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He awoke slowly. Pain wracked every portion of his body, a paralyzing sensation that dulled even his enhanced biology. Yet, while his body ached, his head was an entirely different beast. He was struggling to merely organize his thoughts as he measly attempted to get up.
Yet the pain was not long lasting, and only a few moments had passed before he managed to get to his feet. The sight that greeted his eyes was not one he was expecting in any capacity.
Instead of a cavernous opening absolutely crawling with ancient technology and barely illuminated by the dimming light of senile and dying generators, before him spread a white sea of nothingness. An empty, milky expanse seemingly stretching infinitely in every direction. The whiteness was bright, yet not hurtful to the eyes at all. He questioned where in the blasted Warp he even was, before that thought immediately reminded him.
The gemstone. It had done something. What it was, he knew not for certain, yet he was almost certainly connected to the hellish realm now. This drastic shift of environment, the strange and downright impossible place he found himself in, they were all telltale signs. He stood on guard, expecting something to shift the terrain into an incomprehensible nightmare-scape very soon, yet nothing came.
It was only then that he realized he had no clothes on. Not one bit of his armor remained strapped to his body, nor the broken pieces of his spear, nor even a simple cloth to preserve his modesty. He had no use for such poultry concepts of course, but it still distressed him that whatever could happen in this place would all go down by way of pure physical brawl. Yet, after some time observing the surrounding area more, it seemed that would not be necessary.
A figure seemed to be approaching from the light. Yet, it's presence did not invite hostility. It should, for all intents and purposes, have flared his martial instincts, yet for whatever reason he found himself calmed rather than alarmed. The figure made it's way through the vast expanse quickly, reaching him with an ethereal, yet graceful speed. Only when it was close could he tell any distinguishing features apart from the white background it merged so well with.
The being's features were fuzzy, shifting, as if being viewed from a corrupted pict-capture. Yet, he could tell a distinct female form was before him. The being seemed like not much more than merely a silhouette, except for the eyes, which glowed ever so slightly more than the rest of the body. Yet, those were not the most peculiar feature.
Two wings emerged from it's back, slightly possessing of a different light, one in the hues of gold rather than pure supernova white. He attempted to reach out to the figure, yet he never got the chance to.
"It is not time yet."
The voice had been the first thing in a long time to startle him, and he suddenly found himself looking all around for it's source. He found nothing at first. The titanic void was as empty as it had been, save for the strange apparition who was even now sinking back into the light it had emerged from. He ran after it, intent on not losing the only thing analogous to a real creature inside of this strange place, but no matter how fast he sprinted he could not catch up to the angelic being, that seemed to simply sink back into the horizon.
He stood, motionless, despair gripping his spirit, only now realizing the full extent of the sublime effect the presence had been granting him. Yet, before the loss could fully set in, yet another unexpected development took him out of it.
"You will meet her, soon enough."
A firm hand gripped his shoulder, and he instinctively turned his body and threw a mighty punch. His fist was like lightning, yet whatever had touched him was faster still. He found himself trapped, his hand held firmly in place. Yet, as he snapped out of pre-programmed combat maneuvers, he finally laid eyes on the presence he had felt.
Another surreal experience to add to the list of this day, before him stood the very same armor that he had been interacting with mere moments before. Or was it hours? He really could not tell in this place.
Yet, it was also different. The wears and tears of age had all but been eroded from it's frame, it's plating glistening as if having come out of a manufactorum mere hours ago. And while it's eyes were normally crimson gemstones, now a golden light shone through them, far more brilliant than the rest of the armor, or indeed, any of the surrounding white background. And within those blazing orbs of power, he felt something he had not felt in a long time. Something familiar and comforting beyond measure.
"Kronos. My son. You have done well to make it this far," it said in a comforting voice.
The figure let go of his hand, and Kronos could only take a step back in disbelief. At any other time, any other circumstances, he would've most certainly been suspicious, downright hostile to such a presence. But those glistening orbs...
They filled him with safety and trust he knew only one being truly could. There was no mistaking that vision. No simulating it's glory, it's weight, it's sheer dominating aura and charisma. And while it wasn't felt as strongly as in the flesh, Kronos knew exactly what he was looking at, even if his tired and battered mind was still struggling to grasp such a reality.
"M-my...my Emperor?"
