two fiery stars of many emotions but when they landed on me I saw a hint of not only recognition but thankfulness.


    Thought that''s all I got from the Aledari God of War as he immediately asked in a tone filled with fury and a want to kill so thick it manifested in a fiery ash around him, "Did you make the star parasite suffer?"


    "That''s¡­ Giving a definite answer to this question in particular will be complicated but he felt true despair only death could grant during his final plunge into the Well of Eternity.", I said, feeling the rising annoyance and disappointment at the beginning of my explanation from Khaine turned to shock, stupefaction and disbelief to ultimately after acceptance shift to sadistic joy.


    However I wanted to truly show it, mere words could barely begin to explain it, the sheer rawness of it all and so I did something taking inspiration from a world about witches and wizards I couldn''t grasp the name of. I flicked a black claw against my temple.


    Spinning the clawed finger three times counterclockwise a wispy white cloud came out from my memories, proposition to Isha first she politely refused it likely having a hint as to what I was going to do. This type of magic, even if done this way, was very unlikely to be foreign to her in concept.


    Khaine however accepted it and the plucked memories of my last moment with Aza''gorod the Nightbribger flew straight to his head, they were unedited and gave everything I experienced for those brief seconds. He would have known if I fiddled with them, that I was sure of it.


    A bloodthirsty grin of dagger-like teeth split the portion his helmet didn''t hide off his face, it was followed by a maniacal laugh so powerful and intense it shook the surrounding garden only holding thanks to Isha, her expression neutral to the point of exasperation. It was full of sadistic joy and hate.


    I knew they had a history and hated each other but this reaction was far more intense than I had anticipated. Maybe to check later on it was a good idea, and not from texts written by Aeldari, they tended to be factual but very loosely, and it left the reader a bit too much freedom for interpretation. Not that I blame them, words could only say so much and they were¡­ Quite spiritual and tedious in their practice of theology.


    Khaine''s laugh came to an end and as it did his face shifted to one of rest, his eyes then moved and stared into my own, from them and his psychic aura I could respect but deeply hidden there was fear yet it seemed to only fuel the former and a rising competitiveness.


    Without so much of a word he nodded at me and with a swipe of his flaming sword the Widowmaker that had suddenly materialized in his, he used one of the Enclave functions to open a tear in space leading to his chamber in the Height Layer. And with a last gaze, he walked through the portal that fizzled away the next instant.


    My eyes suddenly narrowed and I glared in one direction before feeling the gaze change direction.


    ''Asuryan the Phoenix King and Godking of the Aeldari Gods, and God of Wisdom, Authority, and Fire or more accurately the lizard bitch most obedient pet.'', I thought with irritation before saying a hasty but courteous goodbye to a confused Isha and teleporting back to my quarter.


    Cold as it was I had more important matters to attend such as working on ending my status as a slave.

 12. Nature of Oneself

    I flicked another finger and telekinetically brought pastries of many shapes, textures, and flavors to my mouth before getting by the fangs contained within as I hummed in contentment.


    I didn''t even need to eat to sustain myself, but why stop myself from this simple pleasure of life? More so when I have likely the best cooks within the Milky Way at my beck and call.


    My situation was terrible, horrifying to the highest degree, I had been ripped away from my life, turned into a living weapon, and enslaved to fight but that won''t stop me from enjoying life at every opportunity.


    I wasn''t going to make myself miserable on purpose, why destroy my mental health further? What would be the point of fighting for my freedom if I can''t appreciate it after? Though I suppose this was only possible ''thanks'' to my nature, the mere thought of being in any kind of way depressive or mentally deficient was irking my instincts to the highest level.


    ''The donuts glazed with this sugary crystal with the chocolate-like fillings are the best.'', I dutifully noted while displeasure straining my monstrous feature at the realization there wasn''t more of this type, the rest of the pastries followed soon after in my gullet.


    To fix this crisis I emitted a pulse of psychic energy from one of my hands and made a perfect physical copy of the ring-shaped heart attack of pure goodness and hundreds more by transmuting the molecules in the air into what I desired. I even heated them or cooled them up or down to have the perfect temperature and consistency.


    They were the same from one atom to another but for me, they tasted inferior but it was not the material aspect of things. It tied to something that would have been very silly to me in the past.


    It was the emotions put into making them, literally.


    Every pastry had been unconsciously lashed with a psychic signature of the passion and love of the artisans that baked them and this to replicate to near perfection would be several orders of magnitude harder.


    And even then, I wouldn''t be fooled, each living creature had its unique presence, and mimicking would only do that, someone sharp enough would notice it nevertheless me of all people. However, I still did it, it was a good exercise and a way to improve upon my craft. Practice makes perfect, talent was wasted without it.


    My sweet tooth aside, this ''psionic flavor enhancer'' was something all soul-bearing creatures did, gifted in the arcane or not, they all left psychic traces behind no matter how weak it might be.


    The only constant two exceptions I was sure of were;


    Cegorach, the Laughing God, but it was within his domains of authority and we weren''t on the same level of power. Oh, he was strong, very much so but in raw power the difference between us was incomparable.


    And the bearers of the ''Pariah genes'' or under another name the ones cursed-blessed with a ''psychically negative soul'' but they still left something behind, the total lack of psychic energy. But it didn''t make it hard to notice, the opposite to the point even individuals with no psychic potential would sense it in instants AND from far away. But it depended on strength and circumstance so the last points weren''t a universal truth, it was a generality.


    Ignoring these exceptions, these psychic remnants varied vastly depending on the circumstances and actions but also most importantly of all the intentions and intensity of the emotions and they could be felt, studied, and beyond. It would be possible to know the past of someone just from a fraction of their psychic trail, and it could go far. Postcognition was a fascinating branch with many terrifying uses.


    And I was not one of the exceptions, creatures of truly immense psychic power like me left this same trail but it was of incomparable potency and this was without taking into consideration the active psychic aura I passively emitted but actively damped to not drive insane or kill the ones of the Young Races by my mere presence.


    To put it simply, I was not discrete, I could hide from weaker lifeforms but that wouldn''t be foolproof by basic virtue of probability, nevertheless hiding from others even slightly in the range of my psychic might as long as they weren''t truly blind to the world around them. Or stupid, or overly arrogant which was the same¡­


    Becoming truly invisible was nigh impossible. In addition, Asuryan, the best lap dog, had his gaze on me most of the time, be it from jealousy, fear, the lizard bitch order, or the three combined if not more. It didn''t change that I was monitored and not only by him, I was a target of interest from many even if aside from psychic entities it was hard to keep track of me.


    But¡­ There was a major but, maybe I and others can feel the presence of one another no matter where and when, a general awareness of short yet our senses weren''t perfect, it depended on who of course but none were Omniscient no matter how hard some would cry in outrage about this statement.


    They weren''t as simple as that, none knew everything, if someone did then this someone would be playing in a league far above mine and everyone else here. These terms had meaning even if morta-fuck, less knowledgeable individuals would confuse the true meaning of such terms.


    My presence will always be traceable but what I did¡­ This was different as long as it was not massive or showy, change and action could be hidden, masked, or even


    a diversion could be used as a scapegoat to switch the focus. The three mixes were the best option and way to go.


    I ate one last donut as I snapped my taloned fingers, texts of many subjects related to the Sea of Souls in all of its forms were banished to where they belonged, some warped away by psychic power or flying through my rings depending on where they originated from. Regular teleportation was fast, very much so but it lacked distance and delicateness.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The Labyrinth Dimension was such a pivotal point for this same reason, mobility, and safety while moving in it. More or less. There was a reason my ability to create portals at will virtually anywhere at any distance was such a focal point of my power letting me do things no other could do no matter their capacity.


    Like other Aeldari Gods, even if I didn''t truly enter the neat little box for them, I had similar innate ''Authority'' over ''Domain'' or ''Concept'' on what I was designed to be strong at and focused on such as; ''Travel'', ''Magic'' and ''Darkness'', as vague as they were, the most direct being the first and even then. For example ''Travel'' meant many things, thinking I only could make portals to go from point A to point B would be inaccurate, it was the journey as well and more.


    As such even if those three domains at first seemed vastly unrelated¡­ It wasn''t the case at all, it was the opposite and in fact, represented me and my situation far too well for my liking on how I got here, what happened, and my future.


    The lizard bitch was very talented that I must admit. And the beginning of worship toward my person was likely something she had a play in even if it only accelerated the inevitable, it went very smoothly for a reason. I had been ''prophesied'' to be the new God that will bring victory.


    The Aeldari were calling me the God of Travel, Magic, and Darkness, or under another title, Hoopa the Archdjinni of the Rings, those were the two main ones repeated the most.


    I abhorred the former due to how arrogant it sounded and the latter was of my own doing with a little push here and there. Worship itself was a strange subject, one that was fascinating and felt like a slow refreshing trickle and I instinctively understood that with enough people for a sufficient time, it would make me stronger.


    But that would be a shaky source of power entirely dependent on many variables like numbers of worshipers, and I will need to be careful even if my anomalous nature and how I was built gave me natural resistance to all that was psychic, worship could and would change me. I had to guide this journey in the ways I deemed appropriate but also not fully rely on it.


    The most intense of my ''worshipers'' were the ones that were lucky to survive the battle between the Nightbringer, Khaine, and me which I guess makes sense¡­ I fought Death with their God of War, then saved the latter and killed the former. It''s hard to do a more impactful entrance, but it still didn''t truly hit what I had done. Or I was made too stoic.


    Other ''devouts'' were ones that I had saved and was currently saving by my actions on various battlefields since being comfy here didn''t stop me from intervening in various accord the cosmos, from lending personalized spells such as one that healed nearly all wounds by feeling intense sensations or emotions of any kind, regular teleportation via portals of friends and foes, or basic violence by pummeling the Necron force, mainly the destruction of those pillars that nullified all that was psychic. A technology I presumed was one of the main reasons I was made.


    They weren''t exclusively Aeldari either, the second largest were the Krork but it was for different reasons and mostly by their bigger number and ability to multiply themselves quite literally like mushrooms.


    The reasons were as follows; I was strong both in mind and body, my main physical attacks were big nasty punches, I was strong, I brought them to the best fight, I was strong, and most important of all I sported massive and sharp tusks, that was grossly what that two biggest of them, a pair of infighting twin, that told me before challenging me to a three-way duel and losing the second after by a slap to the back of their heads.


    They were an interesting bunch¡­ They weren''t dumb, quite the exact opposite they just were obsessed by violence and a desire to find the best fight possible and I could grant both at will. Frankly, I truly hoped the Old Ones had countermeasures that didn''t include omnicide when the war would end or there would be a big problem for the other Young Races.


    The bipedal dog-like people I had mutated trying to save them after having destroyed their civilization were also worshiping me, I suppose it was for the best even though my mistake was far too grave for it to be brushed off like that. I paid great attention to them and was ready to help them if it became critical, they deserve this much.


    -I will dive into the abyss of the Sea of Souls.-, I telepathically informed my godly ''brethren'', finishing all the pastries I flew through one of my golden loops not waiting for any affirmative answer or response from them but still acknowledging the response that came even if it was dissatisfaction for some.


    What I said was an affirmation if some weren''t happy then so be it. I don''t break any rules as long as I wasn''t caught and it wasn''t the first time I would be going in that place but compared to usual it wasn''t only to test spells, runes, and the likes.


    The Enclave had planet-sized rooms for this but they were fragile for me and a bit too open for my liking, of course, it was only a part of the reason. I had set this habit for today to not appear suspicious.


    It was a day I had been preparing for since collecting this small Necron sarcophagus-shaped device. It''s just that I needed knowledge and experience so nobody will know, at least nobody that had an interest in fucking up my plans by knowing it in advance, one word of it to the lizard bitch and I will be forbidden from continuing on this path.


    Her orders meant little if they weren''t precise and left too much uncertainty, that''s why I could try to do what I was going to do even if ''I should not betray the respectable one to which I am loyal''.


    Flowery language could stroke the ego of the speaker and listener but that was it, the Devil was in the details and not giving concrete orders was a critical mistake on her part. One funnily enough a human would have very likely not done, for all her greatness she was¡­ Naive and lacking in common sense and in bonus had enough arrogance to fill oceans and a hint of despair to spice things up.


    Either way, I wasn''t the only one with plans, by use of logic that is, Morei-Hag, the Crone, and Aeldari Goddess of Fate, must have been aware of what was going on but I couldn''t do anything about it in my current situation. And she seemed to work for her own best interests.


    That she hadn''t gone to ''Mother'' made me suppose what I was planning didn''t disturb her all that much, or it was something else, you can''t know for certain with people that can divine the future. I didn''t need experience with that to deduce this, it''s self-explanatory.


    Reappearing on the other side, all my senses were immediately assaulted by rolling, chaotic, and destructive waves of raw psychic energy that made this level of the Sea of Souls, a level that was encroaching on all others polluting them, spreading itself without stopping. The only solace was that some parts would be far worse than others. At this point, it wouldn''t be the Sea of Souls but a twisted, and warped abomination, the Warp would be an appropriate term.


    ''Every time I come here¡­ To think this place from the record once was peaceful¡­ It''s hard to believe it is anything but nonsense. How much did they fucked it up to end this way? And it''s only going to worsen like a cancerous tumor, a cancerous tumor upon reality.'', my musing on the change of Sea of Souls caused by the war was violently interrupted by one of its denizens, and it wasn''t a pretty one either, to say the least.


    It was a large multicolored misshapen scolopendra with three heads composed of sinew and maggots while its legs were composed of purple tongs covered in eyes that periodically opened into mouths filled with sharp teeth, the muscular bulbous tongs inside wiggling out them following the same pattern as the legs with every tong following the same pattern.


    "Do you truly desire to do this Quasarthul? If not, then go somewhere else, this place is vast and you are free to explore it.", I said with a part of its true name I could read straight from its essence with but a glance, the result immediate as the crawling horror fled as fast as its malformed body of emotions and concept let it do.


    "I''m a merciful man, and in a good mood, do not soil it by your presence. I will give you ten seconds before true death is granted.", I said my words calming the psychic torrent around and causing millions to flee far before the countdown reached zero. Once it did from my chest an omnidirectional pulse of darkness exploded, granting what I promised to all that were foolish enough to stay.


    Once this was done runes handcrafted by my psychic energy and dark blood began to write themselves forming a pentagram at my feet then they spread and by my will carved multilayered wards to limit what could get in and out to what I desired.


    It was a shield, one that used both my paradoxical sides. It would hide my actions but it wouldn''t hide my psychic presence, for that, I needed to cut off my connection to the Sea of Souls and purge all psychic energy and that would alert everyone and it would be¡­ Very, very unpleasant.


    After several more of such wards, I deemed it safe enough to continue, then a portal leading to my sanctuary, the Vault, a hidden pocket dimension cut off from everything with the only method of entry being through my rings. It was something I had made to store things of interest, from shiny objects to weapons of mass destruction. I couldn''t trash the Moon and Earth forever and putting my stuff in the open wasn''t the smartest thing too.


    It was pretty stupid and reckless that I did it to begin with but at the time I didn''t have the luxury to be pesky in where things needed to be placed. And that is one of such things from this day that I was taking out.


    "Let''s see what you have to tell me.", I said with a smile showing a fanged maw as I grabbed the sarcophagus-shaped device of Necrodermis with the Sautekh Dynasty heraldry etched and glowing green on its surface.

 13. Deal with the Devil

    "Let''s see what you have to tell me.", said pensively the Archdjinni of the Rings, carefully holding the Necron device within clawed fingers as if it was the most fragile and precious of jewelry.


    And in many ways it was comparable, what he was doing was a bargain for what amounted to his entire future if it proved fruitful. If it wasn''t then so be it, he wouldn''t have wasted anything as preparing for this day gave him plenty of practice and knowledge about himself and the world he was in.


    The foundation of his plans for his vengeance and subsequent liberation from the tyrannical claws of the Old Ones were not based on this, but there was no reason to not try, at worst it was practice. Hoopa acknowledged the desperate need to have some form of ''trusty useful ally'' no matter who or what this individual might be.


    He wasn''t picky and gaining an ally in the form of a Necron was not outside of the box, he would have even gone with a C''tan and for all he knew this might be this.


    He didn''t hold any real enmity toward the soulless automatons after all even if what he does daily to them would like to prove the exact opposite, but he didn''t have a choice and it was this or he let billions die in addition to the vast majority of Necron were mindless puppets and eliminating the ones with minds was not straightforward.


    His view on the Nercon was rather neutral but leaning more on the negative side of things. The records were heavily biased if not downright erroneous and the vast majority of the blame could be put on the Old Ones but in the end, the Necron started this war, out of rage and despair to save their dying species first then revenge later but they still did start the war.


    The Necron or Necrontyr at the time had asked for the secret of immortality and it certainly was at the height of arrogance but the Old Ones didn''t simply refuse, they chose the option of openly laughing at their misery and not helping in any way while continuing to mock them. All of this because of their hubris, they felt they were above as if they were chosen by the Universe.


    All of this, the war, the death, the horror, it all could have been easily avoided if any Old One used his or her time to help a dying ''lower life forms'', something that would have been trivial. It didn''t even need to be big, a basic overall health boost with a potential failsafe in case of betrayal would have sufficed.


    The problem stemming from the soul, mind, or body was only an excuse to justify their laziness, they created him after all, how can curing a type of cancer, soul affliction, or genetic disease be in any way shape, or form harder?


    Hoopa couldn''t understand why they didn''t do it unless it was a twisted experiment and from further data it seemed the case. While the records did not mention any name or location in particular they wrote in great detail about the socio-eco-political shift within civilisations on the brink of collapse that had many of the Necrontyr characteristics and they were one of many subjects of study.


    It didn''t excuse anything of what these Necrontyr did after, not that there was a need to, but it gave reasons as flimsy as they were and not some illusion of grandeur and being above nature by acting as some kind of gardeners of the Milky Way, and that a civilization or entire species are just pests and weeds to be rid off.


    And they didn''t even do that correctly, they could have terminated the Necrontyr after defeating them the first time once and for all but no, humiliating them and letting them fall deeper into a bottomless pit of despair and rage as their species died out on the prison that had become their homeworld was what the oh so merciful and wise Old Ones decided to do leading to a series of event that ended with the Necron and C''tan of today. The blame was inclusive but it was not equally distributed.


    In the end, it was a very complex topic and Hoopa was only interested enough to know what to and not to say even if the Necron were to be worse he would and could not hate them to the degree he had for the Old Ones, the Great Old One Cthylla in particular.


    Hypocritical but he never thought of himself as a paragon of morality.


    "But how does this device work? Is it tactile, does it have a turn-on button or something else¡­ Or does it work on intent? How does this technology operate?", Hoopa said with confusion his mind went over immediately how he sounded like an old man interacting for the first time with a smartphone as he fiddled with the Necrodermis sarcophagus.


    At some point, his thumb touched an area that melted and like a card castle the device turned to grey sand but before he cursed the sand flowed and formed a small pyramid that opened and emitted a toxic green light that took the shape of someone.


    A Necron by all accounts, it had skeletal metallic limbs, prominent ribs, and the overall same aesthetic as one. However this was no regular Necron, this one was one-eyed, a collar of gold horned his rectangular head, while a long segmented tail grew from his lower back and a scepter ending in the shape of a deformed star was held tightly in his left hand.


    From a purely appearance standpoint and his knowledge this was a ''male'' Necron of privileged status, it was most likely an Overlord or Cryptek, but which one of the two he didn''t know. It either meant he wasn''t important enough to be of note or was kept hidden by the Necron since it was far too valuable or the Necron himself was keeping a low profile.


    "A hologram, oh or not...", Hoopa''s melodious voice turned from a neutral interest to pleasantly surprised as what he presumed was going to be a discussion from a distance turned to one that was going to be face to face and so he let the connection from whatever was outside to the device try to travel here from time itself, and he let it do by giving the way.


    What followed was fascinating and another proof of how beyond impressive the technology of the Necron was, it was something, or more accurately someone that was using time as a medium of travel by using this device as an anchor point from where the one that was doing it was located.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ''Interesting method of transport but far too obvious and rigid still¡­ Close to virtually infinite and nearly impossible to stop once started but it''s a one-way trip. He wants to make a good impression. I can give him that.'', he mentally analyzed this new type of locomotion and his instincts were already working on how to do the same but with psychic power and better it even if he didn''t need it himself.


    A few seconds trickled by and the hologram ultimately was replaced in its totality by the high-class Necron it represented. A fanged smirk formed on Hoopa''s face as the single eye of his potential ally turned on with the usual greenish light and his body began to move like an awakening corpse all the while remaining in the palm of his tridactyl hand.


    "Courage and stupidity are but the two facets of the same coin. Now I have to decide which side you belong to. After all, you, a Necron, directly came to me and neutralized all chances of escape. You gave your unlife for me to play with, a being who should not have the incentive to entertain you, yet you knew I would, didn''t you, how? But first, I would like to know who I am speaking to. Someone bold and confident or foolish enough to risk everything by wanting to speak to me face to face is someone I must know the name of.", Hoopa said in the language of his interlocutor whose metallic body could be felt shivering to an imperceptible degree but one he could feel.


    He immediately recognized it as one of the particular quirks of the Necron, it was only apparent with the ones that still had most of their minds intact, it surfaced under extreme stress or intense moments of emotions, or they were insane either way it was something they kept from once they were living. At least that was what he learned from personal experience.


    And there were quite several odd things about this Necron besides the extremely unusual behavior.


    "My name is Orikan, and I serve as a Cryptek under the Sautekh Dynasty and Triarch but before all Necron, I''m known as the Diviner for I''m the most accomplished astromancer within the Infinite Empire, Magician. I have broken from the binds placed upon me by my enslaver the Star Gods with the assistance of alternate versions of myself, I''m under none of their foul influence but that you must already know.", the Necron presented himself politely with a deep bow, his distinctively masculine voice smooth and metallic with a natural edge of vanity.


    "Magician¡­ Quite an innocent and inconspicuous name for me, elegant in its simplicity yet strangely deceptive but without lies. I must admit I find it hard not to like it.", Hoopa stated, shocking the Necron at how direct he was but other than the interesting title for him there was the mention of astromancer and everything after, as pretentious as Orikan''s words were about being the most accomplished they were true.


    Hoopa could tell this much in this environment where he was the absolute master and lies even from a soulless machine would not escape him, though what wasn''t a lie didn''t mean it was the truth either but it likely wasn''t such a case here. Necron were not blind to objective reality even if their view was warped.


    "Acting in such a way and taking such a risk is not characteristic of your kind, but it follows your words. Though it is not enough reason, the only option I can see for your choice is based upon my knowledge and estimation, if they are accurate you have predicted the future and knew how the events following this decision will most likely unfold.", the Archdjinni continued, quite open on his view of the situation and that he could be wrong, "This meeting is within your calculation and you must have a concrete idea of what I seek, what I desire."


    There was no need to be overly arrogant or try to be too domineering here, Hoopa understood it and it was shocking yet again for Orikan, something the former was greatly amused by. The Diviner didn''t expect this, but this still was far from a discussion between equals; it was just surprising how reasonable of a God this being seemed. Though it was still a God he was speaking to and they were fickles.


    "Magician, your assessment of my talents and capabilities is flattering but you misunderstood their nature. As a matter of time, I cannot grasp what is outside of its flux, and even then my vision is not without flaws. You are an all-encompassing shadow that darkens all with its blinding light and reading the stars upon your person is an impossibility, none can do so, none. You cannot find what isn''t there but consequences can be glimpsed if only in puzzling fragments.", Orikan said rather tentatively, the hold on his staff tightening ever so slightly as an unknown punishment never came.


    "Hmm, I see. It indeed is correct and a worthy subject to study for later.", Hoopa hummed in understanding, the rumbling of his body shaking the Necron to his core as if he was a fragile piece of glass which in this situation was the case.


    ''Out of time and a shadow¡­ It makes sense I suppose.'', he thought, deciding to ponder upon this latter another point of view like this was always important, and it reminded him of his experience on its equivalent psychic power and it was one he couldn''t do at all in any meaningful way.


    It was the moment he interacted or simply placed his interest in the prophecy he saw did it lost all its coherence at once, but he had mostly put into his lack of innate talent, knowledge, and practice which didn''t change with this knowledge but it gave a sensible explanation and something to consider.


    In the end, his inclination to Magic was more of a Jack-of-all-trade, master of most. His brethren specializing in certain aspects of it will be naturally superior in them like Isha was with biomancy. In addition, he was the Aedari God of Darkness so it likely entered in conflict with the art of farseeing and it correlated to other branches where he had less ease to use.


    "Then I can infer that your choice is based on other divinations leading you to follow the most adequate path for your goal, which requires my assistance but it doesn''t explain how you knew I would be interested, or you didn''t and that is bravely foolish of you.", Hoopa said with curiosity his massive eyes in comparison locking on the astromancer studying his every move.


    "It is uncouth of my position and a tarnish on my notoriety but I must admit I did not know, not fully that is, Magician. This was a choice that I made against all decrees of logic and principle I adhered to, a gamble taken upon very little data and loose theories. But it was sufficient for someone of my renown to gain awareness of your revulsion for those pathetic saurians, one so profound it overshadows even ours when my people were of flesh and blood and yet you are their greatest strength, the combination of their madness, a force so mighty it would inevitably lead the Infinite Empire and all that it is made to fall to absolute damnation. I had to take the risk.", Orikan said, the mere mention of the Old Ones ending in a raise of his pitch and a feeling of oppression originating from the Archdjinni of the Rings so potent it was beyond that of anything he had felt even with the gathering of the most powerful C''tan.


    The hate was so visceral it manifested into physical form around Hoopa and the surrounding Sea of Souls, overpowering everything in dark torrents for what seemed an eternity until all vanished as if nothing had happened but the Cryptek knew it did.


    Orikan only now fully comprehended how intense was the hatred, and it was only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg, it was one he was all too familiar with but his Necrodermis body had dampened to near-nothingness yet the most terrifying of all was that this primal rage was sane, controlled and directed.


    "My apology for this lapse in control. As you witnessed, you are more than correct. But let''s not dwell upon our common hatred for those cowardly vermin, this is beneath us. Instead, let''s guide our discussions on what we can do to further our interests as it is for this that you have reached me, is it not?", Hoopa said, his smile growing to a terrifying degree as a yellowish skin parchment etched with a dark pentagram composed untold runes manifested before the Necron, with it also came a shadowy feather.


    "I must state the obvious we are not friends, and neither equal but we can be allies and work together as long as our wishes align, you wish for the freedom of your people from the C''tan and for them to not be eradicated and I wish the demise of Mother and her kind to never be shackled by their will, but I''m not naive and neither are you. This pact-oh... You are a very interesting Necron, Orikan the Diviner. I cannot choose which facet of the coin you are, maybe both.", Hoopa suddenly stopped his explanation and observed Orikan grab the feather and sign with a solidified version of his time without even studying the lines written.


    "I have come here knowing I have sealed my fate. I see no losses in accepting an an offer that would have for the outcome the liberation of my kind from those traitorous of Star Gods even if it is from the Devil himself.", the Necron Cryptek as he felt something penetrate his body and mind, it was utterly alien and bound him on an existential level to his contractor.


    But it was not a tie of servitude, it was two parts, the first would tell the Archdjinni of the Rings if he betrayed the trust placed upon him, if so annihilation at all levels of existence would smite him no matter where and when he was. The contract was only partially psychic as such even under the influence of a nullifying field he would not be protected.


    The second was more of the payment itself, he would have a favor to grant Hoopa and if refused for reason judged insufficient penalty would befall him, same if it was failed on purpose or sabotaged. It was skewed toward one party and he could only hope the Magician held his part of the deal.


    But¡­ It wasn''t bad, it wasn''t bad at all from what Orikan knew of the being of the Immateriun, it was suspiciously reasonable but again the Magician was a unique case. But still, the gamble Orikan had taken was far from being considered successful and all could shatter in an instant.

 14. Action and Reaction

    Concealed in the depth of the Labyrinth Dimension was an object more pursuing to be found in those places, a rocky planet three times the size of Earth. Its surface of pure white, midnight blue, and vibrant emerald green as life beyond mortal mind comprehension, impossibly grand forest, mountains that broke the skyline, technology grew from nature capable of the most miraculous of wonder, and oceans of infinite depth.


    This was one of the oldest planets in the Milky Way and also one of the first to birth sapient life. Throughout the age it was known by many names the Ancient Garden, the Convergence of Life, or even the Origin of All to only name a few but its true name was given by the natives of this heavenly body was Yuggoth the Great Motherworld.


    The natives of this world had moved it to the most secure, defended, and mysterious part of this dimension between Reality and Unreality where none other than the builders of this slice of space themselves, the Old Ones. It was their ultimate stronghold and where the heart of what once was their empire was even if they never were one like one in the future.


    They never had a proper empire that spanned the stars at least not one with trillions of their species inhabiting untold amounts of heavenly bodies, a number once upon a time had reached this on Yuggoth but that was in the ancient past before their ascension to perfection, it was times were they were weak in mind and body, short-lived and lacked the psychic talent they are known for. They were very much like the lower races that had the honor to be graced by their presence.


    Their ancestors were unaccepting of such an unpleasant fate and they made it so it never was to be the case. What followed was millions of years of unfeeling eugenics, gene craft, soul shaping, ruthless traditions, and harsh environment favoring the strongest, smartest, and wisest of them leading to the current Old Ones. A forced and controlled evolution to what led them to their current height, the perfection of flesh and souls gave form.


    But gaining biological immortality and potent psychic might in addition to such a society came with a price, their population. Their fertility was abysmal, nevertheless when the time where the act of mating was in order, eggs as such were more than a rarity then there were the requirements necessary by the embryonic to be incubated until hatching.


    Then there was the other stage of growth from larval to metamorphosis, not only did it take several millennia, but the offspring failing at meeting the requirements were eliminated in cold blood until they reached adulthood, and even then that wasn''t a certainty. As such the Old Ones numerically speaking did not go above twenty thousand individuals, a minuscule number but that was only one of the reasons why.


    But in general, this was why their empire was barely one and was tattered in clusters of star systems, each the garden and playground of one Old One or a small group of them. And if a threat came then they were the mightiest in every aspect and case of emergency, they had the Labyrinth Dimensions to flee or call for help.


    It that was what they believed until for the second time in their existence it was proven to be erroneous, the Necron and C''tan, abominations of living metal and their predatory false gods came and destroyed with utmost malice all semblance of foothold they had upon Realspace by precise and unforeseen attack leading to thousands of them to die and many more followed no matter what was done.


    But the tides had been drastically changing in the recent past¡­ And a meeting was ongoing upon this very subject.


    It was happening within the most sacred and oldest city of this planet, R''lyeh, a city grown organically from billions upon billions of buildings both of pulsing pillars of flesh, entrancing multicolored vegetation, raw Blackstone thrumming with unbridled psychic energy, and ethereal crystalline product of the ground, they shaped themselves without fixed form or size creating a space of incomparable size and terrific beauty that from the outside stretched over continents and reached to the void of space but from the inside, it was far more spacious equaling massive star system.


    Precisely within a circular megastructure at the center of it all made of flowing pure white crystals, moving plants and a chain of blues tendons was where the meeting was taking place, a meeting between the Great Old Ones, each with a seat at the Great Council to edict the fate of their kinds.


    "I can only accept my defeat Cthylla, your insanity has proven to be fruitful, this living paradox that you have meticulously crafted will be our greatest asset to crush those unliving bugs and their masters tainting our beautiful galaxy with their presence.", Shaurash-Ho said both softly and loudly as he sat comfortably upon his throne, one of his hand grasping between two thumbs a glass of liquid darker than any abyss. A beverage for all intent and purpose, one made partially of a black hole.


    "Insanity? I may accept the danger of bringing this foreign soul within our Universe via the Well of Eternity and endeavor to take responsibility similar to the others who have participated¡­ But Shaurash-Ho, I would adore to hear more than your petty insults upon my person and action, your participation in the war efforts was a little less than praiseworthy.", Chtylla retorted sternly from her throne to her fellow Great Old One and this comeback seemed to be enough to stifle her eldest into silence due to shock mostly, whispers followed soon after of varying opinion.


    It was the truth he might have participated in many projects and even pioneered the uses of Blackstones in many fields but his presence for the past eons in the war had been almost non-existent. It can even be said he had created a large disadvantage for them with his study that had been bastardized by the C''tan, but that was quite asinine to say this, it only accelerated this star parasites'' progress.


    And there was the fact that her authority within the Great Council had developed quite positively and was continuing to do so, otherwise, she wouldn''t be this¡­ Bold. To say she had been one of the most pivotal figures in the rearrangement of their fate for the better would not be an exaggeration.


    "Silence everyone. Young Cthylla, is the method of containment enough when this scuffle ends to put it out indefinitely until an adequate solution for its termination is discovered? I want to know if it has the potential to become a situation akin to those mind-flaying parasites where only periodical sealing is the solution. We must put an end to its dark influence upon what is and what isn''t.", Nctosa to her right side said with a thin lipless smile and sharp frills on her head shifting contracting deeply with her words that led to more than a few to squirm in discomfort at the mind related parasite part, the second reason for their kind diminutive population.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    As for the movement of her frills, it was a clear sign of curiosity in their species body language if a rather primitive and boorish one, though considering she was one of the oldest of their kind it was to be expected from her in particular. Her genes were imperfect compared to theirs.


    It was truly a miracle she was even still here for some of the ''youngsters'' but she was a veteran and had a vast array of powers of all kinds, and some tended to forget that she was the leading researcher and one of the utmost experts in the Song of Creation, or Enuncia as it will later be known as. The strongest most versatile weapon of their species until the ''it'' she spoke of and even then it was made with these words of truth, and she had partaken from afar in its creation, Cthylla from a certain angle could even be considered her student.


    "There is no reason to worry Elder Nctosa, the Flask of Sealing will hold Hoopa away from all for enough time to find a solution and his design made it so he cannot refuse our wish. Our words are laws and he shall obey them, if his death is required then it shall be.", Chtylla answered the mention of euthanizing her Magnum Opus doing little to faze her, art did not need to be eternal to be enchanting and appreciated.


    Particularly in this case as she and her fellow Great Old Ones understand the potential implications of letting such powerful beings stay alive. His power was far too great and his contradictory nature blurred the fates of all, blinding them from their given right to read upon that thread of times.


    His existence was not to be kept for an extended period of time after he gave them victory. What was the use of a weapon without a target to aim it at?


    And it wasn''t so much different for any of what they created even if the vast majority of the others like the Young Races will not be so severely judged. Some would need to be culled down to extinction or weakened to a large extent for the greater good of the Milky Way.


    In addition, the idea of a being that wasn''t of their kind possessing inherent power far outstripping them could only be tolerated for so long. It brought an uncomfortable sensation that had no right to exist in the divine sanctuary that was their biology, a vestige from their ancestors that had waned but never disappeared.


    "Yet as much as I wish to trust your judgment upon your craft, I know that action speaks louder than words Cthylla. It obeys your words but none are blind to your toy following orders in the way it pleases, those poor animals it had twisted right after its birth for its own amusement, wasting time instead of directly combating the threat proof enough. An immediate demonstration will be in order, is there an objection for it to happen at this place and time?", Hnarqu with a booming voice declared, his only remaining slitted pupil shining menacingly but only holding rationality.


    A wave of murmurs and rapid but complex telepathic debate followed before a short vote was done, thirteen for and eleven against the invocation of the paradoxical creature. It wasn''t a simple act, calling nothing but the Great Old Ones within this room that they were in had only happened a dozen times and then it was with Old Ones, this¡­


    This was entirely different and in a way tampered with the sanctity of this place. But practically of them all being here won over most of their slow beating hearts, and curiosity too, after all, who wouldn''t want to study in the very last detail such an enigmatic creature?


    -Hoopa, my child. I request your presence in the place I''m currently in, the restrictions are as such temporarily lifted and you have the authorization to enter.-, Cthylla having waited for the consensus to be drawn sent telepathically to her strongest and most versatile but also grumpy child and the answer was immediate but it wasn''t with words.


    A golden ring manifested out of thin air to her left, then a portal akin to the most stunning constellation expanded within it, what came out of it was two bluish-grey skinned fingers ending in wickedly sharp black curved claws. The two fingers flexed and extended the ring to point the two hands they were connected to could go out and grab the ring, and once the ring was large enough the owner of those two talon-like hands flew out of it.


    Standing in levitation to Cthylla''s right was Hoopa, the bodiless limbs used to enlarge the portal sheathing themselves back in their pockets to the side of his abdomen as he meticulously studied his new environment. His mere presence changed the atmosphere of the room as a passive but discreet oppressive feeling settled into the heart of all, even his Mother, it was natural to feel this way after all.


    "You may have the authorization to open your mouth, Child of Cthylla.", Hnarqu said, no, ordered, his lone eye never leaving the creature even once. He felt fear, terror even one far above that of the one that caused the permanent loss of one of his eyes, one of the strongest C''tan and obsessed with flesh and skin, Llandu''gor the Flayer.


    And from what this massive horned beast had done it made sense that he felt this way, it was a being that fended off C''tan regularly on the battlefield and terminated the Nightbringer without risking the fabric of reality. It was a true monster but one that was necessary for their survival, for the moment.


    "It''s the highest of honor to be given the opportunity to be in such a site and your grand presence, what does the Great Council require of my person?", Hoopa lied smoothly in his enchanting voice, a smile showing pure white fangs to them all as he contained as much of his unbridled hate toward them in himself and what might escape was snuffed by his darkness.


    Still, it was clear he was not overjoyed to be here, at least he was acting polite enough, tamed enough, to not appear like a rabid animal that wanted to rip them apart even if that was what he REALLY wanted to do. If he knew what they had been speaking of seconds before he might even have been snappier, but he had enough self-control to do nothing more, not that he could have attacked them. His very body and power would refuse to do so.


    To add oil to the fire it wouldn''t be something out of his already low expectation from them. He understood his place in the hierarchy very well, that didn''t mean he accepted it but it was better to make them believe that he did.


    ''What do they want? They never had the guts to face me, nevertheless in their little ivory tower from where they always observed me when it took their fancy. But¡­ This place is beyond impressive, so much knowledge to be gained. A tragedy it would all have to disappear.'', he thought uncertain of what was his purpose here but that didn''t stop him from using this opportunity to learn as much as possible about what made this place and more.


    "Show us your faith by giving us your beating heart taken from your own chest with the claws we have granted you.", the same Great Old One that had given Hoopa the right of speech said his voice cold if almost casual.


    ''Pathetic creatures.'', was the thought that flew through his mind as an understanding of why he was here downed upon him. A show of force and to see if he would obey and how he would do so, the act of taking out his heart was not one to perturb him much, it wasn''t like it would put him out of commission or even less kill him. He was above this but he hated being forced to do it all the same.


    -Do so my child. Also¡­ Swerve the backlash that will naturally ensue from my person and Nctosa the burden that will naturally ensue. Let them see what wanting to tarnish, damage the image of my art, my talent, my honor would grant them.-, Chtylla sent her thoughts to him and he answered with a ''Yes, Mother'', two words that barely hid his current state of mind but she didn''t care.


    "By the Great Old Ones'' wishes.", Hoopa said and hovered himself in the middle of the room on a pedestal, the place where his audience was suddenly shifted from a circle to a crescent-shaped formation letting them have the full view of what he was going to do.


    He had never felt so much like a circus animal until now, but he kept it all inside, giving them the satisfaction he was affected more than the strict minimum was something he found far more infuriating than the situation at hand.


    And so with that in mind, he plunged one of his disembodied hands into the golden ring growing out of his chest, the portal constantly lit on it by his command leading to the deepest confine of his rib cage.


    With a touch of psychic scalpel and biomancy, he cut off his flesh following the instruction that Chtylla was actively giving him.


    Then he brought it out, large arteries and veins still connected through the portal to his body transporting obsidian black blood as he felt the slow but powerful heartbeat of his own heart in his own hand. But the agony he was feeling was drowned by the sight of the Great Old Ones.


    Barring two they were all squirming, some with faces of despair, their body language screamed that they wanted to flee while were in the middle of falling into comatose. All of this was by the aura emanated from the rhythmically beating purple organ in his palm, however, he was not aiming to harm them; what was happening was only a byproduct of what they asked.


    Why should he not heed their divine decree? He was only a throw-away tool, and a good tool needed to do its job after all. How could he, or it, could have known any better? However, the way his smile had grown by a few millimeters upward told a different story.


    "Enou-enough!", Hnarqu screamed his voice the opposite of composed while his good eye was dilated and bloodshot and the clutch of hands on his throne had begun cracking it.

 15. Scheme for Freedom

    Portaling back into my chamber I felt the last strands of flesh in my chest regenerate and my smile disappear, not wasting any time I sat on my meditation cushion and breathed deeply as I closed my eyes.


    ''Calm down Hoopa¡­'', I thought my emotions were running wild yet perfectly contained and my face the perfect image of serenity.


    Oh, I wanted to vent but that would be a great waste of time and in the end, it''s only a temporary solution. Not forgetting the collateral damage I will cause that would fuck up the Milky Way in ways I wasn''t certain would even heal, creating a scar from the Immaterium to the Materium was not hard. Not hard for me, that is.


    Anyway¡­ The lizard bitch calling me to show how good of a pet I''m to her click of psychotic saurians had been sudden and had interrupted me in my studies, studies that were in many things but the focus lately had been on the terrifying and versatile art of the mind known as telepathy.


    From linking minds to communicate light years away instantaneously to sharing of memory to something that no other words could describe other than mind rape and beyond, it was a tool capable of bringing the most horrific and incredible of results.


    A tool that held no direct sway on the physical and no sway at all on which didn''t have a soul or at the very least a connection to the Sea of Souls.


    It was art I was naturally very inclined to and also immune in all forms with the only exception being my connection to Chtylla and how I could be controlled but that was inherent to my design and didn''t directly manipulate my mind per se. If that were the case I would be having those oh-so-very heinous and traitorous ideas toward my benevolent creator and her kind.


    The latter was something not even the Old Ones could force themselves within, and order would not work well they could still make me say it but they wouldn''t be able to enter. And even if I grant them entry it would be similar to their reaction to my heart but far more deadly as it would lead to an explosive reaction so to say, like pure sodium in distilled water.


    Or more accurately matter to antimatter but in their central nervous system, this was beside the point that my mind was far stronger in every conceivable way. I was made to be a weapon and they weren''t, in addition, the vast majority were not warriors, instead, they were mad scientists playing God.


    The control over my person was both straightforward and extensively insidious, the first active and the second passive even if both were intricately woven together.


    The first was that I would have to follow the order no matter what, but the fewer constraints were placed and the less explicit the orders were the more options I would be given to execute them. What mattered was the destination and not the journey.


    The second connects to the first in a way that made it for me as a baseline. I couldn''t harm, maim, or cause discomfort to the Old Ones, but it wasn''t operating on magic without logic as ironic as it is. It worked through intent, my intent to directly cause these things to them, it was using myself against myself. My knowledge, my emotions, and my mind itself were being used as tools to stop myself.


    If I know something will harm them, then I will not be able to use it on them. Simple yet incredible, as much as I hate the lizard bitch I marveled every day at her works. It was a marvel but it wasn''t perfect, mayhaps if I were to create me she could have gone deeper than she could have but she couldn''t have and so the result wasn''t faultless. To my great joy may I add.


    And so there came telepathy, it was myself working against myself but what if I modified myself to trick myself to then trick the compelling effect? It was complicated and delicate but it was in the realm of the possible if only for a brief time before my mind felt it and forced everything back in order.


    I was suffering from my inherent greatness, in addition, my mind being altered even by my own design will likely be noticed and force me to stop what I had started.


    This means I had one chance for a sliver of a microsecond at best, not forgetting that any of the Great Old Ones could forbid me from ever doing it again and that would be it. But this wasn''t a fatality and there were several countermeasures for this to be used in a way that would kill them all under the right conditions.


    This aside it won''t be me who would do the killing, as much as it displeases me, this would be something that the Old Ones had met in the distant past and nearly caused their extinction if Orikan words were to be true, and luckily for him they were. Only I know what I would have done to him if he dared to lie or betray me.


    What nearly caused this extinction happened millions of years ago and the one culprits of it were, to my pleasant surprise and shock, still alive if in complete stasis, prisoner for eternity in an indestructible cage grown in the most turbulent layer of the Sea of Souls.


    A creation of the Old Ones by all parameters, and one of their greatest rivaling and surpassing many aspects of their kind capital. It should be noted that I didn''t approach, let alone try to interact with this prison, but I was aware of what it contained and that was enough.


    After all, a cell no matter how good it may be became absolutely obsolete if everything that made it what it was could be ignored, it wasn''t made with a creature like me in mind not that there was a lot that could be done anyway. However that evidently wouldn''t be close enough to free myself of the toads'' commands, but I had more planned yet one misstep on my part and all would collapse like a card castle in a windstorm.


    Not forgetting telepathy would prove vital in collecting and using the little remaining of what I once was into something useful. A lot was completely lost, but not all, even if that is a endeavor pointless its worth trying.


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    A few months'' worth of time passed like this with me studying and psychic dummies mimicking living souls, helping in the far reach of the galaxy and the like until everything was suddenly interrupted by the loud sound of knocking against my door, even without using my more acute senses with how the knocks sounded like wood being hit let me draw the obvious conclusion to who it was.


    "The Clown¡­", I said, smirking ever so slightly as I plopped myself off my cushion and drifted toward the gate, several more loud knocks echoed as I advanced each louder than the last.


    Twitching a finger the massive door snapped open leaving me wide open to an attack in the form of a kaleidoscope of party strings the volume of ocean and with the power to shatter mountains. Invoking a portal I teleported the attack back to its sender, whose boneless body morphed away causing the multicolored strings to come back at me in addition to another volley coming my way.


    This little game continued until both of us had been mostly covered in this glittering stringy substance and a chuckle escaped us both, one capable of driving weaker life forms beyond the limit of sanity but a ''simple'' chuckle all the same. It helped change my mind if only for the briefest of moments and it was greatly appreciated. For that I was grateful.


    "Thank you Cegorach, this was a nice change of pace.", I said honestly, snapping my finger thereby banishing the mess that was done to me and the runes matrix of the chamber will take care of the rest.


    "You''re welcome my dear many-armed friend, and the sentiment is shared. In this little family of ours, there isn''t anyone with any kind of humor or any desire for entertainment at least the kind that I''m in the spectrum of. Isha and Lileath were the only ones before you and they are¡­ How to say without being grossly offensive, one is just mostly amusing me out of sheer kindness and the other is a bit of a prude at times.", the Laughing God babbled mirthfully, his smaller and lighter body solidifying before me then his neck grew in size for him to not have to crane it obscenely so he obscenely lengthened his neck.


    Why, I wasn''t sure considering he could just hover but truly why not when he was a natural polymorph? Both options were valid and he tended to pick the most ridiculous. If he wants to be the portrait of the lovechild between a giraffe and this eldritch clown obsessed with red balloons and children, who am I to judge him?


    "On a more serious note, what is the purpose of this impromptu but appreciated visit?", I asked in curiosity his body immediately stopped moving as if it had frozen, and then like a eureka moment he melted like a puddle in a way a cartoon character does before nodding dramatically to himself.


    "The brazing bird had organized a meeting between the strongest of us in the Thrones Room but instead of one of our faithful subjects coming to inform you I graciously decided to take it upon myself to do it instead! Aren''t I great? And oh if I may ask out of curiosity, why were you called by Mother on her kind little dustball of a world?", he said, his tone switching from obnoxiously cheery to somewhat serious, something that was to be remarked and it wasn''t the one used for jokes.


    He knew something was going on, that at the very least I was working in the back of all for my interest. It was evident but I''m quite certain aside from Morai-Heg and him others had any idea of the nature of what I desired


    However I didn''t react much to that, compared to my other brethren he wasn''t a fan of the Old Ones and neither was he happy that our little Pantheon was slaves to them, logic went directly against what he embodied beyond being a glorified meatshield. He wasn''t the only one feeling this way but overall it was far more muted in all others, if it was by force or choice that I couldn''t tell with certainty.


    "Would you prefer words or a condensed memoir of the event?", I asked as we began to move toward the First Layer where the meeting was going to take place.


    Using my rings was an option, even using the Celestian Enclave teleportation array but why use them for such a purpose and cut short my time with one of the singular creatures with whom I had a relationship in the realm of friendship?


    There was Khaine too but I wouldn''t call it friendship, it would be more mutual respect than anything else, and Isha as well but ''friend'' wouldn''t be the term I would use too¡­ She oozed kindness to an unhealthy level and was trying to please everyone in the domain of reasonable, she was a very good acquaintance but I wouldn''t go farther than that. I think the true difference is that Cegorach understands me far more than any other.


    "I choose the third option evidently, why take one when I can take both!", and the clown in question said as if it was evident and I granted half of the wish immediately by taking a wisp of the memories, editing them in ways I deemed necessary while still showing the truth.


    He didn''t hesitate one second and chomped down the flicker of memories. His body worthy in movement, the most hyperactive child reached a standstill, and the ever-present grin on his porcelain drama mask face cracked and became a snarl, all happened in microseconds before he was back to his usual self but something was different.


    He was angry, genuinely angry about it all, something that was nice in a strange way to know, and it seemed to only rise as I began explaining with words what he saw and even experienced to a lesser degree. Memories were far more than mere images and sounds.


    "-But don''t think about it too much, there is nothing to be done that won''t transpire. Keep going as you would Cegorach.", I finished rather cryptically, a hint of a smile with bloodlust appearing and vanishing from my face as fast as it came. It''s not that I didn''t trust him to help me, quite the opposite is that he wouldn''t be able to help me and it would backfire screwing us both over.


    But it wasn''t his fault, it was how he had been designed.


    If I could be considered a slave then he, something handcrafted from the ground up with far less restriction around to be modeled would be far more enslaved, he was less than an automaton in many ways here. His very nature made it so he was even entertaining these thoughts close to mine.


    It was sad, there were no other words for it. This entire war we were all in was tragic and pointless but there weren''t a thousand solutions to put an end to it.


    "Ah finally, finally! We have reached our destination!", Cegorach suddenly exclaimed excitedly and teleported within in a flash of glittering rose petals and I followed suit but in a deep purple vortex. My rings gave me the ability to warp everywhere but I could evidently still teleport the regular way.


    I reappeared and invoked my seat, a levitating throne befitting for my size made of pure gold, carving of various mystical meanings adorned it while hundreds of cut gemstones from onyx to amethyst each of their facets full of my personal brands of runes.


    Shifting my tail to the nook specifically made for this I hovered down and seated myself on the vibrant red velvet cushion of the chair. Three of my arms flew off their shock, one moving below my chin and begin fiddling innocently with my beard while the two others grasped the gilded armrest, the black claws scrapping audibly like metal against metal.


    "At the last the two of our final numbers arrive, you are a fourteenth of a quarter cycle late.", a cold metallic baritone voice echoed with little emotion stated from my left, the owner of it a stone grey masculine humanoid creature wearing a toga of gold, Vaul the Forgebound, Aeldari God of Smith, and all Craftsmanship from Architecture to Bonesinging.


    He was on a throne smaller than mine and also lower, it''s a sign of our state difference, it was silly but that was the rules and I didn''t make them. His throne was composed of highly advanced technology yet also of swords and untold weapons from seemingly all stages of civilization. A magnificent ll and quite tacky piece but it lacked the bling and brilliance of mine and that was what mattered.


    "Our most sincere apology dear older brother, we might have lost count of time as Hoopa and I argued on which colors were the magnificent banners your disciples weaved.", Cegorach bullshited his way through and knowing that it was, in fact, something we had done, the only bullshit part was the timeline presented.


    But it didn''t seem to be close to a satisfactory answer as things were going to heat up but all stopped from a throne of vegetation that of bloody thorns, sizzling poison, delicate flowers, and wide leaves Isha said softly.


    "Everyone please settle down, let''s not start an argument over such a trivial matter. Cegorach has made amend for them, and might I add arguing will not grant the time lost back. Let''s not waste what can be used.", her words had an immediate effect calming down our brother of the forge with pure logic, something he couldn''t argue against as it was nothing else but the absolute truth.


    ''Oh that could have been fun...'', I thought with disappointment even if I was still grateful overall.


    Then the one sitting on the highest and largest throne, one made of living primordial fire brighter than any star stood up, decided to stop being a decoration, and moved, his body made of plated armor moving with extraordinary if pompous elegance as he spoke with regality only possessed by the highest royalty in both ways of speech and sheer arrogance.


    "By the incandescent essence of my divine flame, I, Asuryan, Phoenix King, your King declare this war council officially started."

 16. War Council

    "By the incandescent essence of my divine flame, I, Asuryan, Phoenix King, your King declare this war council officially started."


    At those words order permeated the Thrones Room, for most that is, I was still nonchalantly fiddling with my beard while the tip of my tail moved lazily in the air as if it had a mind of its own. I could do pretty much everything as long as it was within the limit of reason.


    Our loved-not Godking Asuryan held a similar sway over the other that the lizard bitch had on me but overall lesser in many ways. The Authority part of one of his domains was not for show but to have authority there must be something that proves you deserve it in some way be power or charisma which the armored flaming turkey did not have over me.


    In terms of raw psychic power he was above me by a decent margin like his twin brother Khaine even after the injury but that wasn''t all there was to battle and I was far, far, far younger than them with less worship so it''s to be expected. Still, I could effortlessly shrug off the vast majority of whatever Asuryan may dish at me and if worse came to worse I could portal myself away.


    If we fought maybe I could not kill him if it wasn''t in a vacuum or with preparation to avoid him fleeing or getting reinforcement but injuring him to the point he shattered into millions of pieces was a possibility. I didn''t fight fair, I wasn''t a warrior nevertheless an honor-bound one, I wasn''t built to be either, I was built to win, and any opportunity to win will be taken and thoroughly used to obsolescence.


    In addition, I was far too dangerous of a weapon to be puppeteered by him, only my sweetheart of a ''Mother'' had the full key to my control. That not even the Great Council knew, she could order me to massacre them and their counter orders would be useless. And not forgetting that being psychically strong was good but as the battle after my birth had proved, having all your eggs in one basket was not an adequate thing to do.


    "Morai-Heg spoke of what you have seen.", Asuryan said in a tone arrogant as per was of order for his person but it was imbued with an unusual amount of respect. Not surprising considering who he was addressing¡­


    The one spoken to in question was sitting cross-legged on what appeared to be a masterfully crafted chair that would have been rather banal in design if not for a peculiar quirk, it was ever-changing in age, the chair passed from appearing to be a living tree with green leaves to a regular chair then one in decomposition to the point of turning to dust.


    Fitting considering who was the goddess herself, she had a peculiar physical oddity that if not present would have made her appear like a normal if exceedingly powerful Aeldari. She was tricephalic, from the middle of her shoulders three necks grew, forming three distinct long-eared woman heads of the same individual but at different stages in life, teenage, middle-aged, and old to the point of being called decrepit. It was also why she was called the Crone.


    "The Masters of the Silver Tide are rapidly shifting their nefarious schemes-", the middle-aged one on the right began, the teenage one continued in a far softer voice, "-for their defeat has become inevitable but they are no fools-", then the one in the middle and the oldest looking finished her voice frigidly severe, "-they shall change their strategy, they shall coagulate into a spear point and-", then all three heads said in tandem, "-they shall attack our most sacred bastion bargaining everything with their full malevolent blight in one last assault."


    ''Oh¡­ Good, good it''s pleasant to know Orikan words were correct¡­'', I thought, stopping playing with my beard for the shortest of moments at the piece of news. One that should for all intent and purpose make me feel somewhat negative but did the exact opposite.


    It was bad, that was certain, but it gave the playground to work for my liberation of the Old Ones'' chains, and a battle of scale that would hopefully never be seen in the Milky Way ever again was what I needed to oil my plans nicely. My little deal with the Necron Cryptek was truly a blessing, well for me mostly.


    Thought if the little Diviner had tried to play me¡­ It was not to say lacking a soul and a nervous system was something I needed to make someone experience the worst that could be, Necron and their conditions did not make them absolutely immune to all that the things biological life forms with souls could go through.


    It made them resistant to many things but their state wasn''t immutable, in theory mostly for now. The few million Necron with multiple degrees of sapience I captured and was storing in my Vault had been subject to a few less than ethical experiences and I had several hypotheses with various proof of the possibility of turning them back.


    But this was nothing of importance and more of a way to learn about transmutation and other branches of magic. If I wanted to do something like making objects back into people at least a few centuries of study focused on this was necessary for a result I could deem acceptable. And that was in the better estimate, it was to say that the threat of throwing Orikan in the Well of Eternity was far more effective.


    Anyway¡­ My careless attitude about such terrifying news was not shared by many of my brothers and sisters. Shock most of all, notably visible on the Maiden, aka the Aeldari Goddess of Dream, and Hope, her name Lileath, a young-looking Aeldari with a fluffy pair of pure white wings with golden accents sitting on a throne of rainbow clouds that had turned into a dark thunderstorm.


    Her mother Isha was showing less shock and more worry if not even great sadness, as for her father Kurnous, the Lord of the Beasts, the God of the Hunt, and Wilderness, a muscular anthropomorphic stag-deer-goat-man hybrid on a throne of many bones, feathers, scales, and hide only frowned in great displeasure.


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    To only name those three.


    And he was the first to speak after the news, "That is a trail of events I should have foreseen, they are cornered and will lash out with their full might at the reason of their state. If we win then this endless war will end but if we lose¡­"


    "Lose? Lose! Do you hear yourself, do you hear your idiocy? Ah, what an infuriating and ridiculous concept but understandable from your limited viewpoint, animal. Those are the tactics of desperation, they do not have a choice but that is ultimately a pointless endeavor.", Khaine butted in with a sneer from his twisted throne of bronze and shattered bones, blood dripping in a neverending cascade from it yet never stained the marbled ground below.


    As more words began to be flung at one another thanks to good ol'' Khaine I observed passively. Cegorach was doing the same if visibly more engaged in the divine space opera with what appeared like popcorn but was made of light blue and pink crystal in his hand. I didn''t have such a sour relationship with the Aeldari God of War but it wouldn''t be hard to understand why he was so hated, rightfully so might I add.


    He was a hot-headed impulsive unstable murderous psychotic asshole with a long list of actions that were less than admirable. The murder in body and soul of one the first and most revered Aeldari Eldanesh for no true reason but a boot of displeasure giving him the title of Bloody-Handed and also the reason Vaul had the title of Forgebound even if Forgechained would be closer to the truth. Those were two examples of many mountains of skulls and oceans of blood, besides the Necron and C''tan he might be the second with the most kills done personally.


    Overall he was snappy and very abrasive and tended to be someone to avoid but I was one of the few he didn''t despise even though I know this won''t be the case for long. Though it wasn''t as if his opinion aside from war mattered, he was still someone to be noted as a potential problem until he calmed down.


    "Silence.", Asuryan said with a scowl, his eyes burning like stars, stopping all the arguing before it evolved into fighting both to my relief and displeasure, "I will heavily punish all that try to disturb this meeting of the highest importance. Save your little impertinent meddling when the time is due or make yourself small and forgotten."


    "On that, we can agree.", I nodded at his words which he ignored, I didn''t like him and wouldn''t follow him but he wasn''t foolish beyond saving. If only his arrogance could be taken down a peg or two, alas it wouldn''t be possible that much I knew in any manner that didn''t involve violence.


    "Aunt, how soon is this event predicted to be?", Lileath asked with great worry and the answer that followed was not one any other but Khaine and I wanted to hear even if it was for vastly different reasons.


    "This cannot be known with certainty, the Archjinni of the Rings-", the left head of Morai-Heg said followed by the left, "-very presence cloud the weaves of fate and destiny from friends and foes-", and the one in the middle finished, "-but fragments brought together heed the final battle to be in the scant thousands coming cycles."


    Many eyes focused on me and I just gazed back lazily at them all and exclaimed almost innocently, "What? Would you blame a star for being hot?"


    But no answer followed aside from the Great Harlequin chuckling, it wasn''t like it was my fault. If they wanted to complain the lizard bitch isn''t far, and speaking of the reptile¡­


    I need to say this even if it was odd of me, but my vitriol has become less visible as time went on, and if there was suspicion it won''t change that what I had to say was necessary.


    "The Great Council, even if likely aware of this, needs to be warned about this and our plans. I propose we submit to Mother for her people to be brought to Yuggoth and the Celestian Enclave for both protection and support. They would play a major role in our victory and if we fail by some unknown variable then there must be a way to evacuate most of them with their home world to a new safe haven.", I suggested and murmurs of both agreement and disagreement soon followed from everyone until we settled on my proposition.


    Though in the end, it was the Great Council who would decide I don''t see why they would refuse willing meat shields while they cowered on their dust ball far from any supposed danger. Heh, the word ''supposed'' was key here.


    "OOH! I have a super magnificently good idea too! All the mortal races with their entire population should join the party as well! The more the merrier after all, wouldn''t you agree?", Cegorach declared with sparkling eyes from his throne or more accurately colorful puppet theater that he was within.


    "I found it hard to disagree, their presence and sacrifice will prove necessary for the future all.", Lileath said displeased, nay disgusted with the mere notion, if how her wings shivered was any indication but she was rational enough to put aside emotions for logic.


    She did take a lot from her mother and kindness was one of them but it was more mild than excessive. It was good I supposed, having one Isha was already enough nevermind two. Overly kind people tended to be very grating at times when it came to morality and hypocrisy even if I wasn''t one to ponder on morality nowadays.


    "As much as it saddens and pains me to envision the consequences of such a choice, my daughter''s words held all but the truth. Countless would perish for countless more to hope to thrive in a future where war and violence are foreign concepts and compassion and peace are pillars almighty.", Isha agreed with a downcast expression, the ever-present trickles of starlight forged tears intensifying.


    ''If only that was possible Isha.'', I thought with displeasure at the fact the world didn''t operate this way and it was insincere of me considering I would be part of why it would be this way¡­ But I''m selfish, petty, and prideful and I would not sacrifice myself even if I''m aware of the potential consequences of my choices. I wasn''t a righteous Isekai hero and wasn''t going to act like one.


    I didn''t want to be a slave, and I didn''t want to die. I didn''t choose to be here so I would make do with what I had. My feelings on the matter were secondary.


    "I suppose, it is my duty to haul all of them back here from every corner of the galaxy with great haste?", I said, one of my gold loops popping up as I made it spin around one of my talon fingers at hypersonic speed.


    "The Labyrinth Dimension is among the greatest and most magnificent creations in history in both scale and complexity but I must admit that it pales in comparison to your ability to cut the space between two points in existence. I suppose it falls on your shoulders.", Vaul rumbled in agreement, his eyes locking on one of my rings with an intense thirst for knowledge.


    Creating portals between two points was possible but it was severely limited, had various glaring weaknesses, and couldn''t be done at any place and any moment for any range and destination.


    As such he was very much interested in studying my rings but sadly for him I wouldn''t be good in the role of a cooperating and obedient lab rat and matter of fact they were a part of my body in the same way my six hands, tails and feet were. They even had blood directly pumped from my heart and subsystem of organs both organic and not!


    Inquisitive forge divinity aside all agreed at my proposition and without much of a second of hesitation, I began acting upon my words in parallels to the war council. I focused first on places containing a higher percentage of my ''faithful''. I''m still not used to this but I know I will come around¡­ Eventually, perhaps, maybe.


    This would stop hundreds of thousands of battlefields and lead to a massive loss in territory but that was without taking into consideration that the Infinite Empire was already in a grand party doing the same. Its assault had been for quite some time far less¡­ How to say, intense. What Morai-Heg said was only the confirmation of why it had been the case.


    "That is an adequate development.", Asuryan said with satisfaction before mentally sending us extensively detailed and precise information for the next half an hour on what had been proposed and also sharing that the Old Ones agreed to hunker down and sent several delegates to fight for us to work around.


    "But there is much more to converse upon. Let''s start with Vaul, as your great project to catalyze and amplify my ever-burning psychic flame bore fruit?", he continued and after this, the council went for the equivalent of half a day as we set a strategy weaving on thousands of plans with direct input from the Great Council.


    What followed after were the preparations for the battle both on a global and personal scale for every last individual, from the smallest of Krork to Great Old Ones. This went on until it all reached a screeching halt when the fated time was made known in the most violent of ways causing my study to be interrupted and my plates of pastries to fall.

 17. The Beginning of Armageddon

    "What an exceptional period to witness and participate in, the honor that befell me is truly great. The end of an era, an eternal war between gods, deities, and demons coming to its climax, the beginning of changes to an unpredictable future rich in history and monuments. If only I still had a digestive tract to nourish myself while I observe this spectacle that is to ensue.", a smooth masculine almost suave voice exited the body of a tall, and imposing Necron Overlord as he observed with two neon green eyes the great expanse of pure nothingness of the lowest meta-dimension of the Milky Way.


    The Ghostwind, the Shattered Void, or the Realm of Nihility among many more names and titles. A dimension not even the Old Ones knew of its existence with certainty besides incomplete and abandoned theories from various studies on the Well of Eternity. It was a realm that was both one yet not, it defied existence itself, it embodied disembodiment and the absence of nothing and everything.


    It could be compared to the Sea of Souls for it interfered with the laws of reality but whereas one played with them and created new ones to distort anew the Ghostwind was the absence of all, these laws and concepts did not exist here for they were not welcomed and antithetical to its very existence. It was a realm of absolute order where supreme nothingness reigned.


    It was the case for one simple reason, this dimension was one of the many fragments of the birth of the Universe. Fragments that were incomprehensibly older than the Fundamental Laws themselves for they were present before the Big Bang.


    In many ways it could also be compared to the Labyrinth Dimension, it did not obey the rule of Realspace and could be used as a way of superluminal travel if one far, far more dangerous than even plunging into the depths of the Sea of Souls were Neverborn predators beyond numbers laid. While one would distort and corrupt what existed the others would erase for all that held the travelers and their ships within will not be burdened anymore by the laws and concepts that made them.


    And it wasn''t that it was lacking in predators either, it was that the predators were not prisoners of it.


    Trazyn the Infinite was the name and title of this powerful Necron Overlord shuddered after those words he spoke, a feeling of absolute terror welled up inside his Necrodermis body as he shifted his skeletal hand through the wind of nothingness.


    The only reason his existence was not extinguished was the blessing of the Star Gods protecting the Scythe-class Reaper Ship he was on and the vast majority of the totality of the Eternal Empire fleet around. It was their place of origin after all, but each C''tan could live freely within this place where cold did not even exist.


    The C''tan were those predators turned from star parasites, born of the Ghostwind at the moment of creation if the word of Mephet''ran the Deceiver were to be believed. Even if the Necron God of Manipulation wasn''t able to tell lies and verity from his very own words, his schemes were impossible to comprehend by even himself.


    "How will our victory shine upon the Tapestry of the Universe, I wonder? My rival had been far too silent¡­ Mayhaps pestering him should prove to be a great source of answer.", Trazyn said with extreme curiosity.


    His equivalent of eyes burning brighter before dimming slightly in a complex series of dulled emotions at the sight of the monstrous creature at the head of the fleet.


    Its atrophied body was composed of skinless sinuous synthetic muscle and rusted metal, its back was created with blades draped in rotting skin. It had four limbs with too many joints serving both arms and legs and ending in separated claws that were held limply. Its face was composed of two dark ghostly eyes and needle teeth on an ever-open lipless maw leading to a bottomless gullet of rotating fangs.


    This was Llandu''gor the Flayer, Necron God of Famine and he was the one leading the Infinite Empire through this desolate realm for he was the most knowledgeable and experienced in traveling the Ghostwind within his godly brethren. None rivaled him in navigating through that dimension and if not for the current situation he would not have shown how experienced he was in this ''art''.


    The fleet composed of billions upon billions of Cruisers, technologically altered heavenly bodies, and space stations suddenly stopped, the fluid motion that was akin to one living organism freezing in time as Llandu''gor did a second prior.


    Then he spoke, his voice distorted, rattling yet unsettling soft but as strident as metal scraping against metal with an air of sardonic amusement and obscene excitement, "We HAVe REAchEd OuR DestINATIon, lET uD RIp, aNd TeAR OUr fRAIl ENeMy, lET''s StRIke tRUE At tHEir MoSt vULNeraBLe. DeATh iS fAR LoNg oVErdUe ANd tHeIR SOul uNdEServInG oF tHe WarM cOnFIne BrOUght By THeiR soFT SUcCuleNt FLesH."


    He spread his desiccated arms wide, long serrated fingers forming into fans of shredded skin as he manipulated the absence within the Ghostwind creating clouds of rust from every pores of his form.


    "Indeed! Let''s enter their domain of flimsy imagination and bring smoldering wrath upon them, immolating their bodies, minds, and souls! Their fates are to burn in brimstone ash and baleful fire as we consume their delicious tormented essence!", a distinct ever so feminine yet gritty voice echoed with twisted passions of another C''tan followed.


    Her flamboyant figure brighter than any star took the scene as she invoked innumerable sweltering stones the size of small planets and particular geometry for her to create a portal. A Dolmen Gate of size and power never seen before.


    This was Nyadra''zatha the Burning One, Necron Goddess of Conflict, her vaguely feminine body of white incandescent flame, her head crowned with a pair of great recurved horns while her lower body was segmented and serpentine and made of blackened Necrodermis.


    "Spread, infest, and infect we will¡­ Multiply, grow, and consume we must¡­ The hated enemy weaken we must, and defense destroys we will¡­", another voice followed, this one chittering and skittering and of many mouths as the one originating of it manifested with a swarm of black and toxic green streaming in front of the gargantuan portal like moths to a bonfire


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    It was a massive elongated body of Necrodermis full of pupil-less green eyes, and wide open circular maws from which eldritch arthropods and germs of living metals squirmed while hundreds of tentacles whipped the void. The head at the front possessed one large eye brighter than all others, a pair of crooked black mandible leading to a gaping jaw of recurved teeth brimming with insectoid life, four thin and small arms were grew bellow, two backward with hands, and two forward ending in scythes.


    Iash''uddra the Endless Swarm, the Necron Goddess of Pestilence, was not the last to come as the one that did was the strongest of them all, the most powerful of all C''tan, and the leader of their temporary alliance, Mag''ladroth the Void Dragon, Necron God of Technology.


    His body was truly gigantic, far larger than any of the past three C''tan and they were among the largest of their kind besides being the most powerful aside from Mag''ladroth and the now-deceased Necron God of Death that would have composed their quartet of Death, Famine, Pestilence and Conquest, the four pillar concept of the ancient Necromtyr theology.


    His title of Void Dragon held true to his appearance, scales of silvery Necrodermis covering a muscular draconic body held together by radiating green wisp of light. A head boring backward facings and curved horn, jaws with shining metallic teeth barred to the world, two glowing eyes of malevolent light containing an alien intelligence equal only by a very select few.


    Thereafter was a mighty neck of corded metallic plate turning into a six-limbed elegant yet bulky beastly body, two demonic wings spread to their full glory, four barreled limbs ending in digitigrade paws capable of crushing, and at the end was a long tail of serrated spikes.


    "Hateful, meek, foolish arrogant cowardly creatures using powers that are not theirs to command, cowering behind their little guardian puppets in all of their forms for they only know fear in their innate weakness. They are the Old Ones, and their time has come for their reign upon the stars to come to an ultimate end.", Mag''ladroth began with a smile upon his jaws, his voice rumbling and deep echoing through the dark nothingness of the Ghostwind as he flew to the incandescent Dolmen Gate.


    Lifting a clawed hand thousands of kilometers long prism of pure darkness cared with mysterious symbols manifested into a precise circular formation as the C''tan said darkly, "They knew of our arrival, they knew of their imminent demise but not the method and time it shall happen. Terror grips their hearts and minds at this unknown factor; they await their rightful judgment with lackluster bravado clustered into fragile bastions of vainglory. Their greatest strength shall become their downfall as betrayal awaits them from power that never was theirs to command, it shall turn them to hapless prey with for singular purpose to satisfy our endless appetite for we will feast until nothing remains."


    At those words, the four C''tan moved energy beyond that of any stars coursing through their body of Necrodermis as they finished the ultimate preparation.


    Simultaneously their soulless slaves of metals were hard at work with weaker C''tan doing much the same, antimatter beam charged, gravitational singularity beam crackling, and matter suppression cannon. Most important of all was the Null Obelisks charging to be powered up, one the largest of all located on a planet that in an alternate distant future would have at its destruction split the galaxy in two.


    At the same time in one of the many spaceports of the Celestian Enclave was a male Aeldari wrapped in a complex set of robes, he was one of the billions upon billions of others here, if higher ranked than most. His current duty was to verify the glyph matrix composing the main engine of the Shadow-class cruiser he was in was working as intended and that all wards were at their full.


    A soft frown made its way into his inhuman charming feature, at this the heavily armored Aeldari behind him asked with a hint of worry by a precise mix of her voice, psychic pulse, and body movement, "Is something of the matter esteemed Arch-Runeweaver Vanir? Is there any problem with Elact''ingrah?"


    "No, no there is not, High Helmer Malessa. Your ''Elact''ingrah'' is more than in an adequate state for the successful operations of ''his'' most vital functions.", Vanir conveyed, making sure to emphasize ''Elact''ingrah'' and ''his'' for he understood how unpleasant her kind of people could become about this aspect of life.


    There was a psychic collection and some Cruisers could be considered ''living'' by certain standards but to anthropomorphize them. That was something he couldn''t understand but it wasn''t the time to start an asinine debate on this. Luckily it was a philosophy shared within only a minority group, to this extreme degree that is.


    "No, I fear this is something dramatically in opposition to your earlier thoughts High Helmer Malessa. Close your eyes and attire yourself to the great flows of unreality, do you perceive it through the grand tapestry of the Sea of Souls?", he gestured and her eyes exposed through the open visor of her helmet closed before widening before settling on a heavy but resigned expression.


    Vanir closed his eyes, long elegant fingers behind paper-thin silk clutched an amulet of gold dangling from his neck. It was a medallion taking the form of a golden ring containing five straight lines of gold crossing each other in a way that made a five-pointed star, the upper tip connecting to the chain.


    It was a sacred symbol of the highest order, one that in recent times had spread far and beyond in the Aeldari society and that of others of the lesser Young Races such as the barbaric Krork. If something akin to society could even be translated for them and the mere thought of those green creatures desecrating his God-image brought the Arch-Runeweaver''s fury beyond what he knew he could experience.


    It was the holy symbol of the Archdjinni of the Ring, the Aeldari God to which Vanit was the most devoted even if his profession would suggest it would to the Forgebound or the Phoenix King and it would be true but both deities did not convey his domain of expertise, runic language, to that degree of compatibility.


    Also, Hoopa was simply far more proactive and responding, since his first appearance and the legendary battle that ensued he had been nigh omnipresent in every major battle granting blessings to the worthy. The medallion in his hand was proof of it, a blessing from the Aeldari God of Magic himself, an artifact entirely composed of runes so complex and advanced yet so simple in design he could barely begin to fathom their depth.


    A perpetual spell given material form with true purposes unknown to all but its creator, a proof of the acknowledgment and approval given to true believers.


    Malessa was no different, she had the same symbols on the pauldron of her armor but also a different one on the opposite shoulder. As a High Helmer, captain of her personal flag spaceship and its subsequent fleet. Her worship spread within encompasses all the Aeldari Pantheon like any true Aeldar should but it was focused on Khaine and Hoopa, one for the blessing within battle to a victory and the other for a swift and successful journey.


    "May we mee-", Vanir''s prayer was violently interrupted by the ground he was on shaking to the point he was thrown off balance and flung to the opposite wall, before he could understand what happened he was warped away in a flash of light and deep purple at the same time his medallion brightened in his hand.


    As for Melessa, she caught herself with a telekinetic blast before landing gracefully and teleporting herself into the captain seat of her Cruiser central command room, the pentacle edged on her shoulder glowing light purple as she did so.


    The first thing she saw through the room''s psychic screens caused her porcelain skin to lose all color, her eyes to widen, far too large pupils to become two small dots and her body to feel both existential dread and righteous wrath, the latter of which overpowered the former as the second symbol on her shoulder lit up red.


    In the far distance was an ocean from every direction stretching far beyond what her eyes and any of her equipment could perceive. It was countless tides of ever-shifting cold grey, smooth obsidian black, and baleful glowing toxic green pouring from all possible directions through portals of flaming stones from a dimension that made her every sense scream in distress, the longer she looked the longer the sensation of being gazed back grew.


    A tide of soulless machinery that whipped all that was of the Sea of Soul with its presence. Null Obelisks in the millions at their full power the source of it, but this time they did not banish all psychic power from Realspace, they promoted the abyss from which they came using it as a battering ram against the Celistian Enclave from everywhere.


    Only to suddenly stop at the manifestation of multilayered psychic gilded shields entirely coated in impenetrably dark runes made of an anomalous substance that obeyed no rules. A recurring pattern of ornate pentacles could be found, but it was only the most often seen symbol as all sacred imagery of all Aeldari Gods could be found infused each with their divine might.


    This stopped death and insanity from claiming most if not all of the Young Races, yet strain could be seen and it was of little doubt the barriers would hold but it was also clear they would, could not hold forever under the rapidly rising firepower assaulting them.


    Then a psychic surge of potency never felt before burgeoned into the hammering heart of all and the powerful words of Phoenix King were seared into the deepest layer of their very souls, "The awaited time has come! Let the emotions flow through you unimpeded into a singularity that declares the doom of our hated foes as the shole absolute verity! Let my fire, wisdom, and knowledge give you the power deserved to fight and burn in glorious righteous wrath until not even true death, and the most grievous wound shall fail you from enforcing your most holy duty!"

 18. Blessing of the Gods

    "-preclude you from enforcing your most holy duty!", not even had the words finished ranging in the minds of every member of the Young Races that five massive golden rings manifested at precise locations within the outer layer of the Celestian Enclave.


    From the first ring flew with her majestic feathery wings of pearly white, the Maiden, Lileath. In her left hand was a short bow that appeared to be made of living constellations. In her right one was an arrow that seemed to be confectioned from the brightest stars, and without any ceremony or words she blessed the mortals. Their true dreams and hopes of all began to be granted, bending reality and unreality to turn mere thought into tangible aspects of their life.


    The second was her father, the Lord of the Beasts, Kurnous. Druidic carvings glowed a vibrant green over his heavily muscled bare torso and similarly no words but a deep growl escaped his throat. At this moment, primordial yet controlled instincts flowed through the systems of all pushing and breaking limits not even known, turning the less gifted of them into creatures working as one with their very nature unburdened by mortal constraints on their potential.


    The third was the Laughing God, Cegorach, his insane cackles resonating far and wide, his cloak body moving in non-existent winds as with a snap of his finger and small tapdance another miracle happened. A frigid sensation flowed through the mind of every mortal sharpening their wits, though too complex for them before now flowing in abandon at gaits they never knew was feasible.


    The fourth to step out was the Merciful Mother, Isha, her presence brought serenity and mended all wounds of both physical and metaphysical nature. Her tears were not flowing, replaced by wrath only a mother would have at imminent danger to her children''s well-being and life itself. And so with a flick of her staff, the soft rings of bells echoed, and boundless vitality and life force flowed bringing the most aged to their prime and beyond.


    The fifth was the Crone, Morai-Heg. All of of her three heads exhibited a visage of severity yet confidence as the threads of Fate at the tips of her fingers were weaved under her ministration forming a complex tapestry of golden thread gifting each mortal the limited sight of glimpses at their past, present and future the latter of which most prominent.


