Check the bottom of the chapter for notes.
Walking around felt...strange. There was an untold new weight to his movements, but it did not seem to impair him at all. In fact he felt his senses and reflexes all sharpened to a razor edge. He could hear everything, the pitch blackness barely affected him even without his suit, he could taste the component chemicals in the air, tell where each smell lead to precisely.
And then there were the other senses as well, ones not of this world. He had awoken with a start, in a strange, unfamiliar body and frame. But beyond that, he had awakened to a strange awareness. One he did not have before. Whereas his unfortunate journey into the Immaterium had granted him access to a Warp sense that could pick out the touch of Chaos wherever it may be in his vicinity, now it was like he had a veritable map of anything that left a mark on the Empyrean.
Like an ancient bat of Old Terra using echolocation, it was as if his mind sent out waves of thought outward into the void, and they rebounded somewhere, bringing with them the knowledge of all the presences there. And there were many presences. Mostly the daemonic.
But among them shined one pure one. A distinctly human one. Kronos knew he had to follow it specifically. But first...
He felt another presence close, in the veritable labyrinth above. Weak, frail, and terrified, it too was nonetheless human. And while the touch of Chaos was not on it, something was definitely wrong about it. He would investigate before leaving. It was the way out anyway.
Slowly, Kronos approached the massive chasm he had descended to get here. Quietly, he wondered if there were any other, swifter methods rather than climbing. As if listening to his thoughts, the armor responded by engaging a set of wing-like thrusters, folding outward from it's power pack.
Well, that was certainly useful. But he had no idea how to operate such a thing. He had only received rudimentary training in the use of Jump Packs. And this, he was certain, was far from rudimentary.
Then he remembered how the armor had responded to him in the first place. So he thought about the thrusters of the great battle barge Emperor's Resplendent, a Blood Angels Great Crusade vessel, firing off in the cold void of space. And much like before, the armor obeyed, jets of flame bursting forth for a moment. Curious.
He expected no less from such an arcane piece of technology, constructed by the Emperor himself at height of humanity's collective capability and progress. If anything, flight capabilities and control by mere thought should've been among the lesser qualities of the armor. But he would explore those at a different time.
He focused his thoughts once more. If a mere recollection had led to them firing once, it seemed concentration would be required to keep them firing. So he focused on roaring jets of flame once more, and soon enough, they ignited again, keeping a steady flow that gradually increased until he was inches off the ground. He could feel residual heat in his back as well, another set of thrusters that had shifted out.
He willed the armor to propel him upwards, and that he it did.
"Why?"
When he finally found the presence he had been looking for, Kronos begun to be gifted with visions. Small snippets and facts from his conscience. Another effect of the armor he now wore? He cared not to find out now, as he stared daggers at the man. He'd like to think that even through the artificial glow of his red optics, his gaze was still burning through him.
The man stumbled around in the darkness, dread clearly taking root in his mind. Yet, he didn't try and run away. He was not terrified enough to be paralyzed...so there was morbid curiosity there. Like a man inspecting the beast that would eat him when he was thrown to it.
"Why?" he asked again, breaking the pregnant silence between them. "Why do this?"
Kronos had been taught that in the heart of the traitor, only damnation could be found. There was no more use understanding them than there was understanding the alien monstrosities they had bled an ocean to vanquish. Yet, before him lay a man, who by the judgement of his newfound awareness at least, was wholly sane in mind and rationality. Who possessed no Chaotic "gifts", no corruptions from dark gods, no lust for power.
A simple man. So why would he have brought damnation so readily into this world?
"I won't ask you again mortal. Tell me: why?"
The man at last realizing that Kronos would not kill him, at least not immediately, seemed to relax, albeit only by the slightest bit. Kronos heard his heartbeat slow, smelled the fear pheromones from him decrease, saw his pupils narrow, albeit only by the tiniest margins as he rose to his feet shakily. Undetectable signs to most.
Except for him. This man was an open book to him, even not factoring in his Warp senses. Yet, for the life of him, he could not understand how this man, seemingly sound of mind unlike so many of his brethren, followed the vile gods that he did.
