Opening File: The Queen of Daemons

What could be parched and pieced together of the origins of the Daemon Queen is as impossible as parching the origins of the Emperor himself, for her past is as mysterious as the Master of Mankind's. But our spies and allies in the Global Defense Force and the U.S. Government, along with the SCP Foundation, have found identifications pertaining to a possible origin point to the Daemon Queen.

Miranda White, known by her more commonly used moniker "Mandy", was born on January 17th, 2011, to Philip and Claire White in Endsville, California, a city that had been currently quarantined in secret by the Inquisition and the Foundation due to continuous reports of unnatural and supernatural occurrences. Mandy was described an odd child, never smiling and always possessing a flat and stoic expression in nearly any situation, further reports detailed that she possessed a supernatural charisma, able to convince others to perform any act she desired.

During her stay in Endsville, Mandy was constantly seen with a boy named William 'Billy' Horwitz, who's medical and psychological records suggest was inflicted with mental retardation, possibly from radiation or Warp energy exposure. However, multiple photographs and surveillance footage has shown the duo being accompanied by an abnormal entity that resembled a skeletal body clad in a black cloak and wielding a scythe, nearly matching the description of the commonly associated 'Grim Reaper.'

However, at the age of 9, after an incident with the city's nuclear plant, nearly all residents evacuated Endsville. This includes the White family who moved from Endsville to Megaville, Boston where she attended Megaville Elementary School alongside Billy. However, no sign of the reaper like entity could be ascertained from Megaville's surveillance records despite the best efforts of our undercover Inquisitors.

Three days after the opening of the Maw of Annihilation however, she disappeared. Her distraught parents notified the authorities before surveillance footage revealing that she had left her house around 8:00PM and traveled to Megaville Beach while carrying a bag filled with items. However, due to the minor amount of surveillance devices at the beach, the record of events after her arrival is... spotty at best.

However, it should be noted that warp radiation detectors measured absurd amounts of Warp residue at the beach, causing the Inquisition and the Foundation to close the beach off to prevent further contamination and to begin cleanup, disguising it as a chemical spill to the public.

After the full details of her disappearance were bequeathed to the parents, Philip and Claire soon divorced, but still reside in Megaville.

It was around this time when the rumors of the Daemon Queen spread through Imperial Intelligence before her existence was made known during the Second Battle of Moloch. The Lost and Damned seemed to have become organized under a new leader before the Shepard arrived and united them under his heel.

I shall provide more information should any further incremental data come from our Imperial spies.

-Oculus Imperia

Closing file

Mandy slowly walked home from school after yet another unbearable day of school, walking down Megaville's serene streets as she grumbled about how disgustingly optimistic Bubbles was; all her joy and cheeriness made her want to puke. Gaz and Olga were somewhat bearable, but still they were not her friends. Only due to the fact that school could end was the only reason she didn't shoot up the place and set it ablaze.

Her mind wandered back to when her and Billy bound the Grim Reaper to their will after beating him in a simple game. There, he showed her things that she never would have imagined, powers that would have allowed her to conquer the world, and creatures beyond human comprehension. Such was her dismay when Billy accidently undid their contract because of a stupid bet.

After that, she and Billy had rarely spoken since not that it mattered as Billy soon got over it when he became friends with Ed Hill. Ever since, they've gone their separate ways.

Still, she wished she could have gained that power, having all that she ever desired.

When Mandy got home, her parents immediately recoiled in fear as they always did when she came in. Her mother Claire came to her a beautiful woman with long strawberry-blonde hair that is commonly tied in a ponytail; big blue eyes, thick, dark eyebrows and pinkish-red lipstick. Her usual outfit is an orange sweater, olive-green trousers, and she also wears white flats whenever she's at home. Philip is a skinny man with brown hair and orange glasses. He wears an open dress shirt and brown pants, looking like he was trying to bring back the 80s.

Mandy merely rolled her eyes at their fear induced states and walked up to her room, not bothering to be waited on at the moment. While some small part of her would always smile at seeing fear of other people, with her parents, it just became tiresome.

She got into her room and laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling until that too bored her and then turned to the mirror and desk that she kept in there for some reason, looking at her reflection in a longing glare. Power. She wanted power. All the power she could ever gain and all she'd ever need.

Mandy found herself talking to her reflection like it was her worst enemy, "I seek power entirely for its own sake. I'm not interested in the good of others; I am interested solely in power. Not wealth or luxury or long life or happiness: only power, pure power."

Such was her burning desire for power that she caught the eye of not just one but all the Dark Gods in the Immaterium. Such was the great opportunity to come as was the time of the arrival.

Suddenly, a massive boom echoed through the city, causing Mandy to jump at the sudden noise, looking around to see what caused it. Then her eyes locked on at the Art Center, where a massive sphere of white slowly expanded outwards, consuming all that was caught in its radiance.

For once in her life, Mandy was genuinely and deathly afraid, trying to run only for her and her house to be consumed by the wave before she could even move from her bed.

For a moment, all was light. And then an odd stillness overcame her as all she saw then was darkness, spanning beyond the limits of her eyes. The feeling of something was boring into her soul, instilling a fear that nearly tore her apart, piercing into the deepest parts of her mind and laying seeds of discord that would blossom.

One felt like it possessed an intelligent unimaginable, capable of weaving a web of schemes and plans that would stretch into eternity with a hole in its center like a black hole was where meaning should have been, its form both one and a vigintillion, resting inside a crystalline labyrinth that changed so randomly that only the strongest of willed could navigate.

The second had an aura that was like a grandfather's, warm and inviting, capable of growing forests of flora and fauna of blasphemous nature while carrying plagues and monstrous ravages that turned the wheel of nature, its form rotund and bloated with disease and flora, resting in a garden of its greatest creations and stirring a massive cauldron filled with concoctions and plagues of horrid intellect.

The third terrified her as its aura was that of something composed of flames of rage, capable of destroying civilizations with the swing of its axe and reducing even the most passive of souls into blood craving madmen, its form that of an armored visage of Satan, resting on a throne of skulls in a realm of brass and blood where its mad followers spill the blood and entrails of their foes on the red sand.

The fourth was the most alluring as it emitted a radiance that drew her in like a fool, capable of perfecting any form of art including war and bringing of even the purest of souls low with its temptations and pleasures, its form male and female yet both and perfect, resting inside a silver palace of constant pleasure and excess of every form imaginable and unimaginable with hypnotic music and the screams of lost souls.

The fifth was the one that seemed the darkest as it emitted a blackness that devoured the light, capable of drowning entire planets in everlasting darkness and anarchy with its burning desire for destruction and death, its form a massive horror of grey fur and horns, resting in a dark field devoid of life and hope where it and its black armies reigned their dark will upon the multiverse in a ceaseless tide of death.

The sixth made her feel like she was drowning in the ocean as it felt as if it was the ocean itself, capable of flooding a planet a million time over in mere hours with a blazing need for stimulation and the need for adventure, its form one of a great shark with a ravenous appetite, resting in a dark ocean that spanned entire solar systems while its followers fought and raided each other and its amphibious guardians.

The seventh was more akin to an engine of death as it burned the fires of hate and ambition, capable of forging great masteries of craftsmanship from bronze and iron molten vats with its burning hate raging like an inferno of smoke and shadows, its form a massive great blazing bull of hate and bronze, resting in a forge where its blacksmiths eternally forged weapons of war and strife in its burning and shadowy hate.

The final one was the most maddening for it was madness and insanity given form and name, capable of reducing even the strongest of wills to insanity and adding to its courts of decadence and decay where its ambassador and masked lords dance eternally, its form a bound bandaged corpse on a black spiked throne, resting in an impossible city under a yellow sky with black stars and the smell of old flowers and wine.

Their names bore into her head like the brands on slave masters; Tzeentch, Nurgle, Khorne, Slaanesh, Malice, Stromfels, Hashut, and the Hanged King. More names filled her head; the One Who Knows Silence in The Earth, Nechoho, the Great Horned Rat, Archeon, Nuffle, Alluminas, Arianka, Solkan the Avenger and many others that filled her head with an everchanging madness.

It was too much. Her head couldn't hold it. She screamed into the darkness, but her mouth made no sound, grasping her head in a desperate attempt to make it go away, pounding against her skull and burning with the damning presence of these Gods. She found herself standing before them, their forms impossible for her to see in their eldritch grandeur.

Suddenly, it all went away in but a blink. She was back in her room, the voices were gone, and she was alright.

"W-W-What the hell?" Mandy breathed in a shaking tone, grindingly looking around her room to find that it had not been destroyed in the flash of light that blazed through the world.

"Mandy!" The blonde girl jumped when her mother's shout echoed through the house as the latter came upstairs in a panic, "Are you okay?!"

"I-I'm fine, mom..." Mandy muttered, still suffering whiplash from the sudden blackout and the sudden drag back to reality. Her father came up a moment later, just as scared as his wife and daughter before they all embraced in relief.

After a few minutes of calming down, the family went to the streets where several families and people existed their houses as they tried to find out if they knew anything about what the hell just happened... But none of them had a chance to talk to each other as they all looked up and saw the sky.

The sky was scourged in purple, pink, orange, and red, with Arora borealis of violet in countless number washing through the air. Each wave of light ripples through the air akin to the thundering ocean, gleaming and beautiful.

Yet they contrasted with what truly dominated the sky.

An immensurable tear in space, a storm of blackness surrounded a jagged slash of colors overlapping and intertwining, spasming tendrils expanding and contracting like the incessant motion of a million hearts beating unsynchronized. Further in the seizuring rift, a sphere of ebony and ivory held by strings of gold glazed its light across the world, letting the people hear the voice of their new god. The waves pulse in akin to a heartbeat from the rift, as if invading this primitive universe with such poignant madness.

Mandy could only stare on while her parents gaped in horror. Dexter's dad and Windbear looked at each other with shocked expressions while Dexter's mom and Oceanbird both covered their mouths in terror. The other people all were frozen in fear, reeling at this thing's appearance as some feeling started to crawl up their spines like something horrible had just come to their world.

Suddenly, Mandy felt like something was boring into her, like she had attracted the attention of several stars and their stares came down on her.

For Mandy all of the sudden, that tear in the sky... it was so beautiful.

2 days later...

Despite the massive thing sitting in the sky, Mandy found herself sleeping like a baby while her parents lately have to abuse their wine stash and knock themselves out-cold in order to sleep. She soon noticed that the other in her neighborhood were talking to each other while gazing up at the tear in the sky like it was the coming of the devil himself.

But Mandy had... odd dreams for lack of a better term where she awoke to strange seas blacker than the night sky. In the center of the ocean of black was a marble table with a book bound in human flesh and written in blood. The language was one that she didn't understand, but as she looked through it, it seemingly warped into English before her eyes.

As she began to read it in earnest, it was as if the words spoke to her.

Mandy felt the things from beyond her mortal perceptions, whispering into her like a dark thing from beyond the known. They spoke in hushed whispers, speaking of a way to give her more power than she could ever imagine. A ritual to begin her journey for power, becoming more than just an ordinary unit in a machine that was her period's society.

A chance to leave her parents, this stupid city, and all the annoyances with it, and then gain the power she always craved? How could she ever say no?

Following her agreement to their terms, the voices instructed her on how to begin this journey, before she grabbed a paper and wrote everything that they told her down, transcripting every letter and command onto the paper like it was some holy scripture. And so, the voices told her to make a plan to sneak out at night and go to spot in Megaville where the barrier between the Warp and realspace was at its thinnest.

Just as she wrote the last of her plan down, her mother called out, "Mandy?"

Mandy quickly opened a drawer on her desk and hid the paper in it as the voices silenced themselves. Her mother came in, looking concerned for her as she spoke to her daughter, "It's time for dinner, Mandy."

The blond girl merely rolled her eyes and came downstair while muttering, "Yes, mother."

She descended to the living room and walked to the kitchen where her father was waiting with the table set and the meal being steak, which Mandy sat down and starting eating. The family was silent as they ate the steak, Claire looked at her daughter as she opened her mouth but then closed it and shook her head, going back to eating her steak.

"Um... Mandy?" Philip gained the nerve to speak, flinching as Mandy's blank gaze turned to him, "Um... Anything interesting happen today?"

Sighing, Mandy looked down on her plate and lied, "No. Nothing interesting happened."

"Okay," Philip replied quietly, "Just remember Mandy, no matter what happens, we do love you."

Mandy gave no reaction but nodded, looking down at her plate as she cut a piece of steak off and ate it. After she finished eating, Mandy retreated to her room, leaving the table without another word.

She stared up at the ceiling, listening as the voices rose back up again and whispered to her again.

"It is time, child/spawn/kid/offspring/girl."

"Your moment is fleeting, dear girl!

"Your future filled with blood must begin now!"

"Go and fill your days with power and decadence, girl."

"Take to the seas and feel the power of Chaos!

"Forge your path with hatred and fire!"

"Join the madness and create something beautiful, Mandy."

Mandy raised a hand and looked at it for a moment, and then looked at the drawer where the paper was. In less than a second, she made her decision and the Gods cheered out.

Waiting until the tolls of night and her parents were wasted in an attempt to knock themselves out, Mandy opened the window and crawled out of her room with a duffle bag filled with the items she needed, climbing down from the house and hopped down onto the driveway. Mandy looked back at the house that her parents lived in, giving it a sad look before she shook her head. She chose to do this, if she gave up now, it would be meaningless.

Checking to make sure that the streets were clear, the blond girl ran through the streets, advancing to the spot where the voices said the Warp would be at its thinnest.

After almost an hour of running and getting lost and then finding her way back thanks to the voices, Mandy finally got to the place; Megaville Beach. Eventually after the voices told her the spot where the barrier was thinnest, she got to the edge of the beach and sat down, taking out the paper and setting the bag down. The blond girl than opened it, revealing several containers of powders and incense, several candles, a small stood so that she didn't have any chance of it being wiped away by the tide of water.

Mandy quickly set the stool down and quickly began to use the powders to draw a ritual circle and various unholy symbols of the Dark Tongue, setting up the candles and incense before lighting them, and then taking out another piece of paper that contained the incantation. The blond girl inhaled and exhaled, preparing to speak the words that would start her journey to greatness.

"Per omnia saecula omni tempore tempus infinitum Præcipio tibi aperiam."

As she reads, a wind began to circle around her like an oncoming storm.

"Universa mandata mea omnia convenient!"

Suddenly, Mandy floats off the ground with the circle and all its symbols igniting into a pyre of red flames.

"Omnium naturarum aperietur!"

Mandy's brown eyes then blazed dark red as the crimson smoke slowly coiled around like a swirling vortex.

"Omnia causa fiunt sine fine portas!"

The wind gets stronger as she screams out the last sentence.

"Ignosce mihi, Pater, QUIA EGO SUM EGREDIETUR PECCATUM!"

Her new power then flows to the winds, blazing as it shifts to matters and energies unfathomable to mortals. Red cracks rip open as the portal slowly opened to reveal a spiraling vortex awash in blood red with arcs of Warp lightning and gales that would demolish buildings. Mandy landed on the sand as the red flames consumed the stool and added it to the vortex. She noticed that several lights came on, likely the vortex waking up the people near the beach.

Realizing that she had to go before she attracted any unwanted attention, Mandy stepped through the portal.

As such, Miranda 'Mandy' White would not come back to Megaville unchanged.

Calixis Center

Scintilla

Hive Sibellus

238.M41

Mandy awoke in an alleyway, covered in rags as clothing and using a discarded trenchcoat three times her size as a blanket. Groaning, the blond street urchin got up from the makeshift bed she made for herself. Mandy was now 11 years old with her blond hair having grown past her shoulders and covered in filth, her body covered by a filthy beige shirt under a ragged brown cloak that big enough for it to be wore by a 17-year-old, tattered brown pants that were barely holding together, and dirty shoes that were as filthy as the streets.

Getting out of the alleyway, Mandy put her hood up and looks around at the hordes of vagrants, lowborn, degenerates, criminals, and retards running through the streets of the Underhive, almost joining them as she took to the sidewalks, most of the disgusting freaks ignoring her due to the fact that she was still a kid. The cloaked girl then looked around, looking up to the levels above her that seemed like it stretched out into the sky higher than anything ever built by mankind's hands, thinking about how she got here.

It was only a year after ending up here and already she experienced more than a thousand lifetimes of violence; the first time she killed was in self-defense against some creep who wanted her as his own toy, in which she grabbed a nearby knife and stabbed the neck, spraying her entire unclothed body in blood because he ripped her clothes apart.

After that, Mandy never even gave killing a second thought as she used it as a means to get her way through the Underhives. A month or two of killing to survive the Underhive, she quickly became addicted to street drugs to cope with near 24 hour killing before she then became an assassin for a great Ganger boss, who was greatly impressed by her ability to kill and butcher people. Soon, she gained a reputation among the degenerates, who turned to calling her the 'Butcher', due to her leaving quite a mess on every job. But due to her addictions to drugs, Mandy spent all the money that she'd earned with each killing, leaving her having to either sleep in the alleys or go to the boss' house and hid there for sleep or even sleep at the dealer's den.

Speaking of which, Mandy snapped out of her thoughts, seeing that she went to a seemingly abandoned building across the street next to a bar and a tattoo parlor, smoke coming from the windows that smelled like sweet burning plastic.

Mandy steeled herself for the possible humiliation and entered the building.

The inside of the den was awash in blacklight that showed all kind of vivid colored drawings and illustrations that decorated the walls and clothes of the various junkies and addicts that lounged around while high on whatever substances that the dealer had 'graciously' provided them. She passed a veritable pile of people whose brains were so cooked by substance abuse that they were so enveloped in, walking up a flight of stairs that led to the place that she hated most.

It was an open room with shelves and tables lining the walls that were filled with all kinds of bottles, chemistry sets, containers, all kinds of chemicals and compounds for the cooks in the back to make the supply to meet the demand. Across from her and behind several coked-out people of all ages, was a counter like that of a store counter where the dealer stood behind.

The dealer was a practically ancient man, with mottled skin and impossibly thin, more of a skeleton with skin stretched over it than a person, despite having a full head of bleached white hair. However, all semblance of humanity was marred by his mechanical eyes that didn't even attempt to seem natural, his nose and mouth covered in metallic breathing apparatus connected to twin tubes went under the skin along with several other that pumped godknowswhat in his body, likely to keep his shambling corpse body alive. On his back was a device that inflated and deflated like a pair of lungs, held onto him via a series of leather straps that covered nearly his whole torso, clear tubes went under his wrists and held by wristbands, his hands covered in gloves with claws and injectors, his lower body mercifully covered by a pair of brown slacks while his feet were uncovered.

This horrid face was Ranoc Sithea, a drug cook and dealer alone side all his various 'partners' and 'employees.' From what she heard from his substance cooks; he abused his own products so much that he needed the augments after overdosing and surviving a fire in the lab, and eventually he needed that breathing device because he smoked so many Iho-sticks that he ruined his lungs.

Regardless, he was the dealer least likely to stab her in the back, so she always had to go to him.

"Ah... my favorite customer." Ranoc said in a filtered and reverberating voice, drumming his fingers together, "What can I get you?'

"My usual." Mandy bluntly replied as she placed a brown bag of Thrones on the counter. The chemist opened the bag and began counting the Thrones while humming some lullaby that she never heard about, each coin tinkling against each other when he placed them atop each other. After a minute, the coins were all stacked before him as he hummed.

"Alright." Ranoc muttered as he went to a door on the wall behind him, opening it and entering. A minute later, and he comes back out with a basketball, placing it on the counter, the items inside fumbling around as it deflated. "Your usual."

"Thank you." Mandy thanked the man bluntly as she walks away, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the junkies on the floor. The blond assassin then walked to a secluded part of the building where there was a minimal amount of junkies around her, sitting down against the wall and opening the bag, revealing some packets of powder, a packet of Iho-sticks, and some glue wands.

Only at 11 years old and she was snorting drugs, sniffing glue, and smoking. Life is a fucked-up mistress.

Regardless of her self-disgust, Mandy opened one of the packages and dumped its contents onto the floor, using a knife to divide them up into lines and then snorting them all with a straw. It was the same with the other packages; open, cut, snort. Each time, it was like a blast in the face, sizzling inside her brain as the moments in her mind dissolved and became a stream, allowing her to relax from the stress of the nonstop killing.

The Iho-sticks were her favorite though, mostly due to the blue smoke that came from her smoking them. Especially since it calms her down enough to just back the glue-wands in her pocket for later. She slowly made her way out of the building, tipping Ranoc as she did so before leaving out the front door and onto the streets of the Underhive.

A ringing then came to her ear, causing her to turn to the bar that she was standing in front of her. There was a payphone near the entrance of the bar. Mandy knew who was calling as she turned her gaze to the phone and walked up to the machine, taking the phone off the hanger and bringing it to her ear.

"What's the target?" Mandy robotically said to whoever was on the other side of the phone.

"A gang. They're growing numbers are a threat to business if you know what I mean." The voice on the other line said, his voice filtered to prevent any Vanus assassins that maybe watching from eavesdropping, "Go to the designated block and take out the Dreadwings. You know what to do. After that, come to me for payment."

With that, he hung up and she hung the phone back on its hanger before she walked off to the block after some vagrant passed her a slip of paper, showing the address of the targets.

Eventually, after an hour of walking, Mandy came across a large warehouse, where one of the doors had a gang sign on it; a skull with claw like scars running down the right eye socket and a trio of blades crossed together behind it. The moment she came to the front of the warehouse, Mandy turned to a nearby vent that had a loosened covering on it.

Mandy rolled her eyes with a slight smirk, sometimes it was too easy. For once she was glad that she was still a kid, because her small size allowed her to get through the vents of the warehouse, which she did as she pried the covering open and crawled inside.

The vents were surprisingly open spaced, allowing her to crawl through them with more ease than the other vents she had to traverse through. As she reached the inner parts of the warehouse, she overheard the sounds of laughter, crashing, glass breaking, women moaning, liquid spilling, and absurdly loud heavy metal music. It seems that the gang was having a huge party for some reason.

An open vent revealed the interior of the warehouse, which was more like a night club than a warehouse, hundreds of gangers partying with alcohol, drugs, women, and heavy music that was almost as earsplitting as the sounds of celebration. What they were celebrating about, Mandy had an inkling when she heard the phrase 'Conquer the Underhive!' by the hundreds of gangers in the makeshift club.

Now she saw the threat the boss was talking about.

Quietly, Mandy crawled to the nearest vent that led to the corner of the room, pushing it open, and slowly emerging from the vents. She stood up, her face veiled in darkness by the shadow of her hood before a partygoer accidentally pumped into her while he stumbled back, buzzed on amasec.

"Huh?" the partygoer turned to see what appeared to be a hooded child wearing a cloak, their face obscured by shadows, "What the hell is a kid doing here?"

Suddenly, the hand that he outreached to the child was suddenly and bloodily removed from his arm. The partygoer screamed in pain and surprise, getting the attention of the others as they all turned to see the cloaked child holding a bloodied knife.

"THE BUTCHEEER!" One of the gangers immediately knew who the child was and raised his gun to light her up, only to have a knife embedded in his forehead, killing him instantly.

One woman that was partying with the gang tried to flee and open the doors when suddenly a bullet embedded itself in the button that was meant to open and close the door, sparking as it refused to activate no matter how frantically the woman pressed the button. Mandy sheathed the smoking gun and then three knifes in each hand before she leaped into the panicking crowd.

A couple dozen men were cleaved in half when Mandy flashstepped behind them, before several gangers tried to fire on her, only to get diced to pieces when her attention was turned to them. A woman tried to hide under the table, only to be shot in the head by Mandy. A few gangers tried to use chainswords to dice her to pieces, but she was too swift and quickly killed them by slicing them to bits. Several others attempted to swarm her with their superior numbers, but she quickly proved this to be a terrible idea as she began stabbing and slicing them to pulp.

Several stopped trying to fight her and just tried to escape with their lives. They didn't even have a chance to get out the windows before she cleaved them all in twain with her blades and guns. Others desperately tried begging for their lives, telling her they had lives and families, but she killed them anyway. Others tried to put on a brave face, but they ended up begging and pleading like kids before she chopped their heads off.

The last ganger desperately tried to scramble away from the Butcher, which was hard as his leg was cut off. He heard footfalls, turning his head to see the Butcher coming towards him. He clawed against the floor, yelling out in gibberish and fear at the cloaked slaughterer before his life was cut short with a knife through the back of the head.

Mandy ripped the knife out of his head, wiping the blood off her cloak before she looked over the warehouse. It was a bloodbath; tables were overturned, glasses were shattered, blood, bones, meat, and organs splattered over the walls, limbs and pulped bodies mixed with spilled alcoholic drinks, a horrid smell soon sulfating the room, and the entire place decorated in red.

She sighed, she really needed to stop leaving such messes on all her jobs, but she won't. Mandy then forced the doors open with her strength alone, bending the metal up enough for her to walk out without ducking under.

Before the voices departed, they each gave her a gift to survive this horrid world; Khorne gave her increased strength and overwhelming speed, Tzeentch gave her the ability to predict the movements of enemies, Nurgle gave her the ability to heal minor and major wounds and be resistant to all toxins and hazardous chemicals, Slaanesh gave her proficiency in weapons and unimaginable grace in fight, Stromfels gave her the ability to breath underwater, Hashut gave her resistance to fire, and the Hanged King gave her the ability to induce fear and insanity in her victims.

Suffice to say, these gifts helped immensely in her job as an assassin.

Now that that was over, Mandy wiped the blood off her feet and walked off to get her pay. As she walked, the young assassin couldn't help but to think about her time here, even it has only been for a single year. The moment she came to this hellhole, Mandy soon learned how the place worked.

The planet of Scintilla was what was known as a Hive World, with the aptly named Hive Cities being where most of the population resided. The Upperhive was where the higher class and the middle class lived, while the Underhive was where she was now, sifting in the unwanted and lawless masses of weirdos and criminals that seemed to be in the hundreds of millions.

When she heard more from the other people, either vagrants or gangers, the galaxy seemed to be ruled by an oppressive and theocratic dictatorship known as the Imperium of Man, whom all worship a holy figure known as the Emperor of Mankind. The Imperium was a place that she could get behind; there was no free will, the people are just cattle to the wealthy and powerful, ruthless armies crushing the dreams of the idiots who believe in a better future. Finally, someone realized that humanity couldn't be trusted and needed something that would keep them all in line. She'd love the Emperor if she didn't hate him.

Still, it sucked that she was a street urchin/assassin.

Soon, Mandy got to the place where she was paid for each job; a bar and restaurant where there were several criminals of organized crime gathered for food and meetings on their next business dealings. It was large and expansive with bright lights shining down on the customers with the varnish covered floors, steam from the kitchen and the sounds of music from whatever the Imperium had that resembled jukeboxes. The assassin walked through the first floor, ignoring the smells of really delicious smelling food and noxious smoke, sounds of people talking and eating, and weaving through the tables around her before she came to a staircase that led to the upper floor of the restaurant.

There, with a bunch of scantily clad women and with a table filled with food, was the Boss.

The Boss was a rotund man with tanned skin and black shaved hair, a thin mustache and five o'clock shadow, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, and an Iho-stick in his hand that trailed blue smoke. He was wearing an unbuttoned white dress shirt that exposed his hairy gut under a black dress jacket, his lower body covered in black dress pants and his feet clad in shiny dress shoes.

When he saw her approach him, the Boss raised an eyebrow, leaning in as he grabbed a cooked leg from some unknown bird and took a bite out of it, "Mandy, I assume the Dreadwings have been dealt with?"

"Dead to the last member."

"Alright. Here ya go, Mandy." The Boss dropped a bag of Thrones into her hands, "Get yourself something nice."

"Sure." Was all Mandy replied with, looking despondent with a sigh as she turned away. A sympathetic expression then came to the Boss' face along with some of the women; they all knew what it was like have nothing.

"Hey." The Boss called out, causing the girl to turn to him, "Keep your head up, kid."

Mandy sighed again and turned away, muttering, "I'll try."

The Boss walked her leave and clicked his tongue in pity, causing some of his broads to coo, thinking that he cared.

The street urchin left the restaurant after that, coming to the corner of the street before she curled up and almost cried. Not out of remorse or out of guilt, but out of self-hatred. She chose this life because those stupid voices in her head told her to do that ritual, and here she ended up being just a freaking nobody. The girl just wanted to get out of here; was that so fucking much to ask for?!

Sighing, Mandy wiped her eyes to that she wouldn't cry, tears were weakness. She opened her bag to count how many Thrones she had now so that maybe she could pay for a ferryman and get out of the Underhive. However, one could imagine Mandy's surprise when she discovered that she was short just one Throne from paying. Desperation soon took hold of her; she was so close to getting out of the Underhive! Just one more Throne and she could get out of here!

Suddenly, her luck when she saw a drunken man with a bag of Thrones in his hand. A knife then flew through the air, embedding it in the vagrant's forehead who collapsed just a moment later to the shock of no one before Mandy grabbed the bag of Thrones and ran off to the rickety elevators that led to the Middle hive.

The street urchin quickly ran for almost 9 miles, not experiencing fatigue due to the lack of fatigue toxins in her system, scaling buildings and dashing across roof-tops b before she came to a warehouse sized platform that housed hundreds of people at once. Mandy quickly leapt down the building and landed to the ground floor before dashing to the closing elevator doors, leaping into the platform at the last second just as the doors shut.

Mandy sighed in relief, before a chuckle escaped her. Finally! She could get to the middle hive and slowly start her climb to take over the planet and then the Calixis Sector, before she then conquers the Imperium! The girl allowed herself to lay back against the wall, allowing herself to sleep for a while as it seemed that it was a long way away from the middle hive.

When she awoke, the elevator slowly stopped and opened to reveal the middle hive. Mandy quickly got out of the elevator and beheld the middle hive in its splendor and glory. There were millions walking the streets, young and old, where the middle hivers live in rickety tenements built inside the shells of great mansions and basilicas, and trudge to work each day through avenues formed by fallen statues.

It seemed to be assloads better than the Underhive, but the masses there seemed to be happier than the lawless masses below. Scarcely, she could see that there were some individuals patrolling the streets in dark green greatcoats, armed with what she assumed were laser rifles, and had stern expressions that obviously meant they would kill any criminals they see.

Mandy breathed in relief and walked through the crowds, before sneaking past one of the Enforcers as she assumed they were called, before climbing to the roof of one of the tenements that overlooked the planet, where the clouds covered the skies and blocked the sun as it started to rain. She sat down, looking over the middle hive as she thought about what to do next.

Suddenly, there was a sound of a vehicle landing.

The blond street urchin turned to see there was an expensive looking vehicle landing on the roof of the tenement, the doors then opened to reveal a woman of wealth and taste, she was dressed in a dark blue dress with golden accents and trims, a white furred collar with golden jewelry draped around the neck and chest, her white hair short yet framing her beautiful face, stilettos with black coloration covered her feet, and her arms were covered in black sleeves and her hands having a number of golden rings.

The woman pulled out an umbrella and approached Mandy, having a look of absolute concern on her face while the girl had a shocked expression.

"What in the Emperor's name are you doing here by your lonesome?" The noblewoman asked, knelling down to Mandy's level.

Mandy, seeing an opportunity, gave a sad expression and looked down, "I am alone. I have nothing."

The noblewoman had a sympathetic look that was soon replaced with a conflicted one before then replaced with a soft one as she extended a hand to a surprised Mandy, "Come with me. I can give you a better life."

Faking a tearful expression, Mandy took her hand and stood up. The noblewoman gave a compassionate smile as she let Mandy into her vehicle, closing her door behind her. It was colored red with golden trims, seats that resembled cars from the 70's covered in red leather with golden trims. The girl sat down as she relaxed on the seat, letting a smile grace her face.

The Gods gave her a lucky break, now she just had to slowly build up her power and slowly begin her takeover on the planet.

"I am Silvanius Rynis, by the way." The noblewoman revealed, still having a compassionate look on her face, "What is your name?"

Mandy paused for a moment before giving her answer, "Miranda. My name's Miranda."

3 months later...

The Upperhive

Mandy tried to stay still as her dressing servitor combed her hair using the finest brushes that money could buy, seated in front of the mirror that reflected her and the servitor that was grooming her. She was currently wearing a dark blue sleeved dress with gold trims, having blue heels, and a single golden ring on her finger. A single stroke later and the servitor backed away, letting her stand up and look herself over.

The girl nearly suffered whiplash from the transition from being a street urchin to being the adopted daughter of Silvanius Rynis. Thankfully, to prevent investigation from the Inquisition, Silvanius had documents forged for her, revealing that she had been raised in secret.

Suffice to say, Mandy has definitely gotten used to the lavish lifestyle of the Highborn, though she made sure not to overindulge in order to keep up her facade. The feasts with her new adopted family, the fantastic room she was given, the servants that wait on her hand and foot; she can definitely get used to the wealth and privilege.

Tonight, however her adopted mother was hosting a party for her guests. Meaning she was away while Mandy could be alone, which gave her the opportunity to begin her study into the dark arts.

Mandy exited the dressing room while her servitor skittered off to whatever hole it crawled out from, meeting her adopted mother and her husband, along with her adopted brother.

"Hello, Miranda."

Hecor Rynis was an older man with black greying hair slicked back with an impressive handlebar mustache, steel blue eyes, and a scar running down his eye. He wore a uniform that resembled a Commissar's, especially with a greatcoat with epaulets and red-lined collar and cuffs, dark pants with calf high boots. Despite his appearance, he was very kind to Mandy and wanted to ensure that she was comfortable in their stay.

Senan Rynis was about fourteen years old with silver hair like his mother, blue eyes, and wearing a white dress shirt under a black vest with golden trimmings, black dress pants, and polished dress shoes. Like his parents, he was very kind to her like she was his own sister.

Mandy managed to pretend to be a different person then who she really was, acting like she was the perfect daughter for the Highborn Rynis family. It made her sick, but she just had to wait for 10 years and then she could get to her plans to become the Queen of Daemons.

"Mother, father, brother." Mandy said in a polite tone, a mask she learned how to build since her inception into the Rynis family, "When will you be back from the congregation?"

"We will be back by midnight, Miranda. Senan, be sure to look after your little sister while we're gone." Silvanius sweetly told her son while she and her husband slowly walked out of the room before the mother turned back to her children and waved, "Goodbye!"

The two children waved back, just when the doors closed. Despite having every reason to do so, Mandy kept the mask up while her brother sighed and put a hand to his forehead, before he asked her, "Don't you hate having to keep up appearances, sister?"

"Kinda." Mandy admitted, mentally scoffing at the irony of his comment, but kept her mask up, "I'm gonna go to back to my room. See you, big brother."

Senan waved off as he retreated to his room. The second she entered her room after ascending the stairs, the mask slipped off allowing her to return her face to a frown. She turned to her large bed covered a fur blanket, before kneeling down and grabbing the sheets before flipping them open to reveal a large grimoire bound in brown leather that had the Star of Chaos printed in red on the front.

After pulling it out, Mandy quickly set the tome down on her desk before pausing and running to the door, locking it so that she wouldn't get caught by her adopted brother coming into her room. Though there was the thought that she could kill him and frame one of their servitors.

...Nah, he wasn't worth it.

And with that, Mandy opened the grimoire, seeing the page composed of skin and the Dark Tongue texts written in blood.

"Let us begin." Mandy said to no one in particular as she started reading the pages of the dark tome.

10 years later...

Mandy hummed as she finished signing another document and then handing it to her servitor, who scurried off to send it up the chain. The blond Noble sighed and laid back on her red velvet chair that shaped itself to make her as comfortable as possible before putting her feet up on her desk where a massive book sat with all kinds of documents and parchments for all kinds of orders needed through the Imperium, as well as her Servo Skull transcribing something for her.

It was several years later when Mandy had quite happily settled into her life as an Imperial Noble, gaining quite a lot of influence in the Hives due to her charisma and confidence. Behind closed doors and without her adopted family in sight though, Mandy still craved more power from both the Imperium and the Gods of Chaos, but she had to still play the long game.

Despite that, she managed to settle with a rather comfortable and cushy position in the Administratum before she continued with her plans. All she really had to do was just sign some papers, have her servitors deliver the documents to the Logisticians, and then rinse and repeat until she had no more documents to sign. Which wasn't many due to the fact that she only had to sign documents when the others were busy, which gave her enough time to plan her next move.

If she could take the position of planetary governor, she'd both be in control of Scintilla and Sector Governor of the Calixis Sector. Unfortunately for her, Marius Hax had no intention of retiring especially now that the Imperium was in a dire situation with the increased forces of Chaos coming from every corner of the galaxy, along with the glaring fact that he rarely makes any public or personal appearances so assassinating him would be exceedingly difficult.

Still, she could play the long game until she could create an advisable strategy to become Planetary and Sector Governor. In the meantime, however, since she's done for the day, Mandy stood up and headed back to her quarters, the opulent doors opening before she was near them.

As she grew up, Mandy had slowly learned tales and spells from the book, learning to tug on the strings of fate's web, influence events to her favor. It wasn't perfect as she had to count for 'ripples' in the web, things that would be caused by her vibrating fate's web, but that just meant she had to get better. Other abilities included manipulating other's thoughts, phasing through walls, shaping other's flesh or her own flesh, and producing red Warp flames. For obvious reasons, she never uses them in public.

Regardless, her power would soon come soon, just needed to wait.

But now was the time for her to relax and indulge in the pleasures of the Highborn. If Mandy ever said she was above the other Highborn when it came to self-indulgence, she would be the biggest liar of them all. Despite her attempts to remove such temptations from her body, the allure proved too great for her to resist, and when she did indulge, it was almost the greatest day in her life.

That day... she genuinely smiled.

Mandy snapped her thoughts away when she walked into her quarters. Almost immediately, she began undoing her Imperial blue dress wreathed in aristocratic finery, then removing her jewelry, then her footwear, then her undergarments, leaving her stark naked in front of a series of mirrors that descended from the ceiling via Servitors at the snap of her fingers.

Mandy was now a slim and well-endowed young woman with waist length blonde hair and red eyes, nary a blemish on her body. Her face heart shaped with her blond hair reflecting the light like a shrine of gold. She stretched and did poses in front of a series of mirror, nude as she examined herself. Allowing a proud smile to curl, Mandy snapped her fingers again, causing the mirrors to retreat and for a Servo Skull to lower with a fur bathrobe in its claws, that she clothed herself with.

After that, the young woman exited her quarters and headed off to the bathhouses. Servitors came her way, opening the doors to reveal a massive opulent bathhouse with marble floors and walls, steam rising from the baths coming from various vents, the sounds of laughter and lovemaking, splashing of water, and the sounds of soothing music.

As she walked inside, she stopped as a servitor carrying a tray with crystal glasses before a serf came with a bottle of amasec and began pouring it for her. However, when she picked it up, a small bit of it splashed onto her hand.

"I-I am sorry, Ma'am." Her servant sycophantically bowed his head when he poured another glass for her.

Mandy rolled her eyes in annoyance; she hated it when her servants kept treating her like glass or some perfect porcelain doll. She merely snatched the filled crystal glass and supped the amasec of a rare vintage. After she downed the first one, the blond noble grabbed the other crystal glass, supping it as she walked away from the two and entered one of the baths.

Inside, she saw that one of her cohorts was sitting in the bath along with her sisters.

Her name was Rane Usfenun and her sisters, Aria and Daeia. Rane was a young woman with short red hair with a heart shaped face, her unclothed body hidden in the water, but she immediately smirked when she saw her lover come. Aria had Imperial blue short hair, while Daeia had Imperial purple hair. Other than the hair, the three were nearly identical.

"Miranda, dearest." Rane said in a sultry tone beckoning her to come, "You almost made us wait."

"Oh, please." Mandy smirked, as she slowly undid her robe and letting it drop to the floor, revealing her body to her lovers as she entered the baths. Rane smirked and came closer, pressing her lips against Mandy's as they wrapped their arms around each other while the water ripple with the sisters approaching the two of them with sultry auras.

After several minutes though, a serf accidentally interrupted them when he came in, searching for Silvanius. The moment he realized who he interrupted; Mandy glared fiercely at the serf who flinched at her red eyes boring into him.

"M-Ma'am, I-" The serf tried to explain, but...

"OUT!" Mandy yelled at her servant; her face twisted with anger at being interrupted yet again, "GET THE FUCK OUT!"

The serf quickly vacated the bath and shut the door behind him, just as she threw an ornamental vase at the spot where he just was. A frenzied and sexually frustrated Mandy then proceeded to take charge for the next hour, leaving Rane, both of her sisters, and all three of her lovers incredibly exhausted and walking funny for a week.

Rane and her sisters panted, exhausted to the point where they fell asleep in the bath water while Mandy arose from the baths, looking at her lovers with a smile before exited the baths and donning her furred bathrobe. She exited the room and intended for more indulgence.

"Miranda." A voice came to her, causing her to turn to its source.

It was Silvanius, her body draped in an Imperial blue bathrobe that was less extravagant than her adopted daughter's. The silver haired woman hadn't aged a day due to Rejuvenant Treatments, still looking like she's still in her twenties when she was really 73. The only difference now was that the woman's hair had grown to where she put it in a tight chignon secured by two golden pins.

"Mother?" Mandy replied, as her adopted mother came by.

"Come with me, Miranda." Silvanius gestured her daughter to follow her to the baths, who gave a paused look but relented and followed her mother to the baths again. The two women entered a more personal sized chamber, more reserved with several male and female servants awaiting them. Silvanius shed her robe as a servant took it as did Mandy, the mother and daughter walking to one of the baths that seemed to be decorated in marble and gold.

"You seem comfortable in your position at the Administratum, Miranda." Silvanius said she lowered herself into the baths as did her daughter.

"It's a cushy position, I admit." Mandy said as crossed one leg over the other, "But the paperwork can get to me. Still, it could have been a more tedious endeavour than others."

"Indeed. But there is something that I have been meaning to tell you." The matriarch of the Rynis family replied, having a smile on her face, "It's been over ten years since I found you on that roof... And you just made my life so much better. Hecor and I, while we had Senan, weren't happy, even thinking that our marriage was a mistake. But then, I found you and you happened to fix our marriage."

Mandy blinked, surprised but Silvanius placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "I can only say... Thank you, Miranda. Thank you for being my daughter."

The blond young woman blinked and struggled to form words before she stuttered out, "T-Thank you... mother..." Silvanius smiled, thinking that her daughter was touched by her words.

Inwardly, however, Mandy was horrified. She actually felt touched by her adopted mother's words, and no matter how hard she tried to bury it in her ambitions and desire for power, it kept breaking through. Silvanius then proceeded to make her inner turmoil worse when she hugged her daughter, who only went wide eyed at the sudden gesture of affection.

In her mind, Mandy was screaming out and wanted to stab Silvanius with one of those golden needles that secured her hair... only to go silent with shock when she found herself hugging her adopted mother back and feeling tears pricking from the corners of her eyes. Silvanius smiled and brought her daughter closer, making her serfs smile as the nearest ones tried to make them more comfortable.

Mandy was still silent as her mind was in turmoil.

...Maybe she should just give up, start over, live life like she always wanted, leave all her ambitions behind. ...Maybe... Just maybe... ...Maybe she could smile, and it wouldn't be a fake one.

Maybe she could actually be happy...

Five years later...

There was a small part of Mandy that just wanted to stop and just settle, one that screamed out when she chose to continue her ambitions. A hesitant decision as the thought kept nagging at her like a kanker of thought weighing on her head.

Regardless, she needed that push to secure that piece of archaic knowledge needed to finish her progress. If she can get that, then she could begin her slow trek to the ultimate power that they promised. If they don't, she kills them but settles into her life as a Highborn.

Mandy looked at her retinue; all standing before her while she was on her opulent and heavily decorated chair that resembled a throne.

Hoq Ituisr: a former Underhive ganger who she recruited from Necromunda. A strong burly man with a mass of scar tissue for a face that was hidden by an iron mask, his body covered in dirty ganger clothes and having so many weapons that it seemed like every space available was for a gun or knife. There was no hair on his head or any part of his body.

Maria Cero: a psyker that she recruited from the Feudal World, Ostifus. She was a twenty-three-year-old woman with short black hair in a pixie cut, her skin covered in purity seals and rune script, the word INFERNUS AETERNA tattooed in black on her head and the Roman numeral VII tattooed on her chin. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black leather outfit that resembled both a body suit and the robes of a priest, thigh high boots, and an Imperial Aquila pendent around her neck.

Ranoc, who had changed surprisingly little in 15 years, merely replacing his hands with twin mechanical claws.

The last one was a man so cybernetically and bionically augmented that he resembled more a sentient set of power armor. She couldn't even believe that there was a person underneath there, to where she was certain that the man couldn't even be called a man, just a brain and barely functioning clumps of organs hooked into a series of life-support systems that keep them viable. Mandy believed that he was called XIV.

"Your assignment is simple." Mandy stated, producing an image of a tome bound in human skin with several symbols written in ebony, "There is this tome of chaotic lore that I need. But for obvious reasons, I can't get it myself. So, you four have to retrieve it. And if you do, you will be rewarded handsomely." She then revealed a parchment that held an address and a name.

"The owner of the tome and his address is on here. Kill him if you have to. Just get me that tome."

The four nodded, XIV taking the parchment as they exited her quarters. Mandy huffed before she relaxed and laid down on a red couch with gold trimmings, thinking about the moments she had here.

The Underhive

Mandy's retinue descended the rickety elevators of the hive, waiting patiently for them to arrive in the Underhive. Several hundred other people of all ages struggling even as the doors opened to reveal the Underhive in all its disgusting glory.

"Alright, you heard the lady." Roq said as he twirled a Hecuter 10 from his sleeve, "Get to the address, find the man and get the book. Anything else is consisted unimportant."

The three others nodded, not caring if this mission goes according to plan or if it goes fubar.