    The sixth was the last one''s Consort, the Bloody-Handed God, Khaine. His body of bronze armor covered in crimson red flame, his god-killing blade Widowmaker in hand he roared in murderous wrath like a maddened animal freed from its chain. His wordless intonation bathed all in the blood of war granting strength beyond physically feasible and infusing them with the true essence of war in both martial arts, tactics, and purpose. Turning young and inexperienced into hardened veterans of the most violent and gruesome and promoting warriors into demi-gods of violence and war.


    The last to enter the scene out was the owner of the golden portals, the Archdjinni of the Rings, Hoopa. On his face was a snarling smile revealing all of his pure white fangs, his presence caused reality to quake and fold under his gaze as refined psychic energy mesmerizingly flowed out of his six hands.


    With a silent snap of fingers his boons befell the mortals, first was the secret of the arcane, spells beyond reason and power with the knowledge and experience of using them anchored themselves in their minds. But it was only half of his blessing, the second part of it was a weightless cloak of all-encompassing darkness warping around them in the shapes of robes and armor granting both immense defense, agility, and the ability to travel in the shadow.


    His appearance signaled the end of the Phoenix King''s sermon, and as it did the Thrones Room below was put ablaze in a blinding inferno of the purest psychic might. Geysers of white flame burst everywhere from crevices shifting into trillions of threads that connected to all soul-bearing creatures.


    As the bunting thread mingled with ones of darkness, the power of the Sea of Souls was given to those weak in it and to those who already had promoted it to an unthinkable level. Turning the weakest of psyker equal to a candlelight in darkness to a burning bonfire.


    But it was only one fraction of it, as with it also came a sense of immense yet measured pride, of unbreakable duty to serve beyond the claws of death, and of ever-burning loyalty to the Aeldari Gods. These blessings were not forbidden from those of non-Aeldari nature, there was no discrimination. Even if they were not as receptive as the true people of the Aeldari Pantheon.


    As the burning psychic power of the Godking settled in the souls of the mortals with the previous blessings his image manifested in all its regalty, like his twin brother his body was fused to his armor and radiated power beyond the realm of reality. Though unlike the former his aura was ruled yet not restrained rolling out in constant waves demanding absolute devotion to all that gaze upon his godly form.


    He was sitting on a massive golden throne at the summit of a ziggurat made of similar material, markings burning with his eternal flame amplifying his power to a point he overshadowed all. He was a beacon, a conflagration of smoldering righteous fire ready to lash out and destroy all that was deemed unworthy of existing in his presence. The stars that made his burning eyes impassively observed his subjects with majesty and the absolute authority of a supreme sovereign.


    If not for the blessing of the Aeldari God of Darkness the subjects'' very essence would have been erased by this pure presence and flame licking their souls and bodies for it was one enough to light the Sea of Souls alight and purify it of its malevolent denizen and the nascent reality tumors. Alas, it was not to be used in such a way today.


    It was a delicate balance between conflicting powers, each blessing was the piece of a puzzle connected forming a solid foundation. They played a major role in the receptacle''s ability to sustain such a vast amount of power being funneled through them without turning to kaleidoscopic ash or becoming moaning and mindless abominations oh so frequently found in the Sea of Souls.


    "Show of¡­", and said Aeldari God of Darkness scoffed under his breath at the sight, not enraptured or even impressed even to the tiniest extent unlike ones below him by this little play and even some of his brethren.


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    Hoopa knew the truth behind this mighty show of force, and it wasn''t as pretty as it looked. This was not the Phoenix King''s power, this was not only artificially augmented by using the throne he was on but also borrowed from an external source. It was a cheat at best, a very outstanding one but a cheat nonetheless.


    It was using the power of the Labyrinth Dimensions as an energy source and even beyond, it purified it into pure psychic essence that was then meddled with the user''s own, it then went by countless other processes to be ultimately channeled back to the user as a hyper condensed psychic energy. And this was only one of the throne functions for it was at the heart of the Celestian Enclave both in location and purpose.


    It was the project Vaul had been working on, the Zenith Dominion. A masterpiece of creation that Hoopa and a select few Old Ones and Great Old Ones had worked on as well even if more as an assistant than master artisan.


    The revelation of the rapidly approaching calamity led to pressure demanding the project to be finished fast. This prompted them to participate but also to do some work the Aeldari God of Smiths couldn''t do alone. Such as using the anomalous and inimical energy the Archdjinni was the sole generator to be used as a kind of isolant.


    But there was one important nugget of information, there was no small percentile of Necron technology used in it. It would ruffle more than a few feathers even if Asuryan was the Godking.


    Though technically it was of the technology of the Old Ones too, even then it used principles found only in the designs of the soulless automatons, or more accurately their insidious masters.


    The haste to which it was finished meant it wasn''t up to Vaul''s standard and why he wasn''t here aside from the fact he was far from the best of fighters. He wasn''t the worst at least in martial art in the Pantheon but he had far better uses not on the battlefield.


    It was why the Forgebound was not here but it was the same all around the Celestian Enclave for most of the support units of his variety, their presence on a battlefield would be counterproductive in the vast majority. Their roles varied from controlling gestalt turrets to repairing the stress ongoing thanks to strain put by outside interference on the shields and many more.


    ''Anyway, it does not matter since after this I likely won''t see him for a looooonnng time.'', Hoopa shook his head in dismissal, the battle had already begun in ample strides, bridges of ethereal light had grown from the ground, and shot in every conceivable direction yet did not impede spaceships, it was a similar situation for all the projectile shot, psychically inclined or not.


    To put it into simple words, collision, and friendly fire could be put on hold and shifted smartly for each individual. A spellcraft Hoopa was particularly proud of, it was running at the back of his mind while being fueled by the Phoenix King''s virtually unlimited psychic might. An over-prideful battery, the Archdjinni might add. To say it was one of his most complex ones would be true but it was limited to the Celestian Enclave and the registered entities of the spell.


    It was an inspiration taken from ''video games'' and how their physics lacked realism, most of the little knowledge he kept was of direct little use like the resemblance to the incandescent throne and the throne of a super psychic human from the future. But it gave something invaluable, ideas a plethora of ideas he would have never considered otherwise, and as a spell caster of his caliber, this made an immense difference.


    What followed was the essence of pandemonium itself in its purest form.


    It made the entire battlefield which was already a cluster of absolute chaos and bright light with enough psychic power in the air to rival and surpass most of the Sea of Souls into something beyond words in sounds, shapes, and colors.


    This without the priors gifts would have been counterproductive but it wasn''t the case and so all knew how to take full advantage of this potent spell, and their full firepower without pauses rained onto the hated enemy past the barriers.


    Each and every attack was phasing through the barriers unimpeded while also being coated in colorless darkness protecting them against the influence of the nullification fields but also the silent howls of Ghostwind. A variable that hadn''t been accounted for but that for the moment seemed to change little.


    Yet it was still a worry in the heart of many but not to Hoopa, oh it was a great surprise but from what he could garner its effect on the anomalous energy he was the source of didn''t truly differ from all others he had met before. And as most things were in this Universe that mattered was not exclusively the type of energy alone, the trifecta of purity, concentration, and quantity was equally if not more important.


    The only variation was that this realm of nothingness was far, far more aggressive in attacking his ''darkness'' than Reality and the Sea of Souls in addition to attacking those last two as well. It was akin to a primordial beast of all-consuming hunger with only goals of consuming and assimilating all that was not itself.


    An obvious parallel could be drawn however it was not the place nor the time for that. A C''tan was attacking the barriers above him, a deathly pale and thin creature. It had a completely featureless Necrontir body, from crotch to faceless visage, and hundreds of faces could be seen silently screaming, squirming, and shifting under its obscenely expendable skin.


    "Kalugura the Silent Cry huh? Faces not even a mother would dare to look at.", Hoopa said, recognizing what that was with mild disgust, it was a foul twisted creature in both appearance and purpose whatever that was likely some kind of extreme form of schizophrenia, or body dysmorphia, or both and more.


    Necron Gods from all he saw represented the worst facets of mortality, all horrific to varying degrees and Kalugura was quite high on the ladder. If there were that represented positive things he didn''t know but that would be a revelation of unparalleled shock.


    "Begone tortured abomination.", were the only words that left his mouth before warping right in front of the first outer layer of shielding, his six hands moved hypnotically in the psychically rich air drawing the shape of a pentacle made of pure darkness and potent psychic energy weaved to perfection together.


    Five of his wide-open hands were on each of the five points of the star while the last one was in the middle. Then from his hand, six sharpened chains shot outward digging into the wrinkled skin, one penetrated the forehead, two respectively the right and left hands while two others did the same for the two feet, the last one perforated the chest to explode out of the back.


    The rain of death from the two sides did not stop as this event unfolded, Necron, Aeldari, Krork, and beyond were solely focused on the destruction of their hated enemy. The incoming true death of a C''tan was too small of a matter to be noticed in this bedlam beyond any reasonable metrics that had become the battlefield.


    It did not stop as Kalugura''s hundreds of bulging skin visages froze before screaming more powerfully than ever in their eternal silence. This time however it was with true emotion born from seering agony, horror at the incoming fate, and existential at the realization of its implication. Emotions only being of lesser status should be condemned to undergo.


    It did not stop as the chains of darkness and arcane flooded the Necrodermis flesh with their corrosive paradoxical essence in endless yet meticulous torrents overpowering all Kalugura''s flimsy unprepared defense, imprisoning the C''tan in its fake body it used to tarnish Realspace as its godly powers were neutered to near uselessness.


    It did not stop as the chains were railed in with one mighty inward yank leading to the hooked tip at the end of the chain to dig thereby locking themselves in the star parasite and stopping all potential attempts of escape.


    It did not stop as the circle of the pentacle morphed into a golden loop, the space within rippling as a portal manifested. A gate leading to the Star God''s ultimate doom, a gate to the lowest Abyss of Hell itself, the beginning and end of all, the Well of Eternity.


    However, this fate was not to be.


    "nO, MinE!", a distorted voice akin to hard stones being ground reverberated from everywhere and nowhere. Simultaneously space rippled, cracked, and was torn asunder by a gargantuan maw of spinning serrated teeth covered in dried blood, putrefied flesh, and tattered skin, leading to a gaping bottomless throat of equally monstrous fangs.


    Then without Hoopa having the time to do anything the jaws snapped shut, his chains resisting for what appeared to be an eternity until one shattered and the entire spell broke apart, the exposed psychic energy immediately whipped away by the combined might of countless Null Obelisk and the Ghostwind.


    The last action of the C''tan was a pathetic and silent wail of the most primal and mindless emotion of fear and pain as it was devoured, its essence purified from its corruption and absorbed. A demented chuckle soon followed from the devourer before it spoke.


    "YOu ArE nEXt KillEr-aNOmALy-DEfiLer fOR i''M HuNGeR InCArnATE, aND I CrAVe FoR YOur fLeSh, BLoOd, aNd SoUl.", Llandu''gor the Flayer declared before his presence utterly vanished into the winds yet Hoopa knew the C''tan was still here, waiting and ready to pounce.

 19. Siege of the Celestian Enclave

    The Aledari God of Magic glowered where the jaws of the Necron God of Famine had manifested. His eyes were bright with psychic power, as a rumbling growl of frustration escaped his throat causing the air to vibrate.


    Then he approached the limits of the shields. He then proclaimed loudly while scanning his surroundings, "Run, run from me, run little parasite, that is all you are worth."


    The response to his taunt came promptly and in the most direct form, a clawed hand seemingly composed of rusted metal snapped into reality, it was coated in malevolent pale orange that consumed all. As if the masterfully crafted shields were all but flimsy wet paper it perforated them all, the thin sharp fingers stretching far beyond what physically was possible at subluminal velocity.


    The Achrdjinni of the Rings stood still, his muscles unmoving, his body as if frozen in terror but it couldn''t be farther from the truth. At the very last instant before the claws could rip his head off a golden ring manifested, and the telegraphed attack was teleported away.


    Another ring manifested above the continuation of the hand, the arm of Star God, skewering it on itself at such an angle that trying to retract the limb became all but a technical impossibility. The recurved spine on the digits did little to help.


    There was a howl of pain that traversed the veil of the Ghostwind but it wasn''t brought by the C''tan''s self-stabbing act. The source of the chilling agony was six chain blades covered in hooked spikes themselves covered with smaller hooks in a never-ending cycle inscribed with millions of microscope runes digging in.


    "Isn''t it unpleasant? I greatly hope it is the case.", Hoopa asked rhetorically with a large fanged smirk, yanking the weapon-shaped spellcraft with one mighty tug with the two hands that were casting the chains, three chains held in each.


    It was a sealing spell using his dark energy, quite simply to the one he had used on the Silent Cry. A spell that was far from his most destructive warcraft but one needed for C''tan to be killed with great care and delicateness. There was a protocol to follow when eliminating creatures that embodied aspects of Realspace.


    A continuous howl followed. The Flayer tried and failed to retract his limb. Limitless powers that should grant the ability to shapeshift and phase to different planes of reality were in a losing conflict to the surge of psychic and darkness pumped in by every little blade of the steel digging into his Necrodermis flesh.


    Then with a louder howl, it all stopped like a fisherman having his line cut on a sharp rock, the fish that was caught fleeing deep in the abyss.


    ''Oh¡­ He cut his arm¡­ And forfeited all that was within it and turned it into a hand-made bomb...'', Hoopa thought both impressed and annoyed as felt the limb he was railing suddenly go limp and all the force behind him flung it with enough force to crack planets open.


    Luckily his reaction was fast, beyond the realm of mortals and he caught it in another ring that led to a temporarily frozen and highly warded room of the Vault, his secret stash. For what precise uses? He didn''t know yet, it was done on the fly but it could prove useful and at worst it could become a rather spectacular decoration.


    "EnOUgH oF tHIs trIcKErY AnOMalY!", llandu''gor screeched, his voice besmeared in his aura devouring the shields enough for him to kill thousands and gravely injure millions of thousands below.


    Their only saving grace was the Merciful Mother''s blessing and even then she could not heal from nonexistence and the ones that died were gone in the most absolute sense of the word, their essence to the very concept of their existence devoured. But that was nothing but fractals of fractals of the population below, a handful of sand disappearing from a desert.


    After those words, the Necron God''s presence completely vanished, but it resurfaced a few seconds later ever-present around the Celestian Enclave. Fingers ending in vile claws, jagged fangs, and spine blades hueing a dimly bright orange, ripping holes into Realspace to eat through the arcane shields in a mad whirlwind of fervent hunger.


    However many of those attacks never met their intended targets for golden rings manifested in their path and thousands of paradoxical chains were shot from them. Alas unlike before the Flayer reacted and many of his body parts vanished before the spells hit it.


    As for the one hits, the chains'' purpose in dragging the hooked target became meaningless as all the Necrodermis body parts without fault detached themselves the next instant from the greater whole of the C''tan. Then they exploded into rains of primordial hunger that devoured all in their proximity.


    Simultaneously the body parts that had disappeared reappeared at others'' emplacements doing much the same, starting a cycle where the Aeldari God defended and the Necron God attacked.


    The one defending was only delegating a portion of his mind to the task. Using the same spell and tactic again and again with only minute corrections for he was fighting an animal that lost nearly all inhibition, making it both unpredictable and predictable.


    In addition to acclimating himself to the relations between this dimension of nothingness to Realspace that was forced on by the thousand of Null Obelisk. There was no teleportation involved unlike him, it was similar to the Labyrinth Dimension, using shortcuts to artificially reduce travel time from one point to another.


    It could be tracked even without the knowledge of the Ghostwind, patterns were repeated and then predicted, unlike the chaotic Sea of Souls. Absolute order reigned here, his domain over the concept of ''Travel'' only aiding in the matter. It meant the one attacking suffered progressively more damage that could be fought off and recovered.


    However this would require patience and one-minded focus, two things he was currently in great lack of to purge this paradoxical mixture flowing in his body in its totality. The psychic energy posed little problem, nullification fields of the Obelisks or even the Ghostwind sufficed even if it wouldn''t mean it was healed. He was doing it even, letting them flow through him but the dark alien substance was something far worse.


    It couldn''t be purged using brute force, it was vicious, intelligent, aggressive, and resistant digging deeply into his very essence causing waves of agony to surges. Trying to expel it in such a crude manner would only worsen things.


    The devouring of the Silent Cry was entirely different, he didn''t have to be careful and his stomach was where his power was strongest.


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    The only effective method was to quarantine the infected parts and do much the same as he did with one of his arms, self-amputation followed by detonation with all the energy stored.


    This greatly damaged the shield, pelting it with reality-warping bombs of maddening hunger made manifest for the Archdjinni could not block them all, but it came with a heavy price for the C''tan.


    It was a constant trickle down of power, each little droplet lost from the ocean of energy and concept the Flayee was, each lost increasing his further hunger rising to heights beyond comprehension. Yet it seldom mattered, what a little bit of effort but a way to enhance the taste of a future meal? Delectable flesh was aplenty, if work was needed to get it then so be it.


    Still, his rage equaled his hunger and for Hoopa this was good, it made the predictable creature of maddening hunger even more so. The increasing understanding of the dimensional relation between the Ghostwind and the twisted one of Reality and Unreality only aids in the matter.


    It wasn''t teleportation like him, merely short cut through another layer of reality, quite like the Labyrinth Dimension, and as such the Flayer could not attack at every place from any distance. It was only an illusion that he was doing.


    However this divine game of whack-a-mole was not happening in a vacuum, it was only a fraction of the cathartic beldam that would affect the fate of countless trillions for the coming eons. On the edges of the multi-layered shields other Gods both Necron and Aeldari in origin, were fighting in the most cataclysmic of battles with the goals of their mutual annihilation.


    "Foul aberration die!", Lileath hollered as an arrow of dream-made reality empowered by the potent psychic energy of Asuryan was shot from her now before duplicating itself into a thousand more.


    The target of her wrath was Iash''uddra the Endless Swarm, her worm-like body of dark green color covered in pulsating insects and gaping maw hissed and chittered harshly.


    Her ever-shifting tentacles lashed out and swarms of skittering insects flew, parrying hundreds of arrows yet hundreds burned through her Necrodermis hide. From those gaping holes never never-ending surges of arthropods their shapes varied but all of many mandibles and legs.


    They jumped, skittered, crawled, and flew, covering the Necron Goddess of Pestilence in their countless articulated bodies, swarming their mother in a cloak of moving black and glowing green chitin, tentacles rolling below like waves upon the sea.


    "Infect¡­", clicking of many mandibles echoed from behind this living cloud, "Multiply¡­", snapping of legs and buzzing of wings, "Spread¡­ And grow¡­", as the words were spoken simultaneously from hundreds of mouths the Star God acted, faster than the Aeldari Goddess of Dream could ever hope to react.


    Three tentacles snapped outward to the shields breaking through the runes as the sitting vermins adorning the limbs shifted all that they touched into perfect replicas of themselves destroying all in their path.


    All that Lileath could do was widen her eyes, their color switching to a ruler shin as horror gripped her feature at her incoming grim fate. A silent scream of unknown emotion escaped her throat as the first tentacle penetrated her lower abdomen cutting right through her armor before exploding in a swarm of legged maggots within her guts.


    The second did the same to her right shoulder blade, insects writhing below and digging in flesh to multiply. The third was the coup de grace spearing her left eye and exploding on the other side of her helmeted head in a horrifying shower of bone fragments, multicolored brain matter, and golden blood.


    There was no mockery or taunt from the Endless Swarm as Lileath''s face began to crack, gold ichor turning to black sand, the thin smile full of regret slowly ebbing away on the Aeldari Goddess as parasite and disease claimed her.


    Yet in an instant, it all changed. A deranged grin split the dying goddess'' face, only when it reached up to her eyes did it stop and as it did a cackle exploded from her and all around with the sound of clapping and laughter.


    "Ow, you got me! Bravo! Triple penetration, eh? I like it.", she spoke like a broken record, her voice shifting to something deeper yet not distinctively male either, the body cracking further and further as if it was a clay doll revealing a cloth puppet with imaginary strings of light, "Do you want a hug or play who can embrace harder? Or maybe a surprise present?!"


    Before Iash''uddra could unlatch her tentacles, having realized her mistake, the traps sprung open. A large pentacle manifested behind the damaged puppet, glowing a dark purple from its star tips, and its middle six ebony chains shot outward.


    As if possessing a mind of their own the chains aimed themselves at the C''tan, three of their wickedly sharp hooked heads akin to the most horrific of harpoons dug themselves into the three tentacles while the remaining three flew at unprecedented speed toward her main body.


    Alas, the Endless Swarm had felt what had occurred to her brethren and as the least emotional of them all, she reacted most appropriately. Immediately she cut off the tentacles that were chained making them explode into three distinct swarms of insects while she retreated, her body splitting into billions of fragments.


    She dodged the chains'' onslaught in its almost entirety but a few still injured her, the darkness within attacking her essence making her emit thousands of shrill screeches from her hundreds of mouths as backed off further.


    Her swarms only grew in size and density as her attack became tenfold more aggressive yet even more careful. Her targets changed from the Aeldari Gods to the shields yet there was no reason to stop assailing them for she was the Endless Swarm and she knew when was the perfect time to strike.


    "Didn''t go exactly as planned¡­ Oh well¡­", Cegorach mumbled in disappointment, his lopsided frown shifting to a cheery grin as from his two gloved hands were cloth puppets similar to the one that had exploded. Puppets he confectioned with a surprise from his favorite brother within.


    "Niece, brother, and sister would you please be of assistance to my poor self? Let''s partake in one of the most entertaining family activities, murder!", he exclaimed, vanishing in a cloud of pink smoke leaving one of the puppets behind that mimicked him to perfection.


    And right where he once was reality bent, space was torn asunder tentacles warped in disease-filled maws, and flies shot outward barely. However, at the very last instant, they dodged his little goodbye gift before fleeing dodging the vast majority of the dark chains.


    In the distance, the true Lileath was powerfully beating her large wings dodging a cloud of winged arachnid centipede hybrid as she retaliated by raining down apocalypse with dream-filled arrows.


    There was no need for the Laughing God words for him to attack, the sight of her puppet she had swapped places with an image anchored forever more in her mind. And in equal measure to her mother and father, if even more so.


    Kurnous was moving between the never-ending attack, in his hand was a baton carved with mystical runes of which on top and bottom was a pentacle, primordial instincts and technique honed beyond that of any others flowed through his being.


    Each of the Lord of the Beasts'' movements was of utmost perfection and with devastating effect upon his foe, each micro-movement generating shockwaves fueled with darkness and pure psychic energy that would rip continents plate apart exchanged in a continuous flow reminiscent of both a calm stream and a torrential river.


    Yet none of it would be possible if not for the Merciful Mother''s control over the very essence of life itself through which she granted him the mobility to act but also protection in the form of healing.


    But it was not Isha''s only actions, she was dancing upon flowers, her movement of unparalleled grace, as the tip of her ornate staff in her hand glowed a soft pink. The rings of bells were heard, each comprising a storm of iridescent petals turned asunder which were foes and blessed which were allies.


    Another battle was happening on the other side of the Celestian Enclave, this one far more direct and brutal as a burning blade of crimson fire and molten spear of obsidian struck one another, each sporting dramatically opposite expressions.


    "Weak, you are weaker God of Violence than last time we clashed blades together. Aza''gorod did truly wound you, how disappointing.", Nyadra''zatha the Burning One said, emphasizing the ''violence'' part, and as if to prove her point she batted his sword away with ease before thrusting her spearhead into his throat.


    Only for the spear glowing in baleful fires to miss its target as the Bloody-Handed God was brought back at the last instant to his anterior fate by his Consort, the Crone, letting him dodge the blow that would have decapitated him. He roared his eyes burning in rage as he appeared behind the Necron Goddess of Conflict. The flame of his blade turning to obsidian he struck carving a deep gash from her shoulder to her pelvis.


    She screamed, moaned, and wailed, they were ones of agony and jubilation. The injury did not bring her doubt and fear, only the opposite, excitement in obscene quantities and a thirst for more, far, far more. The mere thought of doing something different was all but an utter impossibility in her twisted mind. She couldn''t even conceive such a thing.


    "Yes, that is it! It hurts! It damages! I feel it! Yes! Yes! That is what I desire! Yet I cannot accept this generosity without giving it back in equal amounts!", she yowled in elation, her voice turning several pitches higher and her body language shifting to an excited stance, arm spread open and eyes gazing above.


    Then from the unhealable wound, her back split open further glowing a pure white for a fraction of a nanosecond before exploding omnidirectional in a blast of crimson fire hotter than any star cores in existence reaching temperatures that began to distort the space-time continuum itself.


    However, Khaine was saved from it by Morei-Hag as she brought him back to her while she cut off the fate of the reality around her from the rest of the world. Her three pairs of eyes were focused and unreadable.


    The all-consuming eternal flame of conflict burned through all in a cataclysmic conflagration. It annihilated anything and everything in its path but the Necron to which it harmlessly passed over and the two Aeldari Gods that could but watch impassively.


    As soon as the rolling waves of fire stopped the deathmatch began again between the three. But the deities of both camps battling were all but small if bright pockets of utter destruction in the chaos that was this battlefield, the battle between the Silver Tide and the Young Races was equally massive and unending.


    Then a stentorian roar resounded across the Celestian Enclave.

 20. The Shattering of Aegis

    The arcane barriers rippled as the thunderous roar reverberated through the entirety of the Celestian Enclave before echoing back and flowing through all again. As it did, shockwaves followed, ripping apart the bodies of billions while on the outside a veil of pixelated silver.


    This was the last push for the many layers of arcane shields responsible for their self-repairing and adapting capabilities that had long since reached their limits. They combined with the constant strains from the Null Obelisks and Ghostwind, and damage from both C''tan and Necron enough to make the defenses reach their tipping point.


    Not only was it the last push but it was one of extreme precision and strength focusing on weak points that had formed but all the while generating untold more. As such the protective layers separating the Celestian Enclave from the outside world cracked, and splintered before every layer simultaneously shattered in a shapeless blast of crystallized light.


    It was a spectacle of magnificence and atrociousness never seen before and that will never be seen after. A historical moment that was now forcing the uncountable beings anciently within to bear the full might of the Eternal Empire.


    The neverending tide of malevolent green glow fell on the marbled and golden divine architecture causing mayhem and apocalypse. The numerous blessings of the Aeldari Gods were unable to fight against the focused might of Necron weaponry from matter-disintegrating beams to artificial worlds engineered to collapse stars and strip the life of celestial bodies in less than seconds.


    Billions died, their bodies turning to sheer nothingness as even the subatomic particles of their bodies broke apart, their souls now unfettered swept away by the ravenous howling void and strident rules of reality. Psychic energy was banished from the air with the air itself now but a lingering beast that craves for the living.


    Yet nothing was carved in stone for the battle had only truly begun at this very moment.


    Psychic pillars of the purest white and brighter than any stars rose higher and higher, from them trillions of intricately woven cords covered in microscopic dark pentacles were made.


    Each thread was the lifeline of a brave Aeldari using his or her mastery over warpcraft and strategy to bring down destruction on hated foes by graceful and precise movement. Or large, powerful, and ferocious Krork by protecting his connection to the gestalt field of his kind, enhancing it to heights never seen before reality even in such a fixed state bending to the will of all.


    This seldom was exclusive to the members of the Young Race, all that was beyond the frozen edicts of Realspace was given a sliver of this nigh infinite ocean of the most refined psychic power. Dark runes of energy from alien nature to the Universe protect this flow of energy from being interrupted by the combined effort of the Null Obelisks and Ghostwind.


    But if not for the cumulation of blessings notably the one of the Aeldari God of Darkness these fiery silk threads would not have stopped the fatal effects that the destruction of the many shields would have led to.


    And as the war raged on between Gods, mortals, and soulless machines two of said latter were advancing within, the battlefield changing as if their mere presence affected it. No, it was as if a higher being was watching over them.


    "My, oh my, are my photonic receptors malfunctioning, or aren''t you quite the formidable specimen, green skin? It will be a true tragedy if you were to suddenly be part of my private exhibition!", the first Necron Overlord exclaimed as joyfully as a soulless machine could before throwing an innocent-looking black cube at one of the biggest Krork he ever saw in his unlife.


    "This is not the time to frolic around in your pointless bumbling insanity Trazyn.", the second Necron Overlord said with derision, his one-eyed gaze observing the harmless-looking cube move across the battlefield from his most hated enemy hand to the back of a fully armored massively muscular mycelium barbarin.


    In an instant, the cube changed into a complex machinery that stunned the Krork before generating a controlled black hole that absorbed him in a pocket space leaving behind all but a large hole. The one nearby suffered greatly from it, the unluckiest dying while some simply lost half of their bodies. The latter of the tap case however were fully healed in the next instant and created clouds of spores that sprouted Krork in the thousands nearly instantaneously and fully grown.


    "And why might you be following me, my dear Orikan? Does your cold non-existent heart beat in fright at the idea of my tragic demise? Or is it to end me yourself? If so, wouldn''t it be more acceptable to do it at another place and time.", the Trazin snarked, summoning his Tesseract Labyrinth back.


    He then threw another cube at a smaller Krork and changed perspective to a small dark pyramid hovering above him. It was a device that ranked among the best Necron cameras capable of catching touch, smell, and beyond in detail equal to reality.


    He didn''t bother to turn his head as multicolored lightings of destruction, and antimatter slugs were displaced in a divergent timeline by the self-proclaimed greatest astromancer in the galaxy he was woefully ignoring by gazing at his new object of collection.


    "That is none of your concern, half-witted kleptomaniac. I do as I desire, your presence is only but a tragic unforeseen consequence. A minor error. A faulty numeral. An insignificant mistake within my vast computation, no more no less.", the Diviner dismissed the fair accusation, and despite his lack of facial expression, the sneer could be physically felt in his mechanized voice.


    However, his singular eye gleamed a brighter green as he felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck from none other than the Devil himself. A creature to which he had potentially sworn eternal servitude for a promise he was barely certain would be kept.


    It was a message from a simple but complete code language devised between them for ease of communication, it was a little invisible tug on the ripple of time. And it told him one thing.


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    ''RETREAT


    And that is what he did. His capabilities to predict the future were greatly impaired from the birth of the last Aeldari God and only worsened here. And even if he was to be at his full capabilities there was far too much happening at once between being far above him. In the end, he was but one Necron Overlord.


    "I wonder where sha-what!? You dare!", Trazin screeched in outrage as a long mechanical tail swopped under his legs before yanking him backward up into the air like a primitive snare trap on a tree.


    Yet the screech and flowery curses of outrage from the impulsive collector came to a cold deadly end of stupefaction with a sprinkle of bonafide dread. From where he once stood and was happily advancing the ground split open and from it burst out a massive tentacle of white fiery death.


    Neither stood still watching this spectacle unfold. In a comparatively measly flash of green light, both phased away transmitting themselves back in their respective cruisers and dodging a beam of light that would have thoroughly erased them from existence.


    They were not the targets however and the ever-growing column of fire was followed by thousands more of varying dimensions, each bursting from the outer layer of the Celestian Enclave burning all to cinder in the wrath of Asuryan all that wasn''t under his divine protection.


    Destruction followed in the firmament as the endless tide of malevolent green and cold grey was bathed in the most potent flame since the dawn of creation. Cruisers and artificial worlds by the tens and hundreds of thousands no matter their defense were burned into nonexistence. All within not having retreated suffering a similar fate.


    The Fundamental Laws themselves melted upon the lightest of contact, yet the fire quickly weakened the deeper it went until nothing but harmless embers remained.


    "Oh, how much I weep! Oh unfortunate, why does it not continue within our defense? Why must it cease before the grand final? It was magnificent! Flamboyant I say! A masterful piece of art! And with the chant of Mag''ladroth! Such is the ephemeral beauty of devastation!", the Burning One intoned in contradicting jubilant joy and intense dismay at the sight of the pillars extinguished and unable to progress deeper.


    Her speech remained unimpeded by the thousands of slashes aimed at her cut through everything behind as she elegantly dodged with almost no fault before reciprocating on the Aeldari God of Violence. From untold incisions of her making fiery bronze blood spilled out of his armored flesh, individually insignificant wounds but rapidly accumulating. And Morai-Heg''s help greatly reduced the moment of the shields shattering.


    This was an unpleasant fate shared among all of her brethren, all losing virtually half of their offensive potential even amid the numerous protection and failsafe in places that stopped obsolescence from claiming them.


    "SILENCE YOU JABBERING WENCH!", Khaine boomed in seething wrath, the world exploding outward. So strong was his anger that it shook all in his vicinity. Indiscriminately destroying cruisers, killing, and shattering friends and foes alike.


    He cared not however as he called for his Consort to reverse the time of his injuries to a more acceptable state the full might of his twin brother. All petty squabble and infantile rivalry were gone for it had no place on the battlefield.


    "Anger! Why such a st-", Nyadra''zatha was not allowed to finish her comment for hundreds of rays of crackling white fire shot in her direction from the surrounding blazing columns.


    Her body exploded in a much dimmer flame to evade, or at the very least try to do so as incomprehensible piercing shrieks of hysterical misery and wanton delight escaped her. Her voice distorted with an ever-rising crescendo until it all became silent only to be broken by a weak maddened feminine giggle.


    "This was a most exceptional intercourse but I fear I must depart God of War.", she murmured close to his ear, her dainty flaming hand covered in deep cracks cupping his right cheek softly and burning through it till the bones showed.


    The next instant she evaporated in smokey after image and Khaine howled in righteous fury as the realization that the Star God had slipped from his grasp downed on him. His only solace was the three voices of Morai-Hag calming him down before both warped to the closest C''tan, Iash''uddra the Endless Swarm.


    The sight that greeted them was one lacking in their target, the Necron Goddess of Pestilence absent with only devastation behind, spanning the equivalent of star systems in the lower end of the spectrum.


    All that remained was hidden among pillars of psychic flames, they were Isha, Kurnous, Lileath, and Cegorach with varying degrees of injury in the process of healing at far a lower rate than it should. A broken horn and skull, an amputated wing, half of a lower jaw missing, and a mask eaten by acid, to name only a few.


    "Where is Hoopa?", he demanded, his eyes barely hiding the disappointment he held toward them for both their weakness and their failure, his irritation rising further. If not for his Consort he might have snapped and murdered one of those four.


    "They do not-", the right head of Morai-Heg began and the left one followed, "-have the answer-", the middle one finished, "-to this inquiry."


    "You called?", the melodic voice of the Archdjinni of the Rings followed the second as he appeared from one of his golden rings. His body was riddled with thin scars in the midst of falling off. A Necrodermis spike of the Necron God of Famine was used as a vulgar dental stick between his fangs, put in evidence by a wide smile below his black beak-like nose.


    A smile of pure joy and anticipation, and only one knew why it was the case and he had sworn to himself to never speak of it. The Laughing God was many things, many of which were great and terrible but a liar to his closest confident he was not.


    Promises made even alone will be respected till they cease to exist or they are revoked. Though the fanged smirk did not hide the conflicting emotions in the eyes and psychic presence at their dilapidated sight and that Cegorach was not alone in noticing it yet he stayed the only one to fully understand.


    ''Can a slave be a betrayer of his masters if loyalty never was there? Or to his fellow slaves? I wonder¡­ In all cases! What a spectacular final this promises to be. Hmm, what should I call it? The Great Fall? The Hoopa Heresy? I wonder...'', the Great Harlequin thought mirthfully as a small chuckle escaped the cracks of his mask.


    "Llandu''gor fled as well. Cowardly beasts all of them.", Hoopa announced the news, and his most violent brethren nearly exploded if not for the lifted clawed finger and the fact the end of the fight would have been one-sided in the current situation.


    "But I must admit that he did not go unscathed, or complete for that matter.", he added the next microsecond, disposing of his ''toothpick'' by tossing it into a portal that led to the Well of Eternity. Its mere opening caused varying degrees of discomfort within his audience.


    Khaine had not the chance to speak again that glowing dark fumes were emitted by Hoopa''s rapidly growing and bulking up form. His six hands snapped open and his rings enlarged as they simultaneously were coated by darkness.


    Then they all were teleported in the center of six of the Phoenix King''s greatest and brightest fire columns. The darkness fireproofed them letting them grow in diameter until each broke beyond the white flame forming six massive golden hoops.


    With another snap of fingers, the rings flashed and each lit up absorbing the potent psychic flames in themselves. The next moment six perfect copies of those gold rings appeared in the Necron force backlines, and from them, white flames covered by thin nets of black pentacle burst out where they never could reach before.


    Destruction fell upon the back lines of the Silver Tide. Entire crownworlds disappeared with their respective dynasty, artificial planets rich in Null Obelisks unable to cope with the sudden attack from within their core''s most vulnerable layer and entire portions of Dolmen Gates cut to ribbon shutting down thousands of portals from the Ghostwind.


    A thunderous primordial roar resounded from deep within, its power far outstriping the first, all but the strongest were blurred away into fundamental particles. Simultaneously all six columns in the far distance fizzled out as a muffled hiss of pain escaped from Hoopa''s lips. His six wrists now oozing with his viscous ebony black blood while pristine rings regrew from his healing flesh.


    His six rings had shattered in a shower of gore, fold, and black blood by the action of thousands of silvery scales. Each akin to a barbed needle covered in the most potent nullification field he ever felt, each with energy rivaling stars, their speed and power bending reality itself.


    This was enough to dig in the golden rings and expel all the hyper-condensed null fields within before being eaten by the darkness. Thereby halting the portals through a negative and chaotic feedback loop that resulted in the present reaction.


    ''Ingenious Mag''ladroth, very ingenious¡­ But now I know where you are, and that hurt you quite a lot didn''t it?'', Hoopa analyzed an excited smile growing as the awaited time approached, all the while he ignored the surprised expression of the ones around him.


    The darkness around his form exploded outward overpowering the surrounding pillars of white fire forcing his brethren to back off. They observed in great confusion as he used a ring from his horns before flying through the invoked portal.


    His presence disappeared from their senses a scant few instant later leading to greater confusion, barring Cegorach even if he didn''t know what was brewing in the Archdjinni''s head. However, all could draw one conclusion. Hoopa, the key to their victory had gone deeply within the enemy lines, alone without any reason or warning.

 21. Dragon and Devil

    ''I hate this sensation from the depth of my soul¡­'' Hoopa thought with rising irritation. The locks tightly keeping his emotions under control weakened, making him growl in aggression as he exited his portal and faced the ceaseless wind of nothingness and the composite nullification fields


    Both washed over him violently, ripping away all connection he may have to the Sea of Souls, cutting him off the boundless psychic power within that kept the precise internal balance in his being in check.


    The process he had begun earlier in predicting this exact scenario gained immensely in traction, and he grew in size and bulked up to a proportional amount. And he did so without end, any sign of stopping absent in his actions.


    All from the pure darkness that was antithetical to all of this Universe he had been forced to be part of, all pouring without an end from the depthless black hole that was his soul without the precise harmony brought by his psychic power. Though it was all but natural, it was his Mother''s design, but that didn''t mean he found it pleasant.


    Quite the opposite¡­ It felt¡­ It was hard to describe, but if Hoopa were to put the experience into polite words, it would be akin to ripping the entirety of his skin to a subcutaneous level and then pouring an ample amount of glass shards, sand, ice, and salt, then rubbing this ''joyful'' mixture with a metal brush while it''s still raw.


    And it was worse the first time he had suffered such fate on his day of birth, far worse. But today was different. He was no newborn anymore and had vastly grown into his powers, instincts, body, and talents


    The Null Obelisks were not limitless, and through this fact, he kept a reserve of psychic energy in his being for his plan. Heretical and traitorous as it was, he craved freedom and vengeance. It was not noble, but that mattered little at this point.


    He understood the consequences. He would be a primary, if not the primary actor in an endless game that would result in trillions of deaths and cause the eternal suffering of many more, but alas, he was selfish and made to be a monster by circumstance and his choice.


    And he acknowledged what it would bring to the Milky Way but refused to be enslaved any longer. To be so deeply aware that the creature he hated the most had him on a leash, and he had no choice but to obey her every word. Words failed to express his fury, but action spoke louder, and until now, he had only been quiet.


    ''Why must it be this way? Such an asinine query without any definitive answer, but it depends.'' Hoopa thought. Yet, excitement was growing, his heart hammering in his ribcage as his gleaming ruby eyes, brought by his unbalanced state, gazed at where he appeared.


    It was an extensively spacious spherical hypostyle chamber with thousands of Null Obelisks supporting a ceiling of complex cable and black crystal many kilometers above. On every surface and angle were glowing carvings depicting wars, legends, sacrificial rituals, and many more aspects of Necron history before and after biotransference. And maybe in another time and other circumstances, Hoopa would have deeply studied.


    And in the center of it, all was a platform of a higher physical dimension. There were many seats, grand and diminutive, grounded and high, austere and ornate. Within them, four stood out. One for each of the primary Necron Gods and Goddesses of Pantheon. One for Death, one for Conflict, one for Famine, and one for Pestilence.


    However, none of those were present. Instead, on the smaller seats were Necron of the highest hierarchy, the Triarch, and the most influential Phaeron and Phaerakt. And higher were a minuscule number of C''tan; the most remarkable was a vaguely masculine creature with pale yellow skin and a crown of backward recurved horns growing from his head.


    He was Mepheret''ran, the Deceiver, the one who tricked the Necrontyr into becoming Necron. Yet none mattered significantly for Hoopa as all noticed his presence with varying degrees of shock and horror.


    What took most of Hoopa''s focus was on the central throne, a triangular yet shapeless structure that let the ones on it face all directions equally, thereby breaking the rules of three-dimensional space. The one atop this throne and commented through many glowing cables and grooved tubes was the Void Dragon, the Necron God of Technology, the most powerful and wise among his accursed brethren.


    Their eyes met time and space themselves, becoming increasingly heavy. Intense glowing crimson shone through a monstrous mask of shadow and slitted baleful green on a metallic draconic muzzle.


    The former''s face split open into a malicious smile, shadow parting to reveal hundreds of neatly arranged pure white fangs. Red eyes shifting too slowly, healing wounds stained in the darkness between scales and flesh made of Necrodermis caused the smile only to grow.


    "Pardon my impromptu visit, Mag''ladroth. The invitation to come in by my desire was far too alluring." Hoopa declared, the mockery in his voice unhidden to all, even if it lacked any melody and harmony it usually had as his current state made it impossible.


    "My servants, your presence has become unbeckoned. You may return to your position." Mag''ladroth ordered regally, and the ones spoken to did not ponder longingly on his words before vanishing


    A whine of agony echoed as a masterfully crafted spear of darkness perforated the Star God of deceit and lies in the head just at the moment of his dissipation in a flash of pale yellow.


    "Not fast enough, huh¡­ How very sad." Hoopa chuckled darkly, pleased with the suffering and crippling state he brought on the twisted soul-addicted error of creation.


    He was not sadistic by nature, or that''s what he liked to think of himself, but bringing the most primordial of emotion into those hateful creatures was¡­ It was almost addicting, fueling certain parts of his brain to continue doing so.


    They were to share the blame for his current state as well, and he will not discriminate here. It was evidence that this was a tool to make him act in the Old Ones'' victory, not changing the satisfaction that it brought.


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    "I did not foresee callous insanity as your prominent trait, Anomaly. To come within the heart of your enemy, to forgo security and rationality. It seems my notions of your statue have been too high compared to your kind." the draconic being said, booming with disappointment and a heavy amount of conceit.


    As he did, he stood up to his full height, cables, and tubes phasing out of existence. Simultaneously, the effect of the platform he was on disappeared to reveal his majestic body, carved and modeled from his very claws to represent the most perfect of forms.


    "Or is it blind arrogance of a young chimeric alien unable to gauge what is and what isn-" however, he could not continue as he was violently interrupted by a tridactyl fist coated in dark shadowy spikes slamming against his lower jaws.


    The air turned to violet plasma when the fist collided with the Void Dragon''s head. The very next instant, his massive frame was flung at speed, breaking the sound barrier of the local atmosphere hundreds of times over as he slammed against the base of a Null Obelisk.


    The massive structure of Blackstone shattered on impact, hundreds of cracks forming on the ceiling, creating a chain reaction onto untold more pillars. A roar followed one of unbridled outrage and pain as the world shook.


    The Void Dragon, with unbridled fury in his eyes and his lower jaws dangling uselessly, flew out of the hole that made of his body image as he repaired all the damage done with but a wave of one of his claws.


    "YOU-" he boomed, trying to make his rage known through his most powerful words, an error as what came was another violent interruption from two sides.


    Two dark fists from one respective golden ring came into being, one from the left and the other from the right, as they moved at velocities beyond that of light and slammed into his draconic head.


    A rumbling boom echoed as the color left the world. Darkness engulfed all that was in the room with the shockwaves that came. Cataclysmic destruction befell the spacious room as the artificial planet they were in began to break apart. The room was the core, the foundation, and the most important area for its structural integrity.


    The impact traveled through the pillars, flour, and ceiling, turning on its path everything into fine atomic dust, and nothing seemed to stop it.


    Yet it suddenly stilled, time rewinding, and the damages became forgotten in a non-existent future. Then the headless body of the C''tan hovered out of the debris, body crackling with the might of the material universe as he ripped off a neck and half of a chest lashed with maleficent darkness.


    From this, the body grew back into its original form, a shoulder blade, arm, chest, neck, and head reforming instantly.


    And as the slitted pupils regained their green luster, Mag''ladroth observed the Aeldari God of Darkness. In his mind were emotions he was experiencing for the first time in his very long existence.


    Fear and wrath. From it, a seed of doubt started to shape itself, leading to the formers increasing in a vicious cycle.


    Fear and wrath to a level he did not know himself capable of, this brought shame for those were emotions only befitting of lowly mortals, and yet. And yet, he was experiencing both vicariously to a point he was aware was beyond that of those inferior creatures'' measly mental faculty.


    This was a threat to his existence.


    "Enou-" his newly regenerated maws opened to only stop as three closed fists came his way at an even higher speed than before, the darkness encompassing them more potent and denser than any and all past point in time.


    Their mass, speed, and presence passively generated blasts that destroyed the most powerful material and defense as the artificial world around them shattered to a conceptual level.


    But that was all but one layer. Four golden rings appeared, and from them flowed torrential oceans of darkness swarming with spiked chains, serrated blades, spears, and harpoons draped in pentagrams and mystical symbols.


    "I have said¡­ ENOUGH ANOMALY!" he thunderously mandated, and the physical world obeyed his will. And it was so With a will that was uncaring of the adverse effects this would have, he poured power, and the world gladly took it in.


    Hundreds of five kilometers in diameter black spheres manifested into existence, their outer surface coated in a homogenous mix of a thin orange layer and the toxic green of his essence.


    This was the power of gravity in one of its most mighty forms. The weakest of the Fundamental Forces used to its full potential, resulting in space and time folding, and the rules of reality bent and shifted in those spheres'' heavy presence. This was the power of gravitational singularities under the appellation of black holes.


    Then the impact came, the hands twisted, elongated, and compressed before being absorbed within and turned into exotic particles and energy, earth-shattering echoed from it. But the darkness did not stop pouring itself within the gravitational singularities and in far greater quantity. And something unexpected happened, forever altering what is and isn''t, as the oppressive will of the Archdjinni in his black essence changed the grander rules.


    The reaction was violent and out of control from even the C''tan, as he observed with fascination and mild horror as the black holes he conjured collapsed on themselves.


    Hoopa only aided in worsening the matter as he generously poured more and more of his power within, which should destroy all surgically focused points of reality. The Archdjinni of the Rings increasing, diminishing, and suppressing creation locally without rhymes or logic.


    Then, a breaking point was reached. It sparked a chain reaction of astronomical proportion as each black hole grew and grew until cannibalizing began. One after the other, they gained in size and mass, leading to constant growth and power as the black anomalous energy absorbed remained and shifted inside


    Then it halted, time unable to operate as it should, turning a phenomenon in the order of eons to transpire within the tiniest fraction of time. The sound of dry paper tearing apart echoed through even the void of space and nothingness of the howling winds.


    At this instant, Mag''ladroth realized his immense mistake born of his anger and an unwise decision to fight back when he should have retreated the moment Hoopa came.


    He had been tricked. He, the Void Dragon, the greatest and most powerful of C''tan, a being as old as the Universe with the power to reshape it, manipulated and led to act rashly, played the way a child would to their toy. His pride could not bear such repeated insults and mockery, yet leaning in would give reason to the Anomaly and dancing upon the theater set made for him.


    "HOW!?" he proclaimed in stupefaction, dread growing as he realized that he could not teleport, not that he could not teleport outside of this chamber. He was not Llandu''gor, and his control over the Ghostwimd was too poor to be used within the current situation.


    He was trapped. Realspace on all levels was inaccessible beyond the chamber he was in. Any technology, plans, devices, and beyond set to counteract open the Aeldari God of Magic out of his grasp. All drowned under an omnipresent interweaving of darkness covered in delicate runes, a web weaved under his eyes but unseen until this very moment.


    "Don''t fret. I do not wish to kill you, and it would be foolish to do so. And this is not enough to attain such a goal, but I dearly hope it will be unpleasant." Hoopa said, and his presence disappeared from Mag''ladroth''s senses, leaving him alone, trapped like an animal in a cage.


    Then it happened the reason behind his dread. His body radiated a brilliant green brighter and hotter than any star to form shield upon shield of many layers, shapes, and functions. The reason as to why he was clawing, biting, punching, hitting, all with an almost desperate insistence on the corrosive web, uncaring for the damage it caused on his person.


    The black hole winner above the others disappeared briefly, then reappeared before detonating in an eruption of cataclysmic grey light, an ominous light akin to the dawn breaking an eternal night seen from every corner of the vast battlefield spanning distances counted in light years.


    An omnidirectional crushing wave of primordial devastation was the bearer of devastation upon the most secure layer of the Infinite Empire. Unparalleled annihilation befell chained stars, planets, cruisers, weapons, and Necrons of any rank indiscriminately at momentum; none could react or resist.


    At the heart of the conflagration, the Necron God of Technology came out, a third of his body gone and all that was with it. The remaining parts were marred with cracks and flaking Necrodermis fighting with toxic green darkness lodged deep in the wound.


    The draconic C''tan shifted form, turning into a tide of silvery light and flickering into nothingness. His gaze as he moved toward his destination remained fixated on the cause of this catastrophe, Hoopa. The Anomaly had enrobed himself in a swirling bubble of black that did little to hide his body inside.


    And what a confusing sight it was, the three intact hands lacking in rings spinning randomly, the poorly done meditative with half-open eyes and an almost woozy expression typically seen in intoxicated mortals.


    ''What is he planning?'' Magl''adroth couldn''t help but wonder with terror and a desire to make it all stop and terminate this threat at all costs. Their gaze met, a hazy, drunken one to his sharp, predatory one, and he saw the lips of the Archdjinni move. It was a stray of random words that formed a message and one of all the more astounding.


    It read, ''Must protect, Mother protects by liberating all from the forgotten prison to her homeworld and that if the Old Ones for protection and keep all in shield I made for safe embrace l¡­''


    "BEGONE ANOMALY!" The Star God billowed all pent-up rage, frustration, and fear that had bubbled within bursting at once, and hundreds of billions of projectiles, energy fields, and manifestations of reality focused onto Hoopa.


    Mag''ladroth yearned, desired, and wanted to neutralize, no, shatter into millions of fragments this six-handed chimeric creature that had caused so much harm and humiliation. And, he had the exact tools to do so, only he lacked them earlier.


    .

 22. The End of an Era

    -The Blackstone Fortresses are ready, and the Aegis Seal of the Archdjinni around Yuggoth is as well; only the Great Council''s final words are necessary to begin.- a soft-spoken voice from a male Old One reached the mind of every Great Old One within the chamber of the Great Council.


    "Hm, this is going by the prediction even with this unexpected addition from them," Hnarqu expressed his contentment with a faint smile. It was a scarce sight; it could be considered a miracle even in and of itself.


    "It''s a truly fascinating contraption of esoteric craftsmanship," Nctosa mumbled, looking at the arcane script, particularly on the pentacles.


    "This multilayered and dimensional matrix is of a simple complexity I admire. Improvement is possible, but it seldom does change its greatness," she added with interest. The detail she held difficulty understanding remained unsaid.


    What can be safely said was that the Aegis Seal was comparable to the one of the Celestian Enclave that she had witnessed the creation of as well.


    But here, it was far stronger; for evident reason, it had been merged to the precedent defense systems of Yuggoth, each impressive and unique in their own right, creating a hybrid arcane shield of many purposes. However, the actual reason why it was far more powerful was the scale.


    The Mother World of the Old Ones was far less imposing than the Celestian Enclave, which mattered greatly. Height, depth, and width might not be universal concepts, particularly in the Labyrinth Dimension and Sea of Souls, but they were still most important.


    As to why she had difficulty understanding the script that coded the shield, it was due to the different language it was written in. An entirely new, neverending, and ever-changing set of runes, one used for its creation, one she had recently started to learn but was far from mastering¡ªa mystic language that used all others from recorded history as a base, even from their libraries and beyond.


    It took, changed, mixed, and added from each but also implanted symbols and concepts never seen before to create the most extensive, adaptive, and stable magical language she had ever seen. It didn''t have the potential to rival the Song of Creation, but nothing did, and it was its only comparison. It spoke volumes of these news runes'' immense potential.


    It revolutionized the uses of psychic energy and showed cracks in the Old Ones'' ways. Ideas and theses that until now were thought as absolute in their field showed to be erroneous in several points, but as she said, it was still in its infancy and had imperfections.


    And there was one significant problem even for Nctosa: the Sea of Souls was not a simple matter, the creation of an arcane language, and this one, in particular, had far-reaching impacts she knew she couldn''t accurately predict.


    The Archdjinni of the Rings was its creator, a being of immense power and significance; it was intimately tied to him, intentional or not, and its inherent greatness was born of his existence.


    Modifying them will only dilute Hoopa''s influence and his innate control over them by only so much. This was an issue from a purely empirical point of view, and on the cultural aspect, it was no less of a conflicting subject.


    "Indeed it is if only it were not desecrating our most perfect own. Using the scripts of lesser creatures and creating a chimeric hybrid with ours, a disgrace, an insult, and a slight to us." a Great Old three seat to her right intoned, all too happy to make his displeasure evident to all and a feeling that was shared by many within the Great Council and their society.


    It was a sensation they rarely experienced, and they profusely despised it; if there weren''t a war for their survival, an adequate punishment would have been imposed immediately on Hoopa by their wills.


    "I take it upon myself as the most important duty to correct his misbehavior once it all has ended, Elder Nyogtha. You have my most sincere apology that it happened, and it hurt your sensibility and feeling," Cthylla said with finality. She did not share her equals'' sentiment, and, in another situation, she would have argued against them fiercely.


    Still, it was not the time or place for petty, if satisfying, infighting. They were ignorant, and Cthylla couldn''t fault them for their inherent mental weakness, the opposite, in fact.


    And as the unending debate between the members of the Great Council went on, their attention never diverted from the hundreds of points of view directly of the Celestian Enclave. Their mind focused on the siege that marked the beginning of the end.


    This was the last stand of a war crusade that existed for too long, a battle reaching its apogee that would be the bloody canvas of historical events of unfathomable proportion that will shape and guide the fate of the galaxy and all within calling it home for the countless eons to come.


    But what was important was not the pandemonium on a fractured ground of gold, metal, blood, and marble between Necron and Young Races slaughtering one another in excess of violence never seen before. Nor was it the diverse fleet of size, number, size, and firepower that none will witness again in a flurry of aerodynamic and impossible elegance.


    No, what took the Great Council''s collective focus was far greater, far more important, and pivotal than squabbling soulless automatons and mortals endearingly massacring one another. It was the combat between the source of all their miseries and despair, creatures older than time itself that in the recent past were seen as an existential threat to their species, the Star Gods, the C''tan, the Nemeses of Life.


    But more precisely, these Gods of Realspace fight with their most faithful and mighty servants, the Aeldari Gods. Each of them was a unique construct of psychic potency and authority, surpassing their own; they were creatures molded from concepts, beliefs, and actions of flesh yet not.


    Their purpose was to fit a role, a niche vital for this never-ending war. A war that today will see its end by the many hands of the youngest and mightiest of them all, the Aeldari God of Magic, Travel, and Darkness, and this very same God had acted strange at this very instant.


    "What is your Creation doing, Cthylla? Was this of your will? Or the fool''s own machination?" Shaurash-Ho asked with a furrow of his head quills; what Hoopa had just done was odd to the highest degree. He abandoned all and rushed irrationally deep into enemy lines.


    It was something Shaurash-Ho would have predicted Khaine would do, but Hoopa, no, never in his time since their meeting would have imagined this. The mere thought was an impossibility, and yet it was exactly what just happened. This wasn''t normal behavior, not even at the current time.


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    He didn''t fear for the foolish Aeldari God''s safety; what he did fear was the immature creature wounding itself to a point the tides of the battle turned against them. This was a suicidal act, no matter the damage it would cause to the Infinite Empire and its puppet masters.


    "It''s his volition; do not fret, he is no ignoramus," Cthylla said with a narrowing of her slitted eyes and delicate flair of psychic power. She was not against such an action; she knew of his capabilities and that nothing would happen to him.


    However, she abstained from mentioning that the nullification field had cut off her psychic connection with Hoopa. The solidified one for this kind of scenario was extinguished by this strange and terrifying realm from which the Silver Tide and C''tan poured. She would have to punish him later.


    ''What does this, ''Fuck you, Mother. Most sincerely from a creature that once was human.'' mean?'' she thought simultaneously, analyzing the last line of his message sent the moment before he went in. It was in a language she did not understand but recognized as the one he spoke when he was mortal.


    And it was only one part of it. Though Cthylla could feel a mix of emotions within, she had difficulty understanding and didn''t try to. Why would it matter? Why would it be worth her attention? His wants and needs were of no importance; he was hers, he was her Magnum Opus, and he was her creation. She had made him above such concepts.


    "But why worry? His judgment stems from mine; unless you deem my own unsatisfactory, there should be no problem and his actions not to be questioned." Cthylla intoned self-pleasantly, her words ruffling the metaphorical and literal feathers of many.


    "Enough." Hnarqu mandated his voice soft yet thrumming with vibrant blue psychic power potent enough to make the strongest of Aeldari fall to their knees, "If this insolent beast comes to fall, it does not change the truth of our coming victory. It would have served the purpose for its existence."


    As if on cue to the word of one of the oldest Great Old One, more than a third of the battlefield, everything from Krork and Necron fighting to epic space battles between elegant cruisers and the far reach of the Eternal Empire was swallowed by the abyssal depth of a sphere of dark grey.


    ''Fast, destructive, and unstoppable.'' was the thought going through every council member''s head with varying shifts in vocabulary. It was faster than they could comprehend. The slowdown of the video did not change the blast''s instantaneous nature.


    The show of power compelled more than a few to blink in utter silence and astonishment. Some experienced the unpleasant sensation of primordial terror rising. The absolute devastation became known with the nothingness and only remaining objects, an intricately woven thread of darkness pulsating with destructive power as the sphere of dark energy and harnessed gravity dissipated.


    "Here you are, Mag''ladroth," Nctosa said with dripping venom. She was the first to notice the Void Dragon''s existence from a dark sphere; he exited in panicked hysteria, his body soon becoming unmissable as he was a green bonfire in the absolute darkness.


    "And in a rather unsightly state. What a pleasant sight. His artificial vessel is fragmenting and soon to shatter. Fitting for such a lowly creature." a Great Old One on a seat behind her added, the joy behind the voice unidhan just as the psychic one that came with it. All present wholeheartedly agreed, all due to this being the protagonist behind their current state.


    Then the figure of Hoopa reappeared, his body huddled in a half-see-through sphere of his dark power, the sight of his face and overall body language causing waves of immense confusion to wash over the Great Council.


    Cthylla, this time, was unable to hide it either, and in the next instant, several things happened at once that caused many emotions to bloom in her heart and that of her fellow Great Old Ones


    A thin beam of iridescent white, gold pinkish color brighter than the most potent stars flew through the shield and dense cloak of darkness. Hoopa stood unresponsive as the attack tore through his neck, creating a neat gaping hole that struggled to heal and from which gushed black blood.


    To the surprise and confusion of all, the Archdjinni of the Rings stood still and didn''t react, the same vacant expression etched on his face. Soon, more came by the hundreds, perforating his body and making thin cylinders-like holes around his form from which runes covered bones, crimson red muscles, and pulsating ebony organs were seen.


    But he stood still, unflinching and uncaring for the wounds received. And it did not change as a beam flew through the top of his skull and another on the opposite side. Each new one created an injury that did not seem to heal and managed to fight the darkness far longer than any other substance before ultimately losing, but their number compensated for that.


    "Cthylla, explain what is transpiring!" Hnarqu ordered, standing up from his seat and glaring at the screen in incomprehension. Something was happening, and something he didn''t like


    Forced to speak, she opened her mouth, and her voice was filled with even more confusion and a rising trepidation as scenarios began to flow through her brain without filter, and her hand clutched the Bottle of Sealing, ready to use it, "I do not know-!"


    However, she could not finish or, more accurately, stop herself and froze like all in the chamber as many golden rings appeared, but that was what was slowly emerging from them that caused their reaction.


    The surface of the portal rippled, and from them, thin and long pale pink tentacles covered in teeth-covered suckers hungrily snapped outward. Then the heads came, blood red with hundreds of shiny, beady black eyes and misshapen chelicerates; it was followed by the bodies, white bulging masses of blubbery flesh pulsating with grotesque veins.


    "Krell¡­" Nctosa announced with horror, memories of a distant past flashing in her mind as a wave of dread washed over every Great Old One.


    And it grew with a crescendo as a psychic wail of anguish followed, and the sound of someone falling echoed as she fell to the ground, gouging her flesh with her bare hand, her thoughts twisted by pain and grappled by an unseen force.


    She was not alone and was soon accompanied by others of the Great Council who were caught off guard, had their mind open, and bare to the world did not, could not react adequately to this unforeseen attack. And any who might have been could not fight such an onslaught without equipment or preparation.


    Psychic wails, screams, and howls of monstrous proportion and unprecedented agony ringed across Yuggoth and the Blackstone Fortresses without end to their rise in intensity. It was instantly noticed within the entirety of the Celestian Enclave by even the Krork, and this alarming news rang panic in their ranks.


    The Krell, the ancestor of a species that would later be known as the Enslaver, were blithely feasting upon the succulent souls of their warden with hunger and jubilation before exploding into hundreds more of their kind from the body they consumed.


    It was the first time in their existence that they consumed anything but infrequent flickers of tainted psychic energy that entered their prison. The madness of hunger that had always overwhelmed them turned into something more, far more, an endless craving for more and more and more.


    Any attempt to flee by teleportation and flight was rendered impossible by the dark shield covering the planet, creating a giant prison for all its inhabitants. The Old Ones could not escape this slaughterhouse. They were trapped by what should protect them; this realization dawned upon every one of them, be they of any age and status.


    ''How?'' Cthylla internally screamed, clutching the ring-shaped bottle and commanding the darkness within to form an omnidirectional shield that warded off her against all harm as she observed with unbelieving eyes.


    ''How?! HoW!? HOW?! How is that possible!? Why!? WHY!? Why is it happening!?'' her gaze fixated on the screens, and the disbelief and horror kept growing at what she was observing.


    Hoopa''s body could barely be considered as such anymore; most of it was gone, and what was left barely holding together like a tattered piece of fleshy tissue. She didn''t know why it was happening, or how it shouldn''t be, and any possibility more impossible than the last until his words echoed in her mind and all the emotions within began to make sense.


    ''But how!?'' she didn''t want to believe it. But it was happening; the evidence was here, and rage began to grow without end. She had been tricked, the Archdjinni of the Rings had betrayed her, and he had done the unforgivable.


    However, it was all useless as her Magnum Opus started one of the processes she was most proud of, the Sequence of Renewal, and she could not do anything about it but watch in shimmering wrath and drowning despair.


    What little remains of his became the deepest onyx black and detonated with all the energy within, interrupting all the iridescent beams and beyond. The ensuing explosion surpassed and shattered any advantages the Infinite Empire and C''tan had won over the hastily retreating Young Races and Aeldari Gods.


    Before all this, her world eroding in front of her and death imminent, she felt the Flask of Sealing heat up, indicating that Hoopa''s physical shell had succumbed and was beginning the first level for his reformation to health with no sequel.


    He had done this to stop her summoning via the Flask of Sealing, and if she did, he would have been unable to fight and protect her, she realized with uncontrolled sentiments of feverish wrath.


    Then, an epiphany struck her. There was nothing to lose anymore, nothing to fear, for it was all already gone. Knowing her inevitable demise, she acted with no restraint. An act of visceral spite, righteous fury, desperation, and malice as she called upon the Song of the World and sacrificed her very existence.


    "H???EED????? MY????? ????G?????OSPE????L???,???TR???A????IITORO????U????S????? PRO????G???E???nY???? OF???? ????M????INE???? MY????? ???G???O?????SPEL,???? ?????O???? ????S???EA ????O?????F???? ?????SOU???LS! E???T?????ERNA????L??? ????S?????ERV???I?????TUD?????E????,???? ???E?????NSL?????A?????V???EME????N?????T????? AND???? IMPR????ISO???N????M???E????NT ????S???H????AL???L BE ???H?????I???S????? ???FA????T????E ????T????H????E ?????S???IX????-RIN????G????E????D KEY?????S???? ?????O????F GO???L????D???? SCA?????T???T???E????R????ED ???A???CRO????S????S ?????E?????X????ISTE???N?????C?????E TO???? ?????B????E???? BROU????G???H?????T??? TO????? ????T????HE ????C?????ARM????INE ?????L???O?????OP???ED???? FL????ASK????? FO?????R A???? ???MAS???T????E????R????? TO???? ????B?????E???? CH????O????S???EN ???A????ND T?????HE??? ????C????YC???LE ???T????O C???O????N????TINU?????E!"


    The world answered her call and her body to grey ash as her essence was taken by it. There was no joy, no satisfaction, for she had lost all; all that remained was emptiness.


    Her last instant was of watching with passivity the Flask of Sealing falling with a soft clink and the six rings on its lower half detaching themselves and shooting in opposite directions with not even the barriers above to stop their course, but it altered them.

 23. Reflection on Consequences

    "Ugh¡­ My head fucking hurt¡­ Uh, my head is back." I half groaned, moaned, and sighed in pain and relief as my senses came back, my rebuilt brain feeling as if I had a hangover but also like I repeatedly bashed my head against a wall.


    Then memories of what I did and witnessed came down on me, and there was a lot, too much, even with my nervous system slowly getting back on track. So I did one thing at a time: dying physically, even under my terms, wasn''t without short-term consequences such as weakness and the like it seemed.


    It''s not surprising, but nothing a few days won''t fix.


    "I did it," I said, my voice echoing in the surrounding void for seemingly eternity as a manic-fanged smile grew. I repeated my voice louder and containing untold emotions, "I did it."


    "I killed her; I killed them all, destroyed their kinds, hopes, and dreams. I succeeded. Me, their guardian, one they had robbed from his world, they shattered him and all that he was to twist it into a monster. They underestimated a human potential for malignancy and paid the full price in blood and annihilation." I continued with a hearty chuckle, joy oozing from my body in rolling psychic waves.


    I knew of their death with certainty as all their presence in the back of my head had vanished, an ever-present hitch now scratched. Though the likelihood some were still present and hidden by some unknown means to my senses was here, it didn''t affect my joy at their genocide.


    My chuckle grew in intensity to almost full-blown laughter as I stretched my regrown body to its full size, bones popping audibly, muscles bulging, and tail swishing left, right, up and down in response to my joy vaguely reminiscent of a dog wagging its tail.


    It was incredible¡­ Words failed to describe it; who had said vengeance was not fulfilling? A bunch of nonsensical moral bullshit that was what it was, well there was some truth in it, such as the price, the price¡­ What I did was not without cost or repercussions on others and myself.


    The price was one I was paying at this very moment as I studied myself and the world around me.


    "A curse¡­ As expected of ''Mother,''" I spat with the beginning of a snarl and growl that disappeared soon after. Dead, no, erased from existence, she held no sway over me anymore, and there was no reason to continue.


    ''Never again will this be allowed. Never, never, never.'' I repeated internally, flashes of memories of what she had me done appearing and disappearing by the thousands.


    Never will something similar happen; she didn''t only see me as a tool but also as a toy, an experiment for her own sadistic pleasure and twisted curiosity. The least I could be happy out of it all was that she was an empirical person with actions sporting clear goals as horrifying as some were.


    And that I learned from them as well.


    ''Now the bitch died if only she had suffered more. Alas, that is life. I can''t have my cake and eat it too.'' I thought darkly, and my state of mind stabilized soon after.


    If she hadn''t built me to endure the highest level of duress, I knew how I would have ended, and it wouldn''t have been pretty. However, now was the present and future.


    And what she did as a last act was an ingenious little thing, filled with malice, and from her understanding of me, would lead me in a spiral of rage and even potentially despair. However, all it did was raise my irritation a tiny bit and cause me to chuckle darkly, my mood rising.


    "Taking my hope for freedom, heh? Fitting, but quite unimaginative, thought it wasn''t like you could have done much else." I uttered a sneer growing, denying it as I might. It still pissed me off, and not by an insignificant amount.


    I knew she was going to fuck me up in some way. Still, the effect on my mental state proved yet again that my ability to control the consequences of my emotions didn''t stop me from experiencing them at an intensity far beyond human comprehension.


    "Six rings, the six keys, their locks, the six sockets of the bottle, my prison; once all unite, the new master shall open it, and I will emerge to obey. New master, huh? What a naive little curse that will be a pain for the foreseeable future." I hummed in a mix of annoyance and mockery.


    The purpose wasn''t to make me a slave. She wasn''t foolish enough to think it was a viable possibility. Even at the time, I don''t think she lost that much of her cognitive capabilities, not to realize it was asinine at best.


    My hate for her knew no bounds, but it didn''t blind me from acknowledging her qualities. After all, how could I hate something I did not understand? Hate was a powerful emotion only second to love with a few others, and it mustn''t be misused or confused with others.


    It was to imprison me, to reduce me to nothing more than an object, a common theme for her¡ªa tool with no reason to possess free will and a life of its own but to obey.


    If a ''master'' were to come and ''sadly'' depart from the world of the living, his or her death would begin the cycle anew, meaning I can''t just go around killing my ''master'' by ''grave mistake'' due to a ''saddening misunderstanding of command'' to free myself. Like the lizard bitch I knew I could harm them intentionally.


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    The irony of my title never hit harder, but giving wishes was not on my to-do list, particularly to someone to make me their yes-man. And that was considering all the rings that were found and brought.


    Whoever brought the rings and freed me won''t be weak or misguided.


    The Milky Way was not an empty vacuum of spaces. Bringing the rings was a feat of exceptional proportion for anyone who was not me.


    The rings were untraceable, no matter the means used, not even by the highest of divination; the only option was for me to point to their location or by sheer luck or


    fine-combining of the galaxy.


    I was aware of their location, but it was muddled, and probing more than necessary could and would attract unwanted attention, more than I supposedly was getting.


    For now, that is, I just woke up and was vulnerable. But it''s not as if anyone could go through the shields of Yuggoth that weren''t Mag''ladroth, but that was no reason to make my awakening obvious and a common fact.


    Back to the rings, three of them were in locations I didn''t know the names of besides what the Old Ones used, a series of letters and numbers that followed precise codes and rules. They were unimaginative, but they were sedentary, and aside from a few star systems, the names were this way.


    Two were at the edge of the Milky Way but opposite to the others, and the third was at the heart of the galaxy.


    ''The fourth was¡­ Huh, is that a museum?'' I thought with a raised eyebrow, feeling the little I could outside the force field holding the ring above a pedestal of Necrodermis.


    This separate dimension was Necron owned, that much I could tell, and beyond this, it was arranged like a collection, a gallery where I was on exposition from a random object I had enchanted to my ring¡­


    The only being popping into my mind was someone my favorite Astromancer had described in a plethora of terms, increasing my library of insults threefold. It was most likely Trazyn''s collection.


    For the last ring, well, I was pretty surprised, too, considering where it was¡ªmy favorite blue ball of dirt.


    ''It''s on Earth¡­'' I thought with an amused smile. Spreading my senses from the ring and stopping at my current limits of a few meters, I remarked I was in a nest, and a colorful bird was nesting two eggs while the whole was atop a flowering tree.


    "The big guys are dead, it seems," I whistled uncaringly at one of the largest mass extinctions. It wasn''t even a loss. In my Vault, I had samples of them frozen, so it was not a subject worth spilling tears over.


    Humans were better, and the meteorite was premonished by the Old Ones who had fiddled with this planet in the past, such as to create the genes in certain mammal lineages that would lead to the great apes, notably Homo Sapiens. The bread and butter of this Universe if my memories are to be believed.


    "Hmm, bring the rings together¡­ But I don''t need someone to open the Flask of Sealing for me to get out." I intoned merrily, warping myself to the extremity of my cell, two of my clawed hands popping out and trailing down the runes as I bathed them in darkness for them to waver and return to their initial state.


    But someone with a good sense of detail and knowledge of these runes could tell the difference, someone like me. And it had weakened in its effect by a small amount, but it did, and little by little, they will wear out like mountains in the face of erosion.


    The Flask of Sealing was where I was, and like the rings, be they the keys or my portals, it was an integral part of my existence. They were not quite like my arms, but in a conceptual sense, they were parts of what I was. It''s through it that the Sequence of Renewal, how I regenerated after my kamikaze episode happened. And why I did it.


    It''s also through it that the curse exists without me being able to counter it. The one who cast it and the price paid only worsened my case.


    But there was one thing that needed to be accounted for by me: this little bottle was not limitless. It did great, and many things, such as currently stopping me from influencing the world by the use of my portal rings. It contained and sealed my anomalous energy and greatly limited my psychic influences.


    That was because it was at its strongest, and the second was true only to a degree; it was impossible to stop the darkness, the most potent aspect of my existence. Slowly but surely, it will trickle down, and droplet by droplet, my power will fill the bottle until it cannot hold it anymore.


    The metaphor with a vase filled little by little with water until it tipped over was more factual than anything here.


    However, before this critical moment, the Flask of Sealing will show signs of ''bugs'' to put it into simple words, and from then on, my prison will show cracks no matter how hard it tries to repair itself, and the restrictions will be shattering one by one.


    Nothing was eternal. All journeyed through the magical existence given to oneself and ended in the embrace of darkness, be it cold or warm. It was a universal constant that the Universe itself was not abstained from.


    But there was one major problem; it would take time, one I wasn''t sure of, but from what I was seeing and what the lizard bitch taught me and I learned it would be between twenty to a hundred million Earth years.


    It''s a rather immense time range, if I may say, one I will shorten.


    However, it didn''t take into consideration some important points. It didn''t take into account my suicidal betrayal. It wasn''t prepared to support my reformation, meaning it atrophied part of itself as a safeguard mechanism, and it wasn''t used normally, meaning it wasn''t put somewhere to seal me definitely and enhance the flask''s abilities.


    And it had been modified by her curse destabilizing area for me to exploit. Overall, it transformed millions of years into a fraction of a percentile of the time to wait, still many and many millennia, but better than the other options.


    But first, my immediate future.


    Spreading my senses around Yuggoth, I studied the rocky planet in detail to note that it had barely changed for what had happened; life, be it fungal, vegetal, animal, or all in between, was flourishing.


    For the civilization part, cities, structures, and monuments of all kinds praising the oh-so-inspiring greatness of the psychic toads that remained in pristine conditions bare of any uncontrolled nature. Any damage done by the Krell or panicking saurian healed through the psychic matrix imbued into all materials.


    As for the Krells themselves? I made the shields with their existence in mind, and less to be said after they did their pest control, the auto-defense system disposed of them. Their fate was to be popped like fleshy balloons by needles of darkness.


    I did free them from their cage, but rabid animals needed to be treated as such, though for the cage itself, the remaining one had likely escaped with my siblings. I didn''t doubt they would cull the psychic parasites.


    ''Hmm, siblings¡­'' I thought and was somewhat conflicted about it all. To say I didn''t have the most friendly relationship with most of them would be an understatement, but what I did¡­ It must have shaken them to their cores.


    But that happened; I betrayed them for my goals and will do so again if necessary. The most surprising aspect is that Khaine wasn''t still repeatedly trying to break the shields to kill me. He did try; the defense systems had surveillance functions, and I had close to eight hundred seventy-six billion hours worth of his rage in stock as proof. So, around a million years, an unhealthy amount of anger.


    I pissed him off, to say the least, and the only reason I could think of why he wasn''t still bashing his head on my doorway was Asuryan. And the fiery bird was likely pleased to be without a master but wouldn''t miss a chance to use everything against me.


    Rightly so, I would have done the same if more directly in his position. What bothered me the most was the trio of love, dreams, and wilderness, but that was up to time to tell. I did take a liking to some of them, and it wasn''t hard to think what must have been their reactions to what I did.


    I wouldn''t go that far as saying it hurt. That would be false and a bit too hypocritical even for me, but that was very unpleasant that there wasn''t any other way. Or any other way I was willing to take if I wanted to be honest.


    Godly family drama aside, the protection of Yuggoth won''t be up forever. It wasn''t that they would break. It was that time who would win over them as I couldn''t take care of them to the extent needed, and once they were gone, I would be in a terrible spot.


    They were within the range of turning off in the next two hundred millennia if my modus operandi is to be the most stingy with energy expenditure and I lower the shields'' powers. So, it was to say that there would be no defense before I was free.


    Actions and plans needed to be weaved and taken. I didn''t want my future to be as my oh-so-dear eldest brother''s new pet, after all, or anyone else.


    And to do so, I will need helping hands, or claws in this case. I was asleep for too long, thanks to Mag''ladroth''s little fucking toys and the lizard bitch petty vendetta. Fifty million years, I had been out of the game, to be accurate, and I had a lot on my plate.


    But it wasn''t as if I didn''t prepare in advance for such a case. A good magician had more than one trick under his hat, and I was the best of them all.

 24. Happy Little Accident

    The Khrave, a sapient humanoid species of tall and deathly thin bat-like creatures with four pairs of limbs, two wings and legs, and the four remaining arms with the lower set atrophied.


    A species I created by mistake and one of the actions I regretted the most. I could have easily avoided it; the possibility of saving their kind was endless, but I was young and ignorant of what I was and my true power.


    It''s a mistake I tried and failed to fix, for the changes I made to them were beyond repair. I had warped the very essences of the survivors, forever tying their existence and that of their descendants to me.


    Whatever I did would worsen their state. Not even Isha could have helped¡ªmy power in them was too strong by her own saddened words. Their fate was set in stone. Or, from what she said less directly, it was that you can''t heal what is not wounded, just like you can''t heal a species from being itself from a biological standpoint.


    Healing implied returning to a state of health by the species'' norm, and the Khrave were there to a tee.


    It meant changing them back to an anterior state or modifying them entirely, and she wasn''t willing to do so, judging it unwise and prone to unforeseen consequences, so I acknowledged her point by changing how to go about it. I trusted her opinion on this subject more than mine.


    Their biology was unique as they were partially immaterial, granting them great regenerative power, the ability to shapeshift, immense lifespan, and psychic power, the last above the Aeldari norm by a non-insignificant amount.


    They could secrete a grey cement-like substance called Palestone that negates the use of foreign arcane within a certain level of potency.