And at that, he gulped. Kronos could see the split second of his saliva being sucked into his mouth. It disgusted him. Some things were meant to be left unobserved.
"I did...what I had to do."
That response annoyed him. Not enrage him. He was beyond being enraged by such a petty pawn. But annoyed him immensely nonetheless.
"You are not answering the question wretch. My patience grows thin."
The man paused, before releasing a long sigh. Kronos noted the water vapors being exhaled from his mouth.
"Once upon a time...I was merely Kelvar Zeno. An adviser to the Planetary Governor. A humble priest that nonetheless held some power. I followed the word of the God-Emperor, the word of my superiors, the word of my creed. I was a humble servant. I did what needed to be done."
Kronos quirked his brow at that. God-Emperor? Had this world been one of the vassals of Lorgar before his corruption? A planet brainwashed into believing his lord was a deity?
"All I wanted was to meet one of the higher members of the Ministorum: something to validate my existence fully," Zeno interrupted him from his thoughts, continuing his story. "I was happy with the Emperor's peace being my only reward. But someone coming from His holy agency itself to recognize me? I could only dream of it. Yet one day, it happened."
Kronos' mind was filled with this troubling information. Doubts, questions, and the like clouded it for just a split second, before he focused again. He would pay them no heed now. And likely never again, if he were to be lucky.
"A Confessor: a holy man meant to enlighten whole planets to the Imperial Creed. A priest like me could only dream of ever having such sway. Yet dream, I did not, after encountering him. Colavious, he was called," at that name, Kronos could hear the subtle shift of his vocal cords. Disgust, hatred, bitterness, regret, all laced in that single word. "And only then did I begin to understand...just who I was helping..."
"He slaughtered men," he spat. "He butchered women. Burned children. And for what? Lack of faith, I was told. These ideas of righteousness, given form by the mind of a madman, and completely justified by him as word of god. It sickened me."
He swallowed hard.
"For a while, I was lost. I did not know what to believe. How could a holy man err in such a fashion? How could he be so utterly wrong, so conceited as to make me sick to my stomach? I was lost, until they began speaking" he said knowingly. "It was fleeting at first, whispers in my mind I thought nothing off. Then it grew louder, and louder, until I could do nothing but listen to it. Yet, I was not one to fall for their wiles so easily."
"They lied, and tempted, and lied and tempted. But I did not possess the will of a coward, nor the mind of a beggar. So I searched through the sugary promises to find nuggets of truth. And therein I found my new, true cause," the man said. "The Warmaster."
"Lupercal?" Kronos said with worry, though the deep bass of his helmet drowned it out. How could he be alive? He had felt his presence utterly obliterated.
The man before him looked just as confused as he was for a few moments before resuming.
"Horus? Of course not, he has been dead for 10 millennia," that at the very least lessened some of Kronos' worries, and infinitely amplified the rest. "No, his offspring is the one I follow. Abbadon the Despoiler as the Imperium calls him. But he is far from a pawn of Chaos as most know him."
"The man possesses cunning beyond most, and he has never taken on the mantle of daemonhood despite his rightful claim to it. Why? Because he does not wish to rule for Chaos. He wishes to use it for his own gain, and the discard it once he is done," the man halted for a moment. "Is he a tyrant? Yes. Insane? Most definitely. But what he will bring is infinitely more tolerable than the miserable filth I saw before me that day with that Confessor, and what I have observed since."
"I have traveled far and wide, and seen the worst of the Imperium. The hypocrisy, the hatred, the ignorance, the rage, the idiocy...it is all overwhelming. And-"
"So you decided to serve forces far fouler than the Imperium could ever be?" once more, Kronos' tone betrayed no hint of the cold hatred behind them. "You decided to help forces you could never hope to tame or move past? Look around you: do you see this Abaddon holding his firm grip over the daemon hordes you have summoned. Do you see his warriors not succumbed to the horrors of the masters they serve? Your ideal is a joke, a false dream you yourself don't believe in. Something you repeat to yourself over and over just to ensure yourself that you can be right. Don't deny it."