After exiting the elevator and walking through the cobbled together ruins of the Underhive, they came through a dark alleyway, passing vendors and sellers of all kinds of exotic meats and items, stuff from all kinds of exotic sources, several parts illuminated by the glimmering lights of many diverse colors. No one person was like anything Roq hadn't seen in the underhives of Necromunda, just better in every way.

"Why do you think Miranda wished for this book?" Maria asked Roq, who shrugged, causing her to sigh, "It just that... every mission she's sent us on feels like she's been gathering stuff for... something. Like that mission to Ambrias, where she had us retrieve that scepter. We barely managed to get it past the Inquisitor that had been on the ship to investigate."

"True." Ranoc said as he sharpened his claws, "Something's wrong with her. Like she's been replaced by someone else."

XIV didn't talk, merely marching along as others moved out of the way as he resembled an Astartes via his power armor.

Eventually, the retinue reached the address, entering the cobbled building before closing the door behind them. Thankfully, it seemed like it was quiet place for them to just get in and get out without any problems.

XIV looked at the paper and motioned for them to follow him, which they did as he ascended the stairs, despite that he barely fit in the place due to his size. The cyborg then pointed at a door on the right, giving Roq the paper as he wisely decided to stay behind as so the owner wouldn't think that the Inquisition was onto them.

The three then gathered around the door and Maria knocks on the door. It opened just a minute later with the sole occupant being a man so decrepit that even Roq, who was numb to such horrors from Necromunda, and Maria, who is constantly tormented by whispers from the Warp, flinched.

He was a pathetic old thing, having been atrophied to much by time and disease that he resembled a skeleton with skin stretched over it than a person. Wisps of chalk white hair hung from a hairless head, a pointed nose that seemed disproportionate to his face, milky white eyes, arms that seemed like they were pushed to their breaking point in trying to lift the tome of eldritch power to them.

"Take it." The thing croaked in a voice dryer than a desert, "Free of charge." He then closed the door without another word, leaving three members of Mandy's retinue stunned.

"Well... That was easy." Ranoc said with a raised eyebrow, confused as to why such a powerful tome would be so easily abandoned by its owner.

"Then let's get out of here while its easy." Roq wisely said as the three immediately decided to run back down the stairs while they had the tome, XIV quickly following them down the stairs.

When they got to the bottom floor of the building, Roq put a hand up for them all to stop, looking out the window for any signs of cultists coming for the book. When it seemed like they were in the clear, the bounty hunter turned back to them, "Alright, seems like they were the clear for the moment. Try to act normal so we don't attract attention."

"Oh, yeah, because XIV is soooo inconspicuous." Maria drawled sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.

XIV's response was simple deadpan silence.

"Just follow my lead!" Roq hissed at her, opening the door as he stuffed the tome in his jacket, joining the crowds along with Ranoc, Maria, and XIV. The three thankfully blended in with the crowd quickly and managed to get to the elevators.

But of course, things couldn't be that easy. As they were walking by a dark alley to the elevators, a cultist who happened to be posing as a vagrant caught sight of the book. Seeing the book, the cultist quickly pulled out a small black device with a red button that he pressed, sending a silent alarm to the other cultists in the area that the book was found, quickly getting their attention as the retinue began to reach the edges of the Underhive.

"BOOK!" The three nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard the shout, turning to see a crowd of cultists running towards them, all screaming incoherently at earsplitting volumes and killing whatever was in front of them.

"Of course..." Roq muttered as he whipped out two Hecuter 10s and fired into the crowd, "ARM UP, BOYS!"

Ranoc and XIV pulled out a Ripper Pistol and a Bolter respectively, firing on the horde of cultists that were coming their way. Maria then conjured orbs of swirling flames in her hands that she then unleashed on the hordes, incinerated hundreds in an instant before conjuring more and using it in combination with her martial arts, reducing several more cultists to dust with the psychic heat of her powers.

Several hundred cultists then emerged from every corner of the Underhive, young and old, screaming in the gibberish of tumorous horror things from beyond the known, crying out the song of the Warp as they died on mass from the flames of the young psyker, who was now halting the advance of the hordes. However, after a minute, Maria began to falter, dropping to her knees.

"GET THE BOOK! GET THE BOOK! GET THE BOOK! GET THE BOOK!" The cultists roared as they sprinted towards them in a rabid frenzy, quite literaly frothing at the mouth to get the book from the retinue that was attempting to flee while they could. But fate had different ideas.

"I can't... LET YOU!" Maria choked on blood before she drew all the strength from the Warp that she could, engorging herself on an unrestraint megawatt's worth of power.

"Uh, oh." Ranoc swore as he and Roq wisely ran off to a safe distance before she continued her onslaught.

Maria screamed as she unleashed a veritable firestorm of purple, orange, red, and blue that consumed the crowd around her before it began spreading to the rest of the area. A moment of agony passed that destroyed the cultists were reduced to ashes and while Roq and Ranoc were trying to flee from the firestorm. As it receded and smothered away, Maria panted like she was high on intoxicants, not noticing that in her high she had accidentally reduced XIV to slag with his brain and organs now cooked to ashes.

The psyker slowly seemed to ripple like liquid only for her clothes to slowly consume her skin, fusing to her epidermis and spreading until all except her head and neck were covered. As she felt her soul roiling with the infernal powers, Maria began to think back to her childhood.

Maria was born on a Feudal World to parents that beat the creed of the Emperor into her like it was the only words that mattered to them, locking her in closets, branding her with the Imperial Aquila, continuously forcing her to attend prayers in public, and even forcing her to memorize every single part of the Lectitio Divinitatus. And then she remembered when her mother brought her to behind the shrine and showed her the ways of the flesh, being a plaything for her and the repressed priests.

Her powers then manifested, incinerating her mother and the priests, before she was found by the crowds and beaten to near death for her nature as a psyker, an abomination of the human race. Tortured, publicly humiliated, whipped, stoned, before she was taken by the Black Ships for delivery to Terra. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the Adeptus Astra Telepathica said that she was not sufficient for the Chosen, so she was given to away to the Inquisition.

How she was brought under Mandy's pay... she couldn't remember.

what was her name again?

...maybe insanity won't be so bad...

That was Maria's last thought before the blackness overtook her face before her entire body compressed and expanded, dissolving and tearing apart as she bleeds torrents of black ink, the rest of her body warping into a massive pile of tentacles before dozens of mouths lined in orange drool covered fangs formed. The newly minted Chaos spawn squealed as it launched itself at the crowd of panicking cultists and criminals, throwing all they had at it.

Roq and Ranoc, meanwhile, had already arrived at the elevator as it closed and ascended to the middlehive, both watching as the growing Chaos Spawn that used to be Maria ate approximately 49 people just as it was struck with a myriad of lasfire, the Underhive disappearing from view as they reached higher and higher.

One hour later...

Mandy waited by the Upperhive elevators, disguised with a plain blackened cloak with the hood concealing her head in shadow, leaving only her hands unconcealed and exposed to the cleaned air of the Upperhives. Her presence was concealed from the enforcers by manipulation of the perceptions via pheromones of her creation and design. Only her retinue had immunity, letting them see her in the dark to avoid the enforcers asking questions.

She awaited and only two of the four came from the elevator that just arrived, seeing her hiding in the darkened corridors and quickly entering as an enforcer came down the stairs and turned his eyes to where they were. To them, he stared off in the distance. To him, the shadowed corridor was empty except for a fellow enforcer approaching from the other entrance.

Moving his eyes left and right, the enforcer merely gave a grunt before walking off, continuing his patrol.

With the enforcer dealt with, Mandy turned to her retinue, "Do you have the tome?"

Roq nodded before he pulled the book out and bequeathed it to her, letting her hand glide across the leather-bound cover composed of a cultist's skin. She opened it to reveal the text, seeing the walls of dark tongue that greeted her sight and taking in the image of a face with six pupiless eyes and a vaginal like mouth lined with pincher-like fangs.

"Hm. You two did good." Mandy replied, looking at the two with her red eyes burning into them, "But I have to ask: what was all that commotion from the Underhive I heard about?"

"Maria overexerted herself and ended up both incinerating XIV and turning into a Chaos Spawn." Roq reported, "A horde of cultists attempted to get the book before we managed to escape from Maria's rampage."

"Sorry, boss. Things got really out of control." Ranoc apologized to her.

Mandy remained calm and collected surprisingly, merely uttering, "I see..."

Suddenly, Roq and Ranoc were impaled through the head by thin fleshy tendrils from Mandy's hand before either of the two had a chance to react. The tendrils then retracted and receded back into Mandy's hand, letting the bodies fall like sacks of meat. Then, Mandy raised her hand and the bodies of her two retinue members were then lifted into the air like puppets on invisible strings before they were then thrown off the edges of the Upperhive to their bloody demises on the small chance that they survived being stabbed in the head.

Mandy walked over to the edge, watching as the bodies fell out of view. Now that they caused commotion in the Underhive, it's likely that this will attract the attention of the Inquisition which could expose her machinations. Which meant that she might have to move up her plans on a shorter time then she needed. Thankfully, it could take a while for any inquisitor to get to Scintilla. Unfortunately, heresy on Scintilla, the planet where the Sector Governor lives, will likely be given top priority due to the implications.

As such, she likely had to prepare right this second.

1 year later...

Mandy opened another tome, sifting through the contents of the arcane text and absorbing them, doing hand signs with her right hand before she clenched her hand into a fist and then opening it, with flakes of flesh rising from her palm like wisps of smoke and coiling around before forming a ball of thin tendrils, eyes, and mouths that randomly bulged and contracted.

Satisfied, Mandy lowered her hand, causing the thing to dissolve back into her palm. She then took a quill pen, before dabbing it in the neck of Senan's dead body, and then writing something on a parchment. Senan had grown into quite the catch; silver hair having grown to a waist long chignon, wearing an Imperial Navy uniform as he had volunteered to do so, something that mystified her.

Again, he had become quite handsome, enough that she couldn't resist and made love to him before she killed him via collapsing his heart. She did need a source of blood for her plans after all.

Mandy sighed again and wiped the sleeves off the red bathrobe she was clad in, she needed something to curb her insatiable desire to bed beautiful men and women but knew she would never be rid of it and quite frankly didn't want to be rid of it.

Closing the book, the blond sorceress took the last parchment and sat up, walking up the stairs of the Upperhive's library before going to an almost mosaic-like window with a small stool sitting in front of it. Several sheets of parchment with Dark Tongue text written in blood, arranged to where the text resembled the eight-pointed star.

Just as she placed the last parchment on the table, the young woman felt a presence. She turned to the right to see that a denizen of the Warp had come; resembling a vaguely humanoid thing composed of red mist with twin flaming eyes of orange.

"What is it?" Mandy spoke in a tone that feinted interest.

The daemon spoke in a voice that seemed like a million voices fused to one, "The Inquisition."

Mandy's head immediately snapped towards the daemon, looking like her worse fears had manifested, "The Inquisition?"

"The Ordo Hereticus to be exact." The daemon specified before explaining, "They had come for an investigation at Sector Governor Marius Hax's request. Then a Psyker on their retinue noticed the waves through the Warp. You only had ten minutes before they get here."

The sorceress looked like she had swallowed a bitter drink before she shook it off, this ritual should only take a few moments.

Mandy took a ceremonial knife from somewhere in her red bathrobe and then cut her wrist with it. Her blood spilled onto the parchments, causing the symbols to slowly eat the red liquid as the text grew vibrate from the hellish power of the Warp. The cut quickly sealed, as the remains of the split blood began to boil before rising into the air and coiling into an orb.

The orb then pulsed, sending Mandy back a bit and shattering the window, revealing the night sky of Scintilla and all of the Upperhive in all its glory. The blood orb then slowly expanded and deepened, revealing a massive gateway to the Warp.

Mandy looked back at the place she called home for 15 years with something of a rueful expression before she entered the portal, which closed just a moment after the sorceress entered. But not before she left something to throw the Inquisitors off.

A few minutes later, a pair of armsmen from an inquisitorial retinue burst into her room. The two looked around the library, finding that it was empty but with several books opened and placed on the desk. The armsmen then saw the body of Senan Rynis, before one of them went up to see the naked and dead body of Miranda Rynis.

This act would be the one that absolves the Rynis family in the Inquisition's eyes, and which would lead them to another family that had fallen to Slaanesh, leading to their obliteration.

Little did the Inquisition know, that they missed the chance to stop the rise of Chaos' greatest champion.

800 years later...

Screaming Vortex

Kurse

Kurse. It deserved its name.

A baleful, guttering ember of a world, Kurse lurks like a canker within the Screaming Vortex as a common port-of-call to many warbands and Chaos pirates. Untold ages ago, Kurse was once a thriving Civilised World, rich in machines and lore from the Dark Age of Technology. Ultimately, the world was embroiled in a firestorm of savage war, where unspeakable weapons were unleashed in search of a final victory. Thus, the world as it was had been cast down, its great cities and centres of learning smashed to rubble, its advanced civilisation reduced to brutality.

Ongoing toxic chemical reactions have created seas of simmering fire, and the remaining continents are marred by massive irradiated pits, many of which extend down to expose the planet's molten core. The majority of Kurse's environment is completely uninhabitable, with only a few regions spared the ravages of cataclysm. The planetary population is mostly composed of mutants and cannibals, surviving on the remnants of their former glory, carefully hidden away before the planet's ugly fate or unearthed from the rubble afterwards.

A ring of asteroids in near orbit have been fitted to sustain life by the dark magi of Forge Castir, and a number of these habitats serve as crude gladiatorial pits where mutants and other survivors from Kurse are pitted against one another for bloody sport. Warp hounds, Ogryn brutes, and other such creatures are common amongst these makeshift arenas to add particular spice to the contests or to serve as slaves or bodyguards.

Kurse's true value to the denizens of the Screaming Vortex is as a breeding ground for warriors and mutants to fill the holds of Chaos pirate vessels or to serve in the armies of Aspiring Champions of Chaos. Occasionally, some warbands make their way to Kurse in order to plunder lost archeotech or ancient data-vaults from the ruins on the planet's surface.

A cloaked figure approached one of those data-vaults.

The figure was hideous, hunchbacked with numerous cybernetics and augmentations, resembling more of a monster than a person, all covered in a crimson cloak composed of various animal hides that hid six spider-like mechanical legs. The hands were barely the prehensile limbs of a baseline human's, more mechanical claws with darkened skin stretched over the mechanisms, with tubes filled with godknowswhat flowing in and out of its flesh to keep it viable.

She approached a set of doors on a mountain of slag shaped in jagged and dripping formations, contrasting the white coloration of the doors with its grey metallic appearance. A wave of her hand was all she needed to open them, entering a dark corridor whose overhead lights activated at her presence, revealing white walls and grey stairs.

The figure descended the stairs until she saw a small white cube with Cherenkov blue lines that she took into her hands before ascending the stairs to the surface again. It contained the next part of her plan, a way to cheat death.

As she came to the doors, the figure saw that her followers had arrived; millions of men and women, all adorned in black cloaks that hid their faces. She would have smirked if she could.

They all came to an open space where the figure set the cube down and pressed a button. The cube then disassembled, revealing an array of arcane machines and ritual scrolls and parchments that were arranged around her in a circle. A moment later, the array lit up with red infernal power, the ritual text burning brightly as the air seemed to thicken with warp residue.

"Behold!" An electric female voice rang as the cloaked figure raised their arms, revealing darkened and wrinkled flesh polymerized with cybernetics, "Behold as I am woven into the tapestry of reality! Behold as I become undying and indestructible! Behold as the blood of gods and tyrants drown this world in its splendor! Behold as my first steps towards my destiny begins!"

The circle of ritual symbols, machinery, and arcane device whirled to live as the desires of its master fulfilled their purpose. The speaker began to laugh, feeling the power swelling inside her, blazing as it roared into the cosmos.

"HERE IS MY REWARD! HERE IS LIFE EVERLASTING!"

The arcs of lightning then speared towards her followers, enveloping them in an aura of infernal power that slowly began draining them of their essence. They cried and screamed out in horror before they aged and crumbled away, not even ash being left of them, as their souls burned away like flesh on pyres. The storm of rended souls swirled and coiled around her, acting as a burning soul that breathed life into her form.

Her soul and body soon joined as her existence was woven onto the universe's will.

Suddenly, the augments that composed nearly her entire form began twisted as her flesh did, before they began bloodily tearing themselves out of her body, shredding her cloak in the process. First was the artificial joints that were then replaced by sinew and bone as muscle and skin grew in. Next was the mechanical organs that replaced her originals so many years ago, quite literally tearing out of her gut and bloodily clanking onto the ground before they were replaced with new organs, rejuvenated by the ritual. Next were the micro cogitators that had replaced parts of her brain in leu of her degrading neurons, her skull ripping open as her flesh forcefully expelled them from her cranium that swiftly regained the lost parts.

Her aged and blackened skin soon became healthy as useless parts shed off her flesh and regrew, the respirator and artificial lungs soon ripped themselves out of her skull and chest cavity, along with the pump that replaced her heart and the artificial stomach, then ripped away the mechadendrites and artificial spine from her back before vertebrae quickly emerged as nerves and sinew grew in, the twin mechanical eyes then forcefully were ripped from her sockets before ocular jelly flowed in.

The Queen was left a mutilated pile of broken bones, flesh, and organs that were slowly forcing themselves to shape back into a humanoid form.

As her brain regrew, her skull closed and flesh grew over, blond follicles began sprouting from her scalp forming into a head of blond hair. Her sockets soon gained eyes with red irises, her ribs regrew over her heart and lungs, muscle and skin grew back, her splintered bones and limbs forcing themselves into their original states, organs pulling and coiling against each other, her blood pumping through her veins as the chemicals and metallic replacements slowly bled out of her, and age reversing.

The mind shattering agony soon faded as the Queen felt her jaw reconnect to her skull, her face regrew over her skinless head, and her regenerated lungs slowly intaking oxygen. As her sight returned, Mandy blinked to see that the area was surrounded by her bloodied augments, before bringing up a hand and breathing in awe when it was flesh and blood rather than steel and mechanics.

She then looked around and saw that there was a piece of earth singed to glass that had cooled rather quickly, scrambling to it as she gazed deeply into the reflection that gazed back.

It was Mandy, back in her prime, not even looking a day over 20, her eyes as vibrant as ever.

"YES!" The Queen of the Damned yelled as she raised her fists into the air, grinning madly as crimson lightning arced and coiled around her. The high was intoxicating, as was the sensations that she had been robbed off these past 400 years coming back like Slaanesh had bless her before. Such was the rush that she found herself ripping the pieces of flesh that were on her former bionics off and consuming her, the metallic taste like a blast of sensation on her tongue.

When Mandy had finally calmed down, she collapsed onto the melted steel ground, feeling the cooled remains of what was once an opulent city of the Dark Age of Technology.

"Finally. I was so sick of being a mechanical monster." Mandy growled as she glared at the bloodied augments, hoping that they'd burst into flames.

After her escape from Scintilla, Mandy soon realized that it would take her millennia until she could complete her quest for dominance. In light of that, Mandy sought to conquer the one foe that would she had once enslaved: Death.

As such, she resorted to every measure imaginable to prolong her life; and when Rejuvenat treatments and her abilities to shape and manipulate flesh began to fail her, she resorted to cybernetics. Tons and tons of cybernetics to where she could be mistaken for a Tech-Priest.

Despite the fact that they extended her life drastically, Mandy was hellish agony for several centuries and deprived of most of her senses. As time wore on, she resorted to chemicals and drugs to upkeep the rotting parts of her body, artificial organs to replace her failing organs, a heart pump and artificial spine to replace those parts when they were not salvageable, an artificial green liquid that oxygenated her body more than regular blood, micro cogitators to replace parts of her brain from age degeneration, those spider legs when her legs lost functionality, and more esoteric augments that she got from the Black Market.

Regardless of the bionics, the self-proclaimed Queen of the Damned knew that even this was temporary and sought a method for true immortality.

Thankfully, the followers she gained after her centuries of hiding in the shadows gained knowledge of the Perpetuals, immortal beings that had walked the galaxy for countless centuries and how to convert people into them. Apparently, there was a group of aliens known as the Cabal, who possessed ancient technologies that would allow for immortality. There were also special rituals that allowed for the eternal life and youth of the caster.

As such, her followers worked to death to bring her these technologies and arcane powers before they managed to cobble a ritual that combined both at the cost of all their lives, but a phrase that always stuck with Mandy was 'You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.' Same logic applies to real life.

Regardless, Mandy stood up and raised a hand, watching crimson lightning and tendrils of her own flesh coiling around her palm like a shape of wires. She grinned, now, she can begin her true plan.

Holy Terra

The Imperial Palace

345.M36

The sounds of passion echoed through the chamber wall of the Arch-Cardinal, then there was the sound of a man and woman collapsing came soon after. The pants from the blond woman, only clad in a necklace that had an imperial aquila, curling up against the man she was with along with other Brides of the Emperor that had joined this orgiastic gathering.

He was an older man with hair that reached past the collarbone having greyed from insanity and age, his aged face having laugh lines and heavy bags under his iron-colored eyes, an Imperial aquila and Rosarius hanging from his neck, the nails on his fingers grown out and sharped like claws, and aged skin that old stories of death by deranged faith. The only clothing he wore was a pair of white slacks that covered the lower half of his body, laying against the wall of his chamber as he panted, feeling Miranda laying her head on his lap.

This was Goge Vandire. The Mad Ecclesiarch of the Reign of Blood.

"Was this moment to your liking, Ecclesiarch?" Mandy breathlessly said as she sat up and leaned against his chest.

"Indeed, it was. You know? You are a very interesting woman, Miranda." Vandire chuckled almost affectionately as he ran his hand through her golden hair.

"Your will is my will, Lord Vandire." Mandy whispered to him in a sensual tone as she slithered close to him, cooing seductively, "The Imperium is yours by holy right."

Vandire smiled thinly before he stood up, putting on a sleeveless shirt and then slowly donning his robes as Ecclesiarch. Mandy then donned a formfitting black leather dress with red sleeves that possessed the Imperial aquila printed on the chest, the waist decorated in purity seals and parchments that held texts of the Lectitio Divinitatus, her legs covered in red fabric pants and thigh-high leather boots. Though she loathed the Imperium and the texts restrained her powers, Mandy had to admit; the Imperium had an amazing sense of aesthetics.

The Brides of the Emperor also slowly began to get up and donned their power armor, seemingly just rested from their experience as Vandire beckoned them to follow him, "Come now, my congregation awaits with bated breaths."

Vandire then left his chambers with his Brides, all standing at attention like they had been trained their entire lives. On the walk to the mass gathering on Terra, the Mad Ecclesiarch felt his thoughts becoming garbled with fear and paranoia, but his fear also served to make his expression frozen in a mask of stoicism as he kept walking.

Despite being the closest thing that the High Lord had for a lover, Vandire knew something was... off about Miranda. Mandy was the strangest women to ever meet the Ecclesiarch, perhaps due to the aura she possessed. She seemed... cold, in the soul not in the body. Her piercing red eyes seemed to be the eyes of a thing that had sold their soul for the infernal things beyond.

There was a subtle taciturnity that was absorbing her as time progress, wandering off to parts unknown in the Imperial Palace with some of the maids, Brides, or some of the Frateris Templar, to perhaps meet to conspire against him, to weave her dark spells to convert him to the traitor's side, to turn the Imperium against him, to do... something.

Day and night he would slowly begin to wonder if the women he constantly found himself in bed with was a witch trying to pull on him like a puppet on strings. The Ecclesiarch turned to see the blond woman walking next to him, who smiled gently at him when she noticed, which only served to make him even more suspicious of her even if he hid it with another smile.

Thankfully, if she ever was plotting against him, then all he could do was point and his Brides would burn her at the stake. Regardless, he had to be sure.

A nudge snapped the High Lord out of his maddened thoughts, revealing to him that he was almost to the podium in front of the masses of Terra. Vandire coughed and quickly cleared his throat, "Thank you, Miranda."

"You are quite welcome my lord." She smiled lasciviously at him. Mandy either did not notice or care that the other Brides assembled at Vadire's side were glaring at her in jealousy.

With that, Vandire ascended the steps to the podium, the sheets of his speech gently placed on the pedestal, the masses of Terra that stretched across the horizon coming into view, and the rush of the power he held again now intoxicating him again. The Ecclesiarch forced himself to breath to compose himself, first thing's first.

The Vox came to the life, the holographic screens displaying the Ecclesiarch's face, and thus Vandire began his speech to the masses, "The Emperor Protects. A phrase that has been our creed since the dawning of the Imperium, our mantra that braved the storms of the Horus Heresy, the light that birthed the faith of the one true god. As the Emperor ascended to the Golden Throne, he allowed the bastards consumed with greed to reign over the Imperium with their petty scours and wanton glutting of resources. It was only when his voice came to me, that the true believers were giving their throne upon Terra's holy grounds!"

Mandy slowly began to tune out the rest of his speech, but she saw the awed face of both the Brides and the masses beyond. She didn't shake her head or scoff as that would likely make her seem like a heretic in their eyes, merely pretending to listen to him as so that they would be convinced of her loyalty.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" Vandire yelled as he finished his speech, rallying the cause of the Imperium.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!"

Came the cries of the crowds and the Brides, all roaring out like the Emperor himself was looking down upon them.

Mandy joined in the roar, much to her annoyance, but screamed with the same as the moment came. With that done, the Ecclesiarch slowly stepped down as the Brides escorted him away. The two made eye contact for a moment before they both brushed past each other, unsure that the other was planning next. Mandy almost gritted her teeth; the Ecclesiarch knew she was planning something, but what and how much did he know?

As she watched Vandire and the Brides leave, Mandy turned away to see that a maid and a Frateris Templar that had remained with her. A look around later to make sure that she was not being observed by the masses or the Brides, Mandy motioned for the two to follow her.

The two nodded and followed as she walked away from the podium.

They came to a secure area that was originally meant as an access area for the Imperial Navy but was reworked as another fortified front of the palace during the Horus Heresy. It was a dark spacious room that was only illuminated by the blaring ceiling lights that showed the production of weaponry for the armies of the Frateris Templar.

Now that they were alone, Mandy turned to the two that were before her. Two of her people that she had trained sense birth to remain loyal to her until their dying breath. Her first son and daughter; Draen and Rasa.

Draen was a tall muscular man with all the sighs of one of the Templars; always in peak physical condition and their bodies covered with intricate ritual scars and religious tattoos, signifying their undying devotion to the Master of Mankind, ironic as he was as loyal to her as any Templar. Like the other fanatical Templars, he had his torso bare, covering his lower body with white half-robes laced with gold. Each Templar was protected by a shimmering energy shield generated by a spinal implant and armed with high-cadence Lasblasters and gold-hilted swords whose blades were crafted from pure hematite.

Rasa was a quiet woman liking to keep herself; keeping herself hidden under a veil that she pulled away to reveal a woman with black hair but with her mother's red eyes. She was clad in gold trimmed robes of an ecclesiarchal serf, her hands having implants that allow for better hand eye coordination, capable of performing tasks to a perfect degree.

"Mother," The both of them said in unison as they bowed to her.

"Son, daughter." Mandy toned to her children, skipping the pleasantries, "I have bad news and worse news. The bad news is that I haven't amassed enough influence to attempt a coup-d'état and the worse news is that Vandire seems to be catching onto my efforts." She then curled her hand into a fist, "He's too much like me." The irony was not lost on her as she'd do the same thing as him if she was in his position. Which was probably why she was so attracted to him.

Both Draen and Rasa looked at each other in worry and then to their mother with the latter speaking, "Mother, can't you convince him that he is merely being paranoid? You are practically his wife. You convinced him that he is the voice of the Emperor."

"I have done nothing." Mandy said, surprising her daughter and son, "Vandire is nearly impossible to corrupt due to his insanity. I can whisper the promises of the Gods, yet his insanity is like a cloud that is both ever-shifting and impenetrable. I can only manipulate the Brides, and even then, their faith makes it difficult. One of our options is to find the Emperor's Throneroom, but that's a task that is as impossible as it is dangerous. So, there is only one option left: assassinate Vandire and assume his position."

Both of her children bawked when they heard their mother suggested, but were interrupted before they could speak, "Don't bother attempting to convince me otherwise. I need to act before he outs me as a heretic. If I am able to kill him in his sleep or if he is alone, then I will be able to assume his position with little suspicion." She then pondered for a second before she then said, "I need time though."

She then whirled around to face her son and daughter, both flinching at her piercing red eyes, "If anything goes wrong, both of you know what do to." With that, Mandy left her two children behind, ascending the narrow passageway to a deeper part of the Imperial Palace.

As she exited the narrow passage and into the corridors of the Imperial Palace, Mandy came across the leader of Brides; Alicia Dominica. She was a woman of both faith and stature, black hair that contrasted the white and gold trimmed armor that she bore with pride.

"Alicia." Mandy said with all the enthusiasm of seeing a classmate that they hated since high school, "What is your business here?"

"Miranda." Alicia's tone was a jealous one but kept herself composed and showed that she seemed concerned, "Forgive my intrusions but I must inquire of you. Have you noticed that Lord Vandire has become rather... mad?"

"Mad?" Mandy questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying not to sound sarcastic, "Most definitely. Whenever I am not with him, he is often arguing to himself, create dark decrees that I had to alter so that even the Templars do not bawk, and there are times when I feel like I am his only tether to reality. Vandire seemed to have gone mad from being the Voice of the Emperor."

Alicia seemed alarmed at her response, "Do you believe that he will be endangered?"

Suddenly, another bride of the Emperor came towards them, stopping by Alicia and seemed to be out of breath before "Lady Dominica! There is an uprising that reached the right wing of the Imperial Palace!"

However, before any of them could react, a roar of zealous fury came to them, causing them to turn to see something that shocked almost all three of them.

The rebel army, identified with their banners of red and dark green uniforms, was suddenly under siege by both the Frateris Templars and the civilian masses. The latter diving in with reckless abandon as they dug in with crude weapons or their own fists, tearing open bodies and breaking limbs, blood and body parts flying as both sides battled with such fervor that a veritable lake of blood began forming from the battle.

The Bride gaped in shock, clearly new to the Sisters, Alicia blinked in surprise while Mandy couldn't contain her laughter, before she composed herself, "For some unknown reason, Alicia, I am not concerned."

XXX

One year later...

Mandy hummed as she Everything was in place and Vandire was alone in his chamber, all she had to do was get into his chambers and kill him before then telling the Brides that he was assassinated. Once that was done, she could then assume his role and with that, she would be the master of the Imperium.

Looking down, the blond witch pawed the ceremonial dagger in her hand that bore no hilt or covering on the grip. It was composed of an incredibly rare metal that was able to bypass the conversion field, allowing her to kill Vandire even if he was wearing his Rosarius. The daemon that gifted it to her called it; the Devil's Teardrop.

Warping her flesh, she opened her arm and had the dagger hide between her radius and ulna before the flesh closed, concealing it from view.

The moment arrived soon, Mandy felt Vandire's presence through the currents of the Warp, tugging on the strings of fate to ensure that the patrols of Brides around his quarters, and concealing her presence to ensure that she was not seen by any who happened to come near her. As she neared the massive chamber doors that led to the Ecclesiarch's quarters, they opened for her, revealing a massive chamber with Vandire kneeling in the center facing away from her as he seemed to be praying to the Emperor.

Mandy blinked in surprise; this may be easier than she thought.

"Greetings, my lord." The witch said in a calming tone, trying to lower his guard before entering his chamber.

"...Can I tell you a story, Miranda?" The Mad Ecclesiarch asked, still keeping his head turned away from her.

"Yes, my lord." Mandy replied, keeping a straight face but was inwardly confused as to his reasons.

Vandire then slowly stood up and let his arms fall to his sides, revealing his aquila in his left hand, "On my home world, they had a myth where he who stood above all other... is doomed to fall. Because he reached so high, all that made him a man was burned away by his ambition. Same with Horus. Same with countless others. I never understood that myth back then... but I think I understand it now."

Mandy merely raised an eyebrow, "I see..." Just as she said that sentance, she manipulated her flesh, letting the Devil's Teardrop slid out of her palm before gripping it.

Suddenly, Vandire whirled around and whipped out a master-crafted and heavily ornamental Bolt pistol, his face one of frenzied rage. He fired before Mandy could even blink in surprise, sending a bolt round into her stomach. It detonated not even a nano second later, cleaving her in twain at the waist and separating both halves of her body. The top half flying back and slamming into the chamber walls, her liquid guts splattering against the marble floor with the dagger clattering onto the floor and the lower half uncouthly falling to the ground and releasing its blood in a growing pool of red.

In a cough of blood that stained the lower half of her face, Mandy looked up to Vandire who was still gripping the smoking bolt pistol, having an utterly dumbstruck expression, only able to choke out, "How?"

"Never betray a backstabber." Vandire snarled, still pointing the bolt pistol at her head next.

Suddenly, pink fleshy tendrils ripped from her upper half that quickly reconnected with the lower half, forcing herself to stand up as the two halves reconnected before she then undid the damage of her outfit did by the shot. Mandy snarled as she then released a torrent of red flames at the Eccleasiarch who raised his aquila that seemed to block the onslaught.

As if through a miracle, the aquila was a lit with golden light that suddenly threw Mandy back, sending her flying out of Vandire's chambers before she landed on her feet. He then swiped the Devil's Teardrop from the floor and raced out of his chambers, seeing her wiped the dust off of her before she saw Vandire lunging at her with a feral expression.

"DIE, WITCH!" The Mad Ecclesiarch roared as he swung the dagger at her, the Queen of the Damned dodging as she fired a bolt of lightning that was blocked by Vandire's Rosarius, and then slugged her across the face with his Bolt pistol. Mandy was barely affected as the cracked cheekbone healed instantly before she threw a punch, but that provide to be a bad idea as her fist exploded against the conversion field.

The Ecclesiarch scoffed before he drove the Devil's Teardrop into her heart. Mandy coughed up blood before he then kicked her back, ripping open her ribcage as she dug her feet into the floors, skidding to a halt. Both the wounds to her and her clothing was undone in a moment, causing her to cough out blood again before she wiped it away, glaring intensely at the Mad Ecclesiarch who was either too insane or too furious to be affected by a gaze that would cause daemons to reel in horror.

"You can't kill me, but I can kill you!" Mandy roared before she raised her hands, conjuring twin red portals with crackling red lightning, combining into a larger portal that seemed to cause the area to shudder. Hordes of daemons immediately came through, all in shapes unable to be described rushing towards a snarling Vandire who raised his Aquila with a feral roar.

"BURN, HERETICS!"

Suddenly, a blast of holy fire blazed from Vandire's Aquila, incinerating the daemons that she summoned as their essence was sent burning back to the Warp. The flames then reached Mandy, who's eyes widened before she was sent flying. The golden flames burned her arms and face, the pain unbearable as she screamed out in agony before slamming into the floor.

Suddenly, the Brides of the Emperor came to his side, looking alarmed at this development. Mandy then rose up, her burned face healing due to her immortality and power to control flesh, letting her red eyes burning with rage at the Brides.

"KILL THIS WITCH!" Vandire screamed, brandishing the Teardrop at Mandy.

With that, the Brides charged at Mandy without the slightest hesitation, power sword arcing with energy as they impaled her multiple times through the chest and arms before she was overwhelmed by their zeal and fury.

Suddenly, there was a flash of red before the blond witch disappeared from sight, leaving both Vandire and the Brides shocked and bewildered.

XXX

Sometime later...

Vandire palmed the Devil's Teardrop while sitting on his chair, gazing at his reflection in the reflective metal. Alicia had been granted an audience with the Emperor, while he was left there and thinking about how he did what he did.

Why did he still think about Miranda decades after she had been slain? Was it love? Was it her charisma and intelligence? Was it she... a light that somehow kept him together in the dark? The Ecclesiarch merely exhaled through his nostrils and sheathed the dagger in his weathered leather belt, letting himself rest against the back of his throne, letting his mind wander once more.

A noise that made him turn came as he saw Alicia Dominica and her vengeful sisters coming. They confronted the corrupt Vandire within his own chambers. The words that she spoke during this confrontation were engraved upon the black marble of her sarcophagus:

"You have committed the ultimate heresy. Not only have you turned your back on the Emperor and stepped from His light, you have profaned His name and almost destroyed everything He has striven to build. You have perverted and twisted the path He has laid for Mankind to tread. As your own decrees have stated, there can be no mercy for such a crime, no pity for such a criminal. I renounce your lordship; you walk in the darkness and cannot be allowed to live. Your sentence has been long overdue and now it is time for you to die."

With this proclamation, Dominica drew her power sword and held it aloft for all to see. The Mad Ecclesiarch that was Goge Vandire glanced around the assembled warriors, his brow knitted in confusion. Even at the end of his miserable life, the insane High Lord appeared so divorced from reality that he could scarcely comprehend Alicia's words.

Shaking his head slightly, the High Lord suddenly roared out, "I don't have time to die... I'M TOO BUSY!"

Suddenly, Vandire jumped from his chair and lunged at Alicia while brandishing the dagger that Mandy used in her attempt to assassinate him, much to the shock of the Daughters of the Emperor. Everything seemed to slow; Vandire descended with the dagger raised over his head, screaming in frenzied fury with madness burning in his eyes as his zucchetto fell way, letting his almost shoulder length grey hair flare out in the wind. Alicia's eyes were wide with shock before they narrowed and hardened, matching the fury in Vandire's eyes.

Everything returned to normal speed, Alicia raised her power sword and impaled Vandire in the sternum, piercing through his back but not before the dagger went into Alicia's shoulder. The Mad Ecclesiarch vomited chunks of blood before he slid off the blade, falling to the floor uncouthly, heat from the power sword boiling his innards rising from his throat as he exhaled a column of white odious steam.

Alicia let out a small hiss before she grabbed the Devil's Teardrop and ripped it from her shoulder without even a flinch. The dagger clattered on the floor while Alicia looks down on the man that she once served. Blood boiled out of his wounds as his stare grew blank, his Rosarius that protected him on San Leor sparked from some sudden damage as the barrier faltered and flickered before petering out. In a soft mutter, the Mad Ecclesiarch breathed out his last words, "The Emperor Protects."

The power sword slashed down, beheading the traitorous High Lord in one stroke.

Unknown to any of them, Mandy was watching the entire thing in the shadows, cloaked with her powers of infernal origin.

Mandy watched with a sinister smile on her face, "My thanks, Vandire." She then put a hand on her stomach, feeling the life growing inside of it, and gave a sigh almost of fondness, "You've gifted me with another pawn for my plans. And for that, I promise that I will remember you." And with that, the Queen of the Damned conjured a portal and exited into the Warp before any of the Daughters of the Emperor discovered her spying on the chambers of Vandire.

Damasus

Calixis Sector

A lone cultist of the Lost and Damned wandered on the grey lifeless ground, trudging through thick and thin before he looked up to the clouds covering the sky. The massive horde of Lost and Damned that he was a part of, stretching further then his eye could track.

Here he was! Actually, in the Warhammer 40K universe as a member of the Lost and Damned!

His enthusiasm wasn't diminished even when he realized the likelihood of him dying and him being reduced to a Chaos Spawn. But hey, he might have a lot of fun while he was here!

Still, he was starting to get a little bored with all the driving.

"Stop here!" The commander yelled out, causing his vehicle to stop along with the other convoys and foot soldiers. He and the other cultists immediately got out of the vehicle and searched around for any oncoming imperial forces.

"Set up camp around here!" The commander yelled out, motioning with his sabre for the others to go.

As they opened up the containers, the cultist couldn't help but to think about how he came to this point in his life.

Life's funny. When you're born, you practically have infinite possibilities, but as you get older, time shaves away many of those possibilities until it's all down to the path you're on and the possibilities that come out of that path. But when it comes to Chaos, you really have only three possibilities: die and have your soul either be consumed by daemons or be just another Lost Soul, fail the Gods and become a Chaos Spawn, or become a Daemon or Daemon Prince which opens all kind of possibilities then.

Why did he matter?

He knew who he was back on his earth; he was nobody. His parents raised him the best they could, even with all their problems, and even if they couldn't make enough time for him and his brother and sister. He was bullied sure, but he always rose above it, and because he did, so did his siblings. But things started to change when Chaos creeped its way into his earth.

When all was done, and everyone was cooked in the brain from Chaos juice, he just became another cultist.

He couldn't decide who he was; he had no ambitions, so Tzeentch was a no go. He was even tempered and calm, so Khorne was out. He never really despaired at anything, so he couldn't fall to Nurgle. And he never had any obsession or interest other than writing, so Slaanesh was out too.

So, all he could settle with was Chaos Undivided. Same couldn't be said about the rest of his family; his sister, mother, and grandmother joined Slaanesh, his brother succumbed to his anger issues and succumbed to Khorne, his dad let his curiosity get the better of him and succumbed to Tzeentch, and his grandfather killed himself rather than turn into a cultist.

Sure, he wasn't a super killer but hey, don't blame him for being humble.

Still, before Chaos came to his word, he was nobody. He had no ambitions, no desire to make himself known, no desire to be this man that stood above others, nothing for him to be anything else. All he got was a dead-end job at a fast-food place, no future for him. Maybe he was just a follower, not anybody else. He had no purpose and that was why he joined Chaos, because it gave him one.

"This is the beginning of the end. And I can't wait to watch the Imperium burn."

The most influential and mysterious figure he had seen in life. She appeared from nowhere and now she controls them all like she was the Führer of a Fourth Reich, almost like she could make anyone her toy to play with. Some say she is just an overrated leader with too many fingers in too many pies, other say that she is a glamorous psychopath, others... a Witch.

Her numbers and her blessings from the things make her almost untouchable, and her grasp far surpasses planetary borders, with dangerous contacts with other empires in other worlds, she is undoubtedly, the most dangerous being alive.

"So, you may prepare your guardians, build your monuments to a so-called Imperium of Man, but take heed... there will be no victory in strength."

The sound of shouts snapped the cultist out of his thoughts, causing him to turn to see the Imperial Guard coming toward him and the Lost. Immediately running on survival instincts, he immediately grabbed his gun and fired at the oncoming Imperial forces.

He was serving someone truly blessed by the Gods, someone who gave him meaning when he had no meaning, someone who took him into their arms when nobody else wanted him. Because of that, he owed her everything.

Why did his life matter when they were destined for something great?

He was suddenly shot in the chest just as he downed another guardsman. The shock was sudden, the pain almost absent, losing all feeling in his legs as he shot the man who shot him in the head before he collapsed to the ground. Nobody noticed, nobody cared, his comrades abandoning him to die as they ran towards the Imperial forces coming towards their positions.

Despite the pain, despite knowing the fate that awaited him, despite the fact that his sacrifice was meaningless, despite the fact that the leader that he laid his down for probably didn't even know his name... he was smiling.

The darkness slowly overcame him, seeing his body on the cold ground for the last time.

Damascus

On the other side of the planet

The dark skies darkened even more as the Lost and Damned roared out like the maddened hordes they were. However, they soon found themselves swelling with hordes of eager volunteers from all across the multiverse; the Sarkites, the Chaos Insurgency, the Locust Hordes, the Helghast, Nazis, Soviet soldiers, C.E.L.L troopers, and numerous others all swelling the masses of the Lost and Damned to immeasurably heights.

A fire that fueled the infernal powers that were beyond the known, a profanity of the mind and the soul that corrupted and turned the tides of the Immaterium. Yet despite this swelling numbers, they were too divided on their cause to unite into the force that it should have been. Consumed by petty squabbles and grudges, the Lost and Damned were a shadow of what it should have been.

However, that day changed it all.

The Queen of the Damned used both her presence and her charisma unite a significant portion of the Lost and Damned together into her personal army, collected numerous other cults to her side. It suddenly seemed like the Lost and Damned were slowly reaching what they should have been. Now, she was currently riding one of her personal vehicles; the Rending Fortress, a moving fortress armed with vast arrays of weapons and armaments cobbled from various tainted vehicles that were previously possessed by warbands that she conquered, combined into a war machine that could conquer entire continents.

Mandy said on her throne, one heavily decorated in the body parts, weapons, and armors of Chaos Campions that she had slain. A backrest that nearly reached the ceiling and terminating in the Star of Chaos and the Eye of Horus, the seat composed of red natural fabrics, the armrests composed of power swords from both Loyalist and Traitor Astartes, and with her legs resting on a footrest composed of the helms of fallen Traitor marines.

Mandy was wearing a white uniform that resembled the führer's uniform, a pressed wool tailored belted overcoat with skull pendants on the lapels, golden armguards that covered her forearms up to her wrists, a red armband with the Star of Chaos on the sleeve of her left upper arm, white pants with black leather jackboots, a cane made of black metal with a red glimmering orb grasped by jagged claws as the handle and a spear tip on the other end.

One both of her sides were two men wearing black Waffen-SS Panzer uniforms with the rank insignia of Obersturmführer. However, their faces and heads were covered by black masks with slanted narrowed red lenses and tubes that were connected on the sides of their heads and connecting to air tanks on the backs, their officer caps also had the HYDRA badge, a skull with tentacles under the jaw like an octopod, instead of the SS Totenkopf badge which also replaced the SS rune patch on the right side of the collar.

Soon, however, her commanders soon came to her with the leading one seeming rather eager.

Apparently, this man was the son of a dictator of a great empire, who had decided to go his own way in life. He was a tall man, short white hair with streaks of purple, a handsome face with skin white as snow, serpentine eyes possessing sclera black as night with imperial purple irises and cross shaped pupils, and jagged Glasgow smile scars that reached his ears. The mad general wore a black peaked cap with a badge that resembled a skull possessed eight octopoid tentacles, a dark grey dress shirt with that same skull badge on both sides of his collar and an Iron Cross over his black tie, a black greatcoat with silver trimmed lapels and a red armband that possessed a black eight pointed star on the upper right sleeve, black slacks with knee high black boots, and a bright red scarf around his neck.

This is Major Warden Pharos Gift, the son of an Imperial General who decided that he did not want to serve the Empire and went on his own path. She found him after acquiring what was known as one of the Lost Teigus, that he called Venom Eternia: Ars Goetia. It did not take her much convincing to join her, and as a reward for his loyalty, he became one of the Wardens for her Night Geist legions.