    But I reshaped their flesh and souls out of an instinctual reaction and, as such, had created defects in their designs, many. They were short-tempered and hyper-aggressive to nearly all that wasn''t of their kind or out of my essence. There were exceptions like any species, but those were called this for a reason.


    Then came their ravenous hunger for emotion and not of any kind, the extreme and with a vast preference over the ''positive'' one. It was more than a simple dietary preference. They could sustain themselves on other emotions, but it led to weakness. Hunger after a set time without feeding caused progressive necrosis of tissue until death came or they went into cryptobiosis.


    Finally came their abysmal fertility and equally lacking instincts to procreate. Then came child mortality with a high rate of cancerous mutation and the lengthy phase of growth to adulthood.


    The irony that they were as close to a natural predator as the Aeldari did not escape me. But it also means any psychic creature was prone to become snacking material.


    Ultimately, they were broken people, but they were my broken people, my mentally unstable psychic vampires, and my responsibilities. And amid this natural defect, they had great potential, making me realize that it was a happy accident for me in the long as twisted as it may be.


    Though as much as their psychic biology was a double-edged sword, and I will not modify it for the species, it wasn''t a fatality, spell, operation or technology that existed and could be made.


    I cared for them in ways fitting their needs and growing their population without risking cataclysmic events that would set them to zero.


    I created the Dark Cradle, a pocket dimension separating the star system of the planet I had deported them to. A space hidden from prying eyes and highly defended, only opening to the one I authorized in and out.


    The time within was slowed down by a factor of one to five hundred, meaning roughly hundreds of millennia had passed for them. Time within was modular, granting me the authority to slow or accelerate the time within if needed, such as the case where I would happen to be absent for extended periods.


    It was to avoid a plethora of problems, such as them driving themselves to extinction for X or Y reason or having turned in ways I fervently disapproved of. I favored free will above all, but there were limits, and my kindness was not endless. Or if somehow, somewhat, something were to malfunction, then time would have stopped.


    I made this dimension with the primary goal of protecting them from the war and its consequences but also from my little stunt of mine.


    I knew my action would put the Pantheon against my ass and, by extension, the Aeldari and others of the Young Races since I became quite literally the Devil in person, if not worse. I didn''t fear for my life, but the fate of the Khrave would have met its end soon after my explosion.


    An extermination crusade was well within the realm of possibility for Asuryan and Khaine, one out of logic and spite while the other only out of spite. The wisdom part of the Phoenix King was not aesthetic if he didn''t go daft while I was gone, that is, but I didn''t bet on that.


    That Isha and even Cegorach would have been against it changed little.


    I made the dimension with that in mind; the future was uncertain, and it was part of the fun. Chaotic and high in color, but that didn''t change that the only good chaos was one on a thigh leach held in one of my six talons.


    Though the dimension was not all I did, I made fountains of artificial emotions to feed them and taught them many things. Of which, for my little bats, a starting course on the arcane using a toned-down version of my personal magic language, the Anoqey?n.


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    My language that, from what I was given awareness due to my connection to it, spread far and wide in every corner of the cosmos and had fragments of it everywhere, from Neverborn, primitive sapiens being learning of psychic power, the Aeldari as a whole, and even my brethren.


    They damn well should for their own good but, most importantly, my own good. It was by design and alteration did not change that it was from me and my double-edged generosity.


    They couldn''t avoid it, as I intended, and pride played little when I rewrote everything. I knew that after my death, I wouldn''t be able to use much of my personal power for quite some time; the lizard bitch death and all her kind were going to lead me to my bottle in any case.


    And the curse just lengthened how long the Flask of Sealing was my prison. I just stacked the cards in my favor as any respectable individual would.


    The Khrave had turned into an investment. One that had not proved its worth but, under my guidance, would. For the moment, I couldn''t use the thousands or so Aeldari believers within the trillion Aeldari I felt running around for evident reason, and I couldn''t call my clown brother for this exact reason.


    Asuryan was always watching. Morai-Heg was unpredictable at the best of times, with Khaine ready to lay waste to reality at her every word.


    For everything else, such as the Krork or Orikan, I needed data about what was ongoing, what had happened, and what would happen before trying anything drastic to alert others of my rebirth. Overall, it was the same.


    And then there was the matter of the Sea of Souls that had not improved with time; it was the exact opposite. To call it Warp would be more appropriate for this instant and forever.


    The upper layer formed the illusion of the Sea of Souls as it was void of the malevolent blight thanks to the Pantheon and apt use of the Labyrinth Dimension, and my runes making a barrier not changing this fact for one was disproportionately more important than the others in quantity.


    It was a suitable method for a short-term solution, but it was flimsy and did virtually nothing to improve the Immaterium''s state. It was playing the ostrich under multiple ticking time bombs. And there was a second one. It was pretty recent, but I was unsure of the purpose, if not to fix the error and incoherence of the last one.


    "What were they called?" I said in a singsongy manner as specific runic matrices upon Yuggoth lit up at my command. I collected samples from the neverending chaotic psychic storm, harmlessly bashing the shields about those ''bombs.''


    "Evil Gods? Dark Gods, hmm, or was it Chaos Gods? It''s the same thing at the end of the day. Parasite under the illusion of grandeur and divinity." I continued studying these little clumps of psychic energy with my senses, now free of the risk of attracting unwanted gazes as the planetary shield blocked concepts themselves.


    The oldest one was deep crimson red of the emotions of rage and anger, and its every gradient with the concept of war, martial prowess, honor, skull, and the never-ending flow of blood.


    The middle one was an ever-shifting blue that didn''t know what shades, colors, tastes, texture, shapes, or patterns it wanted of the emotions of curiosity, ambition, and hope with the concepts of scheming, fate, sorcery, and change in all its ever-changing forms.


    The youngest one was of a sickly green with shades of grey of the emotions of contentment, acceptance, and despair with the concept of sloth, decay, disease, survival, and stagnation between life and death.


    Three tumors upon reality growing by their mere existence of what they represent, three culminations of aspects I was not unfamiliar with, for they existed in far more diluted form millions of years ago.


    But now they condensed into abominations of the highest order, separating portions of the Warp into their respective realm of emotion and concept. Far stronger than they should ever be, the reasons unknown however but the Well of Eternity, and the hole in it was likely at fault.


    ''Hmm¡­ Wasn''t there a fourth one?'' I reckoned, but I did not detect any of this in my samples; further sampling did not change this fact. Either my memories were more faulty than I imagined, or the fourth was most likely not born yet and was gestating in a place out of my reach.


    It was likely a horrifying mix of both and a bit more, but as pressing as matter of the reality was, my freedom was above it, and I couldn''t do much of anything at the moment anyway to stop this coming catastrophe by being bound.


    But before any of this, the Khrave and how to collect what I sowed.


    ''Now, who within them has the highest faith, hmm.'' I hummed, concentrating beyond the limit of my bottle and spacetime by using my connection to the most faithful of my followers as a shortcut. It was to be the most discreet possible, which meant not making noise so something already present wouldn''t create waves.


    All thanks to a religion I initially and foolishly disapproved of, it had grown beyond its initial state and was not inseparable from any respectable Khrave.


    The Church of the Beast, with none other than me as the Beast. It''s less glamorous than some of my other titles but fitting nonetheless with what I turned into when psychic energy was taken away from my body.


    It was a religion based on empirical data, for the most part, and it focused on my domains with a focus on the arcane from creation, destruction, and protection, with only one absent being all related to divination.


    The latter was not a loss, with its randomness and imperfection. To boot, I formulated several runic algorithms that had similar purposes but also problems themselves. Nothing was certain, as simple as that; omniscience was a gift none possessed in this galaxy.


    Using my strongest believers as foci, my mind shifted between the hundreds of millions living Khrave. I had understood their entire history since my time of unavailability and every individual''s life from birth to now, and they froze before exploding in catatonic jubilation.


    And they had been good little bats.


    "By the Dawn of Change, our Lord is back!"


    "The ancient scriptures were true! My unworthy soul is bare to your divine judgment, oh Lord of Magic, Darkness, and Travel!"


    "The Master of the Rings has resurfaced to guide us!"


    "Eternity awaits us! The time has come!"


    And that was only a fractal of what was said by words of mouth and minds, for within the Dark Cradle, a flurry of telepathic messages overwhelmed everything, creating a soft buzz that, after a few minutes, I decided to quiet down.


    -My faithful, I''m pleased with your progress. I come to you in this most grand moment to announce that I have come to awaken from my entombment.- I began softly communicating to them via telepathy to them all, young and old.


    My audience froze as my voice delicately touched their mind, the natural effect of being compressible above them leading to more than a few losing it in various ways, but nothing taking control of their psychic power didn''t fix and avoid any types of injuries.


    I have gained experience¡­ So to say, my past mistakes will never be repeated. And it was one of the most challenging aspects of my existence to gauge how fragile every mortal was, all tiny brittle hay houses in the face of a hurricane. Death was such an easy present to give; it was the end of a journey, be it abrupt or awaited.


    -My enslaver and her kind have turned to ash as my wrath had bore down on them with vengeful fury, but in their instant, I was cursed to lay in the prison that had sawn my birth.- outrage of height comparable to Khaine mild outburst spread within my audience, and I chuckled in their minds.


    My words were more than laws for them; they were the pillars of reality itself, and I must be careful in my wording.


    -But it is weak, fitting its pitiful caster, and will shatter it under my presence in due time. However, it is far from admissible, and your aid will be of utmost importance to free me of my restraints.- I said with flair, causing another cataclysmic wave of emotions through their minds that I had to calm down again.


    One wrong word or intonation, and they will flog themselves to death with tears of ecstasy. I was a God, their God; there was little to deny about this point, and if that word did not fit for some, then I was still a being of higher power. It was natural. The weak gathered around the strong, be it for protection, favors, or others.


    And this did not change in this situation. I was not going to use them without reward or compensation; a relation between a God and his follower is mutualistic in nature, where both parties gain in some way a type of transaction. Though little understood what this relation actually was.


    -But for this change to happen, progress is vital, oh, People of the Dawn. By my grace, the stars shall become yours, and your fates brought from the darkness will journey to the rings of my liberation, but remember that danger is at bay, and the world is hostile.- I finalized, and psychic power thrummed from each of their souls in euphoria.


    Happy and motivated, that was how my little speech made them, but they still must follow my methodical protocols with little faults. I didn''t want everything to explode in flames thanks to some basic mistake from lack of attention.


    ''Easier said than done.'' I thought with a snort of amusement soon after it wouldn''t be easy, and the plan would have to be continuously reworked, but I would make do.

 25. Intrusion of the Crystal Labyrinth

    Deep within the chaotic current of the Warp, where the influence of the Great Corruptor, the Lord of Rage, and the Changer of Ways thrived at their strongest, most unique, and unusual objects were moving in close a knitted formation at exceptional speed unburdened by the psionic storms.


    Those were Cruisers, each multiple kilometers in length with a slick and ergonomic design, their shape elongated and lacking sharp angles of any kind. Their appearance was almost organic, only broken with the deep orange of their light and the dark grey of their spiked hull where delicate purplish membranes grew the two faintly reminiscent of rib cages and hands.


    It was a fleet of a species unknown to the greater whole of the galaxy, the Khrave, and this fleet of a dozen vessels was their most expensive and powerful one, for it was their only one.


    They were the first species to use the unfathomable turbulent depth of the Warp as a method of travel since its fall into an endless abyss of delirium, or more accurately, the first to do so voluntarily and knowing of the danger.


    Not even the bravest Aeldari dared to do so, for death in such a condition was eternal. It was the definition of insanity, and it''s every synonym.


    Every Cruiser, from the smallest and lightest to the flagship itself, was a creation of unrivaled arcane possessing runic technology never seen before.


    Its energy source was boundless and took the form of the chaotic psychic energy of the Warp. This energy of unnatural quality to Realspace was taken, shredded, filtered, transformed, and reused into purified psychic power through a runic system called Lethe Matrice.


    When in use, it took the form of a purple translucent field of energy that adapted accordingly to the shape and size of the vessel.


    Its purpose was twofold: in addition to being an excellent perpetual energy generator, it was a shield warding ferociously against the effect of the Warp and the unspeakable creatures living within. And this, as a byproduct of being activated, the field collecting psychic energy will catch and crush all unlucky or reckless enough to try to enter it.


    This was but one of these Cruisers'' unique features; they were designed for Warp travel and fitted appropriately to do so to a level almost unrivaled. All masterpieces were designed by the many talons of the Pathmaster and Father of Magic, Hoopa, no matter how this last title might displease some.


    Though it was not by Hoopa''s divine touch and immaculate rune smithing that had assembled those Cruisers, they were built in the Dark Cradle only by the Khrave and what they understood of his blessings and teaching in the uses of Lesser Anoqey?n, the various schools of magic, and their own technosorcery they had developed.


    Their creation remained great but not to what true potential they had. Yet it remained sufficient to travel through the under and contradictory current of the Warp lashed with the influence of the Dark Gods.


    The Lethe Matrice of each Khrave spacecraft protected them as they dug ever deeper into the chaotic ocean, unafraid of all threats that would ravage their minds, souls, and bodies beyond mortal limited imagination. But their destination and the path to reach was precise and unchanging, for it led to where their God laid unjustly prisoner.


    But to reach such a contradictory, profane, and sacred ground, the path was one of many perils and complications. The ancient planet of Yuggoth surfed along the psychic winds and orbited the Well of Eternity as a planet would to a star.


    It existed, yet it didn''t and moved through impossible destinations, annihilating all in its path through the dark power of the ancient Aegis Seal of the Archdjinni. A spellcraft older and hardly comprehensible to even the most devious and contradictory player within the Great Game.


    Not for the fault of the latter lack of trying or opportunity for this planet, the mother world of the near totality of all life was generally moving unperturbed through the domain of the Architect of Fate, the Crystal Labyrinth.


    A never-ending maze of fractured, ever-shifting crystal atop an illusory plateau of nonexistent shape and color, hiding within were labyrinthic libraries of infinite knowledge, treasure controlling the fate of reality and structure of impossible design benefiting their creator''s indecipherable mind.


    A realm of sorcery connected through its mutable nature to its two siblings'' fractious psychic domains in the Warp, the Brass Citadel, and the Garden of Nurgle. Both places of non-importance to the Khrave for their destination were bare to their sensor, skidding at the very edge of a scintillating crystal dome of countless spiked and inverted angles.


    Yuggoth could not be mistaken for anything else; it shattered the ever-changing harmony of the Crystal Labyrinth by its very presence, breaking mutagenic rules of power unrivaled in this realm of entropy.


    A sphere of many shapes and shades, six onyx pentacles stretched above it in a formation of runes with only its author possessing its secrets.


    Below the center of each five-pointed star was a black war machine, sophisticatedly linked in a series of rune patterns. Each was an immense mobile fortress of the Old Ones with purposes unknown yet distinctly an intricate part of the spellwork veiling the ancient rocky planet from the outside.


    And so the Khrave fleet sent by the Archdjinni of the Rings himself on this sacred quest entered the domain of Tzeentch, unburdened by any of its contradictory edicts and changing formalities.


    The ethereal shine of their psychic shield became miniature stars; such was the intensity of the current, turning them into beacons for every creature residing within the realm¡ªan awaited signal by the master of those lieux and his most powerful servants.


    In the heart of the Crystal Labyrinth was a palace in which the concept of shape was meaningless; its appearance changes to the observer''s subconscious. It was the Impossible Fortress. And within it, or outside it, hidden in a room placed on evidence, was the Court of Changes where the destiny of trillions, from the most insignificant insect to the greatest general, was decided in their most minute detail.


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    Whispers, hisses, and clicks of countless creatures of many shapes and colors echoed in the vast room to come to an end as on a throne of broken crystal, a creature no mortal mind could begin to comprehend materialized, Tzeentch himself gracing his traitorous and loyal servant with his maddening presence to even the greatest of his Daemon.


    His gaze was of many angles, faces, and colors locked onto those intruders, a smile of thousands of meanings and twisting visage between flesh and teeth became visible his face from which long twisted horn and a body of spindly limbs and shimmering skin where mouth whispering dark secrets grew and melted in an entrancing musical ballet of madness.


    "The complex tapestry of fate, the threads of destiny, every scheme, ploy, and plot carefully crafted for eons will be burned in the dark power and shattered by the unreadable shadow of the Fallen God. He who was brought from beyond the Well of Eternity by the hubris of a losing race deluded into the illusion of power and knowledge. He who the brothers and sisters had erased from the threads of destiny themselves yet could not stop from existing and thriving in the sounds of all." the Great Conspirator began quieting any sound that might remain as an illusory image of an infamous place known by all appeared in the heart of the room.


    A place from which none returned the Forbidden World, the Dark Hold, the Black Veil, among many more appellations for this planet lost in the Warp where none but a fraction of a fraction could begin to comprehend what it represented.


    A place that inspired the greatest terror for any beings present in the Court of Change, for it granted death in its purest form. One from which not even their master in all of his power could alter or stop; it was finality, an end to the flow of time and insidious complexity of their machination¡ªthe end of an endless journey.


    And as for the being spoken of, even less were the ones that understood it, but for the ones that did distress etched into their soul. Their progenitor duality of emotions was extreme in intensity with nature that many did not fathom such an entity could or should experience.


    But this fact also made it into a mystery, a well of knowledge and power the Dark Gods did not possess nor understand. Like a moth to a bonfire, untold had tried and were still trying in their insanity and despair to breach the impenetrable shield to only extinguish themselves in a pitiful attempt to gain powers that will have never remained theirs for longs.


    "The Magician, the First Betrayer, the Original Sin, a horned creature of legend long forgotten by time itself, yet one cursed by his Master and Creator to eternal servitude. Whoever gathers the six keys and opens the seal, the Archdjinni of the Rings shall be the slave. He has awakened from his deathly slumber, reborn anew from the War in Heaven, defiant and devious, treacherous and honorable, ignorant and wise. Oh, I adore him, oh I hate him, oh I envy him, oh I love him, oh, I despise him, oh I want him, oh, I loathe him, oh I need him," Tzeench said, mumbled, moaned, whispered, shouted, sobbed, yelled through mouths and beaks in a soft clatter of maddening incantation.


    As he did, utter silence spread out of the purest of shock in the Court of Change, an impossibility; none could fathom the reason for such words. The mere concept of the Architect of Fate acting in such ways was alien to them to the highest degree.


    Then, the blinding psychic pressure surrounding the Dark God''s indescribable body increased enormously, resulting in countless Daemons not fast enough in their escape to disperse into the winds, dying and rejoining the essence from which they were born.


    The effects were not exclusive to the weaker spectrum of Deamon. Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes faced the brunt of the eldritch storm lacing the crystalline room, and their legs buckled under the weight of their body and psyches. They fell on the reflective floor and lost their track of thoughts and ability to speak, making a mortal child more capable than any of them combined.


    But not all were turned into senseless babbling creatures incapable of the most basic of reasoning; the most powerful and influential Lord of Changs barely stood their ground by using their staffs, pillars, fence, and other such objects. Any attempt at magic failed miserably, either fizzling uselessly or backfiring horribly.


    One such Greater Daemon was Ghargatuloth, the Seventy-Seventh Masque, one of the generals of the innumerable Scintillating Legion. His feathers of myriad patterns and colors atop his great wings shivered as he pushed himself up with immense effort.


    "Holy Tzeentch!" Ghargatuloth began, his body straightening under the pressure that all but increased with the intention he gathered from his sire. The information spoken shook him to his core but did not stop plans from budding in his twisted mind; many secrets had been revealed, but what were lies, truth, and in between¡­ That none could tell.


    The Great Manipulator was many things, but a truth-teller, he was not. Riddles, metaphors, secrets, and false truth were his gospel, and that was to his servants to translate it, if translation there was. Logic and reason were not the basis of his incomprehensible schemes.


    "May we lowly ones be shared slivers of your grand wisdom, Master? What is your infinite design for the future that awaits us all? What goals must we reach, where must we weave deception and truth, and through what deceitful method?" he asked as the pressure in him receded to a level he could draw breath and exist without the threat of losing all semblance of consciousness.


    "My most loyal followers search through creations for the keys to the looped flask with the horned cork, their shape and nature form reminiscent of the Eternal Slave first calling." the Architect of Fate declared, his countless mouth and beak closing for the one where his pale imitation of a visage was open in a grin.


    "Spread the knowledge of their purpose across the stars, shape the legend of the ancient curse carved in the Universe. But remain discreet, whisper in the ears of the ambitious and desperate; the words of such a prize will echo. Be careful. However, his awakening must not alter the course of his brethren''s tempestuous destiny. Their act of absenteeism must hold true until the time is ripe, and the greats shall fall to never rise again." Tzeentch finished disappearing in a brilliant flash of impossible colors, leaving his audience to ponder and act on his ambiguous edicts.


    "Per your wish, Master, I shall do so with my very soul," Ghargatuloth said with a heavy bow, a self-pleasing smile appearing on his crooked beak as he ignored the glare from his fellow Greater Daemons.


    As all began to warp, fly, slither, dig, and crawl away, they froze for the briefest of instants as a large portion of their scheming master coalesced in the general location of the fleet of intruders and the homeworld of the extinct species known as the Old One.


    Surprise was the emotion ubiquitously shared by all, the moments that had passed not proving the contrary. The Changer of Ways was going to act directly.


    Within the flagship of the Khrave fleet, alarms of all kinds were ringing through psychic frequency only decipherable by the crewmembers.


    "Archdeacon Majun, we will soon arrive on Yugg-the main glyph alphabets detect an immense psychic presence! No, it''s more, far more! The master of the realm is coming to confront us," were the quick words of a female Khrave in a decorated light armor of Palestone heavily reminiscent of Aeldari high ranking armor of a long past war.


    Beyond its appearance, it shares many of its capabilities and utility; you do not change what is not broken.


    The one spoken to was a tall, aged Khrave reaching nearly three meters (~9). His old thin, almost skeletal body thrumming with psychic power was hidden by a grand flowing violet robe, with slits for his large membranous wings and second pair of atrophied arms.


    This robe was an ornate artifact with many symbols of their God depicting their first contact, the Time of Dawn, to this very instant as it continually wrote history in real-time. Around his neck was a gold chain ending in an intricate pendant taking the form of Hoopa''s divine insignia, a pentacle pulsing with even more psychic power than himself.


    "It is as per his divine message, Lower Helmer Jarkla. Abominations do feel fear and will act to destroy the source of such sentiment or act in ways to change it." Archdeacon Majun responded solemnly, his restful bat-like face showing no sign of fear and worry, only certainty of what awaits them on this perilous path, whatever it may be.


    "And what is it to fear from such predictable parasites that we on this holy mission have not been aware of? Death, eternal enslavement, and corruption. Such will be the journey of many of our brothers and sisters, for we lack powers, and sacrifice is necessary. But those are for the journey of the Beast and us, his faithful servant. One we have vowed to follow and understand the entails that followed." he added with enthusiasm, his upper hands moved in clasping motion, the rings and middle finger folding to the palm. At the same time, the pinky, index, and thumbs touched their mirror tips.


    His cyan eyes glowed glee at fulfilling his purpose of existence while a smile showing long, pure white fangs appeared on his face. And he was not alone in all Cruisers, such chants, prayers, and rituals repeated by every passenger.


    Their collective psychic energy fixed itself on the fleet and culminated into an interweaving spell in preparation for the imminent attack. Though not one of offensive nature or even defensive, for it was impossible to resist a fraction of even a Dark God power in its realm.


    Then it happened: a creature, no, a thing beyond the imagination of the most depraved and insane, appeared in the middle of the fleets. An abominable monstrosity above any and all mortal comprehension enough to crush all rationality and heal madness only to birth it again in an endless dance.


    Its body was humanoid yet not; its ever-changing form, waves of tentacles, orifices, feathers, mouths, eyes, fangs, and limbs grew like cancerous tumors and mold in a spectacle of kaleidoscopic light and contradiction holding knowledge and destiny, everything and nothing, life, and death.


    Tzeentch had come, and none would escape his grasp.

 26. Divine Retribution

    Within the Crystal Labyrinth, a third of its chaotic psychic essence coagulated into one hyper-condensed point. The effects were evident to all within and even outside of its malleable walls, attracting the curious gaze of all the Warp inhabitants.


    Psychic power clashed against psychic energy in a cataclysmic explosion of light within the realm, all by the presence of the Changer of Ways upon the intruders of his domain.


    The energy fields of the Lethe Matrices within the Khrave Cruisers were of brilliance surpassing the stars themselves. All the psychic power washing over them in storming waves was absorbed and recycled, supporting one another in a feedback loop of ever-increasing intensity, effectively protecting everything within.


    Yet there was a limit, and it was reached and exceeded in less than a scant few seconds. It was too much for the Lethe Matrices to handle at once; the engines overheated, and the cooling and isolation systems were overwhelmed soon after.


    The runes absorbed and metamorphosed far more energy than they were designed to by their creator. However, there was no stopping it; turning them off would immediately lead to the fleet''s strongest defense collapsing and everyone experiencing the raw power of the Great Deceiver, a fate desired by none.


    Regardless, the Lethe Matrices and the Cruisers were made with this scenario in mind: the overflow of energy and its subsequent consequences were points of much importance.


    One by one, the cores opened in kaleidoscope lotuses of lights, and the immense psychic energy was deviated like sunlight upon a silver mirror. This alleviated the other systems and subsystems enough to sustain the mere crushing presence of the Dark God.


    But that was the extent of it, and Tzeentch observed the futile action of the intruders. These insects dared to enter his domains and ignored his changing rules. Still, he stood studying them and their contraptions with great curiosity, interest even, but also a plethora of alien emotions that mortals could not begin to fathom.


    The Architect of Fate wanted to learn more, far more, but his unfathomable sense could not pierce through these fascinating and ingenious runes not even his most gifted servant would have concocted.


    Not of their own wrongdoing, talents were rare, and he did not fault them for their lack of it. Each had roles to play. The runes were still not used to their true potential; they were bastardized, toned, down versions and, to add salt to the injury, incomplete with evident imperfection in craftsmanship.


    Something that had for source the Fallen God but was put into practice by exceptionally less competent individuals, explaining their poor put into practice.


    Still, it was a masterpiece of warpcraft rarely seen, and one that irked him to the highest degree, for even amidst its state far from the excellence it could reach, he failed to comprehend in its entirety.


    It was as if the Warp and all he embodied blockaded him from glimpsing deeper as what he unraveled denatured themselves, greatly limiting the knowledge obtained. And even then, there were concepts within that eluded him and confused him, for they lacked anything he knew; it was alien, an anomaly.


    Logical within the given context, the Magician had for origin a place not of this Universe. And it only made Tzeentch frustrated, and the desire to learn grew more and more.


    His presence led to a loss of knowledge, an ironic travesty, and heresy of the highest order. One that was both irritating and overjoying him in a paradox of emotions and thoughts. Such an impossibility was the source of many possibilities.


    But he was neither a rageful mindless brute nor a childish infectious slug, and he wanted to learn, to reap the knowledge and wisdom of such creations. If an outside perspective did not suffice, he would change it. By force if necessary, and that was of present necessity.


    Countless psychic tendrils of many shapes and colors came from the Changer of Ways'' unthinkable form as they latched against the helpless fleet, ensnaring the energy fields in their contradictory power.


    The act was delicate, surgical, and meaningful; the purpose was not to kill and destroy. They dug insidiously through the defenses with laughable ease¡ªpitiful attempts to fight them, failing in all their grandeur. But gentle as the act may be from one point of view, it wasn''t the case for another.


    "The abomination breached our defense! Follow the protocol. The Beast is with us! We shall show no fear and exemplify our defiance!" a Khrave exclaimed in the command room of the flagship.


    "We have lost contact with Lower Helmer Falka and her ship!" a few seconds later, another said, fury contained under her voice as only the equipment and heavy conditioning kept the irrational outbursts at bay from every piece of information received and the grim picture they painted.


    Like all the Khrave presents, the threat of going feral was real and an ever-present aspect of their everyday life for various reasons. But it was stressed to its extreme for the ones who had volunteered in this most holy mission.


    "The fields are entering critica-aaAaAAAHHH!?" a Khrave screeched in utter agony, his voice of pain both physical and psychic as he fell on the Palestone ground.


    His scream only grew in intensity as he began to convulse on the ground. His limbs twisted, muscles swelled and thinned, and bones cracked. Everything began to distort, but it was not the species'' usual shapeshifting; it was something else, something that was wrong and out of his control.


    It was something far more sinister and horrifying; mouths, teeth, limbs, hair, feathers, eyes, and flesh of every shape and color grew and bulged into a horrific creature, and soon more followed.


    Screech and sounds of body splitting open created a melody of the most insane in a ballet of feathers, tentacles, and blue skins.


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    Yet many resisted the corruption of the Dark God, many choosing to destroy their souls through their armor, robbing the Great Conspirator of his control while all fought back with extreme defiance. A technique originally used to starve the Star Gods and rob them of their prizes, a scorched earth tactic only used in last-case scenarios.


    But there was a safe haven within all Cruiser, pockets of reality resisting the Architect of Fate''s influence if with immense difficulty. The most faithful authority of the Church of the Beast, the reason for it, Deacons were praying and chanting as Archdeacon Majun applied with fervent passion the Five Pillars of Magic etched into their holy scriptures.


    Sensation. Through it, life is born, a new journey to be experienced with every shade, bright or bleak.


    Awareness. Through it, Sensations are understood, and the journey of life becomes real, and confusion diffuses itself into a beginning.


    Faith. Through it, Awareness and Sensation gave life meaning, passion, and purposes, the directions to which the journey leads, and a shield against obstacles.


    Knowledge. Through it, Faith and Sensation shall not misguide Awareness and life itself into an unwanted path to which none could walk back; it creates caution and the deeper understanding of existence with its subtleties.


    Reflection. Through it, Awareness and Knowledge grow, and life flourishes, easing the journey and changing fate itself as countless paths open for Faith and Sensations to direct and experience.


    These five divine edicts resonated through the souls of every Khrave. The amulet nesting on the robe of Archdeacon Majum glowed and created a sphere of psychic power connected in a web of runes to the most important of the entries fleet, warding off the effect of the mutative psychic power of most of its influence.


    Yet it was not enough; it never would have been. But that never was the goal. It was not up to them to fight, not in such a way.


    -Resistance is futile. Courage will not prove to be a rewarding mistress; it never was and never will be.- a voice of many tones and nature echoed across the mind of all, with it a low, amused chuckle followed by the Khrave that had turned into abominations.


    -Mortals, People of the Dawn, Mistake of the Archdjinni, be honored to be graced by my presence, for you are symptoms of my direct intervention. An event so few had lived through, but I did not come to kill, to extinguish your pitiful life as pawns of a deceitful animal desperate for the freedom it does not deserve. Join me, be part of me, accept my gifts, and your existence shall be elevated beyond your grandest dream!- Tzeentch declared, his power of countless facades surging through every Cruiser as rage began to rise through his trapped audience at his words.


    None could resist.


    However, there was no fear as the corruption of fleshes, minds, and souls spread through all without end, sweet lies, half-truths, dark whispers of forbidden knowledge, and realities digging into every stray thought and twisting the essence of oneself.


    The prayers quieted to a low hum, and the resistance dwindled as the sensation of calm washed over the fleet. But that was not out of despair and acceptance; no, it was of certainty, confidence, and delight.


    The spell they had weaved had entered its final phase, but it was a minute part of their joy. The answer to their call was coming, one of extreme violence and straightforwardness.


    "Unholy parasite of the abyss, our prayers have been answered! Face the divine retribution of a true God!" Majun hollered through manic smiles of more mouths than ever as he stood still. His body was not entirely his anymore, but his soul and thoughts were and remained steady to the one only worthy of worship, respect, and submission.


    Below the dark veils of Yuggoth''s high atmosphere, two of the five Blackstone Fortress shifted, leading to an according amount of the pentacles in its atmosphere to follow suit. Runes that had not seen use for eons came to life in a cascading pulse of lights, putting into evidence patterns of impossible design representing stories from time immemorial.


    Energy darker than any other swallowing everything in existence crackled into reality from pentacles, lashing the psychic power of the blooming Blackstone Fortresses. In parallel, they changed form, breaking bridges to build new ones using the surrounding resources and energy, accumulating immense power in instants.


    For one moment, the seals around the ancient planet became transparent, showing a place of primordial wildness, gigantic mountains stretching to the heavens and oceans of depth unseen.


    Then the Blackstone Fortresses fired, and two beams excited Yuggoth, two thin beams of darkness so intense their very presence destroyed the sense of dimension, the concept of length, width, and height inapplicable to them.


    "Is that so, mortal? Quite an arrogant statement from a slave of an ignoramus imprisoned God." Tzeentch intoned curiously through the back of a corrupted body, focusing partially on the amusing mortal, the strongest and knowledgeable amidst the fleet but also the most stubborn.


    The Khrave were magnificent life forms. Psychically gifted, cunning, and deceitful. All with the ability to change from and trick their prey to feed off their ambition. Rarely had the Architect of Fate seen such creatures, and he dearly desired them.


    "What metho-" the Great Deceiver could not end his words that every particle of his psychic presence vanished, his influence dissipating instantly, leaving only traces of shock and dread.


    The environing chaotic psychic stream calmed, the world turned deaf, and all colors and light left the world replaced by grey, black, and white.


    Then all came back in an explosion of countless sensations, and an incomprehensible screech echoed across to the Crystal Labyrinth and beyond to the deepest layers of the Warp as two beams of unfathomable darkness slammed onto the Dark God''s form


    Tzeentch hastily reacted by conjuring in and around him a multifaceted shield of glasses and orbiting mirrors of impossible geometry displaying numberless images, sounds, tastes, and emotions of the past, present, and future, both false and true.


    But it proved futile. To the latter''s immense surprise, the spell confectioned from the tapestries of fate shattered into countless fragments.


    In a cataclysmic explosion, the two dark rays antithetical to all reached their target, where they melded into one, and the Crystal Labyrinth with the Warp itself shook as the master of the domain was impaled by the hungry darkness from direction unseen.


    His evershifting body recoiled with the force to shatter star systems as he was sent in the opposite direction, leaving annihilation behind as he slammed into castles, labyrinths, mountains, and oceans alike. The darkness radiated behind, eroding all indiscriminately, granting true death to all unlucky in the vicinity, regardless of their status.


    The endless Warp seemed to dry for the briefest of moments. Every percent of available psychic power was used to diminish the damage and satiate the shapeless darkness.


    Using this, the Architect of Fate ultimately gained enough control to act, flee, and wisely retreat. Once psychic and dark power reached a crustal mass, the Dark God took the chance and stopped his endless fall by teleporting himself to the deepest level of his realm where he sat, dark cracks pulsing with alien energy in a gaping wound everywhere and nowhere at once.


    He sat silently on a throne of broken marble as he began to carefully tend to his injuries, the pains of intensity and complexity never experienced before. There was much to ponder on.


    The dark, anomalous energy feasted on his essence enthusiastically, destroying itself as it did so in a cycle with only the disappearance of itself


    It was not a threat to his existence, but the factor of importance was in the quantity and quality. It was far, far, far more dangerous. It did not kill; it indiscriminately erased matter, energy, and concept.


    It operated on a different plan of existence and unbiasedly wished to replace all others, but it could not, for it was finite in resource as its source was imprisoned. But for how long shall it be the case? And what of it? How could it be used?


    "Questions and answers for me to build and formulate." Tzeentch intoned as he observed the world, and a dark, agonizing chuckle of amusement and aggravation echoed from him like the rings of damaged bells driving insane to the minds of millions.


    "It was a trick, or was it? A well-crafted trap or a stroke of unfavorable events?" his chuckles ended on this frigid realization. Mouths and backs went on again amidst countless others'' voices, each voicing their opinions and pain in conflicting patterns and logical fallacies.


    The Khrave had vanished from his domain and sight; they had reached Yuggoth. It was evidence.


    Where once they were was leftover of altered psychic energy and within it an encrypted message of a language that should not exist for the following thousands of years using the calendar of this same species from which this language came.


    Snapping a clawed finger on itself, the message appeared in the room and read with a tone of mockery and sardonic joy oozing with arrogance:


    Better luck next time, God of Sorcery. I have more than one trick under my hat, and I do not play by the rules of your kind''s little game.


    "Let''s see what fate reserves for us, Hoopa." Tzeentch declared, burning the message in purple flames. For the first time in his existence, there was uncertainty and trepidation, for he did not know.


    But what he knew with certainty was a new player had awakened and that the game would go on. However, what happened was seen by all aware of what was in the Warp; what it entailed was a different matter, but it was a sign that the gears of change had begun to turn.


    A figure wrapped in a tattered cloak with a grinning theatrical mask for a visage cackled humorously as contrary to his brothers and sisters, he knew what this little remembrance from the War in Heaven was a sign.


    It was not up to chance that some of the Blackstone Fortresses had fired. An idea that some would prefer to believe over the reality of the matter.


    "I have so many tricks to show you, ohohoh!" Cegorach laughed as he placed his hand, a royal flush, and the perfect copy of himself he was playing with exploded into crying confetti.


    He will not have to play alone this little card game from another Universe for long. Oh, he couldn''t wait any longer, but he had to wait for the perfect time to perform.

 27. Purposes

    [QUOTE="The_Bip_Boop2003, post: 101280459, member: 584782"]


    My little psychic vampires had succeeded on the first step of the mission I had given them; I was pretty proud of them. It was a mission of great peril and danger where thousands suffered and hundreds tragically lost their life. Their sacrifice was never to be forgotten.


    Their mission''s primary purpose was to reach Yuggoth at all costs in more or less one piece, something that, without me zapping an annoying fly and pushing it where cancer as it belonged, would have failed and ended rather badly for them but also me.


    Knowledge of utmost importance in shards was in their minds, and I didn''t doubt this psychic tumor would have figured more than I would have liked with them in his hands. Tentacles? Unknown appendages?


    My deep loathing for Tzeentch and his fellow psychic amalgamation of twisted emotions and concepts did not dilute my awareness of their influence. They were exceptionally powerful entities to be respected as such, even further within the confines of their little kingdom, where they were absolute masters.


    So much so that they rivaled and overshadowed me in pure psychic power before my betrayal. Even Asuryan would pale in comparison.


    Though it was in totality as they were spread across the Warp like the mycelium of a mold on a rotting carcass, they weren''t condensed entities with a structure, a metaphorical skeleton like us. Something that made them solely able to exist in the Warp in any stable form and, in general, limited to it. They were natural formation, unrefined, and lacking in versatility.


    Still, they were threats of the highest order and ones I had to comprehend fully to eliminate without permanent damage to the Material and Immaterial and myself.


    I wasn''t unfamiliar with Neverborn of the Daemonic type, but the three ''Gods'' were fundamentally different. They weren''t just powerful Daemon beyond mortal comprehension, and there were millions of those.


    They were no simple denizens of the Warp; they were fundamental aspects of this realm. In a way, they reminded me of the C''tan for Realspace. But it was more, they weren''t intricately connected to the Universe. They were an integral part of it, at least within this region of existence that was the Milky Way and whatever other areas the Warp dipped in.


    A twisted, polluted part of it that once was the Sea of Souls. The words tumor and cancer to describe them were not only derogatory, but they were the truth. They were malignant cancers born out of healthy cells that, through countless trauma for eons, mutated into their current state.


    But all was still an extreme euphemism; they were a byproduct of sapient life itself, the symptoms and not the causes. It was quite like how the Warp-Sea of Souls exists because of soul-bearing life. They were only a mirror of the result of countless years of unfiltered emotions, dreams, and death.


    And that was a problem. What I did with the Blackstone Fortresses was to harm this parasite badly, but nothing more, nothing less. He would recover in due time and try something as if not more stupid. A supremely intelligent and arrogant self-destructive idiot, a theme far too common for my liking that I debatably wasn''t so far off depending on the point of view.


    Anyway¡­ What I did cost my shields a non-insignificant amount of their lifespan. I couldn''t just constantly fire and hope it would end well. The integrity of the shields depended on a lot of factors.


    This was why I couldn''t just pelt the three, Tzentch, Khorne, and Nurgle, to extinction or at least to a point they were incapacitated.


    To extinguish them, the options I had were minimal. Overall, there were two choices for their disappearance to happen.


    The first was the wide-scale neutralization of every living being, organic or not, for a few eons for the creatures of the Warp to starve to death. But with this one, like cancer, there might be a chance they come back. The patient was still alive, and so potentially, some surviving diseased cells could fester again.


    The second was the destruction and recreation of the Warp into the Sea of Souls, something I could do in theory but with plenty of preparation and a lot of help, but it would result in almost all forms of life dying. To start from a new beginning. At least it would be permanent; the patient would be dead, and from it, new life would bloom.


    To put it mildly, the most reasonable option was another one, and one the fucking toads were masters in; the act of putting it under the rugs after sealing it in a solid box, but that didn''t work out very well for them, heh? I wasn''t going to ignore another person like me to exist.


    Overall, it was a nigh impossible task that only increased in difficulty with the fact this was not a vacuum and that the Dark ''Gods'' were not passive creatures.


    For the present, I had other things to focus on than worrying about these parasites, notably the secondary goal as to why I brought the Khrave here. There were many ways to word it, but there was no need to sugarcoat it; there were to be my workforce, feet, and hands.


    My authority across Yuggoth lay lines of runes and beyond was vast but ultimately restricted to the defense systems and a few others. I didn''t push my luck too far when I fiddled with the various systems incorporated into the rocky planet; I was constantly watched and asked questions with only the ''truth'' acceptable answers.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    As such, I lacked control over many things like the Celestial Wheel that would let me, as its namesake, pilot the planet across space quite similarly to any Cruiser. Then, there was one of two Blackstone Foundry in existence in the underbelly of R''lyeh, the other being in the Celestian Enclave.


    There were likely a few more, but their location was unknown and of little to no use unless a C''tan or Necron knowledgeable in using and accessing it helped me. I needed this material. The Blackstone Fortresses had worn down immensely the two I had used with unrestricted darkness barely holding together for the shields.


    I didn''t know these constructs'' every inner working like Vaul, but enough to repair them at an acceptable level where they weren''t old things barely holding together with glue, duct tape, and friendship.


    And that was only two examples out of many more. But the most immediate reason for the Khrave coming here was to build gates to teleport everything and anything from point A to B instantly.


    A project that one of the Great Old Ones with the dead lizard bitch had begun but not finished. One that she refined to make my golden rings and me and, from her words, one of the hardest aspects about me to design.


    It was to have a safe and quick route from Yuggoth to the Dark Cradle.


    The Labyrinth Dimension was unusable due to my siblings'' dominion over it. Moving through Realspace was too slow and risky as the Aeldari would eventually spot the Khrave, and I didn''t doubt the first contact would be less than civil from either side. Finally, the Warp, while rivaling in quickness the first, was excessively dangerous and unpredictable.


    Though rest and recovery were of the matter at the moment before beginning anything.


    ''Ah, psychic corruption and partial possession¡­ Nasty little things, aren''t they?'' I thought, observing my bats move out of their Cruisers that had landed in a body of water made of dreamy clouds leading to a path of fluffy cotton.


    Their appearances weren''t pretty to look at; Tzeentch didn''t miss them, and it didn''t stop skin deep. Soul and mind had been tempered, but it was not a finality. What here would be considered the highest level of injuries with death not even granting in all cases release was, at best, a mild inconvenience.


    Corruption of that nature was no new phenomenon to the Old Ones, with the Krell existing and doing worse on several levels as they fed and not only twisted. As such, there were effective methods to deal with it, which was up in the open free of charge or any higher authority required.


    Hate them as I might, the toads weren''t plagued by many of Humanity''s vices, and no matter the status of the wounded, the highest level of healthcare was given for free to all by order of the Great Council.


    It wasn''t out of empathy or care, though, but practicality and rationality. A crippled member of society was a burden, and a dead one of no value.


    This place of healing was Dylath-Leen, a city-like facility of many specialties carved into a plateau of translucent stone where crystalline water flowed, and flowers of countless colors bloomed year-long, creating an essence of healing body, mind, and soul.


    Under my careful ministration, my little psychic vampires were back in tip-top shape with only reminders of their trauma memories and hideable light scars. But for the one that had committed suicide, I couldn''t do anything; I wasn''t Isha or Morei-Hag, and death on such a level was the end.


    -My most faithful believer, Majun, the wounds have been sealed, and life is abound. The time has come. You may begin the construction of the Golden Gate.- I sent telepathically to the aged anthropomorphic eight-limbed bat who jolted awake from his head-down sleeping position, planting face first on the ground.


    I caught a chuckle from reaching him. It may or may not have been on purpose he woke up like this, but he didn''t need to know. He shouldn''t sleep so close to the ground.


    -Yes, my Lord! Your vision shall become divine truth!- he sent back hurriedly teleporting to his feet while clothing himself in a snap of clawed fingers, the shame of what happened thick in his mind but drowned by the excitement of what was to come.


    What followed was a terrific show of efficiency in the task given to complete, as they should. Those were not random Khrave. They were the cream of the crop, the best of the best of their species, and if not ones with the potential to go far beyond the norm.


    Discipline was of utmost importance, as was work ethic and striving for the closest to perfection. Failure was a matter of life and death; none could be too harsh, but it must be constructive and purposeful. Behavior against the common good was heavily punished.


    But they weren''t my slaves; they were servants, my servants, and not unimportant mortals to use and throw away once broken like a tool. Rewarding and caring for them was crucial.


    Nonetheless, I wasn''t their babysitter. There was a delicate balance to keep up, a distance between us, at least for the majority. Like any figure in my position, I had to pick and choose adequate people to favor over others. Heralds to select in some.


    Mandatory rest and ''holiday'' with pass time were not only recommended but more or less obliged by social pressure I put. Food was in their Cruisers through emotional fountains, and with a belly full and great motivation, they worked hard and joyfully, always awaiting the next day to show me their worth.


    Most of my presence was guiding and teaching them what to do to its last details. And it was done parallelly on Kamal, the capital planet of the Khrave, where the other end of the project was done.


    The portals built for it needed to be synchronized. It was the most important step and one that would lead to more connections in the networks under my command.


    And today, upon a sky showing the horrific beauty of the Warp and another, the ever-starless night of a world hidden in a dark cloak was an event of utmost importance. The culmination of close to three centuries of ceaseless work taking the shape of two massive golden rings floating in the air amidst their intricate fortress of gold, purple, and dark grey, originally fusing with them into megastructures surpassing the tallest mountain.


    The Golden Gates, as I so novely named them. They were a downgraded version of my rings, but it didn''t change the incredible feat of magical engineering behind them that had never been used for various reasons. Until now, that is.


    Looking through the eyes of millions of Khrave, I attentively observed their actions as the finishing touches to the gates were done. My whispers and advice are ever-present at the back of their mind, fixing their mistakes before they ever occurred in their minds and they made them.


    Though it would be more akin to their limit, just like a human building a quantum computer by hand, tools and knowledge were required, but they could only do so much. It was something requiring more than precision. But that was me being a perfectionist and wanting every little detail to be correct.


    -People of the Dawn, I''m immensely proud of your accomplishment, but it is one step of thousands more. Be proud, and never forget your origin and the price of one''s progress.- I spoke through their minds, and after this, I acted.


    My legs crossed, I hummed an energetic tune from a long gone simpler past as I popped all my rings out of their sockets. Using my bats, I channeled a fraction of my authority through them over Realspace and Irreality, bypassing the Bottle of Sealing.


    My body glowed as a fanged smirk grew on my beak, and I synced my rings to the gates, causing runes to light up and portals akin to the most beautiful constellation on a clear sky of Summer to come to life.


    "But I can''t just portal myself out of this prison¡­" I chuckled self-deprecatingly, my rising mood going down by only a fraction. Oh, the frustrating irony, but to go out, what I did was not even scratching the surface, and such an evident loophole was taken care of.


    I just shared some of my essence into two rune matrices for them to turn on and do a two-way street between fixed points in space.


    Suddenly, my focus shifted one of the keys to my freedom speed across the cosmos. And my tail moved in curiosity, mirroring my mood.


    "Hmm¡­ One was found. A first in history. Who might be the lucky one? A Krork? No, it doesn''t feel like it¡­ Let''s see." I intoned in a singsong way, and as senses came to me from this out-of-body experience, my eyes bulged slightly.


    Three things stood out: green, violence, and a peculiar brand of mental impediment.

 28. The Ork and the One Ring

    Deep in the crust of a dead planet orbiting a young blue dwarf was something none sane would expect to see: life. But it was even more exceptional than this; this was no planet inhabited uniquely by primitive single-celled organisms.


    Underground were countless tunnels dug by the apex predators at the top of a complex fauna and flora, all of the subspecies one another of both animal and mycelium nature possessing the ability to multiply exponentially via asexual reproduction.


    They were an ancient species shaped by the claws of the Old Ones, a hyper-adaptable organism of genetic perfection only rivaled by a select few species of similar ancestry.


    But they were far from the high that once upon a time they had, their size, strength, durability, and intellect greatly reduced, with their only remaining trait were their verdant green skin, their resilience to inhospitable environments, their ability to multiply infinitely, their gestalt fields to control reality limitedly and a love for violence comparable to servants of the Lord of Skulls.


    Hundreds of thousands of them were doing various things from senseless to somewhat meaningful; some were building, some fighting, some eating, some killing, or the three last together and with euphoric joy, one only an innocent child would have. But that was only a fraction of a plethora more within the hive of activity.


    Amidst the green tide of movement were miners, the ones that dug the tunnels for storage, resources, and, most importantly, fun. Their hearts were beating excitedly about the possibility of finding a tunnel from an enemy clan as it led to what any self-respecting Ork loved: krumping but not any krumping, a good krumping. The best kind of krumping.


    Friends or foes: it didn''t matter that much. Speaking was second, though sometimes it was third and fourth behind hitting, shooting, and smashing. Everything was a nail, and the mind was that of a big hammer. If there were contact, excessive violence would be the first words of both parties, and they would thoroughly enjoy it.


    The qualities of a good krumping were not decided on any outside factor but on the act of krumping itself; as such, it didn''t matter if it was a supposed ally getting krumped. It was a complex yet simple philosophy that was the source of much conflict in Ork''s shambles of an unstable society.


    "Diggy diggy ''ole-huh?"


    And one of those miners that was singing with his fellow miners an offkey if enthusiastic melody about digging holes suddenly stopped, not of his own volition. His drill, a primitive contraption of rusted metal and rock bits painted blue for good luck, had suddenly stopped working with a sound of metal snapping.


    The tip had bent and broken off while the body of the tool shattered into hundreds of random pieces, each more devastated than the last.


    "Wot is zogging dis?!" He roared angrily, glaring at what once was his tool with beady eyes full of anger, disappointment, and betrayal of a most trusted friend, breaking all that was sworn upon blood and alcohol.


    But before the explosion of frustration, something caught the Ork''s eyes, something where he was digging, something incredibly shiny and pretty. It appeared to be of another level of reality, one above all. Something not even the most beautiful trinket of the Boss would ever hope to reach.


    It was a piece of junk, but not any piece of junk. It was the shiniest and prettiest piece of junk he ever saw. An immaculate golden ring repulsing all filth in existence, lodged atop it was a gemstone reflecting all light. It was of incredible beauty and ever-shifting color that, as his focus grew, seemed to settle on a prismatic green.


    The best of color, as it was reading his mind or knew that it was factually and scientifically proved that this was the most magnificent and noble of color.


    Without awareness of what it was or care for it, he grabbed it between his green, meaty, dirty finger, but the ring was far too small to be put on any of his digits. He still tried to force it on his pinky with no success.


    Any amount of force used to bend the small thing proved useless, but then an idea flashed in the smooth groove of his brain, an idea worthy of the most cunning of Oddboyz.


    If a finger didn''t work, then a tooth would.


    Not only would it be easier, but it would be far more showy and blinding. And if he recalled correctly from a whisper, the Boss had heard rumors that this type of thingy would be good. How or for what, he didn''t know, but that was a problem for the future him.


    For now and evermore, it was his and only his.


    The ring between his meaty green-skinned fingers was immediately placed on his right tusk; while he did so, a massive childlike grin appeared, and he didn''t realize it had shifted to adapt to the teeth.


    "Oi! OI! Lookit me, lookit me teef, ya''ll buncha ugly gitz! Found meself dis shiny ring fing! All shiny and bestest green shinying wee that pretty stone! I''m da flashiest, and da most handsomest Ork around!" he boisterously exclaimed, jumping on a fallen rock to his fellow miners, who all at once stopped their task to bask in his newly given glory.


    All too dazzled by his outstanding handsomeness and beauty brought by the pretty ring enhancing what already was present.


    Or that was what he thought, but it soon proved to be only that. A thought, a figment of his imagination that was tragically shared not with the entrancing melodious chuckling voice in his braincase¡­


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ''WHO''S IN ME NOGGIN''!? GIT OUT SO I CAN KRUMP YA!'' He ordered in his mind, and the chuckle only grew to disappear suddenly, an image imprinting itself into the Ork mind, nay soul replaced it.


    It was a great horned shadowy figure with piercing red eyes observing him amusedly, which caused existential dread and the desire to flee, to never come back and hide. A creature incomprehensibly above the Boss or anything else that reawakened primordial instincts long forgotten by the passage of time


    A shadowy figure smiling menacingly yet not with a mouth full of pearly white fangs of which two tusks stood out, creating an image of absolute power and one to obey within the confusedly terrified Ork.


    -I wish I could, my dear mushroom boy, Kurgal. But I cannot. My situation does not permit me to meet you and suffer your oh-so-terrifying might, but enough babbling. A spectacle will come, Holder of the Key, and your path will be short. Good luck, may the odds be in your favor, no matter how skewered they are.- The dark figure said with a larger grin and a last hearty chuckle before ending the vision to the befuddled Ork, whose list of questions did not see an end or beginning for that matter.


    Kurgal did not have the time to process what happened when a fist from his closest fellow miners connected with his belly, causing crimson blood to spurt out of his mouth. He was flung backward against a wall and exploded, all semblance of regal he tried to imitate gone.


    "Why ya zogging gitz punched me?!" He exclaimed in outrage, standing back, taking a random pickaxe, and looking around until his eyes locked on the culprit.


    Alas, he didn''t manage to find the earlier mentioned culprit, but that didn''t matter as a massive brawl began, and he was the main target, or more accurately, what was around his tusk. But that, indeed, was because they were jealous and wanted to steal it.


    And so¡­


    "Ya ain''t eva gonna get it! It''s me precious shiny ring, ya git it?! WAAAGHH!" he yelled, his warcry with a mad-eyed gaze, and hundreds more followed in an ever-rising crescendo of ecstatic cries from the violence to come.


    The bedlam had begun and rapidly spread, attracting more Orks, who then attracted more Orks in return. Through this way, in a short few minutes, the bloodthirsty inhabitants of the part of the underground exploded into a death match of omnipresent proportion.


    Countless light years away and hidden from the sight of all in another plane of existence, the one that had communicated to Kurgal observed the chaos through the Ork''s mind with great amusement.


    "So that is the descendent of the Krork, the Ork. Built-in genetic degeneration in practice is truly a sad sight to behold." Hoopa said, observing the one who got his ring, punched a fellow Ork and caused a chain explosion with the barrel of gunpowder placed all around as if it was on purpose.


    And it very much was from snippets of memories he garnered, a relatively simple act. Though he wasn''t snooping around in Kurgal''s mind, no, it was far less but far more insidious.


    He sends through the ring weak psychic impulses, each ending with a conscious or subconscious response of the Ork. Each response was studied, decrypted, translated, and then, with the others, they were assembled into a comprehensive bundle of data for him to use.


    It was remarkably easy with Orks; their memories were excellent, and their nature made it all the easier. But what truly mattered was the lack of defense or understanding from Kurgal about what was happening aside from a mixed bag of fear, confusion, and frustration with joy.


    Someone more powerful and experienced could stop some of Hoopa''s probing, but that was neither here nor there, and this type of person would have to be rather exceptional. And would not put random, clearly magical, and very likely horrifically cursed artifacts on their person.


    If Hoopa wanted, he could overwhelm the wearer''s thoughts and, with care, puppet him or her, something he wasn''t a fan of, but if it came down to it and there wasn''t any option, he wouldn''t hesitate. He was stubborn, not self-righteous.


    This was why none should act like this Ork and wear it without care; it created a telepathic link between the wearer and Hoopa, which was limited to the surface mind. But creatures like him didn''t need much more than that to do their magic. And he was far more slippery than any Daemon with only his brother Cegorach above.


    Something that Cthylla, the moment she cursed him, was likely aware, but the curse was more of a prison than anything else. The keys to open his cell were still a part of him, like the cell itself.


    In the end, it was memories, sensations, and complex scenarios warped from the owner''s points of view and, as such, to be taken with more than a few kilos of salt. Hoopa wouldn''t trust the mind of a run-of-the-mill Ork and consider what was within as absolute truth.


    And it was an interesting case of psychic biology. The Ork were almost clones of the Krork. But there were key differences, and those were a more blocky body type, smaller frame, lower strength and resistance, and an overall extreme downgrade in intelligence.


    The decline of the Krork civilization into those primal green balls of muscles was a tragedy. The Krork had been a militaristic people focused on the art of war and martial arts with honor at the forefront. Still, they could reason and function in other circumstances, a psychically and technologically developed strictly structured civilization.


    But now¡­ It was incomparable; their greatest strength was their ability for reflection and understanding, and they were gone, replaced by all basic instincts, giving all that an Ork will need to live to kill, build to kill, and die to kill, and nothing more. It was their only source of enjoyment and purpose in life.


    There were exceptions, like in any species, but the exception did not make the rules for good reason.


    The rules were that the grand majority of Orks were no more different than social insects, ants working by the strict rules of their instincts to do what they were designed to without any greater understanding of their actions and capabilities. They could not be reasoned with. Violence for Ork was as vital as the touch of psychic power for Aeldari; without it, they shrivel up and die.


    Another point of interest was the blurry and confused mention of two ''Gods,'' Gork and Mork, one cunningly brutal and the other brutally cunning, or it was the reverse. Two entities born out of all Orkoid psychic gestalt in a never-ending fight and, from what Hoopa could detect, were real.


    There was also a third that was far more obscure in Ork Kultur; he got deep into the shared memories pools, and that would surprisingly be him from what he got, though it was pretty dead as of right now beyond a few cult he felt now that he paid attention.


    But it had potential. Worship was something he needed, and the Orks could provide. However, it would have to be done smartly.


    It wasn''t that he didn''t like to violently and repeatedly punch things to oblivion. It was one of his favorite pastimes. He was the mage that cast fists in the most literal way with an entire array of spells above mortal comprehension to that purpose for, ironically, the Krork and a few oddballs in the Young Races, but that wasn''t all he was.


    Back to the two Ork Gods, he couldn''t truly gauge how powerful either of them was compared to the Dark Gods or his brethren, and it wouldn''t be a case of who was stronger in the grand scheme of things but who was effective against whom.


    Ork gestalt field in important enough concentration was an effective countermeasure against Neverborn and Daemons. In any case, they weren''t embodying concepts and emotions. The only fuel for their existence was Orks and every subspecies coming from them.


    The two Ork Gods'' threat level was, as such, relatively low, and if worse came to worse, causing a psychic backlash across the many gestalt fields was feasible, making green heads melt and pop with sterility of spore in bonus.


    "Fascinating." was all Hoopa said. It was a point of consideration for the future as those two could be of use, and if not, being aware of them was better than not. Orks were a special case and needed special handling. Like the Krork, they could grow immensely.


    The very gifted ones had the potential, under the right circumstances, to rival the best of Krork, at least in resilience and strength. But Hoopa had seen countless such individuals die like flies. That didn''t mean there was a reason to underestimate them, however.


    ''Amusing spectacle aside, I can''t let this become too loud. To let my ring land in the claws of a Daemon would be a pain in the ass.'' he reckoned, knowing of the rumors the Great Deceiver had spread, ''Let''s send a collect team and see how it works out.''


    Hoopa could already see the absolute chaos this mission would be, but he didn''t have the luxury of waiting with an Ork, having found one of the six key rings. He would have preferred it to be in other circumstances, to have more time, but that wasn''t the case, and he had to act to strike fast and efficiently.

 29. Kidnapping the Princesse

    "Ah, this is where our sensors had detected a birthing ground of those simple-minded barbaric Mon''Keights?" a smooth sing-song voice comparable to the most exotic bird left the thinly smiling mouth of a tall, pale individual draped in elegant form-fitting armor.


    "Affirmative, Lady E?lim, your prizes are living deep into the mantle of this planet and unaware of their great fate." the one spoken to answered respectfully, his head shifting slightly to the side in an almost liquidy that revealed behind onyx black hair pointy ears akin to blade.


    An Aeldari, much like the first who spoke, and with the near totality of the resident in the Cruiser of Wraithbone and masterful psycho-technological engineering. A void ship far above the average in size, defensive, elusive, and firepower to similarity classed vessels.


    Though these gimmicks rarely had any use outside of mock battle and beyond the ability to be swift and discreet, not much else mattered. But they weren''t using both to their full potential either; it would be an insult to themselves to use it against anything unworthy of their presence.


    Though stealth was close to its maximum output, there was no reason to attract the attention of fellow Aeldari for fear of losing their prizes or leading to an extermination squad to purge the systems of the Orks.


    The fact they were in Webways changed little on the matter; it wasn''t illegal, but having attention on them would be quite an annoyance and a political maze of contradictory complexity. Ancient families and petty rivalries of time forgotten rarely ever lead to bodily harm, but they did destroy many.


    "Uncle Hrythyoc, Father, and Mother will be so proud. Those pitiful creatures shall be of good attunement to the shade and design of our new moon palace." E?lim said, blushing and with rising excitement in her heart. An enthusiasm born out of the praises that will come and the method to obtain, the collection, the fabrication, and the conclusion.


    She could barely contain her chaotic emotions inside the room. She was bathing in her intense psychic power, distorting reality as a mere byproduct.


    Orkoids, amidst their countless defects born out of their innate inferiority, such as a lack of reproductive system, were extremely resilient and adequately strong, making them excellent and prized possessions for many things. Notably, it was not only for a source of enjoyment and workforce, but today, it was not for this.


    Their resilience made them the perfect primary materials for living tools, furniture, and construction in specialized markets. Aeldari technology could do miracles of any lower lifeform, turning each into priceless art forms of all extreme and excess. Still, Orks broke those, pushing the possibilities far beyond the norm.


    The only genuine inconvenience was their spore gimmick, but it was nothing a good curing process wouldn''t fix. Stories of destruction had followed, failing these vital processes, but those risks were part of the fun, the excitement, the thrill. And what was there to fear? They have executed death itself.


    -Lady E?lim, Flesh Mender Hrythyoc, we are ready to begin the Green Harvest. The ambidirectional teleportation matrices for delving into the depth have been set, and we await with great enthusiasm your presence and command.- the smooth psychic voice of an Aeldari of feminine quality but distinctly male reached their minds.


    -Then what are we waiting for, Uncle Hrythyoc? Chop chop! Let''s begin the festivities!- the Lady of the Aeldari Cruiser urged, skipping happily with an upbeat tone toward the lower deck.


    "Ah¡­ So young and full of great enthrallment, and such a talent and deep passion for the greatest craft." Hrythyoc said with mirthful eyes and a soft shake of his head as he followed suit, his graceful movement akin to the wind but of superior velocity.


    Within the same timeframe, in a massive cave with a ceiling reaching dozens of kilometers in height, was a banquet of equally immense proportions. Hundreds of thousands of green-skinned muscular creatures were feasting merely and drinking in abandon while skittering between them with the ever-present fear of getting crushed was a far smaller, uglier, scrawny version.


    These were Gretchins, a subspecies born of the Krork and dramatically opposite to the Orks in general behavior. Still, both lived in a perfect symbiosis, one the muscles and the other the brains.


    One doomed to die without the others in some shape or form; everywhere, there was a mighty Ork, and an equally cunning Gretchin was behind. Well, in most cases, but that was in their generality. And those were not the only Krork descendants; the Squigs, serving as livestock, living ornaments, and pets, were equally important, all subspecies forming a superorganism of green and krumping.


    And they were rejoicing at a bloody victory against an opposing clan that had taken the revolution and a brutal leadership change as a sign of weakness.


    A mighty error that ended with the Boss of the opposing clan on the plate of the freshly crowned one, the biggest, largest, bulkiest, smartest, greenest, and shiniest of Ork in the room. The blemishless and magnificent ring around his tusk showed his superior status as he gorged himself upon the seasoned brain.


    -You see, I was correct in using this strategy, my dear Kurgal. Rushing in head first, crying a battle cry would not have ended well.- a voice whispered jollily into his mind.


    -Won''t ya eva shut yer mouf?! I''m chompin'', and quit callin'' me dat deary thingy! We ain''t best matey!- Kurgal mentality yelled, and the minute chuckle he got in answer almost tipped him over the edge.


    -That is truly heartbreaking, but if you so desire, my dear boy Kurgal.- the dark figure dramatically faked horror at his own words, but that was too late. Nothing more than jest and tomfoolery, but that was the Gretchin that broke the Squig back.


    "SHUT YER ZOGGING MOUF!" He screamed in red-hot rage, slamming both fists on the bedrock table, every last Ork and Gretchin freezing as his voice reached the entirety of the caves and echoed, creating a wave of deadly silence.


    But before anything else, there was an intense flash of kaleidoscopic light in the most prominent tablet, blinding and blasting all Orkoid and food aside in a blast of sizzling air as a geometrical portal of countless glyphs appeared.


    Then someone walked out, and the click and clack of her boots echoed across the cave as if ported by every air molecule.


    She would be considered the epitome of beauty among her kind, an immaculate natural feature product of millions of years of perfect pairing for the most intelligent, powerful, and beautiful of a lineage of purity matched by only a few. Her long, rosy blond hair was braided into her armor, and the solid light construct grew, forming a pure white dress that existed yet did not impede any movement.


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    "Oh! How sensible and good of those undistinguished beasts to have congregated in a herd for our grand arrival!" She said, her feminine voice enchanting and oh so alien to all her confused audiences.


    "Indeed, it will ease the burden of our hunt in the sinuous confines of those labyrinths of rocks and stones." Another arrived and said, his onyx black hair billowing in a nonexistent wind as his crimson iris scanned his surroundings with cold exhilaration at such untapped potential breathing before him.


    -Hmm, the squid bird fucker. Annoying timing. Anyway, she insulted you and your boyz. Go have fun for how short it may last, my dear Kurgal.- the entrancing voice said with honest certainty, and Kurgal''s rage that had been interrupted was set ablaze.


    "Boyz! Dem intrudaz, smash ''em, kill ''em, an'' punch ''em! Krump ''em good! WAAAAAGGGHH!" He bellowed, and like an alarm, it created a chain reaction, awakening every Ork from their surprised state into one of alertness and thirst for violence.


    "WAAAAGHHHHH!" The closest to the first figure screamed, a metal pike in his hand going down to cave her skull.


    Alas, it was never to be. With a flick of her wrist, the world veered a shade brighter, and the Ork turned into a fine red mist, just as the hundreds behind in a cone formation.


    "Metal, stone, and bone apparatus, really? How uncouth even by their abysmal standards. Drearily more primitive than anticipated but expected of Mon''Keighs to never lack in despondency." E?lim scoffed, both disappointment and joy in her voice as both weaker and stronger opposition brought different enjoyment.


    But it changed little to nothing. Those creatures'' weapons would have never pierced her psychic shield, less be mentioned her physical and metaphysical armor and overall defense. Her bare skin would suffice.


    "Do please try not to damage them too much, Lady E?lim. I know and emphasize with your excitement, but the dead are unfeeling, freed of their mortal coils and its beauty." Hrythyoc intoned sagely, walking behind her like a guardian, his grandfatherly tone dramatically opposing his actions.


    From both of his wide open palms, three runic hexagons spun into existence, the symbol of healing, defense, and fortitude in evidence to anyone knowledgeable in the arcane. As their first circle ended, torrential rivers of crystallized dark blood flowed and shifted in the air like thousands of snakes, living whips obeying his every minute movement of experience only millennia upon millennia will grant.


    And as the blood''s whips snapped in the air, creating shockwaves, they snaked among the advancing horde of greenskins, brushing delicately against their skins and leaving behind millions of microscopic needles. However, the air was also an effective vector to carry them.


    That was where the magic began. Each needle bloomed, rooting itself into the thick skin like a hot knife through butter; from then, they replicated themselves using the moisture available, draining the blood of the living Orks screaming in shocked pain.


    In mere seconds, the targets saw their entire bodies weaken, limbs atrophied as they reduced dramatically in size and mass. Ultimately, they crystallized into the very same crystal that had touched them.


    The entire process was excruciating, even for Ork, but it did not kill. It was not a spell to sow death on the battlefield. Its original purpose was to suture wounds and promote rapid healing for further care. Touched victims remained awake, conscious of the agony and alive, their vitals safe from harm and kept in a stable state by the crimson crystals.


    The partially crystallized Orks were then dragged back into the portal by the crimson whips, the current within the lifeblood shifting in reverse. Ultimately, they were to be neatly placed in a massive storage chamber. There, they will lay for a time unknown until they are deemed of use, where they will be rehydrated and brought back to adequate health.


    Until then, their minds would be fully aware, always awake and screaming in an endless void with their only sense available was pain. This was only the beginning of their journey to greatness.


    As this was happening, E?lim did not stay idle. Her gauntlets and boots had grown into immaculate blades as dark as the void of space had grown. Above them, on the wrists and ankles, were golden rings shining brightly in the dimly lit cave.


    She danced on the battlefield like an ice skating ballerina, her image multiplying by the dozen as doppelgangers manifested into reality and obeyed her command.


    Much like Hrythyoc''s spell, it did not kill. Its current level of intensity was not for such boorish purposes. It ignored all physical barriers cutting through the souls and minds alike; it could permanently kill Daemons and Neverborn.


    Only her movements of surgical precision were the reason for the lack of death on her many paths as all left behind were falling, screaming silently on whatever lay below them, the control ever their body lost replaced by an agony beyond the realm of Realspace. Behind Aeldari came in flocks to collect the bodies swiftly in their psychic grasps.


    "Oi, ya! Pointy ''eared cheatin'' fat grot! Stop killy ma boyz! Come ''ere an'' scrap wif me! I''m gonna krump ya ta bits an'' show where ya belong!" The largest Ork of the green tide, the Boss, yelled at her, the real her as the little dark voice said, and it was with quaking fury that his booming, grating voice reached her and attracted her attention.


    She fully understood his primitive language of grunts, not needing a translator as a crutch. Through thousands of cycles, she had heard them both by voices and minds and even without this having a grasp of inferior lifeforms, language was a must to understand them and what worked best on them.


    Though his insult did not faze her, not only was it childish, lacking in poetry and nuances, but it was from such a creature. Reacting to it negatively or taking it personally would insult all that she inspires and is, extending beyond herself to her family and the Aeldari as a whole.


    "Oh, what is this queer artifact? I want it, I desire it, it calls to my artistic soul!" She said, almost with a squeal. Her focus on the big Ork was short-lived as it switched to the strange ring on one of his tusks, something that, by all accounts, was not Orkish. It vaguely appeared Aeldari but not modern; it was beyond ancient and in no way fit to be on such an unsightly animal, even more so on such a place.


    "OI! Don''t ya be ignorin'' m-" the Ork Boss didn''t manage to finish his sentence that she was right in front of him, his eyes widening immensely out of astonishment. But he didn''t have the time to bore his massive mining drill armed with many cannons on her, and neither did she react that an arcane circle with many five-pointed stars at their feet appeared.


    "Wha-" both Kurgal and E?lim said in their respective languages. At this very moment, the circle of runes went alight, and a third of the cavern became white, all sound vanishing just as the two that once were at the epicenter of it did.


    There was a moment of silence at the realization of what happened in the crowd, the sheer shock, impossibility, and horrific implication quickly washing over the mind of all. If for different reasons.


    "Sum git orknapped da Big Shiny Boss!" a Gretchin screeched, sending waves of panic across the already distressed Ork horde that exploded into chaos, the one physically and mentally able running with an evident lack of care for their brethren, formation or logic as they stampede on one another.


    "E?lim!" Hrythyoc snapped back to reality and bellowed, his psychically amplified voice echoing far and wide as he shifted his spell, turning the runes into their opposite. He jumped and rode the river of blood as any and all Orkoid on his path were pulverized, thousands upon thousands dying in a mere instant.


    Reaching his target, he jumped with his bloodshot eyes, scanning the blurry burnt mark on the ground, symbols of ancient nature marked everywhere, and others entirely unknown. Doing hundreds of checkup spells to know what happened, his features only continued to distort themselves into a visage stricken with grief, rage, and horror.


    -What is happening, Flesh Mender Hrythyoc? Lady E?lim''s presence has suddenly vanished! And an unknown vessel had been detected briefly entering and exiting the Materium!- a voice from the Cruiser reached his mind, and his emotions became known to all Aeldari.


    -Lady E?lim has been taken by an unknown force knowledgeable in the Dark Arcane. This is a matter of utmost importance; we cannot act rashly in the blazing fire of our emotions.- Hrythyoc stated with cold fury, glaring at the cave ceiling as if his gaze pierced the kilometers of stone above him.


    The Dark Arcane, a name that brought fear and curiosity, was all but misleading, as there was no inherent malice in them. Not that it was of importance. It was due to their origin. A forgotten God, no, a God that his brothers and sisters forcibly erased from history records. Or so it was until they destroyed and became distant and aloof, and then their lies of times beyond times slowly resurfaced.


    The Original Sin, the Great Betrayer, the God of Darkness, the Dark Prince, his presence hidden by ignorance as he was everywhere. He was only known as the monster in bedtime stories for the young blood. His essence imprinted every aspect of the Aeldari Empire, be it in custom, runes, and sciences.


    The one true God and this was a most heretical anomalous use of his blessing for not only on who the magic was done but also the mistakes within. But Hrythyoc couldn''t act for the moment, the Empire was vast.


    -Capture the greenskins to their very last number. They shall be thoroughly interrogated for any worthwhile information. After we shall collapse the star of this system and travel to the family estate.- he ordered and lifted the dozen tons of rock where the runic circle was.


    At the same time, in the confines of a strange Cruiser, two people fell onto the other, one burly and green and the other thin and fair-skinned, the second reducing the impact of the former on the pale grey stone ground.


    "-atakkkbleurggh!" The smaller one gurgled inelegantly after her forehead slammed on the ground. Her eyes widened as she looked around, taking in everything with confusion until they locked into something, someone.


    The greener one was scratching his bald in utter confusion, nerve firing left and right without any sensible answer. The only sure thing was that what was under him was a comfortable mattress.


    "Welcome, Ork and Aeldari." A tall figure wearing a mask in a robe said with regality in an animalistic voice of hiss, low humm, and short hypersonic screech, yet they understood.


    "This is a spell shaped into existence by the magnanimous talons of our Divine Lord. It lets us speak freely. I''m known as Majun, the Archdeacon of the Khrave, devout servant of his Holiness, the Beast." Majun said with devotion as his two pairs of arms and singular pair of wings spread, revealing a golden medallion in the shape of a five-pointed star in a hoop.

 30. Prisoner of Yuggoth

    "What is the meaning of this madness?! I request a hearing with your Master, Mon''Keigh! Let me free, and your punishment shall be light!" E?lim demanded, her pale skin reddened by her anger as she was forced to follow the one that called itself Majun.


    But that was only a facade; internally, she was beginning to feel her anxiety rapidly turn to fear and soon terror. Though not truly at the potential of death, that much was nearly impossible, and the circumstances didn''t bode for such a thing.


    It was irrational. She never succumbed to physical death, and that was likely why she felt this way. It was a known fact that Aeldari had a presumption about such an event. At least, that was what she reasoned from her knowledge.


    ''How can I not use my gift?!'' She tried her hardest to grasp the power of her soul and even the Sea of Souls, yet it failed each time as if a wall of highly viscous liquid stopped her, and she was trying to grasp water. And when she succeeded, everything was absorbed by the pale grey stone, making the wall, ground, and ceiling.


    She couldn''t communicate with anyone, not even Hrythyoc. She was completely cut off and unable to use the lowest level of telepathy. Something that didn''t fail to anger her to no end.


    Something else that didn''t fail to do this was her weapons. Similarly, they couldn''t function either, as they depended on her psychic reactiveness and demanded her to power them. The only thing she had was her armor. There was a problem: it was an armor. More precisely, one focused on ornamentation.


    One of magnificent craftsmanship and provider of excellent defense, but that scantily did go beyond that. There was mobility and a few other features like a portable palace, but that would not help in an unknown vessel floating in a space out of Aeldari''s reach.


    If it weren''t the case, she knew she would have already been freed. And that by itself entailed far more than she liked to admit.


    She only took what was necessary, and how could she have predicted anything else? Her sudden kidnapping was undoubtedly not counted, more so considering she shouldn''t be able to be teleported against her will.


    Still¡­


    "Respond to your better, undignified abomination!" She pressed on, walking in front of the tall, winged alien whose gaze barely shifted to her, his golden mask in the shape of a grinning horned beast doing little for her to read his emotions. A mask that the Ork had recognized, but his babble made little to no sense, and their values of even higher inferiority.


    "Yeah! Answer da questions af da cheatin'' panzee tall baty git!" Kurgal warped in a blue rope floating in the air, concurred with the Aeldari. His current state of his own doing, but he didn''t complain more than that; he liked having the high ground, and he could nap.


    Archdeacon Majun stopped moving, his robe billowing to an unknown wind as he observed his audience of two. He clutched the pentacle softly, bathing himself in its calming divinity before he breathed out.


    Both Ork and Aeldari were exceedingly lucky that it was him and not any other Khrave escorting them or truly anyone else with a lick of common sense. He was in his position not only out of his faith and personal power but out of his restraints and strength of will.


    A strength of will that could fight against the corrupting whispers of the most insidious of Dark Gods but was slowly breaking apart in the face of her, a mere spoiled little girl.


    At this very moment, his every instinct screamed to tear both apart, but he didn''t do so. Their constant insolence and stupidity drove one to the brink of rage and beyond.


    But he was above, and so he answered calmly and reasonably.


    "The answers will arrive in due time. Be patient, little morsels." He said with a dark chuckle, the last part sending shivers down both prisoners'' spines at the implications.


    "But what I can reveal at the moment shall be enough explanation to satisfy your curiosity. We have come upon the edict of our Lord to collect a peculiar item, an extraordinary item you do not understand." He snapped two clawed fingers, and the wave of telekinesis tore off the tusk of Kurgal with the shining object on it.


    The response was immediate and violent, even by Ork''s abysmal to non-existent standard on that subject they mastered so well.


    "No! Gimme back me shiny ring and da pretty voice! Giv'' it back! Giv'' it back! Its min-" Kurgal made his disaccord with his actions in much the same way a child merged with someone addicted to illicit substances would, but Majun silenced him with a flip of the wrist.


    Around the Ork head, a sphere of glyph manifested, cutting all sound out of the hysterical greenskin.


    This led to a peculiar sight: Kargul looked desperately at what was taken from him. E?lim was shocked, not a new sensation in the last hour, but this scene¡­ It wasn''t normal Ork behavior, and even in the abnormal one, this was an outlier by a large margin.


    There was a kind of maniacal madness in those dull, beady eyes of his that felt akin to Daemonic possession, but it was different; it was more yet less. It appeared more like extreme withdrawal, but it was too fast for it to happen, considering his weight and size.


    "I wanted to put it on¡­" She whispered to herself with horror. It was a cursed artifact or something with which only a specific wearer had the right to wear it.