Zeno evidently did not. He remained silent.
"This is why you are here: you wish to atone for your sins. You think this place holy," the Custodian approached like a tangible shadow, now towering over the man, revealing to him just how great the height difference was. And as he stumbled back, falling again, it only became greater. "But there is no atonement here for you. Not now, nor ever. Treachery is inexcusable, but yours is the deepest kind of it. You desire to do good while actively seeking that which you know will cause bad. You are scum."
Kronos raked his spear across the ground for effect if nothing else, but did nothing else besides that.
"You disgust me. Your flesh does not deserve to be pierced by my blade. And that is why it will not be," Kronos said, taking his leave, strolling past the man as his heavy bootfalls echoed through the tunnel. "You will die here. Your remnants burned to ash by nuclear fire. And none will remember you. That is your legacy: a burnt world of charred corpses."
Kronos left the man to his plight, ignorant or most likely uncaring of how he remained on the ground, and the sobs that followed soon after.
Cackling powers fields clashed, arcane energies warped the very fabric of reality around them as the two psychic titans went back and forth. Their combined power enough to completely flatten a planet like no Exterminatus could, they nonetheless found themselves in a deadlock, as each took turns to cast their own horrible blights upon the other.
In the case of the Great Unclean One, it was mostly vile blasts of corrupting energy, lit in all the different shades of green and brown imaginable, dancing and twirling around like directed supernovas, their pestilence turning any unfortunate target they happened to run into to ashes. Rot and decay permeated around the beast, the very air near it becoming stagnant and poisonous.
In the case of the Son of Thunder, his answer to this corpus of disease was searing, hot flame. But not flame like any other: the true flame, flame that burned so hot it ignited the air into a soup of ions. His weapon in his battle, as it had always been since he'd been accepted into the hallowed ranks of the Stormseers nearly 3 centuries ago now.
Yet, even as the balance of power shifted and changed between them, Nergui knew he was losing. The beast's power was practically limitless, drawn from a pool Nergui couldn't hope to grasp. Whereas his, no matter how potent, was growing weaker by the moment.
A blast of maddening greens and bile smashed against his shield of electricity, and he could feel it slipping just that bit more. He would lose. It was inevitable. It was always going to be inevitable.
But then...he had never foreseen his demise. Plenty of psykers could not, but for some reason, Nergui was certain this time, it was not a lapse of judgement: it was intentional. The vision he had received, had been received for a very good reason. He was not meant to perish here, not with that golden guardian standing before him.
But he was not appearing anywhere. That was the hard part of the visions: deciphering what to wait for. How much of them was literal and how much was up to his interpretation. One part of it, the Four Powers had been fulfilled. The rest had yet to play out. He had to hold, if not for his brothers he could sense fighting tooth and nail down below, then at the very least to see the end of this thread of fate.
A massive swing nearly knocked him out of the sky, and his attention was brought back to the monster before. It brandished it's monstrous spiked club once more, moving deceptively fast for a creature of it's lumbering size. It swung again, but once more it missed, and this time Nergui was ready.
A chain of lightning erupted from his protective sphere, wrapping around the creature's outstretched wrist, sizzling away tainted flesh and bone. It snarled, more so in annoyance than pain, before it's arm was yanked by the makeshift whip, as another blast of Warp-charged electricity cackled toward it. Nergui felt his brain wracked with pain, his nerves stretched to their limits by the attack, his soul bending under the sheer might he was calling upon. But he would endure.
The blast pierced the arm, severing it entirely, leaving a charred stump behind. The Great Unclean One emitted a dull roar that sent acidic spittle flying from it's mouth, before one of the many cancerous growths in it's back began to enlarge, emerging like a pillar. Once it became big enough, the creature used it's remaining arm to break it off, forming a new club for itself.
And as Nergui saw, it's other had already begun regenerating, the mark of his powers disappearing quickly. If he were to banish the beast entirely, he would have to do so quickly, before he exhausted himself fully, and also before the monstrosity had any capacity to regenerate.
