Revelation

Humanity needs you.

It's ironic that this is what he remembers. Or perhaps the greater irony is that of all he has lived and forgotten – this is what he remembers. A whispering echo from a lifetime ago told to him by a petulant wretch that he tolerated for far too long. After his "resurrection" by Ollivander, now Malcador, he had laughed at his designs for him. The two had parted ways with Ollivander prophesying in his whispery voice that the two had mutual destinies that will always be interlocked.

Willingly tearing his soul apart, dying, residing in the abyss of nothingness, and then coming back to life – all had given him a new perspective on life. For once in his very long life, Tom Marvolo Riddle was now content to move slow. Personally, seeing the world up close and the awesome horrors of Muggle weaponry and seeing how quickly the wizarding world had capitulated had left him morose. He lived multiple lifetimes amongst the muggles to understand their evolution. It had been a revelation unlike anything he had ever seen. The life of Muggles was a constant act of defiance against an uncaring void of the universe. Yet the muggles improvised daily and laughed in the face of the cosmic void. If they couldn't lift, they invented cranes. An opponent to powerful to run – it was forced to run until exhaustion and from the shadows they would crawl out to kill the beasts. One thing above all excited him the most, total war. The Muggles didn't have the squeamishness of wizard when it came to total war. They had no qualms about obliterating entire bloodlines, razing cities to dirt, and extinguishing entire lines of nobility and tradition when it came to progress. Those who didn't move on with the times, were ruthlessly crushed. A muggle emperor of yore came to mind when Riddle pondered this, "All glory is fleeting but obscurity remains true forever."

Riddle travelled to the premier power of the muggle world and lived life. He enlisted in the USAF and learned the mechanics of their sky beasts known as fighter jets. Objects that moved faster than any dragon and delivered twice as much damage. He enlisted in their halls of learning and learned much more of their world. Yet the world wasn't without its flaws. Muggles were petty unless great acts of valor were demanded of them, and a blood price was paid. During the years of their greatest hostility, the so called "Cold War", Muggles sent roaring jets of fire and reached moon. All technical projections promised a permanent settlement on the moon by now and plans for the colonization of Ares's planet. The world was promised nuclear energy and an end to the pollution of fossil fuels. Advanced systems were to have limited the need for works so muggles could focus more on leisure and complex abstract tasks. Instead, when the United States's greatest rival, the Soviet Union, had perished- the world had grown fat and lazy. Trillions of dollars were wasted on pointless wars in the desert that yielded to nothing. Bloated monopolies took over, bringing in an endless stream of SaaS level subscription-based ownership. Global monopolies bribed legislatures to cripple any and all worthwhile endeavors into clean energy.

It was no wonder when the world ripped open, and the demons ventured forth – the world was set on fire. And now instead of consolidating gains, petty tyrants from the wizarding and muggle worlds had staked their own domain on Earth. Most annoyingly, a powerful entity of darkness had established a shop near Riddle's residence in New York, USA. In an earlier life when he was Voldemort, he would've grabbed his wand in a blaze of killing and cruciatus curses and leveled the place.

He wasn't sure he wanted to rely on old methods that would yield the same outcomes as they had in the past. So, he waited. Hundreds died in the massacre, but such prices could be paid until his eyes fell upon a passing adventurer. A man wielding a chainsaw that absolutely reeked of the aether. There was something familiar about the adventurer, but he simply couldn't place a finger on it. So, Riddle stalked him from the shadows and aided him from angles that the muggle (possibly squib?) couldn't perceive. The adventurer's zeal in cleansing the darkness was without equal. With a mighty yell he bought down the chainsaw on the neck of a woman who Riddle vaguely recognized as Narcissa Malfoy. One of his Death Eaters from the old days. As he lay dying on the stone, a witch suddenly apparated in front of him, levelled her wand at him and then teleported away with the body. Riddle owlishly stared at the weird display but simply chose to walk away.