The armor seemed to think, somehow emoting the idea even through it's cold visage, before answering warily.
"In a matter of speaking, yes."
Kronos frowned at that, his excitement tempered. What exactly did he mean by that?
The armor...Emperor...the being before him seemed to notice this discomfort.
"Come, let us walk for some time," he gestured for the Custodian to follow him. "I have much to explain."
Kronos joined him, still unsure. They began walking towards an unspecified point, seemingly careless of direction. A small, pregnant silence hung before the armor once more spoke.
"You have many concerns I can tell, least of all what we're doing here," it was hard to describe the tone. It sounded like the voice of a man, but not much beyond that could be discerned by him. It was a rather generic voice, with almost nothing to make it stand out, aside from an echo seemingly produced by the suit.
"You have the observational skills of my Emperor. Yet...your cryptic answer does not help matters."
"It is not cryptic. It is merely the truth my son. I both am and am not the Emperor you know."
"How?"
"You noted the advanced age of the containment chamber you found this armor in, did you not?" it said, while pointing towards itself.
Kronos merely nodded.
"I am a relic. A past fragment left there from a bygone era," the armor now looked upward, as if it could see in intricate detail something Kronos could not even grasp. "Many millennia ago, when mankind were masters of the stars, unrivaled in their dominance, I was their shepherd and protector from the shadows. I traveled to many worlds. Left some things, gathered some others. And through it all, I grew both my pool of knowledge and power."
And even as he said that, the very terrain seemed to shift around. At first it was a harrowing experience, yet Kronos calmed down soon upon seeing how composed his guide was, and that the changing void had no impact on him whatsoever. Before him, the whiteness gave way to pure black, eventually being illuminated by the light of stars, and at least earth sprung up around him, massive metropoles stretching out in front of him.
Then he realized where they were. The dunes were still distinctive even among all the advancement. Sors seemed to have once been a truly prosperous world, eclipsing even the beauty of Old Terra he had come to see under the benevolent guidance of the Emperor in some aspects. But when exactly was this? What time was he being shown?
"The Dark Age of Technology," the armor replied without needing a prompt. "Humanity's peak. One I was sadly never able to reach with my limited time as sole ruler, far too bogged down from reversing the effects of Old Night, and then keeping my nascent Imperium together. Yet, in those times, I was not yet so concerned. We were one of the dominant species in the galaxy, our will unmatched by any save one. My guidance needed not be anything more than a gentle, tugging hand."
The armor shook it's head.
"But that is not a tale to tell now," it looked once more over the expansive cityscape. "I had a small private lab here. Back then, this world was known as Maxima, the jewel of human colonies within 500 parsecs. It was here, that in no great grandeur, nor any ceremony, that the prototype for all my forces would be forged. My own personal battle plate for some time, left as a back up after my return to Terra."
At that, Kronos finally reacted.
"What?"
The armor seemed almost amused.
"It is true," it said, facing the Custodian. "The armor you see before you is where every other suit of Custodes power armor has come from. It is called the Armaturam Progressus, and from it every piece of equipment you, my golden guardians, now wield was born."
The revelation that he had so carelessly handled such a precious relic made Kronos silent despite himself. Even beyond his dislike for sentimentality, such disregard stabbed into his consciousness. He had been inconsiderate almost to the point of crime.
"Do not fret, my son," the armor spoke once more, it's ability to simply read Kronos like an open book now made readily apparent. "You had no way of knowing. And such things must be behind you now. It is merely a tool to be used, nothing more, nothing less."
Kronos finally looked up once more to meet those burning golden embers, and dropped to one knee.
"My lord...father...forgive me for ever doubting you. I should have known...I should have known when I felt your presence..." he said, as he lowered his head in shame and obedience both.
A firm grip once more was placed on his shoulder.
"Rise, Kronos, for as I said, you have done well to make it this far."
He did as asked, yet his mind was once more conflicted, and he now knew the armor could tell such a thing easily. So he instead simply decided to speak his mind.
"My lord, if I may ask, how can you talk to me through this armor?And..." it was only then that he remembered how he was transported in this strange mental plane in the first place. "What was that gemstone? How did it do this?"