His eyes flared, golden light turned to shining white, all his strength poured into one psychic blast. The primordial annihilation, the most horrifying art of any psyker: the Holocaust. A move so powerful it could erase a soul, daemon or otherwise, entirely.
The invisible wave of force slammed against the monstrous rotting creature, and immediately he could feel his mind touch against the putrid, joyful husk that inhabited it. A battle of will commenced, both forces pushing against each-other relentlessly.
Yet, at the end, Nergui was simply too tired and the daemon too powerful. His ultimate move failed, and he received a backlash of psychic feedback. He nearly fell out of the sky then, but what ultimately brought him down was a club swing that could've barreled through a Titan's armor. He rocketed towards the ground, creating a large crater where he landed, the building that braced his fall entirely pulverized.
There he stayed, body and mind broken. He could feel cracks all over his skeleton, punctured organs and torn tendons anywhere his nerves stretched. He could feel his psyche reeling, exhausted from his battle and wounded from the aftershock of his failed final assault. He was not dead, not even close. But as he heard the stomps of a goliath approaching him, he knew his fighting chance had been spent.
Nergui raised himself, commanding his muscles to heal, his bones to mend, enough so he could stand on two feet again. His injuries were held together by his psychic will alone, and as soon as he lost focus they would fall apart, potentially even worse than they were before. But he would not face death lying down like a coward. He would spit in it's face, like any true son of the Khan.
The Great Unclean One stepped into his view once more, the dust cloud spread too thinly for it to be veiled any longer, and Nergui could almost feel his eyes assaulted by the sight. It was one thing to see a herald of Nurgle from afar, it was another altogether to observe one so close. Guts and blood spewed unceasingly from it's torn abdomen, and pustules and scabs across it's body constantly spewed bile, pus and vile green ichor.
It released a deep, phlegm-ridden laugh, acidic spittle flying everywhere as it eyed it's prey. Nergui raised his staff, ready for one last glorious assault against the vile creature as it raised it's own weapon.
He never had the chance.
Like a thunderbolt striking from the sky, something big punctured the beast straight in it's stomach. At second glance, Nergui could make out the definitive shape of an intricate spearhead breaking through from the other side. The beast's laughter ceased as it lurched, puking out vile liquids Nergui could not even begin to imagine, along with hordes of Nurglings.
The spear did not stop at that position however. It started upwards, and the creature despite itself almost looked in pain. But stop the spear it could not, as it only got faster making it's way up the body, and straight through the head, splitting the great beast in two from the waist up.
The carcass fell to the ground, and Nergui didn't think for an instant as he set it alight with Warp flame. A small amount compared to what he could usually summon, but it would be enough to finish the job and make sure the body did not regenerate: few things were tougher than a Nurglite daemon.
After that was done however, he could finally look upon his savior. And what a sigh that greeted him.
He never would've imagined to see the Emperor's own praetorians in the flesh. Their duties were far too removed from Terra itself, and even Space Marines seldom had the opportunity to witness the Brotherhood of Demigods in their lifetime. But what stood before him now was exactly that, a Custodian: a guardian of the Emperor without peer. And what a Custodian he was witnessing.
He towered over every Astartes Nergui had ever seen, sans those venerable brothers interred in Dreadnought. The Stormseer, a considerably imposing figure himself, looked like a dwarf by comparison. Yet that was not what stuck out to him the most.
In this golden legionary he saw his vision come to fruition. He could feel his presence was the same as the one he'd observed. So enraptured was he in this thought that he barely noticed him holding out a hand.
He grasped it firmly with his own, ignoring the pain that shot through his ruined bones. In that brief contact, he felt their minds brush against each-other, however briefly. Vital information was shared, and then the gesture ended.
No words needed to be exchanged after that. Time would be plenty for such a thing on board the ships. A quick nod was all that was needed, and they were off once more.
Nergui did not posses the power to take to the skies again, and he estimated that he wouldn't for some time. But that was irrelevant, as they made haste to the site of the greatest fighting. He hoped Batu and Gan would've been enough to hold back the tide.