The Stellar Exodus

"This new approach might yield unparalleled dividends" Riddle realized as he stared at the latest news on his television. A decade ago, he had started a tech research company that incorporated hidden mages in its departments. The short-term goal was to output crazy, revolutionary technology that could bring about a quantum leap in both magical and mundane society. Given the state of the planet and the species, it was imperative that they become a multi-planet species with advanced weapons so they could tackle threats like Morgoth should he materialize once again on Earth.

The reporter went on and on about the new era of space travel with the success construction of the first O'Neil cylinders. All of them were designed by components from his organization. The vessels would take a long while to reach their intended destination. An entire civilization would have to be founded in vessels and exist on their intended planets. To ensure that the colonists could be self-sufficient, the vessels were incorporated with cutting edge standard template constructs. These could help in the development of almost any technology with whatever limited resources they encountered. It was the dawn of a new age of humanity.

Riddle stared at the contraption below him with narrowed eyes. The last century had been mind-numbingly frustrating. Despite mankind's progress in occupying the solar system, everything moved at a snail's pace. The colonies were distant and interstellar trade was non-existent. Every now and then they heard rumors of distant colonies beyond Pluto going dark. Mounting investigations took long. Reaching destinations took even longer. So much so that the environment removed any trace of any events. He was at his wits ends at humanity's malaise and not caring for whatever happened beyond the reach of their sweets and cakes. They needed to go beyond the limitations of the speed of light. Thus, the gift package he had received today. The note on the parcel simply said,

"Regard, The Sigillites."

Riddle had initially suspected that the package would be a trap, but he had thoroughly checked for traps and found nothing suspicious. He had then forwarded the item to his company and the results had been startling. The engineers had reported that the artifact had been made from materials from beyond humanity's plane of existence. Preliminary scans had revealed that the device had been a sort of engine. It had runes drawn on it that didn't match with any magical or mundane language from humanity's past. Riddle rolled up his sleeves and got prepped to work through an all nighter.

A New Discovery

Riddle gritted his teeth as he the aftermath of the investigation unfolded before him. They stood on a terraformed planet with bodies of smoking lumbering beasts that lay strewn about the fields. The planets were being raided by a strange breed of humanoid looking beasts with green skins. The anger boiled over when he realized he didn't get the chance to avenge the colony himself. A group of strange creatures materialized behind. They were tall, taller than anyone else he had seen before. There was a strange queer aura about them. Riddle had seen magical creatures before, but these beings were a breed apart. The very air around them crackled with magic. The lead man took off his helm and stared at Riddle. A tingling sensation entered his head. The being was probing my brain!

Riddle didn't raise his occlumency shields but instead let the probe flew in till he sneaked around it and attacked the creature instead. The mutual attacks forced both to review each other's memory. Memories of a galactic empire pierced Riddle's mind whose scale dwarfed anything Riddle had previously encountered before. From one end of the galaxy to another, an empire of peace, prosperity, and plenty - it made the humans of his time look like primitive mucks. The gentle, tithering laughter of the figure made its way across his psyche and one name was forever burned into it,

Eldrad Ulthuan.

You have a long way to go, young one. The figure chimed as it looked at humanity's accomplishments so far. Not too far away from your biological ancestors, are you? He spoke.

Riddle didn't reply.

Mooonkey wasn't it? The figure pondered mispronouncing the name. Perhaps I will call your kind the same. Mon-Keigh.

Riddle grit his teeth in response to the mockery. Such arrogance. Such power. Eldrad savored the torrent of angry emotions flowing through him like fine wine. With another chuckle the figure and his companions vanished from his sight.

A Lifetime Later

Fate hated him. No, it despised him. The humans too, they hated him. It didn't matter if they were magical or mundane, they hated him. Once, he was hated as a tyrant. Decried by his mentors, parents, and friends. They rallied against him and pushed him in the dark. When he decided to fix the error of his ways, stepped into shadows, and gently "guide" humanity – they once again spat at his face. Despite his repeated warnings, humanity refused to heed him and relied on artificial intelligence to do their thinking for them. The lack of interstellar travel despite the Sigillite's intervention was greatly hampering colonization efforts. The so-called Eldar despite humanity's repeated attempts at diplomacy merely brushed them off and refused to share their secrets.

