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The Great Ocean was lucid. Quiet. A black sea of infinity stretching in ways mortal minds weren't meant to comprehend. Something was wrong.
The light of his soul, his presence and power usually shifted the geometric impossibility and insanity of the Empyrean around him. Furthermore, at every corner, he usually observed predators. Shadowy, concealed creatures who would have devoured any lesser skilled navigator of their wretched realm already. But he was no mere observer. Yet, the waves took stranger courses still.
The whole cosmos before him, or at the least the portion of it within his insight, seemed to almost be holding it's breath, anticipating something. He did not like being in the dark like this. Combined with the Emperor's Tarot giving ominous warnings, it almost certainly meant something deeply rotten was brewing right underneath his nose. The Great Ocean may have been calm, but he was not.
Running out of ideas at some point or another, he fished out for any threads of fate he could find in the darkened abyss. Distant echoes, or faraway memories, perhaps already done, or perhaps yet to come. Time held rudimentary meaning here. The difference between past and future was strange and blurry. Historitor work and fortune telling was, for all intents and purposes, the same activity.
He looked through the chaos, searching for the one golden nugget of shining ethereal haze to guide him to what he was seeking. The wait was tantalizing, the echo of the thread seemingly at the corner of his eyes, yet always moving. And finally, after an amount of time he could not pinpoint, he found it.
It was a small thing, like a needle's tip in width, albeit extremely long. Though it's geometry was less chaotic than all around it, it still wildly flayed about, almost seeming to want to escape his grasp. But he had found his mark now, and seeing through the thread was as easy as breathing to him. And so he made contact with it, being taken to whatever future or past the thread had to tell.
He found himself upon a vast, sunswept desert, the blazing star searing his mind's skin. He looked around the vast horizon, searching for the object of this vision, the purpose of his deep inquiry into the Empyrean. It turned out all he needed to do was wait.
Before him, four enormous shapes presented themselves, looming over the horizon as silent, leering obelisks of foreboding. The skies turned dark, and the sands bled with color reflected by the pillars themselves, stretching far into the sky. One was of crimson, the other of azure. One of emerald, and the last of violet.
The very land began to break at the presence of the pillars, the earth cracking to reveal deep gashes, filled with what could be described as boiling blood. Seeing the vision take such a bad turn, he began preparing his mind for separation. Yet, something else caught his eye.
Behind him, a fifth pillar arose. At first but a mere spark, it soon grew and grew, eclipsing the four standing opposite to it. It's golden aura united where the other had torn, reformed where the corruption had destroyed. And unlike the others, which had reached for the darkened sky but only gone so far, the golden pillar broke through the darkness, causing the sky to shatter in it's entirety and revealing the true starry infinity above it.
At that, the vision began to crumble around him, and he felt sinister auras flare to life all near him. He dodged the first strike aimed for his head, and now fully awake from the prophetic dream he witnessed an all too familiar sight.
Warp predators had gathered around him as if a swarm of Terran hornets with their nest disturbed. It was only natural for them to be drawn to such a powerful soul as his in such a seemingly vulnerable position. Yet, as they would find out soon, fortune was not in their favor.
A staff of odd runes and tribal markings manifested by his side, a goat skull adorning the top of it, both a totem of his culture and a warning to all those who would dare take him in a fight. Yet unlike it's regular counterpart, this construct was one of willpower rather than wood, metal and bone. Cackling with the energies of his radiant mind, the staff ignited into a rod of lightning, dancing about on his fingers.
He stood ready for the creatures to make their move. And predictably, even with the display of spiritual force, they were not deterred from their gluttony. The first launched at him, the shapeless horror assuming the form of a vast shark-like beast, attempting to take off his head.
It was torn into a million pieces by the whips of electricity lashing out on their lonesome from his staff, as if rabid dogs tearing apart an intruder to their master's home. It's soul scorched to cinders, it's foul presence would never again cause harm.
Only now, having seen their fellow utterly obliterated, did the rest of the gathered beasts understand what they were dealing with. Soon, they began to melt into the background, their forms now little more than streams ingrained into the chaotic cacophony of the Great Ocean, yet nonetheless ones he regarded with extra wariness as he fell into a meditative state, while his body began to stir in the waking world.