"I was just about to elaborate on that," the armor seemed to take a deep breath, even if for all intents and purposes it should've been impossible for it to do so. "You see, my son, this is why I said I am both the Emperor you know, and yet not. I am a fragment of his soul split off many millennia ago, bound to a special gemstone enchanted with arcane properties by mine own hand."
The terrain dissolved away, until only the stars remained, with both of them standing floating in the void of space.
"I had no concerns during these days, not in the conventional sense. But my senses still blared. Alas, I foretold this state would not last forever. I knew of the terrors awaiting mankind at the gaping maw of oblivion it was about to stumble upon. But I had not tested them yet. I knew not to what exact extent their powers stretched. And when I finally received premonitions about the birth of the Eye of Terror, I realized I would need contingencies for the coming storm."
"Using the arcane knowledge I had accumulated over the millennia, I split my soul into many different pieces, each one inferior to the one remaining in my body, yet each one capable of aiding me should the time ever arise. That time came once, when at the end of Old Night, I pulled together as many fragments of myself as I could to aid me in my Primarch Project."
The armor shifted it's blazing eyes from the heavens to Kronos now.
"That time has now come once more. You will don this armor, and merge with it's fragment. My fragment."
Kronos dropped to his knees immediately, overwhelmed.
"My lord, I would be honored beyond comparison. But, why? Why not use such precious power to further aid yourself, in your maintaining of the Golden Throne?" it was then that a cord of maddening panic struck him. "The Throne...the Throne still s-stands, correct? Terra still stands, correct?!"
The armor nodded once, keeping a steady gaze on him, and Kronos immediately felt a sense of calm overtake him.
"Worry not, my son. The Throneworld still endures. I can feel my gestalt wholeness upon it, shining brighter than ever before. Though beyond that I can give you no more assurance. In truth mine own cognition of my true self is immensely limited. I only received a flash, a brief glimmer from it a day ago, when you arrived."
Realization swiftly dawned on the Custodian.
"Then y-you..."
"Yes, my intervention anchored you to the physical plane once more, yet I was only able to do it because of the great tear between real space and the Empyrean created upon this world. I had no knowledge of you before then, and only the flash from my greater whole informed me. Truly, the most perfect yet most disadvantageous of circumstances."
"I s-see," Kronos choked on his words, and almost began crying despite himself. So, he has been...he has been watching me all this time...
The armor nodded, as it pulled Kronos to his feet.
"Rise, Custodian. The time runs out," the armor looked around as if perceiving something Kronos could not, before slowly speaking once more. "You are strong, mighty indeed to have made it this far. Yet the path ahead is far too treacherous for you to navigate alone. Through my power, you will become the sickle with which I shall reap the weeds of corruption, discord and destruction from my empire. From henceforth, you are no mere member of the Legio Custodes."
The armor's voice rose higher and higher, until a practical chorus was exploding from it, as the starry backdrop of space shifted to that of the golden throne room of Old Terra.
"From henceforth, you are the spear of unity. The bane of Chaos. You are the Emperor's Fist. And you act as one with his will."
The armor pointed towards a spot right in front of the exquisite throne, and Kronos obeyed. The armor itself moved, shifted into motion as if a ghost, taking a seat atop the throne, and right in that moment Kronos could swear he saw the firm but warm visage of his liege and father. A great spear, carved to such intricate and minute detail that Kronos could not make out all of it even with his enhanced vision, materialized in it's hands, with the massive gemstone that had started all this as it's tip.
The armor looked downward, and Kronos instinctively knew to bow.
"Let this be the last time you ever show deference to another individual not of your destiny," the armor said, as it positioned the spear near his neck. "Until we meet again, on Old Terra. I sacrifice now my will, to give you the power to reforge the galaxy in my name."
The armor shifted the spear once more, now aiming for Kronos' heart.
"Only in death does duty end."
Kronos knew not why he said those words. They merely came as if a second breath. They had seemed appropriate.
The armor merely nodded. It pulled back, before thrusting the spear forwards directly into him. There was no pain, only the world around him going white.
A lightning whip the length of a Warhound Titan flared forth, deliberately missing them entirely and smiting some unfortunate and now very deceased threat beyond the walls. Batu looked back to see Nergui awakened and alert, if looking a little worse for wear, his eyes sunken like a sleepless mortal. None needed to be told what would follow.