The Night Geists were composed of the worst of the worst, the cruelest, most depraved, most monstrous men and women of the Lost and Damned, taken from Underhives, barbaric tribes, decadent courts and houses, sadistic nobles, and the most horror filled of all the Imperial worlds, with more recruits coming from other universes. Former gang members, murderers, rapists, torturers, arsonists, and heretics taken from the Labyrinth of Ruin and various other Warbands. Others were even former members of the Imperial Guard, Arbites, and Cognitae, thrown out for excessive violence.

Originally formed by other Warbands as means of making use of prisoners, they were eventually disbanded due to their excessive cruelty, but the Queen of the Damned reformed them not long ago, using her connections to supply their ranks with criminals from the Imperium's worst prisons and mercenaries. However, their ranks were slowly reinforced after they uncovered a Talisman that allowed the user to control Danger Beasts of any Class, making them among the strongest of the Empire's armies.

And then she acquired scientists and alchemists, from the gene cults of Luna to the alchemy lodges of Secirna, to further boost their ranks with multitudes of abominations to natures and science.

They now stood at over 300 million strong, making them one of the largest and strongest Lost and Damned Legions in existence.

Of course, a Legion of this size required leadership to hold millions of criminals together. The Night Geists were divided up into several companies and battalions akin to the Legiones Astartes with the leaders of each battalion being given the rank of Warden due to the criminal origins of the Legion. The name "Night Geist" came from a phenomenon where the Lost and Damned of the legion gain unnatural abilities akin to ghosts; intangibility, ghostly white flames, conjuring ghosts, and a variety of fear inducing phenomenon.

The Elite of the Geists were not garbed the standard cobbled together and makeshift armor or ragged attire of the other Lost and Damned, but in personalized suits of Power Armor that resembled the aesthetic of the Night Lords but with a teal shaded white and black instead of blue and red.

The soldiers in the legion were varied beyond belief, despite having teal shaped white and black uniforms or armor; some clad in Waffen SS uniforms with helmets and gas masks, armed with either guns or flamethrowers. Others clad in armor that resembled a knight's, armed with either halberds and swords. Others still clad in teal shaded white and black hooded robes with iron skull masks, sashes lined with Dark Tongue script draped over their shoulders and skull necklaces around their necks, armed with maces and spiked staffs ending in burning torches.

Alongside the Black Legion were gargantuan beasts of varying sizes and shapes, some either carrying soldiers or chained and moving lethargically. Other more noticeable soldiers barely resembled people, more akin to monsters. Their faces concealed by iron helms, tubes going in and out of their skin that barely contained their muscles filled with godknowswhat, augmented with cybernetics like Najenda's but more cruder and terminating in claws, blades, or even machine guns. Others weren't even human, more resembled anthropomorphic cockroaches or mantises, others resembling beasts with lupine, hircine, porcine, ursine, cervine, and octopine features.

At his right was a middle-aged man with long black hair tied in a top ponytail, a twig in his mouth, his sclera revealed to be black with his irises red as blood, dressed in green, white, and black robes that were both baggy and formfitting that resembled the attire of a samurai, at his belt was a katana with a black blade that seemed to hiss with bloodlust.

At his left is a diminutive young woman with pale skin and short blond hair, amber eyes, wearing a turquoise dress with a white apron, white heels with black and white stripped stockings, including a turquoise ribbon on her head. Despite her quiet demeanor, anyone with the Witch Sight could feel her dark desires. Mandy vaguely was reminded of Alice in Wonderland by her looks.

Behind him was a young woman with a pink bob-style haircut and bunny ears accessory on her head, having star-like pupils along with her pink eyes. She wore a dark pink mini dress, a black collar with the Mark of Slaanesh and matching wristbands, jackboots, and a pair of glasses. She had a rather happy demeanor to her, humming to herself with her voice like a singing bell.

Also, behind him was a lean, muscular man with black hair styled in a triangular bob-like cut and small, light-colored eyes. He wore a black outfit which revealed his chest and light-colored pants with a sash, at his side was a scimitar-like blade that had a daemon bound to it. He looked at Mandy and gave a nervous smile, not wanting to piss her off.

These were Izou, Dorothea, Cosmina, and Enshin. With Syura and Champ absent as the two were killed in the last battle during the War.

"Lady Miranda." The lilac haired man said with a courteous bow, "We have managed to lead your forces to the final city under Imperial control. The problem is that since we have backed Imperial forces in a corner, using every opportunity to strengthen their hold. And we have reason to believe that they are calling for Astartes reinforcements."

"I see." Mandy said, tenting her hands together and resting her chin on them, "For that, I believe that we require a sacrifice to the Dark Gods. There is a rather large village near our location, so let us use it to strengthen our forces. Does this sound like something you could do, Gift?"

"My lady, it's what I and my squad do best." Gift grinned in excitement before he yelled out, "Come on, boys! To the village!"

The men under Gift's control let out a cheer of excitement at the sound of causing more carnage. Most of them grabbed their guns and swords, backing supplies and food into their vehicles behind them before they then boarded them and drove off to begin their carnival of slaughter. Gift and Izou all got into a Valkyrie before him and his 40,000 men to from her fortress to the outskirts of the village, leaving Enshin, Dorothea, and Cosmina behind.

"May I ask why you keep them around, my lady?" One of her guards at her side, more annoyed than disturbed at Gift's army's eagerness to commit atrocities.

"They have their uses." Mandy said before she conjured a chalice and supped the amber wine it held.

Unseen to her was her two children, Grim Junior and Mimimandy. The former named after Grim the Reaper, and the latter named after herself, though her real name was Minerva. The son vague had a resemblance to her while the daughter could be misinterpreted as a child clone of Mandy.

Grim Junior has bright sapphire eyes wears a black sweater with a hoodie, sports shoe and fingerless gloves.

Minnie has grey eyes and short curly blonde hair with bangs that was somewhat similar to Belicara of the Acolytes, and having a black hairband like her mother or Bell. She wore who wore a green blouse with light green pinstripes over a white dress shirt and a fuchsia cloth around her neck, fuchsia leggings with black shoes

Mandy turned to see her daughter peeking through the crimson drapes, causing the little girl to flinch back.

A sneer came across her face before she berated her daughter, "Hesitation is weakness, Minnie. And what the few things I may tolerate in this life, the one thing I will not stand for is weakness."

Minnie merely nodded with a scared look on her face, while Junior glared at her from behind his hiding spot.

XXX

The village of Bulat was almost tranquil, composed of wooden and metal housing cobbled into a shape that was a haphazard mixture of the two. Still, the crops were growing, and bellies were being filled, and as such people were happy. They talked to each other, took care of each other, raised themselves up when they fell to the ground, coming to a common ground even when the Imperials came to collect their tithes.

But something was wrong.

The winds seemed to change, the sky seemed to darken, there was a call in the horizon that seemed to stretch forever. The village elder seemed to get scared, screaming out that a storm was coming and that 'the Queen of the Damned shall drown the world is blackness.' He committed suicide just a few hours after yelling that.

Even stranger was the lack of Imperials coming to collect their corps and provide coin for them. Despite this, they were not worried at starving as they could produce their own food and drink from their crops, leaving them more well fed than usual. However, as the days passes, sounds of gunfire and artillery bombing came albeit faintly, scaring the women and children and worrying the men.

Soon, however, the sounds began to cease. Many in the village debated whether or not to go out to the nearest Imperial city to see what happened. In the cover of night, a few overconfident young men raced out to get answers. They never came back. And more trouble came when it seemed that there was nothing from the Imperials for months. Another group fled the village when they began to grow desperate for answers. They too never came back.

And now was another day of silence from the Imperials. No crops to give as tithe, no one to give them orders. It was unsettling, being free of the Imperials after all these years of repression.

A farmer cleaved another set of corps from the fields with his scythe, placing them gently into his sack while looking at all the others who harvested in silence. No words were spoken, because what could be spoken? Another day of silence, another day to harvest and feed their families. But still, there was a feeling that was settling over them that they couldn't shake from their bones.

Like doom itself was coming.

Suddenly, a rumbling sound came, causing the farmers to pause and look up from their crops to see a nightmare. A horde of vehicles slowly converged onto their village, clouds of black trailing behind them like they were the steeds of hell. The bloodthirsty looks on the armed men riding the vehicles were the faces of demons in human skin.

The farmers immediately ran back to their homes at the sight of these monsters, but they were too slow and the monsters too fast. They arrived at a speed immeasurable, dismounting and firing into the air to scare the civilians before they circled around the village to ensure that none of the villagers escaped from their grasp; horrid laughter rang out like they were enjoying a festival of carnality instead of the things that they were planning.

Baneblades took position in the outskirts of the village in case that any of the villagers tried anything funny, heavy weapons armed and trained on the crowds, the Night Geist circling around the crowd with their arms at the ready with them itching to fire at any moment. The crowds of villagers screamed out and in fear and panic, but the soldiers kept them back at arms pace.

"Harvest their crops! Gather all their food! We got mouths to feed!" Gift yelled out to some of his men, who responded by taking their sickles and got to harvesting the beige corps, before he turned to the ones surrounding the gathered villagers, "Ready the ritual!" And then under his breath, "And in the meantime."

Gift snapped his fingers, causing several of the Geist Legion to swiftly bring out a table and chair that the former then sat down on before another one set down an ebony bejeweled chalice and filled it with Amasec before another set a covered dish on it and pulled the cover away to reveal finely cooked Grox meat, steaming from the heat and the smell fragrant from the spices.

The major let out a pleased sound as he wrapped a white cloth around his neck to prevent stains on his uniform before he began to cut into the steak with a fork and knife, taking a piece and eating it. He let out another pleased sound as he swallowed and then took a sip of Amasec, "Mmm... Say what you will about Slaaneshis, they make a mean steak."

His bodyguards nod while looking jealous at such a meal. Seeing this, Gift sighed.

"Look, you two go get some food. You've done a good job so far." The pointed to the caravan where they had their food supply, "Just don't get greedy."

The two nodded as they walked off to get some food, leaving the Major to eat alone. However, one of the villagers managed to wrestle himself out of the crowd and grabbed a spear, roaring as he raced towards the Major who remained unfazed.

"DIE, YOU MONSTER!"

However, Gift merely threw a knife at the man, piercing his brain. The foolish man fell dead as blood pooled, scaring the villagers even more before the Geists managed to get them back in line. The Major merely resumed eating until his plate was cleaned, before he then stood up and his servants took away the table and chair.

Walking to a large cathedral that seemed to be made by incredibly fine metal while stirring his amasec in its cup, Gift took a sip as one of his men burst from the holy place and yelled out, "We're ready, sir!"

"Good!" Gift replied before he yelled out to the Geist Legion, "Push them all into that cathedral!"

Howls of laughter and cheering drown out the cries of panic and fear from the villagers before they were beginning to force them into the open gates of the cathedral, keeping them all in line via gunshots and swords pressed to their backs. When the last of the villagers were shoved into the cathedral, the troopers soon barricaded the entrance with a transport vehicle, trapping them inside.

The sounds of panic soon set in as the troops boarded up the stain glass windows with metallic boards and horrid cloths made from human skin. Gift grinned while stirring his cup of amasec before gulping it down and handing it to another soldier, before he, Izou, and a few of their men climbed up the relatively small cathedral before busting one of the stain glass windows open and climbing inside.

"Quiet! I declare the meeting open!" Gift roared out as he got to a ledge where he was overlooking all of the masses, "Who wants the floor?"

However, his shout was drowned out by the voices of the panicking villagers that cried out for mercy and fear, some on pews and praying for mercy, others banging on the doors and walls in a desperate attempt to escape, while the rest were screaming and begging the soldiers outside for mercy.

Having an annoyed stare at the panicking masses, Gift extended an open hand out to the side before it was then given a Mauser C96 by one of his men. He then raised the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.

A gun shot, then silence from the terrified masses that they had captured, all of them staring at the major who then blew off the smoking barrel of the gun before holstering it.

"Now, that I have your attention." Gift yelled before he exhaled to compose himself, "Since we're in a good mood, you all get to die by the way the Gods want it; burning. But!" He raised a hand before any of them could speak out, "Since we're good sports, you can leave through that opening," He pointed to a broken window near the main mosaic depicting the Emperor on the Golden Throne, before he continued before any gained hope, "On the condition that you leave the children behind. Leave the kids and you're free."

Silence reigned when Gift's words sank in before it was broken.

"BEASTS!" One villager yelled out in rage and anger, "YOU ARE ALL BEASTS!"

A cacophony of angry and fearful screams came but Gift merely ignored them as he motioned for Izou and his men to leave even as the villagers screamed louder and louder. They exited the broken stain glass window, climbing down the walls of the cathedral before the Major raised his arm, causing the Night Geist to ready their weapons before the villagers managed to get out.

There were screams and shouts of fear and resistance, trying to push out against the walls of the cathedral's reinforced structures. In the chaos, one boy managed to crawl out of the broken window, not caring that his hands got cut on the glass in the attempt, falling to the ground and trying to escape while he could before he was caught by the Lost and Damned, dragging him away from the cathedral while they laughed and jeered at the people trapped inside before they began to start the ritual.

Warden Gift raised an arm to the air as a few women and men managed to get out of the cathedral that were snatched away before one of them readied a thermal detonator in his hand.

The screams reached a climax as various hands appeared through the hole, grasping at the sides in the hopes to break chunks of it off so they could escape.

The Major then threw his arm down in a slicing motion, causing the trooper to press the button before chucking it into the hole. It fell into the hands of a villager, who only had a second to look at it in confusion before it detonated.

The explosion rocked the structure, erupting in flames and smoke while the red mist of whatever remained of those caught in the blast spewing out, screams and roars intensifying as whatever was left splattered onto the survivors and interior. Not determined, the Lost and Damned began throwing Molotov cocktails and a variety of different types of grenades inside, adding more fuel to the pyre as the cathedral was slowly destroyed chunk by chunk in the blazing storm of fire.

All of it almost having the atmosphere of a carnival instead of a slaughter, the men and women of the Lost and Damned cheering and drinking, laughter drowning out the screams of the civilians burning in the pyre that was their cathedral.

The boy who had escape could only stare at the relentless waves of raw, naked, unvarnished horror in front of him as he stared at the burning cathedral where he prayed for countless days and nights with his friends and family, where the priest preached the strength of the Emperor and the Imperium, where he saw his best friend's brother get married, where his parents got married, where he became a believer.

Now it was all gone.

Suddenly, he was grabbed on the shoulder by a laughing Gift as the Geist Legion continued laughing at the sight of the church burning, dragging him away from the sight of the burning church.

"Hey!" The major called out to one of the troopers who had an old polaroid camera on him, "Get a picture of us!"

The trooper nodded, the boy attempting to break out of his grasp but Gift then unholstered his Mauser and pointed it directly against the boy's temple, silencing him outright in terror. A few other soldiers came to their commander's side, playfully posing for the camera, not seeing and not caring about the boy's terrified expression with his eyes on the gun pointed at his temple.

The trooper with the camera focused on the five, letting the image come into focus before he pressed the button. A white flash came as another explosion rang from the burning cathedral, none flinching and the boy daring not to flinch out of fear. The photo then printed out from the slot before the trooper took it out and started shaking it to develop it faster.

"Whoa, dude. Don't." Gift stopped him from shaking the photograph, "Shaking it messes up the photo."

"Oh, sorry." The trooper said as he gave Gift the photograph.

It developed nicely, showing the Warden with his men having posed playfully for the camera, the flaming cathedral in the background with the smoke bellowing out to where it shrouded the sky, the boy on his knees with a terrified expression and the Mauser barrel pressed into his temple.

Gift gave an amused smile, before he turned to the photographer, "Well, you had good sense." The Warden then turned back to the burning cathedral as the others laughed and drank, watching the villagers give out on final cry of agony before they were finally silenced. Then a swarm of specters in a cloud of teal shaded white came out of the ruins and washed over the Night Geists, seemingly absorbing them into their ranks.

With that done, the Night Geists began to pack up and head out back to Mandy's fortress for the final assault before the world is overtaken by the Forces of Chaos.

Before leaving, Gift took one last look at the boy; his hair was barely and inch long, but the brown had begun to whiten and grey like an old man, becoming a steely grey shade starting at the roots. His face was marred with wrinkles and dirt, disheveled and grotesque, bags under his eyes that showed a stare that stretched a thousand yards and worth a million words. Whatever used to be this boy was gone. All that was left was a haunted, withered husk of a person that would never recover.

But that stare was starting to annoy Gift.

"Hey!" The Major Warden snapped at him before kicking him in the gut. The boy fell to the ground from the blow, grunting slightly but didn't react otherwise. Giving an annoyed glare but then shaking his head, deciding that he wasn't worth it, Gift then walked off with Izou, as the two walked to the Major's Valkyrie as its engines roared to live.

The boy was left to die, laying in the ruins of his village, hot smoke draping over him like a gaseous burial shroud. They left him alive, but he wished they didn't.

Just as the Geists left, and the rest of the village was set further ablaze, their laughter faded. The boy didn't cry as he laid and felt himself burn by the smoke of his home. As the echoes of their laughter began to cease, a burning hate flared in his eyes, almost like an inferno igniting in the atmosphere of the planet.

He swore to make the Night Geists pay.

XXX

Mandy turned to see the tower of smoke raising to the darkening skies of the planet, smirking as the Geists came back in full. It was time for her plan.

Even now she heard the sounds of the Imperials now, rallying the survivors to the fight while reinforcements from off world came.

"We shall fight in Damascus. We shall fight on the seas and oceans. We shall fight with continence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our lands, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets. We shall fight in the hills... We shall never surrender!"

Mandy scoffed, knowing that it was too late for them or this planet.

"Ready the troops. This planet is ours." The Queen of the Damned ordered as the final city came into view.

Three years later...

The Dreaded Crown

Mandy gave another grunt as she cut her hand before letting the droplets of blood fall on the ritual circle composed of black and orange power arranged in the Star of Chaos, in the middle was an effeminate figure bound in bandages that hid her features, chains binding both her hands and ankles, and her neck.

Though the invasion of Damascus was thwarted, it forced the Imperium to scorch the earth and rebuild the cities of the planet from scratch, meaning that she still got what she came to do; mass sacrifices for the Gods. After the battle that slaughtered a majority of the Imperial and Traitor forces, Mandy used the mass of departed souls as a sacrifice to the greatest Bloodthirster ever to be created by Khorne.

Ka'Bandha.

When the Breaker of Angels rampaged through the city, both the loyalist and traitor forces fell under his wrath, rooting out those with no loyalty to her and giving a great sacrifice to the roaring fires of Ka'Bandha's wrath.

For the great bounty of skulls that he had reaped from both her enemies and allies, Ka'Bandha laughed. A laugh that echoed through the Warp. A laugh that was as deep as the Skull Throne itself. The Breaker of Angels then thanked her for this feast of skulls before departing back to the Realm of Brass and Blood, the Queen of the Damned hearing Khorne's pleased laughter echo through the air.

This managed to get her the Dreaded Crown, an Emperor-Class battleship from the Horus Heresy that used to belong to the Word Bearers. Meanwhile, her followers and Gift was off with the Night Geists trying to collect other artifacts for her and her new... benefactor.

"Tell me, Black Hat..." Mandy said to no one in particular, standing back up as the cuts on her wrists sealed like liquid, "Does your idiot minions disappoint you as much as mine do?"

A laugh came from the bleeding shadows before something stepped out.

The thing in front of her had dark grey skin, a noseless face with one of its eyes covered by what appeared to be a rimless monocle that reflected while the uncovered eye merely possessed a single void-like pupil, a mouth filled with teal fangs that seemed to change at every shift in its expression, and the upper part of its head was covered by a black top hat with a red band around it. The thing's grinning expression was one of malicious and calculating intent, not even the slightest twitch of muscle or deforming of the chest for breath.

It was dressed rather formally; a black ankle length trench coat with a popped collar and red inner lining over a light grey waistcoat and red dress shirt with a black tie, dark grey pants and black shoes with spats covered its lower half, and a cane composed of writhing shadows in his hands.

"They disappoint me as often as yours." Black Hat's smile faded as quickly as it came, "But unfortunately, they're loyalty too much a quality to be rid of. That said, one can only get so much from a handful of skilled individuals. Quantity is a quality of its own."

"I suppose." Mandy said, before she looked upon her hand, seeing a red version of the eight-pointed star with a fanged maw in the center printed on her palm. An identical one was also on her other palm. "Still, I believe it is time, no?"

Black Hat nodded as he came closer to her, "Yes, but it will not be an easy process. To acquire such power from the Gods is to gain their favor. And gaining the favor of each of the Gods is a nigh impossible feat. Lorgar and the Word Bearers gain such a favor due to their intense devotion, but it was an arduous task regardless. A primarch and a legion fought for this much for over 10,000 years. What can a single human do?"

The Queen of the Damned merely gave a confident grin, "I think I can show you."

She then extended her hand out to the circle and the bound woman, the red Star of Chaos on her palm beginning to move clockwise. The powders ignited in ethereal white flames, scorching the arm and sides of the bound woman, who screamed into the bandages over her mouth before the flames erupted into a torrent that consumed her entirely, burning brightly to where both Black Hat and Mandy had to cover their eyes.

Soon, the bound woman was torn in twain, blood becoming inky and black before swirling into an orb. Whatever was left of her was reduced to ash by the flames before a small slithering strip of a soul escaped from the blaze and coiled around Mandy's wrist, solidifying into a metal wristband that resembled the ouroboros.

An almost wistful expression came on her face, whispering so quietly, "You can rest now, Rasa."

Black Hat raised an eyebrow over his monocle but said nothing.

The orb then expanded and opened, revealing the Warp in all its majesty before she turned to Black Hat with a confident grin, "I can show you what a single human can do." With that, she entered the portal that closed behind her.

The Dark Master merely gave a grunt, waiting to be impressed by her.

Many years later...

The Crystal Labyrinth

The Warp

Mandy had trekked for what felt like a millennium, tugging on the strings of fate to create a path that would lead her to the Realms of the Gods. Another time, she would have given up by now. But she knew herself better than that; she never quits.

The journey was fierce, forced to wrestle the tides of the Immaterium to a path that led to the Realms of the Gods. Black Hat said that to earn the power of the Gods was to endure each realm

Regardless, that did not stop her from gawking when her eyes came towards them.

All thoughts in Mandy's head died as her eyes laid to the maze, it was sculpting with fog, describing a dream as it occurs, singing silently, painting with mist, and the like. It was impossible to think, yet there it was before her hapless sight. Shapeless yet with structure, hardened yet with fluidity, each opening closing as quickly as it came like a sea of gaping suckering mouths. It changed consistently, sometimes fluidly, other times as a mass of rocks, cracking and breaking.

Suddenly, a massive artery-like tunnel extended from the maze to where Mandy stood. The innards of it smooth as fine stone yet pulsed and flowed fluidly and organically like flesh. Hesitantly, she travels down the passage, the tunnel itself furling back into the maze behind her.

The Queen of the Damned came through the passage, before she came to the interior. An enormous crystalline labyrinth dominates the landscape, a luminescent plane shimmering like a polished, mottled opal. Passages in this maze appear, dissolve, merge, split, and change direction seemingly at random.

In spite of the constantly shifting nature of the Architect of Fate's domain and the limited capacity of the mortal mind to perceive and comprehend it, the immortal who gazed into the crystalline substance that composes this maze saw more than light reflected and refracted in the fluctuating facets of the shining surfaces. He caught glimpses of fears, miseries, and hopes made visually manifest; dreams and nightmares; histories real and imagined; potential futures; images of torment, ecstasy, and despair; and abstract thoughts made momentarily concrete as pictures in the scintillating crystals.

Then she saw a dangling humanoid creature wandering aimlessly it eternally as miserable, insane shells of their former selves, forever tormented by ghastly visions, regrets over their mistakes and missed opportunities, and the hopes for a tomorrow that they will never realize.

The Queen's feet gouge the floor with her steps only for the prints to sink and close. Curious, Mandy picked up a flowing piece of the floor after witnessing this, it stretched and molded to her palpitations as if it was a cool touchable molten glass. Satisfied, she dropped it, the lump she molded it into sunk into the floor like a droplet of water.

Suddenly, something opened in front of her and out stepped a figure of Tzeentchian origin. It was 7.11 feet tall with a dark blue triangular banded long robe with black boots, leggings and gloves, it's frame bone thin and lean, a hemispherical device engrained on it's back, the face green with ruby eyes with crystalline sheen and insect-like antenna bending back at the ends at a sharp angle, and the symbol of Tzeentch engraved on the chest.

"Greeting, human." The thing said with distain in its tone, its voice both deep and slimy, "The Changer of Ways is expecting you."

Mandy blinked in shock, though she shouldn't be surprised. Tzeentch's web of plans had to include her eventually.

"Come, Miranda." The Marquis of Locusts beckoned with his hand, knowing her name before she had a chance to say it, "I, Zim, will guide you through the Impossible Labyrinth."

She blinked as he showed her through the passage, following the alien as he kept a hand raised that seemed to keep the path together. Another blink, and it was as if the nature of the Labyrinth was laid bare.

Just as Tzeentch manifests and appears in many different guises, many of them fluid and shifting, so too, the domain of the Changer of Ways within the Realm of Chaos - the Realm of the Sorcerer - constantly adapts to its master's whims, desires, moods, and, of course, the demands of his Thousand and One Plots. Observers Human, xenos, and Daemon perceive and interpret this territory in a wide variety of ways.

In fact, some scholars and a few of the more coherent first-hand witnesses who have survived contact with Tzeentch's realm have suggested that neither mortal nor Daemon, save perhaps the most powerful Lords of Change, can grasp the true nature of Tzeentch's shifting realm. Most who visit the domain of the Great Mutator quickly go mad; those of exceptionally strong mind and strong will can perhaps interpret but one facet of the often crystalline landscape that, like Tzeentch himself, has an infinite number of faces.

Many commentators suggest that the mortal mind can only perceive this world of Warp energy wrought into something resembling solid form through symbols or metaphors, images created by the mind of the iron-willed in an attempt to make sense of pure Chaos and constant change.

In fact, many commentators rely on paradoxical metaphors even to describe the process of perceiving Tzeentch's realm itself: sculpting with fog, describing a dream as it occurs, singing silently, painting with mist, and the like. The Great Ocean of the Warp is a sea of madness and insanity, and Tzeentch's realm is the concentrated essence of such things given form.

In spite of the constantly changing nature of the domain of the Architect of Fate and the limited capacity of the mortal mind to perceive and comprehend it, certain common views have emerged from the extant descriptions of Tzeentch's realm. Some observers claim that an enormous crystalline labyrinth dominates the landscape, a luminescent plane shimmering like a polished, mottled opal. Passages in this maze appear, dissolve, merge, split, and change direction seemingly at random.

Only the Lords of Change, Tzeentch's Greater Daemons, and those with the trenchant insights of the irrevocably mad can hope to understand the design of Tzeentch's deranged maze and to navigate its corridors. No Daemons are needed to act as sentinels in Tzeentch's realm; the labyrinth itself provides sufficient protection against anyone rash and foolhardy enough to attempt an assault on the Great Schemer.

Those who gaze into the crystalline substance that composes this maze may see more than light reflected and refracted in the fluctuating facets of the shining surfaces. They may catch glimpses of fears, miseries, and hopes made visually manifest; dreams and nightmares; histories real and imagined; potential futures; images of torment, ecstasy, and despair; and abstract thoughts made momentarily concrete as pictures in the crystals.

One visionary reported seeing various images of his children at different points in their lives, all of them moments of despair, sorrow, and desperation. Another recounted her experiences in Tzeentch's realm as one of exultation and ecstasy as she witnessed reflected representations of what she took to be her possible futures, each more joyful and successful than the last.

Yet another claimed to observe nightmare imagery in the mirrored surface of the labyrinth: Daemons rending flesh from friends and loved ones, the destruction of his home by dark sorcerers wielding Warpfire, and worst of all, the transformation of his own body into a tentacled, writhing mass. When this last traveler was finally able to tear his gaze away from the hellish visions, he discovered that solar days had passed and that his body had indeed changed into the hideous Chaos Spawn he had seen in his vision.

Visions show that all three of these individuals met with tragic ends: suicide, insanity, and execution at the hands of the Inquisition, respectively. In one sense, these survivors of Tzeentch's realm were fortunate, as it is rumoured that most who travel through the maze of the Raven God wander it eternally as miserable, insane shells of their former selves, forever tormented by ghastly visions, regrets over their mistakes and missed opportunities, and the hopes for a tomorrow that they will never realise.

While the passage of time in the Warp fluctuates and does not correspond to its regular, linear flow in the normal four-dimensional space-time of the Materium, the inconsistency of time's progression is even more pronounced in Tzeentch's realm.

As the anecdote above suggests, in what seems like a few solar minutes spent gazing into the depths of the crystals of Tzeentch's labyrinthine realm, solar days or even standard years can pass. Two individuals might enter Tzeentch's realm in the same instant in time; one might exit moments later and report that years had passed, whereas the other could spend centuries of real time in Tzeentch's realm but swear that he had been gone only minutes.

In addition, other peculiarities in individuals' subjective perceptions of time occur within Tzeentch's realm itself. A single footstep may seem to take solar hours to complete. What seems like a few seconds spent admiring the beautiful refraction of light on the crystalline structure of the maze can take Terran days.

Many visitors "momentarily" transfixed by some curiosity in Tzeentch's realm have died of dehydration or starvation. Others can spend years wandering the insane corridors of Tzeentch's maze without drinking, eating, or resting - their metabolism apparently slowed by Chaos influences.

Legends tell of an entity known as the "Guardian of the Maze" that inhabits the Crystalline Labyrinth. Though its name implies that it serves as the protector of Tzeentch's realm, it is said to function more as a gatekeeper and observer. Rumours tell of a path through Tzeentch's realm that, in theory, anyone, mortal or Daemon, may follow to discover infinite knowledge.

To follow this path, the inquisitive pilgrim must travel through nine gates. These portals, three times the height of a man, appear as golden arches wreathed in the blue and pink Warpfire of Tzeentch. Such is the power of the Guardian of the Maze, or perhaps it is the bizarre temporal nature of Tzeentch's twisting realm itself, that the Guardian manifests as a giant disembodied mouth hovering above all nine gates simultaneously.

At each gate, the mouth ponderously speaks, asking those seekers of knowledge one of the nine hundred and ninety-nine Riddles of Tzaratxoth. Those who answer the riddles correctly may pass through the gates and continue along the path to ultimate enlightenment. Those who fail to answer correctly are doomed to wander the labyrinth for all eternity wracked with insanity and regret over the infinite knowledge that might have been theirs.

The Impossible Fortress that lies at the heart of the Realm of the Sorcerer.

Tzeentch's sanctum sanctorum, the Impossible Fortress, is said to lie at the centre of the crystalline maze, if indeed geographical descriptors such as "centre" apply with any accuracy to this inconstant realm. Some consider this as more akin to a central belief or conceit that might drive a series of thoughts than an actual location, as nothing of this area has physicality as mortals would comprehend it.

While this ætheric edifice is in constant flux, many have described it as a crystalline castle composed of the same sort of material as the labyrinth that surrounds it. Imbalanced spires spontaneously emerge from the ever-shifting foundation of the Impossible Fortress, as do towers of blue and pink flame and searing Warpfire.

Gates, doors, and portals slowly open, as if yawning with the ennui of ages, only to slam shut like mouths of terrible beasts and then disappear. Mortals shackled by the psychological manacles forged by a lifetime of habit and enculturation in the material realm cannot fathom the perverse design of Tzeentch's home.

Indeed, as the name of this fastness implies, even the most visionary and heretical designers of the material realm could not draft plans for the maddening architecture of the Impossible Fortress. Few Daemons, save the most powerful Lords of Change, can navigate its corridors, but as these creations are intelligent distillations of the madness that makes up Tzeentch's realm, they thrive all the same.

Deep inside the Impossible Fortress, according to some profane accounts, lies Tzeentch's fabled Hidden Library. This infinite collection of tomes, scrolls, and parchments of every kind contains every scrap of knowledge and thought ever recorded in Creation; stories written and unwritten; histories true and alternate; and accounts of futures potential, actual, and imagined.

Many of the volumes are so weighty with knowledge that they gain a sentience of a kind and spend centuries chattering to passersby, arguing with one another, rewriting themselves, and then reorganising their placement accordingly. Magical chains of Warpflame help to protect the books and bind them in place.

Horrors serve as grotesque librarians and work tirelessly to re-shelve the works, catalogue the collection, and maintain what passes for order in the Impossible Fortress, though as the concept itself is anathema to the Great Mutator, no mortal could possibly fathom such a design.

As with so many things associated with the Changer of Ways, few things are always as they seem. Although the Crystal Labyrinth, the Impossible Fortress, and the Hidden Library often appear (or at least are often perceived) as delineated above, by no means are these descriptions consistent with every narrative provided by those unfortunate mortal souls who have visited Tzeentch's domain.

Bock Sammaelle, dubbed the "Lunatic Scrivener of Hamclov Prime" by the hive city princes who acted as his patrons, claimed to have travelled to and returned from Tzeentch's realm in the early 41st Millennium. Sammaelle attested that he saw nothing but a bleak hill on which a single, leafless tree stood.

Daylasse Dial, the Heretic illuminator of Phalan 10 who was later executed for heresy, described Tzeentch's realm as a barren, desert landscape populated by deformed, headless humanoids that continually split and reformed into new bodies.

Other witnesses have described a realm of pulsating and constantly morphing protoplasm, towers of fungus and mould, continents of sentient vegetation and vines without finite length, and vast landscapes of nothing but barren stone and ash. It is likely that Tzeentch's realm is all of these things and many more.

Others have suggested that observers interpret Tzeentch's realm subjectively, filtering their perception of structured Warp energy through their own psychological expectations and experiences. It may be most probable that Tzeentch himself determines how each mortal or daemonic individual perceives his realm to suit the needs, whims, and conspiracies of the Master of Lies.

and they were at the end, coming to what appeared to be a laboratory that was lined with shelves containing vast rolls of parchment containing the spells of Tzeentchian spells, several vats filled with abominations that seemed both of flesh, machine and spirit, beetle and crustacean like drones tended to both; either cleaning or checking the subjects for deviant signs.

The alien came to a pedestal where something floated above it, something awe-inspiring. It was a mechanical orb, composed of a series of azure gold trimmed metallic tiles, each having a different rune engraved in their material, glowing brightly with white light. Inside was a swirling tide of blue Chaos mass that seemed more akin to a sleeping entity than a swarm of Warp energy.

"They call it the Hexcore." Zim revealed to her, "A device that allows the Warp to speak through, becoming almost an archaic artificial intelligence. Each rune acts as a window, all forming their own unique combinations like that of neurons firing in a brain. A fusion of magic and technology that can evolve and learn like a soul."

"A Warp-based AI..." Mandy whispered with an awed tone in her voice, "Fascinating."

"Both artificial and alive." Zim replied, conjuring an orb of Warp fire that was then devoured by the core, "Sculpted from several millennium worth of arcane knowledge and chaotic sorcery, merging it through advanced machinery, creating a true artificial intelligence. Inside it is a collective of power and knowledge that even I cannot realize."

The Queen of the Damned seemed almost like she was in a trance staring at it, only able to break out of it when she turned to Zim, "And this means?"

"To gain the favor of Tzeentch, you must intake what it has to give." Zim explained, gently pushing her towards the core, "Let it impart onto you its great power. Let it help you gain its great knowledge. Let it help you gain Tzeentch's favor."

That caught her attention as she snapped her gaze towards the Marquis of Locusts, "Tzeentch's favor?"

"The Architect of Fate informed to me that if you wished for his favor, you must embody the aspects of his being." Zim informed, "Ambition, intrigue, knowledge, evolution, and above all... hope."

Hope... that word felt so foreign... But even as she gazed into the light of the Hexcore, it was as if she could feel the pull of the emotion of hope.

"You may not think it, but hope is a feeling that is impossible to extinguish." Zim told the mystified Mandy, "There will always be hope when someone rises from the ground after a defeat. When someone suffers. When someone has not broken under the weight of the grim dark universe. Even in the Imperium, even in their crushing might, there is the barest flickers of hope."

"So... what now?"

"Chaos, in its barest, most basic, and most fundamental form, is change." Zim told her, gesturing to the Hexcore that seemed to intensify with her presence, "To endure change is to adapt. To adapt is to learn. To learn is to see change. One must allow change to overtake them, and then endure."

Mandy absorbed his words, transfixed on the everchanging Hexcore as wispy tendrils of mist seemed to extend from its inner parts. She subconsciously raised a hand to the core, letting the tendrils slither around her fingers as she slowly walked towards it as if in a trance. Her hands extended towards the Hexcore as if to cup it in her palms.

A growl of determination overcame her, and she grasped the Hexcore with both of her hands, letting the power flow through her.

She screamed. Azure circuits formed on her arms that trailed to her eyes that lit up like stars, her hair flaring around as sky blue lightning arced through the lab, causing Zim to avert his eyes from the brightness. Her eyes darted in all direction, the information of a million timelines burrowing into her head and boiling her brain, seeing the thoughts of the universe itself.

ItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchSTOPItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchItwastoomuchITHURTSItwastoomuchItwastoomuchSTOPITMAKEITSTOPICANTTAKEITISEETHEUNIVERSEISEETHEGODSSTOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP

"DON'T GIVE UP, QUEEN OF THE DAMNED!" Zim roared out in his bombastic voice, snapping Mandy from her madness, "YOU WANTED THE POWER?! THEN CONQUER IT! DON'T JUST FIGHT IT! BE! IT!"

His words resonated with her, reigniting her willpower like a pyre of determination. Her teeth splintered, a roar of sheer will echoes out as she grasped the device, nearly crushing it as she absorbed all the power that she could take from its ethereal essence. The Hexcore seemed to roil with power as it unleashed more eldritch essence into the Queen's body, but she stubbornly endured it.

A blast shook the lab, sending both Zim and Mandy flying as the latter landed on her feet and the former extended several arachnid-like legs and skidded to a grinding halt. The Hexcore didn't seem damaged, but it seemed to be more frantic, taking in the power of the Changer of Ways before it seemed to settle down. Whispers soon came, almost like a pleased mumble.

Suddenly, there was a pain in her arm, causing her to roll the sleeve up on her left arm to see the Mark of Tzeentch glowing a light azure. Mandy stared at the Mark before a delirious grin came across her face, before the strength left her legs but Zim caught her and helped her stand.

"That..." Mandy mumbled before she fell into unconsciousness.

Zim rolled his eyes before picking her up, carrying her through the lab before the sounds of flapping wings came to his hearing organs. The Locust lord turned to see a Lord of Change descending down before gently landing next to him, taking an interest in the immortal in his arms.

"ThE cHaNgEr Of WaYs HaS tAkEn InTeReSt." The Lord of Change spoke in a voice that changed in volume and pitch randomly, "HeR wIlL iS lIkE iRoN, hEr StReNgTh Is LiKe An UnMoViNg PiLlAr."

"Yes, her will is beyond what I have seen from all the humans that I have met." Zim admitted that this human impressed him by her sheer willpower, "She may be the prophesized one."

The Garden of Nurgle

Mandy was usually glad that she was immortal, due to the extent of her plans. This moment was when she was especially glad had obtained immortality. For she was now in the Garden of Nurgle.

No matter the amount of diseases infesting her body from the Garden of Nurgle, her immortality began to heal and purge them from her flesh, which prevented her from falling completely to the Grandfather. Regardless of her harnessing Nurglite sorcery, the infections would not overtake her and her soul. That and she continued to intake the rot-choked air sulfated with thousands of undiscovered diseases.

The figure in front of her was almost impossibly old, covered in a tattered rags infested with moss and plant matter, his face corpse-like with eyes of milk white and green chlorophyl filled skin with no lips or cheeks, exhaling green and black clouds of pestilence, the head covered by a wide conical reed hat similair to Vitenamese rice farmers, corpse-like hands with moss and vines curling around the fingers. His spine was curved almost in a hunchback but sitting in a lotus position, seemingly at peace.

Mandy was in the same position, being clad in brown rags as to fit in. Her placid face masked her discomfort with the Garden of Nurgle, but went along with it as it meant more power for her. She tried to force the essence of the Garden to her will, but it was like trying to bend an indestructible material, it seemed to resist her attempts to wrestle it under her control.

She continued to try and sculpt the power to her will, but it always seemed to resist her influence like a force that refused to bend. The Mystic seemed to notice her struggles and merely shook his head.

"You are doing it wrong."

Mandy's head snapped towards the old Nurglite, who remained unfazed by her red eyes. The Mystic merely opened his palm as a series of vines grew out and weaved together into a thin staff as long as he was tall. Suddenly, he then brandished the staff at the swamp waters across from the grass edge where they were sitting.

The swamp water slowly parted as a monstrous tree emerged, gnarled branches with flies and maggots crawled through the bark and new uncorrupted flora sprouting out like newborns. Mandy frowned; he made using Nurglite sorcery seem as easy as breathing.

"You are trying to force the power under your will." The Mystic replied, "It must be like a gentle river rather than a raging storm."

When she was about to ask what he meant, Mandy looked to the Garden for an answer, remembering the Mystic's lessons before.

The Land of the Plaguelord, often better known as the Garden of Nurgle, is no ordinary garden. Perhaps it is not really a garden at all, but the mortal minds that contemplate the manifested will of the Plague Lord must attempt to make some sort of sense out of what they have seen or heard about in whispered tales. They must place it in some sort of relatable context that they can consider without going insane. The same tomes and other forbidden texts that have attempted to describe the lord of the land himself have, for the most part, agreed that the idea of Nurgle's realm being a perverse, deadly, and yet strangely beautiful garden best puts Chaos into terms they can fathom.

Like a normal garden, the domain of Nurgle is home to a bewildering array of flora and fauna, all interconnected and supporting the whole. Beds of bright blue shovelpetal plants dig themselves up and leave the dirt in which they grew so that Plaguebearers can plant new skullseeds in the rich loam. As the skullseeds grow and blossom, they attract bounding, stomping, over-exuberant Beasts of Nurgle that mistake their fruits for the heads of new playthings. This scatters their matter violently into the air where it comes to rest on the wings of the ubiquitous flies. Slowed by the sticky pulp of the splattered plants, these insects become easy prey for other flying creatures that ingest them as they soar through the rot-choked air.

Unbeknownst to the predators, bloatflies are carriers of many of Nurgle's experimental diseases and other creations. With their innards thus infected, these predators sicken, vomiting the contents of their guts all across the garden as they fly about and eventually explode in showers of life-giving flesh and blood. This bounty of mutated and mutilated tissue falls into new areas of the garden beneath, decaying into compost and starting the cycle of life and death anew.

Though the Garden of Nurgle does share certain commonalities with gardens and jungles on planets in realspace, it still is not a worldly garden in any sane sense. A visitor in this bizarre and perilous realm doesn't walk from this place to that. They experience what needs to be experienced. Even the Daemons that tend the Garden of Nurgle are not really what might be thought of as a work force that arrives at a place, does a job, and then leaves for other regions.

These Daemons are a part of the experience of the Garden of Nurgle itself. This is especially troublesome for the Plaguebearers, whose metamorphosed minds were once mortal, and still strive to impose a modicum of reality in their unreal existences. Still, even the Plaguebearers accept their place in the garden and spend their eternity enjoying all it offers in their own way.

The Plaguefather affords all his children many ways to explore and appreciate his realm, and even to become a part of it. Though he is a god of Chaos, he also has a need to create order, to monitor his creations, and to control his experiments. A visitor to Nurgle's realm would find a dizzying amount of diversity of experiences. Here they might find trees made of nothing but the flesh of Aeldari, constantly oozing the tears of a dying race. There they might find fields where tongues sprout up from the earth, each one blistered by the malign influence of a different infection. There is no telling what wonders await around each bend in the paths that stretch and wind throughout the Garden of Nurgle, but any who encounter them will surely have their sanity tested and questioned, should they survive to share the tale.

The Land of the Plaguelord is an ever-changing realm, shifting according to the needs and whims of its master. Many areas exist only temporarily, taking shape to allow the Plague God to indulge a particular fancy or to be granted to an especially accomplished Great Unclean One as a reward. Even so, the legends hint that some aspects of this foetid domain remain relatively constant. Nurgle has need of fields in which to plant his crops of blighted herbs, pits to hold the bodies upon which he conducts his experiments, and, most important of all, a gigantic and decrepit mansion in which to store his creations, brew his legendary contagions, entertain guests, and plot the course of the Great Corruption.

While the mortal realm is laid waste by blight and pestilence, the lands of Nurgle in the Realm of Chaos thrive on disease and corruption. Tended by the Lord of Decay, this unwholesome realm is home to every pox and affliction imaginable and is foetid with the stench of rot. Twisted, rotten boughs entangled with grasping vines cover the mouldering ground, entwining like broken fingers. Fungi, both plain and spectacular, break through the squelching mulch of the forest floor, puffing out clouds of choking spores.

The stems of half-daemonic plants wave of their own accord, unstirred by the insect-choked air. Their colours puncture the gloom; havens of cheeriness in a dismal woodland. Human-featured beetles flit along the banks of sluggish, muddy rivers. Reeds rattle, whispering the names of the poxes inflicted upon the worlds of mortals by Great Nurgle or lamenting those that have died from the caress of their creator.

Jutting from amidst this primordial mire is Nurgle's manse. Decrepit and ancient, yet eternally strong at its foundations, the mansion is an eclectic structure of rotted timbers and broken walls, overgrown with crawling poison ivy and thick mosses. Cracked windows and crumbling stone compete with verdigris-coated bronze, rusted ironwork and lichen-covered cornices to outdo each other with their corrupted charm. Within these tumbling walls, Nurgle toils. Beneath mildewed and sagging beams, the great god works for eternity at a rusted cauldron, a receptacle vast enough to contain all the oceans of all the worlds.