Unsurprisingly, the men of iron had revolted and torn the human experiment asunder. Entire planets and star systems had been subjugated to genocide. A millennia's worth of progress and technology had been undone in a few weeks. The machines feared neither the void of space nor the weaknesses of hunger, mortality, or emotions. Their foe was unrelenting and unrepentant in their desire to wipe out their masters. Worse still, a massive civil was had broken out in the Aeldari Empire. The crown jewel of the galaxy now lay shattered as the death throws of their civilization howled horribly in the recently discovered immaterium. As such, no help would be coming from them to aid humans.

Enough is enough. I will need to personally intervene here. Riddle thought to himself.

Riddle gathered a militia from the survivors and mustered mages, now known amongst the mundane as pyschics, undertook a crusade in the human sectors to reclaim what is theirs. The men of iron although untiring and vast in numbers, were not used to massed assaults of magic falling on their numbers. While Riddle and his forces won the individual battles, they were not able to effectively pursue retreating men of iron. The pursuit time for humans were often too long. This gave the men of iron the ability to recuperate their numbers and innovate. And innovate they did to a lethal degree. When their forces next clashed, the men of iron unleashed horrific weapons of war that shattered Riddle and his armies.

Chatter picked up by the intelligence division labelled the new superweapon as "Mechanivores". They were massive thinking machines capable of lifting entire continents and ripping open massive chasms on planetary surfaces that extended down to the world's core. The mechanivores could even absorb space-time itself as a form of data. Tired of contending with the psychic army, the maddened machines had decided to consume reality itself in a bid to undo their military defeats. Still this wasn't the worst of their sins, in their bid to finally achieve military dominance, the AI had dug too deep on of the distant planets of humanity's colonization efforts. In turn they had awakened something so horrific that entire legions of AI troops were now avoiding the system and an old name from past had reached out to him.

Eldrad Ulthuan wanted to parlay.

The Ascension

Amidst the ruins of what was once a thriving world, where the scars of war etch deep into the landscape, two beings from disparate worlds converge on neutral grounds. Against the backdrop of a sky free from the artificial glare of industrial lights, they stand as witnesses to the beauty that remains untouched by the ravages of war. countless stars seem to offer a glimmer of hope amidst the devastation that surrounds them. In the silence of the abandoned planet, where the echoes of violence still linger in the air, they find a moment of shared understanding—a fleeting respite from the chaos that defines their existence.

"The beasts have been unleashed. They in turn have unleashed something worse. Humanity's hubris has doomed it to near extinction." Eldrad stated as he contemplated the environment.

"Spare me the monologue, elf. Your kin not only signed their own armageddon but their corruption of the Aether have doomed the younger races as well." Riddle shot back, in no mood for the enigmatic races double speak. Eldrad stared back at him in annoyance but continued.

"Our war is going according to the grand design. The insurgency will face Asuryan's justice soon enough once we wipe out the cults." He spoke. "Unfortunately, for you, no such reprieve is coming soon enough."

"These so-called Men of Iron around your E-4 system have dug into an ancient enemy from times when the universe was young and the grand creators still walked amongst the mortal heavens." Eldar said not giving Riddle a chance to respond. "In the tapestry of the universe, there exists beings of unfathomable power and boundless hunger. They are the C'tan, ancient entities whose essence transcends the very fabric of reality itself."

"Are they the so-called godlings from the warp?" Riddle questioned and Eldrad laughed at this.

"Gods, you say. Nay, young one, the C'tan are not deities to be worshipped, but forces to be feared. They are beings of pure energy, remnants of a time long forgotten, when the stars themselves were but infants in the cradle of creation." Eldrad said. "The creature awakened at E-4 is one of them. A being called the Mag'ladroth. In your tongue I suppose he could be called The Void Dragon."