And sure enough, they were doing just that. Nergui couldn't help but smile. Even with so much against them, his brothers fought like cornered lions. But they were being overwhelmed nonetheless, surrounded on all sides by Nurglite filth, their armors cracked and broken, drenched in the various bodily fluids the daemons let off simply by being near, let alone being killed by Combat Knives.
Nergui frowned at that. There would have to be much inspection afterwards to prove they were not tainted. But that didn't matter now, as both he and the Custodian joined the battle.
Even severely injured and tired the Son of Thunder was an unstoppable force against the daemons, his mere gestures flaying them alive, as his staff caught fire and burned through a dozen or more of the abominations. Yet, the real changer of tides was the warrior beside him. The instantaneous dispatching of one of the most powerful and dangerous beings in the galaxy was only the tip of the iceberg it seemed.
The Custodian moved with speed Nergui couldn't even track. A mere twitch of his form and a dozen of the monstrosities before them lay bisected on the ground, the warrior meters away already, tearing into the next wave as if teleporting around the battlefield. His spear struck with precision and force he had never observed in all his long centuries, each blow a lethal one even for their supernaturally tough opponents.
His spear however, was not alone in the carnage. A beam of energy erupted out of it every few seconds, a secondary weapon clearly affixed next to the blade. turning daemons into smoke, atomizing their immaterial flesh. His gauntlets also got in on the action, tearing through flesh and bone like wet paper, cackling with energy much like the spear tip itself did.
This way they made their way through to their compatriots, hundreds slaughtered mercilessly in a scant few minutes. Again, words needed not be exchanged, though from glancing surface thoughts he could tell both Batu and Gan were confused. Yet they had no time to chatter, as Batu took lead, urging them towards a direction only he seemed to know.
The Custodian surprised him once more as he firmly grasped all three Astartes, along with small child that had somehow remained unscathed throughout the entire ordeal easily, before two wing-like structures with jets on the ends emerged from his back. With a dull roar, they erupted into plumes of fire and smoke, soon carrying the massive body and all others grabbed by it to the skies.
Several tonnes took flight without so much as a hitch, and the Custodian did not need to urge Batu before the latter provided directions with hand motions. The flight was short, the engines of the massive armor working tirelessly and with unprecedented speed for a flyer, let alone a simple airworthy suit. He slowed down as he neared the ground, before shifting from horizontal position to vertical, letting all three Astartes down gently before plopping softly on the ground himself, Mira in his arms.
Only after all that, did they have time to converse. And of all, it was Gan to initiate the conversation.
"Custodian? Kronos?"
His tone was disbelieving, even shocked perhaps. The mighty golden warrior simply nodded in return.
"What...what happened?"
"Far too much to explain right now, Gan. But let us just say that I found something far more valuable than I ever could've imagined beneath the sands of this seemingly inconsequential world. I will explain everything when we are safe, but in the meanwhile," he turned to the other bewildered White Scar. "Batu, when will our extraction arrive?"
His brother stood silent for some time, seemingly as confused by the Custodian as Gan was, but he simply shook his head before speaking, clearly filing his doubts for later.
"I was not told with certainty. All I know is that it is, hopefully, coming. I can relay no more than that," he sighed, and only in that moment did Nergui understand how exhausted he was. How exhausted they all were. "Now we await. It is the only thing we can do."
And so they did. Nergui performed a rudimentary scan of his brothers in the meantime, judging them for signs of corruption. They were apprehensive, though that was only understandable given what they had been through. Nergui himself was not feeling close to optimum, and he knew even with his psychic skills working full time to heal him it would be some time before he did. He could only be glad he had not detected anything, but a more thorough examination would have to be undertaken as soon as possible.
The Custodian simply stood, rigid as a statue, his gaze and thoughts unknowable through his helmet. Yet, he stood specifically over the comatose child, never once shifting from his position. Nergui could only guess he had some reservations, but he did not question anything more of the golden giant than to simply inspect her for the sake of witnessing any potential touch of Chaos.