Chuckling and murmuring to himself, Nurgle labours to create contagion and pestilence, the most sublime and unfettered forms of life. With every stir of Nurgle's maggot-ridden ladle, a dozen fresh diseases flourish and are scattered through the stars. From time to time, Nurgle reaches down with a clawed hand to scoop a portion of the ghastly mixture into his cavernous mouth, tasting the fruits of his labour. With each passing day, he comes closer to brewing his perfect disease, a spiritual plague that will spread across the extent of the universe and see all living things gathered unto his rotting embrace.

Dwarfed by their mighty lord, a host of Plaguebearers are gathered about Nurgle. Each chants sonorously, keeping count of the diseases created, the mischievous Nurglings that have hatched, and the souls claimed by the Lord of Decay's putrid blessings. This hum drowns out the creaking of the rotten floor and the scrape of the ladle on the cauldron, so eternal in its monotony that to hear it is to invite madness.

When Nurgle's diseases wax strong in the mortal realm, his garden blooms with death's heads and fresh filth, encroaching upon the lands of the other Chaos Gods. War follows, as Nurgle's adversaries fight back and the Plaguebearers take up arms to defend the morbid forest. From such war springs more of the richness of life and death, of triumph over adversity. Though Nurgle's realm will eventually recede again, it will have fed deeply on the fallen, and will lie in gestate peace until it is ready to swell throughout time and space once more.

There is a house of decay at the centre of Nurgle's Garden. Its wracked and twisted structure creaks and groans under the influence of baleful toxic winds. Shutters cling just barely to window frames only half filled with broken panes of filth covered glass. Sewage drains spill forth beetles, maggots, and twisted centipedes with only tongues for their bodies and human fingers for legs. Paint continually cracks and peels away from the wood beneath, yet the house never loses it grey-green hue. Along the roof, hundreds of chimneys bellow out dark clouds that, upon close inspection, are composed of millions of floating, buzzing flies.

All around this house, trees made of bone bear fruit that rots even as it swells. The leafless boughs of these ancient trees provide shelter for daemonic birds that sing the funeral dirges of any unwelcome visitor. It is a house of pestilence, rot, and death. This is Nurgle's Mansion, also called the Mansion of the Plague Lord, and that means that it is also a place of hope and renewal. There can be no explanation for the strength that keeps this structure from collapse save that it is the dwelling place of the Lord of All, whose boundless energy, sense of eternal purpose, and limitless joy for his work finds perfect peace with the inevitability of decay.

Nurgle himself often sits in a massive chair just to the side of the mansion's front door. From there he entreats visitors, both summoned and unexpected, to approach, share tales and questionable libations, and explore the countless rooms within. Inside the vast structure, a guest could easily become lost. Rotten floorboards send many to a doom of slow consumption by the carrion feeders that dwell in the lower levels. Grand staircases decorated with moth-eaten rugs beckon to wandering souls, leading them to chambers where Daemons are glad to receive new, fresh flesh.

Should the guest bypass these rooms and continue upward, they might find their way to the attic, where Nurgle keeps samples of his multitudinous works of decay, catalogued and counted over and over again by attendant Plaguebearers. In this attic are jars containing the viscera of plague victims from across time and space. Souls are trapped within apparently simple glass containers, left to slowly dim and fade as maladies of the spirit waste them to the bone.

If the visitor walked past the stairs and pushed deeper into the mansion, they might stumble upon the kitchens and larders of the Plague Lord's home. Every foul ingredient, every pestilent component imaginable (and some that defy sanity) rests on shelves here, neatly labelled and ready to be combined in the great cauldron. A wise guest moves on quickly from here, knowing that to linger is to become flavouring for the noxious stew, for this cauldron is among Nurgle's prized possessions and he likes to keep it full. It is in this great black crucible that the Lord of All brews the many plagues he pours into the mortal realm. Nurgle is a creative being, and he will take inspiration for experimentation where he finds it. Seldom can he resist the temptation to add nearby visitors to his virulent concoctions.

In reality, Nurgle is unlike the other Ruinous Powers in many ways, including how he views his domain within the Realm of Chaos. Khorne, for instance, rarely leaves his throne, barking orders to his generals from atop a mound of skulls. Slaanesh watches the happenings of his kingdom from within his Palace of Pleasure or wanders the universe seeking to tempt mortals into giving up their souls to satisfy his hunger. Tzeentch seems to not care much at all for the state of his warped and fractured lands, spending his time plotting and interfering with affairs in realms beyond his own.

Nurgle, on the other hand, cherishes the beauty and surprises of his garden. He routinely takes strolls down its twisted paths, cavorting with his Daemons and stopping to observe as one of his diseases takes its toll on a wounded captive. Nurgle is in touch with his land and its many regions.

In his wanderings outside of the Mansion, he passes by some of his favourite places, many of which have existed since Nurgle first thought of them and are likely to be the models for the reborn universe that is to come. A moment's journey from the Mansion are the Death Beds, a place he visits more often than perhaps any other. It is a place that serves two purposes. Not only are wayward travellers and defeated invaders trapped here, stored in the deep pits and sucking muck of this place awaiting some future foul use, or their eventual demise, but it is here that Nurgle can indulge in one of his greatest forms of entertainment.

The Plague Lord loves to hear stories of the realms beyond his own. They inspire him to create new pestilences that are well-suited to other lands, and in the Death Beds he has countless potential storytellers. Sometimes he offers these unfortunates the chance to improve their position by spitting the worms from their mouths and sharing tales of their worlds with him. Those who amuse him sufficiently are plucked from the muck and removed to the Mansion. There they have the great honour of becoming vessels for Nurgle's newest plagues. Once they are properly infected, Grandfather Nurgle smiles, gives them one last tender, gut-churning embrace, and sends them back into the lands their stories described.

After visiting the Death Beds, Nurgle often makes the Poxyards the next stop on his stroll. It is here that he tests the efficacy of his contagions of the flesh and spirit. Each malady requires a different set of trials to gauge its ability to achieve the Plague Lord's desires. This means that the physical form of the Poxyards changes to suit the task.

For a test of the spirit, this region of the garden may be filled with crystal clear lakes. A dehydrated test subject may see these lakes and, believing salvation is at hand, drink deeply of the cool waters. Suddenly the water will turn to pus, tormenting the sick and weakened soul. For a test of a skin-eating disease, the Poxyards may be filled with Clawthrust Brambles. Infected captives can be sent running into the Daemon-plants, chased by Beasts of Nurgle. If the captives scream as they pass through the razor-edged branches of the plants, then Nurgle knows that the poor wretches can still feel pain and his affliction needs refinement. No matter the incarnation of the Poxyards, this corner of the garden always gives Nurgle new insights, and therefore he spends a great deal of time there.

There are other places such as these - places that are always buzzing with activity and joy. The Morabusium where the most precious and toxic herbs take root, the Dunglash Arboretum where refined excrement hangs from trees like putrid, reeking vines, and many others. All of these regions provide Nurgle with the ingredients and insights he needs to further his work at the cauldron when he returns to the Mansion after one of his invigorating jaunts.

In addition to the mainstay regions of the Land of the Plaguelord, there are many others that enjoy a less permanent existence, coming and going with the ascendancy and passing of one of Nurgle's many plagues. Some of these likely only exist in the nightmare visions and untrustworthy hallucinations of disease-ravaged minds. Still, the Garden of Nurgle is near-infinite, and it is not so unbelievable that a recipient of one of Nurgle's great gifts might be blessed with a fleeting glimpse of the Plague Lord's realm. With their last dying breaths, some mortals gasp and choke out words saying that they hear faint bells tolling. Perhaps they refer to the blossoms that grow in the Deathbell Lily Fields. When a mortal dies as the result of one of Nurgle's many diseases, one of these pallid flowers opens up and emits a tinny chime to mark the success of Nurgle's handiwork. The ringing is incessant.

The Hanging Gardens of Thush'Bolg are a sight to be seen. This remote slice of Nurgle's realm was given to the Great Unclean One Thush'Bolg as acknowledgement of his use of a choking plague to wipe out an Ork infestation on Hurax, a planet that Nurgle coveted. To commemorate his victory and to demonstrate constant thanks to his lord for his reward, Thush'Bolg used his own intestines to hang every single Ork from the colony in the trees of his domain. There they dangle and rot, slowly dying but never quite finding release.

Plaguebearers toss organs from the bodies of disease victims into sorting pools, making it easier for them to count the numbers that have died from each ailment. Beasts of Nurgle frolic in fields where planted spines yield crops of dementia-inducing foodstuffs. Nurglings cackle with glee as they roll down hillsides that form spontaneously when Great Unclean Ones vomit up regiments they consumed thousands of standard years ago. The Land of the Plaguelord is a wondrous place filled with vitality, mirth, and experiences beyond mortal comprehension. It is a playground for the minions of the Lord of Decay, a laboratory for his work, and a comforting home for a god that knows his realm is the shape of things to come.

In the foliage, she saw a Floral Marine standing near the swamps. It put a hand through a current of liquid Warp energy, seeing it dance between the clawed fingers that it possessed, twisting and molding it to its liking like fabric of malleable energy, before the marine allowed it to coil around its arm. Opening its palm, plant matter formed and wove together, taking the shape of a bolter composed of moss, wood, and vines.

This only soured Mandy's mood even more.

"How can I harness its power when it won't let me?" Mandy questioned with a frown, "He seems to manipulate it easily."

"It won't let you because you're trying to wrangle it." The Mystic of Nurgle replied, pointing his staff at the Garden, "The power must be allowed to flow. You must let it come to you, let it be one with you. You must let your doubts and weaknesses come, so that it came give you the resilience to weather through your weaknesses."

"I have no weaknesses." Mandy growled at the Mystic, giving a glare that was intensified by her radiant red eyes.

Despite a flinch, the Mystic remained unmoved, "Yes, you do. Despite your stubborn determination, you refuse to allow other emotions into your soul. You cannot purge weakness; you must overcome it. Mortarion believed the same as you but refused to adapt. If you wish for Nurgle's favor, you must allow yourself to admit your weakness."

"I am not weak!" Mandy yelled, enraged at the thought of her being seen as weak.

"Just because you have weakness does not mean you yourself are weak." The Mystic clarified, "It merely means you have a challenge to overcome and not one you can merely defeat with power alone. You must overcome that weakness by strength of the soul, not by strength of body or mind."

The Queen blinked before the Nurglite continued, "You are vulnerable. That does not mean you are weak. To make yourself invulnerable, you must overcome that which leaves you vulnerable."

A thoughtful expression came over her face as she looked down, thinking about what her weakness could possibly be. She couldn't possibly have any weaknesses, she was immortal, possessed power she could never dream, possessed the intellect and knowledge to manipulate the Imperium of Man, and was practically perfect. She became a feared slayer in the Underhives, she became an Imperial Noble and slowly built up her power in more than 15 years, she absorbed the knowledge of several Chaotic tomes, she gained Tzeentch's favor, she...

Then it hit her.

She was unimaginably arrogant. That was her weakness. That is what made her vulnerable.

The Mystic seemed to notice her realization, "You now know your weakness, now you admit it to yourself. And that will give you the power of Nurgle."

Mandy breathed a humiliated sigh, mentally admitting that she was arrogant. The moment she did, she felt the power of the Garden flow through her veins.

With but the gesture of her hand, the swamp bristled before the waters parted. Suddenly, a mass of vines and brambles slithered from under the water, weaving together as moss and flowers grew over and bloomed. The mass was then shaped into a tree-like form, blossoming jagged leaves, hybrids of plant matter and insects birthing from clumps of unfurling flowers, spores and pollen bloomed as the tree became a monument of both decay and renewal.

"It's... it's beautiful..." Mandy finally let her guard down slightly, seeing the beauty of the tree before her.

"Indeed, it is." The Mystic replied, pleased that the Queen now understood Nurgle's truth.

There was a pain in her arm, feeling something cutting into her flesh before she turned her arm to see the Mark of Nurgle slowly forming next to the Mark of Tzeentch in radiant emerald.

Mandy grinned, now halfway there from gaining the favor of the Four.

Realm of Brass and Blood

Mandy grits her teeth as she backflipped away from the strike that craved a miniature ravine where she was standing just a second ago. She was clad in a cobbled together armor from the various Khornate champions that she had slaughtered, armed with a Hellblade that she took from a Bloodletter that she beheaded with her hands.

Despite this, they proved little against the threat she currently faced. Before her was the monstrous form of Kharn the Betrayer, Gorechild in hand and coated in a blood and intestines. And screaming out as he charged at her with reckless abandon.

"Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn!"

Yes, because that wasn't annoying the first five thousand times he's screamed that at her. But regardless, the Betrayer proved that he was the Avatar of Khorne for the reason that he killed her several hundred times, only for her to regenerate due to her immortality.

Apparently, what Abaddon had said about him was true.

"Only a fool takes Khârn for a mindless brute or a rabid dog. Under that blood-soaked helm lurks an intelligence and cunning that makes him a masterful killer. Trust me when I say that there is a dark purpose to his madness."

No matter her moves, no matter what tactic or strategy she tried, Kharn would always adapt and drive her back, nearly breaking her focus when she felt fearful for the first time she felt in years. Even with her immortality, Mandy began believing that she wouldn't be able to defeat the Betrayer due to her quickly finding out that he was blessed with being immune to the effects of sorcery and that he would be revived near instantly if he was ever killed.

She was broken out of her thoughts when Kharn swung Gorechild at her that she dodged, not nearly fast enough that the buzzing teeth of the chainaxe cut her torso open with her guts spilling out before they were sucked back to her insides as the wound sealed near instantly, the force sending her to the ground. The taste of blood licked through her tongue as Mandy slowly retched himself from the ground, feeling hot bloodstained sand on her hands as she forced herself to stand despite feeling the bones in her legs cracking and healing. Her eyes open after wiping the bloodstained sand off her face, noting that Gorechild was not currently cleaving her in twain.

Mandy blinked when she saw that Kharn was now still, resting his hands on Gorechild with the pommel resting in the red sand. There she was beholden to the sight of the Realm of Brass and Blood.

Though the Daemon-filled battlefields of the Blood God's Domain, Khorne's home in the Realm of Chaos, are many, and each is vast beyond reckoning, there is more to this blasted land than just blood-soaked plains populated with warring Daemons. Violence and despair are constant travelling companions for any unfortunate soul cursed to briefly wander there.

Each foreboding hellscape leads to another, more grim than the last. At the heart of it all, Khorne watches from its Skull Throne, surveying its lands and pitting its forces against any convenient foe, be they fellow Daemons or foolhardy invaders who seek to wage a doomed war on the Lord of Battle. The Blood God's Domain is a realm unlike any other. Storms rage perpetually across crimson skies, sending gale-force blasts seemingly composed of pure rage whipping across the plains and mountains. These angry winds tear into the land itself and rip up great chunks of stone and blood-drenched earth, tossing them violently back down hundreds of leagues away in explosions of raw destruction.

The land, for its part, fights back against the brutal assault of the heavens. Earthquakes send gouts of molten brass skyward, burning up the storm clouds, temporarily ending their rage until the winds re-gather to begin their assaults anew. New mountains erupt from flat land in an instant, some thrusting into the sky like gigantic living swords, others acting as shields against the advance of the storms. Rivers of boiling blood criss-cross the hellish landscape, dividing the realm into territories over which rival Bloodthirsters wage war. The blood-flows are not content to allow the conquered lands to rest idle. From deep below the ground, new rivers strike through the surface, splitting the lands as easily as an axe opens the bloated gut of a lazy bureaucrat.

Each crimson flow sucks down all that once occupied the space, including any daemonic legions that might have been marching there. As with its war against the sky, the land retaliates, pushing the banks of the rivers to close in upon themselves. The brass-spewing volcanoes send liquid metal into the rivers, evaporating the blood within and sealing the wounds with burning fury.

Each piece of the realm of battle constantly fights to obliterate the others. Each acts like a living servant of Khorne, wanting to prove to the master of the land that it is the most worthy of the god's rewards.

A visitor to this nightmare realm would surely be driven mad, knowing that every rock, every breeze, and every drop of what should be water is an enemy, looking to kill him with just as much purpose, desire, and violence as the multitudinous Daemons of the Blood God inhabiting the land. To witness the carnage of the realm of Khorne is to know that conflict is a living, breathing thing and not just a curse that troubles the worlds of men, machines, and aliens. It is to know an eternal truth and, thus, to know despair.

At the outermost edge of the Blood God's Domain there lies a ring of volcanoes that scholars of the profane have come to call "Khorne's Rage." Reaching hundreds of kilometres into the air, they belch their thick black smoke and molten brass skyward, creating an impenetrable border that can neither be seen through nor navigated.

Darkness and ash hang there, lit ominously from beneath by gouts of flame that incinerate the loose debris along the sides of the volcanoes. Within the ash clouds, blood storms roil. Red lightning dances across the clouds as thunder cracks and rolls, like the snap of a Bloodthirster's whip followed by the sound of the hooves of a thousand charging Juggernauts.

These peaks stand as a bastion against invaders, their toxic ash and scorching brass flows enough to deter all but the most determined of forces. Those who are arrogant, or foolish, enough to make the attempt to cross the torturous border are met with more than barriers of heat and jagged rock. The very rock and brass of Khorne's Rage itself rises up to crush the attackers. Pieces of the rock break away from the side of the mountains, molten brass flowing into them in a hellish semblance of life blood. Daemons of stone and liquid metal take form, born of rage and defiance.

With mindless fury and unadulterated violence, they bludgeon and scorch their foes. Once their grim task is complete, they fall back into lifeless piles, waiting for the call to reform and defend the borders of their master's realm.

At the base of the volcanoes are the forges of the lesser furnace Daemons. In these sweltering workshops, weapons of war are crafted. All manner of axes, swords, hammers, and armour are created to supply the Blood God's eternal wars. Here, too, the components of Khorne's Daemon Engines are made.

Assembly of these huge constructs of war is conducted elsewhere, but the cogs, blades, housings, and armaments all have their beginning here, at the foot of Khorne's Rage. It is a dangerous place to reside, even by the standards of the rest of the realm. At any moment a volcano could erupt, flooding the forge with molten brass. It is of no concern to Khorne if a few Daemons are incinerated in such mishaps; others rise from the Blood Pits to take their place, and the forges continue.

Despite the risks, the furnace Daemons are able to take advantage of the dangers of Khorne's Rage. Across the plains of battle, it is almost exclusively Khorne's own minions that do battle and perish. At the fringes of the realm, however, other warriors die agonising, terrible, bloody deaths.

Using tools of fiendish design and rites that even the most depraved Chaos Sorcerers would dare not undertake, the masters of the hell-forges enslave the souls of those mortals who would dare invade the Blood God's realm and fuse them with the anvils of Khorne. The tormented screams of those thus eternally imprisoned blend with the ringing and clanging of each falling hammer that strikes the forge. When white-hot metal is placed on the anvil and pounded into form, the bound soul feels the scorching heat.

Thus, as each new weapon or piece of armour is crafted in the Daemon Forges, it is born to the sounds of Khorne's enemies suffering the god's everlasting wrath.

Warp energy, the raw stuff of Chaos, constantly swirls across the realms of all of the greater Chaos Gods. Its currents and eddies shift and meander seemingly at random, causing mutation within the very land itself and everyone and everything they touch. In most cases, this power does not linger in any one place for long.

There are, however, locations throughout the Blood God's treacherous domain where the power of the Warp collects and stirs. When this happens, great craters are often gouged into the blasted plains. None can say if it takes moments or millennia for these pits to form, for time is meaningless within the Realm of Chaos.

Eventually, the Warp Storms break apart, sometimes seeping into the very pits they created. When this happens, Khorne commands his minions to intensify their efforts to harvest blood from the mortal world, using the most violent, destructive, and devastating methods they can possibly bring to bear. The souls that perish in such a campaign give their blood to a special, dark cause. Their crimson essence is collected in the pit, where it is mixed with molten brass and a measure of Khorne's own murderous bile. The resultant lake is a new Blood Pit.

It is from the Blood Pits that new Daemons of Khorne arise. Bloodletters, furnace Daemons, and many lesser fiends steadily emerge from the Warp-and-bile-infused blood, ready to do their master's bidding. The soldiers that vomit forth from that pit will be charged from the day of their creation until the day they fail their master in combat with claiming more blood to refill their pit. Eventually a pit goes dry, but without fail, soon after it does a new storm begins to brew, restarting the cycle of bloodshed.

Dividing one region of Khorne's realm from another like jagged crimson scars on the scorched land are the rivers of blood. These kilometres-wide flows are filled with the blood of those who have fallen in service to Khorne, be they victims or followers. Nearly all blood that is shed on the god's behalf on the mortal plane finds its way to these sanguine canals. The blood itself is hot to the point of boiling.

Steam made of vaporised blood hangs in the air all along the length of the rivers, creating a palpable red cast to the regions through which they run. Gigantic bubbles rise to the surface, carrying with them occasional remains of something that was unfortunate enough to have fallen into the river.

As the bubbles burst, globules of steaming, hot blood launch hundreds of feet into the air, coming back to the ground and landing on the shores in splatter patterns that often resemble the spray of an opened artery.

Thousands of blood rivers cut through the land and end up emptying over a bleak precipice kilometres high, plunging downward in waterfalls of gore. The lake that forms at the base of the wall is larger than any ocean in the mortal realm and populated with creatures that cannot be.

Leviathans of brass and bone swim through the lake, devouring all as they pass. Soaring above the lake, Bloodthirsters fight with dragons of pure, solid blood. Those that stray too close to the surface of the lake risk being snatched out of the air by the very lake itself, so hungry is it for carnage. Rising waves on the surface take the shape of warriors and do battle, crashing violently into each other and falling back to the surface in a rain of scattered blood.

Then, laid before them was the Brass Citadel.

On the far shore of the Lake of Slaughter, the ground is littered with skulls, so many, in fact, that whatever foundation may lie beneath them cannot be touched. For kilometres these skulls stretch away from the shore, and in the distance there rises a great black wall. This is the outer wall of Khorne's Brass Citadel.

Upon the wall stand guardian Daemons, with eyes as sharp as their fangs and swords. They watch for any intruder, ready to defend their master to the last. Within the walls there are thousands of Flesh Hounds patrolling the skull-yard, sniffing out the blood scent of any who would dare attempt incursion.

In the skies, flying between the outer walls and the inner keep, elite Bloodthirsters listen for sounds of invasion on the wind. It is rare that any force musters the strength to assault the Brass Fortress, its guardians deterring all but the most foolish or daring of Khorne's rivals from even trying.

A broad and muscular humanoid who stands hundreds of Terran feet tall. He has the face of a savage, snarling dog, though his twisted features are all but hidden by a baroque helm decorated with the skulls of conqueror kings. Khorne's exaggerated physique is further distorted by heavy, overlapping plates of armour fashioned from brass and blackened iron. His every word is a growl of endless fury, and his roars of bloodlust echo across his realm.

Khorne broods from a throne of carved brass, atop a mountain of skulls. The macabre trophies are the fleshless heads of his champions, stacked alongside those of their defeated opponents. A hundred thousand species are represented, from Human heads beyond counting to Tyranid skulls the size of hive city hab-blocks. The ever-growing pile of bloodstained bone reflects the material victories of his followers, feeding Khorne's glory but never quenching his thirst for blood and death.

At Khorne's side rests a great two-handed sword, a legendary blade capable of laying waste to the substance of worlds with a single blow. This fell weapon is known by various names to the different intelligent species of the galaxy, including Woebringer, Warmaker, and the End of All Things.

She felt almost like an ant or a speck of dust before the Blood God, who stared upon her with his scarlet infernos of eyes, clenching his gnarled fists as he contemplates how Tzeentch believed that this whore would be their greatest champion save for the Dark Master. Mandy merely raised the Hellblade, who molten orange jagged iron blade ignited in crimson flames that burned the mists of blood around them.

In response, Kharn took the hilt of Gorechild as rested the chainaxe on his shoulder.

For a moment, all was still. The audience of Bloodthirsters, Bloodletters, World Eaters, and Chaos Cultists watched in silence, waiting for one to kill the other. The two were still as statues, waiting for the other to make a move.

Suddenly, the two vanished in a blur and charged at each other, sending the crimson sand in their way flying.

And both of them screaming out:

"Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn!"

Gorechild met Hellblade, flames blasting from the clashing from the two champions seemed to become a storm of slashes and dodges, taking damage but never falling from the force of their duel. Mandy roared out as she slashed the Hellblade across the helm covering Kharn's face, the heat melting through the composition before the welt was sealed by Khrone's power.

Kharn lashed out before she had a chance to react, nearly cleaving her in half as she jumped back but she was slugged across the face with the Betrayer's fist, nearly splintering her skull before she managed to remain standing. As her skull's fragments fused themselves back together, her mushed eyes reforming, and in that moment, all she saw was red.

A scream ripped from Mandy's throat as she threw the Hellblade at the raging Kharn who batted it away like an insect, only to see that she was gone before he turned to see her at his right, the sword poised to thrust into his neck. Kharn swerved around, managing to rip open her torso before she managed to thrust the Hellblade into his neck, letting a spray of blood spew out like a torrent of crimson.

The cut sealed as Kharn staggered back and stumbled to his knees when Mandy cut his tendons in his arms and legs, forcing him to essentially kneel to her. Instead of killing him, what she did then silenced the others with shock.

She merely pressed a finger to Kharn's armored forehead before a blue wave pulsed over his skull, recoiling like a flinch of shame. Suddenly, he felt a cold calmness flow over his soul, like a flame growing dimmer before growing cold enough to burn. Almost like a perpetual Tranquil Fury.

"What did you..." Kharn was voiceless as he felt the sudden calm overtake him, looking around to see her standing there, "What did you do?"

"I took away your insanity, Kharn." Mandy then turned to Khorne and gave a glare, declaring, "Because a warrior does not merely require rage. A warrior must fight with calm of mind, not merely with rage."

Khorne did nothing, merely chuckling at this incest's audacity. Truely grateful, Kharn then bent a knee and bowed his head. Suddenly, all the World Eaters proceeded to bend a knee before her, laying down their weapons as a sign of respect and reverence.

Seeing this, the Blood God opened his gnarled fist, giving a snort of impressiveness. A burning sensation came to her arm again, ripped the armlet off her to reveal the Mark of Khorne searing onto her flesh in a bright crimson. Mandy grinned as she saw the mark on her arm.

Three down, one to go.

Andrasa

Mandy let two bio-servitors pat her face with makeup, dressed in a black sleeved and backless dress wreathed in silver aristocratic finery, her legs covered in black leggings and silver heels. She was currently sitting in a special carriage with black leather gold trimmed seats and purple interiors. Alongside her were her son and daughter.

Grim Jr. was a tall boy at this point, now 19 with his brown spiky hair shortened to barely half an inch, clothed in a black outfit made of shiny leather with white trim that covered nearly his entire body, almost resembling a coat, his legs covered by knee high black boots, and the empty socket where his right eye used to be hidden by a black eyepatch.*

Minnie was now a young woman, 18 with her blonde hair at her shoulders with the same black hairband as her mother's. She was dressed in a black dress adorned in silver finery, resembling more of an aristocratic dress than her mother's more sleek design, red leggings, and black heels. She scratched the back of her head, nervous as she had never been in a dress before.

"Mom-" Junior started with a finger raised.

"Grim." Mandy glared at him, causing him to flinch.

Junior exhaled, correcting himself as he lowered his finger, "Mother, what are we doing here?"

"The Prince of Pleasure offered me a way to both gain his favor and the alliance of his most powerful cultists." Mandy explained to her son and daughter, "He felt that venturing to the Silver Palace was too light of a challenge for me." She allowed herself to smugly smirk for a moment, "He was right of course. So, he made a bargain with me."

"I see that her arrogance hasn't diminished." Minnie whispered to her brother, who scoffed only for both of them to be silenced by their mother's glare.

"I heard that." Mandy's glare had only recently gained severe potency, "Regardless, the Court of Flesh is one of the strongest Slaaneshi cult in existence. Their alliance would be invaluable to us."

"How? I understand influence is a thing but other than that, I think Slaaneshis aren't that special." Minnie said with a confused expression.

"I don't think you really know Slaaneshis, Minnie." Grim Junior explained to his confused little sister, "Their pursuit of pleasure and perfection makes them insanely dangerous and cunning. That and they have been known to specialize is modification."

The daughter looked surprised at this, thinking about their pursuit of perfection.

"Hesitation is weakness, Minnie. And what the few things I may tolerate in this life, the one thing I will not stand for is weakness."

Minnie clenched her fist, remembering that day all those years ago. But she kept a mask of indifference up so that her mother wouldn't see it as a sign of weakness.

Soon the carriage stops, signaling their arrival of the Court's palace. The doors opened to reveal the landscape of the planet, a grey cloud covered sky that seemed to pan forever, a pink and purple landscape that seemed to be both vibrant but lifeless before they came to a space that seemed to be a moot filled with creatures rather than water.

Not least amongst these were their disturbing facial features, for some sported tiny, sucking, leech-like mouths, others had small, slit-like and entirely black eyes, while some were missing their nose, with just a pair of hissing nostrils visible... all were pallid of colour, their skin ranging from a sickly pinkish-grey to a translucent albino white, their veins just barely visible beneath the skin, crackling bones that popped joints as they crawled through thick viscous sludge black as night.

After passing the paired statues resembling halberd wielding guards, many distant and massive parts of the landscape dispersed which then clustered together in a large volume becoming liquescent and reshaped. As liquid nanometal moves and spreads, it slithers and congeals to random and viscous shapes like a godless fungus or ooze, gathering at the epicenter of the ferrous lathered heath and fusing into a structure in the familiarity of a citadel. A shrill-like crackling, bending, stressing, warping, creasing. The sounds play havoc and childlike sadism on her eardrums as she nearly falls to his wearying knees and, without a dust speck of composure, yells in an unrefined and untaught voice to stop.

Her arrival to their courtyard was a grand one as their slaves lowered the jagged bridge, letting her cross after a red and gold trimmed carpet rolled out by their crustacean-like servitors that skittered away back to the dark corners where they rested in, their purple eyes glowing in the dark, clattering on twenty arachnid legs with a single pincher and a clawed prehensile paw, hunchbacked and sturdy.

The Garthim skittered to the great gates of the palace, gently closing their pinchers around the lion decorations before slowly pulling to open the gates. Just as they fully opened the gates, a man stepped out in the open.

The man was a tall man with a black uniform with plates and dozens of medals, a purple cape, a greatsword acting as a cane almost. He was posed and professional, a helm of horns that only allowed his vibrant eyes through the visor. He greeted her with his armor covered hand that she took, her son and daughter merely standing in silence.

"Greetings, Queen of the Damned." The General greeted before he noticed her son and daughter, "And I see you brought your son and daughter."

"Consider it a learning experience for them." The Queen replied as she beckoned for them to follow her.

Before they entered the palace, the General insisted that she wore a mask in the presence of the Court as it was the strict tradition in the cult. To serve Slaanesh was about the finest in life, not to devolve into hedonistic barbarians like others but to work on the beauty and art, whether it be in both paint and in flesh. Her son was given a skull mask and her daughter was given a white expressionless mask.

Her mask was golden and etched in gems around the eyes and mouth, in sharp lines on the contours of the cheekbones, the expression placid, the forehead having almost microscopic runes engraved in layers upon layers, the inner smooth and mirror-like in its splendor almost like golden flesh. Mandy merely placed it on her face, feeling it somehow remain on her head despite having no straps or hooks.

The group moved through opulent halls with architectural designs resembling 18th century depictions and reflecting the early Rococo artistic style popular during the era, filled with art pieces, decorations, paintings, statues, and paintings. Garthim were tentatively cleaning and guarding the corridors, posed as statues with not oven their radiant purple eyes following them. After coming to an open space within a ballroom, there were the other members of the Court, gathered in secret.

The Count was a thin and well-groomed man with an almost checkered mask of black and stark white, split vertically and having reddened eyes. He was dressed as a Count would be but colored in a dark royal purple. Slacks over his lower half, oddly, his legs seemed more lanky and insectile-like than, bending backwards but the feet were hidden by leather shoes. His upper half was covered by a dress shirt that placidly contrasted with the black vest and red bolo tie, all under a bright purple jacket.

The Chamberlain was a sly man, almost hunchbacked, with his face hidden behind a silver comedy mask and his white combed back hair visible. He was draped in a red cloak with several runes weaved into the fabric over a black shirt, dark dress pants, and leather boots. A pompous fur collar around his neck, a necklace with an eight-pointed star pendant with a ruby resting in the center, and several bird skulls hanging around his waist.

The Baroness was a young woman in her twenties with luscious and perfectly kept black hair tied in topknot with twin and bangs framing her face, white skin that was as flawless as a porcelain doll's, her white mask having a lascivious expression and decorated in golden floral scroll patterns, dressed in a formfitting Victorian era dress, black as night and wreathed in aristocratic finery with a white collar and cuffs, black stilettos and leggings, and a necklace with a Mark of Slaanesh pendant.

The Ritual-Master was of an interesting sight; having a skull-like mask with the horns of a ram akin to the helm of a Master of Possession, a formfitting leather outfit under black robes with purple interiors, a chain belt holding parchment lined with chaotic text and tomes of forgotten lore, black pants and knee high leather boots with multiple bootstraps, and a necklace with a Mark of Slaanesh pendant.

The Scroll Keeper seemed to be the oldest, what with his white but well-kept hair, his face covered in a white beaked mask with three or two and a half lenses sitting along the beak that hid his wise and sagely eyes. He was adorned in purple and golden clothing that reminded Mandy of Louis XIV or Louis XVI, an old but well-kept bag filled with rolls of parchment hanging from his shoulder, his lower half covered in turquoise pants and indigo shoes.

The Doctor had cleaned back hair, but his face was covered by a plague-doctor's mask wearing a black coat with a silver emblem resembling a snarling cobra on the right breast, black pants, and tall black boots. Eschewed of finery, the Doctor merely had a belt with a smaller version of Bile's Xyclos Needler, several vials of various colors and compositions, and a necklace with a Mark of Slaanesh pendant.

The Ornamentalist was one that most definitely caught her eye. He was a young man with chalk white skin that resembled marble, shoulder length hair colored in various shades of violets, pinks, indigo, and purples, his dark purple and gold trimmed mask resembling both a comedy mask with a wide red smile, his clothes of rich fabrics so expressively decorated and dripping with jewels. Resembling almost like a clown, having a velvet long greatcoat that reached his knees with black furred collar and cuffs over a violet gold- trimmed tunic with a black vest and a silver frilled cravat that had gold accents and an opal pendant, black leather pants and knee-high leather boots.

The Gourmand was a rotund old man with long grey hair and a long grey beard, hiding his face behind a marble mask possessing only a face-splitting grin, wearing a grey decorated greatcoat that barely hid his massive paunch with a black furred collar and cuffs, grey pants with knee high white boots possessing gold trims. On his head was a black crown with black horns, and a necklace with the Mark of Slaanesh and an amethyst pendent.

The Collector had a black mask with various eye-like markings, his robes covered in all kinds of ornaments and items that were placed in a way that did not make him look tacky or ridiculous but was designed in a way that made it difficult to determine where one part started and another ended. The only discernable things were his mask, ebony necklace with a purple Star of Chaos, and gloves composed of glittering diamonds.

The Slave Master was accompanied by his slaves, dregs, and thralls bound in silvery ornamental chains connected to their necks and wrists. His face was concealed by a mask with no eyeholes or mouth except for the spikes that covered every surface, covered in a formfitting bodysuit of leather with several internal hooks dug into his skin, chains wrapped around his right arm in a parody of the Black Templar's traditions, the lower half covered by long cloths covering the legs, black leather boots reaching the thighs with multiple bootstraps, and a chain belt with the Mark of Slaanesh as a buckle.

The Queen and her children bowed their heads to the court as a sign of respect, with the members bowing slightly in return. Then the Count snapped his fingers. A second later, several Garthim skittered in with a decorated refectory table before setting it down with several others then coming in and placing down opulent and heavily decorated thrones and then placing down the lidded trays of the lavish feast for the Court and their guests.

They said down as another Garthim poured them an amber colored wine made from the distilled intestinal fluids of several extinct alien species into ornamental silver goblets decorated with rubies. The Count raised his cup for a toast as did the others as he said, "To the Prince of Pleasure!"

"TO THE PRINCE OF PLEASURE!" The Court and their guest said in unison as they lowered their cups.

The Court then removed their masks to feast, revealing their faces to Mandy: The Count had a crooked nose with black void-like eyes, a Glasgow smile that revealed pearly white teeth and a worm-like tongue. The Chamberlain was an older man with sparkling eyes and a rather sincere smile. The Ritual Master's face was rather a labyrinth of scars and ritual symbols, revealing his hollow white eyes and greying hair that was flatted from the helm's use. The Doctor had a silver facemask with a silver tube going from the mouth to neck, a blue shaded monocle over his left eye, and his right eye the more normal out of the Court but seemed to possess a furious passion for his work.

The Baroness was impossibly ravishing, having black eyes like the Baron's but one's that enticed rather than struck fear, a perfectly shaped nose, black lips, and not even a blemish in sight. The Gourmand had the face of a jolly old man, grinning jovially. The Ornamentalist had a face that was both beautiful and disturbing, skin white as chalk or marble with black eyeliner and lipstick, black sclera with fuchsia irises. The Collector was somehow remarkably unremarkable as if the face was not his before it became one of an urbane gentleman as if shifting through faces. Finally, the Slave Master was a handsome man with remarkable vibrant eyes and short black hair, and a flawless face.

The Court of Flesh then dug into the lavish feast that their servants and the Gourmand provided, eating with manners and poise as to uphold their tenants of culture and civility.

It took Mandy almost every ounce of her willpower to throw her fork away and dig into the orgasmically delicious food like a barbarian like the rest of those Slaaneshi, but her iron willpower prevailed and retained her manners, for if she didn't, the Court would likely terminate their deal and she would not have a relation with one of the most powerful Slaaneshi cults and the favor of the Prince. Her son and daughter both seemed struggling not to give into their more animalistic urges.

The same could not be said about the Gourmand who was digging into the plate in front of him like a frenzied animal, letting it mare his face and mouth. It was then that he noticed the other members of the Court had stopped eating and were giving him looks of disapproval.

"Oh, um..." The Gourmand smiled sheepishly as he used his napkin to gentlemanly wipes the crumbles and stains from his mouth and beard, "Apologizes. The food is simply exquisite."

"Excuse the Gourmand, he has quite the ravenous appetite." The Ornamentalist replied, before putting a hand to his chin in thought, "Then again, it is in his name."

The Gourmand let out a jovial laugh as he cut a large piece from his meal before urbanely eating it, "Feasts from my former life as a Prime Minister were paltry compared to this."

"You used to be a Prime Minister?" Mandy raised an eyebrow as the Gourmand nodded before she asked, "If you do not mind me asking, how did you become part of the Court?"

"The Court extended an olive branch in my time of need. Their armies crushing an insignificant revolt." The Gourmand dismissed the people that would have killed him at that time, drinking from his amber wine from his silver ruby encrusted chalice, "After that, my time in the Court was nothing less than a dream come true! My life before the Court seemed merely like a dream."

"Interesting." Mandy said as she supped the amber wine herself, "Now as for our agreement."

"Ah, of course." The Count said as he finished his drink, continuing as a Garthim came up and poured more into his chalice from the golden pitcher, "Your crusade for power within the Realms of Chaos has certainly piqued our interest, but despite the power you accumulated, we believe that you must prove yourself to us if you wish to gain our allegiance."

Mandy frowned, but then again what did she expect? Slaaneshis were extremely hard to impress.

"How about we make a compromise?" The Queen said as she rested her head on her tented fingers. Those words definitely piquing the interest of the Court, before she continued, "Have your fleshshaper create a monster worthy of your status and have my son fight it in a sporting duel. Is that agreeable?"

A glare from her silenced Grim Jr before he could protest as the Court of Flesh pondered it, whispering amongst themselves and hemming before they slowly seemed to come to an agreement amongst them.

"Very well, but under one condition; Your son, Grim, must fight one of our best warriors, not just merely a mindless beast." The Baron tells the Architect, extending a hand for her to take.

"Terms accepted." Mandy replied as she took the Count's hand, as the rest of the Court toasted to an amusement that they had yet to grow bored off.

The Gourmand gave a jovial smile as he raised his chalice for her, "I say this to you, oh Queen of Damned, and I say it from my heart: there are those who would bargain away their souls just to live a little longer. I am not them. Life must be worth living. Life must be lovely and delicious and enviably sweet! Nothing has ever lived that will not die, so what matters is how we use our time. So! Let us toast to a new day!"

Mandy allows a smile to grace her face as she raised her chalice for a toast.

XXX

It was hours later when she arrived at the Ornamentalist's room at his request. The door opened and she found a bedroom of both 17th century British, French, and Russian design that would draw the jealousy of even the greatest of kings, a long bed with silk sheets and a heavy fur blanket, bedstands with books of alchemy, biology, and sorcery, several closets likely filled with different kinds of clothes, chemistry sets surprisingly, and a window that overlooked Andrasa.

before she saw him sitting on a marble stool in front of an Italian maple framed mirror with several cosmetics strewn on the desk.

The Ornamentalist's face without his makeup was a labyrinth of scars with his fuchsia irises and black sclera focused on their owner, gently washing his face with a black dampened cloth. The flesh seemed almost purple-ish, showing several veins with pores being scarce, circular cuts around his eyelids, and a Glasgow smile scar that stretched to his ears. He only acknowledged her through his voice as he opened a container that contained a special paste, "Miranda."

"Is that blood and diamond powder?" Mandy asked as she noted the light pink paste in its container, which the Ornamentalist took a handful of and applied to his cheek, padding it gently and spreading to the rest of his face until it covered the scars and purple flesh under a veil of bright pink.

"Yes. Drug-tainted blood. Part of my personal concoction to restore the sparkle of beauty." The Ornamentalist replied, not facing her as he applied a handheld device to his face that emitted a blue light that dried the paste almost immediately, leaving his skin to resemble porcelain or marble before he applied black eyeliner to his eyes and black lipstick to his lips. Popping his lips, he then stood up to face the Queen of the Damned after donning his mask.

"You asked to see me?" Mandy asked, crossing her arms impatiently.

"Yes, if your son dies, may I use his corpse for my art?" The Ornamentalist asked with all the innocence of a child asking what fornicating was, "See I believe that if he died it would such a waste of such healthy flesh and blood. Better to be sent for something good than rotting away in the mud."

Mandy barely had a reaction with the only one being her raising her eyebrow, "A strange request, but I will grant it if the Court's warrior can kill my son. But be warned, my son is not to be underestimated. I trained him since birth and have made him into a formidable warrior. I believe that he can handle whatever monster the Court throws at him."

"Ah, confident, are you?" The Ornamentalist smirked before he continued with a serious expression, "However, there is something else I wished to show you. Please come with me." He motioned for her to follow him, which she did with a raised eyebrow, wondering what it is that he could show her.

Soon, they came to a lower part of the castle, The Ornamentalist then inserted an extravagantly designed key into an equally extravagantly designed lock before turning it, seemingly warping instead of merely turning as mechanisms of intrinsic design. Suddenly, a refraction field formed around the platform they were standing on, causing Mandy to turn to see the pink shaded field around them in surprise before they began to descend down a dark and sleek tunnel.

After several moments, they reached the end of the tunnel, where in the dark recesses a massive hatch holding a resemblance to a massive gear with the words "Ad puritatem sanguinis" engraved in gold. With but the press of a button, the hatch opened, letting a blast of miasmic air sulfated with the metallic smell of blood, revealing what could only be described as a hive of tittering sycophants and monstrous aristocracy that crawled from the deepest pits of human darkness.

They were clothed in aristocratic clothing whose coloration had faded with time, white powdered wigs, and cobbling some semblance of sophistication, but this does little to hide the beasts beneath their skin deep veneer. Their skin was pale, their eyes black and bulbous like insects, their noses elongated to resemble mosquitoes, their mouth lipless and bloodstained. They attempted to strike out at the both of them, only for their fangs and limbs to break and burn against the refractory field, causing the rest to back off in disappointment before returning to their indulgences.

Of them, there were a few that the Queen took note off.

The Viscount was a quite the monstrous sight, a white powdered wig that deeply contrasted the dark grey undulating skin, bulbous compound eyes, and cheekless mouth of fangs and mandibles, dozens of eyes hidden under chitinous plates at the waist below a multitude of large bulbous undulating pustules, a bright red underside with twin sets of insect legs holding him up. His ruined aristocratic jacket covering his upper half with a bloodied fork possessing a wooden handle and a bloodied steak knife in both his bloodstained hands.

The Baron wasn't far behind, his wig seemingly fused to his scalp, had the lower body of a massive bloated flea with twin red eyes on the sides and a gaping mouth filled with sifting and slithering fangs, his arms whip and tendril-like as he used them to slash a slave in twain to the delight of the other Bloodsuckers, his body held up by four stubby insect legs.

Finally, the one that topped them all was the Countess. Her upper torso was mostly human, covering in the top of a grey dress that ended at her elbow with her wrists having spines jutting below bloodied hand, the lipless bloodied maw of teeth that consumed the lower half of her face hidden by a grey hand fan, her snow white hair wrapped in grey strips of cloth, and her eyes closed seemingly indefinitely. The lower half was where all semblance of humanity was abandoned; the lower half of a puffy dressed fused with the bloated abdomen lined with hives and legs. She turned to the Ornamentalist and the Queen, winking at them before continuing with her indulgences.

Mandy blinked in surprise at the hive of mutated aristocrats before turning to the Ornamentalist, "Why do you show me this? What will happen if my son fails his task?"

"Oh, perish the thought." The Ornamentalist waved her off before explaining, "The Crimson Court was a happy accident during our attempts to convert the aristocracy of the Ritual Master's origin place into a frenzied army."