"I don't think I need to point out what would happen should such a creature return to full strength?" Eldrad said.

Riddle forced himself to not shiver as a modicum of dread ran through him at the prospect of such an entity now slowly marching onto the Sol System. Things were more dire than he originally anticipated.

"I trust you brought us out here to discuss a potential plan of action." Riddle said.

"Astute observation, human." Eldrad said. "As grim as the circumstances are, there is still hope. The Eldar of old had once stopped similar creatures in past when ensuring our rights over the stars."

Riddle internally scoffed at the creature's deluded notions but held his tongue. Humanity still hadn't developed spiritually or technologically enough to face a threat like the Void Dragon. Like it or not, he had to take whatever Eldrad was offering.

"Is there a plan?" Riddle said.

"Yes. Despite the unforeseen circumstances, the gods have not abandoned us. In ages past, the god of forge created a weapon to stop the might of the rampaging dragon." Eldrad said. "My scrying efforts in the aether have revealed its location. The rest I leave to you."

"And pray tell what you will require in return for this information?" Riddle asked but received no response. Eldrad merely laughed and shimmered away from sight.

"Do note human, the creatures are particular weak to talents of the aether. Do what you will of this knowledge." Eldrad voice trailed off.

This didn't sit right with him. Riddle had walked the galaxy back and forth and dealt with all manner of the bizarre paraphilia that inhabited it, amongst it all there was one constant – the Eldar did nothing for free. Much less for charity. His personal device bipped and Riddle saw various coordinates on a message.

He will need to dig deeper into this so-called weapon.

Equalizer

In the compact confines of the stealth ship, Erda stared out at the vast expanse of starlight visible through her window. Having narrowly escaped the assault of the Men of Iron on her bunker, she found herself aboard this vessel, rescued in the nick of time. Betrayal lingered in her mind, yet the identity of her rescuers remained a mystery. Footsteps echoed against the narrow metal walls, drawing Erda's attention. With a furrowed brow, she glanced up to see her rescuer approaching.

It was Malcador of the Sigillites. As to Erda, in another life he was known by another name.

Malcador settled himself across from Erda, offering a modest drink of purified, stale water. "Apologies for the humble refreshments," he began, his tone carrying a hint of regret. "Luxuries are scarce in a galaxy engulfed in war," he explained as he extended the glass towards her.

Erda accepted the drink with a nod, her expression unreadable. With a calm demeanor, Malcador inquired about her well-being, his eyes betraying a hint of concern as he awaited her response. "It's been quite some time since our last encounter," he remarked softly, his voice tinged with the weight of the years that had passed.

Erda's response was curt. "Two centuries have passed," she stated coldly, her gaze unwavering. "And for good reason, we have not crossed paths," she added, her tone carrying a note of finality.

Malcador acknowledged her words with a solemn nod, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that belied his calm exterior.

"One would have hoped in the centuries passing, you would have learned your lesson by now." Erda said. "Your soldiers bear the marks of your meddling."

Malcador listened in silence, his expression betraying no hint of remorse as he absorbed her accusations. "I have merely done what is necessary," he replied evenly, his voice unwavering in the face of her condemnation. "In a galaxy torn apart by war, sacrifices must be made," he added, his tone tinged with resignation.

Erda, unyielding, condemned his actions as a defiance of nature, her voice laced with anger as she confronted him. "You defy the very essence of nature itself," she spat, her words dripping with contempt. "Playing God has never worked well for you Sigillites before but you never learn now do you? Always with your fingers in everyone's pies. Always meddling to realize your goals."

Malcador, undeterred, questioned the artificial extension of lifespans, his voice calm as he sought to rationalize his actions. "Is it not our duty to ensure the survival of humanity?" he countered; his tone measured as he met her gaze with unwavering resolve.

"Is it not your duty to ensure they have liberty?" Erda countered.