Gan was the first to act after that, barreling forwards at blinding speeds and crashing straight through several walls, a makeshift opening being left behind. Almost forgetting, Batu grabbed the unconscious child with as much care as he could in the circumstances presented, and bolted towards his brother as Nergui was left past to do something.
Batu was not worried, and sure enough, seconds later he joined them on the outside, with the building collapsing behind as he fled. That will not keep them for long, Batu thought.
But it would keep them for long enough. He glanced at Gan, as the later glanced toward him as well. His posture was unreadable, but his physical state spoke volumes. If Batu had to guess, he'd say Bloodletters. No other daemon possessed a burning effect such as that. Only now did he noticed that his Lascannon had been ripped to shreds, despite still hanging on his back. His Combat Knife and Bolter were nowhere to be found either.
But they had not the time to dwell. As expected, daemons once more converged upon them, yet it was not from behind, but in front. And it was certainly not what Batu was expecting.
Soon, like locusts swarming, a great horde of Nurglings and Plaguebearers surged forth from every building, every corner, nook and cranny, as if in hiding. The bloated, rotting pests made even Batu's hardened stomach lurch. Merely looking at them was as close as possible as one could get to objective disgust, and Batu was glad for his helmet's air filter.
Underneath their feet, the very earth seemed to revolt on itself, regular land becoming sick and corrupted. Grotesque patterns formed wherever the putrid beings stepped, as if the very planet was being sickened, bloated and corrupted to the core by the mere presence of the immaterial threats.
Nergui moved to the front of their formation, his eyes cackling with energy, but otherwise doing nothing. He stood perfectly calm and still against the opposing horde, his features hardened and thoughtful, yet unmoving.
"Brother Nergui?"
"They are not the true threat," he muttered in a hushed voice, yet did not turn nor do anything else.
The group grew ever closer, their advance slow and methodical, much like the Plague Father himself. Despite himself, Batu found worry beginning to grow inside of his heart. He trusted the Stormseer with all of his hear, yet he had said nothing. Done nothing. What could he possibly been waiting for?
He noted Gan seemed extremely on edge as well, practically twitching in place as he stared dead into the center of the advancing daemon army. He was jittery, and his one good arm clenched and unclenched disturbingly.
"Don't even think about engaging them at close range," Nergui muttered, having stopped Gan before his muscles could twitch and his mind could fire off the necessary neurons. He looked at the Stormseer, his expression unreadable through his helm.
"You know full well the dangers of facing the spawns of Nurgle, and both of you have your armors compromised," Nergui continued staring at some point beyond the horde. "More importantly, as I said, they are not the true threat."
Only then, as if one queue, did the subject of Nergui's concerns became apparent. Some distance behind the encroaching mass of filth and diseases given life, an entire apartment complex was smashed apart, and a towering figure emerged from the rubble.
Even in comparison to the vile monstrosities moving towards them, the giant creature was truly a wretched thing, pus and bile spewing out of every orifice in it's bloated, carcass-like body. Batu could almost see the smell emanating from the seething mass of rotten and diseased flesh that made up it's entirety. It was as tall as two Land Raiders turned upwards and stacked on each-other, and nearly as wide along the waist. It's face harbored a disgusting grin, with sharpened yellow teeth not so much falling off as sagging away.
It's three glowing emerald eyes formed a pattern that all but confirmed the already known. It was a herald of the Plague Father, a disgusting fetid Neverborn with power far beyond the ordinary. It was a Great Unclean One, and it rumbled towards them along with it's small army.
At the sight of what he had been anticipating revealed at last, Nergui tensed, before putting on his stylized helm. Moments after, it's optics came to life, though not by any means powered by the armor's generator, as the normally crimson orbs cackled with golden lightning. Nergui spared a glance to his Battle-Brothers, before the Bolter strapped to his hip flew straight towards Gan, who caught it with his remaining arm.
Immediately afterwards, both he and Batu felt an odd energy within them, exploding throughout their bodies as their vision became blurry for but a moment, before returning more vibrant and detailed than before. Their muscles, despite having gone through severe stress that day, felt better than optimum condition, swelling with untold energy. Their very perception seemed to have slowed, as everything that moved did so almost at a snail's pace.
Only a few seconds later did they realize the source of this sudden boost. They both looked towards the Stormseer, whose frame was already being enveloped by tendrils of electricity.