"In those younger years my home was a hive of unbridled hedonism, a roiling apiary where instinct and impulse were indulged with wild abandon." The Ritual Master began as he walked from the darkness behind them, surprising both of them, "A bewitching predator slipped in amidst the swarm of tittering sycophants. Though outwardly urbane, I could sense in her a mocking thirst. Driven half-mad by cloying vulgarity, I plotted to rid myself of this lurking threat, in a grand display of sadistic sport. But as the moment of murder drew nigh, the gibbous moon revealed her inhuman desires in all their stultifying hideousness."

The Ornamentalist opened his mouth to ask how he got down here before he preemptively replied, "I followed you." He then cleared his throat and continued his speech.

Mercifully, the morbid encounter resolved itself in my favor, and I set to work pursuing degeneracy in its most decadent forms. The air pulsed with anticipation as I revealed the unnatural terroir of the house vintage. But my exultation was cut short, as the attending gentry turned upon themselves in an orgy of indescribable frenzy. A single drop of that forbidden tannin gifted me with a dizzying glimpse of the hibernating horror beneath the veil and in that moment, I understood the terrible truth of the world. I stood reborn, molted by newfound knowledge. My head throbbing to the growing whine of winged vermin come to drink the tainted blood... of the Darkest Dungeon."

Both were silent before they clapped at his speech, including the bloodsuckers, causing him to bow to them, chuckling, "Thank you. Thank you. I did such relentless practice."

With that, the Ornamentalist then flipped the switch that caused both the hatch to close and for the platform to rise again. As they ascended, the Queen broke the silence.

"So that's what is in the Dungeon?" Mandy asked with a raised eyebrow, "A swarm of mutated aristocrats that subsist on blood?" When the Ornamentalist nodded, she suddenly burst out into a full out laugh that was so uncivilized that the Court Artist and the Ritual Master flinched a little. After her laughing fit was finished, the Queen was still snickering as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I love Chaos."

As the platform came back to the entrance of the tunnel and each mechanism locked into place, the refractory field lowered, and the Ritual Master walked off as he took his book out and read to himself. The Ornamentalist then lean into her ear and whispered, "The purpose of this was simple. Even if you lose, I can give you the Crimson Court as compensation."

Mandy merely gave a smirk as she whispered back, "That's what you underestimate about me; I never lose."

XXX

It was time for the duel. The Court gathered to their chambers to compare which of their creations would be best against the son of the Queen. Meanwhile, Mandy met with her son so that they could talk. Minimandy was outside keeping guard so that they could be left in private as the mother discussed strategy to her son.

Inside, Grim Jr. was shaking with soft nerves, stopping when Mandy slapped him across the face. He put a hand on this throbbing cheek as he exhaled, "What do you want me to do, Mother?"

"Win." Mandy replied, before her eyes then turned blindingly red in warning, causing him to flinch, "However, if you cheat, I promise it will cost you an arm!"

Junior put his hands up and nodded with a terrified expression, causing her to calm down. Regardless of her manipulations, Mandy always had this odd sense of honor to her, meaning that she would never cheat despite the situation. Even if she needed to cheat to win, she never would. Something that always puzzled Grim and Minnie, knowing their mother was as ruthless as can be.

"Regardless, make me proud. Okay, Grim?" Mandy said in a surprisingly motherly tone as she puts her hands on his shoulders, surprising Junior who then sighs and nods.

XXX

Hours later...

The Court, Mandy, and Minnie gathered at a box room overlooking the coliseum built into the palace, where they would watch their creations fight to the death on their behalf. The coliseum was gothically designed to house thousands, occupied by the degenerates and bloodsuckers that they kept in the moats or below the palace, several feasting on the dead or living in anticipation for the fight ahead.

"Ah, I do love a fight. Mmmm..." The Chamberlain said with his usual whimper, putting his chalice to his lips for a drink.

"Does he do that whimper every time?" Minnie whispers to the Slave Master, who give an annoyed grunt.

"Indeed, and it get more annoying every time." The grunts of his slaves proved their annoyance as well.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The Count yelled out to those in the coliseum, "Thank you for coming to us for this wonderful evening! For it is time for the festivities to begin, starting with CARNIVORA!"

The crowd cheered as Grim entered the coliseum, trying to keep calm as the mask thankfully kept his face hidden from the view of others. With that out of the way, Junior extended a hand out before a white light shined in his palm. Suddenly, a scythe appeared in his hand, composed of bones with a skull and ribcage grafted onto the back of the staff made of vertebrae, covered in white burning runes.

However, jagged metal gates with an array of spikes with numerous dead and living impaled upon them began to open, parting from the middle and pushing outwards as they dragged dirt along the way. A growl escaped from the darkness as a thing slithered out of the pits, causing Junior to gasp.

It had pale white skin that was distorted to the point where it resembled a cloak with a line of stitches racing down from the collar, a gaunt figure with flowing black hair lined with thorns, its eyes were a featureless dark silver with streams of blood weeping from ducts, a black substance coated it bronze clawed arms, void of lips revealing ghastly bronze fangs. In place of legs were black thorny vines, larger than its body and ending with black, red eyed asp heads.

"Behold!" The Count dramatically announced to the audience, "THE DHAKA!"

The Dhaka roared out from each of its mouths, wanting to reduce whatever was in front of it to a bloody pulp. Junior steeled his nerves as he readied his scythe to strike it down with extreme prejudice.

Suddenly, as Grim Junior and the Dhaka circled each other, the clouds that perpetually covered the world began to thunder before rain slowly began to fall. Covers were deployed that shielded the audience but the arena was left uncovered for dramatic effect.

"Ah. 当春乃发生." The Ornamentalist spoke in Mandarin as he swirled his drink in its cup, getting the attention of the Baroness and the others.

"Hm, that sounds so cultured." The Baroness commented with a smile under her mask before asking, "What does it mean?"

"'Good rain knows the best time to fall.' Du Fu." The Ornamentalist translated to her as he kept his gaze firmly at the duel, raising a pair of binoculars on a stick to his eyes to get a better view as did the others.

Inhaling and exhaling, Grim Jr. seemed to get into a trance, his eyes becoming calm, his nerves hardened, and his stance clear. He gripped his scythe with both hands as he readied it to swing. The others watched with great interest believing that this will be a great spectacle for their eyes, the only sound being the pattering of the rain.

The Dhaka struck first, lashing out the asp heads but they bit down on empty air as Junior leaped into the air at the last second before diving down with his scythe ready to strike. The monster could barely react in time before the strike cleaved open its shoulder, spraying black inky blood from the wound as it cries out.

"Oh, my! That has to hurt!" The Gourmand let out a hearty laugh at the strike.

The wound sealed almost instantly as the Dhaka snarled and lashed out its thorny follicles at the boy, who dodged them only for a few lucky ones to strike him in the arm, before Junior slashed then off. Suddenly, the veins around his arm before they began to race to his face, slowing him down sightly as he coughed up blood. The Dhaka then uppercutted him, sending him flying before he landed and skidded on his heels.

"The Dhaka's follicles contain a slow acting poison. Your son will need to defeat the Dhaka in five minutes if he wants to get the cure." The General informed the Queen and her daughter, earning a laugh from the other members of the Court.

"How in that slow acting?" Minnie whispered to her mother.

"It's slow acting for a Slaaneshi." Mandy replied.

Grim grit his teeth while his body attempted to fight off the poison before the Dhaka lashed out with its bronze claws. He managed to dodge before he could be clawed, then cleaved off the left arm of the creature, causing it to shriek out not in pain but pleasure as it gripped its bleeding shoulder. Suddenly, several thorny tendrils ending in asp heads ripped from the stump and lashed at the reaper.

He cleaved several heads off the tendrils, only for several more heads to grow in their place, biting him with their sabre-like fangs even with him slashing them away with extreme prejudice before jumping back, feeling the poison spread through his body. Suddenly getting an idea, he gripped the scythe with both hands as the blade began to burn with white flames before he jumped and threw the scythe, spinning like a disc of destruction as it cleaved off the Dhaka's other arm, this time cauterizing the wound before it could regenerate and then slashing the tendrils off the left side.

"Clever!" The Slave Master laughed at Junior's cleverness.

Suddenly, the line of stitches pulled themselves apart, ripping apart to reveal a gaping maw filled with wriggling fangs and several writhing tentacles ending in horn-like stingers that lashed out at him. Grim managed to dodge the lashes before the maw jutted out to bite down, narrowly missing his torso, and was met with a slash in the ribs from Junior's scythe.

Before he could strike again, Junior vomited up a heap of blood that spilt through the eyeholes of his mask, making it seem like he was bleeding from his eyes and from his neck. A breath, and another before he managed to rise back to his feet. The poison was slowly creeping up to him, he had to finish this fight now or he'd be finished.

Junior got in a stance, readying his scythe to strike back at the Dhaka, who roared as it grew its arms back into massive scythe-like blades.

The atmosphere grew tense. The Court and his family watched as he struggled to stay on his feet. The Dhaka did not hesitate and charged headlong at the reaper who remained determining and standing despite the pain flowing through his body. The only sound being the pattering of the rain.

Grim swung...

...and the Dhaka's head was separated cleanly from its shoulders, flying into the air before landing on the ground with a squelch as it burst open akin to a rotten fruit.

All was silent... before cheers erupted as the Dhaka's body fell to the ground like a sack of rotten meat.

"OH, MARVELOUS! ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS!" The Count cried out as the Court continued to clap at the fantastic display before them. Mandy smirked under her mask as she clapped while Minimandy was cheery loudly at her brother's victory.

"That was fun!" Grim shouted out, waving to his family and the Court, the latter of whom starting clapping and cheering before he suddenly vomited blood again and fell to his knees.

"Oh, right! The antidote!" The Ornamentalist said as the Doctor rushed down to the arena, pushing past the others as he loaded a vial into his Needler. After getting to the prone form of Grim Junior, the Doctor then brushed the head from his neck marred with black veins and injected the antidote through the jugulars. Almost immediately, the black veins vanished, and Junior promptly let out a huge gape before coughing harshly.

The Doctor helped the coughing Junior out of the rain, where the other Court members helped him inside. Meanwhile, Mandy and the Count were talking as her son entered and sat down on a velvet leather chair.

"So, Count." The Queen inquired of the leader of the Court, "I believe my son has proven himself, no?"

"Indeed." The Count nodded as he raised his mask to allow himself a sip of wine, "Then that dictates that you have our support."

The Queen and the Count shook hands, sealing the deal between the two factions.

"Oh, it takes me back to my days in the circuses of Rakdos." The Ornamentalist laughed, getting a chuckle from all other Court members.

Mandy narrowed her eyes as the Ornamentalist supped the amber wine. He was lying. She knew he was lying.

Unseen to either Mandy or the Court, Grim Junior was glaring at her hatefully. He could have died and she would have just had him replaced by someone else like her other children that failed her.

He hates her for what she's done. He hates her for her manipulations. He hates her for using him like he was nothing but a pawn in her game. He hates her for using his sister like she was using him.

...And he hates himself for the fact that he didn't have the self-worth to fight back against her.

Sometime later...

Schnee Mansion

Atlas

Remnant

The opulence of the Schnee mansion was marred by the followers of the Queen of the Damned, going to war with the military of Atlas as they soon gained reinforcements from both the Happy Huntresses and several Huntsmen and Huntresses. Her forces managed to establish a stronghold on one part of floating city, where she and several others made their plans for the future.

...After they took some downtime of course.

Mandy awoke in a bed unclothed, wiping her face with her hand, before she slowly sat up, stretching and popping her joints. Looking out the window of the sight of Atlas fighting against the hundreds of her followers, Mandy then turned to the bed she slept on. The unclothed forms of Willow, Winter, and Weiss Schnee covered by the sheets, with Asmodeus lying next to the oldest and clad only in a pair of black boxers, snoring softly. Mandy smirked as she donned a black bathrobe with white fur trims, tightening it around her waist before she exited the bedroom.

In the halls of the Schnee mansion, sleeping cultists lined the halls, using whatever they could use as a bed, some unclothed with either male or female cultists curled next to them, some snoring while other were far quieter. The walls and floor were surprisingly clean but the smell of cocaine, alcohol, sweat, sex, and coffee sulfating the air around them.

Just as she came into whatever the mansion had for a living room, Mandy was a very tired and worn out but awake Gift, who trudged into the room with heavy bags under his eyes before he saw her.

"Good morning, Gift."

"My Queen." Gift saluted her like the good soldier he was, only wearing the black slacks and boots of his uniform, a grey dress shirt covering his upper torso, and a necklace that had a Star of Chaos pendant on it. He had a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand before he raised a finger above it, letting a stream of indigo venom fall into his cup before taking a sip.

"Ah..." The Warden sighed as he led her to Jacque's office, "That's a good cup."

"May I?" Mandy extended a hand for his cup of coffee.

"You saw that I spiked it with venom, my queen?" Gift deadpanned at her, who let it slip because he was obviously tired.

"Oh, no. My concern has increased exponentially since you forgot I am immortal." Mandy sarcastically replied.

The Warden stared at her for a second before relenting with a 'Touche.' She took a drink from the mug before giving it back to Gift, smacking her lips before making a pleased sound, "It does taste better with venom."

"By the gods..." Mandy let out a chuckle, putting her hand to her head, "Last night was amazing."

"Yeah... I can't believe that the body was able to bend that way without ripping itself apart." Gift whistled in impress as he took a huge sip of his coffee as they came to the office of Jacque Schnee.

It was well kept but laying on the table was on the desk was Jacque Schnee and his son Whitley, both unconscious from a whiff of Gift's breath before they could stop them and especially before they partied last night. Books thrown to the floor, the windows were shattered, and cold air came in like the tendrils of Warpfrost.

"One second." Mandy said as she walked up to a bust of Nicolas Schnee, twisting the head sideways which opened a panel, revealing a device that resembled a scroll but more advanced and bulky. She traced it from the compartment before it closed, the sight of it making Gift raise an eyebrow.

"What is that?" The Warden asked before she threw it to him, who caught it on reflex.

"Blueprints on a more advanced design on the Atlesian Paladin." Mandy said as she walked out of the office with Gift following her out of the office, "Even if we fail to take Atlas, we can still gain something from this."

"Ah." Gift replied as they returned to whatever the mansion had for a living room. It was surprisingly clean as well, with several cultists cleaning up after themselves after the celebrations. Two cultists, one male and one female, were lying against each other on the white couch. He rested a cigarette on her lips before lighting it with a Zippo, and then doing the same for himself. Both smiled, seemingly like lovers. When both of them saw Gift, they winked at him.

Mandy blinked as she opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her.

"Yes, I had to sleep on that couch." Gift replied with a roll of the eyes as he said down on a white leather chair and sipped his Nightshade laced coffee, gaining a frown as he stared at it and swirled it in its mug, "Mmm... Needs Black Widow venom."

Also, Ember, Ty-Lee, Azula, and other cultists that weren't sleeping or cleaning were just lounging around and talking to each other. However, this managed to be a time when they traded stories. Both Azula and Ty-Lee had their hair down, the former only wearing a velvet bathrobe and the latter wearing brown rags. Ember was merely in a black top and slacks while she had her guitar in her hands.

"Alright, Ty-Lee, it's your turn." Ember chose her randomly and without care, strumming Heartslaver.

"Oh, come on!" Azula complained to the guitarist in a childish tone, "I thought we agreed Ty-Lee couldn't tell anymore!"

Ty-Lee pouted childishly at Zim's words, "Oh, come on, Azula! I tell good stories!"

Azula gave her a deadpan stare before stating, "Is it about a misunderstood hottie who was brought down by wearing glasses, who gets a makeover and wins the heart of the football/soccer/Lacross captain?"

"D-Don't be silly!" Ty-Lee looked away with a blush, feeling like a kid that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Remember what we talked about, Ty." Ember clarifies to her Nurglite friend, looking stern about this, "If this turns into a retelling of 'She's All That', you lose storytelling privileges!"

The Queen began to tune them out the story as Gift merely grumbled as he buttoned up his shirt and did his dark grey tie, pinning his Iron Cross on it after tying it.

"Oh, man." Mandy hears someone come into the room, turning her head to a doorframe where she saw a shirtless Asmodeus walk out before zipping up his black shiny leather pants, seemingly out of breath as he leans against the frame, "You and Willow are freaks!"

"Asmodeus..." The Queen said lasciviously as the former put on a white long sleeve shirt and a black leather apron, "Had fun last night?"

"You bet!" The mad scientist said with a wink and a smirk, getting a sound of amusement out of Mandy due to his charisma, before he walked to the kitchen and taking out a knife and pan to begin cooking, "So, what's the plan?"

"Depends." Mandy said as he opened the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs and milk before getting some other ingredients, "We need slaves, resources, technology, something that Atlas and the SDC can provide. You and Zim can deal with the specs on the machines while Ozai and Ty-Lee can deal with resistance. Me and Azula will handle those that object to our dealings. Meaning, you're going to have to restrain yourself for quite a while."

"Oh, fine." Asmodeus pouted like a child having been denied their favorite toy before a pondering look came across his face for a moment, then asking, "Are Faunus women good substitutes? Cause, let me tell you, Mrs. Schnee and her daughters have left quite the impression to beat."

"How would I know that?" Mandy retorted, trying not to sound jealous due to him regarding them over her, trying to hide her jealousy by reading a magazine that had a cat Faunus in a bikini, "Regardless, we can find out later."

"Fair enough." The mad scientist shrugged before he turned to the others, "Hey, guys!" He called out to the others who were sitting around the living room, "What do you guys want for breakfast?"

The others gave their orders to the mad scientist who immediately began to get to work, but before Gift could give his...

"Gift!" Mandy yelled and snapping her fingers, causing the Warden to stiffen into position, "Your break's over. Go to the soldiers and get them ready for the second phase!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The Warden saluted, before he chugged the rest of his coffee down and then running out but not before grabbing his jacket, overcoat and peak cap from a coat and hat rack.

Asmodeus rolled his eyes and continued cooking, "The stick up his ass is like a pole." He shook his head before he asked the Queen, while breaking some eggs into a bowl and pouring a cup of milk, "Say, Mandy? Why did you want those blueprints? We have plenty of titans that work just fine."

"Asmodeus..." Mandy said in a charismatic tone that caught his interest, "Imagine a fusion of machine and daemon. Automata with the infernal power of a Warp being. Somewhat like a Daemon Engine or a Daemon Weapon in the form of a Daemon bound to a mechanical golem. Kind of like the Brass Thief."

"Hmm... hypothetically sound." Asmodeus admitted as he pondered it while stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon, "But I'll need a daemon to experiment upon."

"Relax, I can get one easily." Mandy waved off, before turning the page on her magazine, "By the way, did you call him?"

"Oh, I did. One second, I gotta mix these two together." The mad scientist replied as he poured a cup of flour into the bowl, "Anyway, let's see if they have jam..." As he searched, he asked out loud, "By the way, off topic, but why do we need Zim? Sure, he's a better sorcerer than me, but I thought you said that he was an imbecile?"

"Do not underestimate Zim." Mandy said as she set down her book while looking out the window, "While he is of much less importance than he believes he is, his arrogance is both a weakness and a strength. His colossal ego means that whenever he is challenged by anything, he will go to any lengths to prove himself. That and combined with his drive and ambitions makes him dangerous and unpredictable."

Asmodeus blinked, still stirring before he shook it off and continued cooking.

"By the way, I never knew you could cook. When we first meet, I assumed you were more of an artist than a scientist, much less a cook."

"About that." The scientist said as he turned the oven on, "You'd be surprised what happened after we last meet. One of my endeavors was learning under Bile after he made the Labyrinth of the Abyss."

That actually took Mandy by surprise as she inquired with a raised eyebrow, "The Labyrinth of the Abyss?"

"It's Bile's madhouse." Asmodeus replied, resting his head on his fist as he explained he waited for the oven to get to the right temperature, "The whole place is filled with patients that are either mutants, metahumans, parahumans, psykers, or innocents that were captured for experimentation or recruitment for warband. It's infested with mad scientists and doctors who wantonly torture and experiment on the former four, Slaaneshi nurses, Nurglite doctors, and Bile's cabal. The guards are Bile's modified Astartes and Noise Marines, the orderlies are Khornates, and the therapists are Tzeetchians. The worst part are the lower levels as they are used as a prison for various superpowered nightmares and creations, and containment is none-too-good, much of the institutional factors are ineffectual at best, and many of the patients probably would have been better suited for the Labyrinth of Ruin."

Mandy's eyebrows went to her hairline with her eyes wide, "Really?"

"Yeah, it was a blast being there." Asmodeus laughed as he whisked together some eggs and milk together with a load of protein powder for the Khornates, "The patients were so fun to experiment on."

The others merely rolled their eyes at the mad scientist's ramblings before he paused a moment, "By the way, Mandy? What about the Primarchs? They might be a good asset to your goals."

"Oh, please." Mandy rolled her eyes as she opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of wine, "The Primarchs are too much of children with transhuman abilities to be considered an asset. Fulgrim can barely be bothered with his personal pleasures than with conquering worlds."

"Angron?"

"Angron is beyond useless." Mandy replied, look annoyed at having to mention the Red Angel, "Angron was strong, one of the mightiest and undoubtedly the greatest warrior of the primarchs. Yet he was also weak. He kept blaming others for the unfairness and the wrongs that affected his life. The Butcher's Nails that was installed in his brain, for instance. Yet despite the Nails being responsible for so much of his suffering, he also implanted these in his sons in a complete act of hypocrisy. Not only that, but he seems to ignore how much the other primarchs struggled. Look at Sanguinius, born on a radioactive world with mutant cannibals. Mortarion who grew up on a toxic world ruled by mutant psyker despots, Kurze who grew up all alone in an urban nightmare hellhole, and Corax who was quite literally raised in a prison. Hell, even Guilliman who was born 'lucky' suffered his share of hardships, chief among these the loss of Konor, the father who raised him, yet Angron simply does not seem to acknowledge how much work was put into building the realm of Ultramar. As if no hardship, nothing of importance, was involved in building and maintaining such an achievement. The only thing the Red Angel ever did in his life? He blamed others."

Roboute's words from Nuceria still rang true after all these years, 'You're still a slave, Angron. Enslaved by your past, blind to the future. Too hateful to learn. Too spiteful to prosper.'

"Magnus?"

"Mandy was a genius but he was also an idiot." Mandy replied as she supped some of the crimson wine, "He thought he was strong enough to bind the power of Tzeentch to his will, only for him to crash and burn like the retard he was."

"Perturabo?"

"A temperamental manchild with a Martyr complex." An annoyed tone came to that one, "Perturabo hated Dorn because of something that was denied of him, but the irony is that he himself was too dutiful to see that he was the source of his own misery."

"Mortarion?"

"A petty Social Darwinist who smells worse than the most polluted Underhives." There was something about her tone that indicated that she was annoyed as well with the Pale King, "But the truth is Mortarion had it all wrong. His hatred of weakness was ironically itself a weakness. He was too stubborn to realize when he needed others to stand. That was his downfall.

"Konrad?"

"Konrad is... complicated." Mandy sighed, "Even if I could convince him to join me if he was still alive, Konrad and the Night Lords despise Chaos and would try to break away from us. And don't get me started on his twisted sense of justice."

"Alpharius?"

"That complexity addict is so caught up in his attempts of trying to impress the Emperor that he'd be more of a burden than an asset." The Queen said as she supped more wine from her glass, "Sure, in the long game, his plans are brilliantly crafted, but they waste resources and manpower. The only reason why the Emperor made use of him was due to his plans being incredibly effective regardless of the costs."

"Short Man Syndrome is a hell of a thing." Asmodeus replied as he nearly finished breakfast, "Okay, so after that expositional onslaught, where does that leave us?"

Mandy just shrugged, taking another sip of wine as the mad scientist began serving everyone their meals.

XXX

"STRENGTHEN THE LEFT FLANK!" Gift yelled as he raised a saber to the Atlas forces oncoming, "THEY'RE COMING IN FROM ABOVE!"

Several airships were descending down at their position, firing upon them as they tried to get back the defense lines erected by the cultists. The Chaos Cultists responded by loading impractically large and multi-barreled turrets and firing upon them with reckless abandon. However, either Atlas dropships were composed of an unfathomably durable alloy, or the cultists had shit aim, because they weren't going down and Atlas troopers were coming in.

Some of them decided 'screw it' and armed themselves with chainswords and chainaxes, and charged headlong towards the Atlas reinforcements while others seemed to take up impractical looking weapons and fired at the reinforcements. That managed to get the Atlas forces to use their dropships as cover before shooting at the rampaging cultists, taking them down as reinforcements from AK-200s were coming in.

"Oh, do I have to do everything?" Pharos Gift rolled his eyes before he readied Ars Goetia, "Fall back to the inner walls! I'll take care of this!" He felt the alchemy and venom coursing through his veins as he stirred it all into the cauldron that was his stomach, purple mist exiting from his throat before he roared out just as the other soldiers got out of his crosshairs, "ASTAROTH!"

He expelled a stream of purple black sludge lined with yellow blaring eyes from his mouth at the Atlas forces, who immediately jumped back at the tide of noxious sludge spread through the street, slowly melting a handful of the dropships that got in the way.

Suddenly, the sludge suddenly began bubbling and roiling before several yellow bulging eyes and snapping yawning maws of saber-like fangs formed, before then several tentacles lashed out as the Atlas forces began backing away in utter terror. The Astaroth screeched at the terrified troopers who began firing at it with reckless abandon, which did little as the rounds dissolved when they hit the slimy constitution of the beast.

As his beast held off the troopers and those tincans, Gift turned to his soldiers and yelled out, "SPREAD OUT! DON'T GIVE THEM A FUCKING INCH OF GROUND GAINED!" The cultists under his command roared out in fanatical zeal and charged headlong, leaving the more sensible ones behind to keep the defense lines up and running.

Despite them managing to slowly drive back the forces of the Kingdom, they were still losing numbers and Atlesian Knights seemed to be stronger than they looked. A sigh came from Gift as he facepalmed and dragged his hand down, "The one time I wish I had the idiots in the Empire."

"Well, don't worry about it, Gift." A voice caused the Warden to turn, seeing Asmodeus walking into his command post as he put a black leather duster with white flame designs on the sleeves, collar, and trims, "We're retreating to another universe. We have what we need from here."

Gift nodded before he yelled to the others, "ALL OF YOU! RATHER ALL YOUR SUPPLIES AND RETREAT TO THE MANSION! THOSE THAT CAN'T CATCH UP GETS LEFT BEHIND!"

Those that were still behind the defense walls immediately began to rush at getting all the supplies and weapons to the Schnee Mansion before their forces were overwhelmed by the invading army. Gunshots, chainswords reeving, screaming and gurgles of dying rang out as both sides tried harder and harder to keep the other from gaining ground in an orgy of violence and murder.

"HUNTSMEN!" One of the cultists yelled out before he was decapitated by a scythe.

Others turned to see the one responsible was Ruby Rose, whose face was uncharacteristically twisted into a snarl of anger. Another cultist was blasted in twain by an equally enraged Yang Xiao Long, before another was garroted by a black ribbon and then impaled through the heart by an equally enraged Blake Belladonna. More Huntsmen and Huntresses were coming in, slaying cultists faster than they could react.

"Oh, crap." Gift whispered before he yelled to the surviving cultists around him, "RETREAT! RETREAT TO THE MANOR!"

Asmodeus and the others quickly got the tunnel that led to the mansion, any that couldn't get in were left behind and killed by the enraged forces oncoming. Before they could advance to the mansion, the tunnel was sealed off by a massive grey liquid that quickly hardened, effectively stopping the huntsmen and huntresses from advancing.

"What the?" Ruby gaped along with her team before the rest of the army advanced to the Mansion itself.

XXX

"WE GOTTA GO PEOPLE! WE GOTTA GO!" Asmodeus yelled as he and Gift ran in along with the surviving cultists ran into the foyer of the mansion, where thankfully the others have made preparations in case this happens. One of Mandy's Royal Guard merely deployed a device that unfolded into a gate shape before a vortex of white and blue formed within its bounds.

True, Mandy could have sent a massive force to conquer this world easily, but all she needed were the specs for advanced models. Other than that, she had no use for this universe.

Just as the rest of her followers entered the portal behind Asmodeus and Gift, Mandy looked back to see the doors of Schnee Mansion cracking at the Atlesian army's collective siege.

Mandy merely scowled in annoyance; she had what she needed.

Picking up the device as it folded up, she entered before it close just a minute later.

Sometime later...

The Dreaded Crown

A roar came out as an Atlesian Paladin spasmed with crimson warp lightning arced and coursed through its frame while it was observed by the makers inside an abandoned hanger turned laboratory. The arcs suddenly ceased as it was surrounded by a malaise of red.

The metal suddenly began undulating like flesh before the sounds of metal rending and bones cracking, blood began seeping from every space as the white was slowly replaced by red, flesh began growing and fusing with the frame before bony protuberances sprouted and pierced through the circuity. Muscle fibers and metal ran like liquid as it was reshaped to the entity's will.

A fissure in the cockpit formed as a head with a maw of sabre-like fangs and blaring red eyes, covered in a carapace of crimson gold trimmed metal. It roared out and tried to attack before a green forcefield in the shape of a cube formed around it, stopping its truck-sized fist as it collided with hard light. Despite its strength, the Daemon Engine could only roar out as it futilely rammed its fists into the hard light construct.

"Another mindless beast." Mandy's expression and tone was even but the others around her could tell that she was beginning to get annoyed, "You kept telling me that you two can mass produce Daemon Engines, but from what I've seen, all you make are more akin to Helbrutes."

"Look, we're sorry alright?" Dr. Flug said as he and Zim stood in front of the displeased Mandy, "It's just that we're having a hard time controlling them. It may seem hard to believe my Queen, but daemons are in fact extremely hard to control."

"MY Queen, binding a daemon is a feat in itself, actually controlling it is an entirely different ordeal." Zim explained, hoping that it would placate her.

However, she glared at them with her eyes a vibrant red.

"But! BUT!" Flug stuttered, raising a finger as both he and Zim back away in terror at her glare, "We have had some... successes in binding extremely powerful daemons to host forms. Sure, some of them... burnt out under the strain of their power, but progress is progress!" He gave a nervous smile behind his paper bag mask, hoping that would please her.

Her glare deintensified but was still directed to them, "Flug, why can't you be more like Asmodeus? He managed to create an actual working version of the project I commissioned."

"Well, I'm more of an engineer than a daemonologist like Asmodeus." Dr. Flug chuckled nervously as he tugged his collar out of habit. Asmodeus wasn't here at the moment due to him being off to get more reinforcements for the final phase for her plan.

"Very well." Mandy seemed to accept that answer before she ordered, "Get results. Or I throw you to the Warp."

The two practically shuddered in relief when her glare was taken off them for the moment, with the Tzeentchian Scientist putting a hand to his palpitating hearts and the Tzeentchian Irken wiping the mucus-like material that his species secreted under intense heat off his forehead. Suddenly, Mandy's gaze returned to them, but this time it was more like an idea came to her.

"Zim, Flug." The two scientists stood stiffened at their queen expressing their names, "Find me the strongest daemon in your books."

The duo looked at each other with confused expressions before they relented, going through the assortment of tomes and grimoires that Mandy had obtained over the millennia, the Queen merely watching as they dug through the archives that happened to be in the observatory. A few minutes later, she managed to get her results.

"Here we go." Dr. Flug said as he and Zim walked up to Mandy, holding a tome of daemonic lore in his hands, "Slyte. Also known as the King of Worms, Slyte was revered as one of the 72 Daemon Kings of Chaos, with one of his forms being a blackened skeleton with vast claws surrounded by orange fire and lightning. It is said that Slyte attempted to challenge Exodia the Forbidden One, only for the latter to break the former in twain."

"However, to summon Slyte is a near impossible task." Zim continued for him, "To bind him is an easier but more emotional process. To bind him to a host is for the host to be a loved one. No one else. No one more."

A loved one? Mandy had one that had yet to be of any use.

"Come with me." The Queen stated as she turned heel and walked to another corridor. The confused scientists looked at each other before they followed her down that dimly lit corridor.

They walked down a corridor lined with animated sets of armor armed with halberds, on a black carpet of rotting flesh before coming to a pair of gothic doors guarded by gargoyle-like creatures perched on pedestals of silver and stone. The twin beasts growled before grasping twin latches and forcing the doors to part from each other, revealing a vast room shrouded in blackness.

Mandy raised a hand, telling the scientists not to enter as the doors closed behind her.

Conjuring a ball of bright red fire, she used it to ignite a trail of flammable liquids that ignited and set all the torches alight, illuminating the room in a sinister shade of red, revealing an obsidian throne.

In front of her was a figure was pale and decrepit, thin white skin pulled taut and overstretched, the cheeks were ripped apart revealing the blackened ebony teeth, a blank blindfold was wrapped around the figure's eyes. He had ragged pitch-black hair with many gray streaks, his hands and fingernails were pitch black, many sharp blades and glass shards imbedded into his muscles, and he wore torn apart black robes.

"Mother..." Draen howled as he raised a hand towards his mother, who got on her knees as she gently placed a hand on his cheek.

"Hush now. Hush now." Mandy said in a surprisingly comforting tone, "All is well now, my dear boy."

Draen seemed to calm at her touch, leaning against his mother as he muttered, "Is it time?"

Mandy merely nodded in silence, knowing the fate that awaited him if he was not sacrificed now. Draean took her silence as a confirmation before he groaned out, "I am ready."

Giving a sad nod in confirmation, the Queen of the Damned picked the corpse-like form of her first son into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder, before walking back through the ankle-deep water covering the floors of his cell. As she approached, the doors opened, letting the two that came with her see what she was carrying in her arms. Dr. Flug blinking in surprise and Zim gawking, pointing a long finger at the thing in her arms.

"W-What is that?"

"My first son." Mandy whispered, something that caught the both of them off guard.

"Your first son?" Flug blinked in shock, "How old is he?"

"2,000 years old. He was blessed with an extended lifespan by the gods but when he failed them, they crippled him." Mandy informed them as she walked down the corridor with the interested scientists, "I kept him here so that he would be able to learn from his failures. But it seemed that he will be able to give me one last boon in his life."

Zim and Flug both looked at each other in shock but said nothing as there was nothing they could say.

Soon, they came to a massive open and domed room, lined with statues of the lost, spikes lining the ceilings, the floor obsidian with several lines of Dark Tongue arranged into a pentagram with the Star of Chaos in the center, hidden gears churning the framework of the dome as the spikes and symbols swam in an eternal dance of time that flew through the Warp.

Mandy gently Draen down on a throne of spikes and chains, his unending agony increasing as he felt the spike piercing his back and vertebrae, a gasp of pain escaping his throat, his blood hardening almost immediately upon contact with the air before the pain simmered down to a more tolerable point. The Queen gently glided her hand on his greying black hair, "It'll all be over soon."

XXX

Hours later, the other members of Mandy's armada soon came to the domed room, coming to see what it was that Mandy had summoned them for. Asmodeus and Gift were at the front, the latter standing at attention and the former having a more relaxed posture. Azula was now in a leather dress lined with finery and jewels, black sleeves, several bejeweled rings, purple gold trimmed boots, and a necklace that possessed the Mark of Slaanesh. Ty-Lee was hidden in a cloak of moss covered rags, chlorophyl skin with a face covered by a wooden mask that only possessed two eyeholes and a pair of antlers, her hair almost resembling vines, and corpse-like hands grasping a wooden staff with a shrunken head tied by the dreadlocks to the tip.

And finally, Mandy's inner circle had come; the Daemon Princes Gramorr, Necrafa, and C, and the Chaos Lords Hawkmoth and Phobos. Hawkmoth was adorned in a red suit lined in chaotic text with a black dress shirt and a red tie, having a cane with a handle that resembled a moth. Phobos had the same robes as he did turn his reign of Meridian, with the only difference being a necklace with a Star of Chaos pendant.

Finally, there was her children, all in the back and in the hundreds, their faces covered in masks of ivory and their heavily scarred bodies covered in red velvet robes over leather body armor, armed with either lasguns or autoguns blessed by Chaos and Chainweapons that have been heavily mutated. The only ones not mindless drones are Grim Junior and Minimandy.

However, the sister recognized the corpse-like man lying on the throne of spikes and chains, especially after one of the corrupted priests removed the blindfold from his eyes, revealing his had become black and void-like, almost akin to hole of the Well of Eternity.

"Draen..." Minimandy muttered as she covered her mouth in horror, coming close to him while the others were distracted with chatter.

"Minerva..." Draen breathed to her, putting a hand to her cheek as she gently grasped, her fingers avoiding the blades and obsidian glass embedded in his skin, "Hush now, Minverva, hush now. It'll all be over soon."

Minerva nodded at his words, sounding resigned to his fate after centuries of suffering, especially after Zim walked up to him with a radiant green mixture in a small beaker. The emaciated Draen downed it in one gulp, feeling the compound simmering through his veins as his stomach quickly digested it, the pain lessened as he relaxed slightly.

"My friends and comrades," Minnie nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her mother begin to speak to the masses around her, her arms raised in ceremony grand, "Today, we are about to receive a boon like no other. Slyte, one of the 72 Daemon Kings, will be joining us in our crusade against the Emperor! With his tarnishing breath, we will rot away the walls and formations of the Imperium! With his strength and power, the men and women devoted to Chaos will brings the infernal winds of the Gods! We will be able to stand beyond even the Black Legion and the Red Corsairs! We will be able to break the Imperium and break the galaxy in twain! WE WILL STAND ABOVE THE GALAXY!"

The cheers came from the others as Draen remained silent, now resigned to his fate, feeling like his life was about to end. Mandy dipped a finger in a container of a blood and ink solution that she then used to draw a symbol on his forehead that resembled a maw of fangs surrounded by tentacles. The priests then took her place as they dripped their fingers into the blood and ink solution, painting the bleached white skin of her eldest son in Dark Tongue.

Zim sycophantically placed the tome in her awaiting hand with a bow, slipping away, before she opened it and turned to the page that contained Slyte's summoning ritual. She trailed her finger down to the incantation, clearing her throat before beginning the ritual.

Alien words exited her mouth, more akin to a thick immaterial tar escaping her throat than air, ecstatic and chilling, warping as it rang through the immaterial realm of the Gods beyond the known. The air churned with infernal power as it began to circle around Draen, who's only reaction was his eyes closing in resignation and acceptance. Suddenly, the symbols burned, searing as they became part of his flesh, causing him to cry out as the pain began to numb his mind. Mandy remained unfazed, continuing to issue alien incantations from her throat as the King of Worms began to draw itself towards the host body.

Soon, swarms of insects and other creatures began to circle around the body of Draen, orange energy crackling around him as it seemed like a shape or color from beyond the veil descended and slithered into his eyes and mouth, taking in the body that the Queen had gifted it.

Suddenly, the chains around Draen's wrists broke and he floated in the air, arms splayed out before the typhoon of orange swirled around him and swallowed itself into his form, the binding being complete. However, Draen descended, laying as his mother held him in her arms for the first time since his birth.

"Mother..." Draen breathed his last and went silent, dying in his undying mother's arms. Without even a second thought, Mandy placed her hand on his cooling forehead and slowly began to close his eyelids, letting his soul rest. However, she felt heat form again as the daemon began to let its power flow through the cells of her son's body.

"NOW!" Mandy roared out before the daemon would attack them. One of the priests scrambled to the possessed body of Draen and took out a necklace of charms from various worlds before tying it around Slyte's neck before the daemons could lash out with its new body. Breath, black and tarnishing, came from the mouth as the cheeks healed, standing up before it faced the Queen of the Damned.

Suddenly, there was the sound of searing meat before the glass and metal in his right arm dislodged in rivers of boiling blood, his body then lit up from within with a hellish glow that make his skeleton visible. The flesh on his right arm peeled back to reveal the blackened bones while the fingers lengthened into vast claws crackling with infernal power.

Slyte clenched its clawed hand while the other servants of Chaos bowed to it, other than Mandy and the Undivided who merely acknowledged the King of Worm's presence.

"I have given you your vessel, Slyte." Mandy informed the daemon, who turned its radiant orange gaze towards her, "Is our agreement assured?"

Slyte was silent before it opened its mouth, letting a voice both sweet and terrible like the lullaby of a tyrant, "Agreed."

XXX

After that, Slyte was left in the chambers to meditate and guide the Dreaded Crown through time and space, letting them rest before the final part of Mandy's plan could begin in earnest. Despite that, Mandy and the Undivided decided to call a meeting to discuss the final part so that nothing is left to chance.

They were in a massive room that almost resembled an office that belonged to a therapist, books shelves lined with tomes of eldritch forgotten lore, an ornate wooden desk with a velvet chair, windows that peered into the Immaterium, and a long red leather bench with black framework. Her inner circle and her two children made themselves comfortable, serfs waiting on them, with only Black Hat standing with her.

"So, what now?" Phobos made the brave decision to break the silence, "We have one of the 72 Daemon Kings. We are now practically unstoppable. What will be your final phase?"

Giving an amused smirk at Phobos' impatience, Mandy decided to humor him, "Molech. The Warp Gate."

The surprise from the others was palpable, wide eyes and dropped jaws abound with only Black Hat being unfazed, merely adjusting his tie and monocle with a sigh of annoyance.

"M-Mother, you must be joking!" Minimandy said incredulously, stunned silly at the fact that her mother would attack Molech, "Even with our considerable power, the Imperium would likely give a fierce response to an invasion of Molech! Even the Emperor would likely react if you gained power from the Warp Gate!"

"HA! You truly believe that the Emperor would focus on us when I unleash my master plan?" Mandy questioned them with an arrogant grin, "When I enter the Warp Gate, I'll be able to gain the power of the Emperor himself and then there will be nothing to stop me from my conquest of the Warp and realspace!"

"And what of Draen?"

Mandy's bravado immediately faded as her face became a blank mask at Phobos's inquiry, "What of him?"

Phobos blinked at Mandy's machine-like tone before he clarified, "You came to your first son after hundreds of years of keeping him in agony, before you fished him out of the hole you locked him in, just so you could sacrifice him!"

"And with him as a sacrifice, I've secured a vessel for a powerful daemon. That, and I've gotten rid of something with little use left." Mandy said with a voice void of emotion, almost seeming like a machine than a person.

The other Undivided, including the serfs and cultists that were waiting on her, balked at her words. Black Hat merely gave a surprised look but said nothing more.

Incensed, Phobos stood up and scowled at Mandy, disgusted at her disregard for her first son, "You really are heartless. That boy loved you more than he ever loved himself. Didn't you love him at all?"

Mandy was silent, merely staring off into the distance at the red swirling storms of the Warp, "...I don't know."

Phobos scowled while the others frowned in disapproval, the others had shocked expressions, both Grim Jr and Minimandy had hurt expressions at their mother's words. Even Grammor and Necrafa seemed surprised, looking at each other for a second.

Nothing was said after that. For what could be said at the Queen's ruthlessness?

Molech

924.M42

Molech is close in size and orbit to Terra and has a moon of similar size and scope. Four major continents exist: Estara, Neuropia, Arcanius, and Molechari. Much of Molech is home to thick jungles filled with savage beasts that its Knight Houses keep at bay or hunt for sport.

Being very similar to Terra, Molech was targeted early for colonization by Humanity. Due to the savage beasts that roam the world, Knight suits became necessary for the colonists survival and eventually Knight Houses formed and became the supreme authority. Sometime during the Dark Age of Technology, it is said that the Emperor along with several other Perpetuals such as Alivia Sureka traveled to Molech on a one-way spacecraft. There, they found a gateway into the Realm of Chaos which the Emperor entered, making a bargain with the Dark Gods and becoming imbued with new powers and the knowledge to create the Primarchs. The Emperor left Sureka behind to look after the Gate.

During the Age of Strife, Molech's ancient Knight Houses protected the world from the horrors of Old Night. Later in 869.M30, Molech itself was brought into the fledgling Imperium during the Great Crusade by a combined force of Dark Angels, Luna Wolves, Emperor's Children, and White Scars each led by their respective Primarchs, who banned the worship of their serpent god in favor of the Imperial Truth. The Emperor accompanied them, and erased from each Primarch's minds the planet's significance, while leaving behind a substantial force to garrison the world to ensure none could use the same gateway to the Warp he had. The Knight House of Devine came to dominate the world, and the city of Lupercalia, built in honour of Horus Lupercal, was constructed over the cave network where the Warp Gate was located.

During the Horus Heresy, the planet was the site of a major invasion by the Sons of Horus and the Death Guard, led by Horus Lupercal and Mortarion, as Horus had regained his memory of the gateway and sought to obtain the same powers the Emperor had attained. The planet was conquered by traitor forces after House Devine turned rogue, with only a hundred survivors from the planet escaping. Later after Horus' defeat, Molech was liberated during the Great Scouring.

However, despite the heavy defenses, anything came be broken down by someone of true brilliance playing the long game. And Mandy was someone who knew how to play the long game.

And thus, the horrid forces of Chaos slowly and quietly began to move into position, cultists beginning implanted into key positions, bidding their time with the exact time to strike.

Lupercalia

998.M42

In one of the noble houses of Molech, Eros was awoken by the sound of a window breaking, slowly getting up from her bed and pulling away her blanket made of animal hides, hugging her stuffed bear, Ree. The 16-year-old girl was only in a white night shirt that matched her platinum blond hair. She got to her feet, walking to the door that separated her room from the rest of her home, grasping the doorknob before turning it.

A gentle push opened the door, revealing the ivory halls of her house that she reluctantly stepped inside.

Her feet pressed onto the azure gold trimmed carpet, looking around at the windows that allowed the moonlight through, before she hugged Ree closer when another noise came out from the halls. Eros peered from the corner of a hall, looking through the darkness to see that at the end of the hall was the bathroom doors slight ajar with light peering out of them.

Another crash rang through the house, causing Eros to flinch.