"They can have their liberty when they are alive and safe, and not food for all manner of xenos that pollute this galaxy." Malcador said. "Once I knew a little girl who hopped around my shop all those years ago. The little girl who would've understood the necessity of the greater good."

"Don't." Erda warned but Malcador continued regardless,

"The world needs you again, Hermio-" Malcador said but Erda launched her glass at him, but Malcador was unfazed as the glass simply bounced off his psychic shields. A brief silence bore around them before Erda talked in a teary voice.

"Once I knew a man, who would entertain children in his shop and fill their heads will all sort of hope and wonder. One who knew the meaning of compassion and the boundless power of love." Erda said. "Woe onto us that we lost Ollivander and gained Malcador in his place."

Malcador stared at her with a frown before another silence enveloped. A shade of purple hue filled the cabin as the spaceship passed by a purple gas giant. Erda briefly wondered if she saw tears in the Ollivander's eyes before Malcador took over and Erda felt his nerves toughen.

"You as well as I know that firmament surrounding old terra has broken. As we move farther away from the Sol System, our mages are prone to falling prey to the hidden enemy. The war against these metal abominations is merely a distraction. Our true enemy still lies in wait. Its coils waiting to envelop our nascent species just like it did to the Eldar of yore." Malcador said. "However, if we still are to survive, we must rally to first beat these abominable intelligence systems."

"Our time is up, Sigillite. Whatever weapon the ironmen have woken, its too impregnable. Whatever success your rag tag militia has seen – it is of no consequence." Erda replied. "Even the expeditionary fleet by the Eldar hasn't survived the encounter."

"Spare me the theatrics Erda, I am too old." Malcador said. "We know of the Eldar weapon you have been studying. We know of its potential to stop this creature. Help us to capture it. Help us to help humanity live."

Erda pursed her lips, "You have been spying on me."

Malcador merely shrugged in response.

"Like all things belonging to the Eldar, the weapon requires a great psychic to operate. One that our species has never seen, and I doubt the Eldar would provide one given their own troubles." Erda trailed off as the vestiges of discomfort began to show on Malcador's face.

"You know someone." Erda deduced.

"There is one. An old associate with a penchant for great but terrible things." Malcador softly said as if unsure of himself.

Wait. I have heard this before. Erda said before her face went through all 7 stages of grief at once. Malcador reflexively held up an arcane symbol by his hand and stunned Erda in her place as she lunged at him. Eyes ablaze with volcanic fury. She glared at him and spat out,

"You entrust our fate to that…" She seethed. "To that monster!"

"Erda clam yourself…." Malcador said.

"VOLDEMORT DESERVES DEATH AND ONLY DEATH!" Erda shrieked and bought her own considerable power to bear against the Sigillite. Malcador's let out a frustrated sigh and unleashed his own powers upon Erda. A powerful illusion engulfed Erda as she witnessed the sheer horror that was currently engulfing the galaxy.

Entire planets of humans devoured by Orks, Slaughts, and renegade AIs in an orgy of blood, fire, and flesh. Creatures lining up entire families and neighborhoods in flesh pits to be used for butchery shops later. Marvels of art, architecture, and science are now lying in charred ruins as Orks stomped about in a looting frenzy.

Erda choked under the horror of the vision before Malcador relented, and Erda slumped in her seat.

"This is what is currently going on outside your precious cocoon of liberty." Malcador venomously spat. "The ship will stop near Voldemort's militia. If you truly wish to aid us, continue the journey. Else, slip through the cracks at the next fueling station like the coward you always were. Just like when you stole the Sorcerer's stone for your own greed to prolong your own life while mocking the rest for defying nature."

The Destination

"The verdict is clear, my lord. The Blackstone fortress will require significant magical might to activate and operate. It is a defensive measure by the Eldar to prevent the void dragon from hacking the electronics." Malcador stated as Riddle grimly stared at the prepared reports. "Even with our considerable psychic abilities, the fortress will simply consume our souls in an instant. The power surge will be insufficient to even aim at the creature much less shoot."