He awoke at last, a sigh of both relief and exhaustion leaving his lips. He was glad his display of dominance had worked so easily, as if the creatures had been that bit more persistent in their hunger, they would've seen he had expended an easy half of his stamina in that one move alone.
His gamble had worked, but one couldn't help but ponder the consequences that might one day befall him, when fate at least stopped being in his favor.
He sighed once more, getting to his feet. Later. These were troubling thoughts sure, but nigh-everything that involved delving into the eldritch structure of the Warp was such a gamble. He had far more troubling developments to concern himself over given what he believed his vision to be about.
He called for his personal zart, seeing him practically materialize several moments later. He instructed him to fetch his servitors, one of his messenger brethren and the current Throne Agent present on the ship.
Several minutes later, the servitors were bolting on the last of his armor, when the two men he had requested arrived. One he knew as Batbayar, a personal servant for over 7 standard years. The other was the rowdy and hot-blooded Thomas Constantin, a trusted member of the Inquisition. After he had relayed his orders to Batbayar in their native tongue, he turned to the stern Throne Agent.
"Tell your lady much has been revealed to me. I will make planet fall soon."
"Altan, brother please! Listen to reason! We can help, w-we can take you to Nergui! I know the corruption is weak within a mind as strong as yours, plea-"
The first thing he was able to register again was blood pooling from his mouth, already hardening as he pulled himself to his feet, alert and nearly panicking. His brother moved towards unimpeded, his wrath nearly silent, except for the deep throat gurgle of his filled lungs, spittle gathering around his mouth like so many a frothing berserker he had witnessed before.
Many blood vessels had popped in his eyes, giving them the most violent shade of red imaginable. But the stare, the stare was worse. Far worse. The eyes he bore were ones of a predator starved for months on end, now staring upon ample prey after so long. Only the hunger his brother was one for blood and violence, rather than meat and nourishment. He acted on pure bloodlust now, any sign of higher intellect gone, corrupted just as the massive scar on his body was engulfing the rest of it.
He swung his arm once more, unknown ferocity and speed propelling it far faster than he had ever observed before. Gan feebly attempted to block, only to be hit with the force of a speeding Land Raider. He stood his ground, barely, but his brother did after all possess two arms, and another brutal strike sent him reeling.
Many blood vessels had popped in his eyes, giving them the most violent shade of red imaginable. But the stare, the stare was worse. Far worse. The eyes he bore were ones of a predator starved for months on end, now staring upon ample prey after so long. Only the hunger his brother was one for blood and violence, rather than meat and nourishment. He acted on pure bloodlust now, any sign of higher intellect gone, corrupted just as the massive scar on his body was engulfing the rest of it.
He swung his arm once more, unknown ferocity and speed propelling it far faster than he had ever observed before. Gan feebly attempted to block, only to be hit with the force of a speeding Land Raider. He stood his ground, barely, but his brother did after all possess two arms, and another brutal strike sent him reeling.
This could not go on. Altan had always been a mighty hand-to-hand combatant, and with this new treacherous boost in power and swiftness Gan stood no chance. So he simply chose to retreat, and meet back up with any of his companions that may have remained. He would have to extract Altan later, and purify him at their leisure. One thing was for certain, his persuasion was not going to work on any level, as he had clearly observed.
He turned and attempted to sprint. His pride was a small price to pay for salvation. Yet within the first few seconds, he felt a hulking mass pin him to the ground, intent on ripping his head off with both hands. Altan had evidently caught up with him, and extremely easily as well. He attempted to pry the fingers open with both hands, yet it was worthless, as they were like adamantium vices, unyielding and relentless.
He felt his neck muscles flexed and stressed like never before, as if suffering from pulling them in a far too difficult exercise, with the pain and the burn only getting worse as Gan thrashed about, desperately attempting to free himself. His pace became more and more frantic as he felt his crazed brother pull harder and harder. He was nearly beginning to hear and feel the first few cracks in his vertebrae before a final thought for salvation popped into his mind.
The Melta Gun. Altan's prized possession. His instrument of righteousness, burning the filth of the unclean and the unworthy, now disregarded as it's owner clawed at his brother like a mindless beast. He had last the weapon dangling from his brother's body, apparently holstered somehow despite his near instantaneous dispatching by the mighty beast that had felled his mind.