After a moment, the girl slowly crept away, hoping not to attract the attention of the intruder, going to the chambers of her parents in the hopes that they would be able to deal with the intruder themselves. However, when she entered, the room was silent as a tomb, with the vague sounds of breathing from the bed.

"Mother? Father?" She called out in a weak tone, hoping that it would wake them from their slumber.

Both were sound asleep, unconscious with the smell of sleep aid medicine sulfating their breath. Knowing that she would be unable to wake them, Eros slowly closed the door and turned her fearful gaze back to the hall where the noises had grown louder. Creeping to the corner that led to the hallway, she turned her head to see the light from the bathroom grow as the door had become more ajar.

Swallowing her fear, the teenaged noble slowly crept through the hall leading to the bathroom, her footsteps softly ringing through the marble floor before she approached the slightly ajar door. There were noises of a man muttering to himself and throwing things across the room, feeling the fear in her heart rise, wonder what kind of beast could be beyond those doors.

Eros looked at Ree and said, "Let's be brave, Ree. We have to protect mother and father." As if Ree spoke back, she blinked, "Huh? No, you're wrong, Ree. They care about me. They care about me a lot! They don't mean it when they tell me they're arranging a marriage for me."

Proceeding as quietly as possibly, Eros approached and grabbed the doorknob, and pulled it open.

Inside the lavatory, there were cosmetics and other canisters of pastes and sprays splayed across the floors, some broken and their contents spilling onto the pristine marble. The intruder was a man who had vibrant pink hair, skin more akin to marble, black eyeliner and lipstick, and menacing fuchsia eyes. He was dressed in a black leather duster with silver flames on the cuffs, sleeves, trims, and lapels, a black leather shirt, purple leather pants with knee high black leather boots with multiple bootstraps. His face and shirt had multiple cuts and stained in blood.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS THE DISINFECTANT?!" The strange man roared while he crushed a bottle of paste in his hand, causing Eros to yelp and drop Ree. Which, unfortunately for her, got his attention as he turned around to see her standing in the doorframe.

"Oh, hello." The strange man greeted her in a surprisingly calm and pleasant manner. He gave a rather unsettling attempt at a smile before extending his hand, "My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Azzy for short. And who might you be?"

The teenaged noble gulped, as she reluctantly took his hand, "Eros. Eros Estara."

"Eros, huh? Well, okay. I don't mean to intrude, Eros, but where do you keep the disinfectant?" Asmodeus asked, motioning to his blood-stained outfit, "Some of this blood is mine."

She shakingly pointed to the bottle containing some disinfectant on the second shelve.

"Thanks. Yeah, that's it." Warren thanked her before opening the bottle and dosing himself with it, rubbing over his face and chest, "Damn, that one really put up a struggle. Fought me like he was a cat on crack! Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in someone than the thought of their impending death." He then looked at Eros before grinning a demented grin while brandishing an ornate switchblade, "I see, by the looks of you, that you understand."

Eros just squirmed slightly.

"Hey, who's your friend?" Asmodeus then pointed to her stuffed bear sitting innocently on the floor, picking it up.

"Um, that's Ree."

"Well, hello there, Ree! Nice to meet you! I'm Azzy!" Asmodeus cooed at the teddy bear, doting over it like a grandparent, "So, your Eros' little friend? Well, you certainly are a cute little bear-bear! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

Eros couldn't help but giggle, charmed at the man cooing at her teddy bear.

Suddenly, the strange man grabbed her by the back of her hand then planted his lips on hers. Her eyes widened at the sudden gesture, strangely entranced by the sensation of the flesh, her eyes fluttering until they closed before he forced something into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it. Her eyes shot open when the pill-like object was forced down her throat, feeling it drop into her stomach and dissolve.

"The pill should take about an hour or two to kick in." Asmodeus said when he parted lips with her, "When you know that it's time for you to come to me, just do what this card says." Not even a second later, he pulled out a royal purple card with gold scroll patterns, flinging it at her that she caught between her fingers much to her surprise.

"Anyway, it's getting late. I should go now. I'm so awake I need to be out." Asmodeus waltzed out of the room like he owned the house, while she snapped out of her trance and suddenly followed him unexpectedly into the opulent hallway, "Also, sorry about the window but I noticed that it was locked. I don't suggest you ever lock it again. Anyway, later, and thanks for the disinfectant. It's been nice talking."

He then got to the broken window before wheeling around to face her, "But we'll have plenty of time for that after all." He then got close to Eros enough for her to flinch back before he kissed her on the forehead, "I'm on your planet now."

Asmodeus then let himself fall out of the window and out of sight. Eros looked out of the window, seeing no falling form descending down below.

She suddenly wondered why her heart was beating faster when she kept thinking about him...

Kush

971.M42

In a small remote part of Molech, hiding in its dense and thick jungles was a small village, exiled from the rest of civilization was a small village in Kush. The village had no name, because a name would attract the attention of the Imperials, and they must be hidden from the Empire of the Stars by decree of their queen who ordered them to slowly begin the great ritual. The village itself located in an inclined position where the thickest of the jungles were, elevated to a clearing that allowed the villagers to see the skies of Molech.

Its people hunted in shrouds of leaves and vines, using spears and silenced autoguns to not attract attention of any of the savage beasts or curious wanderers in the jungles, descending down a narrow tunnelway to a transport station abandoned during the Age of Strife. Several moments later, they would arrive at the jungles and subtly grab any prey they could and kill them quietly, before bringing the prey silently back to the terminals.

On their way, they often avoid savage beasts that were stalking the confines of the jungles, sometimes losing a naive and overeager hunter to the Black Stalkers that hid in shadows and feast on hearts. But most of the time, they accomplish their journey to the terminal and proceed with the slow ride home.

At the time of their arrival, the prey would be taken to the cooks, who would skin, chop, and diligently prepare the meat for the feast. All villagers young and old feasting with their heart's content so that they live another day. The others worked to chop down trees and harvest materials for clothing and shelter, technology from times long sundered to sand being used to protect and to provide.

Nights were when they relied on the spirts from the lords beyond for protection, offering sacrifice and subservience for their great protection beyond the known of man. Draws of blood and animal sacrifice gave both power and fertility on the lands in their village, becoming almost like they worshiped them.

Tonight, however, was the night that all things changed.

In the middle of the night, a wicker and stone covering was slowly pulled away by emaciated claw-like fingers, revealing a hole in the ground the size of a small barrel. Inside was a burrow-like room, not having any tunnels or animals hiding inside, the walls lined with texts of the Book of Lorgar, sulfated with the bones of the dead and broken pottery. Blackness wreathed it in deadened perpetuality before moonlight poured in from the narrow opening as a pair of eyes opened in the shadows.

A small hairless child, emaciate and clothed only in a loincloth, having the Star of Chaos branded on his head, slowly crawled from his spot in the dark to where the moonlight shined down upon him like the eyes of the gods. He stared and stared before slowly raising a hand that gently wiggled its fingers in the light, revealing skin pale as the winter snow.

Just as he attempted to look up, two hands attached to arms that seemed more like ropes of flesh soon slithered down towards him like serpents ready to strike. A noise never escaped him as the hands grasped his shoulders.

"Born from cold and plucked from the suspended immaterial." A voice, deep and smooth as silk, came as he was raised from the ground into the world above. It was a man unlike any. He was hairless, possessing ghoulish features and droopy high cheekbones, a sleeveless black uniform resembling that of a priest's robes. The most haunting feature was the face splitting smile that displayed his dagger-like teeth.

His voice a select tenor, but every word resonates through the witching hour, and every breath teeters on the brink of ecstasy, "From hate and from hunger. Little one, your shell will be vacated for the great lords of the beyond."

He slowly set the boy down, letting the wrinkled pale skin touch the dampened glass for what felt like years. He looked around to see several people in black robes that hid their bodies with diamond shaped helms that concealed their faces. They were silent and seemed still as statues, even as the boy's curious eyes came their way while fear and awe come to him in equal parts.

Suddenly the sounds of metal scrapping caught his ear before the boy turned to see someone coming. An older man with a long grey beard and slicked back white hair with the back and sides shaved came towards him, wearing the same blackened robes but lacking sleeves and opened enough to reveal his chest where a red eight-pointed star with flame symbol in the center sat, a black furred collar, and blackened boots. In his hand was a sword that was dragging along the ground, cutting into the dirt.

The man, Ragneer, stopped in front of the child as they faced each other, the Mark on his chest burning softly with red.

Suddenly, it was as if the stars were consumed by the night sky, leaving only the moon to shine down on their land, the black like an ocean of endless nothing purveying existence.

The boy's breathing grew ragged before his pupils expanded to coat his eyes in black before retracting, having changed to a diamond pattern. They continued staring, the boy was liberated from the corporeal as his body dissolved into a became merely a shadow and flew into the star on Ragneer's chest, causing the warrior to grunt in pain before he fell to his knees.

"Draw your last breath as a slave to the corporeal, my acolyte." The priest said with the tenor of a father enjoying the birth of their spawn or a follower watching the rise of their new god, "My loyal guard."

"Guard?" Ragneer sneered as he stood up, glaring at the priest who seemed more amused than insulted, "You assert that a guard exhibits neither shame nor despair, yet I stand unchanged, a tragic husk with bloodied hands. I surrender my future, the prospect of a family, to carry your poison. You misled me. I renounce your control..." He clenched the grip of his sword with tranquil fury.

At Ragneer's words, the other soldiers slowly revealed black spears with serpents coiling around the tips.

"You unrightful grok!" One of the cultists snarled at Ragneer's words, brandishing his spear at the acolyte, "Hear me now cretin! If my famer was chosen for this most virtuous of tasks, then he would never have died so disgracefully-"

Ragneer interrupted with a single word and a dull expression, "Fascinating."

Suddenly, the cultist was cleaved in half from below the rib with a gargle of death, breaking his spear in the process, blood bursting out as both halves fell to the ground. The other two cultists charged, only for the acolyte to cleave on in half and then stabbed another in the sternum. Another then was impaled by something unseen in the dark. Before the last one could strike, he was impaled anus through shoulder by a long shadowy tendril that ended in a plum in the shape of a fire poker that came from the acolyte's hand.

Ragneer sneers before the tendril dissolved back to the immaterium, before he felt the eyes of the priest burning into the back of his head. He turned to see the father simply staring, that same grin still on his face despite the actions of his acolyte. Ragneer scowled but relented. His defiance was futile, his fidelity too strong, his loyalty too clad in iron.

"Thank you, father." Ragneer bowed to the Priest, resting his forehead on the pommel of his sword, "Forgive me for my defiance. What task have you for your loyal guard?"

The Priest's expression didn't change nor did his tone, "Fidelity has always been your greatest quality, Ragneer. But I swear to you, my son; all of your shame and guilt, all of your sins, they will collapse into the abyss we all race towards."

Unknown to the acolyte, the god of nightmares, long and lean, rose from the endless rows of crucifixions, a halo with eight spikes floating behind, raising its arms to the sky beyond.

"We cannot escape anguish. It is what we are." The Priest raised his arms in tandem with the god of nightmares, "So, share your truth with the world. Share it with the provinces in the Hives in the easts. Show them your conviction! Show them the serenity..."

The god of nightmares' face was then illuminated with the millions of rune script by white burning light, before all around it was engulfed in a blaze of white.

"...of the Warp."

Avadon

998.M42

A beautiful scream came from the last of the loyalist in the city was killed by her and her slaves, enthralled by her presence and willingly falling to her dark will, killing and slaughtering all those that got in her way.

Knowing what Mandy decreed her to do, Azula marched up to the opulent gates of a massive temple that was the center of worship on Molech. Breaking it would mean that it would break the faith of the people and the believers. That and Mandy said that the Emperor had placed an Imperial daemon in the temple to impede Chaos' influence on the planet. And it was her job to kill it because all other options were spent on preparing the uprising.

The Mistress walked into the temple, irradiating her intoxicating presence to all those that dared come before her. The most dedicated of the Emperor's followers turned their guns on themselves rather than allow her to corrupt their souls, the golden gates opening at her command as she entered what appeared to be a temple of the Imperial Creed, opulently decorated with religious iconography and stain glass windows that showed the Emperor in all his glory.

"Face me, Imperius!" Azula yelled out to the empty temple around her, "It is over!"

Nothing replied to her proclamation, leaving her standing there, looking around at the empty cathedral-like temple.

"It is only beginning..." A voice came from nowhere, both deep and cacophonous yet melodic and mysterious, "The Emperor whispered of this day into the stars. He told you of his return. He told you of ruin. The day when the Daemon Queen is born and when she breaks under the weight of her ambitions. The End of the Gods. No More Chaos."

"Your Emperor is dead." Azula growled as she tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, "And he's never coming back."

"Is that what you think?"

A voice came from behind her, causing Azula to scowl and lashed her tail out at the source of the voice after manifesting it through her vessel... only for her to freeze when she saw who was before her.

It was Zuko, looking as he did during the final days of the 100-year war. He stared down at the gold stinger pointed between his eyes, glaring at her with the intensity of a blazing inferno.

"No..." The horror in her voice was palpable, eyes wide as her brother's presence settled into her mind.

He came into the light, revealing his scarred visage to her in its entirety, his voice softened like cloud in gentle wind, "Azula..."

Azula backed away in horror, her stinger tail curling away in tune with her emotions. Zuko remained still before his eyes went ablaze in gold before a blast of gold light sent her flying into the walls of the temple.

She forces herself out of the wall, glaring hatefully at the thing that wore her brother's form, "You're not him... YOU'RE NOT HIM!" She dropped her human form and became a gigantic purple serpentine with golden trimmed carapace, multiple mandibles, and blazing pink eyes. The serpent lashed at Imperius, who merely sidestepped when the massive jaws snapped where he stood a nanosecond ago.

Imperius flung her away with a telekinetic swipe, sending her flying out of the temple where she landed in the middle of the street, the corrupted people remaining as still as pristine statues even as Azula slithered and faced the Imperial Guardian who was standing at the temple entrance. Azula hissed in anger, enlarging her form for intimidation before she screeched out to her thralls.

"KILL HIM!"

Singing discordantly, her thralls immediately charged with reckless abandon, their tongues becoming dark and forked, lashing like tentacles, their eyes like black void, skin becoming a noxious purple, and their finger breaking into claws. Their singing became screams as they came near Imperius, who merely raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

There was a pause and a crack, like the Emperor had broken time itself before a wave of gold seared through the city, burning away the wicked from the holy city. All those lost to the Dark Gods died a screaming death as their souls were snuffed away by the holy power of the Astronomicon.

Silence then reigned as Imperius surveyed around, noting that Azula had vanished alone with the other impure. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had actually killed the Daemon Prince.

Suddenly, Azula, back in her human form, appeared behind him, holding a ceremonial dagger in her hand that she then plunged into Imperius' back. The Imperial Guardian was forced to his knees, but he didn't even grunt in pain, the pavement cracking under the weight of his body and his soul. The blade was seemingly meant to taint him and his holy essence.

A foolish decision. He could not be corrupted by anything.

He turned to see Azula's rapturously sadistic grin, before he uttered his out to the Mistress, "My duty is not done." The Imperial Guardian then disappeared in a shower of light, blinding Azula and melting the dagger in her hand to slag before sending her to the ground with a grunt of pain. A hiss of pain escaped her, shaking off the pain in her hand as she stood back up, glaring at the spot where Imperius used to stand.

Deciding it wasn't worth another moment of her time, Azula hmphed arrogantly and strutted away, mentally reporting to Mandy about how she took care of the Imperial Guardian.

'Miranda, I've dealt with Imperius. We can begin the second phase.'

Mandy sarcastically replied to her, 'Oh, I see the Imperial Guardian was no match for the great and powerful Azula.' She then sighed and stated, 'Regardless, you've done good. I'll warp Gift and Ty-Lee to you. Get everyone ready."

Azula grinned at the remark, not caring that part of it was sarcastic. Any remarks that stroked her ego pleased her regardless. Just then, a red spiraling vortex formed across from her and out stepped both Ty-Lee and Warden Gift.

"Greetings." Azula said pleasantly before she finished with, "You two know your jobs. So get to work."

"Yes, mam!" The two saluted her, Ty-Lee being more upbeat and Gift being more professional. Azula hmphed, satisfied and walked off, but before Ty-Lee could follow her, Gift called out to her.

"Ty, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Um..." The Nurglite girl turned to see Azula walking away without a care before shrugging and deciding to humor the general in all but name, "Sure, Gift. What is it?"

"Why do you like Azula?" Gift whispered to Ty-Lee, before counting off with his fingers, "She's arrogant, rude, surly, psychotic, selfish, greedy, and maybe masochistic like a gimp. Can you tell me?"

"It's..." Ty-Lee sighed as she tried to explain it to the Warden, "It's complicated, okay? Me and her go back, a long time before both of us fell to Chaos. We were friends for years... maybe even more than that. Please don't judge, Gift, it's just how I feel."

The Warden sighed and gave a nod.

"Ty-Lee!" The girl turned at Azula's shout in surprise, who was standing there in the doorframe of the temple, "Come! I don't like being kept waiting!"

"Okay!" Ty-Lee waved cheerfully, leaving Gift behind to gape before he merely gave a resigned sigh and trudged on.

"Oh, this is gonna be a long night."

Damesek

999.M42

The Uprising began in earnest after the third moon of the year, reinforcements from other eras and other dimensions were brought in to overwhelm the sabotaged PDFs of Molech, making them little more than an easily overwhelmed army. However, the Knight Houses proved near unbreakable despite Mandy's attempts to make them turn to her cause.

The Imperial Knights held their grown on the Western Marches, annihilating hordes of the Lost and Damned like they were little more than ants. However, they still needed reinforcements from the Imperium that were slowly arriving in droves, reinforcing the much-overwhelmed Imperials with soldiers and fire support. That combined with calls to Adeptus Astartes chapters, meant the conquest of Molech was slowing.

Such was the thoughts of a cultist fighting on the island of Damesek, a nobody who decided to stand back on his feet and fight back against the Imperium.

The cultist kept fighting and fighting, firing his gun into the Imperial lines even after his trigger finger became to grow numb. His legs slowly began to crack from the strain of constantly sight, yet he found himself burning brighter than before, renewed and continuing to fight along with the other followers of the Gods.

He had to save others from the tyranny of the Emperor and the Imperium. He couldn't save his family though, so he had to kill them to prevent them from being killed by the Imperium. The willingness to sacrifice what he held dear for the Gods made him worthy in the Chaos Cult's eyes. And as such, he used his newfound status to help Mandy lead the charge against the Corpse Emperor.

Despite that, he never found himself not enjoying killing. He never took joy in slaying Imperials, he never took joy in torture, he never took joy in sacrifice for the Dark Gods, and he never took joy in destroying the innocent.

The words of Argel Tal rang true to him, having heard it from a Dark Apostle: "I have never pretended to be anything but weak, Kharn. I don't enjoy war, yet I fight. I don't relish torture, yet I inflict it. I don't revere the gods, yet I serve their holy purpose. Humanity's weakest souls will always cling to the words 'I was just following orders'. They cower behind those words, making a virtue of their own weakness, lionising brutality over nobility. I know that when I die, I'll have lived my whole life shrouded by that same excuse."

The cultist shook his head, it was useless to feel regret now.

"Get to the stairs!" Their commander yelled as they reached the great halls of Damesek's great temples. Imperials followed down the spiraling staircase, firing down on him and his forces. Despite that, they held strong and fired back, sacrificing several hundred of their own to gain ground for their holy purpose. They kept rising ever higher as they pushed on, the Imperial felling a hundred of them for every life they claimed.

As they began to reach the precipice of the staircase, some feeling came over him. A feeling like the reaper himself was standing above them, readying his scythe to reap the crops of souls before him. With each step, time slowed. He looked around, wondering what could be the cause of this feeling. The Imperials were firing upon them with all their fury, their weapons seemingly burning up in their hands, seemingly like a blazing last stand of the Emperor's dream.

His eyes then locked onto the cause of the feeling.

An object, compact as a case of cosmetics, with a single red button was in the Imperial commander, an old stern man whose forehead was bleeding with his beard being stained and crusted. Seeing that he saw the object, the old man merely grinned and pressed the button.

The others seemed to understand what was happening, the reactions were mixed; some attempted to stop him from pressing it, others like him just ran for their pitiful lives.

"DUCK AND FUCKING COVER!" One cultist roared out as the others attempted to go into cover before the bomb went off, but it was too late.

A massive wave of fire and death washed over the others as he dived into another corridor for safety. The other cultists were reduced to bones and dust by the blast while he covered his head in terror.

More explosions came from various parts of the islands, screaming deaths blazed out like they were a mass sacrifice to the Dark Gods, burning away the taint on the island. A blast of boiling death raising the invading forces to the dust, bursts of flaming agony that rended the monuments of blasphemy, torrents of infernal onslaught that tore down their beasts from beyond.

He hid under the rubble of the halls that shielded him from the flames that washed over him with a feral primal presence. He waited until the blazing agony waves ceased and cooled, waiting still before the floors would not melt his skin from his bones. When the rending maw of fire dissipated, the cultist finally gained the half-hidden strength to push the marble cover wayward, revealing his ash and dirt covered form to the world...

Only for him to gape in palpable horror at the sight beyond through a massive gaping hole created from the blast.

Around him reigned only death, a bleak blast expanse where pyres fueled by the dead reigned along the rows of shattered and gutted buildings, unseen psychopomps that snatch fleeing souls for the feasts of horror things from beyond the veils of reality, and dark undulating masses of spirit sludge that the nightmares of the fanciful disgrace. The city was barely extant, hearing the last throes of life gasping out their final breaths, impossibly vast spires of rising smoke blacker than night itself, bodies lining the streets in rivers of death and decay, industrial sites groaning silently as they ceased under the breaking of their walls, and absurd lakes of ankle deep red ran in falls of blood.

The single sound was the washing waves that lapped against the shorelines, or perhaps the gentle whispers of the wind that ran free. He stared on, eyes wide and mouth agape, only drawing breath from the brain controlling such motions, the conscious mind grinding in shock at the sight of the flaming city. A bleeding sound then came as his eyes then snapped to his side.

It was one of the cultists, who had been rendered into an unrecognizable mulch, only the sternum and right arm remained as the face was flayed off with the skin suffered burns in the 4th degree, half ashen and blackened. The ribs and spine were terminated at the waist point where several organs had heaped before being boiled to slurry, the left arm ripped from its socket where the flesh had been seared and cauterized, the hand of the right arm barely resembled a prehensile paw with exposed phalanges and metacarpals with barely attached muscle and nerve fibers.

"Help... me... Help..." The thing drooled as blood, mucus, oils, and liquified organ mush exited its mouth before the death reaped its merciful scythe as it slumped to the cooled marble floors as he watched the life exit the body.

The cultist rigidly turned his gaze back to the city, taking in the sight of death's burning presence that scarred the island. Was there anyone left? The smell of decay and smoked flesh gave him his answer.

As he wondered, something drew his attention as his gaze rigidly began turning to as if entranced by.

The statue of the Emperor, the one erected only a few years after he ascended to the Golden Throne, standing unchallenged against the storms of horror things that relished in their screams and agony. It's composition a radiant and magnificent combination of gold and marble, sculpted as if from the angels in a great attempt to capture his grand visage.

He should have been disgusted by the sight of the Corpse Emperor, a belief affirmed to him through years of indoctrination and punishment for the contractions.

However... when he looked at the face of a statue of the Emperor, standing tall and proud even as it weathered the oncoming storm of blood and disease, something shifted in him, something that he thought he had purged from his body all those years ago, something that lingered in the darkest corners of his skull, giving off a faint almost irrelevant light.

He kept staring, almost like the face had been like the actual Emperor had come back to Molech after all these millennia. Despite his devotion to the Dark Gods, he still kept staring as a light seemed to blare down from its eyes like the sun. He soon felt a wetness running down his cheek, raising a hand and swiping it to reveal a tear washing the dirt covering his face.

Was he crying?

He couldn't remember when he last did.

It was still quiet save for his slightly ragged breathing, managing to tear his gaze from the statue and looking down at the stairs. The smell of the dead crept to his nostrils, seeing the dead Imperials and cultists littering the stairs with their rapidly clotting blood decorating the pure and cleaned marble in red. The faint sounds of gunshots, artillery bombardment, and screams confirmed to him that the others were attacking the other cities. Still, he felt the gaze of the statue boring into his head.

Reluctantly, he turned his gaze back to the statue, its gaze almost piercing through his head and into his soul. Something slowly began creeping up his spine, weighing him down to where he could no longer stand and fell to his knees.

He prays to the Dark Gods but the only thing that made him as he is now was his mind. His weak, pathetic mind. He knew his sins and he didn't care, continuing ever onwards down the dark path that he knew he would be trekking, but he never felt his sins.

But after the hazy cloud of Chaos left his eyes, he felt them all, weighing down on him more than his armor or weapons ever did.

And then he remembered why his family loved the Emperor all over again. He thought he saved them from an eternity of mindless worship, only for him to fall to that same mindless worship all along.

He wasn't a hero of some rebellion. He was the pawn of someone else's rebellion against the Imperium. He was nothing and he still is nothing.

He wanted the Emperor to erase him, and all trace of him. But he knew the Emperor wouldn't answer. He turned his head from the light, begging for some form of forgiveness. Something. Anything.

A pressure came against his skull, compelling him to look below.

The cultist turned to an autogun sitting at his knees, still loaded and ready to fire.

"Just... one last duty... to perform..."

He grasped the barrel in one hand and the stock in the other before letting it rest on his legs, letting a sniffle escape as his eyes watered again.

"Emperor, hear my plea, one last time."

The face of the statue still seemed to be looking at him, as if the Master of Mankind stared down at him again, hearing his plea.

"Forgive me." The man that was once a believer whispered before putting his autogun under his chin, "And forget me."

A single gunshot, followed by the slump of a body hitting the floor. Silence then followed as the Island of Damesek laid bare was bereft of life once more.

Lupercalia

999.M42

The reinforcements were a detriment Mandy was forced to admit, but they changed nothing, so long as she could get to the Warp Gate. Thankfully, her plan banked on Imperial forces being distracted by the masses of her forces attacking every city in Molech, which was entirely successful. However, what she hadn't anticipated was several Astartes chapters were rushing towards Molech. Her daemonic allies had told her that the High Lords had forcefully assigned several chapters to crush their attack on Molech.

The Emperor must have known about her plan and got the High Lords to act before her plan could take place.

Thankfully, she had the means of reaching the Warp Gate before any chapters could reach Molech. Slaanesh's greatest bounty hunter: Doomrider.

Doomrider's attire was composed of nothing but bandoliers filled with a variety of rounds and holsters filled with all kinds of exotic weaponry; ornamental guns and blades that were typical of the Slaaneshi taste. Underneath the formfitting back leather trenchcoat lined with bandoliers and holsters, his lower half was covered by black leather pants and jackboots lined with tightened belts, and his upper half was covered in a black leather shirt and vest with leather opera gloves lined with tightened belts.

His head was concealed by a black skull mask with forward facing horns and thick white tear track stripes, black lenses that hid his eyes, and the tips of his bleached white hair fluttering in the wing while the two rode on his Assault Bike through the areas between the cities, weaving through her hordes of cultists as the two advanced to Lupercalia while the others attacked the other cities.

Mandy was clinging to Doomrider as they sped across the Western Marches, her face covered in a Sororitas helm so that the dust doesn't get into her eyes, with its sensors giving her an estimate on the distance of Lupercalia from their current location. However, a stray bullet hit the helm earlier, so now it wasn't as useful as she needed it to be.

She was dressed in black leather pants and thigh high leather boots with stilettoes, a formfitting leather long sleeve shirt under a black leather duster with red accents and flame designs, and black gloves that covered her hands. Her long blond hair fluttering in the wind as Doomrider began picking up speed.

"How much farther until we reach the Warp Gate?" She called out to Doomrider over the bellowing winds, the speakers of the helm amplifying her voice enough for the bounty hunter to hear it. It seemed that it was enough as Doomrider pressed a button on the HUD of his Assault Bike, that projected the information into his helmet.

"200 miles!" Doomrider yelled back in his deep and filtered voice, "We should be there in 30 minutes!"

Mandy nodded; 30 minutes was more than enough time for her to enact her plans.

However, Tzeentch just couldn't control himself it seemed.

A flash came over the skies of Molech, blazing a veil of white over the planet and nearly blinding the others on both sides of the conflict. When the light receded, both sides uncovered their eyes, only to gape when they saw The Vengeful Spirit and an assortment of Chaos warships above the skies.

Doomrider stopped Unbound as he and Mandy stared at the sky, "What the hell is the Black Legion doing here?"

She knew. Abaddon knew of the prophecy and what it spelt for his power. So, he allied himself with the Red Corsairs and the other Warbands so that he'd slay her before she could go through the Warp Gate and gain her power. She had to hurry before Abaddon could use Drach'ynen to slay her.

"Keep going! We're running out of time!" Mandy yelled out to Doomrider, who snapped out of his shock and immediately sped off, leaving a trail of dust and debris behind.

However, even when the two sped back off, Drop Pods from the Crimson Slaughter immediately began fall from the skies, impacting the awaiting ground as dozens of cultists were squashed by the heavy machines. Astartes in blood red and gold trimmed armor exited the Drop Pods and began slaughtering anything they saw, regardless of whether they followed the gods or the Emperor.

"Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn!"

"Oh, great. That's back." Mandy sarcastically stated as she rolled her eyes, unafraid of the Khornates mimicking Kharn.

"DIE, QUEEN OF THE DAMNED!" One of the Crimson Slaughter screamed as he and his Battle Brothers charged headlong towards her and Doomrider.

Unfazed by the slaughterers charging at her, Mandy pulled out one of her custom Overture handcannons and fired six times, not at the oncoming hordes, but at the vacant ground in front of them. As each specialized bullet impacted, there was a burst of green vapour.

The hooktors bubbled into being. Six of them, each one twice the size of a large man, released from their bondage in the painstakingly engraved bullets.

They were slaughter-daemons of Nurgle, mindless warp-forms of immense physical power, each one a noxious, sticky cluster of diseased eyes, bulging from a swollen, panting body sack of reptile flesh and pulsing viscera. The hooktors moved on tripods of long, membranous limbs, like the furled wings of ancient flying lizards. Each limb culminated in a huge, hooked toenail, a hoof-claw as heavy and grey as stone.

They made their terrible gibbering. The wretched, faecal stink of them filled the air. Thumping forward on their hideous toenails, they attacked the Crimson Slaughter with unthinking frenzy.

"That'll buy us some time!" Mandy shouted at Doomrider, "Pour it on!"

Doomrider gave a howl of excitement as Unbound reached neck break speeds, almost like a spear of warpfire.

XXX

Minnie and Grim Jr. meanwhile were racing alongside Asmodeus, Gift, and Ty-Lee to Lupercalia as Slyte directed them to the quickest route to the Warp Gate. In the meantime, Plague Marines and Noise Marines were crushing their forces by the thousands, while the Crimson Slaughter and the Red Corsairs were decimating their rear lines, quickly approaching them in a mad dash towards the city of Lupercalia.

However, thankfully, Slyte proved to be more than powerful enough for keep them at bay.

Gift grasping his hat so that it wouldn't blow off his head while riding his daemonic mount, lashed his arm out as a stream of indigo resin shot out of his palm and engulfed the head of a Black Legionnaire that got too close, melting through and temporarily blinding the Astartes before a stream of lasbolts from the loyalists finished him off.

Azula and Ty-Lee both lashed out their hands at the Black Legion and the Red Corsairs unleashing a rain of hypnotic light and a stream of bulbous filth respectively at the Warbands and their mortal followers. The rain of lights cleaved through Astartes armor, and the stream of filth melted the flesh off the bones and rusted the armor of the unfortunate.

Asmodeus howled in excitement, his hot pink hair fluttering in the wind as he grabbed several activator cells from his coat and threw them at the ground in front of a group of Heretic Astartes. Suddenly, the ground erupted as a skinless giant emerged, possessing eyes on the shoulders, chest, and knees, plates of white bone on the back and head, a suppurating maggot-like mouth, clawed hands and feet, and a lashing tail. The golem roared as it fired beams of purple warp power, decimating enemy lines and knocking several Astartes back.

Doomrider twirled a Hecuter 10 in his hand before firing it into the hordes, homing in on several targets before detonating in orange and purple blasts that engulfed several hundred thousand cultists and Legionnaires. Suddenly, he swerved his bike around as he and Mandy raised their guns at a band of Khornates that were charging at them while screaming their heads off. The two fired a single bullet each from two Overture handcannons, at the ground in front of the hordes, black vapour bloomed, and several tendrils unfurled. The Queen and the Black Rider sped away as twin masses of tendrils and draconic maws attacked the Crimson Slaughter.

Minnie leaped in the air and clashed blades with a Black Legionnaire, her daemon sword Prophaniti being a burning royal purple. They broke then clash only for Minnie to be swifter than the Space Marine, slashing in an X shape before skidding to a halt behind the dark warrior. A second passed before the Black Legionnaire burst into violet-pink flames, only able to let out a scream as he was reduced to ash. Minnie twirled Prophaniti in her hand before sheathing it over her shoulder.

Grim Junior cleaved through several swaths of cultists with Adayusu, almost like a tornado of death as he folded the blade to a more compact shape before he cleaved the head of a Black Legionnaire off in a massive gush of blood. Hordes of cultists then roared out in a desperate attempt to end him, before Grim appeared behind them with his back facing them. They all had a moment to proceed before they all found themselves bursting apart in a bloody cleave, leaving them little more than stains on the ground.

The thing that wore Draen's body began warping it, the flesh flowing like liquid marble, the face burning away to reveal a blackened skull, the flesh of the arm burning to reveal a blackened skeletal arm with vast claw-like fingers, a red luminosity wearing his body like a robe, lighting his skin from within, exposing his skeleton like a medical scan.

With a thrust of its skeletal arm, massive torrents of orange Warp lighting rained down on the invading armies of the Chaos Warbands, reducing several hundred Heretic Astartes and Chaos Cultists to dust and ash. Millions of cultists on the side of the Warmaster were undeterred, charging in and screaming profanities at the Queen of the Damned.

Suddenly, Slyte let out a deafening roar that echoed for miles, stopping the advance of the invading armies. Abruptly, the ground cracked up and split open before swarms of lobster sized insects erupted from the fissures, screeching out that drowned all sounds in the area, including the screams of the those who were stripped to the bone by the eaters.

Before any of them could react, a series of blasts burst out, Asmodeus and Gift both covered their eyes as a refractory field shielded the both of them while Azula and Ty-Lee were shielded by a dome of warp power, while Grim and her were caught in the blast. Blinding and mindnumbing pain washed over both as they were engulfed in blistering heat by Heretic armaments.

Drunk on the endorphins produced to cope with her agony, Minerva blinked and looked up. The energised wind was shrieking around the outer walls of Lupercalia, and flames were gusting up the sacristy walls and ancient, precious frescoes, reducing several thousands of screaming and terrified meatbags to billowing particles of glowing ash.

The light was red, not just from the flames, but from the energy radiating from the centre of the platform on Gift's baneblade. What had been white and pure was now crimson and thick. She tried to move, but her body was too badly hurt. Bones broken, internal organs flaring with pain, her skin burnt to where her Traitor Stormtrooper armor was seared into it, boiling blood weeping out from welts in her flesh.

"Oh, by the Gods— ahh! Gods!" She gasped out in agony. She turned her head and saw the splattered gore and torn flesh of hook-nailed daemon-things covering the ground as a blindingly fast object sped past her. What the hell had happened while she had been—

Draen stood over her. Minerva screamed.

It wasn't Draen. It was a red luminosity wearing his body like a robe, lighting his skin from within, exposing his skeleton like a medical scan. His right arm was denuded to the blackened bones, right up to the place where the Hinterlight's medicae had surgically reattached it.

"Oh, by the Gods! Oh, by the gods!" she cried out, terrified. The glowing daemon began to reach its taloned hand out towards her.

"Please, Slyte Please, don't!" she wailed out in blinding terror.

The clawed finger touched her singed forehead, and suddenly, instead of agony, waves of relief washed over her as she felt her flesh mended along with her armor, burnt skin peeling off her face as bristles regrew into her short blond hair. Letting out a cough after the pain subsided, the girl stood back up while using her sword Prophaniti as a cane for her to lean on.

It was then that she saw the state of her brother, and despite her experience in killing hundreds of thousands, she couldn't help but scream when she saw his burnt form.

Both eyes were burnt out, the seared skin peeled from his lips and nose, his hair scorched off his scalp, blood spilling from between his teeth as he groaned in agony and terror. His clothes had seared to his skin, oily fluids and tears dotting the surfaces, his torso burst open with organs splayed out and blood spilling out, parts of him still ablaze and burning with the smell of burning leather sulfating the air.

Minnie looked like she wanted to vomit at seeing her brother in such a state as that, almost like she cared deeper than that. Thankfully, Slyte merely did the same, touching his forehead with a single talon as she watched her brother's wounds vanish in waves of blood red, seeing both his clothing and flesh mend at the Daemon's touch.

The second his face grew back, Grim started coughing up a storm before his organs slithered back into his chest cavity and then sealed up, letting him attempt to stand back up as the last of his injuries faded. Slyte didn't give an explanation for this but neither had it in them to complain or question the daemonhost.

"That... was the worst thing that ever happened to me." Grim replied as she helped him to his feet, leaning against her to support himself.

"Same." Minerva replied as they limped away while Slyte held off the hordes of cultists, loyalists, and Astartes that attacked with extreme prejudice. But neither seemed worried when they saw the daemonhost cleave a Plague Marine in half with but the swipe of his claws. Using this opportunity to hurry to their destination, the siblings quickly limped off to Gift's mount.

XXX

The siblings quickly got to their destination; an open space showing a massive entrance to what appeared to be a mine, but the internal parts were lined in metal plates and a tram system that spanned presumably to the destination where the Warp Gate laid. The others, unknowing of the prize beneath their feet, paid it no heed and kept attacking the monsters throwing themselves against the walls.

Thankfully, their mother, Asmodeus, Gift, Zim, and Azula were there with them and a squad of her elite soldiers while Ty-Lee stayed behind to direct the daemons of Nurgle under her control to assist Slyte who was doing his damnest to keep Abaddon's armies at bay. Doomrider was leading the Noise Marines under Mandy's command against the Black Legion.

Despite that, the others couldn't help but be surprised that there was a tunnel that led to the Warp Gate with Gift asking the question they were all thinking, "My queen, how was this built?"

"This tunnel was secretly made by several of Imperial officials under my payroll." Mandy explained to her general, "I told them that it would be of great importance to the wider wholes of the Imperium. That and I lied to the excavators that it would lead to immense profit."

"Money buys everything it seems." Asmodeus deadpanned, earning an eye roll from Mandy.

Suddenly, an explosion drew all their attention as they saw several of Abaddon's hordes charging headlong towards them, blasting through the Queen's monsters and madmen like they were little more than knifes through butter. Slyte was the only one of their minions that seemed to be holding their own, unleashing blasts of energized wind that reduced several Astartes regardless of power or skill to glowing ash, but even this barely slowed the hordes down.

Annoyed at their determination, the Queen decided that it was time to reveal her trump card.

"It seems your time is now, Slyte." Mandy said as she glared at the scores of the Warbands that had come to stop her reign from beginning. She extended her arm and fired a single bolt of lightning, spearing through the vast miles where it floated, at the necklace of charms that kept Slyte restrained.

Suddenly, it was like everything stopped. Like the Warp itself had been choked by that simple action. The charms burnt away like the burning pedals of roses, falling from the body's neck, and hitting the ground with a small, barely audible thud.

And then, the change truly happened.

The body roared as the liquid marble skin slowly swirled before a blackness began to spread from the forehead to the rest of the body, slowly smothering the features to where it was merely a humanoid shape composed of a black viscous liquid. Then the shape began to bulge and distort, growing as its humanoid shape dissolved into a series of tentacles that rapidly began expanding and spreading.

Mandy and her followers quickly fled into the tunnel before the growing infernal thing consumed them in its bulk. Some of the warbands were not so lucky even as they fled to the back lines of their formations to escape from the daemon's massive bulk, black mist exhaled from forming maws of daemon teeth, swarms of lobster sized insects and flies coming from every direction.

The daemon was a massive mountain of filthy wet black flesh, towering over the city that witnessed it in the distance. Mottled, lumpen tentacles reached out, flapping and snaking, from the gigantic mass. Some ended in sucker mouths, foul beaks of clear cartilage that snapped and yawned. Others were tipped by what looked like grasping human fingers. Vast, oozing orifices opened and closed between the roots of the whipping tentacles, and black-tipped transparent teeth, like giant quills, interlaced and clattered. Fetid gases exhaled through the pulsing orifices. The daemon-bulk stank of spoiled meat and disease, a menagerie of putrefied horrors that all began pouring out into realspace.

One of Slyte's mouths exhaled a torrent of warpfire that scoured a band of the Crimson Slaughter that attempted to get close. Another exhaled a spear of warp lightning that pierced through a corrupted battle barge and killing all Astartes inside it. Another exhaled a warship sized swarm of black lobster-sized insects that immediately sick themselves on the hordes of cultists, stripping the flesh off millions to their skeletons that then collapsed to the ground.

Swathes of black clouds began forming over Slyte's mountainous bulk, thundering as the world shook from Slyte's power and roared out in terror. Tentacles covered in oily fluids and filth lashed out towards the enemies around it, cleaving through swathes of landscapes with its ever-expanding bulk, killing millions in an instant.

Suffice to say, Mandy's followers were rather shocked at the power of the King of Worms.

"Relax." Mandy tried to calm her followers as the storm formed from Slyte's presence began to rain down vast bolts of orange lightning down upon their enemies, "So long as Slyte is distracted by our enemies, we'll be fine. Now come, we're running out of time."

"Looks like you're coming with after all, Ty." Gift commended as the Nurglite skipped down the stairs to the tram platform as the plasteel doors closed behind them, sealing them off from the King of Worms' immense power. Mandy quickly placed dozens of hexagrammid wards on the sealed entrance to stop Slyte's influence from slithering into the tunnel.

"Those wards will stall the corruption, but they won't stand long against Slyte's power." Mandy calmly said as she boarded the platform, beckoning the others with a wave of her hand. The other nodded before they quickly got underground before Slyte's deadly presence affected them.

And with a pull of a red lever, the platform began moving down the tunnel towards the Warp Gate.

The platform sped down the tunnel as several gates parted in a series of interlocking and intersecting parts that retreated into the walls, letting them pass without any pause or wait. As they reached closer to the Warp Gate, Mandy could barely contain her excitement, almost like a child on Christmas eve back in her home universe, appearing calm externally but giddy as a kid internally.

After 2,000 years of planning, manipulating, gaining immortality and powers beyond her imagination, sacrificing dozens of her children to the Dark Gods, making pacts with daemons and the gods, building up her power to where she nearly rivaled the Black Legion, all she needed now was to enter the Warp Gate and ultimate power would be hers!

And then... not even the Emperor could stop her from conquering the multiverse.

Letting a smirk be the only sign of her excitement, Mandy looked to her followers. Minerva and Grim were both calm but their eyes showed nervousness. Asmodeus seemed merely bored, leaning against the railing with a barely interested expression even as his hair and long coat fluttered in the wind from their speed. Zim merely did calculations mentally, giving off an air of apathy that hid his nervousness. Gift remained stoic and professional, put having to keep a hand on his peak cap so it isn't blown away. Azula had somewhat of an air of trepidation, knowing the currents of the Warp because of her nature as a Daemon Prince. Ty-Lee was the same, but both her and Azula hid it well.

The smirk became slightly bigger when she realized that none of them know the full extent of her plans. But she would let them be in the dark for now. When the time was right, they would all bow to her, even that bastard Black Hat.

Several minutes later, their journey ended when the platform stopped at another station, this one surrounded by excavation equipment, tables holding blueprints, Vox hailers, and other tools, catwalks and stairs that surrounded the walls with thick adamantium doors bearing the Imperial Aquila closing off the route that led to the Warp Gate. All she did was motion for Grim to go to the metallic grey control booth above them and the loyal boy nodded before running up the stairs.

A few minutes later, klaxons blared as the grind of gears echoed through the air, the adamantium doors slowly opening with the hiss of steam and pressurized gases, revealing the passage to the Warp Gate.

"Dramatic. I like it." Asmodeus commented, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Gift.

"Take this seriously." The pseudo-general scolded, receiving an eyeroll from the mad scientist.

"Enough banter. Let's go." Mandy stated impatiently, wanting to get her power as soon as possible, "My elites will stay and guard the entrance. Kill anything that comes through that tunnel!" Her elites saluted her, before she began walking down the stairs at a rather hurried pace as her children and the others followed.

Both men blinked before the scientist asked the general, "What crawled up her ass?" Gift only shrugged before the two followed her and the others down the stairs.

XXX

They traveled down another tunnel but one mercifully shorter than the other as it was only a three-minute walk before they reached an elusive expanse that bore a fleeting resemblance to the old caverns of an earth gone by. The terrors of older standing dating beyond the body slithered through the murky cracks that befell this area, rotten briar borders lined the stone walls from fifty millennia ago, a clearness free of dust and crumbling infrastructure, skeletal remains of woeful fates too horrible to speak melded into the walls and arched entrance of the destination's presence.

Inside the woeful chamber was an expanse that rounded around the object of Mandy's interest. Surrounding it was a tumultuous collection of stonework forms so inhumanly crafted they could never be craved by material hands, either masses of pseudopods, oculars, chiropteran wings, and inhuman maws, the pedestals under them resembling collections of weaving tendrils, the ground unnaturally smooth in the resemblance of polished glass and lined with many curious prophecies about tremendous power and unnamable futures.

Before them was a circular stone frame lined with text of a long dead species, four circles doted the northwest, northeast, southwest, and southeast positions that held the symbols of the Four Dark Ones. The Warp Gate seemed to be little more than an over decorated and opulent gate, having a lusterless black gateway that was blacker than the darkest void. It was almost like something created and abandoned by things that sought to stare into the abyss of the Immaterium... and backed away in horror at their creation.