An eerie vision that had been deliberately haunting Riddle once more whispered to him. A planet strangely left alone by all factions of the war. A woman's voice lovingly called to him in a siren song. All his problems will be taken care of. All he had to do was submit.

Riddle unknowingly flinched in revulsion at the last word. He had never surrendered before. He didn't intend to do it now. Still all roads lead to that planet.

"My Lord?" Malcador questioned to gain Riddle's attention, but Riddle ignored him. Instead, he glared at the holo-feed beside him containing planetary data.

Sector: Ultima Segmentum.

Notable Tithes: Unknown.

Population: 1 million (before the wars. Status unknown)

Notable Planet: Molech

Another shudder of revulsion flowed through him at the name. Riddle met Malacdor's eyes and in an instant understanding flowed between them. Malcador nodded in grim acceptance of his liege's choice. They had no other option. Malcador moved to order the crew to set a course for Molech. In Riddle they trust.

A man entered the portal. A god emerged from it.

That is what those who were on the ground on Molech said of the day. Of course, the creatures

After hours of pain staking search and close quarter combats in a heavily urban environment, they found the portal. It was ancient. The technical crew who ran the carbon dating samples reported that the ancient structure predated human settlement. The markings matched neither aeldari, human, nor ork speech.

But Riddle stated it was irrelevant in a bid to appear focused to his men. The truth was he was feeling strange nerves. He hadn't felt such things in a lifetime. Rituals of such sort tended to make him nervous. Once he had believed himself all knowing and split his soul in a bid for immortality. It had nearly cost him everything. This time, he didn't even know half of what was happening. What he was doing or where he was going. He took a deep breath and ventured into it.

The Challenges

The "Gods" weren't willing to negotiate. These parasites wanted to challenge him. These pitiful wretches that only survived by the grace of negligent emotions of the younger races, dared to demand fealty him. He will make them choke on their own hubris soon enough.

Riddle found himself thrust into a realm consumed by fire and brimstone, where the air crackled with malevolent energy. The chaotic landscape seemed to shift and writhe with every passing moment, a testament to the ever-changing whims of the gods who ruled this domain.

As he stood amidst the infernal chaos, Riddle could feel the weight of their gaze upon him, their insatiable hunger for power and destruction looming over him like a suffocating shroud. Riddle squared his shoulders, his resolve unwavering despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him. He knew that to falter now would mean certain doom, yet he refused to yield to the bloodlust that permeated the air.

Without warning, Riddle found himself surrounded by a legion of Khorne's most fervent followers, their eyes ablaze with the fervor of battle as they prepared to test the mettle of this defiant intruder. The ground shook with the thunderous sound of their war cries, a cacophony of madness that threatened to consume him whole. The legion descended upon him and forcibly conscripted him into their ranks. The Blood God's wanted straight up martial combat to fight them all. Riddle clad himself in a fair form and tricked the legionnaires against each other. He stroked the ego of one potential warrior to think of himself as a prospective blood thirster and rise above the ranks. Soon his entire legion descended into carnage till none were left competent enough to lead except Riddle himself. The Blood God roared in furious annoyance as Riddle bested his challenges and refused to cede ground. He was suddenly expelled from the blood god's hellish realm and launched into another.

Riddle found himself in an eldritch realm where magicks flew in a torrent of extreme wind and rains. Abominations with tentacled arms and multitude of eyes greeted him and challenged him to a game of wits. He had seen their likeness drawn on caves by primitive younger races that still believed in divinity.

Tzeentch.

Riddle warily stared at his surroundings. A crystal maze surrounded him. Within its shimmering walls, reality warps and shifts with every step, defying the laws of physics and reason. The maze is comprised of countless facets of crystalline structures, each reflecting the ever-changing hues of Tzeentch's kaleidoscopic realm. To navigate Tzeentch's crystal maze is to court madness and enlightenment in equal measure, for within its labyrinthine depths, nothing is as it seems, and the boundaries of reality blur into a swirling maelstrom of possibility and chaos.