He clawed desperately at his brother's body, attempting to grasp anything in the shape of the gun as he became more and more delirious and desperate, the pressure on his spine increasing more and more as he could practically feel his muscles tearing at the inhuman strength being exerted upon it. After several terrifying seconds of frantically searching, he at last grasped something that fit the general shape of what he was looking for.
Pure instinct took over then. He directed the weapon as best as he could against his attacker, and pulled the trigger. Suddenly, he felt a tremendous heat wave near his head, but the pressure that was threatening to crack his neck let up, and he turned around immediately, nearly blacking out from the sudden loss of force. Yet his stance did not devolve, as he quickly regained his bearing and turned to his brother.
The sight that greeted him was one of a living nightmare. Altan's face, already distorted from his horrid transformation, was now a sagging mess, bloody and burnt. His chestplate, already damaged was now a pitch black mess, barely being held together. But it's owner didn't care. He was in clear pain, and yet his insanity only seemed to have worsened from the weapon's assault. He snarled and growled and roared at Gan, before charging once more.
Yet the horrible hit had taken it's heavy toll, as Gan was effortlessly able to dodge and then trip the creature, which fell with a resounding thump upon the ground. And that was the key word in his mind: creature. After this, the distortion, the suicidal rage, the need to spill blood of a former Battle-Brother despite his already compromised life. In that, Gan no longer saw Altan. A putrid beast was all he had been reduced to, no different from a daemon of Chaos.
And so, without a heavy heart, or even last words, Gan unloaded the weapon upon the monster in front of him, reducing armor to molten slag and blood to steaming vapor, as the horrid, misshapen thing let out a final death shriek.
He threw away the Melta Gun, as if diseased, and looked back towards the helmet that Altan had once worn. The last symbol of his that had remained uncorrupted, discarded right before his spiritual death, one of it's "eyes" cracked, yet staring at him. Gan walked towards it, picking it up and inspecting it with heavy eyes.
"Never again," he said, putting it on.
"I don't usually like being deprived of a good meal you know. But, it's all well. After all, I now have two sources to sate my desire for appetizers: you, and the girl!"
Words could not describe the sight Batu had before his eyes. The creature was monstrous and repulsive in a manner entirely different from the Bloodthirster he had seen rampage before. It's facial and bodily features were adorned with inhuman beauty, the very aura in the air making it uncharacteristically attractive even to one such as him. But for someone trained in the hows and whys of Chaos, Batu could see the corruption laying just below the skin.
A Slaaneshi Keeper of Secrets was among the worst daemons one could hope to encounter. Unnaturally powerful creatures both physically and mentally, they could strip a whole planet bare of it's atmosphere, or just take it over with their sheer presence, enough to win over and corrupt most average men, especially the unhappy lower class and constantly toiling citizens most Civilized Worlds possessed.
A Greater Daemon being here was already sign of a disaster brewing, but now that two had shown up? From rival Gods? This spoke of a far more rooted operation than Batu could've ever imagined. Yet this information would not matter in the slightest if he did not live to tell it. He slowly attempted to back away, only for something to strike the roof to the side of him before he could even react.
Only then did he see the tentacle retracting and the monster's smile grow into a wicked grin.
"Oh come now. Leaving so soon? I simply can't have that. Especially since that child...oooooh, her dreams, her fears, they are so succulent. And as for you...hmm, the spawns of the Anathema are sooooo dry and bland at first, but you'll come around. All that is required," the daemon was practically salivating now, long grotesque tongue wrapping around it's sharp teeth. "Is a bit of time for seasoning to kick in."
Batu truly was at a loss for what to do. He possessed no weapons aside from a simple Bolt Pistol, an effective tool in any other circumstance, yet completely useless before the terror that stood against him. And as for escaping, he was having difficulty even keeping his head clear at this time, the daemon's suffocating aura like a brick weighing down upon his head, whispers and tendrils of desire reaching into his ear and mind.