It took a bit longer than it should've of, but the Custodian eventually nodded, and Nergui set to work on possibly the only survivor of this accursed world. She was clean as well from what he could tell, though there was always the possibility...
He shook his head. Another place, another time. He rose to his feet, giving an alright sign to the Custodian, whose relief could be felt even without any sort of emotion radiating from his posture. Thus they stood for some more time, Nergui using his powers to heal and purify the wounds of his brothers as much as he could.
Just as they began to get worried, something was heard in the far off distance. A short, quiet boom. Then another, a bit closer. And then they finally saw it.
The horizon erupted into a ball of fire, it's apex easily reaching into the lower stratosphere if Nergui had to estimate. Even their eyes took a moment to adjust to the immense flare of light.
"Cyclonic torpedoes," Batu muttered.
"Our death is here," Gan added, enraptured despite himself by the fireball.
The Custodian said nothing, though Nergui noticed the way he clenched his fists. He was not satisfied.
In reality, neither was Nergui. Just as he was considering erecting a barrier with whatever strength he had over them however, another roaring sound filled their ears. This one however, carried hope with it.
Soon enough the source of the sound made itself known, as a Thunderhawk careened toward them at top speed, coming to a dead halt only several tens of meters in front of them. No words were needed as they rushed towards the vessel.
They embarked one by one. The size of the holding bay was a bit problematic for the Custodian, but it was capable of holding whole tanks. He could manage.
Kronos stood transfixed by the sight before him. Aboard the Crescent Moon, the strike cruiser orbiting the planet, he could see in full detail how the world burned and died from the plexiglass windscreen of his hastily assembled personal chambers.
The death of a planet was always a solemn affair, especially one who had inhabitants upon it. And so he witnessed deserts glassed and scorched from the fleet, powerless to do anything about the fate of the world.
Batu and Gan were confined to the Apothecarium, undergoing both physical and psychic screenings. The child was being tended to by the human servants of the White Scars. He had already conversed with Nergui on the matters which needed to be discussed. He had liked this Librarian, or as the White Scars called them, Stormseers. He did not in general have a fondness for psykers, though he could appreciate the strength and mental fortitude he had witnessed firsthand, and he was in no position to judge given that he technically qualified as one himself now.
He had not had to explain his presence upon Sors yet. The White Scars were too busy dealing with the fallout of the disastrous campaign, and mourning their dead. And there were plenty of dead to mourn. Nergui however had let him know in no uncertain terms that he would be requiring information sooner or later.
Yet he could not think about that now. Nor could he join the Sons of Chogoris in their ceremonies. He did not belong there for one, but for another, he had far too much to do already. He picked the data slate before him with something akin to dread.
The 41st millennium. The very tail end of it no less. This was where he had been displaced. So much history, so much he had missed. Thousands of years of change he could never predict. And it should all be in here, the records Nergui had so graciously agreed to hand to him. The Custodes were the premier Imperial authority save the Emperor himself, but even so he would have to make time afterwards to thank him for his help.
However, now was not the time. He had several hours until the remnant of the White Scars and the other Imperial authorities converged. In those scant few hours he intended to run through everything he could. He turned on the first data slate wearily, this absurdly long day only getting longer by the second.
He had no idea how truly long it would end up feeling.
Author's notes: WASSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP BITCHES!
It's been a while and the whole fucking world is on fire. But here I am, bringing an extra long chapter to apologize for the long wait. And for all of you that have stuck around, thank you. It's been quite an experience writing this fic, even though I know I'm not close to done yet. However, the first arc of this journey is concluded now. Where to from here?
Who the fuck knows? But I will say we are going to be moving on to some more interesting things now. I never intended for this part of the story to last so long, and the fact that it's already exceeded the length of an average novel by a considerable margin is just...wow.
Another thing some of you may notice, the story has chapter names now. Yes, very generic ones, but eh, I'm not original. That's going to be my mundus operatii from now on.
As always, follows, favorites and especially reviews are very appreciated. I'd like to think to know what you guys think of the story so far as a whole, before I kick into the next gear. Until then, this is your friendly Internet Dome of Bones fucking off.