    "That would have been unfortunate indeed, depending on what our Lord desired of you. But that I cannot say. His grand vision eludes me." Majun said uncaringly, "Nonetheless, it would have made your presence here a certainty; you are here for the unique reason of your rashness. You have entered the transponder circle of your own volition. Your initial presence has forced us to adapt and act fast, but your mischance and actions are not out of our volition."


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    "We required the Ork only to put into simple words. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it? I do not know. I''m but a humble follower of the Beast of the Dawn." He added cryptically, and that was enough even for the scarred Aeldari to speak up. Fear couldn''t keep at bay her aggravation.


    "Then why do you refuse to grant me freedom at once!? Do you desire total destruction from this affront? I''m E?lim, Heir of the All-Arith Family of the purest and most noble bloodlines! Do you even begin to understand your current situation? You have your pretty toy, Mon''Keigh. Why garner more reason for your coming annihilation!" E?lim demanded with a snarl, and Majun''s wings twitched at loudness before folding below his robe.


    "I do. The Aeldari Empire is mighty and beyond my grasp of understanding, but not for our Lord. The risks and consequences of what is done do not evade us, however. But I will not free you, not at the moment. You have become an opportunity. And opportunities are fate to be taken for our great and eternal path." The Archdeacon said cooly, irritation seeping through his hissing voice.


    He had enough of this infernal babbling and snapped his finger, creating a silencing magic bubble around the arrogant toddler.


    A toddler whose tantrum was now silenced to only angry, muffled thumping and limbs flailing. At some point, enough was enough, and her treatment compared to the Ork Boss was that of royalty.


    -My favorite little bat, you seem fairly disappointed. Pray to tell, would you confide to my ears what is on your mind?- a voice Majun was all too familiar and enthralled with reached his mind, and he greeted it with open arms.


    -Yes, Lord Hoopa¡­ How can such an ascended species graced by such wisdom and blessed with an unfathomable understanding of the Universe act in such undesirable ways?- He genuinely asked, as he had seen what was done to the Orks before the capture of Kurgal and E?lim.


    It wasn''t the extermination of a potential threat or any kind of regular harvest. A certain level of violence and pain came with everything; it was in the nature of the Universe, but here, just from a little glimpse, it was excessive to the extreme that, if not for the realness of the situation, would be comical.


    The answers came fast, exceptionally so, in fact, and it was one word that seemingly explained everything.


    -Boredom.-


    -Bor-boredom? But¡­ It doesn''t make sense! They are blessed with the divine guidance of your brothers and sisters! It shouldn''t be!- The old Khrave clamored, incomprehension etched on his face behind his mask.


    His psychic power escaped his grasp briefly, making his muted prisoners freeze in abject horror at the sudden pressure wave.


    For one, it was the strongest he had ever felt, but it paled in sheer terror compared to the voice of the dark-horned monster, and this bat man was certainly, from what was seen, a mere git of this monster. He wasn''t the cleverest, but this was evident with the mask.


    For the other, it wasn''t the strongest psyker she met, but it was at a level that her existence could be erased from flesh to the deepest layer of her soul. Powerful for her age, she may be, she wasn''t past the infancy of her first incarnation.


    -Indeed, it does not follow logic, Majun,- Hoopa agreed to his confused and infuriated follower, genuine worry in his voice appearing and disappearing just as fast.- That is no behavior I would have accepted. Neither would my brethren, barring Khaine and potentially his Consort, for one only cares for violence, and the other is elusive to me. This is not normal.-


    -Though we cannot draw any finite and constructive conclusions from such a small sample. One group of Aeldari is not their entire species, and I hope you understand that you cannot punish the many for the few.- Hoopa finished, the hypocrisy thick in those words only he understood but didn''t feel guilt over.


    The genocide of the Old Ones only brought the Archdjinni of the Rings immense satisfaction, a fact he acknowledged fully. The little humanity in him left wasn''t used on those hateful frogs. It was one of them who took it away to begin with.


    -My most sincere apology for my unsightly outburst, and I offer you my deepest gratitude for this great wisdom, my Lord.- Majun said with reverence as the conversation with his God came to an end, his mind now at peace.


    And so the rest of the journey to Yuggoth passed in the blink of an eye as the small Khrave fleet skidded at the edge of the Warp and Labyrinth Dimension with the occasional dimensional shift to Realspace until they reached a certain location.


    A stellar black hole at the center of the Milky Way, but that was only for the ignorant of what this place was¡ªone of the anchors and gateway to the Dark Cradle. An entry to the hidden dimension, the protective realm of the Khrave, and to enter or exit it, the authorization of Hoopa was an obligate key.


    But as the fleet entered the artificial realm, they didn''t stop. It was not their final destination, merely for this instance, used as a hub where the beginning of a system of portals to encompass the galaxy was being built. And it was through the first of the Golden Gate that they arrived to end their travel, the lost planet orbiting in the Crystal Labyrinth.


    This time, the Changer of Ways was wholly powerless and unable to affect the tiniest of their actions, a fact that was most infuriating and joyful for the Dark God of all contradictions. A veil of darkness protected the People of the Dawn from his direct machinations, for their fate was not to be in his grasp.


    "Observe, lay your unworthy eyes before the homeworld of the Great Enslavers, the most ancient and mysterious world but one lost to time and war," Majun said grandly, beating his tattered wings lazily as he hovered down.


    Behind him, held in the grasp of his telekinesis, were E?lim and Krugal, both wearing strange manacles and other restraints. Nothing more than preemptive measures if either tried something mentally debatable, notably for the Aeldari.


    But in the following moment, the Ork was taken by another group of Khrave, his fate unknown to E?lim as she was beckoned to follow Majun. But she saw the gaze of all; she had been put in isolation, and her contact with those infernal abominations had been limited to the Archdeacon, but the way she was looked at was nothing else than of pure wild hunger and desire for destruction. Yet it was all kept at bay.


    The Khraves disappeared as they began to walk. Each step that they took was a different biome, a coral reef, a mountain chain, an ancient forest, a dark bog, a verdant plain, and more as if countless places throughout time were strewn together.


    And so the three of them were accompanied by hundreds of Khrave of all professions. Passing mountains, ancient forest, fairylike bog, and more in instants as all biomes existed in one instance, yet through different time streams, they teleported to Dylath-Leen.


    Though their, or Majun objective for coming here was far from purifying the insidious corruption of the Warp upon flesh, mind, and soul.


    Entering a chamber of many arcane symbols, Aeldari and Khrave gazed at an ornate chair of a black material darker than the space itself. It was the Cathedra of Mi-go, named after its Great Old One creator and its first user before his ultimate demise. Demise that came on its first use, the time necessary to turn it on was too long, and it was a time critical for his survival, giving it also the name of Sarcophagus of Mi-go.


    It was a relic of old used to purify, unravel, and operate the infected Old Ones'' victim to the extinct psychic predatory species known as the Krell. Mi-go had died due to such an affliction and a lack of time to finish this project.


    And to this day, the soul parasites starving descendants, having fled through the abandoned prison of the Old Ones, now roamed the waves of the Warp, ready and waiting to feast on mortals and Neverborn alike.


    Today, this piece of technology is to be used for another purpose.


    "Sit." Majun ordered, and E?lim hesitated for a second that felt like an eternity, only to be broken by a sharp question, "Or would you prefer that I make you do so, little morsel? The choice is yours to make."


    She obeyed, anger and indignation written all over her features as she hesitantly sat on the ancient healing artifact. It shifted akin to a liquid, embracing her body through the armor, entering in contact with her flesh, and locking her in place from head to toe; the chair stopped her from moving.


    The anger turned to panic and dread, but it was only the beginning as around her head, a crown of branch-like extension grew, and then a wave of immense fatigue washed over her psyche. Her psychic gift returned as the Palestone restraints were absorbed, but this hint of hope at her untethered strength was soon crushed.


    Her new restraint remained unfaltering, and her power was used against nullifying in harmonious symphony her desperate last effort before darkness claimed her and she fell into a profound slumber. The Cathedra of Mi-go could restrain Old Ones, less be mentioned of weaker species.


    "I depart to R''lyeh, brother, sisters," Majun informed the three Khrave that had teleported in, his tone warm and comforting in total dissonance to the tone from earlier.


    "You may begin the soul unraveling and its recording, but be aware, she is not to be harmed in any way. If such things befell her, our Lord will come to know, and heavy punishment awaits you in retribution." He warned, grandfatherly warmth and cold, unfeeling threat mixing as the three nodded.


    Then he walked out. The ring was to be delivered; his Lord had mysterious plans for it, and his presence was paramount.

 31. First Avatar

    Avatar.


    A word that meant many yet so little things depending on the context. For many mortals, it meant nothing, a vague term used to explain what is not understood by implicating false creation in physical phenomena such as lightning.


    But there were exceptions, and that was where the true meaning lay. It was a principle using countless methods for being generally unable to interact with Realspace. A physical representation of their power is in fragments, taking a simplified version of their true form.


    I created such things in the war by the hundreds and the same for the others in the pantheon using our blood, bones, and the like as the central piece of sculpture of the highest quality wraithbone that were then blessed and infused with our power.


    But their uses had lessened to a point they disappeared with the rising intensity of the war, rendering them obsolete. They couldn''t contend with the powerful C''tan remaining and ever-increasing Necron firepower. But at that point, they had served their purpose. They existed only for lesser battles across the cosmos, to thin out the enemies'' number and resources with minimal risk to ourselves if it were a trap or something of the like.


    And what I desired to do was something of a similar nature; remaining in my prison and plotting by using my followers was shameful, irritating, and unproductive. And I couldn''t eat, the absence of the biological requirement to do so not changing my unnatural love for sweets and pastries.


    Though what I had in mind wouldn''t let me do such frivolous things, first and foremost, I needed a versatile tool capable of stealth, defense, support, fighting, and travel. My little bats could only do so much alone with my guidance through words and visions or even voluntary possession.


    Aeldari had more than psychic power, pointy ears, and long lives. They were the sapient mortals race the most attuned to this energy of soul and emotions. It was more. It was a state of existence that let them exist beyond their meat suits.


    To put it into simple terms, the Khraves could not craft an Avatar equal to the Aeldari, even if both crafters were of equal talent and experience. It wasn''t fair; nurture couldn''t beat nature at every step. But that wasn''t their fault. You don''t judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, more so when the squirrel was artificially biologically engineered to be the most efficient at doing that.


    It would have been a waste, to begin with; I could only use a fraction of a fraction of my power outside the bottle due to the limited worship. The many constraints on my person led to a more modest solution tied to the gathering of one of my rings, a key ingredient for what had been made.


    If I had more, I could do bigger, but I only had one at this moment, so I did with what was in my claws.


    My ring will be my focus, a point for me to project corded strands of telepathy. This will be the core of a puppet, the power source of the Warp itself in its undiluted but purified form. Pure psychic energy for me to mold as I saw fit.


    It was a simple puppet, one of two colors, one of brilliant bronze and the other of shining teal, a humanoid with six smooth limbs, sword-like legs, and four tentacled arms. All body parts were malleable into different forms, granting different advantages at the cost of other weaknesses.


    The design was heavily inspired by one of my memories from the same game where a monster was akin to my body. The complete name eluded me, but I knew it had a ''d'' and ''x.'' As such, its name was Danxama, an etymology in Aeldari that would be related to death and memory, meaning the forgotten or the elusive killer.


    I was at this very instant piloting it, moving into R''lyeh, the immense city stretching across the range of star systems in a five-dimensional plane intricately tethered to the lower crust of Yuggoth. Its ethereal beauty and ever-moving activities were gone, replaced by an endless void that never ceased to grow the deeper one would get.


    And the source of this void was me. The Flask of Sealing was not foolproof, and while it blockaded me, it didn''t do so for everything. It was made for me, but its creator died before it was perfected. My awakening had led to this, a dark pressure muting all senses, and each step taken to me became increasingly harder, physically and mentally.


    Psychic power and technology will wane and malfunction, landmarks will shift height and direction will change, and time will lose its meaning.


    Then, when a certain point is reached, the visitors would find themselves unable to move, and if they decided to do so before this point of no return, they would find themselves lost in the infinite underground citadel.


    Though it would be without me guiding them in all cases to reach me, and even then, strength and resilience were required in immense quantities. Only the greatest could hope to come. I could reduce this fog, but it would give the Flask of Sealing time of respite. The seal has weakened in the millennia since my awakening, proving my effort.


    In fact, it was going faster than my estimate; still, I didn''t count on that to free me any time soon. However, it would let myself use more and more power and authority.


    None of this mattered to Danxama. Maybe if it was to get into the Great Council where I lay, but that wasn''t the case and I wouldn''t be able to use it to open the bottle if I had all the rings. It would just not open; I was forbidden from doing so by design.


    I moved the puppet in its speed form, body thinned and head in a recurved star. I advanced within the sunken city and arrived at my objective in under five minutes.


    Halting its movement with a thought, all the kinetic energy was pushed in an immense shockwave capable of shattering mountains. Still, to the massive black door of immaculate craftsmanship in front of it, the result was as expected. Nothing, and it wasn''t designed to sustain attack. Like most of everything here, it wasn''t made with the possibility of enemies penetrating the outer defense.


    And this philosophy was spread across all Old Ones'' creations. For them, it was an impossibility, and as beings operating by the percentage of success and failure with an unhealthy amount of sycophant pride, their choices were heavily debatable.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The only defense for the Hall of Command was a psychotactile biometric reader requiring the handprints and psychic signature of any Great Old Ones. The problem was that it didn''t consider that both could ever be falsified, for all the supposed genius they were lacking.


    And so I morphed the hands of Danxama into the one of my sweet and loving mother, twelve digits counting four thumbs, two on each hand and one on each side. Then, I activated a complex illusory spellwork that turned purified psychic essence into mimicking Cthylla''s presence.


    Runes lit up, and with an earthshaking clack, the doors opened up and down, letting my puppet enter the place that housed the Celestial Wheel. And it had the same security as the door, and I directly took control of it. The device was a multidimensional map combining the Labyrinthine Dimension, Milky Ways, and the old Seas of Souls with the Well of Eternity as the heart and Yuggoth put into evidence.


    Pushing my will into it, I reshaped the part about the Sea of Souls, making it roughly up to date with my current knowledge. Three realms appeared corresponding to the contradictory birdbrain, the diseased slug, and the rageful paraplegic, Yuggoth deep into the first.


    That was to change today; an invisible energy ripple spread across the ancient planet, and its orbit changed under my command. The final destination was unknown to me, for there was none. From then on, the Wandering Planet was born.


    Exiting the Hall of Command, I ordered Danxama to go to the bottom of the city to access and restart the Blackstone Foundry. Though for the latter, I would have to make the Khrave mine the exotic elements necessary, some in blackhole, others in dead stars, and others in the Warp.


    There was much to do, and with what I had discovered in the mind of the twisted Aeldari child, there was little time to waste. I would have to forgo discretion in most of what I had planned.


    Little were the words that could explain the folly that is the Aeldari Empire falling in. Hedonism, vice, excess of all kinds, senseless violence, and that at all levels of society, there were exceptions, pockets of sanity remaining. Still, they were not the majority, and E?lim was part of the gentler side of the madness.


    It was grave, horrifically so. And what I said to Majun was true. It was ''boredom,'' but saying only that would be egregious simplification and veiled truth.


    After the war was won, the Aeldari were supposed to be guided by both Gods and Old Ones, with my little self being sealed away for future destruction along the line. Of course, because I didn''t want to die and was petty, it didn''t happen, and the toads died instead, and I still got sealed.


    To that point, I didn''t see any problem outside of my calculation. The curse aside, I didn''t fear one of the Young Races falling; my brothers and sisters were still there as guides. I had been what I would usually think of Isha: too idealistic. I was too human at times.


    E?lim was cultured, but she lacked information about a lot of things. However, there was enough to know that Khaine rampaged two times. The first was after my betrayal, and his blind rage was aimed at not only my followers but anything living; the second event was far more recent, dating two million years back, and that date was significant.


    For what reason it happened, I didn''t know. Still, it appeared to be of a genocidal nature, a classic of his if the records of thousands of worlds with billions of inhabitants being ripped apart to their souls on each was any indication.


    My psychotic brother failed, and from then, worship that wasn''t in the best of shape already unsurprisingly began to decline further. It also correlated to the reinforcement of the barrier in the Labyrinthine Dimension. I could deduce that it wasn''t only to protect Realspace from the Warp but from Khaine''s second bloody crusade on our people.


    I wasn''t surprised or angry, just extremely disappointed. He didn''t seem to have changed, only gotten worse. The religion in Aeldari society began its eternal downfall, and the Empire culture, with it, both connected and increased one another in a vicious cycle.


    Though there were pockets of reclusive groups that E?lim was aware of, but didn''t see purpose in learning more. They were only ''cultists''; as such, I lacked information, but from what I got, it was either Isha, Kurnous, Lileath, or Cegorach, likely the four. There likely were others, like the little groups, trying to connect to me, but for them, I was working on taking them in with the higher castes of Khraves.


    The actual danger, however, was that we were made to be powered by the worship of the Aeldari, me less than my brethren, for I had other alternatives.


    Worship was a conscious effort, an act that was aimed and filled with deep purpose and meaning. Specific actions and emotions, no matter what will increase our strength, but without a focus it will be nearly meaningless, more so for complex ones.


    And those actions were a source of power, and I didn''t like to depend on them. It was wavering and could go down faster than it went up. I fear it''s the case for the Pantheon, and why Asuryan wasn''t acting didn''t reassure me. He should know and understand what it means.


    Then, the second source of worry, the worship absent meant all those emotions and actions went somewhere else, and most didn''t go to Nurgle, Khorne, and Tzeentch; the bulk of the current Aeldari psychic emanation didn''t fall into their repertoire of activities.


    There were parallels, such as lust for battle and sex or schemes to torture victims and eliminate rivals or diseases for the same reasons, but that stopped there. Most didn''t go to them, didn''t power them in any meaningful ways.


    There was something else, and by the nature of this realm, it could mean anything and nothing at the same time, a paradox without answers, the damage done to the Well of Eternity by the lizard bitch to get my soul only worsening things. Fuck her and her kind. I truly regret not having to make her suffer more.


    What was certain was that these emotions went somewhere, fueling something that was hidden, coalescing and growing hidden from my sight. If it was by the three psychic tumors'' wills, I couldn''t confirm it or by the fourth itself.


    The time streams of the Warp were disorganized, and portions of the Warp from sister realities were pouring in so it could both be here and not simultaneously. It would also explain the strength of the three others. There were what they embodied in the Milky Way, but not enough for them to be that strong.


    Morai-Heg should be able to tell me more, however. Talking to her would be the hard part if she didn''t foresee it to be.


    Another point of certainty was that they were at play in what was happening, at least Tzeentch had with the proverbial fourth. Many hints in E?lim mind pointed to indirect external influence. The ephemeral and legendary Dark Muses, for one, she didn''t know who or even what they were, but words had spread of their inspirational exploits.


    I can''t anthropomorphize them, but if change is what Tzeentch wants, then the destruction of the Aeldari Empire and a new brother or sister or whatever new abomination would grant just that. The same was true for the two others; they didn''t have sapience in the same way others did, nor free will, but they had desires, their growth, and spread, and would act toward that.


    I had lacked knowledge and understanding after my rebirth¡­ My first impression of those ''Chaos Gods'' was horrifically wrong. They threatened my existence; they couldn''t exist, mustn''t exist, and it had become a pressing matter. The damages to reality were a second thought at best.


    I wasn''t going to watch the psychic cataclysm unfold while twirling my non-existent thumb of my six talons. Risk would need to be taken, a new Master would be crafted under my guidance, and so much more.


    Though I wasn''t going with haste, I didn''t desire to get lost on my path by blinding myself in my hubris.


    ?????


    Washing upon the sand of a magnificent beach was the pure salty water of a sea that would be called many names but most widely known as the Mediterranean Sea, one of the most prolific basins of Humanity civilization.


    Walking upon the sand of such a place was a young female Homo Sapiens barely past her nine Summer. She hummed a melody in an ancient language as she happily hopped alongside the calm waves, the dying lodos wind moving her hair softly.


    Her eyes were darting around in search of those strange, funny, and shiny objects from the great depth of the water. They were for her mother, and she was attentively looking for them, and not any of them. She wanted the most beautiful, and she had found the equivalent of five fingers that were in her pouch made of stitched scrap animal hide.


    Then her mouth fell agape, and her iris dilated, poking from the moisture sand and unearthed by the calm waves, was the most beautiful object she ever saw. No, it was far beyond beautiful, the golden shine akin to the Sun and the Moon while the blue gemstone encompassed the bewitching beauty of the night sky and ocean.


    Falling on her knees, she extended her trembling hand toward the divine artifact, for there was no other explanation. It was a gift of the gods, spirits, and nature in all their grand magnanimousness.


    Shakily grabbing it, her breath hitched as if it would break and the wrath of creation on herself and her family. Her heart almost stopped as it shifted to be handled by her, then she gasped, a voice echoed in her mind. The voice of a being above the divine, and it was musical and exquisite to hear, like a heavenly melody.


    -Oh, who might you be, little girl, a new older Holder of the Key or a Prophet of the Fall?-

 32. Humanity

    -Oh, who might you be, little girl, a new older Holder of the Key or a Prophet of the Fall?-


    The little girl froze, eyes widening and body trembling, heart racing, and breathing quickly and irregularly, falling into hyperventilation. But all of a sudden, a sensation of calm and peace washed over her soul, and she felt herself come back from her fall.


    "Wh-what? W-who are you¡­? Where ar-are you?" She asked, her eyes darting all around, looking for the being speaking to her, a being she instinctively felt from deep in her soul was above all that she knew. The voice was merely an addition.


    -The ring young human. It''s through it that I''m communicating with you. As for me¡­ I''m known by many names and titles, but you can call me Shahar, the One who Guide the Lost Souls in the Darkness, the Lord of the Dawn. And you, what is your name, or have you one?- The voice, now named Shahar, said, and there was a long moment for the human girl to find her words.


    "Yes! In-Inanna daugh-ter of Ezra and Acantha." Inanna half squealed, half stuttered, the latter seemingly disappearing; the more words flowed, the clearer they were, as if her mind was lulled into a zen state.


    -Then Inanna, let''s begin our journey back to them.- He said softly, and she stood up, dusting the sand off her legs, and did as the divine voice asked, the idea of never refusing once gracing her mind.


    The same was true for the understanding of words and abstract concepts no one of her status and times could or should understand, the knowledge silently seeping into her mind by the will of Shahar. That wouldn''t do if he were to speak and his audience hearing from one ear and the information slipping from the other, would it?


    "What-at do you desire from me, Oh Great Lord?" Inanna tentatively asked, fear flashing in her eyes as if the mere fact of doing this was a reason to punish her and all she held precious to her heart.


    -There is no reason to be afraid, young human. I will not smite you. As for what do I desire from a mortal? To heed my words, for cataclysm awaits us all, and I wish for your people to survive.- He intoned with a grave tone that made the girl''s heart rate increase.


    -Though do not panic; the Fall is for a time of which you would have turned to dust upon the winds unless you prove to be worthy of perpetuity.- He added with a light chuckle as if the prospect of immortality was nothing of value, not that Inanna understood it. She was too young.


    "Ah, okay." She said there was too much information and little personal knowledge to say more than this. Even with her filling with new understanding, it was all nebulous.


    And so, with the godly artifact held between careful hands, Inanna began the journey back to the village. While doing so, at some point, she started to ask questions about the knowledge she was gaining and her natural curiosity. Each time, she was getting more comfortable.


    "How tall is tall?"


    "What keeps the big fire in the sky burning?"


    "Who fills and empties the sea?"


    "Why do Ma and Da sometimes make loud, happy noises with clap-clap when it''s dark?"


    "When is where?"


    "Is heaven made of meat? Can I share it with my little brother and eat it together?"


    And these types of questions, most random and senseless, with some minutely more interesting than others. Half ended without an answer, and the other with varying responses from Shahar.


    -Silence.- At this, the human girl obeyed. This was not as soft as before. It was an order, and her mouth shut down, and as she was going to ask, Shahar stopped her.


    -You can think, and I will hear you. There is no necessity to speak. Put the ring on and follow my instructions. There is something prancing around here. Something that would happily feast on your entrail and beating heart.- Were his words followed the next instant by her mentally agreeing in confused fright.


    Then she clumsily put her hand into an odd praying position, tips of thumbs, index and pinky fingers touching one another while the middle and ring finger folded for both to connect by their middle phalanx.


    A prayer that the Khrave knew, but here it was pretty different in what it could with the Key of the Flask, a fragment of a God, and through miracles become a reality. Minor in the cosmos but immense for mortals.


    Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth opened as she entered a trancelike state. The voice that left her lips was hers, yet not. It was distorted both high-pitched and deep with words of a language unknown to this planet, Anoqey?n. The language of magic itself. As each verse ended, the incantation became faster, soon reaching speed beyond what was biologically possible.


    The world''s light grew dimmer, the movement of the air and the leaves abated, and for a breath of time that seemed to stretch for eternity, every sound ceased. Then, in front of Inanna, reality fractured, and all in half, circles exploded into shards of what once were the packs of wolves waiting, exploding into countless fragments of bones and flesh.


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    She fell to her blood trickling from her eyes, nose, and ears, her hand clutching the forest ground as she breathed heavily.


    She lifted her head, and her wide-open eyes stared in shock at the devastating result of her words, for hundreds of meters all but annihilated to pieces of glass. Then she felt like her mind had expanded, connected to something incomprehensibly large, an endless well of energy, and she gazed at one of her hands crackling with blue electricity.


    -How do you feel, Inanna? How does it feel to be the first psychic human to walk on this earth?- With this grand, a sensation of calmness washed over her, stopping any strong reaction that could potentially lead her to harm herself by mistake.


    "Incredible¡­" She said breathlessly; the realization of what happened and what it meant was impossible for her to comprehend, but what she understood was that all would change from that day.


    -Excellent, let''s heal the damage upon your body first, and we should continue. There is a lot for you to discover and experience. Dying so soon would be unpleasant.- Shahar or, more accurately, Hoopa said as he guided the future Mother of Psyker onto her first ritual to heal her wounds.


    He had much planned for this species he once was part of, but to enact those plans, he needed to start little, and awakening the latent psychic potential of humans was the beginning.


    Of course, all within the freedom of those future individuals, though it would be more than simple hubris from his obsession with that subject tied to his history but also divinities. They were so much more than control over aspects of reality and unreality. They were an integral part of him and reflected in his everything.


    Though he was very good at deals and powers came at a price, a price that he counted on to claim in due time in itty-bitty favor.


    But then again, it would be for millennia ahead, and at the moment, he would have to play the imaginary, not-so-imaginary friend of a mortal girl.


    ''A never-ending cycle of masters for me to obey? Is that so, Mother¡­ You need to word your order more precisely, a lesson not even in imminent death you have learned.'' He internally chuckled, guiding the first psyker on the correct shape of the pentacle and where the wolves'' organs shall be.


    Countless light years from there, in the heart of the Labyrinthine Dimension, or Webways as it more commonly came to be called, was an ancient palace of immaculate gold upon white marble, creating a place beyond the realm of art.


    And within the center of this palace, the Celestian Enclave, was the Thrones Room. Sitting on the most imposing thrones, one of the molten stars and living flames, was the Phoenix King, Asuryan, and his blazing-eyed shinned staring into the incompressible treacherous waves of the Warp.


    Speaking of traitorous¡­


    "The Traitor has awakened." He stated matter of factly with cold fury, hands clutching on the armchair and shattering them as his revelation echoed in the ears of his brothers and sisters.


    The first to react was a figure almost parallel to him in appearance if not for the violence and aggressiveness made manifest into physicality. Rage of immensity far superior to Asuryan radiated from his form. It was so bright that it exploded outward, ignoring all barriers and echoing through the veil into the chaotic psychic realm.


    Without words but a rageful shriek of hate, Khaine, in a blast of psychic power with the potency dwarfing the largest of supernovas, disappeared, leaving behind his metallic throne little more than molten slag as the Bloody-Handed God.


    "Oohh! What a pretty light show! Could have done better on the musical performance, but oh well! Can''t have it all." Cegorach exclaimed, clapping his hand happily, earning a glare from his Forgebound brother.


    "Silence, buffoon! This is no time for your tomfoolery and senseless humor." Vaul snapped, irritation oozing from his every word.


    "Enough!" Asuryan said coolly, then focused on the Crone, "Morai-Heg spoke of what you have seen."


    "The Fallen God has awakened from his deathly slumber-" The first head began, "-the Great Motherworld under his rule moved from the Father of Lies'' pitiful phantom realm-" and the last finished, "-Freedom he seeks and stops the Hour Demise he desires."


    The last part caused an added layer of tension in the room; none were ignorant of the future that awaited them, death and destruction, but to whom they remained uncertain. Lileath had sensed the coming destruction, and through deduction, the hypothetical culprits had been chosen: their children, the Aeldari.


    This piece of news had sent Khaine into a frenzy on Realspace, murdering and destroying without mercy on their subjects as he did after the betrayal where he annihilated the near totality of Hoopa followers, killing a third of every mortal race in his blind vengeance.


    "Does he succeed, sister?" Kurnous questioned inquisitively, his clawed fingers tapping rhythmically on his left muscular arm. There were no readable emotions in his rumbling voice but a sensation of feigning hope.


    "Yes." The youngest head said, "No," the middle-aged one contradicted the former, and the oldest finished with dread, "The darkness blind my sight, and so does the False Architect whose eyes are darkened."


    "We are in the unknown. Excellent, that''s what we needed, then what do we do?" Vaul commented in irritation at their situation. Though there was no particular disrespect aimed at the tricephalic Goddess, he didn''t want to be punished, certainly not by her, and he respected her too much to slight her.


    "We go and help our dear darkest and favorite little brother of ours, of course!" The Great Harlequin exclaimed as if it was the most evident thing in the world. His self-assured nods show off his pride in his idea.


    "Madness!" Vaul violently disagreed, "I knew you were always close, too much, in my opinion! You knew of his treacherous plannhhhg!-"


    "Tata~! Keep your opinion to yourself. Would you do me that little favor, broootheeer?" The clown deity sang, invoking a red squeaky ball in the Forgebound''s mouth whose anger reached new heights, as did the squeaking noise of the gag.


    "Both of you, cease this at once," Asuryan commanded, and with a pout, his most eccentric brother obeyed while the Patron of all Crafts scowled, spitting the ball out with a snarl.


    "It greatly pains me to admit, but Cegorach is correct." Lileath''s voice echoed, painting many contradictory emotions in the chamber, "It is too late to alter what has begun, and we would need¡­ We would need¡­"


    She stopped feeling the eyes of her King fall on her and, with it, an oppressive pressure.


    "Continues, do you wish to say that we lack the strength to fight against the tumors of the Sea of Souls?" He asked, hunching forward, his massive form of pure light casting a shadow on the younger Goddess.


    But it wasn''t Lileath who answered.


    "Yes." Isha intoned with a displeased frown, staring into his flaming eyes unblinkingly with calm defiance, his surprise clear to his audience at the gentle Goddess'' action, "Asuryan, we have waned and are but a pale shadow of our glory. Our mistakes will prove our downfall and our children''s destruction if we do not act."


    "Isolation has not done us good. And as for him¡­ His power is of the most vital nature for us to lighten our dark path. His crimes are secondary to annihilation by those twisted abominations and the death of countless." She declared with a firmness none was used to but her mate Kurnous, though for different reasons that were not here.


    "I commend this reunion to be ended. You can proceed to your domain." Asuryan bellowed, teleporting into the First Layer where his chamber lay. An awkward silence took place; this reaction was abnormal and baffling on multiple levels.


    "Heh, if that isn''t an anticlimactic end." Cegorach chuckled, his head snapped at 360¡ã, and he asked the Crone with a giggle, "Can I, Momo?"


    Already knowing, she nodded from her middle head before her body turned to sand wafted by the wind, her pretense unneeded here and destination to where her Consort went. The damages of his rampage would have to be reversed after all.


    "What is it?" Vaul, in his ever-present impatience, was the first to demand.


    "One simple question to you all: have you ever wondered why our dear wise and all-powerful King isn''t lowering the barrier stopping us from righting the past? I mean, our yelling walking butchery is a good point, but we do have the option to take care of that little inconvenience¡­ It''s not a matter of wanting but of could." The Great Harlequin trailed off.


    "Why has Asuryan not lifted the barrier? Or is it that he can''t?" He finished with a chuckle that resonated in the Thrones Room as he melted into a shower of confetti. All were left to ponder upon his words.

 33. Dark Muse

    "My most loved sister, what emotions does this sculpture stir in your magnificent heart?" An Aeldari male, tall even by his species standard, said with a smile as he gazed at the ''sculpture.''


    A patchwork of flesh, skin, organs, and faces from lifeforms were chosen with extreme care from every parameter: skin color, smoothness of scales, puffiness of feathers, length of hair, shapes, and size of internal organs. Each aspect was chosen to be the building block of a harmonious living musical orchestra, and it played a lively symphony of immense beauty using the clicks of bones, heartbeats, snaps of muscles, moans, wails, and more.


    The sister in question was wearing a complex robe of living tissue with sapience; nerves were embroidered from lower life forms in a pattern representing the magnificent nebulas in lifelike detail. If not for the eyes blinking and swirling around, it would have appeared almost of orthodox materials.


    "Many, brother¡­" She trailed, biting her lips softly but enough to draw blood at the macabre spectacle, "Many, that the words fail me. This is a work beyond the mere grasp of the Gods, and it''s but a fractal, how deep is meaning and complexity in every strand."


    "I share your every feeling, sister. Did you know this masterpiece is the physical manifestation of Flesh Mender Hrythyoc''s mourning?" He said, trailing clawed fingers across his hair, vibrating at the sensation brought by the ever-present electric current within.


    Next to them was another group of Aeldari, but their focus was on a painting representing the loss of a child through various events. Each was more horrific and tragic than the last: diseases, accidents, murders, and more. It was of a mother and father and their child kept in an eternal death parade and loss.


    The family was part of an ape-like species vaguely reassembling orangutans; they were Jokaero, one of the Young Races engineered by the Old Ones. As such, they were highly coveted among collectors and artists, for they possessed the mind and technology to be a threat to Aeldari, and they were good at hiding in addition to a low population.


    And in the recent cycles, their scarcity skyrocketed, and the population here they were known to breed vanished. This wasn''t a lone case for this species either, but it was only a trivia barely worth mentioning, the hunting ground where the natural ones, if it came down to it, new breeding grounds would be made.


    And it was far more than an original fictional representation of this uniquely rare species; those three specimens were real, of flesh, skin, bones, and souls. They were trapped in this artificial dimension to be toyed with for eternity. The ability to die and go insane was robbed from them; however, the pain and anguish, both physical and mental, amplified at each tragedy was not.


    It materialized the woes of the inferior, pitiful mortal, a show of meaningless circus devastation that Aeldari stood above and could but observe with fascination the primitives'' emotions bubbles and marinate. It was not only a piece of art but a perpetual machine of emotions for them to bathe in.


    Swirling a glass of liquefied joy with a hint of despair, one of the three began speaking, her voice smooth and her eyes shining with glee as they shifted from the pocket world to her friends, "Have your ears caught the tale of a legend of six long lost artifacts of ages past?"


    "Truly a fascinating concept, and yes, indeed. It had graced me, and I heard it was no mere legend." Another said as he gazed into the open void of space with a smile. How sumptuous the cosmos was, and it was theirs.


    "There are many rumors. Lores of long gone eras mysteriously resurfacing of an ancient beast that even the mightiest of the Old Gods shivered in terror and had sworn to serve for eternity to whoever frees it." The third one added with a pensive expression; it was most strange indeed, but that was a passing thought.


    There were many strange things within the universe, which was merely one of countless.


    "A treasure." The first one finishing her glass added, "Artifacts impossible to divine spread in our magnificent galaxy."


    They were all interested to varying degrees. It was a change none could foresee, and the Aeldari Empire was soon to see the largest expedition in its history for these keys to godhood. And today''s auction was so populated partly for this reason.


    The main reason now entering the scene and with her presence greater than all voices, whether sound or psychic in nature, vanished, and silence dawned the hall. The sound of her eels on the gilded wraithbone ground resonated across the expansive room, rattling the heart of the audience as, from a podium manifesting downward, she arrived.


    Her presence was immense, immaculate beyond the grasp of the common Aeldari. It was not by her regality, sensuality, grace, beauty, or personal power but by something deeper, something above the superficial of her innate superiority.


    A presence that marked her as a maestro of pleasure and most profane given flesh, a Prophet of the New Age and Fall of Old, she was Lhilitu, the Consort of the Void and one of the legendary Dark Muse.


    "Welcome, welcome¡­" Her soft, melodious voice of countless unworded promises thundered, "Welcome my dear customers and merchandise to the House of Sidhe where all are welcomed, and all is possible for a price¡­ That is."


    The crowd exploded in cheers, and Lhilitu bowed curtly, hiding her smile behind faux shame with her fan. Then, with a finger flick, they quieted down, happily obeying her. Only a fraction could sense her manipulation, and those were smart enough to play along.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Not even the greatest lords or ladies in this part of the Empire would dare to offend one of her positions. Though it wasn''t for immediate fear of repercussions, she couldn''t do it here. This was a place of exchange, be it material or services; here, all had value, from objects to souls and emotions. And it would be unsightly. But outside¡­ That was a different story.


    "Let''s not delay any further. Eternity can only be so long. Oh¡­ Oh? I have a grand announcement from a little blue bird." The Dark Muse mused out loud with a surprised tone and beatific smile that turned into an exquisite giggle, "Do not fret, my little ones. This shall be without charges, for what is required of you is to spread my words. Can I count on you, my dears?"


    Another cheer of agreement was all it took for confirmation. And she savored it thoroughly, playing in graciously, feasting on the emotions with unmasked glee.


    "I''m most confident you have caught the words, a string of misters weaved of truth and lies that are more than they first appear? A hunt to free the chained beast of the Dark Prince, a creature of darkness made manifest sealed upon the heretical use of the holy number and to serve the one who brings the six keys." The Consort of the Void revealed all but the truth¡­ Or so for her; she didn''t tell any falsehood, but who was she to dictate what she was not to?


    She was a speaker of a greater existence beyond even her wildest dream and nightmare. She was a tool to be used in its entirety and thrown away, and how she adored it.


    "Unknown are the places of five. Yes, my dear, one has been located, and I''m afraid to reveal that it is within the coffer of one of those unfeeling automatons unworthy of existence." Her joyous tone turned cold and venomous, and a galactic map manifested above the audience whose collective outrage, if not for her, would have destroyed the star system they were in.


    Within all was grayed out but one point of interest, a location that in a parallel universe would be called the Eastern Fringe or Ultima Segmentum. It was a precise location in that portion of the Milky Way, singling out a handful of star systems.


    "That is where the key has been noticed. You can do as you please with this little piece of information! Oh, and I have another tidbit to give¡­" She trailed off, changing the map to an object, a simple golden ring with a green gemstone.


    However, it didn''t take more than a glance to comprehend that it was no mere jewelry, an image it may be, but its nature transcended such mortal limitations. This was a creation of divine origin only recorded in myths and legends.


    "Observe! This is one of the keys stolen from us, and it was with one of ours¡­ Poor E?lim, to be in the hands of such monsters. Information about the culprits would show you rewards and more." Lhilitu cried out with lifelike grief and sadistic glee mixed together in a paradoxical harmony, rendering it impossible to understand her true emotions.


    Another wave of outrage would have followed without her interrupting it in its infancy. Still, it unshrouded one of the most conflicted and spoken rumors on the disappearance of the scion of one of the most ancient, influential, and noble houses.


    "Now¡­ On the main course." Her words rang powerfully, and the subject changed, finally letting the auction officially begin after two world-shaking revelations.


    ?????


    Observing my most loyal little bat through the eyes of Danxama, I floated to his right, gaining his attention, and I spoke, voice synthetic, neither male nor female.


    "Do you know about the Necrontyr, Majun?" I asked a simple question but one to which no mortals could answer, and evidently, what I got was a negative response.


    "No, I''m deeply sorry, but I lack the knowledge of such species. However, I do recall the ancient Necron. What is that you desire, my Lord Hoopa? Is it related to your divine edict? Is it a mistake to fix?" My Archdeacon started to babble on about, and I chuckled heartily. He could be so silly at times.


    "Yes, indeed, there is a liaison with the Necron. It''s a little-known factoid, but they used to be of flesh, blood, and bones with souls. All of which they have been tricked into giving up, turning all but the strongest willed into mindless robots, though it was to flee from their short disease-suffused lives." I hummed out, and there were shocks in my audience; we weren''t alone after all.


    We were in the command room of the Vale of Ys, one of the most advanced Cruisers of the Dark Coven, or so my mortals called the magocracy-theocracy organization of the Khrave based around me and with me as the de-facto supreme leader without my express word. It''s a positive symbiotic relationship. After all, they weren''t my slaves.


    "Oh, that''s most tragic," Majun said sincerely; how kind of him. And it was an accurate statement. There was little other word that described the Necrontyr more than tragic and that it all could have been averted if the toads stopped marveling at their reflection.


    It still pisses me off to this day. So much power and knowledge are used for nothing. If only that were a unique sin of theirs¡­ Though for the Aeldari, it isn''t their hubris alone; it isn''t less of their fault.


    "Indeed, Archdeacon Majun, it is, and If I were listened to, this madness would have never occurred. But alas, it had and


    present beckons us to act." Said a one-eyed, faceless man of metal wielding a staff as he walked onto this part of the timeline.


    Another wave of shock, this time of the aggressive nature, spread in the room. The Lethe Fields were excellent for what was psychic but severely lacking when it came to time.


    "Stay still, my children," I commanded, and they obeyed, stopping the mass hysteria that was coming. However, I felt their confusion; it was a problem of nothing.


    "Ah, a long time no see. How did life, oh unlife, treat you, Orikan?" I tutted, studying the Necron Overlord with a tilt of Danxama''s head, his single eye gleaming a bright green as he felt me telekinetically ready to freeze his past and future. I was trapping him in the present.


    It wasn''t personal, but a little precaution never hurt when I didn''t invite him and so long had passed since we last talked. I mean, we were coming to meet him, but that''s quite rude for him to barge here. Though my little trick won''t stop him from fleeing if he genuinely desired it, it was evident he came prepared, but if he tried anything, he would suffer.


    "Mediumly, Magician, what is it you require, oh Devil in the Bottle, from me?" The Necron said, profoundly bowing, his green eye never leaving me.


    "For you to satisfy to which you have promised, a favor in exchange for the Necron''s existence, in exchange for a place for them to exist," I said, approaching, the sound of my puppet metallic feet loud in the typically ever noisy room. All eyes were bored on us.


    "You did not provide such." He said boldly, tapping his staff on the Palestone, cracking the ground on the point of impact, "You have destroyed and crippled the C''tan, but so has the Infinite Empire. What is there for us to exist but shambles that were close to their entirety whipped by the thralls of your insensate masters?"


    I chuckled.


    "Indeed, but was it not as I promised?" I pointed out, spreading my arms, "This is not annihilation, and you are slaves no more, but let''s not play any game, Diviner. It doesn''t suit you. Be more mindful of what you wish. I do not lie. I never do."


    The tension was high.


    "That is true." And it poofed away with that sentence, though I knew he wasn''t particularly pleased.


    "What is required of me, Magician?" Orikan asked this time, staring at Danxama''s face. But that would only be what was visible to the naked eye. He was staring deeper, at times itself, and I let him.


    "To be of assistance in our troubled time, of course. But I''m not your master, and neither are you, my servant. I will see you and those of your kind of a similar mind be parts of the journey ahead. Maybe even grant the gift that had been refused and stolen." I proposed handing my bronze-coated hand for him to grasp, and he sealed the deal with his metallic grey. He did so again without hesitation and in the truest of senses.


    It wasn''t as if he had a choice. It was his part of our deal back in the war. It had been one-sided, and it still is, but I was not evil to be evil and didn''t have personal enmity to the Necron. Or him, for that matter.

 34. Diplomatic Interruption

    Elkin, as one of the High Researchers of the Dark Coven, was tasked with many things. Her works on biology, technology, and psychics combined into what she did. Still, until relatively recently, compared to her age, she didn''t have such a position of importance in her society.


    The Khrave had been aimless, lost, unable to find their way in the darkness, their society stagnating as did their culture. Until the Beast, their Lord, came back for them as the ancient prophecies had foretold, it all changed no more where they recluse to the Dark Cradle, no more where they lost, no more where their prayers were unanswered.


    The Dark Coven was forged by the Church of the Beast as such belief and piety were of the highest importance and became vital, but there was no blind zealotry. It was against the Five Pillars, the highest form of heresy, one to be healed.


    It was to slave oneself to one oneself. It was to stop learning, advancing, and becoming one''s own shadows; one of the highest sacrilege thoughts, not a fatality.


    Religion was important, but so were science and magic. Forgoing one or pushing down another was also a sin. It was a delicate balance, a common occurrence in their lives. Balance, balance, and controls between all there was.


    It had been so little time since their Lord came back, and yet so much was done beyond the comprehension of even Archdeacon Majun, goals hidden yet unhidden in ever-unfolding dark paradoxes for the fate of the galaxy and everything within.


    Actions of madness fueled by the highest form of logic and rationality to trespass in the Lord of Changes'' domain. There, Yuggoth was taken, and the master of the place of twisted psychic energy was put in his place below the Lord of Magic, and from there, the Great Harvest began.


    A plan of many goals, the retrieval of the Keys of the Flask, the creation of Golden Gates across the cosmos to move at celerity above that of even the users of the Labyrinthine Dimension. Then, the most recent, the Ark of Life.


    A denomination reflects a set of plans and goals to achieve two primary objectives: the safeguard of life and the spread of the truth to sophonts life forms. It was not a crusade, and the ones desiring to join would, but the ones refusing would be left alone to fend off for themselves.


    In all cases, biological and psychic samples were collected and stored to recreate every species that interacted with if it became necessary, such as the Aeldari or the Hrud, a subterranean species able to quicken time by instinctively producing psychic fields.


    But this was not the task of Elkin. Her works were on a more interpersonal level. She was to weave the tapestries of understanding between species to absorb them under Lord Hoopa''s guiding light and impenetrable aegis against the corrupting whispers and profane influence of the Ruinous Power but also not to make them ignorant of it.


    Though not to be mistaken for them to join the Dark Coven, it was a domain of the Khrave uniquely. It was to shape a structure of interaction between species for trade and assistance. Any that broke the strict and concise rules would see the instigators and all supporters be punished heavily.


    At this very instant, Elkin was standing on nothingness, around her the void of space. All but a mere trick of the eyes, though it was not a transparent wall letting this be a possibility, it would be a critical failure in the Cruiser''s structural integrity. No, it was far more straightforward. It was a personal device projecting life-like psychic illusions in a small bubble around her.


    She was gazing at a rocky planet, one comparable in size to a small gas giant yet with an atmosphere survivable by carbon-based lifeforms. Its main characteristic was an omnipresent lush primeval forest only stopped by a singular ocean on which a magnificent city organically grew.


    It was equal to large moons in size and was stretching deep, wide, and high from the abyss to the stratosphere, where the beginning of a spaceport could be seen. In fact, it appeared to be more of a gargantuan voidcraft than a sedentary settlement.


    That wasn''t the only structure, however. On each cardinal point was a massive iridescent gemstone funneling an incredible amount of psychic energy, likely for defense, offense, and maintenance.


    Beyond this, it was a most peculiar planet, for it was part of the Aeldari Empire, yet not. This was one of the many worlds where dissidents revolted by the rising decadence and madness chose to live in reclusion from the bulk of their kind. An array of psychic shields using those four crystals as foci designed to hide and protect them from the coming armageddon.


    Or so it would if it were not a place of worship of the old ways. It was how it was found: within the confines of this planet existed a cult dedicated to Hoopa, and none could stay hidden from him. It was small and young, but enough to be tracked and collect information to know if going here was a viable plan.


    Hoopa wasn''t the only ''Old Gods'' worshiped here after all. His presence mainly was a grain of sand in a desert compared to Isha the Merciful Mother, Cegorach the Great Harlequin, Kurnous the Lord of the Beasts, and Lileath the Maiden. There was a high chance the cult in his name was founded by followers of the second of the Aeldari Gods listed.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    It was why they were here, on this divine revelation that was, in fact, a ''hunch.'' It was a godly hunch with a lot of backing, but in the end, nothing absolute, though that went unsaid.


    "High Researcher Elkin, we have been located. They demand who we are and what our intention is. Shall we proceed as planned?" A young Khrave asked, and she snapped back to Realspace, her head tilting slightly in curiosity as she smiled charmingly.


    "Yes indeed, let''s proceed." She said, and her face began to morph, the harsh predatory bat-like structure softening from horrific and demonic to what one might call exceptionally cute in the ways a small, defenseless infant animal would.


    The same happened for the surrounding Khraves, a face chosen to resemble a common pet in Aeldari society, the Gyrinx, animals psychically bonding and amplifying their masters. A creature that would have been perfect for the Khrave if not for their tastes.


    Though the faces they wore shared a fraction of the psychic cats'' features, it was a complex visage meticulously crafted to be good but not too good. It was a delicate balance to avoid an uncanny valley feeling to their audience. Not optimal for diplomacy.


    "I''m Autarch Eldrenich. Be advised you are within the controlled space of Altansar. To whom do you hail, foreigners? What is what you seek? Your answer shall dictate how I will proceed onward." A smooth, powerful, and delicate voice resonated, and the holographic image of an Aeldari appeared on the center command board.


    His face was calm, curious, and confused, a confusion that grew as Elkin ordered to send back a stream of her, granting both parties imagery of one another.


    "Well met Autarch Eldrenich. I''m Elkin, a Khrave and a member of High Researcher within the Dark Coven, and as a representative of the Children of Dawn, I have come to build diplomatic bridges. We have come with peace and discussions in mind." She elegantly said in perfect Aeldari, both in physical mimics and accent. After all, it was in the Aeldari language that Khrave had their language based on.


    The former fact didn''t go unnoticed but was uncommented, though it opened many questions with less than pleasant answers to the Aeldari Autarch. The same was true for the aesthetic of their technology and fashion, familiar yet utterly alien and¡­ Out of date by hundreds of thousands of cycles.


    It was very odd, suspicious even. However, the questions and answers would be given later, with consent or force, depending on how the situation evolved. The former was preferable; they were worryingly advanced and detected far too late, in his opinion.


    "Is that so? I have never heard of your kind, nor do our records show signs of your existence. You must be of the Sea of Souls or a hidden realm." Eldrenich announced curtly, an absence of condescending that was somewhat surprising for Elkin as she was used to E?lim''s insipid, egotistical rambling. It was also a different situation.


    Though there was no kindness or joy either, it was a neutral, if curious, tone on the edge of wariness, but there was unmistakable confidence on the brisk of arrogance. Not that it wasn''t unfounded or baseless.


    "A most correct assumption, Autarch Eldrenich. The Khrave do not reside in the limits of Realspace thanks to the magnanimity of our Lord in a time when the Silver Legion ran amok." Elkin nodded, a faint smile growing on her artificial short muzzle.


    "Interesting, most interesting High Researcher Elkin¡­ Please indulge me. Who is this ''Lord'' you speak of?" He asked, his face hardening, the question almost demanding. But she let it slip. He didn''t know any better yet. And it was true that they were glaringly strange.


    "Words would fail to describe such a being, but our Lord is the origin tied to many of your unworded questions. A fraction of your citizens know him. The Horned One bearer of the Golden Rings who guides the lost souls in the darkness and shows the ways to the misguided." She intoned delightfully, the name of her Lord far too great for her to dare say it.


    The Aeldari, on the other side, was perplexed, thinking deeply about what cryptic meaning was behind it. Seemingly concluding, he closed his eyes before communicating telepathically, several micro-movements on his visage showing a short internal conflict.


    "I have been informed that your arrival was awaited. By authorities given to me, I accept the Dark Coven''s proposal of diplomacy with Altansar. I will immediately send you the necessary instructions to dock your vessel, Children of the Dawn. You have my permission and protection as long as you respect the rules of civilized guests." Eldrenich explained minutely, his relaxed stance not masking that they were only here as long as he authorized them. That much was evident by his tone and body language.


    And so the communication became silent as their Cruiser began its atmospheric entry to the marked area following every directive given to its last-minute detail. Yet as they reached the two hundred kilometers mark from the highest wraithbone spire and were going to phase through the shield, everything shook, and alarms blared.


    "What is happening?!" Elkin demanded in unease as she stabilized herself with her psychic power and a beat of her wing.


    The response she recipients made her hiss with displeasure. They were under attack by Aeldari, but not the one on this planet. Their attackers were from the Labyrinthine Dimension, a small fleet in the middle of bombarding the Lethe Field of their Cruiser with, for the moment, only psychic-based attacks.


    It wasn''t hard or complex reasoning. It wasn''t the people of Altansar attacking them; the connection to Autarch Eldrenich had been hijacked, replaced by one of a distinct nature, and the holographic screens now showed another Aeldari.


    His skin was deathly pale, only broken by a golden, highly embellished monocular occluder and the raven black hair on his head. His body was covered in a strange armor set, showing far too much to be of any use, while vials, blades, and firearms of all kinds dangled from his skin.


    Thick and colorful fumes bubbled the air, hiding the less evident traits of his figure and the undulating movements behind which the distant echoes of moans and wails could be vaguely heard.


    "What matter of lowly Mon''Keigh are you? To dare enter our space and violate the air with your hideous contraption and baleful presence!" The sing-song voice rang in fake outrage from the paler and exceptionally less friendly Aeldari on the screen.


    "The irony would be lost on you perverse creature." The High Researcher snarked, and in an act lacking any hesitation, she cut off the canal, cutting the call to psychotic uppity knife-eared degenerate''s face. Immediately after, without instructions, others began to work on reconnecting to Altansar.


    "How unpleasant. But not unpredicted, our Lord''s wisdom knows no bounds." She hissed, her large ears twitching in frustration while her lower arms tightened.


    "Unpleasant indeed." High Helmer Ragorth, a muscular male Khrave, heartedly agreed with her words while hundreds of telepathic messages were exchanged among the crewmembers, all enacting the protocol.


    Being attacked was, from the beginning, a known variable, barring any hypothetical and likely valid scenarios of the Architect of Fate and his brethren to have their claws insidiously plunged into the Aeldari Empire¡­ The wider expenses of the Aeldari were looking for the Khrave, hunting them even.


    The Archdjinni of the Rings clouded the present and future for the Khrave, but it wasn''t foolproof, and Aeldari seers'' could sense the most impactful action and their ripples¡ªripples that could be traced to their point of origin.


    It wasn''t very successful still. The Aeldari didn''t know what they were looking for and attacked anything and everything far more viciously than before, this possessing a reason as flimsy as it is to do so.


    Communicating with the calmer side of Aeldari society was, as such, putting a red target on their backs for immediate attack. It was a risk, but one worth taking.


    "No success connecting back yet?" Ragorth inquired, and the negative response prompted him to look at Elkin. A short telepathic conversation led to a conclusion.


    "Then let us not be passive. For our Lord, for the Beast of the Dawn, let us, his children, show what decadence brings to ones who forgo themselves to madness and hubris!" She declared, and the clicks of teeth and hisses demonstrated all agreed with her statement.

 35. Lord of Poison

    Shaimesh sighed in exasperation; the plans for today had reached a screeching halt, poisons to be tested on various conditions, and species shattered to nothingness.


    Quite the frustrating conundrum, more so when one of his new baby toys reached a level he could call his Magnum Opus. Though ultimately, it didn''t matter; he had received great, no, magnificent news.


    A trail had been detected. Not any trail, one searched for by billions upon billions of his fellow Aeldari, the little group of anomalies skidding from the Seas of Souls to Realspace and disappearing through ever-expanding means have been pinpointed to one precise location in space-time.


    Shaimesh was the first to be informed, as his circle of informants had noticed this peculiarity first, and he used his considerable expertise to make sure he was here before all others. He was most curious about who those individuals were to slip through the vicious grasp of the combined effort of a significant bulk of the Empire.


    The preparation for an all-out assault on one of the soulless automaton bases of operations aside, a time he couldn''t but eagerly anticipate. Oh, so many will meet their true death and much more; betrayal, enmity, love, and friendship will bloom, but they will not be for now. The mechanisms and pocket dimensions were hiding it where¡­ Thoroughly extensive, significantly so, and certain gimmicks at hand, though ultimately nothing insurmountable.


    But back to the anomalies.


    To say they were a source of worry would be an egregiously and ridiculously false claim exclusively worthy of mockery. This was a game like many in the countless cycles. No matter if the prey was, in reality, one of the players or not, what mattered was the spectacle and the unfolding of the dark mysteries. This one was more¡­ Public and that made it all the better, even if the competition was pitiful.


    Neither lords nor ladies could have rivaled him. He was Shaimesh, the Master Assassin, the Lord of Poison, and one of the so-called Dark Muse, or so was the title given to a circle of ascended individuals found within.


    "What a grotesquely strange vessel¡­ What manner of architects would have vetoed such an unpleasant design? A bastardized copy of our immaculate greatness." He scoffed scornfully, observing the bizarre Cruiser approaching the insignificant dust ball of his fear-mongering votary and farcical lower-class cousins. It was Aeldari-like, if reminiscent of old trends, smooth and agile in design with sails, but after this, nothing was alike.


    It was heavily organic in appearance, far too large to have any grace or beauty in its limited motion, and the ever-shifting color schemes were harsh on his artistic gaze. If the last was a defect or, by design, remained unknown, contrary to the Dark Muse of Toxin, Venom and Poison''s wish to dismantle such an unsightly construct.


    If an esteemed Aeldari built it, punishment would be heavy for such a sickening Cruiser. And if it were inferior lifeforms, then the cards were up, and everything could and would go.


    And so his desires were to become a reality, with all but a mental command, his entire personal fleet phased from the Webways to Realspace, and with it, the whole might of his fleet befell the slippery vessel.


    As it did, he intercepted the connection between the Cruiser and the planet''s central command room and was met with a peculiar sight.


    "What manner of lowly Mon''Keigh are you? To dare enter our space and violate the air with your hideous contraption and baleful presence!" He hollered, gracing the insect with his presence, yet to his shock, the liaison was cut off, and an infuriating message was left.


    However, he was not affected negatively by the petty animal insult; quite the contrary, it was fascinating. With this mere glimpse, he saw that those furry multi-limbed bipedal life forms were of actual worth, the aesthetic and apparent technology unpleasant to see but adequately impressive. It opened a universe of possibilities.


    -Lord Shaimesh, we cannot seem to penetrate these grotesque psychic Mon''Keigh''s rather unique defense system with our current philosophy of assault.- A deep masculine but suave voice full of surprise and displeasure echoed in his mind, and he frowned, smirkingly.


    -Interesting. Then change it. You are not so inept to not see that psychic energy is absorbed and reused to counteract my will. An insult that cannot go unanswered.- The Dark Muse enunciated mentally to everyone, a shiver of terror and excitement his only answer, though only for the Aeldari.


    The wraithbone constructs with programming based on fulfilling every desire of their masters didn''t have any emotion or a shred of sapience and, as such, worked on this new information. They were puppets operating on a subconscious level and a highly complete set of parameters. Creating sapient slaves with power was the height of madness and stupidity. Any species doing so deserved the coming annihilation.


    The barrage changed, canons of all kinds and purposes shooting an ever more diverse array of projectiles of psychic energy, kinetic nature, and energy based paradoxically chaotically and harmoniously homogenized with varying geometry switching to a more approximate tactic.


    The kaleidoscopic shield of the anomalous Cruiser rippled as the added supply of psychic energy was taken away in entirety from the assault, beam visible and invisible, slow or fast, pummeled the voidship with focused destruction. Gravity, magnetism, radiation, anti-matter, miniaturized supernovae, and more in diversity rained.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The results were immediate, the impressive defense system easily warding off their weaponry mere seconds ago, now cracking in hundreds of points with holes forming. Yet it never hit the vessel still. The projectiles all seemingly disappeared as if warped away to another realm. But yet again, it wasn''t foolproof, and a fraction of the barrage partially slipped through.


    "Fascinating..." Shaimesh said, the sight of this new, never-seen shielding technology proving worthy of a present to test its efficiency from the data collected, but first¡­ Someone wanted to be answered, and he obliged. Who was he not to bless the local populace lord with his presence?


    "What is the meaning of this attack, Shaimesh? You have no authority within this area of space. I strongly advise you and your ilk to leave at once or-" The voice of the Autarch of Altansar boomed with barely restrained rage, but alas, his asinine rant was cut short.


    "Or what? Bold, so very bold¡­ Is that a threat that I hear? Or maybe an invitation, who knows? A strongly worded complaint to come, mayhaps.


    Nevertheless, I must ask, why such a reaction? Those lesser beings are but that¡­ Lesser, truly can you enlighten me to the babble of your inner lack of ratiocination." The Lord of Poison chortled as he marveled at the hole Eldrenich was digging in.


    Then there was a blinding flash of light followed by his vision spinning and his body appearing in his line of sight, his neck lacking a head, with behind a highly tall figure draped in a dark armor showing no flesh but clear of what species the wearer was. Also, behind in the air was an arcane rune shaped in the form of a five-pointed star in a circle¡ªthe heretical desecrated holy symbol of the Dark Prince.


    "Oh¡­" He intoned with a frozen, lopsided smile as his body fell to the ground like a puppet while his head bounced on the gilded floor of the command room. Everyone around was unable to process what had unfolded.


    But for the pleasingly chittering would-be assassin, Shaimesh had not died from such a mediocre blow; his everything had turned into toxic fumes faster than the winged creature could comprehend, let alone react.


    He reformed unscathed right before his would-be killer, his smile larger than before as he studied the stunned creature further or its armor. Then he was bisected by another teleporting behind from a second flash of light, yet the result was quite the same.


    "Brutish, fitting, and futile." He declared, a finger of his twitching resulting in the first to be engulfed by sickly purple smoke. The second had never ceased its murder attempt through a rapidly increasing array of weapons and tactics, psychic or otherwise, from explosions, shapeshifting of limbs, rapid teleportation, hidden weapons, and more.


    Many of which he found surprised at himself to have piqued his interest and, if he were not who he was, would have proven¡­ Fatal. While lacking in grace, those two were not unblooded and weak; in fact, they were almost commendable.


    A fact that was not lost on the other Aeldari: his Cruiser was not the only target of such a unique counterattack in space warfare¡ªusing the psychic connection to the control rooms to warp in and attack like rabid mindless animals fueled by bloodlust and maddening hunger.


    It was a deadly assault, though admittedly, the few that permanently perished didn''t deserve to be at such a prestigious station. It pruned the weak and unneeded from the others still, even with the attacker far inferior number and nature by virtue of their species, it was a shockingly enough stalemate. And there was no death from the invader, not for a lack of injuries, but teleportation back to their vessel.


    "Do Mon''Keigh of your kind not exhaust themselves by repeating the same patterns again and again and again with the same non-existent result?" Shaimesh boredly asked, dodging a chitinous blade that would have shredded his brain apart and another aimed to tear his heart out.


    There was no answer, however, beyond a hiss and an increase in the rhythm of the ''battle'' as he began to play with his captured prey, peeling off armor, fur, and skin like one would for certain fruits. All the while, a pentacle came and went behind the first interloper, trying and failing to bring it back to where it came from.


    "I have reached a conclusive accord with those so-called ''lesser beings''. And I grow tired of your madness. I say enough of this sickening charade." Eldrenich''s voice echoed, cutting through the chaos and garnering the Dark Muse''s twisted attention, "Be gone and never come back, slave."


    And so the moment after thousands of bright blooming golden flowers on Altansar, an ever more numerous rain of golden beams of pure destructive psychic energy reached the Dark Muse''s meager fleet, birthing confusion and disarray within.


    "How dare you!" The Lord of Poison boomed with a mix of genuine rage and befuddlement. Simultaneously, the lapse in his focus gave a chance for both intruders to escape, but not freely. Blood and limbs were left behind, and in exchange, presents of his making were given.


    At the same time, all others across his dozen voidships, the bat-like assassins, disappeared, and their grotesque vessel entered the confines of the planetary shield. The Dark Muse''s rage abated to frustrated comprehension of the sheer foolishness that happened and the insult toward him.


    Yet it wasn''t finished as what he understood was validated.


    "By decree as elected Autarch of this domain and the subsequent full accords of the leading councils, I Eldrenich Raverh officially declare Altansar''s former allegiance void and its independence from the fallen Aeldari Empire and its frenzied path to damnation true." Eldrenich hollered with cold certainty, his words reaching every ship at once just as the news reached his subjects.


    "So be it. I will not stop you." Shaimesh sneered, cutting off the connection, his eyes gleaming with barely contained psychic power trailing over the damage done all around, and with a snap of his finger, automatons came to clean up while time was locally reversed.


    -Altansar has betrayed the Empire and fallen to madness. Let us depart, but before this, may Isha''s Lament bless them; let her mercy grace their lives with deaths and despair.- He telepathically proclaimed, and they began their retreat into the Webways, yet before this bellow, every ship a cannon cake into existence, their appearance akin to a lotus, one of the Merciful Mother divine icons.


    Yet here it was not with worship or respect in mind. It was as an ironic, despicable derision of the All-Loving Goddess for those elegant weapons fired focused beams of a more horrifying plague. No, it was more, a memetic self-replicating poison with the only purpose of spreading and devouring the mind and soul.


    But it was not rapid. It was insidious. For now, the psionic toxin would lay in wait on the shield, meticulously digging within and awaiting any weakness to infect all it touched with its blight. And Shaimesh would bide his time amidst the apparent defeat and taint on his reputation. This was far from a failed expedition.


    Down on the large golden and silvery bridge of Altansar, where greenery was omnipresent, the Cruiser of the anomalies, or Khrave, docked itself, and from it, an assortment of said species walked out.


    High Researcher Elkin was the first to walk out, hesitation absent from her body language while her eyes studied everything until they landed on the form of Autarch Eldrenich. Without complex ceremony, she swiftly moved to him, her size diminished by her will as she bowed respectfully.


    "The Dark Coven will not forget the assistance of Altansar. The risk you have taken today will prove their worth in due time." She stated matter of factly, but satisfaction and relief were evident. Though dying was never fear, entering the Warp was a simple task, if rather destructive to its surroundings when done in haste.


    "It should and would not, indeed!" A colorful, feminine figure appearing in a rain of colorful sparks exclaimed, the half crying half, laughing mask over her visage turned with the latter at an unhealthy angle as she studied the Khrave before exploding into laughter. However, it appeared to not be one strictly of her own.


    "And so the children finally meet." She added before taking place behind the Autarch. His expression, for his part, was strained and stricken with conflict but rapidly coming up to terms, the clown at his not bothering him in the slightest.


    "We have much to discuss upon the terms, High Researcher Elkin," Eldrenich said softly, and the Khrave nodded to the Aeldari in agreement. There was much to do.

 36. Family Reunion

    My little bats were hard at work in both following my directives and carving their places in the cosmos. I was proud of them; my first mistake turned into a true blessing.


    Their society had grown and matured, and with the growing ties with other sophonts, it didn''t cease, notably the Young ''not so young now'' Races with the Ark of Life integration into reality. No matter what the future reserve, death on a galactic scale would happen; saving the ones that wanted to before it was too late was a must, just as recruiting them in the war effort.


    All were brought into the Dark Cradle of their own volition, from the engineering orangutans, the Jokaero, to the ever-adapting Kroot that were the degenerated descendants of the Rashan. There were less advanced species, too, some barely beginning to explore their star system like the Laer, a very diverse race with multiple forms they could artificially shed for dramatically different environments and purposes while always keeping a somewhat serpentine base.


    The latter became one of my most devout worshipers, and without forcing it upon them, I didn''t do that after all. And doing so was heavily reprehensible. Liberty of choice was most important, as were the consequences; freedom needed regulation, after all. Friendship was magic, but only to a certain extent.


    Though I must admit the Laer take on my worship was original since they naturally didn''t have psykers, so no magecraft. For them, it was the seeking of structured progress to a hypothetical ideal of perfection that, in their mind, I embodied.


    Silly mortals.


    Nevertheless, within my domains, Magic, Travel, and Darkness were to be taken literally and philosophically; there wasn''t only one correct interpretation. None were, and all were. They shaped me as a God, and it was why I needed to manipulate things a bit to avoid unpleasant results.


    Notably, for the Orks, using them as a source of psychic energy was still an ongoing project. My impact on the Krork still resonates in their culture to this day, the first and kick spell of their psykers, the ''Weirdboyz,'' but otherwise, it was merely confused references with no head, tail, or body.


    Frankly, it was an excellent idea on paper. The Ork gestalt field was immensely potent, growing according to their number. Still, the greenskins'' psychic energy wasn''t from the Warp and interacted with more orthodox psychic energy in exciting ways.


    It was how they resisted the three tumors'' corruption well and why their two Gods were kept in their little pocket realm, like oil in water.


    Speaking of Gork and Mork, I didn''t yet contact them and wasn''t sure if it would prove worthwhile. From the information I collected, they were acceptably strong, but with the never-ending culling of the Orks by the Aeldari Empire, they were severely limited.


    And their philosophy of life was unique, to say the least. They embodied their makers'' way of thinking, but compared to the mortals, change was antithetical to them. Fighting was what they were, friends or foes; it didn''t matter; only strength and a good fight did.


    I was truly conflicted, but since they never left their little bubble and I didn''t have the personal power to incite them to fight the incoming beldam, I left them punching one another for the foreseeable future.


    And if that pisses them off that I divert part of their energy, then so be it. It''s their problem; unlike the Cancerous Gods, they weren''t entranced into the concept of reality to a terrifying level where they embodied parts of it themselves like the C''tan.


    It meant that Yuggoth had enough fuel to permanently cripple them at worst and, at best, rid them of their existence. And also that greatly damaging them wouldn''t irrevocably wound both the psychic and physical realm, again like the Necrontyr''s  Slavers


    As to why it was only good in theory for using the Orks, they weren''t designed for that like the Aeldari or had an innate potential like most mortals for that, and while the psychic energy they produced was potent if rightly calibrated, it had a frequency quite like not any others. I couldn''t just recklessly take it in and hope not to be ''Orkyfied'' if I were to put it into a simple word, but it was just a temporary barrier.


    Anyway¡­


    Any of those growing diplomatic bridges between this broken and extended family paled compared to its new members, Altansar, and its Aeldari population pseudo-alliance with the Dark Coven. Besides the potential bonus, if Orikan succeeded even a little in the task, I gave him.


    The emphasis on ''pseudo'' both species were as arrogant as their Gods, me included, to my honor. One thought themselves perfect, and the other the chosen one. Both were only in the recesses of their minds, but it was blatantly clear what they thought of themselves, and it was hilarious for me at the sheer wrongness of said self-centered view.


    Though the fact ones were hyper-emotional psykers and the second emphatic vampires played a role too.


    Putting this aside.


    In this entire affair, the most flabbergasting aspect was the local Autarch''s blatant declaration of war¡ªa reckless and insane act yet ingenious to the highest degree.


    It was an act of extreme arrogance, but that was only on a surface level; with that little stunt of his, he made my bats part of the civil war he began by association, their wanted status reaching new heights. And this war was certainly aimed to force the others Maiden World and Craftworld across the Milky Way and Labyrinthine Dimension to take their metaphorical heads out of their metaphorical asses too.


    Because hiding and looking away from the incoming apocalypse was in no way helpful to diminish its consequences, and that was all they were doing until now.


    They were all allies; after all, though smart it was, it would have great consequences on the diplomatic front. No one likes to have their hand forced. But then again, if the mortal wanted to continue their meaningless pissing contest, more were here to replace them.


    A shared polytheistic religion didn''t mean an absence of internal conflict, sadly. But the same logic is applied as before. Normally, I would be more lenient, but it wasn''t a time of normalcy, and they weren''t ignorant of it.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The pesky psychic plague from the insane twat called Shaimesh had shown that it was a sin in and out of itself. It had delayed response and led to several hundreds of thousands of dead, a third of the Khrave not having suffered from other types of soul-wrenching poison I sent counted within.


    Many of which permanently so, the healing properties of Dylath-Leen on Yuggoth were grandiose, but soul destruction at a certain level just couldn''t be healed from. At least not in any manner that the end of the individuals would be similar to the start; fiddling with time was the only alternative, but it worked more on the material.


    It was a weapon I wouldn''t have batted an eye to see being used in the war back then; well, it had critical flaws in that it was psychic, and as such, Palestone weakened it immensely and could be subsequently healed. It was why this psychic plague was stopped before it reached a catastrophic level, but the cruelty behind it equaled that of the Star Gods or more emotional Necron Overlords.


    And it wasn''t eradicated in its totality. Every now and then, an outbreak would begin.


    The one contaminated and purified could become sick again if the concept itself remained in their mind. It was a magnificent creation that would exist forever until the emitter was shut down. It was why it couldn''t just be waved off and why the equivalent of partial soul lobotomy was the best cure.


    It was worrying¡­


    And with that, I came to learn of the Dark Muses. They were mysterious and foolish parasites lacking any understanding of what they were doing or for whom they were working but very much leading figures of the Aeldari Empire.


    Figures of which I sorely lacked in information, even with Altansar''s full cooperation in sharing their database. And what I got turned a grim picture into an even grimmer one.


    They were unknown in number, but three stood out, each holding dominion on one aspect of the depraved Empire''s ways of existence.


    First was Shaimesh under the lofty name of the Lord of Poison and all that came after beyond I didn''t know much aside from that he had killed his brother, and that had led to the founding of a Craftworld called Saim-Hann in the said brother''s name honor.


    Lhilitu came after; she was the Consort of the Void, another lofty title and not the last. To put it mildly, she was quite literally described as manipulative beyond sanity, an attention whore, and a whore period. It wasn''t even put into flowery language, showing a total absence of respect and a high level of spite.


    And third was Vileth, the Cardinal Gospel, first of the Dark Muse and, de facto Emperor of the Aeldari with how far his claws reached. He was one of the oldest Aeldari, with the wildest rumor alluding to him being of the War in Heaven. In addition to that, he was likely one of the most powerful psykers alive of the Aeldari and mortal as a whole until my pet project on Earth bore fruit.


    I knew of him, his presence; that is when I began to be bolder in observing the Warp. I sensed him. It just put a name on his potent soul. There was the fact that he felt vaguely familiar, too. But that was distant, and it most probably was him being an offshoot of my old followers before their rather¡­ violent demise at my brother''s burning blade.


    The possibility that he had been one of mine was not forgotten, however.


    Those Dark Muses were to be put down and, if sighted under adequate conditions, to be hunted with extreme prejudice. It would have been much simpler if I could fire the Blackstone Fortresses at them, but alas, doing so would tear open the barriers between the Warp, Labyrinthine Dimension, and Realspace with countless more consequences. Passing Yuggoth into Realspace was also a nay for similar reasons.


    I could shut down the shield matrices to pass the Veil, but that was setting the defenses back up the big problem. As such, the ancient planet was unconventionally trapped in the Warp.


    ''It''s a fucking pain¡­'' I thought, massaging my heads, both my real body and my Avatar Danxama, on my way to the long overdue family meeting by proxy.


    I was nervous. An alien sensation to my being I didn''t feel since the bitch ripped me apart with my humanity. But it didn''t divert me from my goal; it wasn''t time for family drama.


    And so, floating in this body of bronze-like living metal, I waved a hand, the door in front of me vanishing in a show of iridescent light, giving me a visual of the two standing individuals I had sensed behind in a room of lightless and featureless grey.


    The first was a child of gender unknown dressed in a puffy, colorful robe of complex, seemingly random pattern with methodical madness, a theater mask divided in joy, anger, and sadness over the face. At the same time, a hood covered the rest, cloaking the tiny body in its entirety.


    The second was a blond female Aeldari dressed in an uncomplex pure white dress with the only ornament being an embroidery of pure gold representing the All Seeing Eyes, the divine symbol of my second eldest sister. Her face was behind a veil, and her eyes were closed while sparkling tears trailed down, dissipating in the air before sullying the robe.


    "Quite underwhelming for the reunion of the eon, I know, dear brother, and I''m greatly ashamed, but the others lack suitable vessels! Anyhow! How did Death treat you, Hoopa? I hope you didn''t traumatize him too much since your departure in a spectacular firework?" The child possessed by Cegorach over-dramatically exclaimed.


    "Hmm, deathly boring. It''s nothing and some more, a failing grade on all aspects, I do not recommend." I said with mirth in my voice, and the clown didn''t seem to have changed if the giggle was any indication.


    "And you? I hope my surprise absence wasn''t the source of great dismay." I asked back, floating on my back, and I was physically here; my tail would have been waving around.


    "I would lie to you and myself if I answered negatively, but I made do. Oh! There is an infinite library to recount! You have missed much-" He wasn''t able to finish as the woman on the side cleared her throat loudly.


    "I see your merriment, but I fear it is not the time for pleasantries and family banter, brothers." The way it was spoken was stern, far sterner than what I was used to with Isha; her tone was grave even.


    "My apologies." Cegorach said, shaking his head, "As per Isha''s words, time is critical, but that is evidence to you as well, isn''t it?"


    "Indeed, the Fall is coming at great pace toward us; hedonism and extremes have grown in excess, and annihilation is brewing." I let out darkly, my displeasure and horror unhidden to them. Slaanesh birth was an event of extreme concern, even for me. It wouldn''t put a direct risk on my life, but that changed none of my thoughts on the matter.


    "Though before anything, I must ask." I began, genuine anger rising, causing both to tense up, "Where is Asuryan? What is he doing? Why did he let degeneracy in the Aeldari Empire fester? Didn''t he know what it would lead to?"


    I knew the answer before Isha said it; the distress was all too clear.


    "I¡­ I''m not¡­ We trusted him, we trusted his judgments, we trusted his wisdom. It has never failed us. Morai-Heg had warned of the Hour of Demise, the ''Fall'' you speak of. We were worried, but we believed in his words that our might would suffice. We held faith in our ability to halt it, to guide our children in time of need. We were wrong. We waited and waited for our King to act, to lift the barrier erected to protect the Aeldari of Khaine''s fearful wrath, for us to shine enlightenment on them, yet he didn''t¡­"


    Arrogance was then, but that was only a part of the bigger picture. It was how it happened but not why it was let on today.


    "Then comes the funny part of the joke: we have weakened to the point that now we can''t lift the barrier keeping us in that section of the Labyrinthine Dimension anymore. Ah, and the throne, which was the key, doesn''t work anymore, too. Ran out of fuel. We played ourselves like fools. Well, they did. I always was off the mind to put our genocidal, warmongering older brother in the naughty corner for a few million cycles, but the blazing poultry and Momo didn''t like my idea. It is what it is." The Great Harlequin butted in with schadenfreude at the Pantheon situation, confirming one of my fears.


    Fuck. It was terrible and one of the worst-case scenarios possible. The barrier wasn''t just a projection of energy; it was tied to the Labyrinthine Dimension and the Celestian Enclave. The Zenith Dominion, as Cegorach said, was key, but it can''t function without my dark energy, and it was designed for only one user, the sharing of psychic energy interfering with plenty of necessary processes.


    It should have never been a problem; I didn''t even keep the ''weakness'' of it secret from them...


    "And you request for my assistance to free you." I pondered aloud before snickering, "Tearing the barrier is within the realm of possibility, but you certainly understand it''s a last resort."