The daemon however didn't seem to like sitting idly by, and hoisted him up effortlessly with one of it's many tentacles, it's manic grin only increasing the closer he was brought to it's face. He made a feeble attempt at moving his pistol, but found his arms restrained. In fact, his entire body had been wrapped in tentacles sprouted from the already disgusting appendage, digging into his armor, harder and harder.
"Oh we can't have that. The fun is just about to start."
That's when he felt his armor begin to burst at the seams, as pressure built up more and more, and he felt himself as if inside a machine press. He suppressed the urge to scream as he looked on to the horrid thing, handling the child in another slick appendage, eyeing her as a predator would a helpless and dying herbivore. It's eyes however turned back to him, and to his suffering, only increasing as he felt the tentacles growing only tighter, closer to himself.
They could snap him in half at a moment's notice, but such a thing would not please the dark being before him. But instead of giving it what it wanted, he focused on keeping his mind as blank as possible. If he were to die here, he would at the very least die spiteful to the very end.
Ah yes. Death. He had never truly thought about it. Something he always knew was coming, yet never focused on. It was only natural really, for one such as himself. They all already knew the cycle by the time they were inducted. They would fight, they would die. Fated to kill until finally being killed. The glory achieved, the victories and triumphs over the centuries, they were the meaning behind it all. The journey truly did matter, but the destination always remained the same.
In truth, he had no regrets. None that mattered, at any rate. Of course the choice of location for his final resting place was crass and unsuited to him, and the methods by which he was meeting his end could be considered downright embarrassing. But in the end, these were all shallow criticisms. He was dying upon a war-wracked world, after having fought with dogged determination to save it, only falling against one of the most dangerous and powerful beasts known to man. A fate many a Imperial warrior would never possess the luck of sharing.
He stared at the daemon with unflinching eyes, a sign that he would not give it it's satisfaction until the very end. But as he felt the creeping, ever more distorted mass of tendrils probe him, something familiar was also felt. Something greater, something beyond the daemon before him.
And just like that, a thunderous flash and a heavy bang later, he had to fallen to the ground, slightly disoriented and definitely worse for wear, but alive. And before him was a sight that looked out of a vision, a dream.
Where the daemon had been mere microseconds ago, a great fulmination enlightened the sky, the creature having retracted back, it's features having grown hideous and distorted by rage. From the cackling orb of lightning and energy, a lone silhouette could be distinguished, wielding a weirdly shaped implement as tall as itself. The daemon attempted to swipe at the unknown assailer, but a tendril of electricity, as if a snake striking at it's prey, caught it effortlessly, severing the appendage.
The arm fell to the ground, tainted flesh of immaterial nature still sizzling as it dissolved away into Warp flame. The creature did not seem too mindful of it's newly removed appendage, though it's anger did increase as it hissed at the source of the light with an inhuman sound, sending even the hairs on the back of Batu's neck standing. A massive energy build-up could be seen inside the creature's throat, directed right for the lightning-infused warrior.
A blinding beam shot out of it's unnaturally elongated mouth, releasing a sound Batu could only describe as Hell itself. The great sphere of energy seemed to flinch at first, before it took a more defensive stance and weathered out the mighty assault. Emerging from the haze left over, the sphere seemed less intense, it's brightness dialed back, yet it still persisted.
Suddenly, it rocketed forth, straight at Batu. Yet the old warrior was not distressed as the electricity cackled nearer and nearer. He knew now exactly who this mysterious being was. As the sphere engulfed him, he was met with a familiar sensation, and more importantly, a familiar sight. Before him was an esteemed brother clad in unmistakable white armor, painted in various glyphs and laden with various purity seals. Yet the time was short, and they could not properly greet, instead exchanging a single nod as the sphere was rocked once more.
Batu looked around, concerned somewhat about his last remaining companion, only to see her there, still unconscious but appearing to be breathing, wreathed in the harmless lightning of their protective supernatural membrane. Batu could not see outside the sphere, but he could only guess that it was not exactly being handled gently by the enraged daemon, which had been striped of it's prey.
Suddenly, he felt a burst of acceleration, as the sphere was presumably carried far away, yet the occasional impact still rocked it. Eventually, the momentum ground to a halt, and the sphere dissipated around them, almost as if it had never existed in the first place. Only then did the helmeted warrior broke his iron concentration to gaze upon his brother. They both bowed to one-another, before removing their helms in a sign of respect.