"I hope the power I graft onto you will be enough to brace against the horde, brothers," he spoke in their native tongue. "But I cannot help you beyond that. I will have to keep that at bay."
He turned toward the Great Unclean One lumbering toward them, crushing buildings underneath it's massive, pillar-like legs.
"Extraction will be delivered to us. Hopefully. If it is not, take solace in all of us dying a worthy death."
The Stormseer locked eyes with the great beast of filth, and it seemed to noticed him too. The psychic behemoths sized each-other up, before a burst of lightning levitated Nergui off the ground.
"For the Emperor, and Jaghatai Khan!"
He blasted away towards his foe, towards his death most likely, and when the dust settled, his brothers responded with a shout that could split the skies, as they themselves engaged in a battle for their lives.
"Honored be his name!"
Zeno fled. He could do nothing but flee. But, in a more calm mood, he may have asked himself what the purpose of fleeing from the very thing he created was.
He had brought this upon his world. He was fully aware of the potential consequences. But that bastard Xephos...
He never could have anticipated destruction of this magnitude. But then again, he had been a fool to believe a dog of Chaos without any backup plans. Now, all he had worked for was ruined, his hopeful ambitions destroyed.
He thought back to all the lives he had destroyed, all the people killed in this endeavor, all for a plan that was truly reaching even in the best case scenario, and now lay in ruins much like the planet he had sought to save. As he kept moving, thinking of all his sins, he frequently questioned why he even had the gall to keep going.
But he knew why. There was one last place on this doomed world, one ancient and washed in the sands of time, yet radiating with untold energies and purifying aura. He saw that as the last place to ask for forgiveness before he was erased along with the earth he trod upon.
The daemons knew who he was at the very least, and so long as he didn't get close they ignored him. It was advantageous, for he would have died several times already. But he knew that would not last long. Without any humans in sight, and before the world was properly turned into one belonging to the Empyrean, they would become more and more ravenous, as the lease they had on this reality slipped. But he would be done by then anyway.
He at last reached the building he was looking for, a rather mundane construction that concealed a secret he could only fathom about. Stretched miles underneath it were labyrinthine tunnels he had not yet discovered the purpose of, but they always brought him peace, as if a psychic aura of calm resonated throughout it. He knew that it was a special place, for reasons he could not discern.
He had used it frequently to meditate on his plans. Now, he would do the same with his own death. He entered it, seeing it's immense damage, as if something huge had crashed through it. A mere destructive act from the horrid immaterial beasts now stalking the land, probably.
He entered where he knew the catacombs began, and started his long descent into the serpentine pathways. Who knew, perhaps this would be his chance to discover at last what they were truly about?
Yet as he turned a corner, his vision aided only by experience and repetition, he saw something which sparked primal terror within him the likes of which he'd never felt before: four glowing red orbs stared at him from the darkness.
The lower pair were not as bright, and seemingly had no soul to them beyond a gemstone-like reflection of light, if there had been any light to reflect. The upper pair however were very much alive, and burning with what seemed like hateful fury. They looked artificial, like optic lenses, yet there was soul behind them. And fueling that soul was sheer hatred.
Then, without warning, the lights. Only now did he hear the heavy thuds of mighty footsteps. He stumbled back, in his panic attempting to flee, yet the thing caught up to him without so much as a light stroll. He felt graspser the size of his head lift him effortlessly by his robes, and suddenly he was staring right into the crimson orbs of death, pure horror looking straight through.
And then, something shocked him out of his maddened, flailing panic.
"Why?"
Author's notes: Betcha ya didn't expect a chapter so soon eh? What spurred this sudden increase in activity you ask?
Well simple really: I've been reading Warhammer books and my passion has been reignited somewhat, enough to feel like I can write pretty confidently a lot more. Does this mean new chapters will come much sooner? I dunno, prolly not cause I am a lazy fuck.
Anyway, once more, not much to say about this one. As you might've guessed by now, either the next chapter or the one after that will finally be the conclusion to the Sors arc, if you want to call it that, and personally I couldn't be more happy about it, because I really want to move on to bigger and better things. This shit's already the length of a novel and I'm barely done.
As always, faves, follows and especially reviews are appreciated and very much encouraged. I hope you had fun with this chapter. This is Dome of Bones signing out.