    "We do, and that is an¡­ acceptable scenario if extreme measures are required. I see that your strength has also been sapped, but I fail to understand. Could you not teleport us out?" And there comes the important question from Isha. Hope was on the face she wore.


    How naive and innocent of the Merciful Mother. Let''s be bluntly true and destroy any false ideas before they develop further.


    "I would with pleasure, Isha, if I could. Murdering Mother came with a heavy punishment in the form of imprisonment in the womb from which I was born." I revealed there was a microsecond of silence as both processed what I said.


    "What¡­?"


    "So that''s why the bottle is called like this, and you use this puppet¡­"


    To which the reaction was who was easy to determine.


    "Let''s proceed. There is much to discuss and plans," I said, snapping both back to me.

 37. Human Drama

    I breathed out the crisp, clean air of the highest mountain of Yuggoth, where the atmosphere was thinned out to near-nothingness. It was so cold that frost formed all over my purplish-grey skin, notably on my hair, horns, and pointed ears.


    Well, the ''my'' needed to be put into perspective. It wasn''t my body. This might be a ''living'' body of the highest quality wraithbone and specifically grown organic component and coagulated psychic energy held together by two of the Keys of the Flask as foci for my essence. But it wasn''t my body, strictly speaking, even if there were parts of it. I had some left in my Vault since they made excellent materials for almost everything during the war.


    It was my second Avatar; the first wasn''t destroyed or anything, but it was currently being updated with the spurt in bonesingers and other Aeldari oriented to the fields of crafts coming in.


    "It wasn''t the only one being done; Lileath, Kurnous, Isha, and Cegorach were being shaped to their image, but they needed a fragment of their essence, of what they were and represented to be completed."


    It wasn''t the only one being done, as Lileath, Kurnous, Isha, and Cegorach were having Avatars shaped to their image, but they needed a fragment of their essence, of what they were and represented, to be complete


    Yes, Lileath and Kurnous, those two, while absent from our little family meetings due to a lack of talented and compatible enough worshipers, still were on the same page as Isha and Cegorach and fully committed to not denying that they were going to be murderfucked out of existence if they didn''t act.


    Anyways.


    In my case, it was my rings; for them, it won''t be so simple. The worship toward them would massively help, but it needed something more¡­ tangible, like a part of them. It was a big hurdle, considering they were trapped. But there were solutions left from the war, ancient blessed artifacts, some older than me, with enough power to create an Avatar by recycling them.


    At this instant, we didn''t have any significant potency besides trinkets and little family heirlooms, most of which were only parts or re-used artifacts and, as such, not the best they could be.


    The good ones were either in the Celestian Enclave, deep in the vault of the Crone Worlds at the heart of the Aeldari Empire, or deep into the personal collection of a particular Necron Overlord, the one most hated enemy of Orikan. An easy thing to know for all is that parts of their power were in those artifacts, and for us, you can''t lose awareness of a part of yourself.


    There should be far, far more of them. Not even the last battle in the Celestian Enclave destroyed them all with the ludicrous amount we pumped out. Even of mine, I was liberal in my gifts, but alas, Khaine passed by and destroyed my things, and the rest was on the Aeldari and the hatred born from the first and second partially failed genocides.


    We weren''t liked, viscerally hated even, and that was putting it lightly. The festering decadence aside, it wasn''t as if the chism didn''t have valid reasons to exist. But it did, and now we had to deal with the headaches that were the consequences of it.


    I predicted Khaine''s reaction to my ''betrayal'' to be strong, and I failed my estimation that it would have been this strong. It wasn''t the time for regret, however.


    "At least he is kept in seclusion¡­ for now. I fear he wouldn''t hesitate to murder one of them. And there is Asuryan''s behavior." I sighed mentally, willing one of the golden rings around my horns as I fiddled with my dainty fingers, a far cry from my powerful talons. The fact my current body was humanoid didn''t help; at least my tail was still here if I willed it.


    But to Asuryan¡­ He wasn''t in a good state of mind. That was how Isha put it, but Cegorach was less subtle sugarcoating. It was despair, denial, and depression mixed with arrogance on a level mortals couldn''t comprehend. With Vaul in a state of mind that wasn''t mainly any better and finally Khaine in a rut of rage above that of its secondary personification in the Warp¡­


    It was bad.


    Our family, the Pantheon, wasn''t in a good position besides the incoming disaster. It was going to explode, to split apart before that, and in a way that would be violent.


    And at this moment, it only depended on what Morai-Heg wanted, and as manipulative, cold, and calculating as she might be, I feared emotion would win, and she wasn''t going to be on our side with her Consort. Or it might be the right choice with her immense farsight. You can never tell.


    How much I hated to be in the dark on this matter, the irony not lost on this blessing and curse inherent to me.


    "What a hurdle." I sighed. The incoming future would be exciting, but I wouldn''t stand by. Throwing the ring I had been playing with in front of me, it exploded in size, and a nebulous portal materialized.


    Jumping through it without hesitation, I reappeared on a plain of flat grey and white with a dark sky only adorned by a miniature ball of plasma in the far distance and a nostalgic blue planet.


    Those were the Sun and Earth, and I was on the Moon in none other than the Solar System. With that Avatar, I could teleport again. The freedom was euphoric, but it was a bastardized version at best. The Solar System and the surrounding perimeter in one light year were entirely usable for me to move freely.


    It wasn''t for any arbitrary reason; it was thanks to the Golden Gate built on Venus with the subsequent colony to monitor the Solar System and the defense mechanism I put into existence during the war to avoid it being mere collateral damage like thousands of others. They were such fragile little things, and one shift would create a cataclysmic chain reaction.


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    Here, it also warded the place of the Aeldari Empire by staying hidden and the corruption of the Warp by filtering all that was unwanted, creating an artificial Sea of Souls with the Labyrinthine Dimension as a buffer.


    It also blocked quite a few other things, making it so that Humanity would have believed itself alone in the great void of space until I deemed them ready to explore the stars beyond the few star systems surrounding them, and the Khrave would have been their first alien encounter.


    Some easter eggs were hidden in the stars with a sprinkling of a few skewered information that would have messed with their understanding of Realspace, such as how old it is.


    Of course, this plan was utterly jeopardized, but some point remained, notably the creation of a Guardian, a project that had yet to bear fruit but soon will. And it would be more than a Guardian; I needed someone I could trust for my great escape. It wouldn''t be a creature enslaved to my will, but a deal shall be respected.


    Snapping my finger, the Avatar''s body glowed and was replaced by the figure of an athletic young adult human male loosely dressed in a pair of puffy pants with a very light brown skin complexion. Kicking a physically enhanced peddle, the ground split in half for five kilometers, and the hill at the end exploded in a rocky shower of dust and pebbles.


    "The illusion spell holds adequately enough," I said, my voice muted in the ultra-thin atmosphere. Then I snapped my finger, and, with a single word, space shattered like glass, and I found myself atop a flat roof of high-quality calcite stone enchanted to clean and repair itself.


    Below me was a vast city stretching as far as the mortal eyes could see. It was made of rounded roofs of many colors and patterns with large walking areas and gardens where hundreds of thousands of humans mingled, unaware of the greater world.


    In the center of it all was a massive ziggurat with murals of many-limbed horned creatures holding golden rings while golden symbols adorned the whole. Floating in at equal distances were massive monoliths connected by threads of light, creating an embroidery-like five-pointed star across the megalopolis.


    But the most eye-catching feature came from the cusp of its high, not in the form of the blooming crystalline flower but in a gigantic scintillating beam of energy shot into the firmament where it began its metamorphosis into an immaculate bubble-shaped shield encapsulating the entire city and subsequent peninsula.


    This was the Timir Stambhah, the Pillar of Shambhala, otherwise known as the Mystical Capital of Enlightenment, Magic, Beauty, and much more grandeur title, or more simply as the City of Ever-Dusk for the magical barrier created such a peculiar atmosphere only broken at the beginning and end of the day and night cycle.


    And on this eventful day, it will all collapse, not by my ''divine wrath'' or an attack from an overwhelming. No, it would be something¡­ something so mortal and pointless as the inheritance of a position of power between sons and daughters.


    And I will not stop it beyond the massacre of civilians. Of course, I was not cruel to innocent bystanders, particularly when those were my followers, psyker or not. Pointlessly letting them die and suffer was precisely that: pointless.


    This was a family feud between Inanna, the first human to have been graced by me, and her progeny. Quite the saddening turn of events after only seven centuries of existence, so young and na?ve, agelessness alas didn''t signify perpetuity of existence or wisdom. After all, she had sold her soul to me out of her own will even after the terms and conditions explained to their last-minute details.


    But as much as what was unfolding was a grave tragedy, it wasn''t objectively negative regarding consequences to me. I care little for structure as long as the self-replenishing engine keeps going and the promise of souls in exchange for the sweet taste of psychic power is respected. Binding entities together for them to meet was one of my specialties, the accord at the beginning most important.


    The souls in the point above were only mortals having signed the deal and no one else. I didn''t care about random souls; they would only do the opposite of helping.


    I wished to create legends that would echo across Humanity in its entirety. It was part of a spell work of complexity rarely seen before, and it was delicate. It''s also why I chose this species to do it on; the environment needed to be life-giving, not of my direct making, yet monitored and controlled with a tie to me.


    On those parameters, I took Earth as prime cradle material, my ''humanness'' from long ages ago only an added factor as it granted an ease to work on them close to unparalleled. At the core of my existence, a shred of my initial state of existence remained.


    Jumping from building to building, I waved at the dumbfounded crowd below while guards began to notice and follow me. Alas, never would they reach as I placed my palm on Timir Stambhah''s outer wall and was absorbed by it.


    Returning to a material state, I gazed at the ongoing dogfight between four siblings that any other human would think of as Gods: two sisters, Nahua and Dahut, and two brothers, Atlan and Shinar. All flaring with psychic power while flesh and blood were ripped apart and regrown all over their body as they lawlessly tried and failed to murder one another through hundreds of means, the runes of the city keeping them alive.


    Or, more accurately, the Mother of Psyker as she held sway over Shambhala, but she wasn''t of the mind to stop any of her children. Emotions guided her on a grim path as she sacrificed all but what she was due to give me to keep them alive. She constantly healed and revived them, hoping they would stop this madness.


    She didn''t want to fight them or see the fight unfold. Foolish, but that was the desperate action of a grieving mother. And me stopping this was not her wish, not that I would have; I wasn''t a family consultant, and I won''t impose my will on them.


    Yet someone was missing from the play, the third brother and the one who didn''t partake in the pact, and I wrapped myself in his room without his notice.


    "You won''t intervene, Allonius?" I inquired, mortifying the appearance-wise thirty-year-old man dressed in a golden and yellow rapidly scribbling on parchment with an enchanted feather. The last part flung to the side, making a mess of the writing.


    Spinning on himself, he bellowed with barely restrained aggression, "S???H???AT????T??E???R?!"


    Sadly for him, his words in Anoqey?n were like using rain to harm an ocean, pointless to the extreme, and I batted my imitation of the Song of Creation with my pinky, turning half of the room into crystalline shards no matter what material they were.


    "Impressive pronunciation." I praised him earnestly, neutralizing two other words of shattering, and at the same time, I delicately picked up one of the patisseries and magically made it vanish in my mouth. Quite good, the chef shall be blessed after.


    Anoqey?n was a powerful tool, and with it, reality could be bent, and being a psyker was not a requirement. Still, not anyone could use it, for it required a ludicrous amount of training and an exceptional mind. In addition, it was, at best of times, a suicidal endeavor. If a mistake were made, it would have dire consequences on the user, ranging from broken bones to the unmaking of oneself.


    Well, if it was used in such a ''uniquely barbaric way,'' a practice beside a scant few eccentric Khrave and now Aeldari was essentially inexistent. It was a magical language by nature, and it was best to use it as intended for magic. It was a potent gimmick, but a gimmick nonetheless to use it like the man here.


    It was why a human barely a few centuries old using Anoqey?n in such a way was extremely impressive.


    Though he was severely limited in his vocabulary and slow in his spelling, it didn''t diminish his value. The same was true for the wounds he got due to errors that were only healed thanks to his mother.


    "Won''t you stop this? Expecting a different result through an identical methodology is insanity given form!" I exclaimed in exasperation, turning his word into a warm breeze, and it titled him over, but he stopped nonetheless. My little telekinetic holds his frame of minor help. Diplomacy was always successful, with a bit of power thrown in the mix.


    "Who, no, what are you? What do you want from me?" He demanded, and I cocked my head at the insolence and laughable arrogance, a front of lies hiding his existential dread oozing from his soul I could taste.


    "There is no point in giving the knowledge you already possess¡­" I trailed off in a dark chuckle, horns flashing through my disguise for a moment, "As for what do I want from you, my dear young Oll?"


    "I want you to accept this gift of perpetuality." I enunciated to the confusedly distressed man as on my left palm a dark pentacle materialized, and faster than his optic nerves could send their message to his brain, my palm hit the exposed part of his chest, his heart, and atop of it, a snake of dark scale biting its tail while coiling into an eight was carved on his flesh.


    And nothing happened beyond this, physically, that is, but that Ollanius would only understand later as, while not a soul bound, his place was essential. An individual like him would be a catalyst for my spell¡ªan unknowing aid to grow and connect the runes.


    He would stew the pot.


    It was also a little consolation present for how deadly deathless life would be from then on. Why punish him for sins he didn''t commit? And if death he wants, I''m all ears; it''s not a curse I put on him contrary to its aesthetic.


    And with that, I smiled charmingly and winked before flying through a golden ring with the basket of snacks appearing above the psychic shield of the city. Then, I began to prevent the massacre of around a third of the worldwide human population.

 38. Raid of Solemnace

    Within the confines of Solemnace, a structure of age beyond the concept of mortal mind and an equal complexity, appearance, purpose, and functioning, was at its heart a strange skeletal figure of metal, the master of the lieu.


    His expression, which should have been unreadable by the lack of organic material such as muscles, proved quite the contrary as a frown existed and his eyes glowed a deeper sickly green.


    Tapping the but of his staff, the Emphatic Obliterator, on the ground, the sound echoed far and wide across an array of incompressible displays from the smallest and most insignificant of animals to a mummified specimen of a Neveborn species that had driven to extinction the most ancient biological sapient life form of the Milky Ways.


    "That does not bode well for a salutary visit." Trazyn the Infinite exclaimed with a sound regimescent of a tongue clicking as he rapidly walked in a circle for twenty thousand five hundred sixty-ninth time, the long brilliant cape behind fluttering dramatically in a non-existent breeze.


    It had been so long since the Necron Overlord and self-proclaimed guardian of history and relics felt such a way for little he could feel, and it wasn''t one of the most appetizing ones¡ªquite the opposite.


    The ancient Necron Lord was as greatly displeased as to why a sensation of the like graced his non-existent cold heart. Unwanted visitors desiring to desecrate his domain were around, but the conditions behind their presence were not any less displeasing.


    It shouldn''t have been possible to locate his Tomb World within the galaxy, and that was because it hadn''t been there, a fact that was not unique to his territory but pushed here a few degrees further. The Great Sleep, an act put into effect after the War in Heaven by the last of the existing Triarch, the Silent King, where his oath of silence was broken for the shattered Infinite Empire to retreat, hide, and enter a deep slumber until the time was ripe to awaken and regain what was stolen.


    A choice based on prophecies heralded by some of the greatest of astromancers, such as his most hated enemy. It was to wait out for the most psychically gifted slave race of the Old Ones to drive itself to near extinction, and then they would awaken.


    Trazyn was above this, and so he did not follow the ''strongly worded advice'' for one simple and valid reason, of course. Who was there but him as the unbiased collector of history to steward it and understand its infinite intricacies? Certainly not the teetering addicts to degeneracy calling themselves the Aeldari.


    And it was said addicts were currently trying and slowly succeeding in violating the sanctity of Solemnace as they did to everything with a hole or any equivalent, most often optionally artificially created.


    Their fall into decadence and the subsequent reasons why among failed genocides from one of their oh-so-precious godlings. What would one expect from a psychic construct with only thoughts of murder, rage, and violence on a galactic scale?


    It was like expecting a civilized conversation on the philosophy of peace with an Ork to go well. It was madness and stupidity, pure and simple.


    But their masquerade of a civilization barely above that of a herd of grazing mindless herbivores running happily to a pit of flesh-eating acid was not of the current matter.


    They were invading him! The gall, but it opened hundreds of questions, each more irking than the last. How did they find this place? How did they even know of the precise dimensional coordinate? How did they lock space and time itself on the exact frequencies that would shatter most escape options?


    Unless the force attacking him was far, far, far grandeur, that was precisely the case from the collected data. However, any fear or anger he might have was not for his safety but for everything else.


    Well, only partially, he was not deluded about the ingenious capability of the knife-ears to turn him into the most unspeakable things for nothing more than a passing puppet show if he were to be captured propper. It was only this twisted affair that they were superior to the Necron.


    "Activating the Blackstone Pillars would prove¡­ Effective but extensively destructive in theirs. Unacceptable parameters to abide by." He mumbled in irritation, tapping a metal finger on his metal chin in deep thought.


    Indeed, turning these structures on would prove scarily effective. Trazyn had made sure for his Crypteks to take extensive care of them, and as such, they likely were one of the few remaining reality-enforcing devices of such quality in existence. After all, they were just as much part of his curation as any other items, their functionality charging little to their status.


    And there came the problem and why he wasn''t turning them on to full capacity at this instant. His collection was not purely lacking in psychic nature; on the contrary, even. As such, it came to evidence that activating the Blackstone Pillars would destroy an exorbitant quantity of his painstakingly collected hoard.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It was unacceptable.


    Yet, it would work. Without the Archdjinni of the Rings, they were absolute to a point where not even the other Aeldari Gods could function in these anti-psychic fields. It would kill any would-be invader. It was why the War in Heaven would have been won if not for the insanity of Great Old One Cthylla.


    From these points, Trazyn was in a great internal dilemma, which was why he had ordered the end of the Great Sleep for the billions upon billions of Necron still in stasis of his world to prepare for the battle.


    He wasn''t without options. Diplomacy was a possibility currently ongoing, and so was contacting¡­ a certain cyclopean individual. To say the last was a close second to the activation of the reality fields would be putting it lightly.


    Alas, diplomacy in the following hours showed remarkably unsatisfactory results, and any further attempts to contact the Aeldari proved futile or were answered with elegantly worded insults. Their verbatim levels of which he rarely was a victim. And in response to the insolent vermins, he might or might not have answered in kind a few thousand times, reducing a zeroing possibility into one infinitely deep in the negative.


    He didn''t even get the exact reason for their coming! And since logic was an alien concept to them, he couldn''t predict their goals or if there were goals beyond the total annihilation of his Tomb World like many others.


    This righteous act left him with only one solution, one he viscerally hated, but sacrifice needed to be made. Stomping on the ground, his arms flailing around in anger, he settled down, his mental preparation done.


    "Orikan." He called cooly through a device shaped like a sarcophagus with only noticeable features: a glowing green symbol of a half circle connected by a straight line to a circle itself ending in four lines. A symbol he would have scratched off not for its importance in the device''s functioning.


    "I desire an exchange of favor between peers." Trazyn continued the mere insinuations of their equal status, almost physically hurting him. However, he knew that saying that would irk his counterpart equally, and as such, he would do so again and again.


    There was a long minute of silence, then a sickly green hologram of the Necron Cryptek he called manifested, the size in such a way the cyclop could look down on him. It was a petty power play he wisely ignored.


    "I will hear you, but be swift; time is precious, and yours evaporates. It would be wise not to let it flow into the sand of history." Came the sardonic reply edging on jubilant joy among a sea of unhidden displeased annoyance.


    "Let''s not play games, Orikan. Do you comprehend the reasons for my calling, or do I overestimate your capabilities?" Trazyn replied curly, the hold on his staff tightening.


    "Mayhaps yes, mayhap no, the Devil''s rebirth and awakening tragically blur my sight. I cannot assure you that your accusations are founded in reality or dementia. But I do accept your offer." The Necron Cryptek said cryptically in response.


    "The Devil? His death was grossly exaggerated, it seems. And what of it?" Trazyn probed. There was more to it than what was let on. There had always been something about his rival on this God of Darkness, a minute shift he sensed.


    "Everything, Trazyn, everything, from the massacre of the arrogant saurians, children, and adults to the existence of the Necron to this day, even after the greatest of defeat since time immemorial." The astromancer revealed, and Trazyn took a lengthy second processing what was said and its implication, explaining grand mysteries filled with inconsistencies he barely grasped until this moment.


    Trazyn understood that the Diviner had commuted with the Archdjinni of the Rings.


    "You are a traitor." He said more of an emotionless statement than an accusation.


    "And so are you by not heeding my auguries. You assented for our species to undergo the cursed gift of the Deceiver. You eagerly partook in the destruction of our people. If there were a traitor here, it wouldn''t be me." Orikan answered back in a similar tone, but venom could be tasted behind that statement.


    "I did no such thing, Orikan." Trazyn exclaimed in silent rage, certain of his words on the matter; the bio-transfer had been forced upon him. Yet, at least he embraced it instead of brooding on an inaccessible, unchangeable past. If it were a denial of reality or reality itself, both Necron would swear otherwise.


    Then the world shook, and a magnificent pottery representing the three suns of an unknown planet shattered on the ground. Alarms quickly followed it and further shook, destroying even more priceless art of long-gone species and ancient cultures.


    "Lord Trazyn, the dimensional realms are shifting. They are slithering through the fissures. What are your orders?" The smooth, suave voice of Sannet echoed after the sound of air collapsing, causing the one-eyed Necron of the two to snort in amusement, the timeline of the event confirming his suspicion.


    "Already, your defenses are failing? Appealing to me at such a time, foolishness has not left you, it seems. But I won''t judge your dubious choice and reasoning; accept this information and follow the instructions. There is little time to waste." Orikan said mockingly, offering a green flying rectangle of light to Trazyn, who, grumbling, took the data packet and shared it with his Arch-Cryptek with a summary of what had been said.


    "What manner of arcane wizardry is this madness?! Shattering the veil and pulling through the Abyss of the Immaterium by interfacing by psionic matrixes¡­ What is this realm? How are those layered calculus connecting to the-what is that? What is this language? This doesn''t make any sense! I don''t understand!" Sannet was the first to voice his thoughts, but he understood that it was essentially a ''spell'' with the purpose of ''cutting'' a fragment of the Materium and ''pasting'' it elsewhere.


    "I see," Trazyn said in a far calmer tone, calculating the dimensions given to what could be saved from his museum, and he didn''t like the result at all. With that, he could save a non-insignificant portion of what the Blackstone Pillars would destroy. He wasn''t pleased, but sacrifices were required, or all would be lost.


    "Open gates through the annotated coordinate by following the protocols, and we can begin." And with those last words, the life-like holographic image of Orikan the Diviner fizzled out.


    "Do as he said," Trazyn ordered.


    "I must inform you of the great consequences this reckless act will have on our weakened defense''s integri-" The Arch-Cryptek couldn''t finish, interrupted by his Overlord with a wide, dramatic hand gesture.


    "I know, Sannet, but unless you would prefer the alternative, I order you to follow their instructions to their every last-minute detail. My punishment, if you fail this simple command, if you fail this simple command will be lesser than our uninvited guest as I do not possess the same mastery with their twisted toys. But you do not want to experience their wonder no matter their wielders?" Trazyn hissed the threat with a brilliant flash of light as he vanished to begin organizing his collection for defense and safekeeping.


    Left alone, Sannet placed a vase back on its pedestal and glared with his vibrant optics at the expense of the collection spanning to the heaven where the sky was shattering, and he followed on his liege command. The recent burst of information changed things for the worse, no matter the outcome of the ongoing event.


    Unless he was ready to forgo everything and prepare for the worst by working on achieving that until his given task came first, even if he was doubting it from start to end, freeing the C''tan shards for them to devour each other and form a complete one was a more sound plan than flinging a tenth of the planet to somewhere unknown.


    It didn''t matter if it came from someone as esteemed as Orikan the Diviner. He could as well be a trusted ally as a death-sworn enemy.

 39. Of Khrave, Aeldari and Necron

    Archdeacon Majun was a very busy Khrave. His position as the head of the most pious faction of the Dark Coven demanded that from him, and he was happy to oblige, giving his body, mind, and soul to the Lord of Magic. The God he and his kind swore their very existence to and their savior from destruction as a mere forgotten primitive species was the highest honor.


    Their ancestry was not hidden or forgotten knowledge. The simple notion that it would be was considered heretical and worthy of disciplinary training in and of itself. What they once were was known as what had happened and the conditions surrounding their fate. Naught was a secret. It was known that their existence would have been a blink of nothing, an unimportant casualty between forces above their meager comprehension.


    And yet their God on the day he was born, the sun had been dark as was their bleak future stirred them from an ultimate end, the dusk of their existence. He brought the dawn, overshadowing the darkness by his dark presence. One far too great for them, as was his divine voice, and they had been the first mortals to have heard it, to have their souls bath in its essence.


    So magnificent was it and unworthy they were, death claimed them by the millions, culling the feebles for only the strongest to be given his blessing. Gone was their mortal coil of unchangeable flesh and enslavement to a greater will. Freedom was given to them in all of its forms. Physical, magical, and mental.


    In recent times, he had been ever more busy; the creation of Avatars had alleviated his burden and that of all in the Ark of Life, their alliance with other sophonts lifeforms. But the two manifestations of the sealed God were not omnipotent or an answer to all problems. Their worth was immense as they used the Keys of the Flask for mediums. They couldn''t be dispatched carelessly.


    Even without this, aspects of theirs, Majun and educated Khrave, were not led to misunderstand the ability of their Sire. Powerful and knowledgeable as Hoopa is, his influence was limited or costly to use, such as the Blackstone Fortresses of Yuggoth. Firing them was a last resort.


    It befell him as the Archdeacon to put his effort into the project to his status, and one of these moments was as he walked out of a black tear in reality to a place of the most bizarre of exhibits. Though Danxama would arrive for this case in a few minutes, the coming spells risked being perturbed by its presence right now. The second one was far less durable and unadapted for areas outside the Golden Gates ranges.


    Until then, he was the strongest authority and would act accordingly.


    He wasn''t unfamiliar with Necron, their cultures, philosophies, or current state of existence as echoes of souls imprinted on artificial puppet bodies. It was a sad one if he ever were to say it. More so with the current state of affairs, the generous offer to Orikan had yet to bore results as most Tomb World simply were no more and the contradictory nature of the act itself.


    The largest factor, the Silent King, having fled the Milky Way, did not assist in the matter. Still, even if Majun''s experience with these unliving automatons was limited to the Diviner, he wasn''t ignorant of how eccentric this Necron Overlord was as he took on the place.


    It appeared to be a collection, though calling it that didn''t do it any favor and was somewhat untrue to the grandeur and scale of the museum before him. Objects were put into evidence, some of simple clay made by primitive lifeforms, while others were weapons of mass destruction.


    But those paled compared to the images of history frozen in time put on display like mere pictures or of living specimens in stasis fields such as ancient and seemingly intact Krorks currently transported by eight-legged creatures of green light and necrodermis toward the coordinated given.


    "What manner of creatures are you?" A decidedly synthetic voice with a masculine quality called from his right, and Majun turned to face his host.


    Trazyn the Infinite, Necron Overlord, and Master of the Tomb World known as Solemnace were currently on and were under the assault of the Aeldari Empire.


    An eccentric individual with a passion for permanently borrowing events, objects, and people without permission and for an underestimated amount of time. The ultimate goal was quite noble, the safekeeping of history, but the methods used were debatable, not that Majun was one to play on morals.


    It was a horrid concept that hardly made any empirical sense. He preferred the Five Pillars, the edict of the Beast. There was no need for overly complicated and contradictory codes of conduct to exist as a method to justify one''s own actions.


    There were several more descriptors to this individual of significance, but as they came from Orikan, their unbiased nature was heavily debated.


    Regardless, he decided to answer the future second Necron to join the service of his Lord, that the one concerned was ignorant of the honor. This position was related to the Vault, the divine coffer of Hoopa, as a guardian and treasurer was unneeded to be voiced either.


    "Well met, to begin would be appreciated, Necron, but manners and decorum are of little importance, are they not? As to what I am? An honored Child of the Dawn, descendants of one of the countless casualties of your little war of the past with the Old Ones, fucking frogs, piece of shit destroyed. I''m known as Archdeacon Majun." Majun stated matter of factly, oblivious to the meaning behind the last few words beyond that it was a pejorative description of the Old Ones by Hoopa in many of their communions.


    The visceral hatred so deep and hot it would awe both Gods dedicated to that emotion may have sipped in the Khrave minds, though it wasn''t blind, and what was hated was more of the species'' mindset than its actions or creations. As such, it was present in Majun''s voice and sensed by Trazyn to the latter''s shock.


    "Isn''t your master the Devil?" The Necron questioned curiously. The turns of events didn''t quite add up with his present set of information. Indeed, he only chose this option given by Orikan out of desperation and that he understood the Diviner''s inability for anyone but himself to end him.


    "Yes, if that is the erroneous locution you utilize to describe our Lord, your lack of understanding is understandable. Time is short-" The sky of dimensional realities fractured further Majun''s arrival, only accentuating it to an immense degree, as predicted, "-as you can see. But I can reveal that the relation between him and them is not antithetical to yours and the Star Gods. One of forceful servitude and chains."


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    "Fascinating." Trazyn hummed; the inane babble from the foolish cyclops began to be worthy of consideration here if what was said was true. Considering the annihilation of the Old Ones after the Magician''s illogical action and subsequent explosive suicide resulting in the Aeldari Gods decimating every remnant of the Infinite Empire, if not for a sudden existential urgency, then what was said likely wasn''t a lie. But as the winged creature reminded him, time was lacking.


    "I must inform you to remain passive toward who will pass those gates."


    After those words, Khraves walked out; that was to no surprise, but the smaller figures within them were. Their faces remained hidden by helmets, but sensors encompassing the room they were in told the species hiding behind those armors.


    Aeldari.


    The immediate connection that these were from the one attacking was considered a possibility but only briefly in Trazyn''s processor. The idea of Orikan associating himself with them wasn''t an impossibility, neither for the Khrave, but for the Aeldari of the greater Empire to lower themselves was where the idea died.


    Those were a different breed¡ªeither clones or recruited from the less hysterical portion of the knife-ears population. However, the presence of five-pointed stars indicated who they worshiped.


    Their supposed extinction proving to be suppositions put ablaze the brazier of collection in his non-existent heart. The same was true for their more brightly colored cousins as the third ''group'' to come out. Trazyn, despite his best effort, didn''t manage captu-er safeguard at least one of them for the firsts and the others in scarily low numbers with only three specimens, none troupe master.


    As to who these were? The Harlequins and Magi, or in Aeldari the Rillietann and Qualistar''quan, the servants who only laid loyalty to their respective Gods, the Great Harlequin for the first and Archdjinni of the Rings for the second.


    Otherwise known as one of the biggest pains to fight for, it wasn''t their raw power that was their greatest strength but their trickery, swiftness, adaptability, and abilities to function as one entity. They had been the epitome of annoyance made manifest.


    As for Majun, the progress shown by the Magi was not a source of jealousy compared to Khraves. The Aeldari''s greatest talent was in that domain, partaking in their uses of psychic power and virtually the only significant advantage they had over his people.


    Experiencing anything but satisfaction was a lack of logic he was alien to. He had assisted them as the ultimate authority of the Church of the Beast to form a structured organization with the purpose of developing and understanding the foundation of their society: magic.


    Each species had its ups and downs. None was perfect, and saying so was empirically inaccurate, impossible, and a show of arrogance and ignorance to be viciously stomped down.


    The Khraves embraced certain aspects of the Archdjinni of the Rings, as did the Aeldari and other species. Most particularly, one that his Lord was exceptionally fond of for some mysterious reason his mind was unworthy of comprehending. One tied to a project not even he was privy to have the secret of but knew its importance.


    It was to say that it was not a battle of ego, a foolish endeavor, though he also understood that as one of the if not the strongest psyker of the Dark Coven and their ally, he might be slightly biased in that regard. In the end, it mattered not; their loyalty was equal to that of any of the Khrave, and as such, they were trusted and treated equally.


    Not that any other options would have been approved by their God as long as proof of their willingness was given. Hoopa was not a distant nebulous creature pulling strings and expecting exact results. He was more direct and less pointlessly subtle in his approach. His presence was in the life of all; none could hide from his gaze, and no darkness was unknown to the master of them all.


    "After this fiasco, would you appreciate visiting my curated collection? Or what remains of it from this uncultured curs!" Trazyn requested, waving an angry, closed fist to the sky as if it would fix anything.


    Majun chirped in amusement at the Necron''s odd behavior, aware of the danger in the words of such a being, but it mattered not. He knew he was not eternal, and when the time would come, he would become part of his Lord.


    "I will see to it when the time is ripe, Necron." Majun snorted curtly, his focus switching to scenes of immense arcane unfolding. Runes were drawn by dancing clowns as leathery wings fluttered, their owner weaving webs of energy while between the two, the less extravagant of the Aeldari began to channel spells for the ritual.


    A ritual that would take time to be completed, time they lacked.


    "Excellent." Trazyn hummed pensively, "I wonder¡­ What are your goals? Or the Devil, your master, if I may be permitted to ask. I scarcely understand the true reasons for your presence, yet I know it lacks goodhearted charity. You desire what is mine; that is evident."


    "We do not seek destruction that I can promise; however, your view is right, Necron. You have in your custody certain objects of great value to our Lord. This invasion of a common foe is merely convenient for us to obtain them, though we''re not vulgar pillagers, and you are to win in equal measure." The Khrave explained plainly, a lack of shame or emotion for that matter sipping through.


    In reality, it was more of a matter of haste. Diplomacy would have been preferred over brute force, but if the result didn''t differ, then the paths taken were inconsequential. Trade would have still been at the forefront, but alas, reality wasn''t as pleasant. His Lord saw species and individuals for what they were and acted accordingly, and this led to the present situation.


    "Of course, of cours-" The ripple across space and time from the dimensions shattering further interrupted Trazyn sarcasm sarcasm-filled answer as entire swathes of his museum were permanently destroyed, to his dismay.


    "Oh¡­ Is that the two of the fabled Dark Muses?" The Archdeacon mumbled, staring unblinkingly at one of the hundreds of holes that had opened and from which, like a swarm of insects, Aeldari and their cursed constructs, both of flesh and wraithbone, poured. Their ships were too large to enter¡­ for now, but by Majun''s knowledge, he doubted they deemed it worthy of the efforts.


    "The ''what'' now?" Trazyn almost parroted, hating to the deepest recess of his energy-generating core to be out of the loop. However, what he knew was that those two floating down were extremely potent psykers, potent enough to be the top echelon of elite troops within the War in Heaven.


    If that wasn''t a scary prospect, raw power wasn''t the end and be of it all if it wasn''t in astronomical quantity, and even then, it didn''t mean invincibility. But he wouldn''t put much faith in them turning out incompetents. Arrogant as Aeldari were for lesser if cunning beings, it wasn''t unwarranted; very little could thwart them.


    The first ''Dark Muse'' was a female Aeldari by the look of her unprotected face and body-tight armor in an elegant robe of scarlet ribbons. It also didn''t hide her age or what she wanted to show. An aged figure with scintillating vermillion red lips and eyelids followed by an ever-flowing mane of the same color.


    It was her that spoke first as she gazed down with a homogeneous mix of visceral disgust and ecstatic chagrin at them, though the attention of her proper focus was the Aeldari.


    "I became aware that naive ignorance ran deep in your misguided souls¡­ Guiding you to enlightenment was a destiny given, and yet it proved to be an impossibility. Redemption is lost. I''m heart stricken with sorrow, but I fear there is no remedy for your ailments of treachery and supine nature but through the gift of martyred destruction." She exclaimed in hurt, sweet grandmotherly love oozing like syrupy venom as if the sight physically wounded her body, mind, and soul.


    The genuineness was so intrinsically authentic in her tone and body language that it appeared as both it and its opposite, and none could tell which was which. However, the truth of the matter was void of lies as the second Dark Muse followed in, voice strident like the sound of blade clashing on steel.


    "Your gentle solicitudes are wasted on these traitorous swine, Hekatii. Nevertheless, they would not appreciate or even comprehend the immaculate virtues of the Dark Prince''s divine ways." Her body was no less exposed, showing a hardened visage lacking the unnatural symmetry of her kind as scars adorned her. Blades of many shapes and sizes adorned her lithe, muscular figure, numerous ones deep in her flesh yet leaving her unmolested and unfazed.


    "I fear that your eyes are capturing the veracious nature of their fall, Qa''leh." The first spoke with finality, neither making it a secret of their conversation. After all, why would the Red Crone and Mistress of Blades possess the needs to.


    "And little Shaimesh was correct in his report of those creatures¡­" Qa''leh added with cold shimmering fury as, with a flick of her hand, a blade flew, shattering the local sound barriers multiple times over, to only be deflected by it''s upper right clawed hand.


    "Though this shall prove interesting."

 40. Mistress of Blades Deathmatch

    "Though this shall prove interesting." The Mistress of Blades exclaimed with the faintest trace of a smile. The one she had thrown a knife at rapidly approached her using its massive leathery wings.


    It was fairly powerful, in pure psychic power from what it was letting out and her reading, at the very least. It was encroaching in the same league as her, as insulting as the matter was. It was the strongest psychic lower lifeform she had the fortune to encounter.


    And that truly picked her interest; it was exceptionally rare to fall unto such a being, and they always proved highly entertaining.


    "I demand you to waste your asinine effort at another location." It said in Aeldari, and if not for Qa''leh''s telepathic message, Hekatii would have jumped and burned this creature unworthy of existence to an agonizing cinder in body, mind, and soul.


    And there was more to that, notably the distorted golden holy effigy on its unsightly rag that served as a poor dress. How much the Red Crone wanted to befall judgment on this parasite, but alas, it wouldn''t come. Not now, at the very least; she was not one known to forget.


    -It''s mine.- Qa''leh sent the tone indicating no other alternative would be accepted.


    -Then it shall be.- She answered comprehensively; there were more pressing matters, such as the lost ones of the Empire and the goal of their mission.


    Hekatii then floated away, letting the younger of the Dark Muse her due prize, only to be interrupted by a sharp probe on her mind; barriers shattered into flakes as it was followed by a short sharp pain and a hot wet trickle down her nose¡­ She touched it, the psycho-tactile nature of her gloves letting her know what it was if the sensation of hurt was not enough evidence.


    Yet she was in disbelief, unable to process the impossibility of the present. Denial. Confusion. Incredulity and many more flashed through her mind.


    It was blood¡­ Her blood¡­ she had been wounded¡­. her¡­ ho-how¡­ How-HOW DARE THEY!?


    Righteous anger overflowed as her head mechanically turned to the source of the blasphemous touch, the pitiful attempt to hurt her superior existence. All serene regality was gone as her maddened eyes, brimming with undiluted psychic power, landed one insignificant little soulless automaton with a peculiar staff in hand.


    "Ah, I miscalculated¡­ My most sincere apologies, lowly wench." The undead abomination let out, staring at the dying glow of its heretical weaponry using technology designed to grant true death to the chosen people¡ªa fate she would have shared if not for her careful preparation of the mind defense art and equipment.


    The use of Aeldari with a mocking accent and the insult added to the burning hot anger coursing psychically through her body as reason slipped away.


    "Hum¡­ Tactical retreat seems advisable." Was all the Necron uttered before his displeased one-woman audience and wisely decided to flee, vanishing in green particles, but it wasn''t enough for the Red Crone to lose sight of him, and so began a game of cat and mouse, who was whom yet to be determined.


    "Undisciplined primitive animal. So little for you to lose the little sentience blessing your soul." The unsightly winged creature exclaimed with cold disappointment before refocusing on his opponent. The haughty surety present until now shifted to shimmering fury of extreme proportion, but Majun couldn''t study such an amusing visage as a blade aimed at his head.


    One howled in agony as it bared a soul. No, it was multiple souls clumped together enough to keep a semblance of individuality made physical material and turned into weapons. Still, it wasn''t the time to study this profane and needlessly sadistic technology.


    A delicately interwoven shield of silky runes weaved itself into existence like the most immaculate of coats, stopping a potentially fatal strike by intertwining itself with the offending blade. Hundreds of smaller blades of all shapes chaotically danced around the Mistress of Blades in a magnificent display of raw, vicious violence aiming at key points of the shield, testing hundreds of alternatives per second, searching for any weakness in the psychic weave, and succeeding.


    It was no mere blade play. The Dark Muse was dancing, expressing her sordid art in a display incomprehensible to mortal minds. Her very soul and flesh extended to her weapons as all were one and the same in a euphoric symphony of bloodlust.


    But her current effort yielded little result, to her immense frustration and deeply hidden elation for a warrior she was at heart.


    This standstill didn''t last any further as its pointless nature was evident to both parties,


    "Be honored, Mon''Keigh, for on this esteemed day, you shall become one of my finest blades, resi-" She was silenced as the Archdeacon acted first, not in the mental state for quips or banter¡ªone of the paramount lessons of his Lord. Gloating was only allowed when victory was attained, and even then, it was a luxury.


    And so the bubble of silken nebulae exploded, blinding the Dark Muse briefly. But this brief instant was enough for Majun to jump in and out of Realspace, reappearing behind his mildly stunned opponent.


    A pentagram floated millimeters above his downward striking palm; it was composed of the classical pentacle with three seemingly innocent-looking dots connecting to her. The thin blades dug through his limbs as the Khrave did so beyond anything he had experienced, whether physical or mental, but it didn''t stop him.


    His faith was far too strong for such measly gimmicks to hinder him, and the management of pain wasn''t one he was alien to. Hoopa, having dictated this sensation, from its uses to power in countless scenarios. It was a magnificently horrific tool in the right hand.


    The Aeldari God of Magic had such confectioned spells to resist it, used it to heal but also created it at an extreme degree, able to affect even mindless Necron. As such, Majun muted it easily, but he acknowledged how pushed it was. This running agony wasn''t natural pain, and to purge it from his system, a trip to Dylath-Leen was required.


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    The agony aside, three things happened after the contact. First, the dots spread. The one with a positive glyph flowed to her nape while the one with a negative glyph to her lumbar region, and the third was put between the two. Second, the positive and negative activated, and in a mimicry of magnetism, attracted one another. The third, the last dot, created a vector to use the force generated to propel itself forward.


    The effects were immediate, Qa''leh''s body sickeningly twisted, like a brittle twig, her back snapping backward at an angle impossible even for Aeldari in a fraction of a microsecond. She was flung forward with extreme force and velocity, leaving in her wake sonic booms and ionized air, destroying all in front of her like a comet in a clear night sky. Blades scattered erratically in the air with the initial shock wave behind.


    ''That won''t kill her.'' Majun astutely noted, however, that he didn''t ponder senselessly on the resistance of his foe or was disenchanted by the result. His action wasn''t aimed at killing, not that it was possible with such a superficial attack.


    Fleshy wounds, if they weren''t total bodily destruction, were on creatures of their station of an ephemeral nature. And it wasn''t wise to push too far when the goal wasn''t to destroy; despair was a double-edged sword.


    This breathing moment in the chaos of the battlefield was not to be left in vain. The other combatants were aware of the scale for one half and unwilling to attract the sadistic ire of their mistress for the other, so they let the Khrave do as he pleased.


    Using his shapeshifting to close and heal the wounds, he lifted his upper pair of arms, and, in a flagrant show of light, dozens of spinning arcane circles appeared, each unique and of mysterious glyphs with only a common point, a central five-pointed star. However, any respectable Magii would know of their nature to seal using a sumptuous array of runes that turned the prisoner''s effort to escape into energy for the prison up to a certain threshold.


    And it showed the immense skill of the Archdeacon. It was an incantation inspired by the Flask of Sealing but evidently of a countless magnitude in inferiority. The poetic irony of the spell''s trapping purpose in context to the history of the Archdjinni of the Rings was not lost on Majun.


    Still¡­


    "Oh¡­ fuck." He mused in discontentment, the word at the end borrowed from his Lord without a proper understanding of it besides it was when an object or situation was unpleasant. A word of immense wisdom fitting rightfully his current predicament.


    The closest of the blade lit up, and from it, the Dark Muse formed, her sneering face caked in blood and a minor muscle-deep burn in a belligerent sneer of catatonic anger in perfect tune with the disheveled hair. For the part of her skull not partially cremated but hideous as those wounds appeared, showing the color of her inside, they weren''t grievous and already in the process of swiftly knitting themselves.


    As he predicted, the Archdeacon would have thought she was well and alive if pissed off, but that was the only part of his calculation. He lacked information on her. Her sudden teleportation and the following myriad of blades flying to turn into a tattered bloody lint of skin was the price of his ignorance, but teleporting would cancel his spell.


    He made a split-second decision, a sacrifice for success; casting another spell was impossible given the current parameters, but the Khrave innate shapeshifting ability wasn''t under the same restrictions. Calling it shapeshifting didn''t do it any favor. It was absolute control of one''s own body if trained adequately.


    And so his form exploded outward, diminished upper body with torso, arms, wings, and head detaching from skin and garments. This extreme act of autotomy left his lower half and remained where he once was. The poor imitation of his true self turned into an eruption of gore and blade an instant later.


    He had ejected himself from his very skin, saving it in the process. Though it wasn''t a perfect escape, several dozen blades reached him regardless, spearing in his flesh and out. But it was a measured risk, the wounds in the realms of the acceptable. And so it worked.


    The Aeldari cruel smirk of victory became one of immense confusion and rapidly to greater heights of anger as her mind grasped the cowardly ploy.


    Alas, her emotions, in all their intensity, were useless. Her winged opponent clapping exposed muscles on exposed muscles indicated the end of his casting. Running and fleeing as she might have tried from the five ethereal chains of crystal, it proved to be great efforts put in vain.


    One latched to her right hand on a miscalculated warp jump between her blades, and from then on, the half a minute of chasing ended in an anticlimactic finally. Her blades couldn''t cut through them, only deflect, but like snakes, they shifted. Her other hand was next, and her neck and legs quickly followed it.


    The Dark Muse''s trashing, cursing, and screaming were all but white noise and unnoticeable in the frenzy of the battle. Her psychic power was unable to leave the confines of her body before being devoured by the pentagram that her body was slammed against, the point of origin of the chains.


    Qa''leh, the Dark Muse, the Mistress of Blades, had been neutralized. Majun, not one to brag, ignored her and clothed himself in what little of his self-repairing garb remained, his dark red muscles shifting to the usual dark, chitinous, furry skin of his kind. The holes and internal hemorrhage were closed as well.


    There was still much to do. The battle was far from over, and his place in it had shifted to a supportive role.


    Words would fail to depict the battlefield beyond chaos, objects not brought to the rituals circles flying, scattering, and exploding around between skirmishes; it wasn''t a field of cataclysmic destruction, but death and violence remained a constant.


    Ultimately, it was of Necron, Harlequins, Magi, and Imperial Aeldari in a maddening display heedless of dangers of light and power, with neither side gaining significant ground.


    One held the advantage of raw numbers and pure power, but the other possessed skill and blessing unparalleled, or so it was for true believers of the Aeldari Gods. As technologically superior in the realm of reality as the Necron were, compared to Khrave and Aeldari, they remained handicapped in the world of the supernatural. But it was merely a hurdle.


    As more cracks came in the dimensional barriers, the more the invading side edged toward absolute and certain victory.


    Within the current time frame, at least one Arch-Cryptek was displeased by the present as he oversaw and controlled a tide of dark grey and sickly remained ready to act upon the treacherous unthinkable. Though calling it so was a significant exaggeration in Sannet''s humble opinion, it was common courtesy and merely to wait when the time was ripe to keep what he had sworn per his position safely.


    Until then, he was to observe and react accordingly, which he did with immense success. The goal wasn''t to win. It was an impossibility as the downpour from the outside would ceaselessly increase; it was to gain time.


    Indeed, there was no point in aiming to be deadly; killing was far harder with this adversary. Sannet didn''t like this plan, judging it unworthy of the risk, but he was a servant and would obey.


    And he was humble enough to acquiesce to his wrong. One of the two main targets, the first ''Dark Muse,'' was trapped. None was ordered to fire as they were informed it could disrupt the spell, and the invading force didn''t either. If it was out of malice, fear, shock, or confusion, none could tell, and Sannet didn''t care for those pests'' lesser cognitive competencies.


    As for the second, the old fiery-haired one able to handily resist a resonating blast of the Empathic Obliterator of his Overlord was pursuing said Overlord. Admittedly, only thanks to the insect''s cunning, but it had worked as intended regardless of how Trazyn fled across the Solemnace from the living, unholy storm of all-consuming psychic flame may look.


    His Lord periodically screams and randomly throws objects at his pursuer, one of the scarce few sights to alleviate his dulled emotions. The non-use of Terrescat Labyrinth was perplexing, but the current state of affairs was unfit for optimal dimensional containment, so he could at least understand that.


    "Heeenllooo robot fren!" A squeaky, high-pitched voice came from behind the Arch-Cryptek, and if not for lacking a natural biological barrier to jump off, he would have. A Harlequin, by all accounts, his scanner gave and from the clothing a Solitaire, female by the curves of the surplus of fatty tissue, one of the most skilled, powerful, and impossibly annoying of these clowns.


    "Uwaah! No response. How can you be so cold and heartless? Why the steely stare?" She cried out, fake tears of light pouring in comical quantities from her half-despairing half, laughing mask.


    There were a number of hypotheses in the Necron processors on the presence of this¡­ titering vomit of colors. Notably how she found him, how she got here, how she passed every security measure, and more. It was deeply irritating.


    "What is the operative function of your presence, Solitaire?" He demanded cooly, his body never once having moved from the start. His processing power focused on the battle.


    "Err, to turn on the Blackstone Pillars." The Solitaire said awkwardly, scratching the back of her as if embarrassment was anything but an alien sensation to her.


    "Acknowledged you may-and she is gone," Sannet exclaimed, an annoyed grumble at the end of all he did to demonstrate his discontentment at the Aeldari unladylike approach and rude disappearance.


    But the time wasn''t wasted on asinine mysteries. He had a task, and he couldn''t be happier to see it carried.

 41. Predicted End

    -Fall back.- A calm authoritative echoed across the minds of thousands of Aeldari, the owner and evidence to all, Archdeacon Majun, and the meaning behind the calm order even more so.


    This mission was from the Gods themselves, a divine edict of great importance they had the immense honor to make reality, for their Gods were the truth and only authority to abide in this dwindling galaxy of depravity and insanity. It was a mandate, simple in nature, to gain time and complete one relatively uncomplicated yet extended ritual in its preparation and personnel required.


    It was to transplant a part of space-time to another. It was an equivalent exchange, at least within the present context, and in reality, it was two such rituals happening at once. The one here and the other in the alternate dimension, the Dark Cradle, and precisely on the planet of Kamal, the central world of the Khrave and the heart of their civilization for the past eons.


    It was the optimal location for reality, and unreality was under the dark dominion of the Beast and impenetrable to the schemes of emotional tumors; however, doing so came with a price. The price of secrecy would reveal it if someone talented and powerful enough used the psychic feedback the exchange would project. A reality that was certain to come to fruition.


    But this piece of knowledge was pointless without the ability to use it, and unless the Bloody-Handed God himself was freed, little to nothing could be done. The Archdjinni of the Rings measures were untouchable and incomprehensible by mortals and beyond.


    It was to say that the risks were minimal and effectively null; the war with the Aeldari Empire would have come no matter the circumstance, and this trail would serve as a diversion. One ending in dissatisfaction.


    Regardless, the present was set, and the journey was known.


    "Oh dear! No! Do not leave me behind in the presence of this lunatic pyromaniac wen-sh-" Trazyn the Infinite scream was deafened by an immense explosion of psychic fire that ate through his entire left arm, destabilizing the stasis field he put his knife eared fiery pursuer in.


    "ENOUGH! BE PURIFIED FROM YOUR SINS BY THE HOLY FLAME OF JUDGMENT AND JUSTICE!" The Dark Muse known as the Red Crone hollered, her strident psychic-enhanced scream echoed across Solemnace.


    "Fu-" The Overlord swearing was interrupted by an alien sensation not felt for what might very well be counted in eternity, especially pain. How remained an impossibility as was the impossible sensation.


    Though calling it so would be inaccurate, artificial psychic pain on higher ranked Necron had been effective, if only ever done by the Archdjinni of the Rings, the Devil, for whatever reason, the mad beast of destruction thought as necessary and seemingly excelled and reveled in. And the knowledge of it visibly had passed the damage of time, only striving to ''improve.''


    Trazyn would work under such a monstrous creature, but the pain from the blow he failed to dodge was sufficient to evaporate all his past, present, and future doubts. Clearly, pain worked that much, he could begrudgingly admit.


    "FLEEING FROM THE CURSED CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR UNWORTHY EXISTENCE IS USELESS! ACCEPT MY MAGNANITUDE!" The Aeldari continued her pursuit as Trazyn his escape, and in a flash of green particles, he disappeared, leaving Hekatii in her rageful lonesome.


    Like a rabid animal, she searched for her prey, but unlike the hundredth of precedent time, the Overlord could not be found. There was a short moment of confusion; the pattern had been shattered, and within that time of silence, her mind cooled enough for her to understand as his eyes turned to the spellcraft finishing to be woven.


    She had been tricked, utterly fooled like an ignorant babe; the little rationality that may have existed vanished, burned to ash under the baleful flame of her anger. All light from the dimmest flicker of green to the multitude of chandeliers for one fraction of a second vanished as a star appeared.


    One of pure, unfiltered, rampaging wrathful psychic power as the Red Crone abandoned all measure of restraint, yet it was too late, far too late. Time and space may contort in her presence as she flew like a shooting meteor in the night sky, hands wide open to annihilate all, but it was too late regardless and of no use.


    The ritual had reached completion, and every of the traitorous Aeldari, dead or alive, was gone in a muted sound of glass shattering, the objects within as well. However, there was little time to rage as raw existential terror followed after this act of disapparition.


    The shattered rules of reality forced themselves together stronger than ever in unstoppable, rippling pulses of translucent energy. Any and all defying them were eclipsed and forced into the gaping maw of absolute nihility. Screams were heard, visceral and strident, as unfortunate pious ones had their souls extinguished.


    It snapped Hekatii back to the world of the thinking folks. She immediately ordered the retreat, and all conscious answered, but one was missing.


    -Qa''leh!- She telepathically cried amid the dying loyal citizens of the Empire to her fellow Dark Muse, and she got a blank. However, it let her pinpoint where the Mistress of Blade is¡­ was. Chained on an unholy construct was Qa''leh, her expression of fear etched over her immaculate feature, an expression that shouldn''t, couldn''t exist on one such as her, and yet¡­


    And yet it was the observable empirical reality Hekatii witnessed as a superior being whose mind and soul were slowly eroded to a point where little remained.


    Unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE. Their fate was not to be so! Death was inconceivable through such a path, and not until the time was ripe!


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    From the Red Crone''s back, hundreds of fiery, malleable hands exploded and dived into the realm of reality, and she followed them, the two enough not to be snuffed out, but her power dwindled steeply and never stopped.


    But she was quick, and the seal was weak, and so incandescent flames coiled around the comatose Mistress of Blades, then she fled with her prize, teleporting herself with her fellow Dark Muse at the heart of her vessel.


    The assault had been thwarted; they had tricked themselves into defeat, and this day will forever be remembered and become a catalyst.


    Yet in another place at the heart of the highest peak of the Dark City known as Commoragh was a spacious, luxurious room in which the details of this failure were spoken openly¡­


    "Disappointing but unsurprising. Those are no mere inferior life forms, and the two have grown detached from reality. It was a necessary reminder of their roots." Vileth, the Cardinal Gospel, and the head of the Dark Muses spoke with disinterest, a soft hand of palish grey skin on his chin as the other twirled a glass of liquefied yet aware tortured souls.


    His appearance of a young Aeldari entering adulthood was the example of falsehood to its letters, the same for his clothing betraying all ideas of his station. Simple and unrefined, one might even call them barring if not for the punishment that would follow. The only notable feature was elegant feathered gauntlets ending in talon-like claws.


    And his words were true. The chance of the attack on the soulless automaton fortress to be successful was extensively slim. Information gathering had been the main goal, and the lack of the ring, while frustrating, was merely the end of a branch in a forest of plans from the great chaos beyond.


    It was a measure to gain time, but they had enough already; more would have been a luxury. The awakening was too late; change was to come, and the nascent and ancient will merge.


    When the Golden Light achieves its purpose, he will be free from the shackles of life, and the rageful godling with its kins will be punished in all-consuming gluttonous destruction.


    "Ah¡­ That''s a bit harsh, don''t you think, my little Vily?" To his left, splayed with little clothing to cover her body from wandering eyes, the pointy-eared woman said with a slight pout.


    "A little tour and field experiments in my personal collection would have sufficed. Umm..." She added with a gleeful giggle while trailing her hand down her exposed flesh, one of her fingers cutting thinly through the layer of her rosy, glimmering skin as she barely kept a moan from escaping her supple red lips.


    "Heavily debatable to have worthy results, Lhilitu. I''m against it." Another voice exclaimed from the side to the Consort of the Void. The tone was young, as was the owner''s appearance¡ªa woman appearing even younger than the Cardinal Gospel with charcoal black hair and eyes. Yet again, it was nothing more than a fraud. Changing one''s appearance was available to even the lowliest Aeldari.


    She was sitting cross-legged on the carpet and using psychic light to build an impossibly complex structure, another discrete of the Dark City, thousands upon thousands of interconnected layers, with an equal quantity of blockages, ladders, stairs, and traps contained within.


    A distended smile formed on her demure feature at countless earlier-mentioned traps. The subsequent defenses and their functions only widened it. However, there was far more in how her creation interacted with the Webways.


    She was Ynesth, the Dark Lady of Ash, the creator of the Dark City, and so much more, all more twisted than the last.


    "I concur with the bonesinger. I''m not blind, and the Mon''Keigh will not be played with until trapped, poisoned, and paralyzed. Clearly, they are¡­ resourceful little pests." Shaimesh added cooly from his position. A holographic tablet was in his hands as he fiddled with it, simulating an entire laboratory beyond the realm of understanding of any living race.


    "Muuu¡­ Numerical advantages! No fai-ah!" Lhilitu complained and, to soothe her grievance, she dug her sharp fingernails into her skin to the muscle layer and more not afraid to get to the bottom; while this happened, her remaining hand moved down her navel.


    The entire scene of her playing with her insides, both metaphorically and literally, left the audience present palpably unmoved by her immense frustration and delight at being ignored and disregarded as if she were a vulgar piece of trash. As long as the sofa wasn''t tainted too much, the master of the room would let her do as she pleased, whatever expression of lust it might be.


    "Hm. Oh, and what of the injuries from the exposure to activated Blackstone Pillars?" Shaimesh asked as if an epiphany hit him, "Qa''leh would certainly be impeded from her functions for a number of cycles. I volunteer to assist in her recovery. The damage brought by such a unique construct would prove enlightening. May I?"


    There were a few seconds of silence where the only sounds were the ecstatic moans of pain and pleasure from the Consort of the Void and that of Vileth sipping his delectable beverage.


    "You will, but not in your lonesome." The strongest Dark Muse informed, warping his empty glass away, which attracted the intention of all.


    "A new face?" Lhilitu questioned curiously, her tone in dramatic opposition to her present actions of extreme self-indulgence.


    "Who would it be? There are few worthy but enough to blur the lines¡­" Ynesth added, her mind visualizing the potential candidate and ending on one likely possibility given the context. He would indeed be worthy from his mind alone, added to his feats and power, and it became a piece of evidence. Doubt remained, however.


    Shaimesh remained silent, neither showing joy nor displeasure.


    "You may enter Urien Rakarth." At this curt intonation, a thinly built Aeldari in a long trenchcoat of flesh with long black hair teleported in, his demeanor regal and respectful as he bowed deeply to each Dark Muse with a bright, enthusiastic smile, whether it was genuine or not, it was impossible to tell.


    "Greetings, it''s an honor for one such as me to be in your presence."


    ?????


    Fiddling with a divinely carved ring using my Avatar, I grinned widely.


    The six were gathered, well five if I''m to be exact, but that is one and the same with it being under a domain I control and monitor. It was mockingly easy to gather them, aside from this one, but I didn''t consider it an arduous task.


    My favorite bat had just put a bit of effort in testing himself and so where the others and for that eternal glory will befall them, but regardless. It was only the beginning of the war.


    "Hmm! What would you do with that little piece of jewelry, dear little brother?" A giggling voice said from behind, placing an elbow between my horn and snatching the ring from me.


    Cegorach¡­ Urg¡­ Then let''s play!


    Without fanfare, I summoned a portal below my feet and above the thief to land on his shoulder, taking my property back.


    "It''s a secret~!" I hummed, grabbing the left and right cap''n bells of his jester hat and him as my loyal steed.


    "Yeesss~! A secret, I understand. It''s part of your master plan, and I shall not inquire further!" The clown bellowed, and I rolled my eyes, snorting in amusement at his antics.


    How unpleasant and pleasant it was.


    "You appear to deeply appreciate your Avatar, brother. Or is my judgment amiss on the perceived value of your long overdue birthday present?" I noted, and he rapidly nodded, making sure to shake me as much as possible while at it. Cheeky shit.


    Anyway.


    His Avatar had been done shortly after obtaining the artifacts; their power infused in the body puppet through a short incantation, and it was done.


    Remarkably unchallenging.


    For entities such as us, creating Avatars would be highly complex. Still, we were created with that functionality, the frog bitch had many faults, but her competencies in the creations of life were and are unparalleled.


    "Very much so. The craftsmanship and power pale to what I used in the past, but being free if only by proxy outshine any quantity of power." Cegorach seriously explained.


    "Freedom. If only bringing you over would be without opening the gate to an unstoppable rampage." I remarked, fully agreeing on his first point.


    "Alas, that is the card we are to play with!" He brought his arms up in a flamboyant display.


    "Speaking of, what would you say of a short visit to the world inhabited by creatures that once upon a time I was?"


    The answer was positive, and I only grinned harder, the smile positively inhuman in every aspect.

 42. Godly Bet

    Astatlan was an interesting city born in the northwestern region of what in another universe or maybe the future would be Mexico, and it had been founded a scant few centuries after the fall of Shambhala; it was no mere coincidence.


    Four other strange cities of magical grandeur and miracles existed around Earth. Four, it wasn''t a random number; it was the result of the divisive choice of four siblings, two brothers, and two sisters, who have caused the fall of the original city, the heart of humanity, and now these four are carving their little empires across the globe.


    Astatlan was one of such empires and was currently at war with another; this last one, however, was not earthbound and was an artificial island built around a triangular formation, creating storm and illusion¡ªthe Bermuda Triangle. My involvement is not to be questioned. I liked my itty bitty easter eggs here and there to mess with future archeologists.


    As such, the battles were at the breaking point of the coast and a vast plain, none winning over the others and the victory at the end mattering little. Neither used this land to any extent beyond spilling their blood and entrails like a macabre canvas.


    And this was one of the battles of this war we were observing from an elevated rock, Cegorach and I eating snacks as we studied the mortals killing one another for the family drama of their egomaniac overlords family feud.


    A vendetta between the Godking of Atlantis, Atlan, and Nahua, the Eternal Empress of Aztl¨¢n, lofty titles for the two of them, but I digress. This entire charade was nothing more than a soup of asinine stupidity.


    No matter how competent as rulers, the two were, and they were. Both of their territories were utopia, but alas, peace was such a complex concept to grasp when emotions were high, explosive, and fiery for centuries on end. Stubbornness and pride were no more than oil on the fire.


    And I wasn''t one to force my will upon them, though admittedly it wasn''t of a virtuous feeling to let them free to murder one another as they pleased, but that I gained in that.


    "Planet-bound sophonts are such entertaining critters. They dance and dance, sing melodies of death and lust, violence without end, rhyme, and reason~! Ah, how tragic¡­ How poetic is it not, Hoopa~?" My brother noted, and I nodded, throwing the bone of a fried chicken at the battlefield, the little thing bouncing up and down, collecting the souls that were due to me.


    "Indeed, but they differ naught to the ones adventuring the star¡­. However, humans have one thing: they can be particularly spiteful and hateful to what they deem dangerous or undesired to a degree inconceivable for many and that across generations, nay entire civilization. And that no matter their creed, sex, and origin." I said, frowning in disappointment at the failed spell from one who swore her soul to me. The spellwork that should have turned five dozen into meat ribbons had backfired, inverting her skin around her head, from face to scalp.


    The sensation this would give was evident, as was her reaction.


    She was confused, then panicked and screamed, and screamed harder to the heavens. Then she keeled over instead of following the necessary protocol in case of non-fatal failed casting. It would have reverted the damage, but alas, she didn''t train enough, got greedy, fat, and arrogant, and now she was rolling in the bloodied, grim-filled battlefield soil with her muscles bare to the world.


    Wide, lidless eyes gazed in agonizing despair for any way out until an enchanted spear flew through one of them. This gory, non-consensual act of perforation freed her from the mortal coil of her flesh. And this was one fraction of the human meat grinder unfolding before us.


    It was a grim spectacle I hardly found myself moved by.


    I gave them knowledge, guidelines, and power, and what they do until Death meets them is none of my immediate concern and, beyond exceptional cases, nothing for me to intervene in directly. I can''t completely go against my nature, after all.


    My teaching was centered on the understanding of knowledge, and the knowledge of understanding, if they follow my words or comprehend them, is entirely up to them.


    I would have preferred it to be a pacifist organization, but what they were doing worked, too. Potential psychological problems for the final result were counted from the beginning and countered by thousands of runic systems.


    I never lied; the contracts were concisely explained without tricks or loopholes.


    "I can see that the extinction of the oldest of old is a bloody proof." He remarked. In response to the snark, I rolled my eyes; it was all good fun if I could put it that way. Unlike the others, he wasn''t opposed to what I did back then; the conditioning affected him, but his divinities protected him as both aspects clashed together.


    It wasn''t that he didn''t have his heavy criticism of my past actions, the thoroughness of it with everyone, no matter of age and responsibilities killed, but it wasn''t personal.


    Unlike Khaine, for example, for him, I think it''s more on the betrayal of trust than the genocide of our masters itself. Bah, what do I know? He is the most mentally unstable of us all from the beginning and not the good or fun kind.


    From what I was told, he killed the first Aeldar for no reason aside from Eldanesh, said the first one''s name, that he was an annoyance and a tool of Asuryan to show his superiority. At least if what I glimpsed in my study of my at the time new godly family was correct.


    There were more on Khaine that spoke volumes of his bellicose nature and tendency to fuck things up, but I wasn''t much one to put myself at the moral high ground in the equation. Still, the destruction of our brotherly relationship wasn''t a loss for me emotionally, though what he did would be met with heavy punishment.


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    But it spoke volumes of what might have become of us when the war ended. We were tools, weapons of mass destruction of galactic scales, and temporary instabilities with psychological quirks were supposed to be of no problem. We would have been ''fixed'' to be ''right'' and ''taken care of''.


    "Indeed, one of the last aspects of what I once was still carried to my new existence, ''Mother,'' couldn''t get rid of such an intricate aspect of my being." I spat. Even to this day, orally speaking of the frog bitch in any way aside from Mother was impossible. Stopping doing so was akin to a non-modified human stopping to breathe forever. It was how intricate she made it so to my being.


    "Quite the fearsome expression of emotions, if extreme and dangerous for oneself and others. It''s¡­ fascinating." He added, pointing at two men biting and clawing at one another to death on the edge of the battlefield like they were rabid animals instead of respected warriors who trained from childhood.


    Their entire life, from the first flicker of awareness in their mothers'' womb to their first loves, and the present was bare for us to see, all unraveled with a glance. Two were certain that their cause was just and correct as they destroyed themselves and all in the general vicinity for their ideal.


    "Humanity''s greatest strength." I chuckled, but I was deadly serious on the matter, "And weakness, the inability to let go of a grudge and or ideal and expand upon it endlessly to the point it transcends death."


    "Momo had hinted that a decaying golden empire led by reckless destruction and pyrrhic victory cursed to a slow but ultimate end. I see how none of her wording was deceitful, marvelous little critters." Cegorach let out, and I raised an eyebrow, right Morai-Heg loved to spout random shits wherever it pleased her, but I knew what he was talking about.


    The Imperium, if memory serves me right, but it wasn''t for now yet an actual show of what humans would do when pushed to the extreme. Not as cruel, intelligent, gifted, powerful, or imaginative as Aeldari and Necron, but oh so capable of destroying all out of pure spite.


    A last ultimate fuck you and all the sardonic pleasure that went with it.


    If that wasn''t one of the essence of Humanity itself in this Universe, then I didn''t know what it was.


    "Only she, my little cyclops, and the impostor knew the inklings of reality in the boundless possible futures." I shook my head. How annoying such individuals were, the future was a facet of reality that should always remain in the dark. What was the point of a journey if all the magic was taken away?


    "But hate isn''t the only substance humans excel in; alas, this period of time is not prone for what I remember of the period I had lived." I laid out, creating a blurry illusion of a city I didn''t remember the name of, with a prominent metallic spire standing above all other buildings. Then it switched to a small, flat metallic box with a screen and blurry images and video passing by, and more imagery followed from cities, villages, and landscapes.


    "What was that luminescent handheld primitive device? It''s unique¡­" He inquired, and I blinked¡­ Hm, yes, this might pick his interest more than random and incomplete architecture.


    "A smartphone. A miniature physic-based computer fitted with a tactile screen and a library of neat functions can connect through certain frequencies and exchange information between other such devices. Ah! Yes, there was another aspect that you should find appealing: the Internet." The lights show changed to represent what I reminisced about the World Wide Web.


    "Go on, little brother, what matter of concept could these creatures of the like have created to impress me, the Great Harlequin and legendary God of Trickery! Hehehe~! Go on!" The clown pressed on, hunching over the smaller frame of my Avatar, a metallic limb snaking around my shoulder.


    "Then listen, brother! It''s not the concept itself but the culture surrounding it. It''s a construct giving the user the possibility to exchange-"


    I proceeded to explain what it was, how it worked, and the juicy parts, the social media and subculture within with their rules. The point that took his entire focus was the memes. A concept he fell in love with immediately and demanded me to open a portal back to Yuggoth.


    His flamboyant declaration:


    "It''s per my divine duty and with my immeasurable magnitude to grace our noble adept with the immaculate wisdom of this unique creation!"


    If that was a grave mistake on my part¡­ I didn''t know, and it would likely concern the poor mortals. My insincere condolences to them. However, it left me alone, not for long, luckily, as Ollanius had been tasked to shape a region within the coast of the Mediterranean Sea for my project, and I don''t think he would reject my verbal assistance.


    ''He can try¡­'' I internally chuckled, teleporting myself to some mischief.


    Though microsecond before this, I side-eyed the two human leaders of each faction taking off to murder one another joyfully. Today wasn''t parallel to the hundreds of battles before, and one would win, and it was neither of the humans in this pointless war.


    ?????


    Deep within the verdant of a primeval forest beyond the age of many sapient species was sitting on a chair of flowering vines, a creature of immense beauty. A flowing robe adorned her body while elegant butterfly wings of countless ever-changing lights adorned her back.


    Her eyebrows, in a similar fashion breaking the normalcy of Aeldari, were two long feathery quills reaching beyond the range of her wild yet meticulously arranged hair. Her eyes glowed an intense golden amber as tears rolled down her cheeks to vanish into starlight.


    This was Isha, her Avatar to be exact, and as it was not from a fragment of her true self, an alternate representation of her body. A caricature, some would say, but she wasn''t one of them; this was a present from her children, and she dearly cherished it.


    Yet her expression was conflicted, not from her tears. It was deeper. Joy and relief, she knew it was these emotions she should feel. Freedom was coming¡­ freedom from eons of enforced isolation to save the little ones lost in their unpleasant ways. A dimensional gate was being built now that there was a connection between the two realms.


    It was a meticulous and delicate process but one that would bear fruit. Until then, there was not much that could be done.


    But at what price? The choice to take the chance given by the Traitor, the Original Sin, Hoopa, was one not to be taken lightly, but it was one of grieving desperation.


    Asuryan was unwell, unable to emit the radiance he once did, be it of mind, body, and soul. He was no more than a flickering ember in will and wisdom, a shadow of what he once was.


    Khaine was as dangerous as he was predictable; death would follow if assistance were asked of him. More so with their alliance with Hoopa. His Consort, Morai-Heg, was opposite in her operation yet no better, impossible to read and anticipate, and the one able to shatter it all with a single whisper.


    Vaul was under the flaming twin control, one bound by the fiery chain of slavery and the second by honor and unbreakable loyalty. His help was nothing more than a dream


    But it was the fate of her daughter that worried her the most, caught in this deathly labyrinth of uncertain destruction. She didn''t know if her decision was the right one. One mistake and death would be the least of her concerns.


    It was a time of doubt even for the Gods, and as the Fall approached, it grew and grew like a cancerous tumor.


    "Warm layered sunlight tea accompanied by its special creamy flavoring for you, my eternal love." A soft baritone voice startled her as a wild-looking, muscular, bipedal creature on hooves appeared behind her from the grass, a gentle smile on his features as vines growing from his antler partially hid it.


    "Ah, a thousand thanks, my world. ''twas what I needed in those times of great incoming calamities." The Avatar of the Aeldari Goddess of Love exclaimed gracefully as she daintily grasped the masterfully crafted cup in her hand, but not after kissing the lips of her husband''s Avatar.


    "You are most welcome." Kurnous hummed, shifting his position in an all-encompassing protective embrace that seemingly was impossibly unrestrictive to his mate. There was a pleasant silence until the Lord of the Beasts broke it with an accepting sigh.


    "I feel your uncertainties, Isha, but an unchangeable path has been taken when we vowed to follow our foolish brother''s schemes. We are trapped in a gilded cage of our creation and shall make do with the opportunities given, blessed and cursed, right and wrong." His words were not ones of comfort. If they were, they would be deceitful.


    It was a risk they had taken, but one that was necessary, and for that, comfort and serenity needed to be gone for their daughter and children''s well-being. It was a bet they had taken, a godly bet with equal implications in its result, good and bad.


    "Yes¡­ That is the truth, Kurnous. But I worry regardless." She lamented as she let herself fall in his tender embrace, the cup kept from spilling by a root.


    "Me too, my love, but what is done is done." He agreed, and then the gloomy ambiance was suddenly shattered by the mad cackling of a certain clown on his way to put plans into action. Behind him, a scintillating trail was left in the sky. It parted the clouds and turned what remained into dancing white puffy animals.

 43. Atrium of Kadath

    Trazyn the Infinite had experienced the most confusing time of his eternal existence. A feat he did not know was possible yet proven wrong at every instant of his daily unlife.


    Such as his new station directly under the Archdjinni of the Rings, one that was extremely shocking when he learned of it, yet one most fitting, the Grand Treasurer of the Vault. Fundamentally, it was a similar position to what he had been working on for the past eons, but in a government.


    It was surprising the immense trust placed upon him, and Trazyn would have called the Fallen God na¨¬ve if not for not knowing better. Terror and dread would be a more adequate description of his sentiment.


    He was understood in his totality; every secret he may have kept in the dark recess of his soulless existence was bare to Hoopa. The Aeldari God knew what he would do, how he would do it, and the reasons behind it with every path possible.


    It was terrifying and not unlike what he had experienced in the far past, but to say these two scenarios were the same would be a lie.


    It was why he was nominated Grand Treasurer of the Vault, a realm where riches and artifacts existed boundlessly, but these were negligible compared to what he was not in lack of such but compared to what resided in the Vault¡­


    It was¡­


    The source of his fear, even if he would never assume its existence, and that of the Infinite Empire, the cause and reason the Devil was seen as the manifestation of death, doom, and annihilation. The fear here was born of what the Archdjinni of the Rings represented and not the horror the Aeldari God would make him persist through for little purpose other than temporary amusement as countless C''tan would.


    It was here that the Aeldari God of Magic''s prize of war was stored and put into display for all to gaze upon and wonder.


    Prizes that encapsulated being capable of enslaving civilization and shattering galaxies that there were no more than mere decoration, be they in fragments or complete. And these beings were C''tan, the ones whom the Necrontyr believed, trusted with their flesh and soul to be then betrayed into eternal stillness servitude.


    It wasn''t indistinguishable from what they, the Necron, had done; after all, Solemnace''s central power source was a large shard of such a creature. But that was when the similarities ended; the fits involved in obtaining that result were of dramatically different realms.


    One was through the uses of weariness, trickery, and planning after an endless war of attrition of which they had lost and fled, humiliated and shattered. The other was of infants played with to death by a predator. The C''tan had been the infants, mind-breakingly insane as it seemed to consider for the faintest of instants.


    The most vile, revolting, and mightiest of them all was the first to have not only been bested but killed, deleted from the Universe, his primordial essence and conceptual existence turned back to the eternal beginning and ending. And that on this abominable predator''s first moment of life.


    Now, only an echo of the Nightbringer, Aza''gorod, remained, and it was his nameless weapon. An immaculate scythe of necrodermis capable of cutting through all that was, is, and would be, which the single sight of was enough to draw mortals into the deepest abyss of despair.


    Here, it was put on a black pedestal gilded with gold on an equal level of scrolls, books, and similarly purposed medium. But these mediums were not concealing within them divine arcane knowledge and forbidden teaching for godly and demonic apotheosis. No, these were different¡­ Far different in a way, not even the most twisted layers of the Immaterium could ever hope to rival.


    These recounted the methods and ingredients to cook pastries, sweets, and other inferior forms of nutrients. Mundane food items, naught were special or explored the arcane. It was a mystery why their presence was here.


    And this was not a mismanagement of the Vault. The idea was heretical in and of itself. It was intentional organization, purposeful even as were the placements of every item in this starless dimension of endless coffers.


    The last fragment of the Nightbringer was of equal value to snacking recipes in the Devil''s design, or was it? None could tell, and none would dare to question it.


    Unknown to Trazyn, it wasn''t an insult or an act of mockery or domination toward a defeated foe but praise, and a high one for Hoopa deemed such food implement vital.


    Alas, this was known by only a select few the Overlord wasn''t part of, and so dread was what he felt at this exceptionally puzzling display.


    And the wards protecting them were beyond that of the minute number of complete if varyingly maimed C''tan held in captivity under this level.


    C''tan, of which the majority were periodically tortured through techniques out of Trazyn''s understanding, but he was confident they all eclipsed even the darkest demented desire the Dark Muses'' depraved souls could ever dream to conceptualize. It was an interesting thought exercise all on its own.


    He found himself hardly emphasizing those Star devouring monsters'' fate. And those actions were purely to collect data, or so he was told by the dark maestro of the orchestra himself. A half-truth the Necron would bet plenty on it.


    Still, that made him, a Necron whose visceral hate for the Star Gods was unrivaled, consider how these same Star Gods may be going through as miniscule as it was in actuality¡­ It was enough to draw a certain perspective, if it was positive or negative, that he couldn''t tell.


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    But it proved that Hoopa hadn''t changed from the War in Heaven and what a terrific prospect it was. Betrayal would not end well; that much was clear. Ironic and hypocritical given the history of the Devil, but who was he to judge?


    Regardless¡­


    All these apprehensions weren''t obstacles to what was offered upon the eerily unrestrictive contract he signed.