Few words could accurately describe the look of the Son of Thunder, the prodigious Stormseer Nergui. He truly was the splitting image of their great Primarch, long flowing ebony contained in a ponytail, distinct facial features shaped like a hawk, and eyes black and seemingly sunken yet cackling with power and strength beyond measure. The only significant distinction between them was his far rougher facial hair, while the Khan's had been as clean as it could get, and Nergui's crooked nose, appearing as if the silhouette of an eagle.
"Brother, it is good to see you yet live. Far too many times this day have I discovered a not so fortunate fate for the rest of our detachment here."
Batu's slight smile at the sight of the old master waned. He knew full well by now the heavy toll the world would have wreaked upon the similarly unsuspecting scores of their brothers, just as it had their own.
"How many? How may have you seen die?"
Nergui clearly hesitated at that.
"Too many," he turned his eyes from the sky to him once more. "How many have you?"
"The same," Batu said, his voice laden with grief despite his best efforts. "This world has reaped us of too many souls."
"Are you and this child the only survivors, old friend?" Nergui looked distressed and incredulous despite himself.
"I...do not know. I have not seen Gan since he went to retrieve Altan. They may both still be alive, but at the same time...," he could only sigh, looking up at Nergui, who was a good head taller than his already impressive frame. "Can you track them?"
"Perhaps, but their psychic signature will be muddled, to say the least, from all the...activity happening currently," Nergui had a thoughtful expression upon his features. "Furthermore, it will be difficult to investigate without alerting that creature from earlier, and even now I fear we may be found and slaughtered."
"But, you harmed it. You could keep it at bay."
"Yes, but only for a little while. I am strong, very strong, but these beings, these daemons, they have the power to crush the very planet we stand upon with but a mere flex of their abilities, if they so desired. It would simply be counterproductive for them to do so, as they have come for souls and conquest, not total annihilation. I can barely contend with such a power for longer than minutes at a time, and I do not know if I can be pushed as I was back there and still be of use," Nergui then sat down, throwing a Bolter strapped to his belt at Batu. "I will attempt my best to locate any survivors. I will reawaken as soon as danger might present itself. But I trust you to not allow that to happen either."
"Tchh, you act as if I couldn't do so even without it," Batu bantered, somewhat awkwardly holding the weapon. Could he not have gotten a Bolt Pistol?
His brother falling into the all too mysterious death-like slumber of psychic meditation, Batu turned his attention to the sole other living being there.
Mira had not woken up since he had seen her. Undoubtedly seeing and feeling such an overwhelming aura would have affected her to a far greater extent that it did him. However, he also regarded the child with caution. There was no telling what that horrid thing had done to her before he arrived, and she could very well already have been corrupted like regular humans so easily could. As soon as they had the chance, he would have Nergui look her over. He hated the thought of having to purge such a determined soul, but if he felt pity for every heretic he slaughtered he would have gone mad.
Only after resolving that little issue in his mind, did he finally see where they had been taken. The building was spacious, but the collapsed walls and pillars made it seem less so. Glass and open exhibitions littered the grand open hall they found themselves in, ruined beyond any kind of recognizing, but still telling of the original nature of the structure. That this building had served some sort of display purpose, likely a museum, was unquestionable.
The room seemed stuffy, dust and sand most certainly making the environment not pleasant to breathe for an average human. He was reminded once more of their young companion, only to be interrupted again by the cackling of his Vox-caster. Shock at first ran through him, then relief as he realized someone at the very least must have made it out. His excitement was tempered somewhat when only static greeted him on the other end, but soon that static turned into a voice.
"Gan here."
A voice that only served to halt his joy altogether. The man beyond the Vox was indeed Gan, yet at the same time it was not him. It seemed almost as if the effect he had suffered earlier from Ganbaatar's death had only been magnified a thousand fold. His voice was like a frozen dagger, cutting with inhumanly cold precision, and bereft of all feeling save an emotionless contempt.
"Batu speaking. What happened Gan? Where are you? Did you find Altan?"