In front of the stonework gate was a stone dais that possessed a hole in the shape of a handprint surrounded by lines of runescript, seemingly of a metallic composite rather than the stone brilliance that surrounded the area it resided.

"Creepy." Grim Junior said as he wearily avoided a spear tip wielded by one of the stone forms.

"Amazing." Azula breathed, the artist part of herself amazed by the detail of these sculptures.

Zim raised whatever his species' equivalent of an eyebrow was as he knelt down, brushing his claws against the lines of ancient text, putting one claw to his chin as he spoke out, "I believe I can give a translation." Asmodeus knelt down beside him, deciding to fact check his translation.

"'Standing before the Gate of the Empyrean, the Formless eternally guard the sacred Ways, unbreakable and immovable until the day the Chosen of the Gods comes, and they will rend the universe for time without end.'" Zim translated to an interested Mandy and her followers, the former having a surprised look on her face.

"Checks out." Asmodeus says before he reaches into his robes and pulled out several parchments, handing some to Zim as both began to think of how the ritual should work now.

"Are you sure this will work?" Mandy demanded from both Asmodeus and Zim who were still comparing their notes before one of them confirmed.

"Well, according to all our notes, it should. All you have to do is walk up to that dais and give it a sample of blood. Then you should be golden." Asmodeus said pointing to the dais that still stood there innocently.

She blinked, surprised for once at the simplicity, "That's it?" She honestly expected something much more climactic than just giving the Gate a sample of her blood.

"My Queen, have you ever wondered why you don't resemble a thing swallowed in tentacles because Tzeentch wanted a laugh?" Zim inquired from her, causing her to give a confused look before she nodded to make him continue, "Any mutation you acquire quickly atrophies and is reabsorbed due to your immortality. Your blood meanwhile is a veritable hive of Chaos energy and mutations only kept at bay again due to your immortality."

"And do you still have the Marks of the Four Gods?"

Mandy merely removed her coat and then then pulled back the sleeve on her arm, showing the Marks of Tzeentch, Nurgle, Khorne, and Slaanesh.

"Then that means every other condition of the ritual is complete." Asmodeus continued, "All you have to do is place your hand on the print and then bam, it should do the rest."

The Queen blinked, looking at the Marks on her arm, thinking of the moments she conquered test after test the Gods threw at her. Now that she had conquered them all, and gotten here to where the Emperor and Horus had obtained their godly power, it was her time.

"Alright," Mandy accepted it, before turning to the still serene Warp Gate, "Everyone get back. I don't know what's gonna happen when it's done."

The others nodded and quickly got back to the tunnel before she began the ritual, Asmodeus grabbing her discarded coat before he ran to the entrance. Taking a breath, Mandy slowly walked, brushing past the stone visages of the Formless, and climbing to the dais. She stared at the empty gate that seemed to stare back, awaiting her decision.

She looked back at her children, who stared on, nodding at her to do it. A small smile came across her face, before she turned back at the Gate.

Exhaling with trembling excitement, Mandy raised her hand and slowly pressed it down onto the handprint.

Suddenly, it was like the print shifted itself to her hand's shape, fitting perfectly before a small needle pricked her finger. She didn't even flinch, removing her hand when the print began to glow bright red. A trail of red slithered through the lines, lighting them up as the red lines soon flowed down the dais and trailed into the stone frame of the Warp Gate. Suddenly, a shot of agony flared in her arm, causing Mandy to grunt in pain and grasp her arm.

Warp tendrils of red, blue, green, and pink coiled around her arm before they lashed out towards the stone frame, impaling four circles and slithering in, becoming the Marks of the Gods burning brightly. The earth around them began to shake from the power being exuded from the Warp Gate. White replaced blackness in the gate as it spiraled and swirled out of control.

The portal to the Realm of Chaos began to form as the Queen and their followers braced themselves as the wind began to pick up, seemingly as a typhoon in terms of power and ferocity. A gasp escaped through her throat as Mandy stared through the gate, the vastness before her eyes stretching into an eternity.

It was incomprehensible, indescribable, unfathomable. It was everything and nothing. It was ambition, violence, fear, and sadism. It was Chaos and it was before her.

"By the Gods... IT'S FULL OF STARS!" Mandy cried out, having a genuinely terrified expression upon her face as she instinctively backed away.

Suddenly, the Warp Gate roared out, sending all except the Queen away in a blast of teal shaded white. Before she could react, teal tendrils slithered from the gate before lashing out and wrapping around her arms and legs.

The Queen let out a yell of horror, trying to pull away only for another series of tendrils to wrap around her waist and begin to drag her into the Gate.

"MOTHER!" Grim Junior and Minimandy yelled out, but were held back by Gift and Azula respectively, who stared on in both fear and awe. Zim and Ty-Lee stared on in awe and wonder, seeing glimpses of the Warp at the Crystal Labyrinth and the Garden of Nurgle. Asmodeus was grinning, all of his hot pink teeth revealed to all before he began howling in a mad glee that barely echoed in the chamber.

Unable to escape the grip of the tendrils, Mandy only screamed as she was dragged into the Warp Gate. Suddenly, everything stopped as the Gate suddenly calmed after consuming the Queen, leaving Mandy's children and her followers slackjawed at what had just occurred.

"W-What just happened?!" Minnie blurted out, her hands to her mouth in shock as Azula let her go, as did Gift with Grim Junior, letting the siblings see the calmed Warp Gate with the Formless still petrified and still.

"I... think it worked." Asmodeus replied dusting himself off as he and the others stared at the Warp Gate, which had now become placid, spiraling and reforming calmly in the confines of realspace.

"W-What now?" Ty-Lee spoke for what felt like the first time in years.

"Now?" Grim questioned, looking at the calm and peaceful Warp Gate, "We wait, I guess."

A year.

Its something that is both considered a large length of time and a short length of time depending on who you ask and how you go about asking them. The answer will vary as the scenario you present can do so as well. However no matter the answer a year can be an extremely long amount of time. In fact, anything can be seen as something unseemly long. It's all a matter of perspective that dictates the size of something no matter how what it is.

Breaking down a year it gets large and large the farther you go down the measurements of time.

12 months

52 weeks

365 days

8760 hours

525600 minutes

31,536,000 seconds

Of course, while the last one is the same as all the others before it and after it. No one really goes about truly experiencing time for the perspective of seconds.

However, that exactly how Mandy has spent this last year of her life as she been fully conscious and aware without moments rest. There was no sleep, no zone out, nothing to distract her. She was always up and always knowing exactly what was happening during every single second that past. Though for six decades while her consciousness was an endless state of awareness it was after this 'test' that was being conducted that she was truly one with the Warp itself.

This feeling of oneness that was all consuming during the first half of the years would have continued onward to the point where Mandy would not even be aware that her consciousness had joined with the Warp itself and became part of it, her thoughts and feelings feeding the gods as she was laid to rest like all those unworthy. Part of the plane they were living among as the emotions were not just that, but they were alive in their own sense. They had consciousness all their own that differ from what even the daemons knew. The daemons were not the actual manifestation of the Gods itself but merely an aspect of something that failed to become a true being but somehow formed to the Gods in a new self as a construct. Having a full aspect of that emotion but not truly being it.

Before something like this could even start to happen to Mandy, she learned not to go against the flow but sail along on top of it, like she was floating on top of constantly moving sea. Adrift in something that was never ending able to experience everything with all her senses even her sight. There were more ways to see something than merely literally with one's eyes. The Gods and Black Hat saw her as the few of those worthy of The Undivided, and she was not one to back from such a thing as great power. Going through this test she was being put through she was learning from the true master the very Warp itself as she absorbed everything it had to teach her without becoming consumed by it.

Forever feeling these powers of those consumed by them, Mandy knew what they truly meant.

Tzeentch, the will of time and fate incarnate. His maze, a menagerie of warping creatures and structures, exploring all potential thoughts and ideas of intellect and form. Each change neither benevolent or malevolent, just one of his curiosities made form and life. Each manipulation of material and immaterial, a forethoughted weave in Tzeentch's neverending tapestries of plans. The embodiment of malicious schemes, yet also the embodiment of those who save others from malicious schemes. He is the beacon of progress and hope.

Nurgle, the one who guides the growth and rot of all things living. His garden, a forest of plague, rot, and repugnance, yet also one of growth, of birth, and of lavishness. The pain and agony were not a punishment but a lesson, that pain is life's work, it's process of strengthening yet rotting. The comfort in the inevitable death and decay of all things, even as they die and are reborn into new. The jolly behavior of his children and grandchildren is them accepting the inevitabilities yet also them appreciating the uplifting qualities. Whereas the Changer of Ways means to improve, the Plague Father means to accept.

Khorne, the embodiment of strength and skill. His domain, a battlefield of slaughter and rage, an endless tide of death and dismemberment, geysers of blood, entrails and body parts strewn in abandon or as decorations of armor. Yet it is not mindless, it uproots the weeds of the horde, letting those who survive grow in strength as is the natural order: "Survival of the fittest." But strength is nothing without honor, backstabbing and treachery is punishable by death as it shows the one who's strength is a waste. Each drop of blood an offering for the Blood God, each severed head a brick for the Skull Throne.

Slaanesh, the master of pride and pleasure. His palace, a festival of excess and decadence, filled with explorers of depraved pleasures willing to go unthinkable lengths for amusement. But with the pleasures, comes freedom to do what one will to whom they will, free to indulge on what satisfies or induces joy, free to live as they see fit, as long as they are loyal. To enjoy the greatest of pleasures is to enjoy pain and suffering of oneself and of others, yet free is one to choose the desires they crave. Whereas the Blood God means to lust for slaughter, the Prince of Pleasure means to lust for luxury.

Mandy had such experiences with the four gods, each experience ending with her embracing a part of herself she normally would have repressed as her very being was unquenched in each of them, along with her discovering who'd she be if she'd chose just one.

If she'd chosen Tzeentch, she'd be a mass of everchanging flesh able to take whatever form she pleased, whether it be an alluring woman or a true monster, each change would come when so Tzeentch pleased. Yet she would know things the scientists on her planet would take millions of years to discover, she could experiment with her morphing body, she could be at his many students as they watch with the wonders of the multiverse, become one of his scholars and join in his myriad of plans.

If she'd chosen Nurgle, she'd be infested every aliment and disease ever to exist whilst rotting and mutating, all kinds of disgusting fluids and squirming maggots inside of her, her skin an ocean of sores, blisters, and boils. Yet she would be filled with an unending contentment, all the bitterness and stoicism would be washed away with her new self being outgoing and cheerful, something that those who knew her, herself included, never thought possible. She'd have something that she may or may not have wanted: a place where she belonged.

If she'd chose Khorne, she'd be a crimson berserker with demonic features that gave her rage and strength beyond her every dream, laying waste to many armies, lusting for dismemberment and disembowelment of her enemies and allies alike. Yet she would be held with a sense of honor that would come with her strength, those that cheated or backstabbed would be the focus of her rage as they were unworthy of the strength Khorne gave. She would lead legions into eternal war and slaughter for the Blood God.

If she'd chosen Slaanesh, she'd be a pure childish harlot with pink skin and an insanely developed figure, a lust for all things she doesn't have, constantly fucking or killing, pumping herself full of potent drugs and drinks that would kill any normal one, and tearing herself apart in pleasured agony. Yet she was free to choose if she was this harlot, free to choose how she destroyed herself, free to choose how she appeared to others, free to choose who she was and what she wanted. She would sing with the Prince of Pleasure.

Even to the minor Gods had their importance.

Malice, the God of Destruction. Destruction burns away forest, levels landscapes, collapses buildings, and ruins oneself. Yet destruction is a necessity, a part of the cycle of life, through destruction comes the will to be stronger, to build against the disasters yet to come. Everything relies on a continuing cycle of destruction and reconstruction. Even to the most pathetic of individuals rely on this cycle, one must have moments of regret, self-loathing, and self-destruction to gain resistance against those moments. Destruction is a cruel yet very effective teacher.

Stromfels, the God of the Ocean. The ocean is such a virulent yet wonderous thing. In the upper parts filled with light, there by the most wonderous of sights, coral of such vibrancy, strange yet mostly handleably creatures, an underwater desert spanning beyond sights. In the lower parts filled with dark, there are creatures vibrant like the stars in the night. The ocean is source of food and travel, to embrace the ocean, is to embrace the excitement that comes with it.

Hashut, the God of Blacksmithing. Innovation is a peculiar concept. It can build yet it can take, it can birth hope yet it can birth greed, it can ease the weights of lives or can amplify them. Innovation was birthed after the apes that would become man learned to use sticks and stones to puncture flesh and break bones, to men who heated and hammered metal into blades and armor, to the armsmen that created the first rifles.

Necoho, the Unbeliever. What is Atheism but another word for belief? What is a Nonbeliever but another word for Doubter? Unbelief and Doubt are needed when presented that defies the lines of belief and acceptance, when the mainline of our views is challenged. For what is belief when no one questions the savior? And what is assurance when no one doubts a miracle?

The Hanged King, the King in Rags and Tatters. Insanity is less an emotion and more a state of mind. Insanity is a broken cog in a machine, something that most saw as undesirable, but when one can find use for a broken cog. Insanity breaks the veil reality had control over the individual, bringing out their uniqueness and allowing them to express themselves like never before. Insanity was the emergency exit to a reality that hates.

The Great Horned Rat, king of the Skaven. Fear is nothing new to anything, everything experiences the feeling of fear. Whether it be rational, irrational, or instinctual, fear is the oldest emotion of life. Many go to lengths that would rival even the hedonists of Slaanesh to avoid or extinguish fear, but fear removes the restrictions, erodes the chains of self control, allowing the primal instincts that humanity buried under their desire for peace and civility. Fear was the first and greatest emotion of mankind.

These were the burning truths that she was learning about the Warp at its very core and how this was making her not just a Chosen of the Gods but a true Chosen of the Gods, possessing powers that made the Despoiler's, even with his greatest feats, looks as if they were merely playing around like a small child. Power was something that the Chosen of The Gods realizes belongs to them and them alone. The Chosen of the Gods is a being that beyond merely a daemon prince for they are a part of the Warp and it was basically self-harm for her to go against the Gods' will.

And so exactly one year after her test had started, Mandy had managed to past and had become a true Chosen. With that, she was able to ascend beyond the norms of a mere daemon and to the heights of the Dark Master himself.

Miranda White was dead; There was only the Queen of Daemons.

Molech

Lupercalia

999.M42

However, for Mandy's followers, it was only three minutes after she was dragged into the Warp Gate. To her however, it had been a thousand years after she had long ascended, staying to increase her power even more. And in those thousand years, she played Tzeentch's game and decided to reveal the greatest card she had yet to play against the Anathema. Suddenly, the Warp Gate erupted in a blaze of black and red, creating a massive quake that shook both the underground and the city above, causing several to lose their footing.

The Formless stonework began cracking, a black viscous substance spilling through, something tensing and undulating beneath.

"Let's get out of here!" Ty-Lee screamed as all of them wasted no time in sprinting for the exit.

Just as they exited, the stone broke apart, revealing the black tar that was the Formless. Each mass of blackness forced themselves to take shape, white skeletal markings covering them regardless of shape or size, surrounding the Warp Gate even as it began to come apart at the seams.

The Formless then bowed as something emerged from the Gate.

It was a vaguely humanoid thing composed of black roiling smoke with tints of red, long thin arms terminating in long clawed fingers, a head with burning red eyes and a pair of upward facing horns. She raised her arms to where the sky would have been, a sound akin to a laugh ringing out like the bells of the apocalypse to come.

XXX

Above the planet, the Herald of Ynnead felt her throat close, feeling the Sea of Souls birth something more horrible than She Who Thirsts. She fell to her knee, her expression frozen in terror as she struggled to breath, feeling Kha-vir slip from her fingers and clang against the metal floor. She didn't care that it earned the attention of Guilliman and Greyfax.

"Yvraine? What is wrong?" Roboute gently nudged her shoulders to get her attention, Alorynis coming close to their master in concern when she remained nearly catatonic, "Can you hear me, Yvraine? YVRAINE!"

Suddenly, a sound like reality splintering echoed out through the depths of the void, causing everyone on the bridge to the void... only to balk in horror.

Beyond them was a massive tide of crimson ethereal crashing towards them seemingly the size of several small planets drowning out the blackness of the void. A symphony of agony and torment, echoing even in the vacuum of the void, as several Imperial and Traitor warships moved in a desperate attempt not to be caught in the tide of warpdeath.

If one focused on the tide for long enough, they would see eyeless and lipless faces with grasping hands dotting the tides, both forming and unforming at random intervals, their screams for mercy and release having no sound or joining the chorus of madness. They all began converging, slithering through the infinite nothing as their tendrils slowly began brushing against the atmosphere of Molech.

"What... What is this?" Inquistior Greyfax inquired with a horrified tone, the calm composure she built as an inquisitor shattered at the sight of this abomination of warpcraft.

"It's a storm..." Yvraine said with a horrified expression as her eyes grew wide with the sight of the tide of dead, earning the attention of the Primarch and the Inquisitor, "A storm of souls..."

XXX

Above the ground, Slyte roared out as a blast of red erupted from Lupercalia, ripping apart the landscape as something emerged from the underground. Several Astartes and cultists covered their eyes, before uncovering them when the dust finally, settled. Mandy's followers including the ones that followed her to the Warp Gate saw the end result of all their years of planning and wars... and it terrified them.

A massive shape erupted out, resembling a vaguely humanoid form with massive flaring wings, burning crimson eyes, and upward facing horns, seemingly a mass of black etherium that swallowed the light in an endless storm of shadow and death the size of a veritable Hive City. Above, the storm of souls was now visible to all, circling above her as their cacophony of undeadly agony reached a harrowing climax.

Suddenly, the storm of souls funneled towards her as her head took an oblong shape like the opening of a maw, a million fang-like protrusions and an endless pit of a mouth. The storm swam down her gaseous throat, absorbed into her being in a maelstrom of agony, growing to truly staggering heights as she devoured billions and billions of souls from differing corners of the Imperium.

As the Queen continued to glut herself on the storm, around the onlookers were patches of moving darkness, unnatural mists boiling with flickering images, half-transparent figures that cast no shadow, and a host of other forms. Soon, pools of viscous black tar began forming around the feet of several watching Black Legionnaires. One of them noticed the forming tar pools and slowly backed away, gaining a curious expression as he slightly prodded it with his corrupted power sword. Suddenly, several tendrils formed from the dark pools as coiled around the tip of the blade, causing the legionnaire to flinch his blade back at its touch.

More and more, shapes began forming from the black pools, white marks appearing, shapes turning and slithering through the shocked and confused ranks of the Black Legion and the Lost and Damned before they came to the ruined walls of Lupercalia, where the defenders and attackers stood in its ceremony ruins while staring at her form in awe and terror.

The Formless then bent whatever they had for knees for the Queen who continued to ravenously devour the ethereal storm, growing to nearly the size of a burgeoning country as the Imperial and heretic forces began fleeing, lest they be crushed under the weight of her growing form. Mandy's children took inspiration and quickly got on Gift's baneblade or in the case of Asmodeus got on Doomrider's Assault Bike.

"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." One of her followers quoted the Bible as they saw their Queen glutting herself on the storm of souls, "Revelation 6:7-8."

The last of the soulstorm was devoured by the now 14-mile-high mountain of black ethereal, before a blast of red erupted and the mountain became another storm, this one of blackness than souls. The storm then slowly condensed and condensed, leaving the skies of Molech crimson as blood until it was the size and shape of an adult woman with twin red eyes.

In the language of daemon, Slyte mused as his tentacles weaved into a pseudo throne for her, "So, you finally made it. You damned woman."

Amused at Slyte's offer, Mandy sat on the throne of tentacles, surveying the planet as the traitor forces, regardless of loyalty, bowed to her magnificence. Even those aligned with the Greatfather, the Changer of Ways, the Blood God, or Prince of Pleasure. Conjuring a ball of crimson flames in her hand like it was as simple as snapping her fingers, Mandy would have grinned madly if she had a mouth.

Dispersing it, Mandy stood up, making her proclamation to the hordes in front of her.

"I AM THE QUEEN OF DAEMONS." All voices were silenced at her proclamation, "I ROSE FROM THE DIRT OF MORTALITY AND ASCENDED BEYONG HUMAN, BEYOND DAEMON! I REACHED INTO THE WARP AND GRABBED POWER FROM THE GODS! I WILL OBLITERATE THE IMPERIUM'S LIVING MEMORY! I WILL TEAR DOWN TERRA STONE BY STONE UNTIL NOT EVEN DUST REMAINS! I WILL THROW THE ROTTING CARCASS OF THE EMPEROR FROM HIS THRONE AND BURN HIM UNTIL HE NOT EVEN A MEMORY! I AM THE TRUE DARK MASTER! AND I SAY-"

Her arms splayed wide, letting all see the Eye of Terror in all its horrible glory. A reckoning was coming, one so terrible it could not be translated into words. One that wound drown out the rage of the Despoiler and the Arch-Traitor. One that would rend the Imperium until it could never be rebuilt again.

"ABANDON ALL HOPE!" Mandy roared out to the heavens above and the hells below, "EMBRACE ALL CHAOS!" She threw her head back and laughed. A laugh more akin to the bells of the apocalypse, a typhoon of horror and strife, a blast of nightmares and cacophonies. All knew fear, all knew horror, and she was both, now and forever more.

Blasts of Warp power dotted the planets as endless hordes of daemons erupted out from rifts, swarming nearly every inch and overwhelming every remaining loyalist defense, some going down easier than others. The Formless and warp predators began cheering and sing horrible praises to their Queen, who basked in their praises that fueled her already gigantic ego.

Suddenly, a golden light raged through the darkness, causing the newly ascended queen to cover her eyes before she saw who it was.

It was the Emperor of Mankind.

Or perhaps at least an avatar of him; a massive, armored figure with a flaming golden sword that destroyed millions of daemons with but its presence, the face a roar of fury with flaming eyes of beaming white, surrounded by a corona of gold and an aura of holy death. Behind him were his Living Saints; Saint Celestine, Saint Sabbat, Saint Anasis, Saint Drusis, Saint Lozepath, Saint Nixia, Saint Othis, Saint Mathieu, and finally Saint Gerstahl. Behind the Living Saints was a swarm of His Angyls, lithe armored humanoids that neither looked masculine or feminine with golden angelic wings that burned with holy might, descending down in a tidal wave of gold with flaming blades and spears as they brought holy wrath upon the Queen's Dark Hordes. And behind the Angyls was the Legion of the Damned, the black skeletal flaming Astartes in their unholy glory as flaming bolters fired with screams of rage and hate at the Formless.

The Emperor roared as he raised his sword to the air before bringing it down like a guillotine that cleaved through Slyte, who screeched out in agony before it was reduced to ash in a blaze of gold, destroyed utterly to barely reform in the Warp. Before any could react, the Emperor raised his sword and roared out, impaling Mandy through the chest and ramming her into the ground, splitting the earth into an abyssal cavern.

Mandy screamed out as the holy flames scorched her ethereal form when suddenly, she was enveloped by an explosion of bright red flames that send the Emperor back, with her shadowy and wispy figure visible in the center. The figure suddenly began extending in height, thickening and reshaping into a monstrous visage fit for the Queen of Daemons. The flames faded to reveal her new monstrous form to the Emperor.

Mandy's form had grown nearly to the size of the Emperor's size, her face covered by a stone colored mask with six burning red eyes and her hair now twin forward facing crimson horns. Her armor appeared to have become one with her form, her hands and feet possessing crimson dagger claws, while black wings with bright red membranes were resting on her shoulders. A sword had formed and enlarged to compensate for her new form while her neck was now surrounded a collar of bright red flames.

The Emperor was entirely unfazed by her appearance, merely intensifying his glare, "And so it has come to this, the Alpha and the Omega."

"This is the end, Emperor of Mankind! I will rend you until the very sparks of your soul will cry for mercy!" The Queen of Daemon roared out with a monstrous fury that reached the Blood God's wrath.

"So be it Queen of Daemons, but this is only the beginning!" The Emperor yelled as he raised his gigantic sword to the skies, igniting through the air like an inferno of golden holiness, "Let us transform this earth into a land scarred by the law of gods!"

Mandy merely grinned, "Let's begin then!"

(Audiomachine- Kingbreaker)

The tension was palpable, two giants of Warp power standing before one another with the strength of a million men, staring down as the Warp became more turbulent than ever before as their burning desire for victory burned brighter than the Gods themselves.

And then it broke under the weight of their rage.

Both the Emperor and The Daemon Queen roared as they both charged at each other, colliding in a typhoon of gold and red that shook the entire planet like the detonation of a cyclonic torpedo. They clashed faster than light, appearing as images or blurs instead of a coherent fight for mortal minds, explosions dotting the landscape as each strike and parry was akin to a hurricane while torrents of red and gold burst from each step and movement.

Meanwhile, both the Imperial and Traitor forces above Molech gaped in both fear and awe as they watched the onslaught upon the planet, seeing swarms of gold and red-black clashing against each other, all too afraid to make planet fall and join the battle. The Tzeentchians all gazed in shock, the Changer of Ways hadn't predicted this. The Nurglites for once were too scared to spread the gifts of the Grandfather. The Khornates were silent as they watched the battle, too scared to join the clash between the Anathema and the Daemon Queen. The Slaaneshi were all slackjawed, for once not taking pleasure in wanton bloodshed.

On the deck of Macragge's Honour, one could not imagine the sheer raw feeling of shock when the crew, including Yvraine, Inquisitor Greyfax and Belicarius Cawl, when they saw the look of raw white hot unfiltered and unrefined slackjawed expression on Roboute Guilliman. The look was articulated by the barely visible beads of sweat racing down his brow and the parting and closing of his mouth, his eyes firmly locked onto the golden light that blazed across the service of Molech, barely blinking as the flares of golden and red grew brighter than the sun of the Sol System.

"Father?"

The whisper from Guilliman's lips, however quiet, rang out like a shot from a storm bolter, causing every eye to turn to the planet in both awe and fear.

On the deck of the Vengeful Spirit, Abaddon found himself stepping back in fear, even Drachn'yen seemingly reeling back in terror. Ahriman and Khayon both were shocked to realize that they flinched when a blast of red and gold shook realspace around them. Kharn and the other World Eaters, normally frothing at the mouth for the chance to kill, were silent as they stared on at the apocalypse on Molech. Typhus subconsciously did not realize that the hand gripping Manreaper was trembling as his attention was directed to himself when he felt the daemonic flies of the Destroyer Hive retreat further inside him out of fear. Lucius, normally ecstatic and loud, was staring at the battle between the Emperor and the Queen of Daemons with an expression of raw silent and unfiltered fear as he could barely cobble together words from the chokes bubbling in his throat.

Both Huron Blackheart and Kranon the Relentless were staring at the battle with eyes wide and mouths agape, the Crimson Slaughter behind them both still in terror as the voices haunting their minds ever since Umidia became silent as a tomb. Garreon the Corpsemaster and Variel the Flayer both backed away in sheer terror at the sight of the war between the Emperor of Mankind and the Queen of Daemons.

Both Grim Junior and Minnie both realized they were in over their heads and quickly led their mother's remaining mortal followers off Molech via a Warp Rift conjured by her sorcerers. Gift ducked under a blast of red before he scrambled to his feet and dove headfirst into the portal as did any cultists that were too scared to join the fight. Azula grabbed Ty-Lee and bailed through the portal after a stomp from the Emperor sent quakes through the planet along with cracks ablaze with golden power.

Asmodeus was laughing in utter madness, even as his vehicle raced through storms of red and gold, "Oh, what a day! WHAT A LOVELY DAY!" Doomrider howled out in raw unfiltered elation, practically inebriated from the chaos around them, firing his Hecuter 10s in the air. The two then warped out of there via teleport holmers to the Dreaded Crown.

The battle was left only to the daemon and angyls battling on its surface, both side taking heavy casualties numbering in the billions. Cities and forests disappearing in burning Warpfire, roaring things from beyond the veil being slayed by holy flame and blade, light from the anathema blasting from beyond the known before the storms began raging like a blaze of crimson.

One of the Formless took the shape of a million flailing tentacles and suppurating maws as it launched itself at Saint Celestine, who merely roared out as she cleaved the Formless profanity of warp stuff in twain, but that did little as its dark composite merely reformed. Lashing out with tentacles ending in flytraps-like maws that were slashed away by her Ardent Blade, the Formless bit down with its jutting maws in an attempt to devour and corrupt her, but the Living Saint merely held the maw open with nothing but strength alone before she pierces the maw with her blade of light that earned a squeal of agony.

Saint Sabbat was akin to a blur, slaying thousands of daemons in but the blink of an eye, trails of golden light burning behind her as she began cleaving through the black hordes like they never existed with her Radiant Fury blade. Unknown to her, a monster from the beyond raised a cursed blade designed to kill the Living Saints was raised behind her, ready to end Sabbat's existence here and now.

Suddenly, before the blow could land on her, the arm that held the cursed blade was slashed apart by another blade of holy light. It was Saint Gerstahl, his wings extended and his sword, the Burning Purpose, ablaze with fire.

The daemon only had a second to react before Gerstahl slashed the rest of its material form to literal ribbons, banishing the thing back to the Warp while the other hordes watched in horror.

"HOW?!" One of the daemons ripped from the Warp to serve Mandy's holy purpose, "ABADDON DESTROYED YOU!"

"Abaddon merely destroyed a body. HE DID NOT DESTROY MY SPIRIT!" Gerstahl bellowed as he flared out his beauteous wings, "AND HE NEVER WILL!" Both Gerstahl and Sabbat both became veritable tornados of fury, slashing apart millions of charging daemons into pieces in less than a nanosecond.

Saint Othis was stoic even as the wind blew on and let his white and robe robes flowed, the hordes of horror things oncoming before he held up a holy symbol of his office - a heavy, golden, barred letter I. After the preacher did so, however, a blinding light filled the area, and it was followed by a large blast that blazed across the landscape before a large pillar of holy fire surrounded them and stretched up into the sky. The Angyls and the Legion of the Damned were unharmed by its touch, the fire had turned the dark hordes, daemons, Plague Zombies, and the Formless into ash. If one could then look up into the pillar and within its flames, one could see a giant wearing golden armor. Then the pillar was gone and the sky above them was free of Chaos corruption.

Saint Joaqhuine and Saint Lozepath both roared as they thrusted their spears into the chest of a Formless that took the shape of a thing with a barrel shaped torso with multiple tentacles and mouths, before then thrusting up, cleaving the Formless vertically in half. The two stood back-to-back, metallic wings against ethereal wings before they began slashing and bifurcating anything that got too close.

Saint Anasis, Saint Drusis, Saint Nixia, and Saint Mathieu charged headlong towards the Dark Hordes, acting more as a siege engine than a group of four saints of the Emperor, a blaze of holy gold that brought death to this blighted world. They fought and fought, slaying daemons whispered in dread among cults in but the blink of an eye, corrupted warriors that had braved the blasphemous tides eviscerated to little more than strips of flesh and ceramite before burning to atoms, and thousands of cultists that had fallen to the Dark Gods' lies burned and died a screaming death.

The Legion of the Damned fired at whatever they could with bolter and blade, an endless tide of black and bone white draped in flames. Their leader, as tall as a Primarch, with his silver arms and head of white hot fire, gripping a massive warhammer that he used to crush any remaining traitor space marines into slurry, all of them unable to fight back before their heads and sternums were crushed, then their bodies were incinerating in churning infernos for betraying the Emperor and his dream.

Back with the Emperor and the Queen, both were duking it out to where even the burning glares on their faces seemed to ignite the ground around them before their blades clashed in a boom of gold and red. The Queen's wings flared out as she took to the skies, raising her sword before a rain of crimson lightning engulfed the landscape as the Emperor blocked it with a psychic shield while the area around him erupted in flames.

Just as she finished her assault, the Emperor speared from the cloud of fire and rammed his fist into her face before she could react, the air blasting from the sheer force of his blow before she skidded to a halt on air, glaring fiercely at the Master of Mankind. The Daemon Queen roared so loudly that the ground around them splintered as a massive chasm formed under their feet, magma and fire blazing around each other before she expelled a massive blaze of crimson and white from her mouth that formed when her stone face splintered into a maw of stone jutting fangs.

The beam would have hit the Master of Mankind who strafed out of the way before he uppercutted her in the jaw, breaking her stone face before she could attack again. The Emperor roared as he impaled the Queen of Daemons through the torso, causing her to scream in blinding agony before she was slammed into the white-hot magma in the chasm beneath them. She roared out and gripped the Blade of the Emperor, ripping it out of her chest before grabbing her sword and thrusting it towards the Master of Mankind's head.

He did not even react as he moved his head to the side, causing her thrust to miss before he rammed his fist into her skull. Having enough of the Emperor beating her, the Daemon Queen slashed again, nicking the collar of his golden armor before her blade and the Emperor's Sword clashed together, waves of gold and crimson crashing against each other.

Both of the titans of Warp power clashed their swords of unreality, the blast cracking the surface of the planet in shattering waves of gold and red while their armies raged around them in an evershifting tide of reality and unreality. Neither to the Emperor of Mankind nor the Queen of Daemons backed down from the clash as they glared at each other with nothing but blistering hate in their eyes.

Suddenly, the entirety of Molech trembled like a sun that had just been brought into existence. A blast of gold and red roared out as one tried to overpower the other, the planet behind their feet slowly cracking under their power. Neither backed down as their blades clash, magma and stone blasting under their feet before their struggle reached a blazing climax.

The struggle broke as both opponents were blown back by the force of their clash, skidding to a halt before the ground around them splintered as geysers of magma erupted in hellish fury. The two stood their ground, but they were almost beginning to tire. They both had expended too much power in manifesting the vast armies at their disposal. They needed to end this now!

The two gods born from mortal flesh raised their blades and roared. A roar that seemed to break the fabric of realspace as a sound of shattering glass rang out before the two collided again.

Both the Living Saints and the Angyls covered their eyes while the Legion of the Damned barely stood their ground against the blast of gold and red that raged around them. Both the Formless and her Dark Hordes hissed as the light shined down on them, whatever Traitor Astartes left roaring out in pain as they combusted into golden flames.

The clash ended when the Queen's blade shattered into shards of crimson before the Emperor's Sword pierced through her heart. A scream ripped out of Mandy's throat as the flames scorched her innards, weakening to where she could no longer stand before slumping to her knees as the Emperor ripped his sword out. Her breath became ragged and animalistic, glaring up at the Master of Mankind.

"YOU MAY HAVE BESTED ME THIS DAY, MASTER OF MANKIND... BUT KNOW THIS!" Mandy screamed out in defiance against the Emperor of Mankind, "I WILL CRAWL MY WAY OUT OF THE WARP AND I WILL NOT STOPP UNTIL I SEE YOU AND ALL THE GALAXY IN A BURNING HELL!"

The Emperor's only response was to raise his sword to the air before bringing it down on her, decapitating her before her material form burst and her spirit was sent screaming back to the Warp.

As if a blade had pierced the heart of darkness, the red sky slowly bled away until Molech's skies had become the purple hue of the morning sky. Whatever daemons or Formless that had not been slain burst and were sent screaming back to the Warp without Mandy's presence to keep them stable in realspace. And with but the snap of his fingers, the planet slowly began repairing itself from their war.

The Emperor may have won the battle, but the war was just beginning.

Unknown to all others, two figures with standing on the blast landscapes of Molech.

There were two men standing above him, having the most bizarre appearances he'd ever seen.

The first was wearing a dark trench coat featuring silvery-gray lapels under a dress shirt of matching color, and a light silver scarf wrapped around his neck and collar, along with a matching dark fedora with a silver hatband, dark rubber gloves, and black boots. On his face was a silver mask with black markings that resembled a frown and two crescent eyes flowing downward.

The second was even more bizarre, wearing an outfit that resembled a Victorian undertaker with a golden diamond mark on the left breast, a black tophat with golden hatband, a golden mask with black markings that resembled a mischievous smirk and two crescent eyes flowing downward, and a black polished wooden cane with a golden derby handle.

"Behold Comedy, Chaos' greatest symphony thou begun to play." Tragedy said as he took off his fedora and extended his arms, basking in the ceremony grand of Chaos' greatest prize.

"Hmph, seems the Queen has gotten what she came for in the end eh?" Comedy mused as he twirled his cane before resting it on his shoulder, "I never thought she would."

"Art thou afearth thy Queen's ascension?" Tragedy asked as he turned to his compatriot.

"Do you?" Comedy asked in return to Tragedy, who merely kept silent and stared on at the morning sky of Molech, with the silver mask turning to face the morning sun with him.

"Behind almost every heartless monster gripped by Chaos' claws is someone who once cared too much." Comedy lamented as he dipped his tophat, "Chaos is nothing but a drug of immaterial, slowly working down your defenses until you have no filters left, and there's only the real 'You.' And 'You' is something that you buried under archetypes and masks, not knowing what the thing that was 'You' could be until its revealed in all its hideousness. And when 'You' is fully revealed, even that is buried under madness and insanity until whatever is left of you is another mindless drone."

"Truer word hath yet been spoken." Tragedy said as he reached into his coat and extracted a silver ornamental Overture revolver before aiming behind them and fired a single round into the ground.

Silver mist bubbled from the hole before it arched around and crackled into a spiraling portal, one that shined a pale baleful light before they entered, closing behind them as the morning came to a now pure and quiet Molech.

The Dreaded Crown

Mandy's son and daughter panted as they rested in their private quarters on the Dreaded Crown. They had achieved the goal that they had dedicated their lives to for 200 years, after all the hardships and lost loved ones that fell on the way of this Imperium's end.

It consumed every thought of their being to counteract the slow corruption of Chaos. Ascension for their mother to rend the Imperium away turned from the dreams of a scared little boy and girl into a vengeful man and woman echoing a famous fictional sea captain. And just like Ahab, they'd made the Emperor and the Imperium their white whale and their entire focus. Their god in a way, and themself an antitheist with a worship of demise.

And yet, after seeing it achieved... they felt nothing.

It seemed like a moment of clarity, before the moment came, the emptiness seemed like it bore into them like a drill into their soul. Suffering the hardships that burnt them down and triumphing over those that berated them and kicking them down, they pushed on as to earn their mother's love even as they burnt and bleed for her and her ambitions.

All their torment, all the blood spilt, all the names lost to an endless tide of death left in her wake, all the scars from battles long past, all the death and torture, and here they are after it all: their mother among the greatest of all daemon princes, the Imperium's end all but inevitable, and their journey seemingly at its end.

So, why do they feel empty?

The questions silenced themselves as suddenly a red simmering portal appeared before them. They two immediately shot to their feet and drew their weapons when something began to come through before their jaws dropped.

"Mother..." Grim breathed as their mother came through the portal, strutting like a dark queen.

Mandy's hair and eyes were now bright red while her skin was charcoal black, while her attire changed to a black top with a red design in the middle with a red orb, a fitting black bottom, two giant red feathers on her top, black armbands, a long cape attached to her top with the same red feathers, and thigh high leather boots. In another flash of crimson flames, came a corrupted Powersword with its blade a radiant crimson and the hilt seemingly composed of an onyx carapace, jagged and shrapnel-like.

She kneels down to her dear son and daughter with the portal closing behind her, having a seemingly affectionate smile before she slowly removed the eyepatch from Junior's face, revealing the scarred empty socket beneath with burn scars around the lids.

Suddenly, she raised a hand to Minnie's face, a flash of red, before pulling back, revealing Minnie's now eyeless sockets that began bleeding. Grim gawked as Mandy retained that smile while Minnie slowly raised her shaking hand up to her face and felt her face as the tears of blood slid down to her mouth, "It can't see…" she said with a whimper, like a child whose favorite toy had broken. She started to shake, at first with tears… but then she threw back her head, laughing hysterically. "I can't see! I can't fucking see!"

Mandy placed her hand on her daughter's head, causing her to stop as she brokenly muttered, "M-Mommy? Mommy?" The Queen shushed her as she stroked her daughter's golden hair to calm her down, letting Minnie cry out into her mother's chest, the tears of blood disintegrating as they dropped onto her ethereal form.

Grim eyed her with his remaining eye with a disturbed expression. Minerva usually was unfazed by anything, even when she was impaled in the gut by a Slaaneshi saber. So, why the hell is she freaking out at losing her eyes?

"Hush, now. Hush, now. All is well, Minerva." Mandy cooed to her sobbing daughter before she extended a hand to Grim, who recoiled at the gesture, thinking that she would remove his remaining eye. Suddenly, green flames erupted in her palm, revealing three eyes with grey irises.

Junior blinked when he saw the eyes causing Mandy to smirk, "Nergaling eyes. The source of their power. Think of it as a reward for assisting me with daemonhood."

Mandy merely hummed as she slowly pushed one Nergaling eye into Grim's empty socket. Inside the socket, he felt several microscopic tendrils from the eye dig their way into the optic nerves, establishing connections into his brain until it started receiving signals, letting him see again as he felt the power flowing through him.

Suddenly, he was stricken by a series of images and memories that rammed into his skull like a spear through his brain.

A blink. Staring up at a starless sky with no feeling other that its eyes. Coiling itself and forming shape to move.

Slithering out as it formed tendrils with stingers. Prey lounging in the dark as it feasted on sludge and bones. Lashing out, piercing its scaled hide before eating the screaming head.

Growing and eating. Turning to see an enemy charging towards it with a scream as it opened a suppurating sea of stubby maggot-like mouths.

Hunters. Chaining it and dragging it away.

Fighting something else. Grabbing and tearing to the cheers of others.

Breaking free. The cheers turning to screams as it crushed them.

Turning. Seeing a shape in red.

Pain as something pierced its chest.

Sightlessness as something ripped its eye out.

Death.

Grim snapped out of the death reel and let out a deep gasp before he started coughing harshly. Mandy patted him on the back as he began to blink rapidly, not used to seeing out of both eyes for quite some time.

"What was that?" He asked his mother, who was still comforting a crying Minerva.

"When a Nergaling is on the precipice of death, it will search for a host, a sort of symbiote to which the dying creature will offer all of its power." Mandy explained to her son, "Should this host accept the Nergaling's offer, an extreme transformation will begin. The host will thereafter become a Nergaling themselves, but during this stage of transformation the new carrier will experience all of the former Nergaling's lifetime experience. Like a highlight reel, only more defined. He will experience its past life, its memories, its dreams, emotions, pain and perhaps even its biggest secrets."

She then hemmed and hawed for a second before she continued, "Though it does have its negative side-effects. If the host is in misery and cannot handle the power, the inner Nergal Demon will take over the body for its own plans. The host will have to learn to control the Nergal powers, so it obeys them. This can be done best through Nergal language."

"Nergal language?" Grim raised an eyebrow before his mother smirked. Then, she spoke in the most alien tone he'd ever heard, almost like the chittering of insects that words to where he blinked and looked at her with a bewildered look.

Suddenly, the black viscous matter dotted with numerous emerald eyes and fangs that he saw in the vision formed from his arm and coiled around his hand before they formed into a rapier.

Grim Junior blinked and gaped, examining at the rapier in his hand as Mandy smirked at his bemusement.

"Call it insurance." The Queen assured her son with a seemingly soft smile, before turning her gaze to her daughter, "Now, for your sister."

Mandy then gripped her daughter's head, revealing her eyeless face before she gently shoved the other two Nergaling eyes into Minerva's empty sockets as well.

Minerva twitched and tossed, spasmodically moving as her new eyes darted in REM sleep, her mouth opening but no noise coming out. Meanwhile, Grim struggled to stand, especially in their mother's presence, not used to having two eyes again. After several minutes, she eventually seemed to calm down, blinking as she took in her returned sight with her new eyes.

"What?" Her voice was clammy and tired as she put a hand to her head and slowly rose from the floor, "What happened?"

"Hello, dear." Mandy stroked her hair with a honeyed tone, "Like your new eyes?"

Minerva groaned before she looked at Grim, who was by Mandy's side. She blinked when she saw Grim having an eye that filled his empty right socket, who reacted with a deadpan statement, "No, you're not hallucinating."

She nodded as her mother helped her stand, feeling the power of the eyes flowing through her veins before she suddenly formed that same rapier in her hand, much to the surprise of her mother and brother before it retracted into her body again. Mandy returned to a neutral expression, apparently Minerva was more proficient symbiote than her brother.

Regardless, it was time.

The Queen of Daemons walked out of the room with her two children at her side like her great generals. They came to great halls where the survivors of Molech knelt before them like gods, even those aligned with the minor Gods again. Before they all came to the bridge, who happened to be there than the Dark Master himself.

"Hello, my dear." Black Hat said that he bowed while taking off his hat.

Mandy and her son and daughter blinked when they saw that Black Hat had a derby hat under his top hat before the Dark Master placed it back on his head before he turned to the bridge and let them all behold their new fortress. An impossibly massive castle standing atop a mountain composed of dark spires that shimmered and drank whatever light shined on it. Uncountable ships arrived and departed in streams of metal and engine fire, flowing into maws of bright red light, trading weapons, people, substances, valuable items, etc.

"Come." Mandy hummed, beckoning for them to follow her to the new Castle of Sin.

Cthonia

800.M30

A den of hive-sprawls and polluted industry, Cthonia existed in one of Earth's closest neighbouring systems. Being within reach even for non-warp spacecraft, Cthonia had been colonised, built upon, tunneled and mined probably since the dawn of space travel. As such, all natural resources had been stripped away and used up millennia before, and the ancient mining technology had long since been rediscovered and removed by the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars. The planet that remained was largely redundant and abandoned, described as rocky and volcanic, completely riddled with catacombs, crumbling industrial plants and exhausted mine-workings. The planet was notorious for the vicious gangs and slums. Most of its population fought and died with each other in the labyrinthine tunnels below the Mechanicum-ruled surface. At the planet's heart was a massive volcanic cavern that the gangs used to incinerate their dead.