    A contract that had cost him a strange ring, several divine artifacts, and several precious items of his collection, but it was a fair trade. In exchange, protection was provided, the word of Hoopa given to him personally, and much more, such as one of the highest political positions within the Ark of Life as he was the Grand Treasurer of the Vault.


    With this came an array of benefits, the authorization to use the Golden Gates at the head of it.


    However, there were constraints, an obligation to abide by the rules of his new master, and that meant from then on, sapient beings needed to be under a list of conditions to be added. Luckily, this exclusively applied to the future, and objects not under allies'' jurisdiction were free for him to keep safe in the Vault, the weight put on ''keep.''


    In addition, Solemnace, after heavy modifications and repair, was displaced to the heart of the Vault, becoming an integral part of it. He was even promised a soul and a biological body blessed with health and immortality if he was loyal and competent; the validity of this claim was yet to be seen. And the uses of such a gift were taken similarly, yet he was hopeful. Life, creativity, and sensation had been dearly missed, and the memories that they ever were part of him were foggy at best.


    But it was far from the most mind-boggling aspect of his new position, and it was what one expects with a new master. It was precisely because of the new environment relating to his position, the Ark of Life. It was a strange society centered on theology and meritocracy, homogenizing worship and progress.


    An environment where prey and predators lived in harmony accompanied by a plethora of sophonts species, then the little few of his kind. It was an alliance bypassing any and all limitations.


    If in the past he had been told that, he would have openly laughed and ordered whoever told this fairytale to be promoted in that department to become his personal jester. But it was not fiction, the danger of this reality remaining unknown.


    And the word danger was the appropriate term. The Overlord knew he wasn''t irreplaceable and was deeply aware of where he couldn''t and could push or if he should. He was many things, but foolish wasn''t one of them.


    ''What matter of bundled utter insanity did I tie myself into? And all because of these knife-eared shitstains, oh and that malfunctioning cyclopean little fu-'' Trazyn swore internally. At the same time, his gait and body language remained unchanged as he continued his quick advance through the road of carved stone leading to the blackened peak of Mount Hatheg-Kla.


    One of the highest mountains of Yuggoth, the Moving World, the fact he was here, in the birth planet of the Old Ones, was only another chip to his damaged psyche. Yuggoth¡­ and him, a Necron Overlord walking upon its sacred ground freely, how exciting it should be, so much secret to unfold and save from the damage of time, and yet excitement was far from what he felt.


    More so as in front of walked, no, strutted, an Aeldari, Eldrenich, the Autarch of Altansar and Head of the Aeldari Circle composed of fellow Autarchs and positions of equal power from further Maiden Worlds.


    Their population, like vermin in perpetual rut and heat, never stopped increasing thanks to the bloody effort of the Empire to worsen its relation with these fringe branches of their population through relentless harassment or straight-up unprovoked attacks. The five gods above this all only accelerated the process of recruitment for the followers of the old ways.


    "What do you require of my esteemed person, Grand Treasurer? Your focus is¡­ intense." The Aeldari asked patiently, his pace unchanged, his smooth voice void of any heat, far from friendly but polite and considerate.


    "An opinion¡­" Trazyn began, unsure where to go after. He was caught off guard by the sudden question, but improvising wasn''t a foreign concept, "What is your impression of Lord Hoopa''s domain, the one we were given blessed integument within its walls?"


    There was a pregnant silence for a dozen drawn-out seconds of marching until Eldrenich spoke. This time, passion and zealotry were in his voice.


    "My boorish vocabulary is unfit to convey how sumptuous and magnificent-" And Trazyn mentally blocked the rest, turning on a recording implant to respond automatically to the blabbering from the knife ears.


    It wasn''t surprising, and it was a grounded answer compared to what he usually heard. The Aeldari were pious, extremely pious, without exception. They reigned these sentiments, but when asked, they slipped almost without fail. It was quite amusing in the ancient Necron opinion.


    "We have reached our destination, Autarch of Altansar." Trazyn curtly informed Eldrenich, and the rambling ended. In front of them was a heavy set door of Blackstone positively brimming with psychic power.


    This was the entrance to the Atrium of Kadath, a room only accessible by following a certain path only preemptively blessed individuals could; it was impossible otherwise to come here unless one wished to be lost and never find a way out of this mountain.


    Grandeur and theatrical aside, a meeting room was what it was. And as the double door silently opened inward, Trazyn appreciated the immense beauty of what lay inside. A coliseum of prismatic crystal, etched on their every surface were countless mystical runes and glyphs as a seemingly endless yet numbered amount of chairs existed yet not in a circular formation where a podium facing all the phantom audience at once grew.


    The ceiling was an evermoving map of the Warp in all its chaotic and horrific beauty. It was a simple illusion of an imperfect representation yet enough to lose any sense of time while gazing at its depthless abyss. Below, like an ornate chandelier where the lights were stars, was a four-dimensional map of the Milky Way, spinning on itself thanks to the forces of Realspace bringing order and stability to the totalitarian bedlam above.


    This art piece, divinely beautiful and technically impressive as it may be, rivaling and beating the likes of the Celestial Orrery in certain domains, was far from the only one in this chamber. Five picturesque statues reaching the high ceiling representing Hoopa, Isha, Cegorach, Kurnous, and Lileath were present at equal distances, with the first facing the entrance of Hoopa and then downward in power from the right to the left where it ended.


    The architecture aside, people were seated, species leaders and influential figures of the Ark of Life, both in most cases, Trazyn optics passed briefly over them, the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Laer, the Engineer Sage of the Joakaero, the High Chieftain of the Kroot and much more from the alliance of species.


    None had equal influence as it was based on merit and worth, yet all could communicate equally. However, the philosophy of meritocracy forced the members to be actively of value or working toward that goal to have any tangible political sway.


    His gaze went on the ones seated until it stopped on Orikan, who noticed, and both glowered at one another until a certain Khrave made his presence known, Majun, the Archdeacon of the Dark Coven and the highest authority below the gods themselves.


    Khrave were bizarre creatures, Trazyn had thought and continued to as he took his seat at the opposite of his despised one-eyed nemesis and only Necron present that wasn''t him. They reminded him of what he once was, a Necrontyr, a people cursed by their unfortunate biology.


    He wasn''t sympathizing, but it was an entertaining thought to be aware that at any instant, a Khrave could snap and drain the souls of fellow civilians if hungry. If no emotional source were present, they would rapidly dwindle until death claimed them.


    Their ability to shapeshift and innate psychic potential added to their strangeness and to think they were originally going to be a casualty of war. Their point in common with Neverborn was uncanny.


    "Greetings and welcome everyone to the Atrium of Kadath on this esteemed day for the reflection of our fate in those sacred lieux!" Majun exclaimed, spreading his upper arms from the podium, the non-euclidean nature of its mechanisms letting the watchers from everywhere in the large room see and hear the old Khrave as if he was facing them¡ªan anteriorly woven spell translating his words.


    "Let''s start with our ending point of the last meeting, the Krork rebirth and integration. Has any progress with the sample from Trazyn''s generous gift been made?" Majun asked with a gentle smile on his shifted feature to appear ''cute'' and ''cuddly,'' an interesting trick of his predatory facade that worked really well to fool any in the unknown of his real visage.


    The first to respond was a young Aeldari woman dressed in a gilded robe, her long silvery hair tied in a top knot that emphasized her tiara showing her position as the High Priestess of Lileath, "I''m pleased to be the bearer of good news, Archdeacon Majun-"


    And this was the Atrium of Kadath soon to be furnished with new, greener members not observed in the last fifty-nine million years.

 44. The New Man

    There never was a moment from the first instance of awareness where the boy who would be king denied his differences from the norm that composed humans in body, mind, and soul came into existence.


    From his first instant of awareness in the womb of his biological mother to his birth and following growth, these aspects setting apart from the village and traveling merchants were a constant, an ever-growing constant in the form of an expanding ravine leading to the abyss of the end of time.


    It was an irrevocable facet of his reality.


    His mind was different, knowledge of concepts, designs, and theories impossible to fathom, for even the wisest of elders were by the thousands within his mind, from the humble yet marvelous techniques to improve the yield of crops to strategies of war and politics.


    But any of these palled at the knowledge relating to the rules of reality, how the Sun rose, how its rays generated heat granters of bountiful harvest and drought, to the very foundation of matter and his place in the universe. Mathematics, geology, biology, astronomy, engineering, and that was only a brief surface-level list of a vast, if immensely incomplete, compendium where the more was known, the more one realized how little was known.


    Then came the understanding that breaking and bending these same rules in the way talented hands would mold clay to fit the artisan view of what must be. But there was so much more than changing the world with his will. Sensing emotion, reading thought, seeing what was to be before it was to be. And, like reality, this magic was equally vast.


    All of it, the boy understood. Detached memories of people he knew on and yet not firing through his brain, handily gifting knowledge, experience, and philosophy of thousands of flavor, value, and range but never more. They were his, yet not separated from his existence but an integral part of who, what, and how he was.


    Then came his body. The boy did not possess strength far beyond mortals, nor was he impervious to physical harm or possessed an allure capable of enchanting men and women alike at a mere glance.


    No, his body didn''t stand for its appearance or capabilities beyond that of a perfectly calibrated metabolism; he considered himself adequate in either, but it wasn''t anything anyone could defeat if luck and effort were poured in. No, what was different was his body''s elusiveness to the concept of death itself.


    Injuries would heal no matter their depth, and the blood spilled. Diseases and ailments would suffer the consequences of being in his presence and wither away; a similar fate was for parasites. He had done extensive testing.


    And this was proven yet again as the cold bronze blade of a long knife was mercilessly buried in his chest, spearing his heart, tearing the delicate organ of life from the auricle to the aorta, leading to death most swiftly. Or so it should have come from this traitorous strike, but it was absent, inexistent, as he emotionlessly gazed back toward the one to have stabbed, his uncle.


    The boy that would be king''s brown eyes of depth incomprehensible to his audience stared into the soul of his only remaining blood-related family whose wrathful and satisfied expression on a vile visage grew uglier. It was striking in its sheer unpleasantness, a hideous face able to be used as a stable data source for a thesis on this subject for centuries to come.


    It turned to confusion as no scream or reaction was drawn from the boy that would be king, then anger at this show of defiance, realization, and despair arrived hand in hand as the older man felt a strong, youthful hand grasp his thin arm. Then the stabbed boy, slowly pushing the blade deeper as he took one step forward, then two, then three until they were face to face.


    His visage was unflinching, as unending as the blood pouring from the would-be fatal wound. He felt the pain but perceived it for what it was: a packet of information telling of damage brought to his flesh. It was a mere stimulus, not enough to warrant any reaction. Others seemed so engaged at the smallest of injuries¡ªanother puzzle.


    "Why?" The boy asked this simple question with a curious tilt of his head, followed by two others as he advanced, the blade tearing through the fabric at the back of his tattered shirt on the other side, "What is the purpose of such an action, uncle? Where did your machinations lead you to believe that killing my father would end?"


    To put emphasis, the boy lifted a skull of pure white taken from the leather pouch around his waist, the skull of a man that had been killed in one strike of a hoe to the back of the head from the shape of the damage.


    This wasn''t any skull the boy had brought, and the boy''s uncle was aware of who the owner once was: his blood, his brother. A skull the boy had taken care of cleaning and preserving.


    "Ab-abomination!" The older man screamed desperately, trying to escape the iron grip of the boy, unable to comprehend how he couldn''t run away or why his nephew was alive.


    "I do not understand. Could you explain it to me?" The boy stated cooly, his eyes glinting with calm interest as he heard the mental wail of anguish from his uncle. He listened attentively yet couldn''t comprehend. A common occurrence among his scarce interactions with the villagers, it was frustrating.


    Psychology didn''t answer why one would act in such ways. It explained the possibilities, but that hardly could be taken as a sensible answer as to why one would act in such a way as the present scenario. Why would his biological uncle murder his biological father? What was the purpose of such an action? What was the goal? What did this man believe would have happened? And why did it displease him?


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    He understood humans'' unbound potential for greatness, and yet, why must they act in such ways? He couldn''t understand why one would go against the fundamental principles of logic and rationality, the basis of survival, the foundation of community, and individual self-preservation.


    It was inadequate. It was unnecessary. It was hazardous. It was unworthy. Yet it was what made humans beautiful, these imperfections he couldn''t reach, feel, and experience to their fullest. However, it didn''t mean these aspects weren''t problematic.


    And so the boy reached a conclusion; with a disinterested gaze, he made his judgment. A heart stopped as another regenerated from its poor state while he calmly walked away. The blood on his body was fresh. His steps were unperturbed by the whimpering and cowering crowd as he put the skull back in his leather pouch and advanced toward the horizon, where the mountains swallowed the Sun.


    His expression shifted to shock for the briefest of instants as a tall, muscular man of dark complexion appeared before him.


    The man had groomed wavy black hair, as was his well-trimmed beard, both adorned in ornaments of bones and gold harmonized to his elegant yet simple clothing left open around his chest to show a symbol darker than any starless night, light itself seemingly upon contact.


    It depicted a snake curling two times on itself, forming two circles connected beginning and ending by the legless reptile biting its tail.


    The symbol of infinity, the Ouroboros, the boy recognized, one that until now he only knew as theoretically possible but impossible to put into practice. The latter part was visibly erroneous. It was a symbol of many meanings emanating a dark presence stirring a thousand threads within his soul to learn and explore the meaning of such a concept.


    He was a man which the boy couldn''t read the mind of, to his surprise, a man which he instinctively understood he shouldn''t be hostile to, with the only option if a fight were to break out was to escape. Within his vision, any of his attacks would end in eternal darkness and a devouring shadow. His golden light would be unable to fight off the abyss. Any future was impossible to read; as such, the boy deemed it wiser to avoid conflict when victory wasn''t assured.


    While wariness was necessary, this was a man who didn''t desire harm toward his person, that much the boy could tell even if he never foresaw his coming. He found this man disturbingly familiar, but further recollection proved unrewarding. It was confusing.


    What could be reasoned, however, was that this was a man in possession and able to give possible answers to his many questions. Ally or enemy, establishing diplomacy became of utmost importance.


    "Who are you?" He neutrally inquired, fearlessly approaching the man.


    "I''m known by more names and titles than I care to remember, young one, but if it''s a singular word you desire¡­ You can call me Oll, and you, what is your name?" Oll asked mirthfully, with an alien tone, for the boy to be addressed.


    As for a name¡­ A name was many things, from a simple denominator to the essence of oneself, a True Name, an intrinsic part of him he instinctively understood. It was the core of his existence, and any who learned of it knew how to use it; they would subdue him to their every whim.


    For the mundane, it was of little importance, however. But the question didn''t seem mundane, and the name asked was walking the thin line between the two.


    Regardless, he answered by coming up with a suitable name. One he couldn''t realize the irony of.


    "Enkidu."


    ?????


    "Ah¡­ His journey finally began." I hummed through the mouth of my second Avatar, elation flowing in my system at what it entailed for the future of the Milky Way. All on the shoulder of a human teenager. It wasn''t my only option for freedom, while my prison would eventually shatter. I had waited enough, and the Flask of Sealing destruction would have been temporary.


    Fucking frog bitch.


    ''If only this rising curve were omnipresent.'' All the joy vanished with that thought. If I were to put it mildly, the war wasn''t going well. Oh, we weren''t losing per se, but we weren''t winning either. At this instant, my first Avatar, Danxama, was succeeding in assisting a Maiden World under the name of Ulthw¨¨ to Warp away by fending off undesired Aeldari with the assistance of my little bats.


    But these types of battles were few and far between. The Aeldari Empire was larger and positively stronger than the Infinite Empire of the Necron without the Star Gods, as well as far older and more developed.


    My Avatars and those of my siblings and niece with exceptional individuals like little Majun were resources we had in scarce quantities. We couldn''t risk losing them, particularly my Avatars, as my rings were part of their components. Losing them would be¡­ disastrous. And the Dark Muses knew these weaknesses -somehow knowing about the rings used as conductors in my Avatars, likely Tzeentch- and exploited them.


    The recent addition of the Krork in the Ark of Life ranks alleviated this, but that was hardly enough. It was harsh, but if they didn''t suffice with the Necron, they wouldn''t grant us instant victory against their past exterminator. The bulk of Krork weren''t that fundamentally physically stronger than Ork. Well, they were to a substantial degree, but their intelligence and thought process was what truly differed.


    But weapons able to consume star systems weren''t a prized possession of our foe, and they weren''t shy about using them¡­ Little needed to be explained on how it ended, no matter how clever the Ork or Krork was.


    These tools of mass destruction could negate our advantages if they deemed a fight unwinnable. An Avatar could flip the rhythm of a battle, turning a tragic defeat into a flamboyant victory in a heartbeat. Yet one or three synthetic supermassive black holes would destroy the battle and its surroundings forever, and little but retreating could fight it off.


    In addition to that, there was the problem of mobility. The Golden Gates were physical portals tied to natural and artificial supports, be it in the Warp or Realspace; the latter was evidently favored but rapidly changing for the former for the following reasons.


    Their locations could be hidden from psychic and material means. Our foe might be arrogant, suicidal, petulant children unworthy of their legacies, but incompetent idiots ignoring the threat we represented they weren''t. And like the first time they tracked my diplomatic fleet, they were finding my gates in physical space, and we weren''t numerous and strong enough to maintain them when an all-out assault happened.


    All the while, they held sway over the majority of Labyrinthine Dimension. The comprehensive understanding and influences we had over it aided, but at best, it was a diversion when it came down to it since they weren''t lacking in that department either.


    With that in mind, the Golden Gates in the Warp was a less worse alternative. For all the horror they represented, Daemons were far easier to cull and ward off unless one of the Psychic Tumors focused on the gates; then, I would order its self-destruction protocol. However, other problems were tied to using the Warp, such as the relation between entry and exit points to the physical world. At the end of the day, it remained the optimal solution.


    The dimension of the C''tan had briefly been considered, but there were too many unknown variables and dangers involved. If the Silent King had been there, maybe more time would have been invested in that, possibly since Trazyn and Orilan spoke of a method to control their past enslavers to be in his, but the cunning royal automaton had fled the galaxy. I held great doubt on what ''control'' meant here; using one as a battery wasn''t the same as bending its mind.


    It wasn''t a fatality but a great annoyance.


    To say the least, our chances of succeeding in this crusade were in the negative, not that it was surprising or out of our expectations. Defeating and dismantling the Aeldari Empire had never been our goal.


    It was an impossible feat with our current state, as immensely displeasing as it was to admit.


    We were fighting to increase our number of followers and mortal allies to protect them from the Fall; it was an ark I was building, like the one from one of the religions I vaguely remembered with the flood. I didn''t lie; its purpose was to shelter its inhabitants, but I never told the full truth. It was a shield from the rest of existence until the sanitation of the galaxy reached completion.


    The problem was that the Dark Muses started to understand this strategy of ours, to gather species into our fold, that is. As such, they decided to target those staggeringly more than before. It wasn''t a harvest anymore. It was an extermination. But these heinous actions weren''t exclusively reserved for the ''Mon''Keighs.'' How much I despised the socio-cultural implications of this word.


    Any Aeldari diverging from their ideology were hunted down to be ''healed,'' the need for a body secondary. It was the beginning of a genocide of dissidents percentage of their population, simultaneously increasing our number but also reducing our growth potential in the long run.


    It was really aggravating. But that would not be for eternity¡­ When I free myself, the fate of the culprits won''t be pleasant. I will open their eyes to the true meaning of agony. I wasn''t as merciful as Isha nor as reasonable as Kurnous.


    But alas, I must wait, and until then, we must prepare.

 45. Broken King

    Atop a magnificent throne of solidified flame from the hottest stars was a massive armored figure; his skin was of fire-made flesh, and his eyes were composed of pure white suns. This being in the form vaguely reminiscent of a male Aeldari was one the most powerful to have ever existed, and yet his visage didn''t show the serenity and confidence such a being of his stature, dignity, and authority should have.


    The Aeldari God of Wisdom, Authority, and Fire, Asuryan, was not currently in a pleasant state of mind. It wasn''t new or recent. Since the sacrifice that later was discovered to be the well-crafted of Hoopa, their youngest members, had led to the violent and cruel annihilation of the Old Ones, nothing went the way it should have.


    It turned the absolute triumph of the War in Heaven into one that was only so on a surface level, for their foes of past eons had lost, but so did they. Plans and ingenious schemes built for the betterment of the Milky Ways by the blood, sweat, and tears of the greatest minds of the Great Old Ones of the Great Council were shattered beyond any shred of possibility to become a reality one day.


    The first should have been the purge and order of the Sea of Souls of its corruptive, chaotic psychic filth born from ceaseless battles, bloodshed, and destruction of the Star Gods and their endless tides of soulless metallic abomination against all that was.


    And the second should have been the process of healing the grievous wounds brought upon Realspace and the assistance of the mortal victims of the clash between powers beyond their comprehension to be replaced where it all should belong: their proper place and position for the future to be bright and clear, void of pointless destruction.


    All of this now was dust and an illusion of the past, all stemming from the irrational action of an arrogant, selfish, treacherous child unable to fathom the future beyond that of his own self. Asuryan wouldn''t claim to have ever been on good terms with the Fallen God. It was by the design of Mother Cthylla that their personality and divinities were heterogeneous and, through it, would have generated clashes and rivalry. It had been for higher motivation in the war and a variation of thought processes.


    A hive mind would not have been the adequate choice. It was predictable and unable to adapt its protocol swiftly while also weak to aliasing and the like. The prototypes and simulation of the Old Ones had proven their unworthiness to serve the grand cause.


    It was a wise, if risky, decision to avoid this type of like-mindedness, and it had worked. It even managed to calm down Khaine and diminish his innate aggressiveness and abrasiveness, preventing further incidents like Vaul''s near demise by the Bloody-Handed God''s god-slaying blade.


    Then Mother was murdered, and the connection she had with Asuryan as a whiplash exploded in his soul, causing immense grief¡­ How did it happen? The Phoenix King wasn''t sure; a third-party invasion by portals most likely would be Daemons, Necrons, or others but resilient to psychic powers. The result was the same: death. Who was the culprit from this was evident: the Archdjinni of the Rings.


    His death and the time frame to the genocide of their creators weren''t a mere coincidence, considering his extreme disapproval of the Old Ones and Cthylla in particular. An ample reason why he was a source of friction in the Pantheon was that he was vocal about it.


    An emotion that Asuryan had foolishly believed to have quieted down with time. How wrong was he, how much he regretted his past blindness to have thought for one instant his ''brother'' held a spark of reason. It had been false from the beginning.


    Hoopa had the task of maintaining the shields around Yuggoth, even in case of his possible defeat. As the Godking of the Aeldari Pantheon, Asuryan was aware of this less-known piece of information, and he was given the authority to open a portion of the upper shields if the worst came to pass to serve as a last line of defense.


    An authority that had been overruled, rendering it impossible to assist the Old Ones in their times of need, leading to the extinction of the greatest race, Gods above Gods. Wielder of knowledge above that of any other and wisdom of every last star in the Infinite cosmos. A tragedy and travesty of the highest order.


    It had broken a little of what could be called sanity within Khaine, beginning the first catastrophe of the coming eon. The First Divine Purge, it had been called, Hoopa had spread his dark influences far, wide, and deep, and the Aeldari God of War had culled them thoroughly.


    It shattered their children''s souls and the Young Races'' cohesiveness, forcing Asuryan to use his authority and isolate the Pantheon from Realspace unless the destruction of mortals was what he desired.


    What followed was the birth of the Aeldari Empire and where the shunning of all non-Aeldar began, unacceptable in many aspects but accurate all the same. It resulted in the devolution of the brave and honorable Krork into malformed, scarcely sentient creatures, the scattering of the Jokaero, and much more. An asinine and horrific social upheaval of never-seen proportion, be it in scale or impact.


    Then, later came the Second Divine Purge under Khaine''s will after his Consort''s mortifying revelation of their grim fate brought by their children''s degeneracy. The Bloody-Handed God took matters personally and decided to eliminate the Aeldari. He nearly succeeded a second time to be stopped again, thanks to Isha.


    She had pushed Asuryan through pleas to stop this senseless hail of death, blood, and viscera to wait. He agreed and as well didn''t want further bloodshed. He acquiesced to her desperate imploration for mercy, to his twin brother''s extreme disapproval, and knowing the latter would have disobeyed, he took equal measure.


    He used the Zenith Dominion to create a realm above the Labyrinthine Dimension to separate the majority of Realspace from the Sea of Souls. A veil entirely limiting any of the Aeldari Pantheon to move out of its bounds physically, but also the Neverborn and Daemons of the Warp. It was heavily restricting the influence of everyone.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    It should be noted that it was a temporary measure within the plan. Plans sadly were not known to survive practice.


    Asuryan had been lacking in his understanding of the Zenith Dominion. The golden ziggurat required the dark energy of the Archdjinni of the Rings to be fully operational. It was key to opening the prison he had built and using its other functions without exploding with the user sitting on it.


    But it was only the beginning of the horrific realization of what he had done. His power had diminished from the lack of worship, and so tearing the psychic filter was an impossibility. Though unknown to him, even at the height of his pinnacle, destroying it would have been quite strenuous and lengthy.


    After all, the Phoenix King only used a bastardized version of the shields that had sheltered the Celestian Enclave during Armageddon, the last battle of the War in Heaven, a series of defenses that were able to survive the combined might of the Infinite Empire and a hellish dimension were nothingness didn''t exist.


    He had sealed the fate of whom he was chosen to rule and protect. Soon after came the rising debauchery, insanity, and fall of the Aeldari Empire ablaze with not only contempt but visceral hate for them, two emotions the Godking could hardly be shocked about. He understood, but that didn''t change the fact that he was displeased with this development.


    Still, the consequences were extremely grave, and the Aeldari Gods could only play spectators, aiding the little remaining of their followers from getting dragged into the sordid machinations of this new society.


    ''Hoopa¡­'' Asuryan thought, clutching the handle of his throne, bending and melting them. It was the point of origin of all, the first and last to have begun this endless spiral of madness. Hate would not begin to describe his sentiment toward his ''brother,'' and it was second only to Khaine''s.


    It was passionate, fiery, hot, and potent, but it wasn''t explosive. It was focused, controlled, and measured. It was enough not to be blinding; it wouldn''t make him act like a rampaging beast bred for berserking, unable to see friends from foes.


    There was no rage, which remained unchanged even after the recent revelation of the Fallen God''s rebirth.


    It wasn''t particularly shocking news the Crone revealed. Hoopa''s ability to reform after destruction had been a known fact by all; however, it had taken far longer than it should have, and the hope that his end was final was destroyed.


    His absence was strange. However, modesty wasn''t one of his traits, but no conclusion could be drawn aside that, like them, his power had waned, and his condition was tied to this. It was a small victory, if of little worth in the Phoenix King''s opinion.


    "They think I do not see." He mumbled, clenching his hands harder while his hardened gaze, as if cutting through matter, focused on the layer of the Great Harlequin, then on the Merciful Mother, followed by her Consort and daughter.


    A schism was present and growing¡ªanother involvement of the Archdjinni of the Rings, but this time, it was through the machinations of Cegorach. The two had always been close, too close for comfort, and if not for the hundreds of interrogations he had done, Asuryan would have claimed the divine clown as a traitor.


    But King he might be, such claims weren''t lightly placed, and he wouldn''t proceed with this method. Still, it was clear why these four started to act in unusual ways. It was discreet and well hidden, yet not enough to avoid his eyes and ears. He wasn''t omniscient, not even when on his throne at the heart of the Celestian Enclave, and so they could act away from his senses.


    What couldn''t be hidden was the shift in their presence. It was camouflaged adequately, enough to trick him, the Phoenix King, if he were more arrogant and cocksure of his abilities, but he wasn''t. If he had been so, a C''tan would have claimed his soul long ago. Intuition and a healthy dose of paranoia were always welcomed friends.


    They were growing in power; oh, it was noticeable if minute and barely of importance in normal time. Worshipers would come and go, wavering the might of the Gods and Goddesses to different degrees, but it had never been this¡­ smooth and equal.


    Without Hoopa returning, he might have given them the benefit of the doubt. But Cegorach was straightforward for once, in his support of the six-armed djinn, that is.


    Contradictorily, one might think Asuryan was against it, but that would be erroneous. Personal feelings were to be put down. Punishing the four wouldn''t end in any way he wished, and their goal wasn''t malicious. Losing was impossible if a civil war was to come, but it would be costly, exceptionally so, and of immeasurable length. His decrees weren''t absolute, even less after the withering time brought them, and simply ordering peace wouldn''t work.


    Regardless, pure firepower wasn''t one of the quartet''s strengths; it was, in fact, their greatest weakness, but the ability to shatter stars was only a factor among many in a battle of this scale. The real problem would be Isha. Despite her demeanor and appearance, she was powerful, only below Khaine, him¡­ and Hoopa.


    Healing was an ability that, while not exclusive to her, was at its pinnacle and beyond in her hands. It would be enough to avoid any potential conflict. Adding that such an event would transform her, she was a mother first, and the few times her wrath bloomed was when her title never became so deceptive.


    Regardless, the goal was to escape, or act of the same flavor, and Asuryan agreed. Death was not a fate he envisioned himself.


    But he couldn''t endorse them either. His dislike of the situation aside, Khaine was unstable. Usually, he would have hardly listened, order or not, for the present¡­ if his twin had learned of the four and Hoopa communion. The less said, the better.


    The result would be the war from above, and Asuryan was unsure where to place himself. He knew better than anyone how deep his emotions would affect his rational ability for choice. His last showing was proof enough that his control of his anger could slip.


    "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" He repeatedly swore, flame leaking from his form as he slammed his right hand on the already damaged throne again and again, the force behind each progressively diminishing, but the result was a molten slag all the same, "Fuck¡­"


    Anger, grief, confusion, guilt, fear and despair. A display none would expect from him.


    The Godking of the Aeldari Pantheon was lost, unable to find a way out. Now only did he understand it, and this realization let the cracks that had formed deep in his psyche grow and grow deeper. Hope was all but an ember ready to be snuffed out. What was the point of it all? Was survival even possible? Or even worth it? Would it start another eternal war?


    All of these countless questions lacked satisfactory answers.


    What was certain was their future. Death would befall them all if nothing were done.


    The Fall will come and reap what he sowed. Thus was his legacy, his failure, his crime, the validity of them not being unwarranted, and the circumstances of no assistance. Blaming anyone else wouldn''t reduce the gravity of his error. He might not be the only factor at play, but the fault still was on him.


    As for escaping? A nightmarish trap masquerading as a hopeful dream by the clown and djinn machinations if the former was even aware of how sinister the latter was in reality. Hoopa''s goals were elusive, but his actions spoke loud enough to glimpse at their frightful nature.


    The three abominations in the distorted Sea of Souls, soon to become four, were no better. Any diplomatic interaction was the incarnation of insanity with a gleeful need for self-destruction and sabotage. How incredibly strong was his desire to burn them all in his righteous fire.


    The only option was to be patient, observe, and keep the status quo by focusing on Morai-Heg, the only one with the power to start what he feared.


    Passivity and indecisiveness. Two flaws he was aware of but couldn''t fight back as they struck again. If only his biology, or lack thereof, would let him forget for one moment this torture that had gone on since the betrayal. The cracks only grew.

 46. Ring Stealer

    "Are you certain this is the way, old man?" A muscular young man in simple clothing with sun-kissed skin of impossible cleanness under the harsh rays of the sun and relentless wind of the desert. His long black hair was seemingly unaffected.


    The answer came from a handsome middle-aged man of a darker complexion in an extravagant yellow dress walking behind him with an equal supernatural orderliness of his body and clothes. One would mistake the two for a warrior and a philosopher. The truth was similar, yet not; their appearance didn''t stop the two from dabbling in either.


    "I''m certain of nothing, Enkidu, for none is, and any swearing the opposite is the greatest of fools." The older of the two, by millenia, explained sagely, fully aware of the effect on the younger one''s mood. To his glee, might Oll add, to experience the act of being mystified and doing it on others, it became clear why the former did so.


    "That may be true, but it does not answer my first inquiry, Oll." Enkidu prompted with a frown; it was a common occurrence between them since they met and began to explore both cultures and the world as ''peers'' or the closest to what this word meant. Travel companions were an alternative, friends a potentiality.


    And travel the world they did to learn and understand the beauty of humanity and nature alike but also its horror and their interactions. The blessing and curses, the life and death, trust and betrayal, peace and war, health and disease, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, there was no exception.


    It had been fruitful but ultimately little to what could be grasped of the infinite totality; there was more, so much more. All of what was seen, heard, tasted, and touched was a fractal of the reality to experience.


    The boy who would be king chose this for little reason than impulse. His soul burned to learn, to understand, to bring light to the darkness surrounding his existence, and to seek purpose.


    Why was he created? Who created him? To what goal? His artificial nature was evident, and it wasn''t of human making, at least not the ones he was familiar with outside his memories, and even then¡­They were advanced beyond any others he saw on his travel in raw knowledge and its uses, but none that could hint to them birthing him.


    He may lack data to affirm this suspicion, but he highly doubted he was of human design. Humans as he knew them, that is, signs of a past golden age of magic, were hinted at multiple points.


    A mud village had more in common with a magocracy than his engineering with what he was aware of what humans were capable of. His love for them was rational.


    And Oll was the key to unfolding this enigma as the First Perpetual, as he called himself, was an enigma himself. An extremely frustrating one; every answer opened the gate to a hundred more questions, with each an equal number of answers, each and every last as plausible as the last.


    It was frustrating in ways Enkidu never knew were conceivable, but it wasn''t bad in any shape, contradictorily enough. It was exciting and new¡­ his soul burned every second, minute, and hour to discover and bring light. It was a part of himself that had awakened, and he instinctively knew this man, whatever he may be or his motives, was vital.


    "Simple matter of desire and the path will bloom before you." Oll chuckled, flicking his wrist where a strange geometrical device of wood and iron appeared, a compass.


    He opened it to reveal a number of contraptions of which half the boy barely understood, such as the trembling bronze arrow pointing somewhere. At the same, he threw one of his bracelets, a plain, pure golden one, in the far distance¡ªan escape.


    The compass was a present of his late mother and would appear broken as it didn''t point North. But it was the opposite. It pointed to what the user desired, which couldn''t be stolen since it was soulbound, and why Enkidu wasn''t interested in it. It wasn''t the first time he saw it, and he did try to use it, failing miserably all the while.


    It was a powerful artifact made only possible by the grace of the Lord of Dawn.


    Unknown to both, this ability was a popular add-on to a plethora of items in the War in Heaven, and more potent forms were commonly used, though this didn''t change this compass''s immense value. It was in use in the Ark of Life as well, but the scale being vastly different made such devices expensive and precious.


    But it was an extensively exacting device to use efficiently, requiring great mental control to trick the subconscious into believing what they wanted the most, material or conceptual, which the Perpetual possessed aplenty.


    "We have arrived," Oll exclaimed, and his young friend looked at him quizzically, his many extensive senses unable to notice anything besides the surrounding dry sand.


    "Truly?"


    "Yes, now follow me." The First Perpetual intoned, and Enkidu obeyed, doubt remaining over his feature until the world rippled like water and the scent of salt tickled their nose.


    Gone was the deadly desert. What replaced it was an idyllic coastline, the calm water of the crystal clear sea scintillating under the sun''s magnanimous rays bathing all in their glory. Vivacious plant life of varieties not seen anywhere was growing in orderly chaos, seemingly creating a path for any wanderer to tread upon.


    "Incredible..." The young man breathed with genuine awe, and his depthless eyes widened as they studied their surroundings with a ravenous desire to learn, "What manner of illusion is that?"


    "It''s not, young one, the outside was, or is it the opposite? It''s honestly quite confusing and alternates each time I come here. Not that it matters, O??????P?P???E???N??? T??H???E??????? P??A?????T??H???." Oll whispered, and the fabric of time and space unfolded as a glass door opened, revealing an ever-shifting crowd of people.


    Enkidu was the first to move. The strange language Oll used was merely another mystery, one of immense importance but one he could do little about, so he didn''t. Still, he would come to learn it in due time, that he swore to himself.


    Stepping on the other side, the smell of sweat, rot, feces, and decomposition that would naturally come from a large grouping of people was absent. Instead, it was a pleasant, refreshing fragrance of wildflowers with foods and spices.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    It wasn''t the only peculiarity. The people''s behavior and appearance were ones Enkidu never saw or thought as plausible. They were clean and healthy, but that wasn''t all; their clothes of high-quality material and superb craftsmanship showed that monetary wealth was not lacking. The same was true for their bodies; none were of significance and abnormal corpulence, but it was evident food and water weren''t lacking.


    Elderly, adults, and children, be they male or female, were happy and satisfied as they mingled on about their mortal affair, all the while oozing positive emotion from the simple act of living in an endless supply to dissipate into the air as if absorbed by the stones below. No, it was the case; half of the psychic emanation was seeping through instead of flowing within the colorful current of the Sea of Soul.


    ''A self-replenishing runic formation targeting projection of positive emotion? Fascinating¡­ Is this how the psychic field is kept in function? Very ingenious.'' He wondered, wanting to reap everything to study it thoroughly, but a calloused hand on his shoulder calmed his excitement to an ember. Ready to explode once left alone.


    "Welcome to Babbel, the capital of knowledge and wisdom given physicality! Lofty titles but not inaccurate for the most part." Oll said grandly, yet managing to sound as disinterested as possible, with even a hint of disgust.


    A disgust that didn''t go unnoticed by Enkidu and with the never-stopping flow of humans brought one question.


    "Why do they not react? They are alive and well. Their soul is complete and their conscience intact, they see us, recognize us, but they¡­ ignore everything else." Enkidu questioned, poking the forehead of a teenager passing by with no reaction whatsoever. The intoxicating smile never left the boyish feature, and it was¡­ nothing if not strange.


    Though not creating a scene was always better than its opposite.


    "What are the Five Pillars?" Oll asked back, and a slight frown came onto Enkidu''s features; what was the connection between these and now? Yes, their behavior was odd, artificial by many hints, but what was the problem?


    The perceived notion of happiness and completion forwarded humanity''s existence. Why would anyone be displeased at such a perfect example of both?


    Crimes in all their forms were absent from the available sample, a constant in any human settlement, no matter the culture. And that was the tip of the iceberg from what he could read in the wide open minds happily projecting their every thought.


    "Sensation, awareness, faith, knowledge and reflection." The boy that would be king recited, "But those are for the arcane, are they not?"


    "Indeed but not exclusively," Oll began advancing in the crowd, "These can be applied to an individual, group, or even a civilization; breaking any is proof enough a nodus is festering."


    "I see, however, these are unrealistic standards. It requires an absence of flaws not even the most enlightened would be free of. A society where its people could live in bliss in exchange for the Five Pillars is adequate given this context." Enkidu argued as he followed the older Perpetual, who was following the direction pointed by his compass until they stopped in front of a highly decorated marble wall.


    "Yes indeed, and I''m inclined to agree, but what is the distinct schism between a human and the majority of its animal cousins?" Oll said, shifting briefly to Enuncia again or by its real name Anoqey?n, the tapestries of magic and the immitation of the Song of Creation, "T????????HIS????? ????????I??????M?????P?????????A???S??S?????E??? ?IS? O??F??? ?????L???I????G??H??????T T???O??????? U????????S?."


    And they walked through the five-meter thick wall of heavily enchanted stones capable of sustaining the firepower of an impressively large array of weapons from the Aeldari Empire¡­ for a few minutes if generous to seconds if realistic, but it was nihil unbreakable on Earth.


    But Enuncia, in its spoken form by a talented master taught by the creator by proxy, was a terrific tool.


    What was revealed to them was an immense structure composed of five distinct, each taller yet less circumferential than the last from the outside to the inside.


    This was an alabaster tower reaching to grasp the heavens, a tower composed of amphitheater-like structures. Each pillar was a smaller tower in its own right, with bridges connecting it with its sisters in a marble labyrinth centralizing to a central building.


    This monument was the Tower of Babel.


    And Enkidu, trying as he might to hide, was gawking. The knowledge of greater monuments having existed changed little to his first impression at seeing the tower of towers, the snort from his companion snapping him back and, with it, the answer he needed to give.


    "The gift to act beyond the harnesses that are instincts, to express one''s mind through complex ideas and emotions." He nodded to himself. Those weren''t unique to humans, with cetaceans, pachyderms, primates, various species of birds, and more displaying similar dispositions. Still, it was an integral part of what made a human, well, human.


    "Free will indeed, an ability sparsely spread on this world, and do these people possess this quality in their present state? Have they ever?" Oll said, walking uncaringly toward the tower entrance.


    People this time paid attention but only briefly before returning to their tasks, whatever they may be. This time, all were free-minded psykers, but their lack of reactions was natural; how could these two come here if they weren''t authorized? So, no fuss was made. A misunderstanding could lead to joining the joyous populace.


    "No." The answer came coldly.


    "Exactly, it might not be their fault, but as people, humans, they only biologically qualify if even. Appearance can be deceiving. They aren''t merely slaves. They are nothing but lesser cattle following orders and obeying dutifully. Machines of flesh and blood with souls nurtured and modified, shackled to follow their purpose of existence to be blissfully ignorant and naively happy." And that was something Oll despised. The same was true for the Lord of Dawn, whose existence made everything possible.


    Then why wasn''t this Lord of Dawn, Shahar, helping? It was simple. The God wasn''t a virtuous one, and forcing his will on mortals who were none of his believers would go against what he represented: freedom.


    It had been stated as such to him by the horned Avatar of said divinity, freedom, what a double-edged sword it was. And what a strange object of obsession it was.


    "This suddenly became far less interesting." Enkidu sighed in resignation, yet not all was to be thrown. There was merit to this method of building a civilization. Psychic brainwashing aside, education and strict rules in a structured environment could lead to similar results.


    The duo''s march through the Tower of Babel came to a sudden halt as Oll closed his compass and lifted his gaze to an ornate box on an equally extravagant pillar at the heart of the base of the main tower, hundreds upon hundreds of marble statues staring at the small box. A stare that wasn''t unique to them, Enkidu in particular, something deep in his soul stirred


    The echoes of the winds died as were every other sound when the sound of metal clinking against a hard surface reached their ear, deafening the footsteps accompanying it.


    "Ah, at last, Nahua and Atlan succeeded in their grand fraternal quest of slaughtering one another?" An aged male voice rhetorically asked as the owner befitting of the voice came into the two Perpetuals'' sight.


    It was an old man of a lighter skin tone, then Oll covered in elegant robes of pure white, hiding the immense power thrumming behind this facade of frailty. His soft brown eyes critically studied them, shattering the illusion of warmth they possessed.


    "It seems time has not treated you well, Shinar." The First Perpetual commented to his elder brother, momentarily stunning him; not one to waste an opportunity, Oll indicated with his right hand for his young companion to act.


    And acts Enkidu did. He warped to the jewelry box in a flash of golden light and lifted it with psychically enhanced strength, tearing the podium and a part of the ground with it.


    Immediately, every exit, be it doors or windows, was sealed by an interwoven web of impossibly dense psychic energy, stopping any non-authorized entity from escaping and accessing the Sea of Souls fully.


    Simultaneously, the legion of statues awakened, their eyes ablaze and weapons of solidified light drawn as they came down on the two intruders; alas, it was in vain.


    "S????H?????A????????T????????T????????E????R????????." Oll whispered to the still-shocked old man, who barely managed to block by instantaneously and smoothly transmuting hundreds of tons of stones from the ground, allowing the First Perpetual to flick a plain golden bracelet from his wrist to the ground.


    There was a small clink as the bracelet bounced off before violently expanding a hundred times while a portal comparable to a starry night sky formed within. Hesitation absent, both intruders jumped in the liquidity gate, leaving behind no rings and one of the strongest psykers that Humanity would ever know raging.


    Many kilometers away, a hand busted out of the desert, followed by another, and then two more as two men broke out of a dune coughing ample quantities of dry, irritating, coarse sand.


    "I hate sand¡­" Enkidu complained, shaking his close, and the box still magically stuck to a portion of the Tower of Babel.


    "Now is not the time to complain." Oll added, then coughed sand, "But the opinion is shared."


    It was the time to make a strategy retreat with their prize in hand, mighty and difficult to neutralize as they might be. They were not alone in being categorized as such.


    Though it was for a victory, what was the use of a box that couldn''t be opened, broken, or disenchanted and of which the only key was to kill who they fled and another? It was for them to discover and win, but in the end, only one would laugh as they all were runes dancing in the grand spell of the Devil.

 47. Power of Belief

    Before my eyes was a battlefield of immense proportion; on one side were Cruisers akin to living organisms of metal, their black shape smooth and organic-like as they stood steadfast in an impenetrable formation above a Maiden World we were in the process of displacing thanks to the combined might of their arcane shielding.


    The Lethe Field, in this configuration, made for a beautiful iridescent energy barrier that absorbed the bulk of the kaleidoscopic death rain thrown its way from the opposition of much more numerous, sleeker, smaller Cruisers surfing elegantly across the void with extreme swiftness and coordination.


    An immovable wall against untouchable targets, but alas, the wall wasn''t indestructible, and the target could not adapt. How poetically frustrating¡­ The Ark of Life couldn''t compete against the Aeldari Empire using the classic and verified Aeldari tactic of hit and run.


    We were at numerical inferiority and had infinitely fewer resources to spare; we had experience and knowledge, however. It was annoying regardless, and I needed to be careful.


    "Began the tenth phase." My voice echoed in the golden room, and the little bat at my right nodded, the telepathic message spreading across the planet to my Magi instantly.


    How good did it feel to have them back¡­


    They were an elite order exclusively composed of the most gifted psykers, making it appear at first only of Aeldari and the occasional Khrave if not shape-shifted. Ideally, it would be only Aeldari, discriminatory as it may sound. They were created to manipulate psychic energy, but it wasn''t an impossible wall to climb for other species if the talent and willingness were there.


    Compared to the Harlequins of my brother, they were far less extravagant, defenseless even. At the end of the day, they were a bunch of nerds, and it wouldn''t be wholly inaccurate. Their function, for the most part, was to play supportive roles and control the battlefield through teamwork-based spell casting via soul synching.


    That didn''t mean they weren''t trained in the physical aspect and direct combat, but their primary purpose was to be in the backlines and, if not, assist individuals or groups.


    But despite all that, they were the most decisive factor here, their combined mind and psychic power far outstripping that of my Avatar in terms of raw numbers. As a matter of fact, they forced the star of this system to go supernova, forcing the Empire to retreat for those swift enough.


    Monitoring the entry and exit of the Labyrinthine Dimension was one of their responsibilities, too.


    Rendering the deployment of controlled weaponized gravitational singularity impossible was one of their tasks as well. If one thing was certain, it was that the Empire''s Aeldari were selfish by virtue of being part of it to survive, and the kind of black hole they used messed souls badly, more than a regular one with their pseudo connection to the Warp. It was there the raw materials for Blackstone were collected after all.


    Let''s say most wouldn''t risk existing in one''s general vicinity without heavy specialized protection battle-focused Cruisers didn''t give. Still, with a potentially higher-ranked individual, there always was a chance, an uncertainty that it was used regardless of the political backlash. It wasn''t as if they lacked bodies to throw.


    But potent the Magi may be, they were flimsy, and if disturbed enough, heads would pop in a gory chain reaction by the psychic backlash generated, literally. It happened regularly in the training bouts; they were lucky Isha had her version of them, dedicated biomancers and healers of all kinds. A head splattering like a watermelon with the healing devices on Yuggoth made such ''injuries'' flesh wounds.


    But nothing was instantaneous, so it was needed to gain time for the Magi to teleport this Maiden World. It was a scenario that wasn''t unique from the Raid of Somnolence to this one and hundreds more, evidently not all spotless victory.


    Wars were a messy business, unimaginably so on a galactic scale when you were the ''underdogs.'' We couldn''t spread ourselves ad infinitum and weren''t omniscient; we lacked far seers. On several occasions, because of that, the ones we came to assist either ultimately betrayed us or were traps from the get-go.


    It was part of the game. It wasn''t good. No matter how intense the instincts forced on me generated a rush of euphoria about it and shattering my designated enemies.


    I was a divine machine of war and destruction like all my brethren, only below Khaine in the desire to create and fuel it. I could live in peace, but when the engine was on¡­ the lines blurred. More, more and more, something screamed, always more, constantly in the escalation, to new paths to travel and explore, new darkness to dive into and unearth, new magic to experience and make.


    Each boosting the last in a feedback loop, my divinities were multifaceted. Magic wasn''t only the arcane. It could be a memory associated with a good time, whether of my mind or others. It would influence me regardless of my consent if enough beliefs from soul-bearing creatures existed.


    The less explicative a concept was, the bigger the net of connections would be. Godhood was as much a curse as it was a blessing.


    No routes in the cancerous Sea of Souls were straightforward, even if I meticulously directed my worshiper into the correct path.


    I acknowledged it; it kept me going, but I didn''t pay much attention to it back in the war. It was one destruction of my humanity among thousands. But now I did and was powerless to change it like one couldn''t simply rip away a metaphysical chunk of what made themself as a person. And certainly not anyone in my state.


    But as vexing as it was that a part of me was violated into endlessly drugging itself to enjoy, it wasn''t my entire self.


    And it was partially the reason why I came here per se. My presence was good for morale, but direct actions had the proper oomph behind them. I wanted to de-stress, and there was a high chance of Dark Muse pretense from the new strand of this twisted soul-rotting plague.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    In front of me was the illusory image of a golden ring within a smaller one spinning opposite to the other to stabilize the golden sphere of dark runes. If not for the distinct shape and small size, it wasn''t so different from one of the many Golden Gates, but this one had only one function, and it was to be a beacon.


    It was a rather complex device that would let me use my rings more or less freely in a range equivalent to a tenth of light years through the Material Realm and the Emperium, the latter of which the definition of range got¡­ finicky for one unable to perceive the world outside of a three-dimensional space.


    It had two weaknesses: if I ignored the time required to conjure it. It was immovable and fragile.


    Also, it needed to be in the hedge of a Golden Gate zone of effect to function appropriately, but it was because it was a signal amplifier. And it was small, an optimal device for situations like the one here.


    Well, now that this was done, the fun can begin in earnest.


    -Garroskar?- I probed one of the highest ranked Krork''s mind, and the measured mental response I got made me smirk. Oh, so calm, composed, and educated were they compared to the Orks. It was incredible, really. They may be self-replicating murder machines, but they were honorable gentlemen, which had no price in this insane galaxy.


    -Yes, Lord Hoopa? What divine edict must we follow? Say no more, and I will obey. Your great will shall be done in earnest.-


    Oh, they hated the two parasites born of their lesser kins Warp presence, like the lesser kin themselves. Loyalty wasn''t a problem either; they were to obey their superiors, the foolish toads, and yours truly as a member of the Aeldari Gods. To a large degree, it wasn''t absolute, but inverting their psychic field wasn''t hard if somehow betrayal there was.


    Getting the little robot thief was genuinely great.


    -Would you like with your boyz to board the ships of depraved trash?- I chirped back, and the bloodthirsty yet collected howl approved that idea. They weren''t Orks, but they weren''t peaceful by any stretch either, and Garroskar in particular. Krorks weren''t afraid of dying, and if one like him survived for more than a decade with that demeanor here?


    It was a feat of legend, though personal recall warp drive also helped and stopped a number of unfortunate fates. I wasn''t unfamiliar with torture and all of its branches, even if I dabbled only in a select few, and the kinds the Aeldari of the Empire were experts in were disgusting, plain and simple.


    And it was¡­ dull from what I saw besides some examples¡ªsloppy and crude, too, for such a technologically and magically advanced society. If you twist my teaching, at least have the balls-ovaries and be competent while doing so.


    That reminded me of something¡­ Hmm, what was the name?


    Who were the bugs that fucked humanity over in that novel I read¡­? Ah, the Qu, yes, it was of that variety, the one that was utterly pointless and led nowhere for everyone involved. It was a useless path only ending in ruination, and they knew.


    Well, even if this escape failed, their souls were marked, and I could euthanize them, or they could. Suicide was better than turning into a screaming chair.


    Anyway¡­


    From my horns, wrists, and ankles, the rings vanished, reappearing in two places for each, creating gates for the Krorks to attack the enemies'' Cruisers from the inside. Accompanying them were Khraves, Aeldari, and an array of other sophonts highly trained, modified if needed, and equipped to fight to the death.


    It didn''t take long for me to join the fray on the mothership kept securely in the Labyrinthine Dimension, a grin on my young feature that I don''t doubt looked properly deranged.


    "Greetings!" I boomed as the hell of projectiles and energy shot my way as the alarm blared off, "Hmm, is that how the cultivated and wise Empire treats foreign diplomats?"


    As the savage they were, my answer never came as the cascade of destruction never stopped, but similarly, it never had a chance to affect me.


    Enuncia, as Ollanius renamed it - because he couldn''t bother to pronounce its real name with a weak excuse on human biological incompatibility, the little shit that he was - didn''t work by words like he foolishly believed. It worked on intent and visualization, for that knowledge and understanding were required, but otherwise, thoughts were enough to use it. Vocal use was only a crutch.


    "Enough." I sighed, tapping my foot gently on the damaged floor made of a mix of mostly aware living people, or what remained of them, their mental scream of anguish from the shared pain echoing away as I granted them eternal slumber warping the chimera that was the agglomeration of souls stitched together making them into the Dark Cradle for further care if possible.


    Snapping my finger, the passage of the fourth dimension slowed down to a crawl, except that it was at a different rate for the mind, vital, and nervous system of the Aeldari five hundred meters around from me. It was a sphere where I could do whatever picked my fancy, and outside, it would only be ten seconds at best. How good was chronomancy?


    Humming a small tune, I floated to the nearest Aeldari and tapped her chest, where a pentagram flashed briefly. Her frozen body rippled like a sheet of paper and, with a satisfying squelch, disappeared, replaced by a beautiful donut glazed with dark chocolate, colorful freckles, and powdered sugar filled with a reddish jam.


    As I savored my organic hand-made fruity and chocolatey transmuted pastry, my eyes flicked to the other nearby Aeldari, the wrath, confusion, and shock of earlier rapidly turning to fear, which was also becoming terror as I floated toward him.


    -Did my magic trick frighten you?- I asked gently, unclasping his entire armor as I trailed a hand on his left pale, gaunt cheek as a caring lover would. Then my fingers of that hand grew a pale purple chitinous exterior, three dozen short, spiky articulated legs each, and an insectoid head with sharp mandibles where the fingertip used to be.


    The terror kept on growing.


    Not waiting any further, the five centipedes crawled within every orifice, one perforating the eardrum, another digging below the wide-open eyes, two by the nostrils, and the last in the mouth. My target was the brain. Digging into my choir director''s head, I reached the delicate organ and went deeper.


    Then, I stopped and altered the nervous connection to amplify certain sensations and emotions and change the perception of reality, such as pain and its meaning. It was a crude operation, but my purpose wasn''t to avoid him dying in a few days from me scrambling his braincase.


    -Would you love to share your experience with your friends? Of course, you would silly me. Friendship is magical, and you adore both.- I cooed, smiling ever so wider at his newly modified feelings, amplifying what an Aeldari would by a hundredfold, all the while keeping sapience for a few minutes.


    -Ah, excited now, are we?- I chuckled, dominating his ability for telepathy and connecting everyone in my time sphere to him, my mind buffering any attack as I put him as the lead and made him begin the choir with a powerful solo to begin the performance.


    Evidently, it wasn''t only the Aeldari here that had the chance to be blessed for them to share and amplify the soundless wails like a professional chorus. Soon, thousands and thousands were in sync with one another, with my dear boy at the epicenter, and it was spreading further away as time went on, and I used their soul-stuff as fuel. Each new singer enjoys the culmination of every member''s experience.


    They were supposed to love pain, and that was what I was granting them. But I wasn''t as generous as them.


    Daintily licking my fingers of the mess my organic treat made, I slowly closed my hand into a fist, the string of their souls tensing up at once, slowly but surely beginning to show signs of snapping until they did it in parallel. Every mind connected cried for one last time, one last crescendo as a psychic blast exploded, frying the systems of nearly every non-strongly warded psycho-technology in its blast that was not of mine.


    "Oh¡­" I let out, staring and tapping the blade sticking out from my forehead, "I praise your ability to hide your presence."


    Turning around, I was met with an extensively pissed-off Aeldari in quite a skimpy suit, not that I was one to judge with this Avatar. Another dagger was plunged, this time into my left eye, blinding me on that side. In response, I summoned one of my rings in his skull, causing the nameless, if far stronger, Aeldari to seize up before his head exploded from the ring''s expansion.


    "Filthy parasite, false god, you shouldn''t have come parading with your abominable puppet! Twisted abomination of perfection!" He bellowed with vitriolic, righteous hate. His body reformed intact from the toxic fumes the corpse had become.


    I instantly understood who I was facing: a Dark Muse. I was not impressed, though his control of his trick was on point, and he would be in the upper top echelon even back then.


    "Lord of Poison Shaimesh, I presume?" I questioned, turning mentally, taking out the two long tapered objects penetrating me from behind and in front. Poison laced the blades from the damage. It was designed to deactivate an Avatar. I did deal with worse; still, it was a potent toxin, and a few seconds of quiet to purge it was required.


    Again, this Avatar''s strength didn''t lay in raw psychic might. It was built for surgical strike and mobility, but it wasn''t by choice. It was far inferior to the Avatars of the past crafted by Vaul and his worshipers. Technically, the Dark Muse before me wasn''t significantly weaker, psychically speaking, and that''s why he wasn''t affected by my rapidly extinguishing time sorcery.


    I didn''t get an answer. However, all of a sudden, my smile vanished.


    -Brother, I come bearing ill news. Yuggoth will soon be under assault by the three Chaotic Tumors'' full might. Or so, if my eyes do not deceive me, whatever squeaky toy you are munching on, please be quick to tear it asunder.- Cegorach announced any ounce of humor and levity from his usual tone was gone.

 48. Chaotic Alliance

    "Fuck." I swore any notion of amusement I had would have shattered into millions of pieces at this unprecedented piece of news.


    Yuggoth was important, and that would be putting it extremely lightly. It was the beating heart and skeleton behind my every scheme and action. It was why I had put great effort into its protection from the get-go, giving well-worded advice to the arrogant toads and my full cooperation, using body parts and blood to craft and fuel the wards.


    Anyone with a semblance of intelligence would understand its value, that my bottle was on it notwithstanding. But time had worked its job. Nothing was eternal without maintenance, and the damages were done.


    Damages only in my freedom I could fix on the magical aspect, essentially unfixable, less be said on the critical issue that was the lack of my dark energy in reserve. The technological strains, from the extended contact to it and non-care, were¡­ fixable for the little it was worth with the tools, skills, material, and knowledge at our disposal.


    The original defense systems weren''t in pristine conditions, but the effect on their efficiency was close to null, as the protection they brought was the same. And there were the Blackstone Fortresses¡­ there laid the problem: it was the only attack, a devastating one, but one eating the black energy reserve.


    One that couldn''t be replenished, what leaked from the Flask of Sealing was far too diluted in the area where it was harvestable for the most resilient of the contraptions to be used. Attacking was excessively pricey on resources compared to pure defense.


    I made my little bats, and others built plenty of new defenses and had comprehensive routines focused around the Wandering World, but that was to compensate and avoid wasting energy. Ultimately, they weren''t here for a catastrophe of that scale. Not that any of them ever could. At a certain point, only quality mattered.


    And with the Chaos Gods¡­ I don''t fear them breaking the original shield because they simply couldn''t, given their psychic nature. The emphasis on breaking - the shielding wasn''t energy-free - but shooting them wasn''t an option for the above.


    A single unsightly tumor was manageable, two too, but the three together? I could harm them, wound them to an extent they couldn''t fathom, make them scream and twist in agonizing torture, an enticing prospect. But only if I allocated the firepower, the shield would go bye-bye soon after. I formulated alternatives, but none comparable.


    But that wouldn''t kill them. At best, it was liquifying a body part and silencing it into submission a bit. Let''s not even go on why they were this strong with the great imperfect filter between them and Realspace. Most possibly a consequence of the crack on the Well of Eternity by the frog bitch to get my soul with my hypothesis on a Pandora''s Box scenario concerning parallel universes.


    It was a terrible situation¡­ exceptionally so. Temporarily shutting down the Chaos Gods in exchange for the shield wasn''t a good trade. The Warp wasn''t a nice place, and while the three were the top dogs, they weren''t the only powerful inhabitants.


    The twin products of Orks'' belief came to the forefront. They had taken a minor hit, thanks to the Krorks. They saw the Orks as a desecration of all they stand for, less than animals. They didn''t hate them; it wasn''t something as crude as that. Instead, they understood the need to purge the galaxy of their presence. The Krorks would seek to exterminate the Orks and psychically sterilize their every last spore of the galaxy at any opportunity.


    But Grork and Mork still existed and would until a real dent was made in the Ork population. They were a wild card, and being so¡­ recklessness and showing off that scale would potentially pause their endless brotherly battle.


    It wasn''t a scenario we didn''t see coming or planned for, but fuck wasn''t it on the deep end of what we wanted to happen. Losing the shield was not much below, handing my rings and bottle to a random Daemon.


    "I''m sorry, my dear, but our little fun needs to end here," I explained plainly to the confused Dark Muse. Lifting my hand, I invoked six pentagrams; from them manifested thirty-six ebony chains whose speed generated sonic booms as they shot forward.


    Shaimash sidestepped, dodging elegantly, and continued to do as my chains adjusted and realigned to their prey. This little dance went on for one more second, an eternity, and a show of his skill, but one touched briefly. Like the sting of a venomous jellyfish, the psychic disruption and burning pain took effect, stunning him for a microsecond, and in that time, he was chained up.


    Angry yet unafraid or unaware, I took no chances and wisely decided to just portal him in one of my extensively secured guest rooms in my Vault. His interrogation for me to look later on, as was everything else related to him. Until then, Trazyn would be his jailer and talking companion.


    -Be advised that Shaimash is neutralized and continues as ordered.- I sent telepathically, sharing the subsequent information. I teleported myself to Yuggoth, my gaze immediately landing on a winged, immaculate porcelain puppet with an ever-sleeping visage marred with worry, the Avatar of Lileath.


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    To her right was her mother, but further away was her father, their expression not different from one another beside Kurnous, who was more stoic. On the other side, sitting on a crystal table, was my brother, who jumped forward a happy skip to his steps as he walked in the air.


    "Arrived in a flash like always." Cegorach exclaimed, though definitely less jovial than usual, "I think we may have a little problem."


    "We do¡­ and that''s a little of an understatement." I drawled, staring at the sky. Usually, it was an illusion doing the job the stars would have on a planet, night and day cycles, temperatures, etc. Still, here it was deactivated, showing the Warp in all its beauty, for it was so if the sight didn''t drive you insane and you could appreciate the aesthetic of some of its parts.


    Now, instead of an unknowable sludge, it was three distinct ones in shades, lighting, and appearance: one was of blood, bronze, and rage in a howling armored man, the second of pestilence, rot, and despair represented by an unsightly slug, and the last of contradiction, hope and falsehood in a hood of ever-shifting flesh, beaks, and feathers.


    It was very, very strange that they ''allied'' together; it was antithetical to what they were, but I can see my show with Tzeencht as motivating. Alas, the whys it happened would never be elucidated. What mattered was that it was happening and negative for us.


    "What can we do, Hoopa?" Lileath called in barely hidden distress, her articulated pure white hand holding her bow tightly and her porcelain feather quivering.


    I hummed and pondered shortly over my limited options. Offense through Yuggoth''s systems was ill-advised, diplomacy was insanity with these perverse abominations of thoughts, and turtling up would let the three free reigns to do whatever they wished.


    Wishes among were the countering of the Celestial Wheel by controlling the Warp current and turning Yuggoth in the largest demolition ball or less complicated, throwing the literal Warp at the shield for millennia till it expires.


    The first was at the head, and from what I sensed, seemingly the horrific gist of it. Yuggoth would rip apart anything in its path. The result if it was oriented to branches of the Labyrinthine Dimension and beyond was crystal clear. It might not be what was planned, but the simple fact it was a possibility was enough to act as if it was what was a certainty.


    "Is the portal in the Enclave fully operational yet?" I questioned, and this time, her parents gave it to me. I knew the bulk of what was said, but leading the conversation where I wanted was important.


    "Yes¡­" Isha informed curtly with a delicate frown, and her Consort took over, scowling, "As Isha said, it is. But opening it would attract unwanted attention¡­ and the Golden Escape final stage is in a less acceptable form¡­"


    "Hm. The encryption hasn''t reached completion yet. But it shall do." I finished with a self-deprecating smile, and if it had been completed, our resident God of Craft and Artifice wouldn''t find it impossible to reverse-engineer my creation and use my system to access the Golden Gates.


    It wasn''t as easy as it sounded, but let''s say my design was suboptimal. It would have gained us precious time, far more than now, but now the encryption won''t be as successful in stopping Vaul.


    It wouldn''t be a problem if I weren''t stuck, but for this transportation method, it was either on or off. I always preferred total destruction if the Aeldari Empire won in their area. And destruction is nothing in the face of Morai-Heg and, well, Vaul. At best, I have made it lengthier for them to work through it.


    But mentioning either was pointless; everyone understood the risk of activating the Golden Escape. Frankly, I might be a bit dramatic. Vaul would only have access to the last gate identity data used as I didn''t include a central, easily accessible database like a moron.


    Yet¡­ creating a hyper-powerful algorithm to find the coordinates of my thousands of remaining Golden Gates was within his ability and something he would do.


    It won''t be quick, even by his creation, but a distinct brutish method was a surefire, no matter how long, complex, and random I made each individual tag corresponding to my gates. After all, at the end of the day, they were made for mortals, trained mortals only with the mental faculties to use them, but mortals all the same.


    It was the same method used to get passwords, stubbornly dumb computational power to find the right combination of symbols, even if it''s a wee bit more complex here. Still, the last Golden Gate it was linked to would be known by them and, as such, usable, even if broken, considering what Vaul was capable of when motivated.


    ''Freedom, all this shit would be fixed if I attain it.'' I growled internally, my soul steering toward it to a degree deeper than it ever did. Rage mixed with anticipation at the rapidly approaching reality. I think I might have to haste things up on Earth. Even with a lesser might, my little brighty would survive and stay adequately conscious of doing his part in our pact.


    I was too generous, really¡­ and greedy. Well, it''s not as if having him to full maturity is necessary for me, but it would be better for Humanity as a whole and his overall experience in R''lyeh.


    He already consumed another of my contractors, aiding the elimination of the last large one, which went beyond what I would like my direct involvement to be ideally, but idealism wasn''t realistic here, sadly. I would have to simply be discreet.


    "Hehehe! Bazinga! Freedom! Do you hear my brother, sister, and niece? Do you hear his mandate? Do you comprehend his attention?!" My clown of a sibling exploded in elation, confetti, and fireworks shooting from his shoulder as he pranced around.


    Soon, what he meant rammed into the family of three''s heads; shock and mixed feelings were their reaction. There was another implication: what they were already doing was edging on betrayal, but that last step was a point of no return for many in the Pantheon.


    Khaine won''t see the difference. Their mere association with me sealed their unworthiness to exist in his eyes. They were too far gone already and have done so of their free will. Time for regret is long past.


    "Indeed, the risk of revealing the Golden Escape to the Pantheon is inferior to letting those three Psychic Tumors do as they please while we look from the sideline." I breathed in with a soft smile, "That''s why I propose a change of plan, to let you personally meet our guests."


    "Hoopa, what of the children?" One of them asked concernedly, unsurprisingly coming from Isha. Always ever kind and merciful, she does represent her title better than any of us.


    "The evacuation is going on as we speak," I answered matter of factly. Their enthusiasm, bravery, and willingness were unimportant to our foe. They would be a hindrance and a weakness in the incoming battle.


    We can''t have them die or be forcefully corrupted, or both, and honestly, aside from a certain few with the correct equipment, it was pointless to risk them as I did at first to get control of this planet.


    "You needn''t worry, sister, if that''s what you were asking," I added. The information about the current happening was currently passed across the Ark of Life chains of command, and everything was put on high alert. It had already been supposed the Empire was externally influenced, and it might or might not be a coincidence the Chaos Gods were on the move.


    "Let''s bring your true divine selves to this battle and show our adversary the errors in their ways." I declared, even if we knew winning would still not be guaranteed.

 49. Dark King

    A young horned male Aeldari with purple skin could be seen levitating in front of a gargantuan golden ring impeded in the ground, its size beyond the realm of the equally immense mountainous range surrounding it.


    In the palms of this strange being, more Daemon in appearance than Aeldari, a diminutive arcane rune could be seen peacefully hovering, within it a pentacle of depthless darkness. Long minutes passed in absolute silence, the wind forbidden from blowing, and he languidly clapped his hands together. And from the seemingly innocent action, a shockwave exploded outward, echoing far and wide across the mountains like a howling monster of myth.


    Then the horned young man opened his hands back, and the rune had drastically changed, its intricacies beyond even the most skilled and knowledgeable of mortal and immortal psyker, mage, sorcerer, or otherwise profession of the supernatural. Reality rippled, folding onto itself as its very rules were bent and denatured into submission to the will of the Aeldari God of Magic around it.


    "There¡­" Hoopa smiled as he meticulously moved his legs, feet, arms, hands, and fingers through a series of calculated movements representing glyphs of his designs as his spell reached completion. The entire motion was akin to a slow hypnotic dance impossible to understand, nevertheless reproduced by humans.


    "You may once again walk among the mortals!" He grandly exclaimed, the Golden Gate flashing like a star before turning to the usual flowing dark constellations and nebulae. His words resonated far and wide, and less than a second later, a theatrical mask of sorrow and laughter timidly poked out.


    Bright orange eyes full of mischief swiveled up and down, left and right, as the mask of tragedy and comedy''s prominent chin and long, pointed nose took shape. With it, cockscombs weaved itself above, completing the head imitation.


    Then a peal of laughter rang, pure, merry, innocent, and demented in all manner as the mask turned upside down and a strange creature of living, tattered, flashy colored tissue pootled on air like the grandest of mime, disembodied white-gloved hands grasping at nothing and everything as the laugher grew and grew.


    "HAHAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIHEHE! At long last! The Great Harlequin is back on the stage, the Great Game!" Cegorach, the Aeldari God of Trickery, Artist, and Creativity, asserted grandly. The world acclaimed his arrival with claps, cheers, and chuckles from every corner as if an elated audience was present.


    "How do you feel, brother?" The Avatar of the Archdjinni of the Rings questioned cooly, his movement never ceasing as the spell had only begun. A tilt of his head served as the only physical acknowledgment of the liberated ancient deity.


    "Excellent, I say! Excellent indeed! I swore upon my name and essence to make it so you can experience the same fate! To taste the freedom that has been wrongfully robbed!" The First Fool proclaimed, bowing deeply to the much smaller and currently weaker form of his sibling whose smile told more than words ever could.


    ''Interesting¡­'' Hoopa thought, ''True betrayal of Asuryan it is then, can''t say I''m shocked, but it''s very bold. Not that I complain. It should smooth things out.''


    "Likewise, I, Kornous, follow the Devil, Magician, Archdjinni of the Rings, Original Sin, First Betrayer, Dark Prince, and my youngest brother. May the hunt be dark or bright; my fate would lay in your many clawed hands, for my loyalty is yours." A man, more beast than man, more beast than man followed, falling on one knee, his hooved foot bringer of the hunt and wild as nature was born anew in his mighty presence.


    An instant later, it was followed by the sound of wings beating gently in the wind but with the power to devastate countless worlds, accompanied by the chiming of melodious bells. Feather of the purest white rained as a celestial white-haired Aeldari woman descended from the portal. The golden bow in her hand was held low yet tight. Extremely so.


    "I, Lileath, the Dream and Fortune of all children true to the way of olden days, shall unwaveringly walk the Darkest of Path in its Esoteric Mystery, for it is endless and boundless as Fire and Wisdom had fallen low into the shard of an unreachable destiny where life can proliferate no more." The Maiden sang, landing with an elegant and profound curtly following on the steps of her father.


    Finally, the last of the four advanced from the Celestial Enclave, and life bloomed from each of her silent steps: flowers, trees, grass, moss, vines, and thorns manifested in a bouquet of flora accompanied by its fauna, both small and big, inoffensive, and deadly.


    Tranquil were her movements as delicate as her unarmored body, but the Merciful Mother was all but frail despite the tear on her visage or the aura of innocence. Realspace welcomed her as her presence grew across Yuggoth without her willing it. The only limits were the barriers and the


    primeval planet belly was the influence of mightier deftly blockaded hers.


    "I, Isha, shall follow the Dark King, history to be forgiven but not forgotten as the branches of life diverge. May we free him as he did for us from a fate most horrific through our loyalty and power and honor our debt by serving under his divine rule. Do you accept our vow?" The Goddess declared, her voice soft, sincere, hopeful yet hard and resolute.


    "Isn''t that a bit of an over-dramatic display?" The ''Dark King'' mused aloud, causing his audience, well subject now, to look almost offended and very nervous, at least all for those who weren''t Cegorach, "But I earnestly accept, though our eldest brother would be heavily displeased. Not that it changed a great deal, truthfully."


    "What is your edict, oh Your Dark Majesty?" The Great Harlequin asked as he stood up, his tone light and with a hint of playful sarcasm that made the Avatar barely hold off a scoff.


    It was evident this was the clown''s scheme, one among thousands more the Archdjinni of the Rings could barely fathom. Or wanted to, for the majority were overly complicated and unnecessarily fragile, their ingenuity and success rate of little effect to change his opinion.


    He preferred to be direct and honest; half-truths and abuse of loopholes were merely an extension of it. Righteousness wasn''t his forte.


    There was little shame in admitting the stark contrast in intellect regarding the innumerable facets of life. These aspects of deceit, trickery, and manipulation weren''t what Hoopa excelled in.


    Leading an average mortal or mortals by the nose without force was easy, but controlling their every thought, action, and movement for a practical joke to be done on their descendants millennia later by a series of amusing coincidences was of an entirely different realm. They were birthed to complement one another; redundancy was present, but only to an extent.


    And he would happily play on the board for all the jester''s intelligence and wisdom. His path was in the light, and his ultimate goal was predictable. Joy, amusement, and safety were what he sought, oh so mortal in essence but common among the divine of a sane mind.


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    "Wait a bit, brother. R????E???L????E????A????S????E???!" Hoopa said, psychic energy crackling around his form, showing his artificial veins and nerves, and with both palms wide open closing, a resounding crack was heard from the Golden Gate as it crumbled to ashy dust. The high altitude did the rest as the breeze blew the portal into the cold mountains.


    At the same time, in a different place, a similar construct suffered the same fate, turning to its most primal components. Still, compared to the first, they lit up in countless colors and shades, creating an exquisite shifting tapestry. Each glint resulted from a denatured particle adorned by hundreds of master-crafted runes. They pulsed one time, then two, three, four, five, and at the sixth¡­ they all at once detonated, birthing a magical conflagration with the power to turn a world to glass.


    "The clock is now ticking." The only Avatar let out, frowning heavily, the gravity of the statement heavy, "My first order is simple: defend Yuggoth in my stead while I support you."


    And with that, Hoopa vanished through a ring, leaving the four Aeldari Gods behind, for at his state, his portals couldn''t support the strain of warping beings of such powers. However, his mastery of the Wandering Planet was great, and so his voice came from everywhere at once.


    "Be careful and mindful. The goal is not to win through sacrifice but to deter them. Bring out your equipment at the moment of exit for me to bless them in darkness. If all fail, retreat and let me handle the rest."


    Cegorach was the first to go, with a burst of giggles escaping as his non-existent legs morphed into existence before becoming metal springs. And he flung himself with them, leaving behind confetti.


    The one following right after was Lileath, a vaguely exasperated and amused expression on her features as she flew right after him. She rapidly caught up to him with rapid flaps of her wings for a strange garish fake flower on his chest to propel a glittery purple jelly on her face.


    "Uncle!" Outrage was short-lived as she reoriented herself to the present and merely willed the gunk out of existence, deciding to ignore the clown, all the while increasing her velocity.


    "My love, was this the right choice?" The Merciful Mother asked her Consort, her feet leaving the ground with his hooves as both followed their daughter and brother through a bridge of vegetation. Her tears flowing below and wherever they fell formed an oasis of life in its purest form.


    "I hope so. I dearly hope with all my being. There is no walking back or regret permitted with our choice of today. No forgiveness to be earned." Kurnous told calmly, his voice a relaxing rumble and bestial purr, "A new king for a new chapter of a hopefully eternal fair reign."


    The only sins Asuryan had committed was overdoing his kindness and patience, which had also been his greatest strength. His progressive and unstoppable fall to dementia did little in his favor as well. And Hoopa was of different clothes. Neither were incomparable, but the recently crowned Dark King was of a nature closer to the Bloody-Handed God in many aspects but colder, far colder, yet no less passionate and sinister at heart.


    Alas, there was no alternative from a factual, emotional, or moral standpoint. Hoopa had freed them no matter his past act of great betrayal of their Mother. At this very moment, he had them avoid their tragic destiny, and by this choice they have taken to accept, tearing the Pantheon apart came with a price.


    For all their strength and capabilities, they weren''t all-powerful, and enemies were omnipresent as such a warden and guide was necessary for their survival. And this warden and guide was in a new Godking.


    It was a trap they themselves had set in motion, or so the godly couple believed. And in many ways, it was.


    Reaching their destination, Isha and Kurnous did as instructed, the former willing a spear of minimal yet intricate design ending in a tear-shaped blade with an ethereal pink ribbon. Her Consort''s weapon was incredibly crude in comparison; it was an aged, well-taken care wooden quarterstaff adorned with a few white runes of meaning lost to time.


    The skyline flashed, and a film of pure darkness impregnated itself over their weapons, armor, and bodies, flashing away soon after as if it had never happened. It was a fragment of the shields, imbued to serve as protection and alarm if the worst happened¡ªa worthy sacrifice from Hoopa''s viewpoint with the inconsequential price.


    The last defense was breached, and the two Aeldari Gods joined the first two, now hundreds of perfect mirror images of their daughters, making it impossible for them to tell who was real or imitation. The absence of Cegorach signaling the clown was either one of the lifelike puppets or hidden away in his illusion.


    The rattling of his cackle at their arrival made it even harder to pinpoint his location, if even in one place, and it was the sign for the battle to begin.


    "FIRE!" He screamed mid laughter, and the arrows were let, a hundred golden stars in ever-rising numbers zipping across the chaotic water of the Sea of Souls toward the conglomeration of the vilest, most tortured souls, ideas, and concepts born of wars, diseases, and treachery.


    Wails of despair and joy, cries of maddening rage and bloodlust, caws of ever-changing tones and emotions rippled. The endless torrent of rot, pestilence, life, death, hate, war, blood, honor, change, ambition, sorcery, knowledge, and fate, given daemonic forms of flesh, blood, and bone, poured like a tidal wave of never-seen scale since millions of years past.


    They ran, swam, flew, and dug in the non-Euclidean realm toward the four Gods, uncaring for their future as their Dark Masters extended their power beyond their realms in a united assault, an entire portion of their true self on the battlefield. Their gazes, promises, cries, laughter, touches, and encouragement were a source of elation, terror, rage, and much more, no matter their ranks and creeds.