Kronos tore apart the last of the Horrors without a shred of mercy or a second thought. To him they were an obstacle to his goal of reuniting with his posse, and nothing more. Composed of Warp dust, creatures of pure malign spirit and nothing more, even more worthless than the dirt underneath his feet. He knew something terrible had to have happened. But to see so many daemons gathered in a single place like this?
Something far darker than even he could've imagined had happened upon this world. And it's effects were only getting worse and worse as he saw the very land around shift and change the textures all being corrupted in their own ways. Spreading and spreading, more and more ground was covered. Streets, buildings, entire city blocks had fallen victim to the crystalline, bizarre architecture of the Changer of Ways alone, not to mention the sizable domains his rivals were gathering at the same time.
The situation only kept escalating further and further. They needed to get off this planet, and soon. He needed to find the others, as quickly as he possible, for another reason aside from merely reuniting.
Along with the corrupting influence he could feel in the very air around him, something else had shined upon this world. A beacon, a point of light amidst a growing and all-encompassing ocean of dark. He knew not what it was, or where it came from, but it seemed to add another, different edge to the atmosphere around him, not exactly one of calm amidst the thundering storm of hellish Warp energy, but yet something oddly supportive, something familiar.
That feeling however was dimmed as he felt an eruption of power behind him, a sinister aura thick like the smog clouds upon a planet-wide Manufactorum. He turned around to find this odd presence, and was greeted with a collapsing building and a feathered silhouette erupting in a blaze of azure fire. A Lord of Change, a Tzeentchian daemon of the highest caliber.
"Oh if it isn't the Fatebreaker, Kronos. We have seen what you have to bring, oh yes we have. Or perhaps, it is not to be at all," the mad cackling voice fit the monstrosity almost perfectly, it's avian head closing and opening in an unnatural manner. "Nonetheless, we cannot allow you to leave here, oh no we can't. You are far, far too great a danger to the great plan. Or perhaps, it's final pawn?"
The creature didn't continue on it's self-contradictory tirade for long however, as it raised it's massive khopesh-style sword and aimed it at Kronos. He knew the limits of his body. The limits of his design. How the Warp empowered it's denizens, especially denizens this influential, with strength he could not hope to match. That said, Kronos was still ready to put up a fight.
A fight which was cut dreadfully short as the abomination moved quicker than what even he could react. Having been launched with the force of a city-shattering impact, Kronos properly came to at the crescendo of his flight, before quickly seeing the ground approaching him. He attempted to get in a position to land on his feet, yet his suit would not obey him.
And thus he crashed into the ground. A minor annoyance all things considered, even though it would have caused most lesser creatures to get reduced to mush. More critically however, he felt his suit a stiff mesh around himself, not the seamless layer of second skin it usually felt that. His helmet had gone dark, and only after forcibly prying it from his head could he see the damage done.
He was lucky to not have been split in twain, the gash across his armor was that great. All the hydraulics, the cabling, nearly everything had been torn, broken and strained in some measure. A work of art, a priceless piece of technology fashioned by mastery hardly repeated in any capacity by all but the most skilled artisans, reduced to worthless scrap.
But that was far from his greatest worry. He had been dispatched this easily from a single blow from a single beast. And for all he knew, and felt, there were more of these Warp beasts, as surely as powerful as that had been, or perhaps even more so.
Yet, there was something else. Only now did he fully notice where exactly he had crashed, and yet again something jogged within his memory. Something ancient was here. Something he knew, yet didn't know. He got to his feet, discarding most of his armor, keeping some of the skin glove, and his spear. He moved through the deep catacomb, unsure whether following a way out or this unknown urge.
Author's notes: Another one gets uploaded. Wew.
Yup, lotsa a things happened this chapter. Still not as many as there should have been. That ending especially is cliffhanger-y as fuck even for me, and I'd like to elaborate further on what exactly it will mean in the future, but eh, just feel like I have to get this one out there first. Cookies to anyone who actually guesses though.
Oh yeah, reviews and favorites are always appreciated and all. I see this story receiving a lot of love on that later department, yet not the former? I definitely enjoy the former more, not gonna lie.
Anyway, that's been it for this time. Thank you guys, and happy December I guess. I probably won't update before that is over, so just getting it out there. Dome of Bones out.