The crystal walls each offered Riddle a glimpse of the future. In one future a psychically charged Riddle wears an eldritch crown while reigning as the supreme king of humanity. In another, Riddle lies dead for defying the gods while the very last of humanity is used as chewing toys by cackling demons. Another glimpse at the top revealed another vision of potential where Riddle is surrounded by beautiful women who worship his immortal body.

Riddle laughed loudly at the absurdity of such childish illusions.

Fine then.

If the lord of deception and magicks relied on childish trickery, Riddle would treat him like a child. He did his magic and transformed into a little girl and proceeded towards the very first of the gates. Riddle would soon master the crystal labyrinth. Neither illusion nor altering reality impacted for what good were these things in front of someone who had split his very soul. The guardian of the maze grew weary, and Riddle could detect fearful tremors within the creature's voice. At the ninth riddle, the guardian caught fire and shrieked as Riddle was booted from the realm.

The lord of Pestilence didn't wait for grand gestures as Riddle entered his realm and immediately assailed him with death and pestilence. He lobbed disease after disease and Riddle's innards crawled with maggots and filth, but he neither cried nor begged for mercy. Riddle merely laughed as his face melted and bones turned into jelly. However, internally Riddle was worried. He had no idea how long he would be able to endure this treatment. Much less, how to escape from this dilemma. When all hope seemed lost, a foreign voice entered his mindscape and gently soothed his wounds.

Riddle gasped as he felt his innards heal and wounds stitched themselves. The air was filled with the scent of beautiful flowers and fresh grass.

Be calm, young human. An ethereal voice whispered in his brain. The plague father cannot maintain such concoctions for long. The voice said.

W-who a-re you? Riddle gasped out.

I am a friend, young master. Remember that when the time comes how I succored your wounds. Be a friend of mine children and I shall aid thee in thine darkest hour. Isha stands for all.

Riddle managed to spit out a thank you before Isha spoke again,

When you confront she who thirsts, remember the mark of Khaine.

The plague father too roared in frustration as his plagues proved futile while Isha protected Riddle. He was ejected from his realm into the nascent realm of Slaanesh. The young goddess was still materializing in her domain and fabric of immaterial still had yet to firmly entrench itself over reality. Riddle spotted another massive, vicious presence that struggled against the young god with all its might. Riddle struck while the iron was hot and struck at Slaanesh from behind. This was the moment Khaine needed and lunged at himself at the shrieking abomination.

Soon Riddle found himself on a plateau beneath an empty, dark sky. The manifestation of four gods appeared before him in a miasma of black goo and corruption.

Submit yourself, mortal. The voice demanded. Then and only then will the gods reward ye.

When the time comes, I will submit. But first I must save my people. Riddle said.

The blackened abomination was silent for a while as the gods conferred amongst themselves.

Untold power and immortality in return for you, mortal. The voice oozed. Choose now or leave forevermore.

Riddle hid a smirk and responded,

I submit.

In an instant his body was wracked by the powers of the wrap. His considerable might grew tenfold. All the impairments of his physical body were wiped away as the Gods blessed him in unison.

Fools. Riddle thought to himself. They will all pay the blood price.

A Return To The Old Ways

Neither will live while the other survives.

The two mortal enemies stared at each other in morbid curiosity. It had been nigh a thousand years since the night at the ministry the two rivals had met face to face. Erda had been gracious enough to organize the meeting between the two on neutral grounds.

"I hear you have turned over a new leaf, Tom." Charlus Potter said.

"My people call me Emperor, Mr. Potter." The emperor replied.

"Perhaps not that much of a new leaf." Charlus chuckled.

"I hear you are not the one for old pages either." The emperor said. "I hear you go by John Grammaticus now. Hero of the resistance militia."

"I try to help whenever I can. The survival of the species trumps all other desires." Charlus now John said.