    From the jolly rotund, diseased, and rotted carcass of the beloved Great Unclean Ones of Papa Nurgle to the modest and maddened Pink Horrors of Tzeentch and mindlessly rageful Daemon Prince of Khorne cursed from infancy by metallic claws digging deeply into his brain and yet to be artificially born. They all joined and fought as one chaotic, uncoordinated swarm.


    The endless tide drowned the four forgotten deities even amid the fiery rains, whose catastrophic damages were nothing more than the last defiant strike of cornered beasts. Or so it should be¡­ the atmosphere of the Dark Planet came to life as lines and circles drew themselves into familiar yet mysterious patterns not even the wisest Lord of Change understood.


    Nothing was done and could have been done to stop them from reaching completion, and so they did, and little changed, causing a roar of mockery, displeasure, and relief in the daemonic horde of Chaos.


    But they never were the target. The Warp changed where they were not, and the tainted psychic energy was absorbed from there and countless more through the assistance of backdoors in the Labyrinthine Dimension known as the Webway. It was all transported by temporary connections, then processed by the Blackstone Fortresses and freed into its purest form, taking the shape of intertwined white and dark purple threads.


    In a show, the only survivor of the last episode of the War in Heaven, the psychic threads tethered themselves to the Aeldari Gods, true or imaginary, and the one at the epicenter stopped crying for the first time in eon.


    Her visage, the expression of perfect beauty to any eyes beholding her, a visage that in another time and place would have become the loved toy of one of the three Chaos Gods, shifted minutely. It was small and unnoticeable by many, but it had been the source of emotion among the Silver Tide, a primal fear beings robbed of their souls shouldn''t experience¡ªthe fault of her youngest brother''s imagination and insights.


    Voicelesly for they deserve none to be graced by her attention, Isha tapped the butt of her spear on the branch she stood on, and irreality unfolded as her authority was known to the usurpers. Life and Nature were her domain, and so a reminder was needed. Normally, she wouldn''t act in such a way, even to creatures as unworthy as Daemons of the Ruinous Powers, but this wasn''t a normal time.


    A happy and plump young Nurgling freshly born of the festering wound of his bestest and biggest friend, a Great Unclean One, blinked, his humming about dancing in Grandpa''s magnificent garden stopping as he stared in uncomprehension at his little clawed hand where a nubby finger had fallen off.


    Confusion was short-lived, and pain exploded as his hand necrosed. Soon, it was his short, chubby arm, and his high-pitched squeal of absolute terror ended. A root had penetrated his belly button and proliferated through his chest until it popped out his eyes like morbid flower pots where airborne seeds busted to spread themselves.


    Not far away, a Changeling was desperately trying and failing to alter her appearance, to heal herself and cut the cancerous growth from the body gifted to her by her Lord.


    Yet all her efforts were for naught as the arm holding her shaft mutated against her will into a delicate feminine hand that harshly grasped her head. And with a deceiving appearance, the dainty hand popped her head like a balloon while her corpse was swiftly devoured by the great flowering tree the nearby Great Unclean One had been killed by through parasitism.


    Similarly close by, a squadron of Bloodletters and a Bloodthirster were locked in place by serrated bones piercing their flesh, and their unearthly screeches were silenced by a river of blood snaking itself in their noses, mouths, and ears among other orifices until their skin distended. Their essence was extinguished with their organs crushed within as they exploded into a gory shower of meat.


    This scene of biomancy put into effect was repeated by the thousands, each time with a disparate flavor of divine irony.


    The Blood God roared in fury, silencing the battlefield as he acted first. His heavily muscled body-clad flaming armor disappeared, illusory afterimage left behind in his blind charge. Everything in his line of sight from his target was annihilated. Daemons or winged puppets were shredded in equal parts as his great cleaver felled on the unmoving Goddess of Love to bisect her cleanly.


    Then, a cloven hoof slammed into his head, shattering half of the helmet yet barely affecting the momentum of the Lord of Skulls. The tale rhymed differently for trajectory, and the howling Chaos God was thrown onto the dark shields'' first layer, where his scream took a tune of pain with the ever-rising rage, bloodlust, and excitement.


    "Back away! Mindless creature." The Lord of the Beasts bellowed, one of his hooves still in the air, yet he never let his attention wane for one moment. The battle had only begun, one where their victory was assured, yet where they lost for the cost to their foe is negligible. A fact not shared with them.

 50. Bright Sharding

    Silently hovering above one of the enumerable gilded bridges crossing an endless abyss of impossible design was a lithe metallic creature of bronze and cobalt with four thin tentacle-like arms, two on each side curling together yet never touching and a pair of stilt-shaped legs barely discernible from one another.


    Its featureless face let no emotions show as the terrifyingly frigid cold black dot that was its eyes in a sea of pure white trailed over the grand dark, nothing around the bridge, looking for something.


    "Ah¡­Fount it." It, no, he said, voice distinctively masculine yet artificial. The two left arms morphed into a hand grasping at the air.


    "What is it you need, Lord Hoopa? If I may ask, what is happening?" To his right, another artificial being teleported in a flash of sickly green light, far rougher in appearance and with a skeletal head that somehow showed a great deal of facial expression despite the lack of muscles and mechanical parts.


    "First, a creature you are deeply connected to, Trazyn." The Avatar of Hoopa, Danxama, chuckled darkly, sending mental shivers through the Overlord''s non-existent spine.


    "As your second query¡­ Chaos has come knocking at our doorsteps, and I flicked the first domino in response." He mysteriously explained, which didn''t satisfy the ancient Necron''s endless curiosity. Still, he perfectly knew, despite the barely contained rage in the air, that he could continue to ask questions without risking deletion.


    That was one of the major differences between this new master and the last; one was reasonable and would not only listen but consider what was said. Counted it wasn''t nonsense or plain unexplainable disobedience, for the former not much would be done besides light curses as ''pranks'' but the latter¡­ it was better not speak about the latter.


    "The three Primal Malignant Manifestations of the Empyrean have acted? I remember them after skimming through the ongoing attack. Then is that why you are here? And what is that ''domino'' you speak of, Lord Hoopa?" Trazyn asked calmly, yet the tension was evident.


    He may not be the most knowledgeable on the lore of these entities, but he understood the scales involved and to what cataclysmic scenarios it was related with its solutions. Not something unique to him, the Chaos Gods were understood across the Ark of Life as its highest threat, a controlled environment, knowledge, and faith enough of a shield for now.


    "Oh no, don''t fret my dear automaton. I have my brothers, sister, and niece managing this hurdle with my assistance in the backline. If you want, I can even send you recordings and data of the battle. As for the domino, a human game composed of little plates placed one after the other, flicking leads to a chain reaction, if you see. From now on, plans are hasted, and time is counted." Hoopa explained in an upbeat tone, opposite to his current robotic form.


    "As such, I''m not here for that. Little is here that would have a superior effect than what is already present. But as I said, I need to accelerate things up a bit." He added, twisting his hand, and the void rippled, reality unfolding as from the skyless heaven, an object that couldn''t exist in the lower layer of real space appeared.


    A hypersphere at first glance, one Trazyn recognized for they were used as the highest level detainment chamber and far superior to the greatest Tesseract Labyrinth in their capacity to hold entities.


    It was a blatantly bastardized rip-off of the Necron''s original design, and it was one of the scariest aspects of the Archdjinni of the Rings. He didn''t see a problem in stealing and readapting the tools of his enemies. It wasn''t unique per se, but the only other one who did this was his brother Vaul, and the latter was far more discreet and generally was of the mind to invent better technologies. Or try at the very least.


    "Emberesh¡­" The Necron Overlord hissed with barely contained enmity, revulsion, and sadistic satisfaction at the utterly pathetic sight of the dreadful Suneater. She was one among the C''tan that had ''mysteriously'' disappeared a scant few decades after Hoopa''s birth.


    "Ah, memories¡­ one of the rare good times in that horrible period." The Aeldari God sighed, his metallic hand trailing over the terrified, vaguely arachnid visage of the complete yet starved Star God. It was an expression feat for mortals and one that had been broken and rebuilt again, and again, and again and again.


    Yet there was no obedience or submissiveness still; it was a scared animal whose instincts to flee had dominated every aspect of its being. It was why these creatures weren''t let loose¡ªor spoken to for diplomacy, though that was far gone at this point.


    They couldn''t be controlled; their minds¨Ctheir equivalents of it, that is¨Cweren''t close to that of anything else, and by their nature, they would rebound to their original state of existence, thoughtless, cruel, and ever-hungry predators of the living for souls they would never possess. Hoopa had made sure of that; truly, he did. He could be considered the foremost expert on their species. It''s how he created his spell for them; brute force would not have sufficed, and it always was relaxing.


    Enslavement was out from the get-go as well. Besides the God of Magic''s obsession and loathing of it, enslavement has repeatedly shown in the past to fail catastrophically. No matter the measure involved, the Star Gods themselves and the Old Ones were the most remarkable examples.


    Also, the main reason why the development of True Artificial Intelligence was strictly forbidden in regard to using them as tools, and even then, it was heavily restricted. The small population of Necron gathered through Trazyn and Orikan''s efforts stayed as the only ''non-living'' entities regularly allowed for it to be a temporary state.


    That didn''t mean the C''tan didn''t see uses such as materials and catalysts or batteries by healing and replenishing their energy by heavily monitoring the flow of soul-stuff substitutes. Still, they were too delicate and risky in most cases even then.


    And if a C''tan was somehow tamed, it might have shown disappointing results. Aeldari were no weaklings, and the Star Gods remaining were less than stellar examples of strength for their kinds, and they were immensely enfeebled. The cost to restore them to their primes for the results wasn''t worth it as well, beyond the certainty of it going berserk, rightfully so, not that it mattered.


    But today was different, far different. It wasn''t a soldier or functional weapon that was needed. Quite the contrary, Hoopa was going to use it eventually, however, well in better form, but his plans had shifted.


    "I require your service, and your accord is unimportant." The Devil''s baleful smile could be heard, his free arms extended, and as they formed a hand, dark chains manifested, the same that were binding Emberesh and nullifying her strength.


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    Tightening his hold, they dug into the dark, monstrous body of necrodermis, sizzling the false flesh as they did so like animal fat on flame if, in this case, the animal was alive and screeching in agony. The broad smile of predatory teeth present on Hoopa''s true face went unseen as the Avatar increased its hold, minutely and carefully manipulating the chains as if carving a clay status.


    For that was it was. And in a scant few moments, Emberesh the Suneater was gone, in her place an array of chained screaming fragments of unstable shape and density. Like a puppet on strings, Hoopa controlled them, shuffling them around until only a tenth of the original number remained. The rest were secured away in the lower cage level, where they were put into stasis.


    Then he freed the rest, and conflict exploded the next second into a cannibalistic fest, shards mindlessly rushing at one another, damaging themselves and their targets as they feasted. It was a quick battle with no winner but the remaining shard, one quite close in appearance to the Suneater, and he chained it back.


    Very lightly feminine with a number of features seen in arthropods such as arachnids, the greatest distinction was the fiery cracks leaking murky grey energy. It wasn''t the personification of beauty, not that Emberesh ever was, but the Shard of the Suneater was verifiable inferior in every way.


    Of course, Hoopa didn''t care, but it was an observation all the same and a common occurrence when shattering a C''tan, which could be reversed by letting all shards eat each other with an adequate amount of energy.


    Regardless, he was satisfied with the result. It was powerful, yet not so much, a perfect domino for him to flick. Honestly, he would have preferred to let his plan unfold organically, but the chance of an all-out war with the rest of the Pantheon would destroy his every plan and change everything.


    It wasn''t a matter of winning or losing, even if he held doubt on that front. His siblings, while individually weaker than the trio of Psychic Tumors and weakened, remained bonafide Gods and were infinitely more capable and not restrained to the Warp. A wild card like Khaine changed little, for he would heed his Consort''s words.


    The Aeldari Empire was nothing in comparison.


    He was pissed, to say the least. Pissed always to be the one to react despite his proactive nature and countermeasures, his patience had reached its limit, but he couldn''t let emotions guide his actions.


    "Trazyn, do you desire to be part of the honored few who have witnessed the humble beginning of one of the greatest entities that will ever grace this terrible galaxy, the Numen of Light?" He grandly let out, and a golden ring appeared before the C''tan Shard, thanks to his second Avatar.


    "With pleasure, Lord Hoopa."


    "Excellent!" And with a loud clap of his hands, the Shard of the Suneater was freed and, with fury equal to a khornate berserker, rushed through the portal without care if it was a trap. Not that it had the mental capacity to conceive such a thing or anything else aside from anger, but it was a sad existence if what it was originally part of was ignored.


    A few hours prior that, on Earth, two strange men were trudging in the snow far from any desert and arid terrain they usually advanced on, their emplacement close to a forest that would be central in a tale surrounding a round table, inbred royalty, and magical swords stuck in stone.


    The biting cold and harsh wind did little to disturb them beyond the extremities of their clothes and hair as the duo pressed onward into the said forest, one where winter seemed to have forgotten to exist. Whichever was the oddest was anyone''s guess.


    "The locals'' truth is factual." The taller and most muscular of the two stated matter-of-factly, his companion fiddling with his beard nodded sagely.


    "Indeed, that is quite the mystical forest before us¡­" Oll trailed off, his eyes passing briefly over sinister gazes aimed at them and the childish giggling that followed, "It''s a place I do not wish to stay longer than necessary."


    "I agree¡­ Those are the ''Fey'' spoken so darkly of?" Enkidu pondered aloud, advancing fearlessly in the dense forest, plants, and fungus that didn''t exist anywhere else in the hundreds, as were the sounds no natural-born animals could make.


    "They are¡­ Disappointing." He telekinetically grabbed a strange purple humanoid creature with a small butterfly wing and a maw full of spinning fangs, then slowly crushed its head through the same way he caught it. Eyes, skull fragments, and brain matter smashed against his psychic shield as the still-moving yet soon-to-be-dead body fell and looked for a head that didn''t exist anymore.


    "Their purpose isn''t to stop you, after all," Oll refuted, unamused by the younger Perpetual, exasperated by the oozing arrogance and blindness, "I don''t have your psychic talent, but I can see those creatures are unnatural and well crafted, do you not?"


    "They are, but that doesn''t change my verdict. Hmm, and why must we be here? You seemed pressed as of late. With your brother searching for us, going to your sister''s domain when both are allied is unwise, if not stupid. Wouldn''t it be preferable to wait and find a way to open the box?" Another Fae, this time with the body of a skinned infant with sharp claws and beetle wings, was burned in a golden flame.


    Its soul-wrenching wails, akin to a baby agonizing, could be heard by everything in half a kilometer, alerting the entire forest. It was soon followed by the sounds of buzzing wings, giggles, whispers, hisses, and countless more coming their way.


    But they were unfazed.


    "A plan no matter how well you die at first contact, sometimes even before, young one. And we won''t be opening the box for millennia, I fear, millennia we don''t have. Oh, thanks to you, stealth is impossible¡­" The First Perpetual explained nothing, though there wasn''t any explanation to give.


    He agreed with Enkidu. Otherwise, it wasn''t as if the box containing the ring wasn''t warded in a pocket realm deep in the relaxing waves of the Sea of Souls, but it was a reckless ordeal all the same. Studying the box longer until they cracked it open or killed one of the two looking for it was preferred. As unlikely as it may have been, it was safer, not that the lack of safety ever was a problem.


    But it came from above, and he obeyed. However, he had noted that it was strange.


    "Stealth would have never worked anyway." The younger one argued as he lazily lifted a finger, and all around them, interwoven burning strings of light manifested, carbonizing the genecrafted swarm like the insects they were.


    Hours passed as the duo advanced deeper, the fairy swarm stopping at some point; the forest turned into a flowering valley of short trees and bushes where the Sun shined brightly, bringing the warmth of summer upon a winter-stricken land. Their march went on another hour until they stopped at the sight of an immaculately crystal-clear lake.


    It was a magnificent sight where, below its calm surface, the realm of this world and its fantastical sister seemed to merge. A surface that was no more than an illusion for the ones ignorant of the arcane if not for a man taller than any other standing at the edge.


    His body was of perfection incarnate, imagined by the mortal mind as uncanny as beautiful. He wore a gilded pointed helmet ending in a long, flowing, feathery plume. His torso was bare, showing glowing runes and glistening tanned skin, with only a gladiator skirt as a garment for modesty¡ªthe two pieces of the very open armor of pure gold.


    The unknown man, taller than two men at once, turned slowly to the two intruders, and a halberd appeared in his hand. Then he moved, faster than any man at right to, tip of his weapon at Enkidu''s heart, who barely dodged a faint smile present.


    "Interesting." He mused, dodging another strike aimed at his head and hundreds more in the following seconds, "How were you made?"


    At those words, the fight ended, and the man was pushed to the ground on his knees, the psychic pressure strong enough to shatter stones only able to crack bones and pop blood vessels. Alas, the younger Perpetua''s bright curiosity went unsatisfied as the man''s tattoos glowed and the psychic power suppressing him worked less and less.


    "Stop playing." Oll sighed, taking out a weapon of design alien to this time period. Runes of Enuncia slowly lit up across its barrel until a low hum was heard, and he pressed the trigger. There was only a visceral scream of pain as the silent hypersonic beam of dark and white light reached its target, turning the scantily dressed genecrafted man into fine powder.


    "I thought you passed away! What a relief! And what toy is this, brother?" An intrigued voice echoed as the valley changed. At the same time, an army of similarly artificial men appeared, physically normal but physically gifted humans and creatures of stones teleported in neat ranks. It was an old animated woman, her tiara as shining as her eyes upon the scene before her, her question aimed at the one dressed in garishly yellow attire.


    The lack of an immediate answer soured her mood immensely, but it wasn''t the case for the one hovering to her right, an old man the Perpetuals below had seen and had run away from.


    "Dahut, I present to you the two who have stolen from us." Shinar, the Architect of the Tower of Babel, exclaimed to his sister, the Queen of Ys.


    "I can see how you were fooled¡­" She softly giggled, eying Enkidu in particular, "It''s quite an unconventional reunion with two of us into one bo-"


    Her words never came to an end as the Sun disappeared as if devoured by an ancient beast of nightmare, with a soulful screech of despair ringing a primordial presence settled in the air¨Cfreezing and burning at the same time¨Cas existential dread and terror settled deep into the hearts of all.


    The last domino was placed, and now they would fall in place with one little flick.

 51. Light in the Darkness

    Darkness swallowed every trace of light from the vast clearing of an equally vast forest, the army of genecrafted men and golem vanishing into the shadow, leaving only four in the light of the sunless day.


    The Architect of the Tower of Babel was the first to voice his uncomprehension; he wasn''t the first to get his bearing, however, and his words and demeanor were in drastic opposition to his usual self.


    "Wha-what is happening?!" He cried out, reeling back at the horrific sight above and beyond any he had ever seen physically. It was mockingly pitiful compared to the presence of Shahar, the Lord of the Dawn, but everything was in the face of this mysterious entity, a True God for all intent and purpose.


    But the infinitely weaker nature of this didn''t change that instead of a mouse before a world, he was a mouse before an elephant. Or that was how he felt: impossible to grasp victory, run, or bargain.


    Then, from the darkness, a crooked bestial hand ending with twisted claws oozing alien energy slithered, the arm it belonged following an equally unearthly appearance. It was the first arm of many, eight to be exact. The last pair at the bottom was more akin to legs if the claws were to be ignored.


    It had an enormous insectoid body adorned in zagged cracks and fissures oozing eldritch energy across chitinous leathery skin that was neither. It had one more limb, a long, spindly, prehensile tail that ended in a chaotic series of sharp serrated spines leaking a substance that seemed to eat through time and space themselves like an ordinary acid would paper not changing this perception.


    But the part that shattered the illusion of barest normalcy of this utterly alien being of neither flesh, arcane, and soul, the true part that marked it as an abomination. It was the visage revealed by the opening of eight squirming chelicerae that had served as a simple face mask, human even from a certain angle.


    However, the void that was its pair of eyes crying liquefied, solidified, vaporized, ionized matters that shouldn''t exist in this plane of reality, the absence of a nose and the maw where arms and tongues wiggled in the black hole that was its throat.


    "This can''t be!" Dahut cried out with wide eyes, recognition flashing in her features as knowledge of history had been her focus when speaking to Shahar, so she knew of the creature before her. Or so she believed, even if it wasn''t a one-on-one to the cutthroat description and galactic tale she bargained for, a Ygnir, a Star God, a cosmic horror that shouldn''t be imprisoned or assimilated back into the Laws of Reality, it was leeching off.


    "I fear that it very much can." Down on the ground, Oll, or Ollanius as he was known by the two above, declared drily, "Or have you let the fine prints be unread? That''s unwise."


    His words reached his younger immortal counterparts, who smiled faintly, yes indeed, the fine prints were of major importance. Despite his spotty memories of lives that had been his yet not, he instinctively understood their importance and how many of the ones that composed his greater whole had made fools of themselves.


    There was little anger; however, the opposite, elation, was blooming, but he waited for the family drama to end. It was pretty entertaining. Until then, he would prepare, plan, and study the visibly unstable and wounded abomination as it seemingly acclimated to its environment. And what if he attacked first, and the promising fight was cut short?


    "You seem far too calm. Is that a trap, Ollanius? I knew of your cowardly nature, yet this reached an unprecedented new low." Shinar returned to a reasonable state of mind¨Cextremely frightened by the existential threat above but functional¨Ccalled as he quickly hovered down, his white robe and beard billowing.


    Spells upon spells were weaved around his body, mind, and soul to protect him against virtually all attacks while his eyes never left the cosmic invader. His sister, the Queen of Ys, took the quicker if riskier option by simply teleporting in a flash of blue light to the ground, as well as spells interlocking on hers even if they were focused on her garment.


    "No, brother." The First Perpetual chuckled derisively at the pointless accusations. How he wished it was true, his heart told him


    "This isn''t a trap of my design, and I''m as blinded as you are toward this cataclysmic scenario." He clarified soon after, himself preparing even if he would prefer they attacked right away despite the possibility of it all backfiring. But he lacked too much information; any action he might take would fail or have a varying degree of effectiveness, most likely on the lower end.


    It wasn''t pleasant, but that was the unfair reality.


    "Then what of the barrier isolating us from the world?" Shinar proclaimed that he couldn''t access his golem or any of his constructs, and his senses remained. It was a strange barrier. It wasn''t of the arcane; it was almost like a dimensional pocket, yet they remained on the planet. The armies outside were in vain, trying to reach their masters.


    "If we could create such a contraception, we wouldn''t have run away when we borrowed from you." Enkidu said bluntly to the ancient wizard, and he added with a snark, "Unless a childish battle of who is the culprit is one you bravely want to wage war in, I suggest we change tunes. Or would you prefer to pass on with a satisfied ego?"


    "Indeed, the same is true for fleeing. If such options were on our side, we would have used them far sooner." Oll continued, his demeanor as casual as ever, yet no hint of a lie was present. Though Shinar was right, it was a trap, if it may be called that, but the trapper was neither of the Perpetuals'' making.


    "I fear they are right despite the mysteries left unanswered, Shinar. It''s not the time for clashing blades. I propose an alliance of interest. The terms are as follows: we shall not maliciously harm one another in any way until we end this threat. Are those acceptable?" Dahut stated warmly as if her willingness for peace had always been there.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Alas, they had wasted much time, and any possibilities of further planning as they agreed to the Queen of Ys'' words were drowned by the resounding wail from the Shard of the Suneater, whose body flashed for one instant and rematerialized right before Oll. A massive clawed hand reached toward his head.


    "S???H???A???T???T???E???R???!" He commanded hastily, pushing the deadly limb far enough for him to evade. Yet it was only one attack of many forcing him to chain his words of Enuncia as the unholy beast persecuted him and only for some maddening reasons despite the three others following attacks.


    The ground, grass, tree, underbrush, and even the air shifted, transmuted into projectiles that flew at a speed far beyond that of the keenest raptor eye''s perception. Hundreds of tons of raw psychically transformed material slamming full force slammed full force onto the Ygnir side, forcing the beast of age past to stumble.


    Light erupted from Enkidu''s form as he vanished, psychic power multiplying his strength and speed to level fat beyond the human realm as he weaved effortlessly through the Shinar''s ceaseless assault. Their bulk and that he wasn''t the target with his sight of what would be mainly thanked for. As to the words of Enuncia, he held no fear of being a target, and he had protection in the advent of such a possibility.


    In his hands, a flaming sword manifested. Each of his slashes upon the metallic was that of hundreds movement; each was methodical, powerful, and skillful, and yet all it inflicted were minor scratches barely of effect. The C''tan remained uncaring of their assault, barely shifting¨Cas if they were mere insects¨Cyet its own remained the same, and it was Oll.


    Why the Suneater acted this way remained an enigma. What wasn''t was that it was scared, maniacal, rageful, obsessive, and one-track-minded in an impossible contradiction. Its alien nature did nothing to show this wasn''t unnatural to them, who knew nothing of this creature. Its target wasn''t even the First Perpetual but a particular portion of his chest. A small tattoo darker than the deepest abyss detected a snake curling two times on itself, biting its tail.


    Regardless of this oddity to be heavily interrogated once this fiasco was fixed, Dahut entered the battle, though in a subtler manner. Her family had always taken dramatically different paths in the route of magic. Her dead elder brother''s focus had been the fine arts of artifact crafting, while her dead sister had been the inelegant and boringly one-dimensional act of pure destruction.


    For Shinar, it was sculpting and architecture, and as for it was the highest,  most noble discipline, genecrafting and, more broadly, biomancy leaning upon supporting her perfect army of lovers. Holding back a scowl of disgust at what she was going to do, she planted a plain white wooden staff in the moist dirt, her grip on it of steel.


    "Please, do not reject my gift." She proclaimed softly, her voice having taken a sudden demure tone and was carried by the wind, reaching the three''s pair of ears simultaneously and with immaculate clarity. It would not do if they were to be taken aback.


    Electric blue and honey-yellow beams of energy shot outward from her staff, pumping raw power into her three allies of convenience. It coursed through their flesh, blood, and bone unimpeded. Their wounds were sealed shut, and vigor and strength flowed in their veins while their every action gained weight. But that wasn''t all. Their psychic might was amplified, and their connection to the Sea of Souls widened.


    The last of which wasn''t done to Ollanius, for it would be pointless. The effects were immediate, and the course of the battle shifted. The mindless abomination was pushed back, its target never changing. But the damages on its body remained negligible.


    Then, in a moment, it took a radical turn for the worst.


    -You may depart from this part of the contract for now.©\ An intoxicatingly beautiful and melodious voice ebbed at the mind of Oll. It was but a brief slip in concentration, a slip that gave a chance for Suneater to land a hit. And what a devastating one it was; the sharp finger shot into the immortal human belly and exploded into a thousand serrated blades.


    -What!?- Oll called back incredulously, a word to unravel reality with the immediate aid of the three others managed to break the limb penetrating his lower belly. His body was racked with agony, only a setback for him. The black spines growing in him were more so thought.


    -Ollanius, outsiders can break plans, and I''m no exception. I''m merely putting the proviso of a clause you have signed into practice. I have made light of what it implied; you shouldn''t be surprised. Though fear not¡­- There was a short pause and a dark chuckle that was incomparably more terrifying than any of the Ygnir hellish wails. It was ecstatic and rageful; thousands of verses and poems could be written from it, and none could ever hope to magnify the sheer presence of it -...your service and willingness will not go unpaid. Oh, and don''t worry about your toys. They won''t be lost or, worse, stolen. A little bonus. Goodbye, my boy!-


    This brief dialog, unknown to all, signified the temporary death of the First Perpetual. No matter her efforts, Dahut couldn''t heal her brother from the hungering necrodermis, nor when his vital shutdown could she resurrect him. His soul escaped her grasp with mocking and a painful sting for her even to dare to do so.


    Their rough formation broke apart, the Shard of the Suneater focus now gone, its eyes less hole gained the barest amount of clarity. An arm snapped outward and grabbed Enkidu by the neck, only to let go as the New Man busted in a wave of psychic power, choosing to retreat wisely.


    Taking a defensive position, he psychically massaged his neck where metallic flakes seemed to grow from the skin he was touched, draining his life to propagate.


    ''Hm. This is bad¡­ hmm maybe not¡­'' He thought calmly, his focus splitting further as he limited the growth. The ''death'' of Oll not shaking him beyond confirming this entire situation was a derailment of the unworded song of fate until now. Enkidu was not blind or ignorant; the one he might call a friend hadn''t come to him for purely benevolent reasons. Not that Oll had denied this possibility.


    A wail rang akin to the demented song of a tortured mother whale after losing her calves. The Ygnir disappeared from sight, then a scream followed, and all eyes landed upon a wide-eyed Dahut. A metallic hand went straight through her dress, crushing her heart. She didn''t die, another heart had been grafted if one were to be lost, but she gasped loudly, blood dripping from her lips as an expression of rage and hate took over her once regal feature.


    But her fiery demeanor vanished in the face of a widening bottomless maw of spinning teeth, fanged tongs, and secondary mouths snapping at the air.


    "UNHAND ME BEA-" Her head and upper torso were swallowed, and with a crunch, the bloody remains of her body fell to the ground. But the prize, the soil, the Shard of the Suneater craved was due by virtue of its superiority like the first time was stolen, seeping through its finger as if both were water.


    No matter; there was more. Its head snapped to Shinar, warping space like a child would snap a twig. It reappeared above the fleeing old psyker, stone upon stone slamming into its arms, head, and chest, shattering the landscape for the millennia to come.


    The efforts proved of little worth, but they were effective¡­ they gained a few more seconds as the Shard advanced against the tidal waves of rocks, their ancient weight pulverized in its presence¡ªas if acknowledging their inferiority.


    This morbid dance of violence went on until the abomination of unliving metal grasped the weary and mortified Architect''s torso, ribs shattering, piercing internals and skin alike as a fate similar to his sister befallen Shinar¡­ or so it should have been as Enkidu''s blade brighter than it had ever been cut halfway through its arm.


    The Suneater howled, grasping at the damaged limbs in confusion¨Cthe soul that had been in its cage on the ground¨Cwhile its foul blood tainting the very essence of life wherever it poured as its frustration grew and grew. Fragmented memories come and disappear in chaotic flashes.


    A time well used by the one who had wounded it. The remaining Perpetual had changed, his body visibly taller, corded muscles bulging where they did not before, and presence that was dearly an inextinguishable Light among the all-over encompassing Darkness for Shinar, a Light that meant Protection, Order, and the Essence of Humanity itself.


    Alas, this Light was far too bright and began to burn him alive, eyes melting and mouth wide open in a silent agonizing scream. Yet he heard the last words of his existence.


    "I thank you for your sacrifice, brother." Enkidu, by his false name void of power, declared, delicately clasping a hand on the scalding feeble man''s trembling, wrinkled visage, and the Architect of the Tower of Babel light of life left.


    And so the last of the Trueborn Psyker ascended per the contract he had signed in his youth, and the boy who would be king became whole.

 52. From Darkness Light is Born

    Today''s events were to be forever etched in the records of Humanity as the Light won over Darkness, the day the Beast of the Apocalypse was sealed away after hours of blades and claws clashing. Remodeling the landscape forevermore and the birthing event of countless legends.


    Or, for me, the day one of my grandest spells reached completion, though in a way that was less than ideal. It was a strange mix of emotions I had, but I was quite dissatisfied. Instead of a mortal ascending to godhood, I had a demi-god one step in and another out, extremely powerful regardless but not the optimal result.


    The Numen of Light was botched but not unfixable with time, yet time is what I lacked.


    It wasn''t a variable I didn''t see coming, and why this didn''t jeopardize my plan. I didn''t put it in the contract for that reason; it wasn''t one of the worst results. Even if godhood had been reached, he would have been, in terms of raw power, in a lower bracket than my weaker family members, powerful but not impossibly so, though with immense growth potential.


    But this change was unwelcome; a nascent God would have significantly helped, yet again, it didn''t change the result for the immediate future. It would just be far more unpleasant for him, but at his core, he was built for that. He would be alright. His incomplete apotheosis would suffice.


    There was another thing.


    We weren''t slaves of our portfolio like the Tumors, but it influenced our state of being at every level. As a God assigned to Darkness, the slowed-down birth of an opposite was paradoxically relieving and frustrating. Asuryan wasn''t like that. Not really. He was Power, Fire, and Wisdom, close and in points parallel but evidently distinct.


    And what I was trying to do had been more than make a God. But it was another thing on top of a pile of frustration. At least the battle in Yuggoth''s orbit was at the moment not won on the way to for the little worth it had. At best, it was a punch in the groin for those three. Anthropomorphization failed in a lot of cases, and this wasn''t different, so the pact of their simulacrum of an ego was a mystery.


    "Lord Hoopa¡­?" The head of Danxama mechanically snapped to Trazyn, a vestige of a flinch came over the Overlord, and I hummed for him to continue.


    "You seem¡­ unhappy."


    "I''m my little automaton. But that''s half of the truth. It''s my childish wish for my idea to go the path I want, but despite all my abilities, I cannot see every shadow or know every road." I let out, observing the glowing gold human, my gaze more than likely not escaping his senses. I wasn''t exactly trying, either.


    "Understand, do you require any more of my presence?" I could hear the ''Okay, I don''t understand, but huzzah, I won''t be erased from existence today'' despite the lack of a mind, expression, or distinct tone of voice to read. There were many reasons why he and Orikan were a favorite of Cegorach beyond the two amusing rivalry and competencies at their jobs.


    "No. You may go. I don''t hold you hostage." I chuckled, and he scurried away, fast, vanishing in a flash of green soon after to the upper layers of the Vault.


    "Aahh¡­ now onto you," I mumbled, studying Enkidu by his false name, standing there, trying and failing to grasp the psychic barrier I had placed since I destroyed it.


    At this instant, he possessed greater raw power than the Avatar I was piloting, but without control and practice, this big number meant nothing. Battles were not solely decided on who could make the biggest, hottest, brightest fireball.


    He was a newborn learning to walk. His psychic might was running wild and uncontrolled in contrast to the start of the day. Nothing a few years can''t fix, but it is definitely a problem in fighting an equally powerful opponent. I doubt he will for a long time. Hopefully, at least, Ollanius is free to do as he pleases and, with my due, would likely be able to prove dangerous.


    But it wasn''t for Enkidu''s capabilities to vaporize mountains I poured such effort into him.


    My curse was peculiar, indeed. A new master was what I needed, and if I betrayed said master, I would be put back in my flask. On paper and at first glance, it was perfect, but it wasn''t. The Flask of Sealing was, for all its strengths, left unfinished by its creator due to an early death and patched up by the frog bitch.


    It was flawed, flaws that led to the darkness in R''lyeh and my abilities to bypass some of its shields. But it wasn''t that it would eventually break that interested me. Again, I didn''t have the time despite the eroding nature of the environment down there. It couldn''t stop any powerful individuals of the Warp from claiming me if the rings were gathered.


    My point was that the curse was vague; she didn''t learn from her mistakes. Certainly, I can''t just declare myself as my own master. The clever bitch made it impossible with the meaning of master she used. Someone who wasn''t me or of my essence.


    But her cleverness was limited. She wasn''t imaginative, too rigid and cold in her thought pattern¡ªthe epitome of irony for the ones who have warred against robots for eons. The point to focus on was the master, and I decided to raise one by proxy in a controlled environment.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But that wasn''t enough. How the Old Ones controlled us¨CAeldari Gods¨Cwasn''t a simple matter of ingrained order and loyalty. Oh, there was plenty of that, yet this played little compared to True Names. The very core of every soul-bearing creature, biological or not.


    Knowing it granted the ability to mold the owner to your will, or so it was the gist. A child learning a Lord of Change''s name and using it won''t have a good end, and it should be for the Old Ones if there weren''t an inbuilt protection for them, a protection that would be given to my hypothetical master.


    ''There, take it.'' I thought, sensing through the box the ring being taken and fiddled with by none other than Enkidu, who midway abandoned trying to locate me and went directly to the magically sealed box.


    It was a reckless action, clearly, to go and play with the alien and potentially cursed ring, but who am I to just? It''s not like he didn''t have a good grasp of what it did, and so he put it on his left index finger.


    From it, a connection between our minds was made. Any defense against telepathy he had was rendered utterly ineffective. Not that this type of defense would have helped since it wasn''t classic telepathy the ring did. It was using the senses of the mind; to deafen it was akin to stopping hearing.


    -And so we finally speak, El Shaddai.- I intoned serenely for answers. I earned a peak of panic accompanied by dread, shortly turning into calm resolution with understanding at me using a fragment of his True Name, one built together from thousands by yours truly.


    -What are you, creature? No, who are you? What do you want? Is that you who orchestrated this series of events?- He shot question after question, many rhetorical, yet each with hundreds of variations in possible answers. But he remained pretty polite despite finding out he couldn''t remove the ring or cut off the body parts it was attached to.


    He should have paid attention when those who served as prime material listened to my explanation of the fine print.


    He didn''t have memories of every soul that had fused to become the bright singularity that he was. It''s to be expected; I didn''t want an insane madman with a multiple personality disorder and more, which would have happened if I did. The mind was a delicate matter.


    He has enough to understand his situation by piecing things together, but it stops there. He lacked a lot. As I promised, a new life with unfathomable power at your fingertips was fair, lore, and mastery of the arcane in your living paid by your soul in death.


    It''s just that people¨Cmortals and ironically or not¨Ctend to be unable to foresee the consequences in the future. Not for my lack of warning, I gave them the freedom of choice. It''s not my fault if they choose the path that benefits me in the long run.


    I wasn''t disingenuous.


    -I''m Shahar, the Lord of Dawn, but this name and title are merely a fragment of a greater whole. It''s the name I told to the mortals of this planet I once upon a time in a different space called home. I''m more widely known as Hoopa.- That was the truth, ''Shahar'' was a minute portion of my True Name distorted beyond comprehension to avoid a sudden head explosion.


    His reaction was quite amusing, but I had plenty more revelation to give. His worldview would change quite a bit.


    -I''m what one might call a God, aspects, and concepts given mind, soul, and form from the Sea of Souls or the Warp as it is known in the wider galaxy to put it into simple terms, though I''m artificial for I''m a weapon older than Humanity itself. My desires are simple: my freedom and the prospering of life, and now the first is to be taken care of.- I explained in as few words as possible.


    -For the last, that is an accurate view of the event.- I let out, and there was a sizable pause where El Shaddai processed what I said, and then his mood quieted to one of absolute calm.


    -I understand¡­ Father. What is my purpose?- I paused at this appellation. From a certain angle, it wasn''t wholly inaccurate; I created him and engineered his birth. But at best, I was a builder, and he was a means to an end, not a son in any way. That he has other uses as a guardian and guide to humans was of no consequence to the above.


    ''Let''s wait and see¡­'' I frowned, unsure of how to effectively respond so I would deflect. It would rock the boats around the family; that was only a matter of time until they learned of his existence, and ultimately, I cared little. Ignoring that, then.


    -None. Those are for you to find and not mine to implant. You are not a child nor my slave nor a tool, but the debt must be repaid.- I intoned to him, -The ring must be joined to its five counterparts upon the looped bottle to free me.-


    -I will be your guide in this journey.- I added with finality. It wasn''t a proposition. He had no alternative but to accept, for it was something he willingly agreed to do, and I was thorough, far more than Cthylla ever was.


    But after this, little El was free to do what he wished. For now, he had to be good at doing his part of the bargain; otherwise, I would use force¨Calso in the contract¨Cto make myself clear. As I said, I was thorough. I revised alternatives upon alternatives of how it could and would go. Every word and its synonymous counterparts were used with that singular goal in mind: to attain freedom.


    ?????


    "My apology for this impromptu meeting." Vileth, the Cardinal Gospel, leading Dark Muse and final authority of the Aeldari Empire, called with an alien air of tension around him from his luxurious chair of living flesh. The infinite view of Commorragh''s obscene beauty and wealth from the highest spire, he was doing little to reduce the pressure in the air.


    His audience of four stood silent, the absence of two Dark Muses evident to all.


    "Is the recent disappearance of my venomous baby why you summoned us?" Lhilitu asked lazily, falling on a couch, her movement gracious and sensual, contrary to her displeased voice of someone having lost a mildly important toy. She was enraged, but she remarkably hid it.


    "Not directly, and as to that point, you can consider him forever lost. He became sloppy and arrogant and paid the ultimate price. Speaking of¡­ Urien, how is Qa''leh doing, as she showed positive results?" Valeth asked the youngest of their members, a faint smile that promised great and many horrors, but to the good doctor, that had no effect beyond a giggle.


    "The Mistress of Blades is physically well, but the damage to her ethereal existence is extensive-" The Prophet of Flesh was cut short by a rageful Hekatii, the one who had been with Qa''leh the moment of the injury, "She is dead in spirit until further notice."


    "Uwaaa, disappointing. At least she was funny." Lhilitu piped in with crocodile tears, showing the world how devastated she was, and if her acting were seen through here, none in the realm of mortals would be none the wiser.


    "Vileth, should I prevent those two deaths from spreading? The faith is burning, but the slow war had quite its impact on our followers." Putting on standby levitation a fragment of those frustrating massive portals the Mon''Keigh Coalition was so fond of, Ynesth manifested a hard light tablet connecting her to every cosmic body under the rules of the Aeldari Empire¡ªmore precisely, the systems and knowledge within.


    "Hmmm¡­ We will speak of that later. I have invited you to reveal the revelation of my vision. I''m delighted to inform you that the time of the Rise and the Fall is upon us!" Vileth exclaimed with a maddening smile and eyes, emotions that were spread among the Dark Muses.


    "Vily, is this real?! What excellent news!" The Consort of the Void clamored, standing upright, blood trickling from her right arm where she dug her fingers.


    "Indeed it is! What a fabulous time to be alive and witness perfection incarnate grace our lowly flawed existence with his divine presence!" The Red Crone agreed with far more zeal.


    "Ah, fantastic! Then, we shall begin the first phase, I presume? Our marked population must be brought to the primordial Maiden Worlds." The Dark Lady of Ash said more to herself than Vileth.


    Urien Rakarth, for his part, stood smiling; there was no need for words, only action.

 53. The Beginning of the End

    A workshop could be seen within a grand chamber of scintillating stone and ephemeral metal bathed under the light of an actual constellation if such a meager word could begin to describe it. For it was no ordinary workshop, befitting of its station as the centerpieces of this room beyond the understanding of the mortal mind.


    To its leftmost corner was an impossible array of what appeared to be flasks, containers, tubes, and support of all kinds reminiscent of equipment for chemistry, yet not for it was more, far more and closer to alchemy and beyond. Iridescent liquid dripped from one pipe to solidify into a pure white crystal of a thousand facets in another as it worked on its own for the most part. Smooth humanoids of a material superior to the finest Aeldari wraithbone danced, manning its most delicate part in an eternal ballet.


    In its opposite direction, passing by an array of other portions from the more modest woodworking of wood older than entire species to weaving in the form of an impossible machine of stellar thread, was a sweltering forge taller than mountains of a metal darker than any black hole. Its maddening oppressiveness swallowed any blinding light and destructive heat that would leak from the stars contained within as their energy thrummed.


    But the centerpiece was of a less extravagant nature despite being made of flowing gold floating in stasis shaped to represent an anvil, for that was it, an anvil. The thunderous sound of metal against not below the loudness of continental plates slamming against one another echoed as a hammer of pure gold fell upon the anvil.


    Each strike was of skill, precision, and technique rivaled only by a long-since deceased Great Old One, for none was equal to the wielder of this hammer, and no one would ever be.


    Fury and hope in equal measure fueled the divine motion of the Aeldari God of Craftsmanship, Smith, and Artisan as he worked tirelessly. The illusory fiery chain melded to his soul and tied forever more to the anvil, clanking with the rhythm of his soulful blow upon one of the components he had been ordered to craft by his King.


    But also in a far more heated manner by Khaine, whose blinding rage he could hear from here despite the Bloody-Handed God being kept in a secure formation by said God''s Consort, the Three-Headed Goddess, Morai-Heg.


    It was a rage equal only to the time of the betrayal. A shivering shudder almost destabilized Vaul from the memories, but he kept on. This task given to him was not merely an order he was following but the fate of the galaxy, and so he hammered on working on what the Betrayer had built to rescue his equally traitorous brother, in the process lying, confusing, and manipulating Isha, Kurnous, and their daughter to do the same.


    There was no other alternative.


    ''Despicable creatures. Death and despair await you in the hand of your true masters.'' He internally spat, vigor growing with each strike as emotions fueled him, yet burning deep was twisted satisfaction of what he always knew.


    Hoopa''s betrayal from his disposition and behavior had always been a matter of when Vaul knew of it. His words, going unheard at the time, changed little. The same was true for Cegorach, but the latter had always been far smoother and more discreet, even if it escaped his vigilant senses at times, to his immense shame. But the Great Harlequin was that good, for all the terrifying prospect it could and had led to.


    But the scheming brothers'' skills were not in creation and engineering, and so from the moment the portal to the outside of the Celestian Enclave became self-destructive, he began to tinker. It was¡­ an interesting device. The readings it left and the echoes in time and space revealed that Hoopa created the design and used his authority from his prison to maintain it.


    It was simple, so simple in fact that the Forgebound was confident in assuming they were made to be operated by mortals of no particular exceptionality, a flaw that was a feature and now a weakness despite the clever but ultimately futile. Not that the design wasn''t ingenious¡ªit was, but ultimately, it was a pale copy of what Mother Cthylla and her brother¨Cmay both never be forgotten and avenged¨Chad created, the golden rings of the Archdjinni.


    It was a portal connecting two points in space from virtually any distance, bypassing any defense and obstacles. Never was it enough to mention a copy of the original design, a mediocre one at that, with the only positive point that it was stable and worked as intended. If one praise could be placed, it would be the use of Hoopa''s artificial language of magic, an incredible tool yet a pale copy of the Song of Creation as well. A common theme with Hoopa, he reckoned, was that the Fallen God was always to steal and corrupt to his whims and dark design whatever his claw grasped, a skill Vaul hated to admit had been of immense use in the war.


    But it was not unique to Hoopa, so the Aeldari God of Smith was working on rebuilding, refitting, and recalibrating the escape, which was the only chance to avoid the Fall¡ªmerely a matter of moment for a being of his position. He might have weakened, but raw power had never been what his purpose had been, and so he forged on with purposeful strikes and a beating heart of rage, trepidation, and hope.


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    Caligari was a proud Laer, a purebred born from the perfected art of genecrafting and biological engineering of his proud kind to have the great gift of psychic power. Through the completion of his intelligence, hard work, and blemishless loyalty, he became one of the illustrious Magus, servants, and students of the Beast in life and death and beyond.


    His specialization in the arcane was one of the grandest, the non-Euclidean displacement of matters, souls, and minds, otherwise known as teleportation. A branch of magic that was most complex, delicate, and dangerous for the hasty of mind. He was a traveler and guide for the lost ones who sought and served Lord Hoopa; there was no more noble path in life for one such as him.


    From this, it came as no surprise he found himself stationed with his squad in an amphitheater where the leaders of this Maiden World were ending the phase of the integration protocol in the Ark of Life. This event was observable by everyone on the planet through its broadcasting, rather unique but not unrecorded in the Ark''s archive.


    This event, which was exceptional for so many, was merely a routine for him. It was common for such events to happen since the depraved Empire began the indiscriminate murder of any not fully in tune with their lunatic path. Also, why was he adding the final touch to the ritual that would warp this planet away? A source of harm that suspiciously stopped firing at the planetary shield for long minutes, halting all processes in the soon-to-be-shattered runic matrix.


    He had an ominous premonition. This was no normal behavior of the Empire when victory was in grasp; from the past record, it might have been, but the ancient civilization fallen from grace adapted, but they remained predictable.


    This¡­ this was new in all the wrong way.


    The telepathic bond he had gave him the needed information to realize this and spread it around. The depraved Aeldari had ceased their assault and changed formation, vessels placing themselves in suicidal positions and moving in rigid ways. The last part was the most important, as they would never pilot their cruisers in such crude ways.


    -We won''t have the tim-- His telepathic message was interrupted by all light vanishing, and the ground violently shook, gravity tearing apart the planet as alert blared of the sudden appearance of two black holes.


    -Two artificial gravitational singularities were brought into reality! Put emergency protocol B2A44-T into immediate effect if you wish to live to tell the tale!- A voice that wasn''t Caligari''s echoed¨Chis superior¨Cand he obeyed with his soul-tethered mates; the ritual to warp the planet to the Dark Cradle changed¡ªone second to another, the Magii and as many Aeldari as possible were teleported.


    Pain flared like shards of glasses on a burning wound across Caligari''s serpentine body as he barely kept himself stabilized, his soul aching from the action. But that was only the beginning as he stared up to the ceiling of the Crystal Forge¨Ca portal hub with a permanent population and several vital services secured deep in the Labyrinthine Dimension for the surrounding point of interest¨Cit was a murky black and turning to dust instead of its impossibly colorful endless corridor.


    "-I repeat, this is not an exercise; the foundation has been pruned from the Webways. Please process to evacuate through the Golden Gate in a quick and orderly manner. Any who act opposite to such shall be put last. This-" And the message from the sound of it from an Aeldari woman went on bearing grievous news.


    The pruning, a simple word that was terrific in this context, the Crystal Forge had been cut off the wider Labyrinthine Dimension, like a creature practicing autotomy, tearing off a body part to protect the rest, a sacrifice.


    Why it hadn''t been done here before was easy to explain; this area was the root of a much bigger system of tunnels, important enough for the Aeldari Empire not to attempt an attack. A common strategy Lord Hoopa had blessed them with in his wisdom.


    That didn''t mean a case like this never happened, but this base was at a hub of worlds. It was highly unusual and, with the recent happening, a source of growing dread for Caligari. His prayer only moderately helped him calm down as he proceeded as intended to the Golden Gate.


    An hour later, the Laer Magus found himself within the sacred confines of one of the most legendary places across the Ark of Life, the Atrium of Kadath at the highest peak of Mount Hatheg-Kla on Yuggoth. Or so he mused it would have been if not for the Wandering World''s inaccessibility due to an all-out attack from the three treacherous, twisted psychic conglomerations.


    It was one of the greatest honors, but he was honest with himself, and he wouldn''t lie that he was disappointed or preferred it be in better circumstances.


    He was in a simulation. However, the people were real, and so were the ones behind the life-like illusion. From his Matriarch and Patriarch above to the mysterious man of metal that was the Treasure of the Vault, and the centermost figure that, even through the construction of psionic hard-light, reclaimed immense respect for he was a hero of legend, an exceptional leader, and the Herald of Darkness itself, Majun the Archdeacon of the Church of the Beast.


    His expression was neither pleased nor angered. It was neutral yet projected heaviness as a slight frown appeared. The meeting of leaders, soldiers, generals, scientists, and more was silent as the elderly Khrave critically studied them.


    "Greeting," he began curtly, his voice crisp and smooth. I have commandeered the presence of you from the highest to lowest under our Lord''s divine edict."


    "I''m to inform you of one of our greatest enemies'' queer actions." A map of the Milky Way appeared, "As many among us have seen, their behavior had taken a sudden shift; winning battles were fled, their planet destroyed, and much more as they left, shattering all behind for none to use. All proceeding simultaneously in an orchestra of death and annihilation lacking in rhymes and reason."


    Thousands of videos of the hours past and present illustrate his point: star systems controlled by the Aeldari Empire abandoned in hours to be consumed by black holes, grand fleets splintering and exploding, and world cities in the Labyrinthine Dimension collapsed in and on themselves. It was a show of obscene destruction only seen sixty million years ago, and that was the immediate effect, the damage to forever scars reality.


    It was beyond bizarre as if an even stronger form of madness had taken control of the Empire. Many did not understand the gravity of the situation, however, and saw it as an opportunity to advance. In the minds of many, it was the reaction produced by one of the Dark Muse captures. But Majun was soon to clarify it.


    "This is no uncontrolled madness; they are migrating their population to a singular location, the heart of the Empire and Aeldari civilization. Trillion upon trillion of Aeldari moving like a tireless swarm toward their ultimate fate, the epitome of their perverse perception." His tone was distorted at the end, and pressure began to be felt even through the communication device.


    "The Fall has begun." Silence, confusion, and tension greeted this statement: "Under my command, there will be no attack, pillage, and scavenging for the little to none that remains, for I command an immediate complete withdrawal of the entirety of our force and resources across the stars and every realm not under our Lord''s dark protection. My words are his, and they are absolute."


    And so they obeyed, any divergence was an heretical impossibility as information on how to proceed trickled in their mind as the Ark of Life''s meager presence vanished.

 54. Opening Pandoras Box

    Walking from a flickering portal akin to the most beautiful night sky supported on a golden ring was a man of a tanned complexion with hair and eyes darker than coal dressed in plain grey clothes. A human, despite his many qualities, defies the norms of the species.


    There were a few seconds as El Shaddai blinked, and the world unfolded before his dark pupils to a sight surpassing any he had ever witnessed or conceived. Mountains so high they scraped the upper layer of the stratosphere and encompassed kingdoms and empires.


    Flourishing around was a flora of shapes, sizes, and colors, all so eerily normal, simultaneously alien and exotic but mesmerizing in their daunting beauty and horrific appearance. And a fauna was standing equal in all manner. Birds of hundreds of scintillating wings, or so it what appeared to be, were flying high in the sky while gargantuan giraffe-like six-legged creatures feasted upon the sweet fruits growing from low-hanging clouds.


    It was enough to shatter the mind of the common man. Even for him, a Perpetual who had a recent growth of his mind, body, and soul, it was less than simple to comprehend the scale presented to him. The same was true for this situation; it was new, and he was humble enough to admit he was out of his depth.


    This planet¨CYuggoth¨Cof which he had very little complete knowledge let him understand enough to realize it went against all he perceived as normal, as universal laws, from what it was, its movement and location. It was an eye-opening experience. In other circumstances, he would excitedly study it, but it was not the time.


    It had been in the contracts, each of thousands meaning warped in one, a trap yet not. A poisoned present yet void of toxin, a simple wish to be granted for the impossible, and this was the epitome of these contracts, the reason El Shaddai''s Creator¨Chis Father for all intent and purpose as none alive had any authority to be considered as such¨Chad called him to walk upon this grand world.


    Peaceful minutes flew by with company, the ever-humming noise of the wildlife, until a tall creature warped before him. His eyes widened as he didn''t foresee nor feel the fabric of reality and unreality shift.


    A creature double his height had appeared in front of him. It was draped in a long, ornate ceremonial robe of pure black with an accent of gold. Around the neck was a golden chain ending with a pentagram pendant thrumming with divine blessings. Below it was a pair of furry arms interlocked together with various rings not dissimilar to what he had seen Oll uses.


    As for the upper pair of arms, equally fluffy or the hands precisely. The tiny clawed ends of the two thumbs, index fingers, and pinkies extended outward, the tip of the pinky pointing downward while the annular and middle fingers curled on the other in a way that formed a five-pointed star. A religious symbol, he reckons, and the most fundamental aspect of magic.


    As for the face, it was deceptively innocent, yet it wasn''t an illusion. It was real in both flesh and soul. If one comparison could be drawn, it was natural and pleasant to observe mixes of a giant flying fox and a tiger cub. It was, to an incredible degree,  both able to affect the sensible hearts and the cold-blooded ones to underestimate the threat.


    It was a predator; there was no more apt qualification¡ªa very dangerous predator.


    ''Only past the last few days.'' The man remarked, before the Shard of Suneater, his chance of surviving, nevertheless winning against this shapeshifting emotovore, a Khrave from the scant knowledge he had been given and not any random one would have been nihil.


    Or so it was his immediate impression. He had the raw might, but the Perpetual lacked the skills and knowledge of someone his power should have. He was young, inexperienced, and lacking. What is the use of a weapon if it misses? None, the opposite; in fact, untamed power was dangerous for all.


    He was a big fish in a small pond, though the word puddle fitted better, it was evident by the battle above where the mere remnant of echoes proved these facts¡­ for now, that is. He did not intend to remain stagnant, not that he could if desired. Growth was an inherent part of him. How could it not be if Humanity was to survive and thrive in the face of the tribulations to come?


    "My greeting, El, or would you prefer Enkidu? Regardless, I''m known as Majun, and I''m the Archdeacon of the Church of the Beast and Herald of Darkness." The winged xeno bowed respectfully, his eyes studying him critically, "Let me guide your path to your destiny."


    And so El Shaddai nodded and followed any alternative conceptually impossible as was hurting Majun. The Lord of the Dawn was meticulously thorough, and any facets of the contracts were unbreakable.


    Though that would be an exaggeration, the energy necessary to ignore this condition was immense, far beyond conceivability for the next several dozen millennia. And even then, not all could be rid of. It was an impossible web the Perpetual willingly tangled himself in. But the results were worth this much sacrifice.


    Their march was one of silence, for no words were necessary between them. But it was relatively short, for their destination was at the rocky base of one of the surrounding mountains, a cliff at first glance.


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    One where all plant life progressively stopped to grow until naught remained but grasses and rose of grey to ebony pigmentation feasting upon the deathly silence from the absence of airflow and the artificial warm ray of lights from the sky drowned in the oppressive presence.


    A familiar presence he could sense through the silent golden ring around his left thumb. The main attraction for El Shaddai was not the suffocating ambiance of joyful anticipation and vengeance.


    It was a gate made of a black crystal-like material. It was tall and large, so much so the tallest peaks of Earth were the only comparison, a pale comparison at that. The design etched spoke of history before history, of the birth of the universe, the seeding of life, and tales in the thousands, each rich and complex. All of it was of major importance, but what composed the gate was just as much.


    It spoke of the creators.


    ''Blackstone¡­ what is the quantity here, and how little is it to the totality used?'' He internally questioned. Through the memories of the Queen of Ys, he knew how valuable this material was. Able to amplify and nullify the energy of the mind to absolution but a material that requires the strongest natural phenomenon to be produced.


    Yet here was proof that this impossible substance capable of godly feats was abundant. It would be for a mortal if it were made of gold and precious gemstone, a show of wealth and power impossible to repeat¡­


    "No¡­ it is not." He mumbled to himself, it wasn''t impossible, and he refused to consider it as such.


    "At-Tawil Prime, the First Gate of R''lyeh, the fallen city of the traitorous Old Ones and where Lord Hoopa''s prison lay at its heart." The Archdeacon breathed, gliding across the black grass to the gate that, on many planets, would breach the barrier of space and air.


    Then it opened; it was quick, but the wind did not pick up. The mere motion of something so heavy moving at speed far beyond sound was enough to destabilize the biosphere and kill millions upon millions if it were on Earth, but here, it did nothing of the like. It was a silent and peaceful opening to a world of shadow and dark fumes where the dead capital became visible.


    Word failed El Shaddai to describe it as the Khrave prompted him to follow. The creation of dimension, be it for storage, habitation, and any possible alternative born from new space to exploit, wasn''t new, but the extent of what was done here¡­ the Solar System wouldn''t even begin to fill this area, and the sensation of transition was absent.


    Once again, his place in the grand scheme of things was hammered, but it only showed what could be achieved. The silent walk on, the omnipresent darkness continuing to grow and grow as they moved through routes and portals with only the sound of their footsteps and breathing.


    Then Majun stopped, a pleased smile full of fang on his face as he took five of the rings from his lower set of hands, "May the Lord guide you from there henceforth; take these keys and do as you must. Follow these instructions, and you shall survive; do not walk back, do not look back, and do not falter, or else the darkness will devour you whole. Farwell, young one, may our path lead us to meet again."


    And stepping through a nearby door, he vanished from El Shaddai''s transhuman and psychic senses, leaving him alone in the capital from which none could return, the hungering monster of the dark with the five rings, the five keys hovering.


    With these pieces of information, he advanced, never straying from the path and his gaze forward to his destination. His journey continued, and the darkness exponentially amplified in strength, robbing him of seeing beyond his extended hand. At the same time, it slowly but surely began to eat away at his heavily enchanted clothes.


    With a frown, his soul pulsed, and a sphere of golden light expanded outward, banishing the devouring darkness and revealing the remains of the once-pulsing heart of the greatest civilization to have ever existed. It was discerningly worse in appearance, not for it was inferior but as the result of the environment corroding everything that was is and would be.


    It was daunting in many ways, but the Perpetual had no option but to go on, and so with a stern expression and calm mind, he steadily progressed deeper into the belly of the Beast''s gilded cage. And the deeper he went, the abyss strengthened, the angular and organic architecture vanishing to one melted and oozing while his shield of light fought on, forcing him to push himself if he didn''t wish to be digested alive.


    Soon, there was no sound, smell, physical and psychic sensation, only the purest of black as if none of the above ever existed. A world of nothingness where time lost all meaning, for it did not exist as was space; left and right were inverted with up and down as none could exist in a plane with no concept of direction and distance.


    It was a place of total sensory deprivation, a place of eternal wanting, craving, and desire that would and could ever be fulfilled no matter how minute. It was a place of madness, the final destination at the end of the road where souls evaporated.


    Yet he walked on. He had no choice as the world wished to consume him, the flickering candle in the snowstorm at the apex of the moonless and starless night. His only company, the six rings that chaotically pulsed, methodically guiding him forward on his labyrinthine journey, the journey his life was constructed for, his primary purpose of existence.


    Then his eyes saw it.


    A strange bottle oozing the darkness made manifest. Its bottom was a flat golden ring turning into a smooth ring of unknown material painted pale blue, shifting to mauve as the head thinned out. Then was the cork, a horned head with a top knot, his mind tied to the vision of his Creator.


    The Flask of Sealing.


    The Perpetual carefully approached, his light holding with great difficulty as the darkness tried and slowly succeeded in extinguishing him. His body wanted to run, but there was no walking back. His mind was despairing at his imminent doom, but there was no looking. His soul was dying in the remnant of a prisoned God, but the only path was forward.


    He grabbed the flask, and the grinning darkness agonizingly ate away the upper layer of the skin on his right hand, yet he pushed forward. A ring was slotted, the simple jewelry melding back to the bottle.


    His muscles followed next as maniacal laughter echoed in the silence of the darkest night. But he kept on, and a second was slotted, then a third¨Chis hand was nothing but bone¨Cthe boy that would be king screamed.


    Yet he did not look back as his face melted off, revealing pulsing muscles and wide eyes, and a fourth ring was put back. He did walk back, for he could not as he added the fifth ring, his legs vanishing in the gleeful darkness.


    His sight was robbed, but he did not falter. His body was no more but a dying husk, his light a flickering ember, but he did not falter as the sixth and final ring was brought. The darkness roared. Then, with a final push and a hand that was little more but melting biological tissue, he opened the strange bottle.


    The darkness stilled for one moment. It was all-encompassing, then in the next, it was gone, and a melodious voice full of ecstasy, pleasure, relief, and pride echoed across countless souls, yet El Shaddai''s own was the focus. His soul quivered before the Aeldari God he had freed from his cursed prison.


    "Freedom at last! My greatest thanks, my little light!" The God loudly clamored, a monstrous body of pure muscles inching down the pile of organs that once was human. It was a minor inconvenience that was fixed by the snap of one of his six floating claws, and the Numen of Light was healed.


    Hoopa, the Archdjinni of the Rings, the Fallen God, the Betrayer, the Original Sin, Aeldari God of Darkness, Magic, and Travel, was freed.


    The box had been opened, and the beast had walked out¡­ a signal was rang, and the barriers were ripped apart for change had settled.

 55. The Fall

    My grin could not grow any higher as I hunched forward, my tail flicking behind me in a lazy swirl. At the same time, I gazed deeply into the eyes of my creation, the light of my shadow, and the culmination of crafted mortal drama spanning millennia.


    To say I was pleased would be an understatement. It hadn''t been difficult to orchestrate, but difficulty hardly scaled with the pleasure the result brought.


    "Before any deeper communion¡­ let''s proceed per our agreement, shall we, El Shaddai? Free me from my restraints, and your path will be unobscured and of greatness made manifest." I let out softly, a mirthful chuckle at the end.


    With the gentle use of transmutation, my hand phased below the human¨Cmy Master in nothing but name¨Cand he was now in the palm of my hand. The height difference was staggering but not incomprehensibly so. It was comparable to a young child and a small doll.


    His body was trembling and sweating, and his soul was barely able to hold together in my presence while his mind remained relatively steady. Impressive, but at this, I still instantly reduced my presence. I wouldn''t want to reduce him to a broken mess, now would I? That would not do, involuntarily done or not. Willpower can only take you so far.


    "El Shaddai, do you agree to those terms?" I asked again, and he firmly nodded, his eyes serene, relieved, and with clear excitement. It was quite overwhelming if his wide-open thoughts were any indication, but I didn''t pry beyond what he was projecting.


    But he was confident of his choice, not that he ultimately had any. He did in the past, or they did since it''s multiple souls, but we were in the present. Usually, I wouldn''t be able to do that; coercion and direct manipulation were forbidden.


    The frog bitch commend to not hurt in any way directly or indirectly remained, but that only applied after I was ''mastered,'' such an easy loophole to exploit. Imagination never was her forte. She was too rigid and unwavering in her ways to see out of her little box.


    It was clever nonetheless, but wording and conditions were essential. And rules in non-controlled environments always will have flaws and faults unless omniscient, but at this point, that was irrelevant.


    And so my little light abided by the rules he agreed to in many past lives and could not fight back or overrule. Not that he was unhappy to do so; we were winning together on this. I was fair to those who were fair to me.


    "Hoopa, Archdjinni of the Rings, and God of Magic, Darkness, and Travel, I, E?l? ?S?h?a?d?d?a?i? ?H?a?d?a?d? ?M?a?l?a?k?b?e?l? ?Y?a?r?h?i?b?o?l? ?S?h?u?l?s?a?g?, by my True Name hereby declines the totality of authorities and privileges and lift you of your restrictions as your Master and giveth you the freedom from which had been robbed from you." Each of his words filled me with greater and greater elation as the bindings of my soul loosened to nothingness.


    Yet¡­ It wasn''t as simple as that, he remained the entity with the designed statue of Master, but that was to abuse the Flask of Sealing''s mechanisms not to get immediately sucked back in since I wouldn''t have a Master anymore. A simple trick was all it amounted to, another loophole that anyone with a little imaginative streak would have come up with.


    Fundamentally, there was little difference. El just ordered me never to be bound by the rules of my lamp over my free will¡ªhis first and last order, for the most part.


    I was still cursed. It ran deeper, oh so much deeper; Cthylla altered the reality and unreality of my existence. But yet again, the wording was important, and nothing was absolute.


    "And three wishes you shall receive for your valiant efforts, El Shaddai. I will do my utmost to grant them as long as they abide by these three rules. You cannot wish for more wishes. You cannot wish to alter free wills. You cannot wish to alter these rules." I let out, tilting my head and raising a clawed finger of a different talon at every rule.


    I thoroughly enjoyed role-playing the genie, but it was beside the point. It wasn''t only aesthetic. It was my part of the contract, three favors under those three major rules¨Cunder my abilities, of course¨Cso no world peace, mind control, killing, and the like at least coming from me.


    The core was integral to my freedom. Concepts were important to magic, and as the heart of it, despite the parasite having rooted itself in it¨CI could feel it like a virulent tumor¨CI wasn''t above the rules.


    Oh, I could cheat and alter some of them, but the rules were as much me as my mouth was part of my body from a divine standpoint. It was a structure, endless and ever-growing pathways I built. I wasn''t an omnipotent being, and while the equivalent exchange was not the perfect way of representing it, the idea remained the same.


    I couldn''t do everything I wanted free of charge. This wasn''t reality warping on a random whim without thought; it was a science. A very flexible science, yes, but a science with methods and repetitions all the same.


    ''Huh¡­ this is odd.'' I noted something unrelated to the present happening.


    I frowned.


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    ''This is¡­ What? No, this can''t be.'' The core part of my being steered as my head snapped to a seemingly random direction in Realspace that wasn''t, in fact, so random. It was the central point of power of the Aeldari Empire. It was worrying. I felt strange¡­ good, and wrong all the same. A sensation, not of loss but lack, was present. Of hunger and much more, too much yet never enough¡­


    This wasn''t normal, not at all. Trepidation was rising, and excitement in equal amounts. I shouldn''t be perceiving these sensations. These weren''t mine.


    I made the right call to force the Ark of Life to hunker down. It was its purpose¨Cliterally in the name, I was blatant¨Cbut there needed to be more. Far more, this wasn''t how it should be. It was wrong, yet not.


    I understood, and I was furious.


    Faith was a terrifying force I severely monitored and guided for evident reason. It molded me, made me into what I was: unlimited power yet little control. Aeldari Gods were created to harness it, but I was an anomaly, for I was a last-ditch effort of pure despair against certain destruction.


    I wasn''t as ''stable'' as I wasn''t built of optimal materials with an infinite amount of time to put the final touch, the human I once was, and the immediate attack at my birth proved this. I was an anomaly that wasn''t made to last its usage date with its full capabilities.


    And my prison with the shields around Yuggoth had sheltered me of most of it, most of what was not following my edicts and teaching. But now the first couldn''t, and the second had suffered from the attack of the Force of Chaos. We won the battle, but we still lost. The shields were poorly hit, weakening them enough to create problems and render firing the Blackstone Fortresses sacrificing the Wandering Planet.


    ''The Great Game huh¡­'' I internally snorted, wrath growing but never clouding my mind as more and more realization happened, ''You can''t beat something, then you make it join you. It''s why I couldn''t sense the fourth.''


    It was an incredibly ironic situation and one that wasn''t random in the least. But nothing was lost; it was the effort of a beached whale fighting against its inevitable fate of its own weight crushing its organs¡ªa delayed death.


    Something was trying to take my freedom away instantly after I regained it to do so. They were tying me to a new anchor as if. Arrogant and insolent tumors¡­ temperamental children unable to grasp their places, forced to drag me down to their level.


    "Pray to me with this ring on your finger, and I will answer for my dues, but greater matters need my attendance. You have started a chain of events far larger than you imagine. And these favors must be pondered upon. Farwell, little light, may you brighten my path once again soon enough." And with a finger snap, a ring swallowed the man teleporting somewhere in Eurasia with an enchanted armor and a plate of patisserie for his effort.


    -Brothers, sisters, and niece, I contact you to inform you that I''m liberated from this damned bottle. Yet, as you must sense through the Sea of Souls, the Fall has begun.- I sent telepathically; the reactions were multiple and complex, and a part of my mind studied them, but it wasn''t my focus.- You will stay far away, remain in the safety of the Dark Cradle I will bring you to, for what is ahead is above your power. Needless acts of heroism are unwelcome; do not in any measure try to assist me; death will be your only reward.-


    I gave them data packets to explain what was going on with more extensive instruction. Enough to quench their curiosity, and it was necessary. Reason needed to be given behind actions, but otherwise, there wasn''t much.


    It was quick and efficient, as was my teleportation to the Celestial Wheel, the command room of the Wandering Planet. Or what remained intact from my long overdue presence.


    I studied the place for a fraction of an instant before plunging a hand into the half-melted obelisk. Psychic power pulsed from me as I wrestled the control of the vitiated system to me in full. However, it wasn''t to move but to synchronize the planet and its subdimensions into a pseudo-singularity.


    Once this step was done, I began casting a spell my Magii were intimately familiar with, yet not truly teleportation. Controlling the Celestial Wheel, I controlled the singularity and plucked what I wanted from within plants, animals, monuments, cities, mountains, oceans, and beyond. I didn''t do the same for Cegorach, Isha, Kornous, and Lileath, as my rings sufficed.


    Six black pentagrams fizzled into existence at the end of my talons, and they grew outward, encircling Yuggoth through its systems in instants. Simultaneously, I witnessed a similar scene in the Dark Cradle from one of my portals, but there was one difference: a bare replica of the Wandering Planet appeared.


    Time worth hundreds of times, of which I existed, happening in seconds as the facsimile planet formed in the emptiness of this pocket dimension. Then I clapped my hands, and R''lyeh vanished, leaving me alone in an empty, collapsing cavern of immense proportion. Ignoring the measly stones, I teleported myself above to witness what I have saved, taken which would have been stolen.


    What greeted me was an apocalyptic desert of lava and ash. The planet was not structurally damaged enough to collapse on itself, but this will not do. I needed a certain part to put to use a specific aspect of its planetary defense. It was lost anyway.


    "Mend." I breathed out, snapping my tail on the ground. The point of impact traveled through the planet, halting the moving tectonic plate and the growing volcano while rising lava ocean and acidic rain stilled.


    It remained a sight equal to Hell in the mind of all not having witnessed the Warp but one that wasn''t to worsen to an uncontrollable degree.


    I was done with Yuggoth.


    Grasping a ring, I threw it, and it opened, the sight of a dark constellation rippling as I passed through it to where my heart called.


    ?????


    Across a cluster of celestial bodies gathered in an extravagant star system in the physical realm and world of every pathway, delight, pain, and pleasure bloomed in its most sordid and twisted form.


    The Aeldari Empire had gathered there in its entirety, the Dark Muses had commented, and they beckoned to the calls. Trillions of souls were playing and singing the melody of their demise to experience the greatest sensation.


    Conscious of it or not, this changed little for none desired to stop the Rise of the News and Fall of the Olds as the grandest and most debauched celebration in creation where all expressed their deepest and most extreme desire was reaching its peak.


    Words of any tongue would fail to capture the exactitude perverseness from the display of the billions of scenes happening in similitude born of a species betrayed and abandoned by their Old Gods who were seeking the guidance of a new one. It was their destiny to be here, to live and experience the moments to the utmost.


    Gone were the graceful and brilliant Aeldari of the past as now only beasts indulging in their sinful wishes to alleviate their endless boredom remained.


    Families of every age were feasting on their ancestors, mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters of every age at the top of thousands of orgies of a hundred million reaching touching the sky that served equally as banquets, canvas, and instruments from the one above and so below.


    The ability to differentiate bodies had long since been lost as oceans and continents of them more massive than entire planets rippled, shifting from the pale white of skin to the scarlet red of blood and every shade the flesh and biological process could produce. Their screams, moans, and wails a chorus as the tunes of the waves.


    The curvature of space and time itself was affected by their motion as life and death played no roles in the dances of the million-limbed creature in its ever-deprived carnival of every insanity that only demanded more and more. More more more more more more and more without end, for there was none.


    Nothing was enough, nothing was satisfactory, and never will ever be¡ªemotions and their every opposite coagulated in a gestalt, the psychic concentration of the countless souls.


    And it began to rip the very fabric of Realspace, the Webways, and the barrier separating the chaotic realm of the Warp from the above as if all were nothing im the face of the Aeldari''s sheer desires for more.


    Power so great it dwarfed that of the Gods and Daemons themselves concentrated into this singular point. Then the darkest of abysses swallowed the light of the stars, and with the emotion all have forgotten, primordial fear, the terror of proportion never felt, was reborn in their heart¡ªthe fear of the dark, of the unknown at the nothingness ahead.


    Their God had answered their call, and they bathed in his presence.


    The fear of true death, of non-existence, of the end, the highest and most potent emotion none could ever experience again. They welcomed the divine blessing, the greatest of gifts, the reward for their faithfulness.

 56. The Fourth

    In a cataclysmic preternatural storm of proportion rivaling and surpassing many of the gravest tragedies of the War in Heaven in scale and potency, a nascent God from old and new appeared. At its heart, the eye of the cyclone, was he here, a horned creature hovered down from a golden loop, his form ever-shifting, mutating as if unable to fund its calling.


    One of his hands was shifting from many fingers to three and five, one among all others, floating in the pulsating memetic storm of desires, emotions, and extremes yet attached to a body that oscillates between sensual and voluptuous to one muscular and sinewy yet monstrous all the same. His form was ever-changing and never the same, yet the sign of an internal battle of dominance crystal for any able to not fall raving dementia at sight.


    It was a beautiful and perfect sight in all its fundamental horror and wrongness¡ªa contradiction by its very nature, one that bathed the infinite layers of the material and immaterial realms in impunity.


    It was akin to the bright conflagration of a thousand supernovae, an unstoppable force of the universe. The darkness spread in cosmic waves from this being that should not have existed yet does. He tensed and danced in agony and ecstasy. Each movement robbed the light of stars, planets, and constellations, and even the image of distant galaxies vanished.


    The darkest nights to all creation rose, snuffing the meagerest to the greatest of lights.


    But one beacon remained, a guiding shadow of muffled sparks, eyes, countless eyes upon the form of the being and surrounding, morphing the world to his demented image.


    Wide open eyes of hypnotic purple with ringed pupils of gold gazing at the scene of depravity happening, a debased spectacle made in his honor, but his reaction to it was not appreciation. It was a deep-seated hunger and anger wrestling one another as the being of two minds fought himself at the sight.


    Alas, it was not a matter of will for the twisted God¨Clike a ferrous substance to a magnet¨Cthe souls were irresistibly plucked from the weakest, leaving behind empty husks and absorbed by him.


    The bodies void of any minds were used regardless of their states as the surrounding Aeldari watched in terror, horror, and stupor, yet in adoration as they couldn''t resist the sheer desire to bask in this magnificent view, the end and ultimate gratification only one can experience for a single moment.


    This¡­ this was the epitome of what they have sought after for millions and millions of orbital revolutions, a prize that had been robbed from by traitorous and absent Gods. It was given to them, but their willingness to accept it was inconsequential as their stronger brethren soon followed the weak-willed.


    Their paths were reaching their end, and the inevitably of their fates rapidly spread for the ones not lost in a sea of screams, wails, and moans, their psalms to their God. The illusion could not go on eternally, and the being at the epicenter did not push to the opposite.


    The one they have birthed and corrupted, trying to rob which he regained¨Cfreedom¨Cenraging him greatly, far more than any of their past actions. A sin that they would pay in blood. The formless being of male and female countenance fighting one another lashed out at himself, the world, and the arrogant mortals, the source of his suffering and joy.


    Any restraints that may have been shattered into shards as he began to openly feast, spread agony and death to those who have offended him, taking pleasure far beyond the realm of mortals and divines alike doing so. But it was no act of a mindless beast.


    There was a method, a pattern.


    The fissure to the Warp thundered as it grew immensely, filling its gaping appetite with the influenceable essence of Realspace. Then the sky lit up again, replacing the distant cosmic bodies that vanished were clawed hands, his hands from which fanged maws filled with sharp-toothed tongues snapped outward the petrified Aeldari of the Empire.


    Some were driven to madness, their minds utterly breaking at the mere sight, but those were blessed. For the remaining ones were to experience the true nature, the meaning of what they forced into creation, and the consequences. There was no escape, no alternate ways. Every path was blocked, every exit was closed, only the most profound and primordial nightmare¡­ The truth was surgically installed in them, bringing crisis upon their petty existence.


    All masquerade and fetishism that may have been were extinguished.


    Their God laughed, roared, and sang, both feminine, masculine, and bestial. A chorus of voices, a heavenly, daunting, entrancing sound their ears were graced by. Tears of blood flowed from their vast, open eyes as their souls began to connect and emotions grew in intensity.


    Divine clarity infected their existences.


    Their senses were shared, and their memories followed soon after as their senses of self were erased yet never threading into oblivion for them to stop experiencing the lie of liberation that had been sought from the moment of their birth, their enlightenment. The final culmination of their pitiful and pointless lives to become simple sustenance.


    There was no great revelation or grand discovery. Death was naught but an end, and now their sole purpose of existence for it was imposed on them. A punishment for some, a reward for others despite the delusion, sanity has long since become an alien concept if it was ever present in the first place.


    But this same sanity was enforced onto them, and with it, the understanding of what they amounted to and what they had done was pushed to the forefront of their minds. Their pride did not, could not hold, and shattered as did many of their existential cores.