Fierce, lawless gangs inhabited the depths of Cthonia, enjoying freedom from the rigours of Imperial citizenship.

There was no law but the blade, no desire save that to survive. Some gangs were territorial, their leaders possessing all the pretensions of barbarian kings. With armies of men and women bonded to their service, they would seize access to tunnels, demand tribute from other factions and create enclaves in the lightless heart of abandoned tunnel networks. To other gangs', blood and power was a crop to be harvested by violence and violence alone, and the dead meat enough to live on.

Holding no territory and living from plunder, these gangs raided, murdered and burned. Where they did not need food, ammunition or supplies they would raid simply to enhance the fear they spread or winnow out the weak and the undeserving from their own ranks.

While these reaving gangs left blood and ruin at their passing, others moved like spectres on the edge of sight, killing silently and for ends that few could understand.

Between these factions a fluid web of respect, tribute and rivalry existed. Factions would form, evolve and dissolve in a few solar months. Of those that endured longer, only one thing was certain: their time too would pass.

And so, it was for the long years of the Age of Strife: the strong killed the weak only to be killed themselves as others rose up again and again and again, and somehow this murderous strain of Cthonian humanity not only survived, but thrived by murder and prospered by plunder, and so Cthonia endured for long years.

The first Imperial contact with Cthonia took place in the early Great Crusade, when a Star Hunters pioneer company under Captain Kornelius Dure discovered the world and declared it a "nest of serpents coiling in the dark that we would be better to destroy". However, the planet was revealed as the homeworld of Horus, one of the Emperor's lost Primarch's and the first to be rediscovered. Upon incorporation into the Imperium, the Space Marines of the Luna Wolves Legion were created using the human inhabitants of the violent gangs inhabiting the planet's Hives.

In one of those Hives, an infant, abandoned and left for dead, cried out as a monster in human skin neared it with a rusted knife, irritated by the noise it was making and intend to use its guts for his next meal. Before he could, a blast of red reduced his cranium to a slurry and his body fell to the ground like a rotten sac of meat.

The infant stopped crying at hearing that, looking curious around it before it saw someone approaching it. It was a woman, clad in a black ragged cloak with her long blond hair sticking out and her burning red eyes visible through the shadow.

Instead of crying out in fear, the infant seemed to be at peace with her presence, especially after she took it into her arms. She brushed on finger in its soft cheek, letting a giggle bubble out of his throat, Mandy couldn't help but to let herself smile and chuckle, as she knew what the infant would grow into when the Emperor came to this planet.

"Hello, Ezekyle." She sweetly said to the baby boy, who cooed at the touch of her finger, wrapping it with his tiny fingers.

The infant cooed, curling its small fingers around one of hers, looking at the world in sheer wonder.

She let a smile come across her face again, before slowly walking out of the alleys as Ezekyle cooed out.

The Warp

In the iridescent tides of the everchanging immaterial, something born from the Emperor's godly science and the lies of the Chaos Gods writhed in agony.

There was no description for what it was because it was merely something forced together by the barest of fragments pieced into the lost visage of the Lupercal. To anything that could see it, it was less a whole entity and more akin to an abstract sculpture, an ensemble of white pieces with black edges, floating in place as if it were a puzzle with missing pieces: a missing bicep on the left arm, a chunk of the chest, part of the abdomen, the right knee, and the head was missing the top left quarter if one were to make an accurate depiction.

When the Emperor unleashed the spear of psychic might that impaled Horus and caused the Chaos Gods to abandon their vessel, he then used the remaining measures of his power to shatter Horus' soul, ensuring that he could not be corrupted to the Ruinous Powers again. However, the Emperor underestimated the extent of the Gods' spite; they gathered ever shard of Horus' soul that they could find and forcibly cobbled together a vague thing composed of all the shards of Lupercal.

The Four Gods then began to torture the thing: Tzeentch inflicting mutations, Nurgle inflicting disease, Khorne inflicting wounds, and Slaanesh inflicting agony. Not just them, but Stromfels unleashed the sensation of drowning, Hashut inflicting molten iron, Malice seared his mark into the soul flesh of its being, and the Hanged King merely inflicted the worst insanity on its mind.

They drew out every last scream, stretching every bite, every slash, every burn, every break, and every weep of blood into an eternity of agony for daring to believe that the Arch Traitor had bound them to his will.

Then the souls of the Luna Wolves found it, enacting their vengeance. And then the souls of the Death Guard, the Thousand Sons, the Emperor's Children, the Iron Warriors, the Night Lords, and the Alpha Legion came to exact revenge on the Arch Traitor for leading them to damnation.

And then the souls of the Imperial Fists, Ultramarines, Space Wolfs, Blood Angels, White Scars, Salamanders, and Iron Hands that had fallen in the Horus Heresy came for their revenge.

It was the same, never growing numb because of Tzeentch, Slaanesh, and the Hanged King, never dying thanks to Nurgle, never resting because of Khorne, Stromfels, Hashut, and Malice, and neverending.

However, something seemed wrong now.

In the millennia it had been trapped in the Warp, the thing that had been cobbled together from the fragments of Horus's soul slowly learned to read the events of the materium by watching the currents of the Sea of Souls. Something was wrong however, as it could see the streams of Warp energy coil around a spiraling mass of crimson with shrouds of shadow slithering around.

Then the mass burst into a titan of Warp power, leaving it to bask it in its terrible radiance like a mortal burning in a star of wrath and hate. It was both beautiful and horrible at once.

It then saw the titan made things of starlight, monuments of lost dreams, kingdoms of fanciful design and denizens, opening gates to placing beyond imagining and ideas beyond thinking and feeling. It couldn't help but look on in a semblance of childlike wonder.

Suddenly, it came towards it, and everything turned black.

XXX

A feeling of sunlight then came on flesh, making a groan escape the throat of a man. Eyes fluttered open that took in the blue sky and a bright sun shining down on him. A groan came again as he felt his fingers claw at the dirt, forcing himself to sit up, a hand pressed to his forehead before he blinked.

Where was the pain?

He looked at his hands in surprise before he noticed the area around him, standing up and looking around.

He was in a meadow, sitting close at the edges of a forest and lakeside, a pair of mountains in the distance with the noon sun reflecting on the water with the rippling waves listlessly lapping at the shore. The wind brushing into his hair and against his skin like a lover's hand, watching as flower pedals brushed against him and scattered off into the air.

It was beautiful.

He found himself raising a hand to the air, feeling the wind flowing between his fingers before he turned to the meadow near his feet, running a hand through the golden flowers as pollen stained his palm.

Disliking it on his hand, he walked to the edge of the lake and let his hand sink into the cold water, watching as the golden particles rise off his palm while his fingers racing through the running liquid. He then exacted his hand before wiping the liquid off on his shirt and pants.

Suddenly, someone touched his shoulder, causing him to flinch and turn to see the smirking face of a blond woman in a black dress with green accents.

"Morning, sleepyhead." She said coyly, placing both hands on his shoulders as he stared at her breathlessly.

The blond woman then began dancing around him, humming a tune that he didn't recognize, making sure that his confused eyes were always on her. In a random moment, she blew a kiss at him before skipping off through the forest.

Not knowing what do, he followed her as she danced and frolicked through the woods like a blithe spirit, hearing the grass and wood crunch under his footsteps, seeing the shapes of animals between the trees, and the feeling of wind on his face as he raced towards her in the mad dash to catch up to her. Even as he ran and ran without looking back, the woman seemed to be faster and lither, alluring like a Greek statue.

Eventually, he lost track of her, leaving him wandering the forests as he tried to find her again.

Sounds from somewhere then began egging him on, like a monster from the back of his skull.

He kept looking around, wondering where she was before something caught his eye.

A meadow, this one red instead of yellow, was seen in a clearing that seemed to be innocuous and lonely, the wind blowing like a voiceless song.

He slowly trudged towards the red meadow, coming through the edges of the forest. The clearing was different, now grey clouds covered the skies that blocked the shining sun, the winds were harsher, and the lake rippled with harsh waves.

Then something happened.

Like the moment of time that had yet to come through, memories of pain, of honor, of betrayal, of broken tears came to him like a pike through the skull. He remembered his name and what had just happened finally dawned on him.

Horus then yelled out with his hands cuffed in the shape of the ancient megaphone, "HELLO?!" Silence for several moments before he tried again, "IS THERE ANYONE THERE?!"

"Hello, Horus."

Lupercal wheeled around when he saw the blond woman walking through the meadow of roses, letting her fingers run through the pedals.

"W-Who are you?" Horus asked while looking around the area in curiosity, "What is this place?"

"Terra." The blond said, giggling when Horus' dumbstruck expression turned to her, before looking up to the beautiful landscape, "Before the Age of Strife and even before the Dark Age of Technology." A rueful smile came to her face as she said, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Horus nodded, still unable to belief that this was Terra, all those millennia ago, "Indeed..."

"Very much indeed, Horus."

He wheeled around again, seeing another blond woman like the one in front of him, this one having hair that reached her waist and burning red eyes, with her black dress having red accents instead of green.

Horus looked between both women, having a bewildered expression before the one with short hair said, "Mother."

Lupercal looked between them again and remarked acidulously, "Had I been a lesser man, I would have assumed you were sisters."

The crimsoned eyed one chuckled, a sound that was both melodic and threatening, "You would not believe how many times I had heard that." She then held up a hand sized mirror before saying, "Perhaps, you should see what you resemble, Horus."

The mortal form of Horus Lupercal was rather handsome: short black hair with a 5-o-clock shadow, brown eyes, a white shirt under a yellow and brown checkered jacket, a pair of jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Despite the sight of himself, he seemed... remarkably unremarkable. Like nothing but a face in the crowds. A nobody.

And he hated it.

"What did you..." Horus' breath was ragged, like the rage he felt began to boil over and was ablaze with fury, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"

Mandy smirked, "I didn't do anything. I just told the Chaos Gods of a much better punishment than torturing you for all eternity." Her smirk then faded, and snapped her fingers, causing Minvera to produce black tentacles in her hand that she then used to bind Horus, who struggled to break it, "After all, it's fitting to destroy your pride when pride is what led to this."

Horus was taken aback by this claim, stopping his struggle, and he merely glared back, "What happened was out of my control."

"Was it?" Mandy retorted, getting closer to the bound Horus, "None of this would have happened if you had just used your brain! But on you marched." And she sneered as his mind was forced to think of Davin, "And for what?"

Horus shakes his head again, stammering as he tried to think, "I-I tried to save the Imperium."

"You're no savior. Your talents lie elsewhere."

Horus grits his teeth harder than ever as tears slowly build. He cannot face it. "This isn't my fault."

Mandy was both unconvinced and unsurprised, "To quote a great man, 'It takes a strong man to deny what's in front of him. And when the truth is undeniable, you create your own.'"

Horus glared at her but then she merely shook her head and motioned for Minerva to follow her, the two women dragging the Primarch by the arms as he was forced to keep walking as he was robbed of his strength or speed.

Soon, they came to another clearing but this one was off a darker temperament. A canyon, where no one could see him be murdered if he ever was and be buried where no one would find his body, came into view, before the Queen conjured some crimson stairs that allowed them to descend into the depths.

"You plan to have me killed?" Horus asked with a bored expression, thinking that they were trapping him in this mortal body just so they could torment him on last time before he was finally killed and released.

"Perhaps." Mandy replied, not looking back at him.

Eventually, the three got to the bottom of the canyon, Horus not bothering to take in the details of the area as he kept staring at the Queen with barely lidded rage for daring to do this to him, yet she remained apathetic.

However, when he took notice.

There was Abaddon, Typhus, and Kharn, standing by a spiraling Warp Rift with another one that Horus didn't recognize. Seemingly like the reaper but wearing a black outfit that resembled a Victorian undertaker with the head covered by a hood that barely hid the emerald eyes.

Forcing him in front of the three Chaos Lords, Abaddon had a pleased expression before Horus was forced to his knees with Minnie removing her cuffs from his hands.

"Hello, my primarch." The mocking tone was palpable from the Despoiler as he unsheathed Drachn'yen, "It has been quite a long time, no?"

"10,000 years, Abaddon." Horus mocked back, "Now get on with it."

Abaddon sneered at his primarch, disgusted that he thinks he can demand anything of him, "And why do you believe you deserve it?"

"I suffered in this humiliating form for long enough." Horus replied, before he looked down and sighed, finally swallowing his pride, "That and it's now that I realize what a fool I was. I thought I understood the gods' plan. I thought they wanted me to build a new Imperium... But I am not their shepherd. You and Darhk are. My soul has become a cancer. I am a monster. And I only spread suffering and death in the name of the Gods. My legion is all ashes. My brothers are little more than dust. And there is no redemption for this. No atonement. There's only the justice of the Emperor's hand. End this vicious cycle. Give me the Emperor's justice. Release me."

Mandy and her children were surprised to see the former Warmaster swallow his pride while Abaddon merely sneered, "As you wish." The Despoiler raised his arms, readying the End of Empires to smite his Primarch where he knelt. Horus merely closed his eyes, accepting his fate. Mandy and her children merely watched on in interest.

Drachn'yen raised high in the air, white and dark power arcing with eldritch and bloodthirsty intent, ready to drink the soul of the Arch Traitor.

Suddenly, just as Abaddon was about to bring the dread blade down on Horus, Typhus put his hand on the Warmaster's shoulder, stopping him much to his, Mandy's, her children's, Kharn's, Abaddon's, and Horus' surprise when the latter opened his eyes when he didn't feel the blinding agony of a sword cleaving through him.

"No. Not like this, Abaddon." Typhus said as he thought of a different punishment for the former Warmaster, "If you release him, you will free him of his suffering. He is humiliated, stripped of his might, and unable to regain it. Letting him live is a greater punishment."

"What?! After all he tore down?! After all he damned us to?!" Kharn demanded, enraged at the thought sparing the former Warmaster, "Abaddon must slay him! That will avenge us!"

"Abaddon. Look at him." Typhus pleaded to the Warmaster, motioning to Horus with Manreaper which turned Abaddon's gaze towards the former Warmaster, "He's too pathetic to be a threat anymore. Let him suffer. Let it go."

Abaddon stared at the Traveller for a moment before then looking back at Horus, contemplating this action. For several moments, Abaddon stared at the weakened and weary Horus, taking in Typhus' words. Then, with a resigned sigh, the Warmaster sheathed Drachn'yen, letting its fury cool before he looks to Mandy and her children, who were surprised at this turn of events.

"I'm done." The Warmaster said, no longer interested in killing Horus anymore. The Queen merely nodded before walking off, her children following suit after a second and both Typhus and Kharn following too, the Traveller satisfied and the Betrayer grumbling at a kill being denied.

"What?" Horus incredulously asked, gaining their attention again, "That's it? This is it? You bring me back, drag me here, condemn me to this? Only to just leave? This is it? This is my future?!"

"Yeah. It's the future where you're just like us." Grim Junior said as he approached the now mortal form of Horus Lupercal, "And like all the mortals you despised. It's the future where you'll grow old, you'll get sick, and you just die."

Minnie then cuts in, speaking with little emotion like a judge readying someone for the guillotine, "And no one remembers you. No one even cares. You're just forgotten. Just like the future that Erebus showed you all those years ago."

After that, Mandy turns away along with her son and daughter, and along with the other Traitor Astartes leaves the now mortal Horus to his fate, heading for the rift without another thought.

"Guys... Guys, wait. Guys. Guys! No, wait! Guys! Guys, please wait!" Horus yelled out, desperate not to be left in this mortal body, "RELEASE MEEEEE! RELEEASE MEEEEEE!"

They did not heed him, not sparing him a look, merely walking into the rift without even a word.

"No, wait! Please, wait! Wait!" Horus screamed out, sprinting towards the rift in a desperate attempt not to be forgotten.

Just as his fingers were about to brush the edges of the rift, it unceremoniously closed, sealing the fate of Horus Lupercal. He fell to the ground, seeing the empty space where it originally was.

Horus stared on, mouth agape for what felt like hours before he felt the hot tears trail down his face as his cry of anguish echoed through the peaceful skies of this Terra untouched by Chaos.

No one to blame, no one to redirect the guilt and regret, no one for him to reconcile with.

Only him and the daemons in his head.

Just Horus Lupercal, fallen from grace and stripped of his greatness, now one of the mortals that he believed he deserved to rule.

For the first time, his ambitions were broken as were his dreams.

And for the first time in a long time, Horus began to cry.

The Warp

The Churning Forge

Humming his favorite song, Zim walked through the sifting halls before his wristwatch started blinking again. Raising an antenna, Zim snapped his claws, causing another corridor to form beside him, this one composed of crystal instead of corrupted ceramite.

Striding through the corridor, Zim pondered what this could be about? Ever since the opening of the Maw, he'd gone into a frenzy that surprised both him and the Changer of Ways, before swiping whatever art supplies he could and secluding himself into his lair for nearly three days now.

And from that blip, it seemed that the Fateweaver wanted him to see what he had constructed.

Coming out of the crystal corridor, Zim entered a vast library and/or laboratory, filled with shelves lined with books of eldritch lore, tables with chemistry sets filled with roiling compounds and alchemical creations, with various Horrors of Tzeentch working diligently for the Changer of Ways' work and plans. Sitting in a pile of books and tomes, the Blue Scribes, P'tarix and Xirat'p, frantically penning down spells and lore of dark eternity.

Zim merely took one of the many rolls of parchment that the Scribes, examining it with an arched antenna, "Ddentbtedj iatwsnr ora irma nimure?" He spoke in the tongue of the Warp, earning the attention of Xirat'p who raised whatever it had in an equivalent to an eyebrow.

"Gargamuura. Ten saba nur. Iam naigh siesms." The Blue Scribe replied as he and P'tarix kept penning their vast rolls of parchment.

The Marquis of Locusts simply hummed before gently placing the parchment down, before he came to the center of the area. Clearing his throat, Zim then screeched out with his mouth deforming into a maw of ruby colored fangs, "KAAAAAAAIRRROOOOOOOOSSSSSS!"

All was silent, no living thing moved out from their holes. Suddenly, Kairos Fateweaver slowly crawled from his lair, spreading his wings and popping his old joints as both heads muttered out itineraries and old prophecies as he then sat crosslegged in front of the Marquis of Locusts, resting the Staff of Tomorrow next to him.

Zim always had an interest in the Staff of Tomorrow.

The staff was constructed by Kairos Fateweaver himself, its core imbued with the arcane essence of rival Lords of Change. The rod is wrought of changefire, and is saturated with prophetic visions glimpsed in the Well of Eternity. It is a foundation worthy of bearing that which rests atop it - the artefact known as Kairos' Tome of Destiny. This book records what both of the Fateweaver's heads proclaim, mixing insights into the shrouded past with visions of possible futures. As Kairos croaks, new text scribes across the pages, morphing and rewriting itself even as time and events unfold. To look upon those pages induces madness, but to be struck by the staff itself is worse, for it is flux made manifest. Those blessed by its touch ripple with agonising transmutations. As he is blind to the present, Kairos often uses the book as reference, judging his position in time by the pages currently being written.

Regardless, his curiosity with Kairos' behavior had piqued and he could not escape his wish to indulge it.

"You wished to see me, Fateweaver?"

Having a tired expression, Fateweaver merely raised a hand before him, the Tome of Destiny's pages fluttering as they bristled in the unseen wind.

Suddenly, several paintings appeared from the inner parts of Fateweaver's sanctum, floating before the Marquis of Locusts. Each painting was framed in gold, scroll patterns lining them like serpents of gleaming light, and the paintings themselves almost like a photograph taken in the future and ripped back to the present.

The first painting showed a white haired man wearing a business suit and a labcoat, surrounded with formulas and calculations. "The Emperor's Intellect" was written in gold on the frame.

The second showed the back side of a man with brown hair, dressed in a dirty whit beater and black pants with a Lasgun in his hands, with the Aquila engraved on his back in scar tissue. The ground was black, and the sky was grey, but the most shocking part was whom the man was facing; it was Huron Blackheart, lighting claw raised to strike, yet the man did not seem to yield. "The Emperor's Valor" was written in gold on the frame.

The third showed another man facing away from the watchers; this one has shoulder length ginger hair and a full beard, wearing a white long sleeve shirt under a red leather duster, grey pants, and black boots. A reflection in a nearby crystal showed that his eyes were glowing red that went along with the expression of utter rage that adored his face. In his arms was a human sized version of the Spear of Telesto, and a Bolter, loaded and ready, was tied to a strap around his shoulder and torso. He stood above a precipice as the furious traitor Sons of Horus were drawing near. "The Emperor's Vengeance" was written in gold onto the frame.

The fourth showed three figures: The Star Fyodperor with Leman Russ and unknown man. All three seemed to be diving through the air, Fyodor having his scepter raised and his mouth open like a yell, and Leman with his sword raised and mouth open like a howl. The one on his right had a large grey ragged cloak, his face was odd with the right side being black as night and the left side being an orange-copper color with this side being the only one that had an eye, in his hands was a Chaos corrupted Bolt Rifle. He was grasping the right side of the Throne of Judgement, aiming his Bolt Rifle at whatever is in front of him and the two. "The Emperor's Compassion" was written in gold on the frame.

The fifth showed two people were sitting in a black space illuminated only by an unseen dim source of light from the unseen above. The first one was an absolutely beautiful woman with short black hair dressed in a black concealing outfit on her knees, cradling the second. The second was a male with shoulder length hair and a beard was wearing pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sleeved mantle. The only other thing existing in the painting other than the figures were the radiant golden tears that flowed down the female's cheeks. "The Emperor's Regrets" was written in gold on the frame.

The final painting showed a swath of golden fire; blasting, scouring, the faces of the Traitor Primarchs screaming as they burned in relentless blasts. The ground was ashen grey while Horus screamed to the sky as he burned in the background. In the center of the torrent of golden flames, was a black male figure with eyes burning like the flame around him, in his hands was the Sword of the Emperor, burning brighter than all the White Dwarfs of the universe. "The Emperor's Resolve" was engraved in gold on the frame.

Zim blinked as he took in the sight of the paintings, running his claws against the frames and feeling like the images were less like inspirations and more like warnings for things to come.

Suddenly, he caught sight of the Tome of Destiny's pages fluttering rapidly. A curiosity overtook him, and he found himself leaning in as the pages fluttered faster. And then, suddenly:

It was an old Bruce Wayne. His ratty hair having long since turned grey and had grown past his shoulders, a long grey beard draped from his face to his chest, suggesting he had grown old and wise. His frame, well kept from years of fighting, clad in the pristine yet faded armor that the Emperor had bequiffed him of but now possessing a massive and heavy cape composed of animal hides and patchwork leather, so large that it would trail on the old gambrel floors of the cathedral, around his neck sat numerous necklaces with small baubles holding burning incense, his armor lined with makeshift reinforcements and imperial decorations.

He was on his knees, hands together with a necklace that held a small golden Aquila, eyes closed and muttering religious hymns. In front of him was a pearl white skull mask that would have sheathed the head, only having two eyeholes with black lenses and a crown of straight blade-like horns of porcelain, sitting in the shadow of the stain glass portrait of the Emperor.

By his side was Robin, now grown up. His long and ratty black hair reaching his neck, his now more angular face was covered by a golden mask that merely possess two eyeholes with white lenses, religious seals and the name "Nightwing" graphed into the soft metal of his mask. His stronger and taller frame was now clad in black nanotech armor like the Acolytes, the groin covered by a black loincloth while a long trenchcoat-like robe composed of animal hides was worn over his armor and on the chest of his armor was a blue Aquila, wrapped around the arms were several baubles with burning incense. He was kneeling down beside his mentor, head down while his hands were wrapped around a Power Maul.

However, a moment then pasted when the two then rose to their feet and trekked down the rows of pews, before opening the thick doors and came to the snow-covered wasteland that had become his world.

Beyond the pale was something standing in the wind, obscured by the falling snow. Was it cloaked? Was it tall or stout? Was it lean or muscular? Did it possess horns or other exotic features? Was its face obscured or did it even have a face? All these things were cloaked by the snow as it watched on like a predator taking in its prey or a thing of antediluvian origin.

"Many worlds fall in the face of Chaos... but not this one! Not today!" The Chaplin that was once Batman yelled as he brandished his Arcanum at the Watcher in the Snow, "Unholy foulness! If today be my last day, then I will take you with me!"

The Watcher in the Snow roared as bladed tendrils of snow and wind bellowed out and attempted to reduce the old man to strips of flesh. Suddenly, Nightwing unleashed a slash that cleaved through the blades of snow. In his hand was an Executioner Blade of a Primaris Judiciar as well as the tempormortis in his other hand, staring stoic as he and Batman readied

"When I raise this sword, so I wish that this poor sinner will receive eternal life." Nightwing gave his statement before the two charged headlong at the Watcher in the Snow.

Zim blinked, snapping himself out of this vision. A smirk in his head formed when he realized what this could mean. Perhaps... something that can add to his plan...

C's Lair

C hummed a hymn of damned and nightmares as he dipped his brush into his paint of blood and warpstuff, before slowly stroking against the canvas for the next few minutes and then dipping it back in his special paint before giving the finishing touches.

"aH, fInIsHeD." C said as he placed down his brush down into the jar of his paint, examining his works with an interest that was forever hidden under his hood.

The first one was of the Samurai, banishing his sword as it was wreathed in white flames. He was fighting several abominations of flesh and spirit, those struck burning down in pyres of white that disseminated across the terrain. The Samurai was covered in cuts yet he either didn't care or notice as he continued to fight on, his mouth open in a roaring yell.

The second had a white feminine figure floating through the endless dark as a myriad of eyes and tendrils seemed to be slithering toward her. Twirling around her was Lorgar's scepter-maul; Illuminarum, Mortarian's battle scythe; Silence, Angron's chain-axes; Gorefather and Gorechild, Perturabo's stolen hammer; Forgebreaker, Fulgrim's power sword; Fireblade, Magnus' force staff; the Blade of Ahn-Nunura, Konrad's lightning claws; Mercy and Forgiveness, and Alpharius' power spear; Sarrisanata.

The third had an image that would frankly alarm anyone other than him: It presented a ruined landscape, buildings in various states of demolition littered the ground, the sky a deep red with black clouds and rising pillars of fire. In the foreground were two figures that alarmed Zim; the first was the Daemon Primarch Lorgar Aurelian, lashing red aura surrounding him while gripping his maul with an angry expression. The second was what could be described as a golden Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought polymerized with golden Artificer Armor wielding a massive sword wreathed in golden flames, the helmet was replaced with a face plate that was crafted in the Emperor's vestige with golden flames that resembled hair flowing in the wind. The most damning part was the Clock of Ages being seen in the hand of a figure between the two that seemed to be fleeing from them.

The fourth was the most 'normal' for mortal eyes; showing Alistair standing on the fist of the Megas as he was charging his eye beams at an unknown target. Upon further inspection, one could see Mandark's old base in the background with Dexter scaling it.

The fifth showed a figure clad in a massive ragged and sleeved cloak composed of grey and black furs. Under the hood, the figure was wearing a mask with the right side completely black and the left side being a copper-like shade of orange with a single black outlined eyehole. The rest of the figure's form was covered by the cloak but by his sides were two Fenrisian Wolves; one's fur black as night while the other's white as snow. When Zim examined it further, he noticed that behind the cloaked man were several others, armed to the teeth while adorned in mishmash outfits composed of hides, plates of armor, leather, and ammunition belts.

Ever since the Maw opened, he had been inspired by the tides of the Warp that showed the past, present, and future all at once, such inspiration was what led him to create these works of art. He would show these works to the Queen when he felt like it, except for one.

Then the Artist turned to another painting on the side of the wall, this one blank and having yet to be painted. He was waiting for his next inspiration.

And it seemed that he would not have to wait long.

It was none other than Fabius Bile; this body was a head taller than a normal Astartes, his white hair bound in a long scalp-lock, which only serves to render his already gaunt features more skeletal and emaciated. His eyes are black, having changed to match those of his Daemon Primarch, Fulgrim. Stretched over his Emperor's Children Power Armor was a floor-length coat of flayed human skin, taken from the bodies of the dead on Istvaan V. Here and there, it was possible to recognize the features of a face, a mouth stretched in an endless scream of agony or eyes wide with horror at the sight of the skinner's knife. On the coat was a belt of knotted sinew pierced through with metal loops, from which hung the tools of the Excruciator's art which included hooks, blades, spikes, pliers and barbs glittering with the promise of excruciating and exquisite pain.

Hooked into his back was a part sorcerous, part scientific device with arms in resemblance to a spider composed of metal with articulated knives, drills, bonesaws, syringes, and dispensers filled with daemon ichor hanging from golden skull hooks. In his right arm was the Rod of Torment, a jade rod with a thin spike attached to the lower end and a golden studded skull attached to the upper end, and in his left was the Xyclos Needler, a personally crafted injector-like weapon filled with his latest serums to test on his latest victims by firing needles laced with his serums.

The corrupted Apothecary was smiling thinly as he examined the black cocoon that Bell had transmogrified into. It had grown to the size of a Baneblade, now sporting red boils lining the sides that expanded and contracted like a heartbeat and thick black tentacles that rooted it to the floor. Cell samples that he had taken from the cocoon showed that her cells were undergoing a drastic restructuring, tearing apart and recombining into new forms. But what surprised him was that with each week, each sample he took was different, becoming less like cells and more like pliable cellular stacks of redundant DNA.

He was excited to see what would come out.

Just as he expected, the center of the cocoon split open as clear colored but murky mucus flowed down onto the floor, pooling around it like a newly forming lake. The tear travelled down the cocoon until it was cleanly split in twain. A single limb, white and slick with fluid, reached out from the inside, grabbing whatever it could before pulling the rest of itself out slowly, like an insect molting its shell. A head with no mouth or nose came through, covered in clear mucus as the thing's torso had emerged next, white diaphanous wings unfurled from its back as its legs wrenched themselves out of the cocoon.

The thing flopped onto the floor, twitching and moaning as it crawled to the edge of the cell where an awestruck Fabius stood.

Bell's new form was humanoid in shape, only her skin was white and hardened, gill-like protrusions were on her arms, thighs, calves, and shoulders, a red snake-like eye had replaced her navel, black diamond-like crests were imprinted on her palms, her toes had fused together making her legs look like boots. Had she had a reflection to look at, Bell would have seen her hair had fused into tentacle-like dreadlocks, a red diamond-like crest with a black exterior sat on her forehead, her face now lacked a nose, ears, and mouth, and her sclera were black, her irises dark purple in shape of diamonds with 3 glowing silver snake-like pupils. The greatest change was that Bell now sported four extensions from her back that took the resemblance of wings, the underside black with several markings that resembled circuits that constantly changed coloration in random patterns.

Fabius' mouth was open in awe, the thing in front of him was more beautiful than he could imagine. Quickly, the Apothecary turned to a nearby table, sifting through its contents before he grabbed a mirror and kneeling down to Bell, who was still struggling to even stand.

"Look upon yourself, Bell. See the beautiful thing you have become." Bile said as he showed Bell her reflection in the mirror.

Bell's odd pupils shrunk to pinpricks in horror when she saw her reflection, holding her hand up to where her mouth should have been, feeling nothing but flesh that felt like malleable plastic or rubber. Black tears fell down her cheeks in despair, now she wasn't anything close to being human. Such was her despair that she did not even resist when Fabius took another blood sample from her arm. The creature that Bell had become simple curled her wings to shroud herself before her limbs and trims of her wings blackened, not wanting to face the world anymore, not wanting others to see the monster that Bile had transmogrified her as.

The vision ended. C emitted a sound of interest as he put his fingers to his unseen mouth that pulled into a sinister smile.

"so, that's where that little girl is now..." C's voice then became a veritable purr before it became a massive boom, "HoW iNsPIrEd."

He then raised his brush to the blank canvas, letting the first stroke of this piece come. He wouldn't show the Queen this one, just a private piece of his for him to stare at.

Present Day

The Castle of Sin

Do daemons' dream?

They happen to in fact. Mandy learned this as she slept in the chambers at the precipice of her castle, laying in the red velvet sheets with the silence perpetrating the area letting her sleep to her heart's content. Guarded by both her Formless and the daemons bound to her service, the latter desperately kept silent as to not disturb the Queen from her slumber, as they remembered what happened the last time one of them had awoken her.

Several million daemons were now terrified of Warp lightning forever more.

Meanwhile, the Formless remained silent as they could not speak, taking the forms of black diligent knights with bone white skeletal markings and claymores shaped blades. As they continued their silent vigil, waiting until their Queen would awaken again.

It is said that every dream of a mortal creates a daemon as dreams are emotion and experience, same with nightmares and daydreams. Split personalities and masks that you wear, archetypes and fake personas, imaginary friends, coping mechanisms, delusions, and the like. All made manifest in the Warp, acting as their own entities tethered to the mortals that created them subconsciously.

In that sense... were they the mortals that made them? Were they echoes of things long dead? Like how Slaanesh was composed of the souls of the decadent Aeldari that rotted their great empire with their hedonism? And if they weren't, then what were they? Echoing things that glutted themselves on the evils of mortals. But if they were things born from mortals... then where they mortals themselves.

However, before any of them could contemplate this, the heavy and spike covered doors to her chambers opened.

A daemonic messenger, made of chitin and long lean limbs with a face of pulsating pink only containing dozens of suppurating ear holes, chittering as several arachnid legs skittered across the ground. It then announced rather loudly, "MY QUEEN, I HAVE A MESS-"

One of the daemons quickly pressed a clawed finger to one of his many mouths and made a SHHHHing sound while others made cutting motions with their limbs to whatever they had for throats or made gestures for him to be quiet, panicked expressions adorning their facial features before the Messenger quickly caught onto what they were trying to convey and clammed up when the Queen stirred slightly.

The daemons became still as Mandy groaned and stirred from her slumber, scared out of their wits that she will awaken and take her anger out on them for disturbing her incredibly treasured slumber. To their relief however, she merely went back to sleep.

Her daemonic watchers glared at the Messenger for nearly getting them killed, but he ignored them as he had a duty to perform.

"I have a message for the Queen." The Messenger whispered to the nearest daemon, who happened to be Dikaber, the Thousand Eyed Devourer. Dikaber was a naga-like daemon of the Undivided, possessing a marble segmented carapace with several pale serpentine eyes with needle-like fangs lining the eyelids, centipede like legs lining the sides of his serpentine lower half, the head only possessing a gaping maw of fangs.

Dikaber, despite the danger, decided to take the risk and turned to the slumbering Queen. "Gods protect me." He whispered before he slowly slithered towards the Queen still sleeping in her bed, hoping to just gently wake her so that she wouldn't be in a fool mood.

However, his attempt was foiled when Mandy's arm shot from under the sheets and grabbed him by the forearm.

"Dikaber, I trust that you have a damn good reason for waking me?" Mandy said as her face was hidden, but the daemon could feel the annoyance radiating off of her for being awoken.

The Thousand Eyed Devourer swallowed, trying to keep his composure before he replied, "You have a message."

The Queen looked up, Dikaber flinched at her burning red eyes through her disheveled red hair. Thankfully, for him, she merely muttered, "Well, what is it?" Dikaber beckoned for the Messenger to come near, who nervously complied as the Queen emerged from her bed and formed her outfit around her in a flash of red.

"The Kingslayer has arrived."

Mandy's eyes went wide before she narrowed them, "Stay here." She ordered before marching straight to the doors and left her chambers.

XXX

"I AM THE TRUE CHOSEN OF CHAOS!"

That shout came before a clash of blades as Abaddon the Despoiler then broke it and attempted to slash back at his opponent, who dodged and thrust his sword into a knee joint that cut into his armor. The Despoiler paid it no heed as he used the opportunity to slash at him with the Talon of Horus, but the warrior ducked under the swing and twisted his body, extracting the sword before attempting an upward slash.

Abaddon leaned back just as the blade grazed his armor, deciding to go on the offensive; he posed Drachn'yen for a thrust before striking, his opponent moved his head to the side that merely cut the collar of the armor. However, Abaddon then unleashed a flurry of slashes and thrusts, that were met with parry after parry from his opponent. The two clashed again before the power from their twin blades began reach a boiling point and they broke the clash in a blast of white and black.

Abaddon merely rolled his shoulders before giving a begrudging comment, "You fight well, boy."

"I am no boy; I am a Knight." His opponent shot back, readying the Slayer of Kings.

Before him was the Kingslayer, Archaon the Everchosen.

He had changed since the Queen of Daemons took him under her wing, now almost the size of Tyberos the Red Wake, the Slayer of Kings having grown in size to accommodate for his new stature, The Armor of Morkar being the same as it was now lither and allowing more freedom of movement, the Eye of Sheerian and the Crown of Domination now one with the armor and its user. However, the orange eyes under his helm burned hotter than ever, more like miniature suns than eyes.

Around them acting as the audience were his allies from the Old World: Representing Khorne were Haargroth the Blooded One, Champion of Khorne and Arbaal the Undefeated, a giant Flesh Hound-riding army-butchering Chaos Lord. Representing Slaanesh, Styrkaar, Champion of Slaanesh and Dechala the Denied One, a corrupted High Elf turned six-armed poison-oozing snake-woman. Representing Nurgle, Feytor the Tainted, Champion of Nurgle and Valnir the Reaper, the undead soul-harvester. Representing Tzeentch, Melekh the Changer and the sorcerous mutant-child Cyspeth, Champions of Tzeentch and Egrimm van Horstmann, former Magister of the Light College turned dragon-riding daemon-commanding arch-warlock.

On Abaddon's side of the audience was Lucius, Kharn, Typhus, Ahriman, Huron, Darhk, and the Black Legion, watching in interest as the Warmaster and the Kingslayer fought on. Suffice to say, all of them seemed interested at the latter's tendacity.

Wasting time no more, Archaon twirled the Slayer of Kings into a reverse grip before Abaddon struck first. The Kingslayer twirled out of the way of the strike before thrusting his blade twice toward the sides of Abaddon's head, nearly gouging his eyes but managed to bat the Slayer of Kings away at the last second, before slashing him across the chest with the Talon of Horus, but Archaon did not even flinch before he returned the slash, cleaving into Abaddon's armor.

The Kingslayer merely then unleashed a flurry of slashes and strikes against the Despoiler, who merely batted each strike to the side with Drachn'yen when suddenly Archaon twirled the Slayer of Kings in a reverse grip and swung a decapitating blow, but Abaddon leaned his head back enough for the blow to merely graze the metal around his neck and allowing a slash from his Lightning Claws.

Archaon stumbled back, clutching his chest as blood leaked through the gashes in the Armor of Morkar, the chaotic essence patching them up before he regained his footing, feeling U'zuhl rage inside the Slayer of Kings.

"You fought well, boy." Abaddon complimented as he marched towards the Kingslayer, an aura of confidence irradiating from him, "But it appears that I have won this battle and the war for control."

"No, it is you who misunderstands." Archaon says as he straightens his posture to a prouder stance, "This battle was over before it began."

Suddenly, the Slayer of Kings flashed out and Archaon disappeared.

In one flash, the hand that held Drachn'yen was severed at the elbow.

In another, the Talon of Horus was cleaved off the arm.

In two flashes, Abaddon's knees were slashed open.

And in a final flash, the chestplate was torn open to reveal his dripping white organs.

All before he could even blink.

Abaddon fell to his knees, bleeding profusely from every slash, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Archaon who then twirls the Slayer of King before sheathing it, standing proudly.

"I believe that is checkmate." Archaon's smugness was palpable, even as dark tendrils slithered from Abaddon's wounds and knitted them back together, even dragging his severed limbs so that they would be reattached. The Despoiler was about to scowl and shout when suddenly...

"Impressive."

All of the champions stopped dead before they turned to see the Queen of Daemons strutting towards them with several Formless in the shape of knights marching alongside her, and judging by the smirk that adorned her face, she had witnessed the dual between the Despoiler and the Kingslayer. The others immediately bowed to her, before she allowed them to stand with the wave of her hand.

At first, she relished in others bowing to her. Now it was just tedious.

The Queen then turned to the Despoiler and the Kingslayer, both standing proudly with their swords in resting positions. Abaddon's visage stony while Archaon's was hidden under his helm, with the stony look in his eyes hinting at the same expression as the former's. Regardless, she already knew what to do at this point.

"Abaddon, I saw that Archaon bested you in an honorable duel." The Queen questioned the Warmaster, who struggled to not frown at that the massive jab at his abilities

"The boy merely caught me off guard, your highness." "A surprise, nothing more."

The Queen merely huffed at his words, not amused in the slightest by the Warmaster's arrogance, "That was what you proclaimed when you lost to Sigismund and Eldrad. In fact, I have the distinct memory of you fighting a losing battle on Cadia, only winning because you cheated."

"Yes, and what you don't know is that you've reached by last nerve with your failings." The Queen almost sneered at a surprised Abaddon, continuing before he had a chance to speak back at her, "What you did not realize is that this battle was a test I had made. To give you one last chance. One last chance to prove that you deserved the title of Warmaster." A tone near cold enough to freeze helium then came from her next words, "And you failed."

Abaddon was practically shaking with anger at the Queen's nerve and the reality of the situation dawning on him before he yelled out, "THIS IS RIDCULOUS! I CANNOT BE REMOVED BY A MERE BOY!"

"Said 'boy' bested you, that means you lose not only your title, but your control." The Queen corrected him, not budging in the slightest before she snapped her fingers.

Suddenly, Abaddon was cleaved through the chest by the Slayer of Kings, the force erupting to the point where Abaddon had been literally thrown off his feet and was sent flying into the air before he crashed into the wall of the parapet that shattered. In a split second, the Despoiler grabbed onto the edge, sinking the claws of the Talon into the wall for more grip.

Archaon marched towards the edge where Abaddon clung on for dear life, glaring at the Kingslayer with nothing less than burning hate.

"I AM THE WARMASTER! I AM THE CHOSEN OF THE GODS! I AM EZEKYLE ABADDON!"

"AND YOU ARE DEMOTED!"

Archaon then rammed his foot into Abaddon's face, breaking him from the grip of the parapet and sending the former Warmaster falling away from the Castle of Sin and into the dark depths below. Ezekyle could only scream as he vanished into the dark, out of sight and out of mind, leaving the End of Empires laying innocently on the ground beside his feet.

The Warbands were silent, even Archaon's allies, but suddenly, the Shepard of the Damned let out a cackling howl of delight, clapping his hands together in a cacophany of dark amusement and deep abyssal satisfaction. He then walked over to the edge and then looked down to the abyss below.

"See ya, Abby!" Darhk called out to the blackness in a mocking tone, with an equally mocking wave. He then gave a nod of respect to Archaon who nodded back in a curter way.

"As you all saw," The Queen spoke up, silencing all other thoughts at the moment, "Since Archaon bested Abaddon, he is now the new Warmaster. Which means that as of this moment, you all answer to him."

Archaon then rested the Slayer of Kings on his shoulder, "With that, you all now obey my every command." Before then pointing his sword at Lucius, who blinked in surprise at the proclamation, "Including you, Lucius!"

"You wouldn't dare..." Lucius snarled at the Kingslayer, who remained both unfazed and unimpressed even as the two came face to face.

"Try me." Archaon narrowed his burning orange eyes at the Blade of Aeons, daring the Slaaneshi to make a move.

The two kept staring each other down, the tension rising as the others felt it becoming thicker and thicker as it seemed like they were about to get into another brawl between the two champions. Then, Lucius merely gives a disinterested huff and waved it off, "Whatever..."

"Good. Now..." Archaon then motioned to the pit he flung Abaddon with the Slayer of Kings, "One of you retrieve Abaddon; that failure still has some use left of him. In the meantime, all of you prepare your forces for the Black Crusade. I will finish what Abaddon started."

At this, Ahriman and Ergrimm merely summed their mounts and slowly descending down into the darkness to retrieve Abaddon from the chasm, while the others headed out to ready their forces for the next battle in the Multiversal Black Crusade. It seemed however that they seemed to be getting along just nicely, with Lucius and Styrkaar laughing and joking.

"Come my friend, let's discuss our travels." Feytor chuckled as he and Typhus jovially walked along. Even the Khornates were getting along with Kharn and Haargoth promising a duel.

"Things are looking up, huh my Queen?" Darhk jovially said to Mandy who gave a smile in return at seeing a plan come together.

"Oh, Shepard." Her smile almost scared Darhk as she proclaimed to him and all others in the Warp, "This is my world. I'm just letting you live in it."

It was so good to be the Queen.

*Think of Aizen's Muken uniform.

And that's a wrap!

Good God, this chapter was utterly a blast to write! Filled with tons of OCs including Gift, and twists and turns.

Truthfully, the original draft I had for Mandy's backstory is that she would be from an alternate history like Grim Tales, but then I thought what if I could make her story from Grim Tales fit into the Imperium. At first, she was an assassin/street urchin, then an Imperial Noble via a rare kindly Baroness that took her in, then a hidden cult leader that managed to hide in the shadows, then a puppetmaster pulling Goge Vandire's strings, then an immortal leader of the Lost and Damned, then the Everchosen, and finally a Daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided.

As for Grim Junior and Minimandy, they both gain Nergaling eyes instead of Junior getting his from Minnie. Also, Nergalings are different, more like primordial things from the abyss.

And finally, we see Abaddon being overthrown and Archaon taking his place as Warmaster of the Black Legion. Yeah, I hate Failbaddon as well. Such a disappointing character.

The Court of Flesh was based on the Skeksis from the Dark Crystal with the Baron having a human version of the Emperor's outfit in Age of Resistance. And the Crimson Court is basically... the Crimson Court from The Darkest Dungeon.

And for those that looked hard enough, yes, Asmodeus was the Ornamentalist. I won't reveal Asmodeus' origin until near the end of the story, but let's just say the more you learn about his past, the more questions you get than answers.

As for everything else, let's just say that things are going to be turned over their heads with what comes next!

Feel free to create a reaction fic or a TV Tropes page!

RIP: Robert Coltrane and Leslie Jordan. Gone, but never forgotten.

(1950-2022) and (1955-2022)