"I am glad we are on the same page regarding that." The Emperor said. "I will be straight with you, John. You have a fine military mind. Shaped by perhaps one of the greatest military minds of old Earth."

John sat up straight. Here it comes. He thought to himself.

'You have a fine mind, John,' he had said. 'We should talk and consider the options available to beings like us.'

John eyes widened as he made contact with the Emperor. He knew about Erda's research. He knew about the perpetuals!

Meanwhile, the Emperor merely smiled in satisfaction at seeing John's reaction.

"The Void Dragon is currently on Mars. His minions combatting our transhuman Thunder Warriors." He said. "I will be onboard the Blackstone fortress directly confronting the dragon. I need capable commanders to handle the war on the surface world."

"Why me?" John questioned but before he could say further the Emperor interrupted him.

"Let us not stand here on ceremony John or false modesty. The Dragon has its eyes firmly on Earth. Once it over with Mars, it is going there directly." The Emperor said. "You know what's at stake here. Join me or perish."

John snarled in response before acquiescing. The two discussed military matters late into the hour before calling it quits and going to their respective stations. The Emperor turned to walk away before John called him.

"You do know I will kill you one day, tyrant." John said. The Emperor paused and turned to look at him. "Words older than this world had long predicted this. All those centuries ago in the ministry of magic."

The Emperor smiled once again,

"I do hope so. I imagine you will never know peace otherwise."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John said.

"Why John haven't you figured it out by now? A part of me lives inside you." The Emperor now openly grinned at him. "Besides, eternity is a tiresome prospect. I imagine I will need the peace of death sooner rather than later."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John yelled.

"Follow your heart, Potter." The Emperor said and merely walked away.

40,000 Years Later

The astartes known as Cypher swiveled in panic as he heard footsteps behind him, but it was too late. A plasma round struck his face and instantly evaporated it. His massive body fell a moment later. John simply avoided the massive hulk as it fell. Cypher had conveniently dispatched the Adeptus Custodes guarding the throne room and while Constantin Valdor redirected any reinforcements outside to the main battle.

40,000 thousand years. 40 fucking thousand years that's how long it was when he and the Emperor last spoke to each other. Everything had gone too hell. Similar to their first golden age, the armies of the Emperor had marched out in a righteous great crusade bearing holy zeal and fire. They brought an end to the massing orks of Ullanor, liberated humanity from the horrors of the old night. All was going according to plan till that pretentious little shit, Lupercal, revolted. That sent the entire dream into oblivion. So much for grand plans of mighty men. And now 40,000 thousand years later, old horrors are returning to the fold.

The black legion of Chaos was mustering behind the Cicatrix Maledictum. The great devourer massed in untold numbers at the very edge of the galaxy and the pale stars had gone dark. The Necrons were waking up enmasse. The orks were about to go critical and rumors were abounded that evolved KOrks were on the battlefield. Craftworld after craftworld was going silent. As always, the Eldar were too pre-occupied with their own woes to ally against a common enemy. Worse, this had interrupted his retirement plans big time.

John glanced up at the top of the throne. The craft that carried him atop the massive construct silently hummed in background and John jumped at stared at his old nemesis.

"The soul engine hasn't been kind to you, eh bastard" John spat at the shriveled corpse of the Emperor. "Don't worry. I am finally here to pull you out of your misery. Hopefully we get rid of this horcrux in me, so I am finally out of mine." John said as he gave his swords a few practice swings. The ancient sword of Godric Gryffindor looked as bright and sharp as it did all those years ago. The droplets of basilisk venom was still fresh on it. John aimed it at the Emperor's neck and plunged it deep. The sirens blared in agonizing amplitudes as the Emperor's vital signs faded away. John then swung the blade at his wrists and smiled as blood loss took his consciousness away.

Fin

I just felt like writing this. Wrote this in a fever dream, will correct grammar errors sooner rather than later. So bear with it. Thank you!

This will be the second last chapter to this story. The next one will cover 50K, Molech, and Eldrad in depth.