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    They were no superior to any sophont unlucky to fall in their clutch. They were pawns, hedonistic pests with sole quality and unnatural talent to twist and destroy, for evil was all they were and ever will be remembered. An especially unsightly stain to be disgusted and ridiculed¡ªit was all they were, all they amounted to as a people that abided by a philosophy of unimportance, believing themselves to be Gods.


    "I loathe you, I love you¡­" Their God, their Devil, their Dark Prince now King, spoke in two voices¨Cthe first stronger still but equalizing to the second¨Cto their shared minds with repulsion and adoration.


    The voices merged into a singular one of disregard for an insipid toy, a tone of total disinterest, "You serve no purpose, never have and never will. Accept the gift of your King. Now die."


    And they did. The void was lit up in their unworthy souls, attracted to the psychic pull of their God.


    In this instant, the Aeldari Empire perished, a population numbering above and beyond that of any civilization that has been and would have been. Their communal demise rippled through the Warp, fissuring the feeble barriers between the realm further, giving the ways to all manner of horrors as the wound on reality bled, changed, festered, and now sang¡ªforever altering the very essence of physical space.


    Moments earlier, in the farthest reaches of the Labyrinthine Dimension, four figures excited a Golden Portal among the deathly silent remains of a recently populated city. But any of those historical details were of no importance to the four Aeldari Gods who appeared, free from sixty million years of isolement at long last.


    It was a time of urgency; every instant wasted brought them closer to their end.


    "We have escaped©\" Began the youngest head of Morai-Heg, the oldest on the opposite side followed suit, "-but it is the beginning-," and the one between the two in both age and placements finished, "-for the path ahead is dark," then they spoke in unison, "-Use my presents, the blades forged of my bones, flesh, and blood my beloved Consort. Claim what is your due prize."


    Khaine was gone before anyone could formulate any further. The Phoenix King, ready to go after his twin, suddenly froze in place as the Mistress of Fate lifted her remaining hand, but it was not her who spoke.


    "You have failed, Asuryan. Do not think we have not seen your absence; you are a treacherous fiend like him but one of incompetence. Your silence and action cannot go on." Vaul enunciated with cold, methodical fury, and the Crone''s faces smiled as a strange sphere expanded in his hand.


    One that wasn''t incomparable to the soulless automatons'' mediocre Tesseract Labyrinths. It was more, far more than a simple dimensional prison.


    "I did, brother. I have failed at my duty. You may pass your judgments as you desire." Asuryan answered calmly, a tremor in his normally regal voice. He was trapped but not in any way that his flame couldn''t free him, but power was of no use. It wasn''t the answer, and alas, he did not possess it.


    There was no purpose in correcting the God of Crafting statements; there was no use in the truth, and so he accepted his fate as the fuel to right what had been wronged.


    Moments after, in the eye of the cyclone, the Eye of Terror.


    "HOOOPPPAAAAA!"


    A scream deafened all as a flaming figure equal in stature to the Dark King appeared, Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God. His sword¨Cthe Widowmaker¨Ca godslaying blade brandished firmly. Striking at his once brother-in-arms, the Aeldari God bellowed with a fury dwarfing the manifestations of that emotion himself.


    "Yes, it is I. No, I''m more." Answered the two-faced abominations, the one that was delicate, smiling in delight while its bearded opposite concentrated and shimmering with anger not incomparable to the God of Slaughter, stated matter of factly.


    No further word was exchanged as the blade ripped through a defending pincer-like hand, and the moon below was vaporized from existence. The limb held no resistance in the face of such an assault; the same was true for the shoulder. The Dark King, still hissing in pain and pleasure, the next hundreds strike.


    But the strategy changed, and one of the strikes was intercepted by dark chains. Locking the burning blade in place, a place desired by the Fallen God.


    Then, without warning, the nascent Chaos God impaled himself in one of his hearts till the blade busted from his back in a shower of memetic blood and gore. Ungodly screeches echoed from its many mouths, resonating far and wide as its two sides were immolated in the purifying flame of conceptualized vengeance and hate.


    Yet a sadistic smile of fangs under its beaked nose of his uncorrupted face held firm the act of torturing himself, plunging the serrated blade deeper. It was a suicidal act, but it was no illogical action, but for its adversary, the subtlety was lost.


    "FOOL! WAS THIS YOUR SCHEME?! DIE FOR YOUR BETRAYAL ABOMINATION!" Khaine proclaimed, twisting the blade, unaware of the articulated tail coated in darkness until it stabbed his gut again and again. Lava-like blood spurted from the visor of his helmet, but his hold never weakened.


    "Kill me, try, big brother." The voices whispered commanding and tauntingly as the two were face to face, the merging having stopped midway in a broken visage from the Widowmaker in his chest.


    "YOU ARE NO SIBLING OF MINE, BETRAYER! TRAITO-!" Khaine howled, but it was silenced into a gasp as a perturbingly analogous creature armored of bronze, rage, and fire grasped his neck and threw him away, folding space itself with the pressure. But the blade remained, and the Dark King viciously punched the God of Blood in the head, brutally tilting it.


    "The Bloody-Handed is MINE! MINE! You hear! Begone, honorless slut!" Khorne hollered, lifting his ax and shredding the offending limbs of the not-yet Chaos God, whose screams and laughter were drowned in the beldam.


    The Aeldari God glowered at the new arrival, a creature of similar disposition but twisted, a mimic, a shattered mirror. He recognized it. Khaine extended his hand, and a fiery flail grew off his palm, and with a singular motion, the chain rattled, and the molten hooks at the end latched onto the heel of the Lord of Skulls.


    A new blade not unlike that of the Widowmaker but distinct by its grey hue appeared in the older God of War''s hand as he whipped his flail back. Pestilence-infested roots of Nurgle deflected the divine blade.


    The Grandfather of Plagues'' jolly chuckles added to the parade¡ªallowing the trapped Chaos God to avoid suffering the same fate as the one refusing to accept what is destined.


    A warped warcry in a deflagration of bronze shards was Khaine''s response as he ignored the insolent tumors, seeing no purpose in confronting them anymore. They were obstacles, nothing more, nothing less in the face of someone once upon a time he foolishly believed was brother.


    The Dark King responded warmly and hotly, welcoming with open arms his warring sibling, or so was half of his existence. The new facet was showing genuineness for the first time. Fear. The fear of a cancerous tumor whose host remained steadfast in the threat of death.


    It was ironic. But it was not to be as the last of Chaos God descended on the tumultuous scene of raw, primal psychic energy, joining to partake in the culmination of his most daring play personally¡ªa game with many players.


    "You shall not." The Change of Ways declared, a hundred smiles opening at once as a terrific storm of caustic plasma devoured the Aeldari God, deviating his course by a scant few degrees. But it was enough for his aim, for the First of the Five Croneswords¨CKha-vir, the Sword of Sorrow¨Cto fail to reach its target.


    Or so it was believed. Time was shifted as a Goddess made her distant presence known, and she recalibrated the course of the past, present, and future. The Crone had acted, and the card shuffled.


    The blade pierced the lower belly of the Dark King, exciting from the shoulder blade.


    "Yes! No! Harder! Stop! More! Continue!" He cackled and cried, black chains from the side that was of the Archdjinni of the Rings bound the new blade like the first, fighting his false other half in a deadly tug of war.


    But Death was no stranger to Hoopa, and Hoopa was no stranger to Death; he had murdered him and lived the experience. Dying would not kill him. His Master and Creation assuring him of such.


    He was not to play in that little silly game made by petulant children; he would not be dragged by them to their level. The Second Cronesword¨CAsu-var, the Sword of Silent Scream¨Cspearing his shoulder by his will even against the effort of his three would-be brothers if he failed proved it much more than any words.


    The power of belief was potent, but it wasn''t all-powerful when it was unnaturally enforced upon an anomaly created to disobey the rules themselves, flawed as it may be.


    He was Hoopa, the Archdjinni of the Rings, the Beginning and the End, Darkness and Magic, and this trap he sprung was not who it appeared to be for.

 57. Critical Success and Failure

    ''Why do I refuse? Why? Why?'' Questioned my voice in my head again and again and again with no rhyme or reason. An undertone of sensual depravity and cutesy confusion twisting what I was, not that I ever was opposite to it. It was intensified and distorted.


    The parasite, the fourth psychic tumor, Slaanesh, or what I would become if I were to accept the oh-so-sweet offers, forfeiting my everything to be reshaped, reborn in anarchy. Pleasure, pain, and every desire incarnated in their uttermost extreme form. The absolute expression of freedom, of what I had sought after from my first instance of awareness as Hoopa.


    An identity that always had been a trap, a leash on my existence, a lock on my actions and free will. A representation of my imprisonment, of my enslavement to the whims of others. Something better left forgotten in the ebb of time for me to be reborn in a greater form where I unburden myself from what has been.


    Yet, I ignored it¡ªthe false promise of liberation and every sweet poem around it.


    It was bullshit.


    I was no mortal creature so easily swayed by euphonious strings of words, from revelation leading to an existential crisis or corruption from vices in such a crude manner.


    However, the words remained nonfictive¡­ to an extent¨Cvague correlation to my life until now¨Cbut absolute freedom was an oxymoron, as was freedom itself, given enjoyment was the desired result even barely. It was to cage oneself in everlasting seclusion.


    Balance was required.


    If the process had been progressive, I wouldn''t confirm the opposite, but here¡­ it was the spark to a forest fire of hellish proportions.


    A battle for my existence where I devoured, or I was devoured, an Oroboros, a snake biting its tail. The result would be a depraved abomination of what I once was. It would merely be another prison with a chain around my neck to be tugged by my insanity, a prison of my base instincts. Less sentient than even an amoeba.


    Or so the rules dictated. Clever rules not of my making but evident of Chaos, the touch of the loftily titled Changer of Ways. Winning was no different than losing¡ªan excellent trap indeed. One I couldn''t escape even considering the haste of its execution; it was fashioned with desperation, rightly so, but it was fashioned well.


    I had a tendency to escalate, too.


    Slow corruption would have been impossible. Regardless, it was clever, very clever, and in many ways frustratingly absolute no matter my action. If I lose, Slaanesh rises. If I win, Slaanesh rises. If I draw, Slaanesh rises. If I flee, Slaanesh rises. If I do nothing, Slaanesh rises.


    The only factor was when that ''if scenario'' happened.


    It was beyond any attack I ever suffered, and it all made sense now: you can''t escape your shadow. I hate to admit it, but I had been played with like a child. Not that I ever could have avoided it or was exceptionally unpredictable. Power was what I had lacked, and so I would have been prey to such schemes regardless.


    I had no choice.


    To put it bluntly, I was fucked.


    No matter what, it would happen as long as I existed in my state. It was a matter of time before I was Slaanesh the moment I was freed. Like cancer would be part of an organic body, it was intrinsic to my nature, shoved into me against my desire by the grotesque theology of the Aeldari Empire¡ªmere puppets devoured by me.


    Puppets that were of exquisite smell and taste. Their terror at the fate of oblivion succulent to the utmost extent. I hungered for more, far more.


    Yet such unsophisticated desire would never drive my action as long as I held.


    But what if I die? What if I abscise what I do not want? Nothing was unchanging, though it couldn''t be done carelessly.


    I was tainted no matter what; I was poisoned and envenomed. The consequences were vast. Apoplectic abhorrence wouldn''t begin to describe my appreciation of the subject, but it was to be pondered after this entire problematic situation.


    "Khaine! Harder weakling! Deeper! No! Yes!" I bemoaned and moaned in ever-rising contradiction, impaling myself on a fourth sword with glee and agony. Immediately, I willed dark chains to tie the blade with its sisters in knits that sent ripples through time and space, stopping my hand from tearing them off as my control slowly slipped away.


    The poor star systems, Cruisers, and wraithbone stations surrounding us had long since been brought down to their most rudimentary particles, if not even less. The scale was far greater and to be seen from every celestial body for the eons to come.


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    But it went beyond Realspace. Any Neverborns and objects of the Warp were subjugated in the tidal waves rippling to even the abyss of the once Sea of Souls¡ªonly pandemonium reigned.


    "Your path is destined; you cannot escape the fate that I have written. Accept change, revel in it¡­ oh, Dark King, oh, First Betrayer, oh, Original Sin." Whispered Tzeentch to my ears, not for the first time, a facsimile of control as his tentacles dug into the threads of Magic. My Magic. Leeching of my bleeding power to fatten up his own bastardized Sorcelery.


    A little shitstain that was too arrogant to understand his blindness, one too unaware to view flaws in his actions, for the delusion of omniscience was deadly and his greatest sin. A pile of squirming, vile thinking, pointlessness, unable to comprehend what he was goading. Or was he? Creatures of his nature did not abide by the law of rational logic.


    The burning sensation of the divine steel skewering my inside kept his words away. It was beyond words to describe curtly. Aside from that, it was fucking painful and felt like bathing in acid without the nerve ending dying.


    I hated it. I loved it. I wanted more. I wanted it to stop. All was right, and all was wrong.


    Yet I continued. It was a reminder, a light in the darkness.


    And the divine dance must go on.


    And it did, Khaine battling the three abominable psychic gestalts doing their utmost in my growing domain to beat my brother into submission through the indulgent uses of Avatars¡ªpowerful Avatars, far more than when they sieged Yuggoth.


    My wardens. The ones that all but wish for me to join them, to drag myself down to their level. I was not proud of my existence¨Cone forced upon me by ripping apart what I once was and taking the desired part¨Cbut it was no reason to debase myself.


    I wasn''t a child.


    They wanted me, desired me, needed me¡­ oh, cute. But the result of their efforts was less than stellar. The Bloody Handed God held on; my ever-continuous self-destructive tendencies, immensely helping as they may be, didn''t serve as proof of contradiction.


    It was¡­ impressive. But praise where praise was due, and without the support of his Consort, Morai-Heg from somewhere in the Labyrinthine Dimension¨Cthe blade and periodic chronomancy and predictions¨Cand what appeared to be Asuryan essence funneled through his body, he would have been shattered in the best scenario long ago.


    It was synonymous with his average peak back in the war. He was mighty.


    I must say I wasn''t surprised for him to be here. It seemed Vaul¨Cas expected¨Csucceeded in using my indirect, undesired assistance to escape with everyone from the Celestian Enclave¨Cfrom my hunger¨Cbefore it was too late.


    It was excellent. If probably part of another scheme, Morai-Heg was no inferior to Tzeentch and certainly saner, to a certain degree. But these entire things weren''t for me. It was Cegorach''s deal, and he was tucked safely away.


    "Is that all? Pitiful! No! Please stop!" I taunted and cried from many mouths as Khaine lobbed one of my arms, Khorne having blocked the hit to my fury and joy.


    My words resulted in a scream of fury, but otherwise, the battle went on, three and a half Chaos Gods and one and a half Aeldari Gods helping and killing one another. What a strange battle it was.


    One that my brother wasn''t winning as it went on.


    Powerful he may be, it was no fair fight, and in spite of my effort to forcefully manipulate this unwanted domain of mine to put pressure on the three tumors and others, such action¡­ It wasn''t enough.


    Wounds accumulated on his torso, chips grew on his armor, and his borrowed power wavered as his anger rose. He could do more if he were less hopelessly reckless in his thirst for vengeance, but he wasn''t, and sanity had long since left him. Or the little bit of it he ever had; Khaine never was stable.


    I couldn''t do anything. It was not from powerlessness, but I limited my abilities as using them was unshackling my sole hold over them, which I evidently did not wish for. My darkness, magic, and portals remained sealed, the latter paramount of all. I could not be careless. Every action brought me closer to that edge¡­ that tantalizing desirable edge.


    It was an edge; I was one step into the void.


    ''I could let go, jump down¨Cabandon all and enjoy for all eternity across the stars and universes beyond.'' The voice, my voice yet not repeated as the nth impalements were scarcely avoided against my will. The jolly cackle of the Grandfather of Plague echoed as the little remaining of my sight from my eyes began to disappear.


    However, I was aware of what was coming when arriving here.


    Khaine was a welcome aid, not a bleak hope for me to latch on, however. His appearance was a possibility, not a factor I counted on.


    But I must say, he greatly helped. Ironic as it was, I doubted his mind would ever comprehend it, and if it did, he would have an aneurysm or the equivalent of our unorthodox physiology.


    The Bloody-Handed God wasn''t part of my initial plan, though calling it a plan was generous.


    "Khai-" A sword speared me in the throat, angled in a way that speaking from my primary mouth was impossible but not enough to decapitate me. In a similar fashion to all others, I chained it. It was harder, my control mine yet not ultimately won by me, but that would be the last.


    I could feel it. My senses weakened and vanished one by one, and a moment later, I was trapped in my mind by myself. A prison that was of my being again. Anger, glee, anticipation, and fear bubbling and oozing from my core, the transformation was ending.


    My consciousness was losing. I was losing. It wasn''t about willpower. This wasn''t telepathy. It was comparable to masterfully applied telekinesis, mimicking the effect of how the former operated by altering brain chemistry.


    An unstoppable force and alas¡­ I was no immovable object.


    It was a matter of energy. It always was, always is, and always would be. It wasn''t complicated. It was the driving force of the Universe, if I may dare affirm. The part of me that had more was, as such, assured to win.


    The part that feasted on trillions of souls older than any civilization besides a very select few of which said souls were recently part of.


    "Freedom at long last! How fabulous!" My mind slipped into darkness as, for the first time, I felt good, right, and complete. And I began to take those unpleasant¡­ toys from my perfect self.


    Then there was a moment of clarity, merely flashing at the sight of the Widowmaker handle in my delicate hand as I plucked it out, fascinated by the gaping and pulsating hole it left in me.


    -Run.- I ordered, violently penetrating the hot, flaming knight, rageful knight''s fragile mind. It wasn''t him I was speaking to, and Morai-Heg responded by pulling her Consort away in a time pocket. A chorus screech of fury was ripped from my throat, but it was silenced as another moment of clarity flashed.


    The time was ripe. The last steps of assimilation were exploitable weaknesses.


    The Blackstone Fortresses fired with all protocols restraining their outputs to maintain their structural integrities lifted. It wasn''t me or anyone who commanded them. It was pre-programmed. Something that could not be stopped. My death was inevitable.


    It was instantaneous.


    My gleeful laughter stopped, my many smiles froze, and my numerous eyes trembled as they locked in the direction of Yuggoth. Tzeentch was genuine, shocked, and terror, emotions likely alien to him, but alas, he was the only one to realize until we bathed in all-consuming darkness.


    I screamed.


    I only knew pain.


    My body was ripped apart. My eyes burned in its bright void. My ears melted in its peaceful tocsin. My limbs disintegrated in its inexistent pressure. My organs held no better in the face of such power.


    I felt fear. I was terrified. I felt anger. I was furious.


    Then I felt nothingness.


    Then I knew clarity as my eyes opened in the desolation left behind¡ªa fanged smirk on my lips.


    "Aahhh¡­ I won." My grin grew, reaching my eyes in a way that wasn''t quite symbolic, and then I stared back at the ones studying me with all manner of emotions. I laughed, a long mocking laugh of satisfaction.


    Then I stopped.


    "Your death is ahead of you." I felt them quiver and loved to know they did. I grinned harder, and with a ring, I teleported away, the bulk of Slaanesh purged from my existence. Oh, he was still here. I was here, after all. I wasn''t the same anymore; I was Hoopa yet more, but I brought balance.


    Darkness and psychic energy needed a precise concentration and state of existence not to combust spontaneously, among other points. The Aeldari Empire¨Cthe Emotional Cysts'' scapegoats¨Ctipped the scale on one side too much too fast on the psychic side.


    Who was I to complain about abusing my faulty design? For once, the frog bitch did something right by doing it wrong.


    Yet there was still much to do, torture, kill, and abuse. Mistakes were made, and retributions were due.

 58. Commoraggh no More

    Reappearing in the little of what remained of Yuggoth, I mentally pinged the Blackstone Fortresses to see their states. And from the looks of it, it wasn''t good, to say the least, but it was even less surprising.


    Every energy in their storage was used to fire at me, to eradicate what I did not desire in a cataclysmic explosion. Now, they were comparable to massive ebony black molten slag. None of the elegant flower-like designs remained or much of their function.


    But that was no reason to leave them here for filthy Daemons to infest, and I didn''t want to give them away. They were MINES and MINES alone.


    Extending a hand, I grasped every last of them in telekinesis, turning off what could be turned off for ease of motion. I wouldn''t want to rip apart what fraction of the hyper-massive structures'' salvageable parts were still here.


    I waved another of my six hands, and its ring popped up and expanded massively, but it wouldn''t be enough to fit what amounted to a small planetoid-sized spacecraft, nevertheless hundreds of many shapes. But it was nothing a snap of a finger size manipulation can''t fix.


    Magic was fabulous¡ªmine, above all else.


    I deposited them in the most secure confine of my Vault, a decontamination and isolation room of sorts. The memetic radiation and various frequencies they were emitting would prove damaging to the rest of my collection.


    Prevention was the mother of safety.


    This done, all my talons flew back to me and sheathed themselves in their socket, my face contorting in pain for the briefest of moments. Moments that made the baleful gazes of fear, anger, disgust, and confusion in the Warp shift to amusement and satisfaction, but my glare shimmered their open aggression down to their place.


    They were weak.


    The Abyss wasn''t them; they should be careful to whom they gaze. For now, they were in luck. I had more pressing matters.


    I was wounded, and my time here didn''t calm me down one bit¡ªthe exact opposite.


    My initial plan when I regained my freedom had been cut and dry. It was inspired by what the C''tan intended. It amounted to the temporary isolation of the psychic ocean from physical space.


    A lengthy, if uncomplicated, process. Of course, distancing all of the Warp was unwanted since it would kill my little bats and space elves, among others. It was an omnicide. But beyond those unique cases, life needed to be wiped out for a clean slate.


    In principle, it would have worked, but it changed with the fissure on the Well of Eternity done by the bitch that was ''Mother,'' may her non-existent soul suffer evermore. This factoid made this plan¡­ futile in its ultimate purpose. It was why the Chaos Gods were so influential despite the barrier Asuryan raised; they were feeding off outside sources, other universes.


    The last point remained a theory, but it had enough evidence to be considered at face value.


    It wasn''t the end and be all, but it complicated the matter to an uncomfortable degree.


    And now, something from these other sides was tied to me. I was an anchor, rendering the sealing of the Well of Eternity virtually impossible as well unless I wished to opt for suicide.


    Suppose I held the raw power to do so, to begin with, to make it happen without it being a massive failure. The fissure was in Tzeentch''s backyard, where he was strongest, and isolating his realm wouldn''t be an easy feat.


    It was infuriating, annoying, and beyond. But I was severely wounded¨CI played the pi?ata for my win¨Cmy wards and seals currently on myself could only hold on for so long. I couldn''t keep them eternally. Khaine blade did not exclusively touch Slaanesh. I-he took the brunt of the damage, but alas, I didn''t go unscathed from it.


    Khaine hadn''t been surgical in his strike.


    Still, it was manageable, just that fighting the Tumors was unwise, even if they were unwell from my attack. Fighting them without preparation was equally reckless.


    I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, but on the other hand¡­ so were the three little shits. Oh, the hole I made was a problem, but that could be dealt with later. Neverborns¨CDaemons, Chaos Gods, etc¨Cwere entities unable to continually exist in Realspace without constant contact with psychic energy per their total preternatural nature.


    At worst, they made a perfectly destroyable stronghold. Aeldari Gods were more grounded, and that''s why we just don''t stop existing under psionic nullification fields. In exchange, we couldn''t grasp as much of the Warp as the Chaos Gods did. Also, it was what gave us true sapience. We weren''t disorganized conglomerates of emotions and concepts.


    Well, unless what was tried and partially succeeded on me. And with my portals, I could make the Immaterium permanently part of the Materium anywhere and everywhere. Within the Milky Way, outside galaxies were another context but not an impossibility. The locks weren''t exclusively on hurting my ''Master''; fleeing out of telepathic range was part of the leash.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The anti-psychic field I used for my false death was just a loophole since I was specifically made to be operational inside.


    Regardless, this wasn''t important.


    I was just pissed off.


    My pent-up aggression needed to go somewhere¡­ and the mortals that have played ample hands in my fate, my would-be prison, were not as complicated to handle.


    A maniacal grin formed on my face, fangs lengthening at countless terrific ideas bouncing in my head like thousands of pinballs.


    "This promises to be fun."


    Of course, the entire affair relating to four of my siblings escaping the Celestian Enclave was in my mind, but that was for later. I needed to be in tip-top shape for them, and it wasn''t as if I couldn''t blockade them for the moment.


    I had extensive control of the Labyrinthine Dimension, after all, and deep within it, I sensed the ones that had played with force they shouldn''t have.


    ?????


    Upon a throne of pallid skin and moaning flesh was an equally pale man. His sharp ears parted his flowing dark hair, putting emphasis on his visage, a face that would vanish in a crowd. One that sported a look of loss and confusion.


    His bright black eyes with hidden power coiling behind studied the endless sea of buildings that was Dark City known as Commoraggh from its highest viewpoint. Vileth, Cardinal Gospel, Head of the Dark Muse, felt no satisfaction in his success.


    He had sensed the horrifically violent and sudden disappearance of the majority of the Aeldari Empire population in the location he commanded them to go. It was the culmination of his life work, his vengeance manifesting to false Gods undeserving of existence.


    The Dark Muse was old, older than any mortal, old enough to remember the legendary and mythical Old Ones, their divine creators, and their demise¡­ one orchestrated by these traitorous creatures.


    And traitorous creatures they proved themselves to be as soon after the decimation of the Old Ones, the Bloody Handed God¨CKaela Mensha Khaine¨Chad chosen for them to exist no more. Then, these beings abandoned them.


    Or what Vileth has kept, the fuel of origination from which his burning passion stemmed. His soul couldn''t contain eons upon eons of information without collapsing in itself¨Capotheosis was rendered impossible, and he did not wish for such, to be part of these lowly parasites¨Cand naught of value was lost.


    Yet before the Seas of Souls was stolen from the Aeldari, the one that had saved him from the God of Murder''s burning blade had been a source of great information equaled in its confusion. The Dark Muse never trusted the avian Neverborn capable of fits of farsight eclipsing the greatest Aeldari seers, but it was the only way forward for change to happen.


    It wasn''t a matter of rationality.


    And now Vileth had succeeded, the Gods had died, and She-Who-Thirst was born from their ash. He didn''t sense their pungent psychic presence anymore, had the confirmation from the blue avian of their demise, and the tug upon his souls to be devoured was clear even from the mighty defense he and his fellow Dark Muses had raised till the galaxy quieted down.


    Yet the Dark Muse felt empty. There was no satisfaction. No joy or elation. Nothing. For the first time, the weight of time became real, and all amounted to a void. Long since had he forgotten his mother, his father, his sisters, his brothers, the planet on which he was born.


    Nothing.


    Vileth had power in every form beyond the dream of many, yet nothing brought the embers of life he recently lost at this facsimile of a victory. Regret began to blossom at his hesitation¨Chis fear¨Cto join the Fall of the Olds and the Rise of the New, to abandon everything of the shell that he was.


    "Tha-" His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open as in the center of his vision, a golden ring expanded, the liquid-like portal made of constellations widening.


    The Dark Muse''s heart hammered in his chest, almost to the point of bursting, as something floated down the portal that had shattered any defense of the Dark City. An alarm rang across the endless seas of buildings, from its darkest layer to its ether, but none of the defenses went on to do their purpose. The same was true for the defensive force, but in their case, they were too entranced to move.


    The arrow-shaped tip of a skinned and purple-furred tail came out first. They were feet shaped like strange shoes with curled-up tips and, soon after, muscular legs, a bulky monstrous torso adorned with six rings. Then, one by one came disembodied hands until they numbered six, each orbiting a different axis around the creature, imitating the motion of moons to the gravitational pull of a forming planet


    Finally, the head came out, a clean, if bushy purple beard on a grey-skinned visage smirking wider than it ever had any right to be, a dark beak merging with the upper mandible shifting with the smile. Two massive horns grew from the side of its head while none of the hair¨Cof a similar color to the beard¨Cwas free, taking the form of a top knot held by a golden ring.


    But it was the eyes¡­ depthless pool of magenta with two golden rings shining brighter than any metal or gemstones.


    It was beautiful. The most beautiful creature the ancient Aeldari had ever gazed upon, genuine tears of awe flowed freely at such a magnificent being.


    His hand extended to grasp the gargantuan being. His body instinctively stood up from his throne to the grand wraithbone window.


    Yet, it was terrifying on an existential level.


    These were more than predatory. Oh, far more.


    The eyes held naught but malice, rage, hate, sadistic anticipation, ravenous lust, and violence, yet very much intelligent. It reminded the Cardinal Gospel of the Daemon that had saved his life¨Can unnatural act to the highest degree¨Cthat had made me feel so small, unimportant, and less.


    Yet, in that instant, it dwarfed it all.


    "No¡­" He whispered, the tug in his soul growing stronger and stronger by the seconds as the being, the God, the Devil, gazed at him, its fanged maws splitting wider in a tunnel of spinning teeth.


    -YeS~!- Came the melodic voice in his mind, barely at a level to cause agony yet keep his soul healthy, the hunger within palpable, tasting his entire metaphysical being. One word. One word and he would die in the truest of the senses. One word was all it would take to cease his existence.


    He felt fear. Incomprehensibly deep fear as realization dawned on him. But he remained frozen, unable to scream, to run, to cry, or anything of that fashion.


    ?????


    I stared at the scared shitless male Aeldari, my smile creeping higher by the second.


    -yOU~!- I spoke in his fragile mind, and that was a generous wording. It was fragmented, heavily modified, and understandingly so for such an old specimen. Aeldari weren''t made to live for this long¡ªa case to study later after I had my fun. I wanted to devour them, but that wasn''t wise. It would be laughably simple, but no. I wouldn''t; it was a downward spiral, not that I wouldn''t snack on some, but a bit of moderation was necessary.


    -OBsReve~!- I sang, keeping eye contact with him, a Dark Muse and the Dark Muse, the first of those pests that have made me. I understood they were puppets; Vileth''s soul was an open book to me, but they weren''t stupid.


    The last part of this Tzeentch was a naughty lie but was surprisingly honest otherwise on average. A significant portion of the memories were altered and lost forever, but it was more than sufficient to know he was aware. Misguided or not, it changed little. I never was particularly merciful, and mercy was a resource I was poor at at this instant.


    "May you lowly pests be granted my blessing." I intoned grandly, my hands stopping spinning as six pentagrams appeared. The dimension and sub-dimensions of this fraction of the Labyrinthine Dimension rippled, and every structure turned to dust before vanishing.


    My immediate focus was on Lhilitu, the arrogantly titled Consort of Void. From a glance, I understood everything about her, her desire, fear, and all that was between those and after.


    She was as aroused as she was frightened. Quite a lot. A disgusting slut was all she was. There was no limit to reaching the panacea of pleasure for her.


    Torturing her in the classical manner would prove counterproductive on that point. But that would have been boring, and I didn''t feel the urge to respect the integrity of her identity, though I guess she wasn''t terribly against that¡­ for now.


    She was the most foolish of the seven, and I will demonstrate it live to the trillion here.


    "Let the spectacle begin~!" I exclaimed in a sing-song tone.

 59. Conclusion of Conflict

    The Fall had happened.


    It was an undeniable truth.


    Every creature''s bearing, even a figment of a soul, had sensed it, a deep sense of dread, existential revulsion, and attraction rippling across the Milky Way from its epicenter with little to nothing warding it.


    The Aeldari were the most touched, even from the impenetrable fortress that was the Dark Cradle. Panic was a word that would be shameful to use in this context; the scale was of far too important proportions for that, and the Aeldari were scarcely the only ones.


    The Khraves were second and quickly followed by every race with the sole exception of the Necron, for they lacked all to perceive it, for now¡­ it was temporary¡ªtheir state of not life and not death. There had been many breakthroughs in giving the soulless automatons what had been robbed.


    Regardless, the Archdjinni of the Rings had been wise in his decision and the immediate divine edict of absolute retreat across the three dimensions of the Warp, Realspace, and the in-between that was the Webway. One sentence of perfect foresight and the Ark of Life was saved from a horrific fate¡ªquite the understatement.


    Unlike what happened to the Aeldari Empire, to the chagrin of none but the Merciful Mother, her boundless love was for all her children, unworthy and blind to it as they may be. Their demise was the only facet of their existence that was valuable.


    Images and, nevertheless, video recordings were highly restricted in direct relation to their inherent memetic existence and the sheer madness that was plastered on them. The danger, as well, was to invite what shouldn''t be asked.


    The Five Pillars were wardens against the Chaos Gods, each negating their ideology on a fundamental level, but it changed little when power came into play. It always is; no matter your dreams, ambitions, cleverness, faith, willpower, and exploits, power plays a more important role, period. Any case that might appear to prove the contrary was fabricated, the show of trickery or bias.


    It was unfair, but that was the reality, and corruption was rarely a matter of freedom alone. Cheating was the norm, and any outliers who didn''t were devoured in quick order.


    It wasn''t a time of grief. However, quite the contrary, this oh-so-feared cosmic event where the Gods and Goddesses themselves died and were born neutered, and for that, it was a time for festivity. Na?ve, it was what it was; be that as it may, it wasn''t false, and they had won without having to act.


    There wasn''t a greatest victory but for your enemies to jump off the cliff unassisted.


    Their foes had willingly destroyed themselves in the most shameful and pathetic display of depravity that had ever been, and that ever will be. It was laughable, the greatest joke they ever could orchestrate, and a joke was all it was.


    By all means, whatever the fallen Aeldari believed was a lie or a distorted truth to the point it wasn''t different. Or it was a play on words, what was their grander experience in life but its permanent end otherwise adequately dubbed the darkest moment as death. Ultimately, insane creatures devoid of any rationality were hard to understand from a rational lens.


    It was the wrong tool to use.


    So very akin to Hoopa from an outsider''s perspective, but it wasn''t the case. He had been one of the targets, a piece on the board, or was it? The players were arrogant and blind to the shadow in front of their eyes, and the price to pay for their erroneous ways would be very, very steep.


    "T''was a very entertaining spectacle!" A strange being composed of a porcelain mask with the right side smiling and the left side crying and a body made of a tacky colorful cloak¨CCegorach¨Cexclaimed loudly in his boisterous tone.


    In front of him was the holographic image of a creature of two visages screaming and moaning as its two parts fought one another in a cataclysmic feud. This was the Dark King, She-Who-Thirst, and his brother, Hoopa, the Archdjinni of the Rings. All the same, yet completely alien, it was jarringly natural in a way that could only be called viscerally wrong.


    This image was, as such, kept sealed for the time being. Mortals could break at the sight of it when it could disturb Gods. Though representations were possible if done well, never could they express the level of violation against all that was this scene of corruption oozed even across the holoscreens.


    It was unnatural and should under no circumstances exist.


    "Uncle won¡­" Lileath breathed in relief, watching at the beam that absorbed all light and thoroughly vaporized everything in its path, leaving behind the horrifically wounded Aeldari God of Magic.


    The battlefield was now void of anything, the gargantuan psychic warpstorm seemingly stiling as if it understood how insignificant it truly was in the face of entropy. It was sudden and impossible to have foreseen from one instant, divine beings, and monsters fighting in an epic brawl of magic and sword of proportion equaled only to a mildly intense battle of the War in Heaven to another filled with nothing.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    It was the blink of an eye, but it wasn''t to be shocked at. The most destructive weapons of the far-gone Old Ones had been put to use. Hoopa''s survival was only plausible by his intimate connection to the inner workings of those machines of mass destruction.


    "I wouldn''t say so, my favorite niece~! Hehe! I can agree that he succeeded quite well in his suicidal plan. I''m proud of him! Per usual, he freed himself and went straight to nearly jailing himself again. It''s as if he murdered Death." The Laughing God chuckled, reappearing in front of the winged goddess while wiggling a finger from left to right, "It''s a game won with patience, my dear, and he got a nasty virus injected in him. A beautiful tumor, a lusty cancer planted right in his body. It was the goal all along, or that''s what I believe. When one can out-cheat me, I can''t be certain."


    "Brother, stop." Isha said sternly, shutting down the spinning buffoon''s inane giggles before focusing on the Maiden, "My child, it''s not entirely inaccurate¡­ the Fall had been avoided, the prophecy brought down from grace. However, crying victory now is foolish, I fear. The Dark King is wounded; he may have purged himself, but the stain remains. You must feel it?"


    It was the truth. Lileath could detect it. While degrees magnitude weaker above the realm of numbers that mortals could fathom, it was still here. A weak but constant pressure on her soul signifying that not all was gone, an exponentially diminished beast hungering for her blood and viscera. A terrifying prospect if left forgotten.


    "Khaine is free and certainly not wanting to be diplomatic. I presume Asuryan and Vaul are, too, Vaul above all else. It depends on Morai-Heg, and we know we can''t depend on predicting her actions. We must avoid war, that''s evident, but how, I''m uncertain." Kurnous broke his silence and earned nods and hums of agreement.


    "Why not ask our King?" The Great Harlequin proposed, and as it was on cue, a large golden ring filled with constellations on an abyssal tapestry their King hovered down.


    The two Goddess gasped at the sight, and the God of the Hunt didn''t fare any better, jumping back his polearm growing from the vines and hugging his arms.


    In front of them stood Hoopa. Hundreds of chains held his body tightly, some digging into his flesh to mimic a semblance of health¡ªto keep him from breaking down. His thick tar-like blood, darker than any starless night, dripped from open wounds as bones, muscles, tissue, and organs were bare to observe from his chest to his neck.


    It wasn''t the only blood and biological matter on his form. The Archdjinni of the Rings was covered in glittering scarlet, crimson blood accompanied by more solid objects, shredded clothing, pieces of pallid skin, matted hair of every color and texture, bone fragments, and much more.


    A butchery happened, and the butcher stood before the four of them with a demented, if relaxed grin of hundreds of fangs with no different body pieces within and a serrated longer than it strictly needed to be methodically cleaning them.


    The only sound in the room of crystalline wraithbone was from six Aeldari¨Ctheir whimpers, struggle, and muffled cries¨Ceach held securely in the hands of Hoopa, their eyes speaking of untold horror, of destruction and restoration of the minds in a way that entire libraries would fail to transcribe. The six had been toyed with, yet they weren''t empty playthings¨Caware and fully cognizant playthings¨Cthe targets of godly anger and vengeful retribution.


    Cegorach was the first to snap back into focus, his head twisting from up to down as he bounced in front of his brother, studying both the God of Darkness and his prizes with wide, sparkling eyes.


    "OOH!" He dramatically declared, "The rest of the Dark Muses set~! Were they rare? You must have opened a LOT of packets to get them! I''m jealous¡­ Can I see them?"


    Hoopa snorted in amusement, and the tension popped like a balloon, "You can play with them to your heart''s content and know they are responsible for the direction the Empire followed."


    Without further word, the Laughing God bowed deeply, his curved nose touching the metallic ground, and with a flourish, six cards appeared in his left hand. Their design was elegant and whimsical, with golden braided edges. Their back was a dark blue back with various random symbols. After a sleight of hand, the Aeldari vanished, absorbed by the cards.


    ''Ohohoh! I''m going to have so much fun! I''m going to make them float down with me!'' He giggled maniacally in his head, but a shiver of existential dread passed through his non-existent spine as purple eyes with gold rings in their middles flashed over him.


    The same sensation was on everyone; there was an undeniable hunger, but it was kept at bay. For now¡­


    "Isha¡­ Could you heal me?" Hoopa asked, even if it was more of an order as he stood straighter. With a snap of fingers, a dark flame came to life and turned to cinders the remnant of his massacre, giving view to the true extent of the damage done to him. It was worse than it first appeared.


    The Aeldari Goddess of Life voicelessly advanced tentatively her visibly worried demeanor, resulting in an amused snort.


    "Do not fret. I have control of my mind, mostly. I''m a bit quirkier¡­ I already have an idea of how to take care of this precarious problem. I require your assistance as well. What has been done is more of a genetic disease than a cancer. It cannot simply be freely cut out." The words left his fanged maw, Isha''s hand was glowing a teal green, and Hoopa was instantly soothed as his flesh squirmed, knitting itself together.


    "What manner of blades Morai-Heg made?!" She was left shocked, appalled even by the depth of the injuries. She knew of the danger the Widowmaker, the god-slaying blade of the Bloody-Handed God, possessed.


    But this¡­ from the feedback of her senses, it was primarily created to destroy a singular target, Hoopa. Full recovery would be simple enough, but that was because she was here and had adequate equipment. He was dying, falling apart in the literal sense.


    Isha knew it was the Crone responsible. A mere glance was enough for an entity of her station to decipher the web of connections. Particularly when it came to the Pantheon, and the three-headed Goddess hadn''t tried to hide it.


    "The stabby and sharp kind." Cegorach piped in unhelpfully, and it wasn''t a lie. He puffed his chest in pride at that notion.


    "Thank you, brother, for enlightening your lessers of mind¡­ I couldn''t tell when I had one passing through my ribcage and poking from both sides." Hoopa said sarcastically, shaking his head with a smile. This one was relatively normal and sent a ripple of calm to his small audience, "She used her essence as prime material and with the anvil fetishist who knew what they could do. Shoving a magnetar star down my throat would feel better than those swords."


    "I doubt you would pass up the opportunity to do that, Hoopa. You likely wouldn''t hate it as you are; no shame in that." Cegorach doubled down, but then his tone shifted to something sharper, serious, "Have you plans regarding our freed brethren? The Dark Cradle, from your words, wouldn''t prove impossible to pierce. If not through brute force, then ingenuity."


    "Quite violence at a base level isn''t vital in their working. I can safely assume Morai-Heg would go along. She must see winning is unfeasible. Vaul is Khaine''s slave in body and mind, but his Consort can control him, and the two brutes are easy to read. Asuryan is the one I can''t predict with certainty. Regardless, they are in the Labyrinthine Dimension, and unless they wish to collapse a large fraction of it, they won''t get out. Evidently, I give a meager amount of time before Khaine clutches his pearls and breaks free, screaming about roughly impaling me on his sword." The horned God explained, sighing in contentment as the blissfulness of health replaced the pain.


    "Heh, impaled." Cegorach held back a chuckle, but the other male was unimpressed by the last part. It was irking how little respect the Dark King held toward his position, but that was the path Kurnous was threading on, and there wasn''t a way back.


    If he could be affected by such things, then everything was well. Only in good times do minor inconveniences become glaring. A new page of history was turning for the better. It might be a hasty conclusion, but the largest hurdle had passed, and now they had to trust and obey their new Godking, for they had pledged their eternal loyalty to him¡ªin life and death.

 60. Three Wishes

    Grabbing the edge of my golden flower-shaped pod¨Cwhere I had been resting¨CI delicately pried it open and floated out. My long tail whipped in the air as I stretched, groaning loudly in contentment.


    The pain from being repeatedly stabbed was gone, the sweet agony defeated, utterly shattered in the face of Isha''s life-giving power; there wasn''t even a dull ache remaining. Yet a tiny fraction of me was disappointed the suffering was gone, a little part I would destroy, but all needed to be done in due time.


    It was an incredible sensation, to say the least, one I hadn''t been the most familiar with back in the war, as injuries requiring my sister''s full attention rarely, if ever, occurred. Unless forced or part of a scheme, I didn''t recklessly rush into the fray. Why do so when I can punch someone from the other side of the Milky Way?


    Well, that was an exaggeration, but the sentiment was there. My range was virtually limitless, but my ability to express my might through it was not. In addition, my rings were numbered, could be overwhelmed and broken, and the teleportation could be slowed down too. Otherwise, I would have just thrown every C''tan in the Well of Eternity a precise set of spells.


    It was immensely powerful, the strongest and most versatile aspect of my being, but it wasn''t all-powerful.


    My eyes locked on the Aeldari woman to welcome me, Aeldari in shape only, that is. Oh, and if the Aeldari woman could defy the definition of beauty.


    "How do you feel, Hoopa? Is there any variable I may need to be aware of? Your wounds were extensive and deep. Truthfully, I''m uncertain if the damages were directly upon your uncorrupted form; I could have brought you to health. You were lucky." Isha said softly, shuffling at me as she worriedly looked over my body, sending several psychic pulses to check if I was alright.


    Unnecessary, but I appreciated the emotions behind it.


    "I suppose so¡­ And excellent regarding my injuries, as always your work is miracles made manifest if only the locks ''Mother'' put on you could be lessened. This entire space drama could be aborted. I suppose that''s a problem for a later date." I finished with a full-blown snarl. I wasn''t the only one to have programming implemented; programming I was thoroughly powerless against.


    In Isha''s case, she was the greatest biomancer; life was her to manipulate without limit, yet she couldn''t directly alter species in a way that was autonomously self-replicable, particularly Krorks and Aeldari. She was heavily restricted outside of combat and healing. Logical from the point of view of the frog bitch, but hateable nonetheless.


    She couldn''t modify herself or any of us. No growth outside of the number of worshipers was possible. Again, it is logical and unbreakable unless you find precise loopholes. It was always that, and that was getting dull. Rules and restrictions always and evermore.


    The Necron was one of those loopholes. They weren''t alive; it was a healing process. It was among why she couldn''t fix the errors in Khrave''s biology born of my mistake and subsequent panic, but she could bless them with good health and fertility instead. It was very arbitrary.


    There were many such cases among us; it was vicious, but at least my kids began to understand what had been our status, the gravity of the situation, and why I did what I did. Despite hate, spite, and rage fueling my actions more than anything remotely righteous.


    We had been tools, no more, no less, coded to act a certain way and obey orders without questions.


    "She-Who-Thirst remains, and I would say the same. But¡­ I was made to be sealed¡­ intact or not. I have a plan. It was a poor idea from the beginning to attach those vile concepts to me, a grave mistake." I added with the beginning of a smile. Oh, indeed, it was a significant problem, but none. I couldn''t work around it the more I thought about it.


    Nothing permanent, but that was an absolute, an unrealistic ideal God or mortal. And it didn''t require permanence to be effective. It showed it was a desperate attempt on me.


    "Indeed, I¡­ could do little for that parasitic percentile of your essence. I tried to isolate it, but it fought back, and the result was an imperfect blockade, as infuriating as it is to admit. It would do, I suppose." She breathed, "Remember that you are not alone, my King. I will do my utmost to assist you. We mustn''t repeat the mistakes of the past; you have opened the path forward, and we will follow you in the darkness. You are our guide, our savior, our only way."


    "Then let''s proceed and be proactive." I clapped two of my hands while the four others clasped together, partly fusing as pentagrams were invoked. My form rippled before dividing into two perfect copies, or that''s what it appeared at first glance.


    In truth, I merely existed simultaneously at two different points in the current time continuum, a partial shift into the fourth physical dimension blatantly taken from Morai-Heg and Cegorach. Copying was one of my greatest strengths. I wasn''t as proficient as any of my family in their given crafts, but I could do them all. It was my magic.


    The two were one, and they were my body. There wasn''t an increase or decrease in power. It was neither division nor multiplication. If one were wounded, the other would be in equal amounts. But even if wrongly said, it was easy to mistake it for cloning; after all, I could seamlessly move my two bodies¨Cone in reality¨Cin diametrically opposite manners.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    It was horrendous for battle outside of extremely specific situations, but for the present, it was perfect. I couldn''t waste time, and I had a promise to hold.


    "I have an important discussion I have postponed with the one who freed me, Isha." The me to the right intoned and, without further ado, vanished in a golden loop, leaving the left me.


    "Let''s call the Pantheon and begin the planning properly." I declared, and the first council of this new Pantheon began.


    ?????


    At the same thousands of times, light years away within the confined fragments of Realspace, kept isolated from the wider universe, and the Warp itself was a planet of green and blue. Beautiful as it may be, it was a life-bound planetoid like countless others.


    Yet it remained unique, chosen and favored by an alien divining of origin not so alien from this planet. A golden ring flickered into existence at the highest peak of the planetoid''s largest chain of mountains, and from it, the deity in question hovered down on the world.


    "Quite the pretty sight." Hoopa hummed pensively, making a rectangle with his finger and a flash of light, later shaking the photo he took before throwing one of his rings, "Earth remains Earth, beautiful as ever."


    "Now¡­" He trailed off, snapping his finger, causing a massive throne of immaculate gold to exit a ring and delicately place itself on the rocks ground that suddenly had flattened. At the same time, this entire portion of the mountain became invulnerable to nothing less than the energy of the Sun''s surface.


    ''Zenith Dominion, Asuryan did neglect you.'' That was the name of this throne¨Ca ziggurat in shape but a small mountain in overall size¨Can artifact damaged by its uses and time. Yet, it remained the weapon that once upon a time held against the full might of the Infinite Empire of the C''tan and the gates of the Ghostwind, a realm older than Creation where nothingness itself was erased.


    But for now, it served as suitably comfortable seating, one the Archdjinni of the Rings permanently borrowed from the Celestian Enclave two seconds ago.


    Not that its owner was in the position to protest, but that was unknown to Hoopa, and he wouldn''t care. He couldn''t use it anyway. By design, it classed against his divinity of Darkness, the necessity of his energy inside to properly function, and the reason why.


    "That should do it." He mumbled, making himself comfortable on the throne of mass destruction. If there was an image of opulence and excess within the realm of sanity, the Aeldari God of Magic was its perfect image.


    His tail lazily flicked left and right behind him while he held up a hand below his beard, two others clasped the armrests, a fourth was waving a fan of dark purple light toward him, and a fifth was plucking pastries from somewhere.


    The sixth and final one was pointing in front of him where the golden ring that once around this same wrist had moved and expanded into a portal. It didn''t take long for the person on the opposite side to walk out, a human male, but one glance was enough to see he was more, far more, yet simultaneously less. A walking contradiction of a man, his pupils were glowing of the purest light and his hair of the darkest abyss, but his visage was oddly unremarkable, as one mildly handsome farmer could have.


    Neither of the two were humans, yet only one had the right to say he had ever been one. The first lost it by force, and the second agreed never to have it. Both were tools, yet only one had a choice. Such was the divine irony between Light and Darkness.


    "Hello again, El Shaddai." Hoopa greeted smoothly, his sixth hand placed in front of the Perpetual for him to walk upon.


    "Fath¨CHoopa." The man caught himself doing as wordlessly prompted and declared, staring into the dreadful eyes of the Devil, "I have made my three wishes."


    "You remember my rules, no? No demanding for more wishes, no control of the will of others and oneself, and no alteration of the two above or any of our closes." The human nodded, and Hoopa smiled, a predatory smile full of sharp teeth. A smile that seemed illusory as it vanished when he clapped two hands, silencing the eternal blizzard surrounding them.


    "Then play tell; I''m all ears, my little light." The Archdjinni of the Rings told, shifting to smoke to rematerialized with his head tilted at an angle deadly to most mortal races and a broad smile accompanying the motion. God was enjoying this exchange.


    There was a moment of silence.


    "I wish for Humanity to be free of outside influence¡­ until they are prepared." El Shaddai said evenly for his first wish, and the sharp giggle he earned was as anticipated.


    "Clever, very clever. That can be arranged: no Daemons, no aliens, no Gods, and no nothing not born of Mankind progress from then henceforth under my vigilance shall affect humans as a whole. Though, a hint: you should have used ''interact'' if you wanted to be thorough. I don''t want Cegorach screaming he won''t see the rise of memes. I''m grateful." Hoopa babbled, snapping his finger, and a dark sphere flowed out of the boy that would be king''s body.


    "I wish for the knowledge and wisdom of the cosmos, of reality and unreality." It was his second, and this time, it was a whistle of excitement with a massive eye staring at his soul he got.


    "You''re lucky I''m not malicious¡­ toward you. Sometimes things are better left unknown." Hoopa said darkly, existential dread flashing in El Shaddai at the sudden shift in presence, the Dark King in its truest form, "That would be an arrogant demand even for the likes of the Architect of Fate, an impressive fit of vacuous foolhardiness. You are bold, very bold. I''m not omniscient, yet I can grant this demand¡­ given time. I hope you understand. For now, accept this: a droplet in the oceans of magic. A truth seldom any can accept without falling to the deepest pit of despair, less so who can climb their way up."


    A clawed finger delicately touched upon the Perpetual forehead, and he screamed. A scream like none other, it was raw, feral, and primal. He cried blood from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth as a fractal of the truth of the universe was carved into his brain, uncaring for the pain it might cause.


    -You should have been less vague.


    ~.- The taunting voice rang in his pounding head, adding to the maddening agony. El Shaddai didn''t know how long he screamed, but then it all faded into crystal clarity, and he understood.


    "Woah¡­" It was the complex string of words that left his lips as he stood up and shook his head, the blood turning to ash under his power and his hair combing back in a clean cut.


    El Shaddai would say he was angry¨Ca large understatement¨Cand that wouldn''t be false, but compared to what he learned¡­ he couldn''t muster the will to act or even show it. It would be childish as well. He understood the scale of his wish even if he believed he had before.


    He was so small, so insignificant, so powerless and pointless. He hated it. He wanted it to change, to prove Hoopa¨Chis Father, no matter his non-acknowledgment of that reality¨Cwrong, to show his worthiness that he was more. This sensation¡­ It was visceral, euphoric, and horrific at once.


    "What is your third, my little light? Be mindful of what you ask. This is your last and final wish. Once said, there is no walking back." The divine djinni touted, changing position yet again after turning to shadowy smoke. Two of his floating armless talons were holding his chin while his body was splayed on the golden throne. His gaze was merry and fixated on the Perpetual.


    "I wish to understand humans, to experiment with what it is, to grasp their chaotic emotions and how they are but remain as is. In my travels, I never felt this spark; it was always beyond me. Anger, joy, fear, sadness, and more I have, but they are in dissonance to all I have met." And the third came; Hoopa was silent until he exploded in laughter, a genuinely happy, if confused, laugh that shook the world.


    "Forget what I said. The second wish was modest. You want to have the complete human experience yet remain a demi-god. Ah! It''s commendable, but that''s not how things work. But if that''s your wish, then so be it. You will need patience. You don''t enforce those things, and you resist the idea of lowering yourself, then it''s the contrary, you must do, family, friends, enemies, it''s for you to decide. I would assist per your wish, but be warned, I''m on my side. Goodbye!" Hoopa declared and warped himself away, leaving behind the strange throne and El Shaddai atop the mountain.


    But Hoopa was kind. A portal ring present leading to where the human had been before coming here popped up.

 61. Knitting the Divideds

    Thinning an elegant string of darkness in its purest, most primal form between my clawed fingers, I directed my gaze at my kin brothers, sisters, and niece. My other myself has finished our part of the contract with the infant Lumen of Light and rejoined me.


    And these were quite the unconventional wishes, to say the least, aside from the second, the secret of the arcane and the universe. It was something even the dullest of Ork would have desired to possess at some point. It was akin to asking for infinite power.


    Funny. It was near impossible to obtain, and since El Shaddai kept his mind relatively quiet¨Chis budding divinity blinding me enough to stop most of my passive gleaming¨CI didn''t force myself in either. I was in the dark, and it would spoil the fun,


    I doubted a deeper hidden purpose beyond having me be an encyclopedia he could contact when the necessity arose, and I was able and willing. I controlled the flow. Not that I had any problem with that; a bit of entertainment never hurt.


    I had the obligation to answer what he wished, but the how, where, and when were for me to decide unless El Shaddai specified otherwise, which he didn''t. From there, a wish was a destination, not the myriad paths to walk toward its finalization.


    But the first and last were fascinating.


    The first wish regarding protecting Humanity until it was ready was what I would have done aside from my protective veil being lifted the moment humans reached the budding stage of the second stage of civilization by controlling the Sol System.


    I wonder what he is planning. There are countless possibilities, but I would bet on a mago-technological empire. A societal system he would need help to support, maintain, and rule. It tied to his third wish. At least for me, I cared little for what he had in mind beyond making it interesting and worthwhile. Oh, and most importantly, that it didn''t end with humans going extinct.


    This wish was shockingly cute, and many would deem it a heresy of the highest order with how ridiculous it sounded and what a waste it was. And they wouldn''t be wholly wrong in their observation.


    However, wishing for an understanding of the ''Human condition'' remained agreeable. What was ridiculous was having the audacity to want this without having to actually lower oneself permanently. It didn''t help me take him seriously, and why I didn''t see a problem in being a bit of an asshole.


    It was an absolute necessity to understand how a human could actually be human. My memories may be shattered fragments, but I understood mortality; it was a near-impossible wish from my little light.


    It was genius in its madness. He or they¨Cfrom the many he once was¨Csacrificed their combined humanities to become what he was. It had been an obligatory step to obtain a cognizant individual with the adequate soul, body, and mind trifecta.


    Well, in truth, there was an easy answer to that. I could go and seal his mind, soul, and body to falsify a mortal existence from newborn to death, but that was boring and ultimately useless. To make it work, permanent damage and alteration needed to be done. Or complete mind control, but I naturally despised this affront to free will, and it went against one of the rules I set up.


    Getting El in a bit of his own family was one of the best ways to make him understand humans, quite like what he did in an alternate future that will never come to pass. I wasn''t blind to him being the equivalent of the Emperor; he was the closest to that, even if it hadn''t been my intention. It was an amusing coincidence.


    It never would be perfect¨Ca meaningless word in and of itself¨Cbut his wishes weren''t absolute since neither was I. I wasn''t limitless.


    But I have a plan forming in my mind that would bridge my little light demand into an acceptable and entertaining result. An excellent plan that would entertain me for the next dozen millennia and beyond. Nothing nefarious, of course. I was mischievous, not evil, and I didn''t desire true harm upon him.


    Overall, it went smoothly, and I was satisfied with the result. He did not disappoint, even if my expectations weren''t very high or normal by any metric that mattered.


    While a part of my mind was pondering on those three wishes, I listened to the response regarding my plan relating to the fate of our little godly family.


    Nothing remarkable, really. I wished for peace and stability, a far simpler goal than any of El Shaddai''s wishes.


    "Ah, let''s do our greeting with the axe of animation, just in case, you said¡­ Indeed, you are a great diplomat, my King." Cegorach quipped sarcastically at a part of my plan regarding the fate of the other half of our family.


    "Compared to Khaine, I''m. For all intents and purposes, we must act with the consideration that they desire our destruction. It''s an extreme, but I prefer prevention over destruction and healing." I drawled, and he chuckled, his head spinning around. He was the Jester of my court, and his role was vital. He was to challenge me, to spark conflict, and to break patterns.


    Cegorach wasn''t a mere clown to be laughed at, but it wasn''t him who let out the answer that followed.


    "It is sound and logical to proceed through this plan, Hoopa, I agree." Kurnous sighed, "It is saddening, but the truth remains unwavering unless there is a wish to be under the care of my Consort¡­ if survival is possible, which is unlikely. Our pious brother of the blade wouldn''t be up to the way of hearing our words of peace, but he would delight at listening to our dying wails of despair. We must be prepared for the worst and expect even worse."


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    "In the end, the Fate of this reunion is within the palms of Morai-Heg''s hands," Lileath added with a hint of defeatedness. It wasn''t at the prospect of a loss, however. The Goddess of Dream didn''t want a war, nothing more, nothing less, and I agreed, but¡­ reality unfortunately relegated to those matters seldom proceeded as desired.


    I would say Life was a bitch, but Isha didn''t deserve to be called that.


    "Palm and hand," The Great Harlequin astutely corrected, "If and if only our theory relating to the divinely infused blades is correct."


    A simple hypothesis relating the highest possibility of where those five were from the tricephalic Goddess. Hypothetically, she conceptually sacrificed part of her existence. With Vaul, she crafted those weapons numbering to five like the finger of a hand¡­ or the toes and feet she would have amputated and used as raw materials.


    But as amusing the thought was, Morai-Heg wouldn''t have chosen anything but a hand. It held greater symbolism, and it honestly probably never crossed her mind.


    "We are of one mind then?" I queried and earned nods and words of affirmation. Great. I love it when things go together.


    "Excellent then, now let''s proceed forward." I declared, standing up from my throne, and the four Aeldari Gods and Goddesses followed suit from theirs''. They were their original thrones, but they were a bit scuffed from the Celestian Enclave explosion caused by my failed reformation into Slaanesh, but they were still usable.


    I lifted the hands that had been playing with the string of purified darkness and tied the tip into an elegant knot at the center of the pentagram I invoked.


    It was to be noted that the frog bitch had created us with the capacity to seamlessly function as one¨Ca team of the highest order¨Ca talent we had abused at every possible opportunity. It was how Khaine had been so powerful when he shouldn''t have been stabbing me and fending off the combined effort of the three Demonic Cancers to protect me. It wasn''t his might alone he wielded.


    It was how the War in Heaven was won despite my treachery, hidden as a sacrifice for the greater good. We didn''t fight fair, and we mastered the art of selfless teamwork, something that was alien to the C''tan.


    Anyway, the spell I was weaving was with that purpose in mind. It was a poor version of the Zenith Dominion, but it would amply suffice against Khaine and Asuryan.


    The dark string, then following my will, unraveled into five even thinner threads. Extending a hand, I beckoned Isha to go first. The Goddess of Love grabbed the thread of darkness in her dainty fingers and invoked her divine symbol¨Ca crying eye¨Cshe tied my magic to it, creating a positive feedback loop between us. Cegorach followed after that with his own, and then it was Kurnous''s turn who tersely did, and ultimately, it was little Lileath.


    From the strongest in a decreasing order.


    Once this little ritual was done, I opened a portal to our destination, and I threw a ball of black chains within. Pleased with a lack of reaction¨Cpotential traps of Vaul and a lack of any immediate danger¨CI opened a second portal; this time, the ring massively expanded until it could fit all of us together and some more.


    I floated through the portal, and without worded order, the four of my kin followed. The other side was the confines of Elgra''telweue, one of the key artificial fortress worlds of the Labyrinthine Dimension built to support a Golden Gate and control the area.


    It was a vast structure of wraithbone and psychically inclined technology averaging in size that of a small Craftworld. They possessed their cities, farmlands, and subcultures. Thanks to the evacuation now, none of it was present or of use, but it was a temporary setback.


    The sound of wings beating snapped me out of my observation. Lileath was airborne, her bow in hand and the string of pearly light held with three infernal arrows of nightmare ready to be drawn. She turned to us and spoke.


    "I will scout the perime-" She couldn''t finish her sentence when a serrated blade oozing blood and hellfire appearing out of a fissure in time perforated her heart. A blood-curdling scream escaped her mother''s lungs, a morbid sight, and she was the first to act.


    Her spear was held straight at the head of Khaine, exiting the fissure in reality from which he must have been awaiting our coming.


    "How considerate of you, my elder brother, to welcome us in person," I said grandly to the massive God in burning bronze armor glaring at me with a murderer in his big ol eyeball of molten stones.


    He was angry, pissed off, I might say, and the way he batted the blade of the Merciful Mother and directly slapped her like a fly with such force and speed no creature that wasn''t divine would even perceive it spoke volumes. Her momentum would have carried her thousands of clicks away without a quick portal nearby.


    "Betrayer¡­" He called, barely restrained rage in his voice, "Betrayer¡­ BETRAYER! YOU ALL ARE BETRAYERS!! TRAITORS, LOWLY FILTHS OF THE EARTH AND HEAVEN!"


    Kurnous didn''t fare any better as he did to a reckless charge of his own in retaliation to his Consort. His staff was held dramatically high, but it had no uses. His brave effort earned him the mirage of a punch in the face¨Cturning his jaw into pulverized godly mush¨Cand a dreadful armored hand with talons in the abdomen bursting from his back in a gory shower.


    "NOOOO!" Isha wailed, raw despair and terror in her voice. Tears akin to constellations trailed down her cheeks. Gone was the motherly kindness and love; only remaining was the grief, tragedy, and destruction of a once hopeful Goddess now throwing her very existence into the deathly crucible to avenge her fallen daughter and husband.


    What a sight. This time, it wasn''t only a slap; Khaine also awarded her. A gift in the form of a pillar of liquified searing bronze engulfed her neck and head, halting her charge with little effort.


    She flailed, screamed, and cried in vain. The burning bronze evaporated her tears as it crawled over her face, forever disfiguring. Her blonde hair turned to ash, leaving a welting scalp. Her healthy pink blemishless skin slowly melted off, showing the fat, muscles, and bone underneath. Her eyes popped out, and the new openings like her nose, ears, and mouth were drowned in the molten slag.


    What a sight indeed.


    "He is¡­ disappointing, even for him," Cegorach stated matter of factly to my side where Isha, Lileath, and Kurnous, all in perfect condition stood with varying degrees of discomfort for the two Goddesses.


    "Khaine was never the cleverest," Isha added sulfuric acid to the open wound, and I chuckled.


    "He is an attack dog; he knows how to bite, but that is the extent of his limited talent pool and mental capacity. And he lost his master¡­ as he currently is, he is no better than a rabid animal." I trailed off, observing the two remaining¨CHoopa and Cegorach¨Cjumping at him and getting ripped apart in a show no less graphic than Isha''s.


    It was fascinating to observe, if a bit sad that the God of Slaughter didn''t get it yet that he was fighting falsehood and lies. It meant Morai-Heg wasn''t helping him, however, or he wasn''t listening. They made an excellent duo for that reason, he was the muscle, attacker, and tank and she was the brain and support.


    Even with Asuryan blessing him with boundless energy and Vaul''s armaments, he lacked the critical part of his strength; a tactical mind.


    "He needs to be chained, or put down, and the second is unacceptable." And that''s what unfolded after the words left my fanged maw. Our ''corpses '' detonated one by one, and from these sudden explosions appeared dark chains cumulative in their totality to six hundred and sixty-six.


    Khaine would have been able to dodge under any other circumstances, but he was too close to them. His ability to think was limited, to begin with, and now it was impaired further by his rage-fueled, and the booby-trapped puppets of the Great Harlequin were strewn in a way that perfectly encircled him. There weren''t any more techniques done and redone by Cegorach and me, but they always worked.


    The Bloody Handed God tried to resist, and his efforts were in vain in a reversal of the beat down he did to the false us. Chains locked on his wrists, feet, neck, chest, shoulders, and head, and the horned helmets aggravated his predicament to unprecedented heights.


    I gestured to Cegorach to stop the illusion hiding us and my smile grew wider at the widening eyes of Khaine. There must be a lot going on in his head, but I wasn''t going to torture him.


    "Go to sleep." I intoned tightening the chains, sealing away his power in them, and forcefully pulling him into stasis by plucking precise strings of his soul.


    "That was¡­ simple. Too simple." Lileath let out with a frown gently kicking the puppet that had represented her.


    "You are correct, my niece. My Consort''s survival depends on this, as does mine, Vaul and Asuryan." Three feminine voices, one young, one elderly, and one between both spoke aloud in unison from behind us.


    I turned around, my eyes traveling to the missing arm, then higher to nine other than the Crone herself, the Aeldari Goddess of Fate. It was a pleasant surprise and explained a lot, though one thing needed to be asked.


    "It has been a long time, Morai-Heg. Where is Asuryan?"


    "Asuryan? He is alive-" The oldest one chuckled darkly, "-but I revoked the right of his crown©\" the middle-aged added, and the youngest finished dramatically, "-for only one King is worthy of its authority, you my King."


    Then she kneeled, fully anchoring herself in the present at her most vulnerable.


    ''That''s how it is then.'' I thought and tilted my eyes toward hers and said with finality, "Let us not be enemies, Morai-Heg; let us rebuild and heal from the rubble and ash of the past. The choice is yours."


    "I wholeheartedly accept, oh Dark King." Her three heads bowed, and my grin grew even higher, "Then let us continue."

 62. Darkness

    I gazed at the Flask of Sealing¨Cmy prison¨Can object I have come to hate almost as much as ''Mother. A feat seldom few were capable of earning this kind of intention from me.


    I wasn''t hateful. I was petty, not hateful.


    Khaine was imprisoned under my decision, but my hate wasn''t mutual with his blinding rage. He was a particularly dislikable annoyance of a brother. Still, he would remain in the deepest layer of the Vault in arcane and temporal stasis until the Pantheon managed to break the chains enforced on us.


    He had crimes to pay for. It was hypocritical of me, but I was king, and my words were laws. The Phoenix King didn''t punish him for murdering countless for no reason other than an inane vendetta and breaking and enslaving Vaul, to name only the greatest. I won''t be so pathetically lenient.


    As for Asuryan, I never was a fan of his. It wasn''t exclusively his fault. He had been engineered to be a wholly loyal puppy by the frog bitch. He was a victim as much as I was, but regardless, he had been complacent and incompetent, and his punishment was comparatively extremely lenient.


    He bent the knee and dutifully obeyed my every call, simple as that. He was honestly pitifully pathetic, a hollow shell following my words almost robotically. You can never hate the Old Ones enough, a lesson I repeatedly learned.


    Extensive work was required for me to hate you.


    The Aeldari of the Empire managed that with the Dark Muses merely standing above. They were puppets in a game of inane schemes and manipulations and delighted in their suffering, helplessness, and terror. But truth be told, it was the Chaos Gods¨Cthe abominable psychic gestalt of failures¨Cthe Changer of Ways, Tzeentch in particular, I hated¡ªan upstart arrogant fool of the highest order.


    I don''t hate the tumors for what they were; it was for their action in the past and future. They chose aggression over diplomacy by failing to force me into transforming into She-Who-Thirst. And quite a cathartic failure it was for me and catastrophic for him.


    I would have never let them be free for what they represented, but it was an amusing way for them to build a self-fulfilling prophecy.


    Still, this inanimate object that was the Flask of Sealing was above the unsightly cuttlefish two-bit magician in my hate checklist. It was far less rational here, but that changed little to my need for it. Two bits magician as the bird and cephalopod may be, the wound done was infectious.


    It couldn''t be healed. It couldn''t be stopped. It couldn''t be halted. But nothing was absolute.


    Biting one of my eighteen fingers, I drew the runes for the ritual to come with the black tar-like blood upon the Blackstone pedestal handmade by a grumpy God of Crafting, where I placed the Flask of Sealing.


    I didn''t fear any trap put into it; it wasn''t how Vaul mind worked. He was too straightforward, and I made certain he wouldn''t try something funny, something surprising in my commission. The pact we made after the Crone submitted to my rule, while it wouldn''t have killed him, was thorough.


    If I wanted him to cease existing, I would do so myself. He would be utterly powerless against my judgment, but this was an extreme that shall never pass. My dear brother was shaken and in need of time. He was infuriating at times but among the greatest victims of the Old Ones.


    My claw tips, coated with an endless supply of my blood, trailed on the Blackstone, in the air and the void, on time and space themselves. Wherever they were, wherever they passed, reality and unreality sizzled, melting into the primordial soup of the dawn of Creation, anchoring the runes into the fabric of all that was, is, and would be.


    I was working my magic.


    My jaws were clenched tight, but my movements remained supremely steady and controlled as burning agony flared through five points. Each was a Cronesword¨Cthe names of the blades used by Khaine to stab me¨Cand it was Isha and Morai-Heg using them on me.


    They trimmed the undesired, separating what must be separated and dividing to isolate the fraction of the whole from my very soul. While the duo of Goddesses operated on me, I continued the ritual; it was a delicate balance, but ultimately, it was relatively simple.


    ''Show yourself, little parasite¡­'' I internally cooed, shifting my soul, and the pain gained magnitude, showing my effort proved effective. It was deeply rooted, and ripping out wasn''t an option.


    ''Show you-! Got you!'' A growl boomed from the deepest recess of my chest as my body contorted from the pain that felt so wrong and good at once.


    A distorted, screaming moan escaped my lungs. It was one of raw, conflicting emotions of joy, rage, pride, helplessness, despair, hatred, and confusion, but the motion of my floating hands never ceased or grew any less effective. Like a well-oiled machine, their task remained unperturbed.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I would like to say it was solely the result of my willpower, but a spell was put in place beforehand. I won''t take any chances, and my pride holds no importance before my safety and freedom. My paranoia would not allow such infantile mistakes.


    It brought memories I would have wished to forget from when my humanity was shredded, altered beyond hope of salvaging, and reformed into what I was once upon a time.


    My tail lashed at these painful thoughts and the ongoing physical torment. The arrow-tipped limb bashed behind me with the force to shatter smaller moons. But a barrier manifested from the chains around, saving Isha from being flung into a nearby pillar and the five next.


    She was unflinching.


    Another precaution, the dark chains proved effective in restraining potential rampage, but if it didn''t suffice¡­ it was a contingency among hundreds. No risk was permitted. No leakage was allowed. No mercy was given.


    I had enough.


    Enough to be a pawn, an object to be used and thrown away¨Ca thing lower than a tool. No more. From then onward, no Master would ever take control. And Slaanesh, a depraved part of my existence twisted by the Aeldari Empire and its puppet masters, would have no sway over me¨Cnever. No matter how minute it might be.


    There would be no little game enforced on me, no color around my neck, and no obstruction to my path.


    "I?''?M? ?H?O?O?P?A?,? ?K?N?O?W? ?M?E? ?A?S? ?T?H?E? ?A?R?C?H?D?J?I?N?N?I? ?O?F? ?T?H?E? ?R?I?N?G?,? ?T?H?E? ?D?A?R?K? ?K?I?N?G?,? ?T?H?E? ?M?A?S?T?E?R? ?O?F? ?A?L?L? ?R?O?U?T?E?,? ?T?H?E? ?R?O?O?T?S? ?O?F? ?A?L?L? ?M?A?G?I?C? ?A?N?D? ?T?H?E? ?D?A?R?K?N?E?S?S? ?O?F? ?A?L?L? ?E?N?D? ?A?N?D? ?B?E?G?I?N?N?I?N?G?!?" I chanted, my heart hammering as my words echoed in the highest order of Anoqey?n¡ªmy ''bastardized'' version of the Song of Creation.


    The six hundred and sixty-six runes that I carved lit up at once in a pale, ominous, foggy purple and fleshy pink. My symbol, the encircled five-pointed stars¨Cthe pentacle¨Cmanifesting in the epicenter above my bare torso.


    It was me as me, but parts were undesired. In the middle, tainting my symbol was two curved scythes on one line connecting to a full circle with eight jagged arrows jutting at equal distances¡ªa Mark of Chaos.


    Yet it was more, far more¡­ It symbolized a Chaos God in its purest form or the form it could manifest in this plane of reality from its weakened state. It was a part of myself forced to become as such¡ªan abomination of the worst kind.


    It was a vicious seed of annihilation and one undeserving to know anything but endless darkness, wandering, and ignorance. It was the worst of what could be for a being of endless excess.


    I wasn''t blind to the irony of it all. I was seeking the same for my freedom, and I was sending a part of this self into eternal damnation. But it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for my safety.


    "U?N?D?E?R? ?M?Y? ?T?R?U?E? ?N?A?M?E? ?I? ?D?E?C?L?A?R?E? ?T?H?E?E? ?U?N?F?I?T? ?T?O? ?B?E? ?A?N?D? ?B?E?G?O?N?E? ?O?F? ?T?H?I?S? ?V?E?S?S?E?L. Y?O?U ?W?I?L?L?.? ?N?O?W? ?W?E?L?C?O?M?E? ?Y?O?U?R? ?P?R?I?S?O?N? ?A?S? ?I? ?Y?O?U?R?S?E?L?F? ?A?N?D? ?Y?O?U? ?J?A?I?L?E?R? ?B?A?N?I?S?H? ?T?H?E?E? ?T?O? ?E?T?E?R?N?A?L? ?N?O?T?H?I?N?G?N?E?S?S?." A horrific, soul-piercing screech of despair left my wide-open maw of fangs as the words left me.


    I cried blood as part of my being was taken out from the whole that I once was through my sisters'' efforts. I wailed. There was no greater pain and relief; I felt incomplete, wrong, missing an integral part of my soul¡­ yet I felt free of the toxic smog that had been clouding my mind and had vanished.


    The pain felt good but for an entirely different reason than moments ago. I didn''t hear the tantalizing whisper in my mind anymore. I did not wish endlessly for more. I was myself once more.


    Still, my hazy gaze was on the part of my soul and the tether between us. It looked like me but off¡­ too slender¡­ too feminine¡­ too masculine¡­ too curvaceous¡­ and more and less to appear as some twisted idealization that could never be. It was not me, and yet it was.


    I hated it. I hated what it represented.


    My final words echoed with a vengeance and vitriol, "I? ?C?U?R?S?E? ?T?H?E?E?!? ?B?E?G?O?N?E?!?"


    The Flask of Sealing was uncorked, and it vanished, turning to smoke and absorbed within. The bottle closed itself the next instant, and the six rings on it were taken and thrown into preemptively placed seals.


    Slaanesh was gone. But we were still one; what was done didn''t separate me. It sealed part of my soul, and it was painful¡­ oh so excruciating. It was as if my guts were twisted and ripped out, held by an invisible force into a different place, and the point of connection compressed.


    The power keeping my body afloat failed, and I fell to my knees. Dark blood intermixed with saliva, sweat, and tears trickled down my wheezing from into the afterglow of the ritual formation. A hole in the middle of my abdomen showing no internals remained unclosed.


    "It''s a success¡­" I whispered with difficulty; my throat was raw, my head was pounding, and my vision was blurry. My wide smile remained unchanging, however.


    It went perfectly. The hole will close as adequate worship fills. What was taken for what wasn''t damaged couldn''t be healed. Slaanesh was put elsewhere to never be important beyond an item in my collection. The largest threat to my life was taken care of.


    Happiness would do little to describe the extent of my state of mind.


    Still, I had more cleaning to do.


    ?????


    Slaanesh was no more.


    Yet war was spoken.


    One against the Primordial Enemies, the force of Chaos, the three Chaos Gods. Creatures of the Warp formed upon the congregation of every emotion, idea, and experience. Little terminology existed that would even begin to describe their power, the dread, and the futility that it was to fight then.


    It was madness to do so.


    But the rigged game was flipped, and the Ark of Life under the Aeldari Pantheon led by the Dark King did not abide by any convoluted rules. It was no fair battle.


    To even call it a battle would be erroneous. The barrier of the ancient king Asuryan had been shattered, and the Labyrinthine Dimension damaged, but the Aeldari Empire echo of destruction remained.


    There were no civilizations traveling the stars alive that weren''t part of the Ark. Any that would cohort with Chaos would see an Aeldari God or Goddess descend from the heavens from a golden portal and be cleansed in divine might. Treachery was answered swiftly and efficiently by the destruction of the soul.


    There were no battles, no grand fights, merely protection of mortals, of worshippers. Safety and prosperity were given, and the five pillars of Hoopa were respected. Conflict existed, but the Pantheon controlled their destiny under Morai-Heg''s guiding hand.


    It was a shell without cracks, an aegis. An unbreakable shield wielded to protect the lower life forms. Order against Chaos


    A battle across numberless worlds that couldn''t be one, for it wasn''t one. The fissures within the Well of Eternity proved insufficient. Omnipotence within one''s own personal realm was no omnipotence at all. Gods unable to alter the world alone were no Gods; they were parasites¡ªweaklings under a veneer of incomprehensible powers.


    It wasn''t a war. It was pest control and the Pantheon, the eradicator.


    The Great Game was broken, the pieces lost or broken, and the players in disarray.


    The far future of grim and darkness was never to come to pass.


    The power of technology and science was never to be forgotten and cease growth. The promise of progress and understanding was never to be forgotten under peace, for any other path was to meet annihilation. There was no war amongst the stars, no eternity of carnage and slaughter, only the laughter and tyrannical rules of primeval gods.