A/N1: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading this chapter before hand.
A/N2: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them.
1 Shin Megami Tensei IV OST - Battle C5 - (Archangel Battle)
2 Fate/Stay Night: Heaven's Feel OST - The flower will bloom
3 BATTLETECH [Soundtrack] 44 - Who Will Watch the Watchers
4 01 BattleTech OST - For All Mankind
5 Xenosaga Episode III - Godsibb Dual Mix (Original x 2020 reprise)
6 This Will Be the Day (feat. Casey Lee Williams)
1
"You once pronounced to know the end of my path, God of Heroes. Allow me to prophesize the end of your legend in return."
The Emperor knelt before Isha as thunder rumbled above them. His body was in a state of constant flux, switching from one persona to the next, numbing his body as ancient human after ancient human materialized and then melted away to be replaced by the next.
"But first, I suppose we should agree on what you really are. After all, we are both aliens to each other." Isha laughed to herself, teetering back on the ledge of the crater, as if she had just made a joke.
"The definition of heroes for your followers are multiple and many, but for my children it was always a term to refer to one beloved by one of my family" Isha's silvery eyes seemed to glow under the dark sky, reflecting the ever shifting Emperor before her.
"In ancient times for humanity, when the term had more worth, it meant the same thing for your kind as well." Isha looked down at her right hand, brow furrowing as she clicked her thumbnail against the one on her middle finger, as if trying to flick out a spec of dirt that had been trapped there. Golden electricity arced between her nails as they clicked together, and the light illuminated her face from below.
"Heroes are the arbiters and executors of divine will. They act in our name with our gifts and our blessings. They sing our praise and name to the masses so more will know of our grandeur and Truth. They are the eternal flame that inspires others to follow in their footsteps far far past the time of their demise through their stories and legends. But…"
Isha placed both hands beside her, on the edge of the crater, balancing on it as one would while sitting on a wall. "There is one unbreakable tenant that must be preserved. A hero is not a god and a god is not a hero. Even in your legends, every mortal who achieves true godhood fades away from the mortal realm."
The Emperor's shifting form buckled as his back arched, suffering under the weight of Isha's words. Steam began to rise from his own body, his own Truth beginning to reject and return him to the Immaterium.
"Heracles, Gilgamesh, Ebisu, the lists are endless, but you should be better acquainted with them. After all, it is you who they arrived at in the end." Isha watched the steaming Emperor boredly before whispering something under her breath. The steam gradually receded, and the ever shifting Emperor slumped forwards, drawing in hissing ragged breaths.
"Gods are not meant to exist in the materium." Isha continued slowly, as if choosing her words carefully before speaking them.
"Heroes are those who act in the mortal realm in our stead, doing things through mortal means so those who worship us can stand on their own feet and grow culture, science, and art to further fuel and expand what we are. Gods are, after all, only as great as the beings that worship them." A wistful look crossed Isha's face as she looked up into the ash obscured sky, which swirled and opened up as a tropospheric hurricane formed high above, opening its eye to allow Isha to stare at the starry sky where her children now sailed upon Craftworlds or hid on Maiden Worlds.
"However…" Isha closed her eyes, and the hurricane dissipated back into the black ash clouds it was made of. "As beings of thoughts and dreams, listening to too many prayers and granting too many wishes can be painful and harmful. Even my own children have slight differences in opinion as to what I am, what I look like, and even who my actual consort was. If we listened and granted every single one of their whims individually, it would eventually tear our mind apart from the inside out, and introduce cracks into our body until we are torn to shreds by the very beings that worship us."
Silver eyes turned back to the Emperor, reflecting the ever shifting suffering form in golden armor.
"The hero allows us to focus who and what we are, for it is far easier to grant the wish of just one than those of the many." The Emperor's form stopped on the face of an aged bearded Arab; skin dark from sunburns with thick bushy eyebrows. The old eyes of the Arab returned Isha's gaze with a sullen look. "In a sense, they are our shield and scapegoat from the beings in the mortal realm. Their failures and evils are theirs alone, but their successes are the result of their loyalty and faith in their god. Even if that is not the truth, the masses see it that way; regardless of what the deity in question or their hero wants."
Isha shrugged, and the old Arab disappeared from the Emperor's face, switching to that of an angry woman of Indian descent who was baring her teeth at the goddess.
"They can be our priest or priestess, our autarch or exarch, or simply just one who is beloved by us. We give them the power that is unmatched by all their peers, and they filter and arbitrate what legends to grow and what beliefs to nurture. With every feat or sermon that strengthens what we are, we reward them with a boon, gift, or divine weapon."
The Emperor's sword, still held in his right hand, released a small gout of flames towards Isha at her words, like a dog barking at a stranger. The Aeldari goddess merely glanced at the weapon, before turning her eyes back to the Emperor.
"Only when the hero fails do we fully intervene. Whether it is their dying cry or desperate plea, we are called from our home in the Sea of Souls to assist them, and show the Truth we contain through our miracles; doing the inexplicable and unbelievable."
Isha pushed off the ledge of the crater, landing softly before the Emperor.
"You are so determined not to be a god so you can remain in the mortal realm. Of course, a god of heroes would try to do that. You understand exactly all they suffer, and all they can become. The pain and torment they never share, and that is never recorded in their legends lies within you. So, in order to spare them in this Age of Strife and partially before that, you have decided to shoulder the mantle of hero yourself."
Isha knelt before the Emperor, bringing her silver eyes to the same level as the Emperor's.
"But, you are not just a hero. You are the God of Heroes. That means your Truth must define what is and isn't a hero."
The Emperor shuddered at her words and grimaced in pain, looking down at the ground, but Isha's hand grabbed him by the hair, forcing his eyes to meet hers.
"All legends have a villain that must be vanquished, and it is only the stories with the greatest monsters that star the most awe inspiring heroes."
Visions formed and faded in the silvery mirror-like surface of Isha's eyes; familiar stories of many headed serpents and lions with indestructible hides.
"I said you were the God of Heroes, but a better description is that you are the summation of their legends. Thus, to record them in their entirety, you must know everything about them and everything they have fought against."
A cruel smile crossed Isha's face as she watched the Emperor's face twist in pain.
"How does it feel to know the very workings of the monsters you have slain? To see through their eyes as they are sliced apart by the hero's sword or strangled to death by their bare hands?"
The Emperor gagged, then spat out a gobbet of charred blood as an indentation appeared on his neck, as if a giant had wrapped an arm around his throat. Isha observed the replication of the Hydra and Nemean lion's deaths on the Emperor, before releasing him; allowing the psychosomatic wounds to fade.
"I am the Goddess of Life, yet I take power from the death of my children. If I only had the definition of what I was, that would be impossible. It is because I am the cycle that I can do this. What I am flows into what I am not before being reborn again in perfect harmony."
Isha rose to her feet as the Emperor recovered his breath.
"You are the two sides to a battle that never ends. The polar opposite of what you are and what you aren't locked together in one mind."
The Emperor, finally having regained some composure, glared up at Isha. The goddess merely smiled at his scowl. It was endearing to her, like the fearful growl of a lost puppy.
"If you were mortal, you could externalize the evil within you; blame someone or something else for everything that is wrong in the world. In some senses, you do that in your day to day life. How much of your hate against the Aeldari and my family is just catharsis to relieve the stress of what you are?"
The smile left Isha's face as the question departed from her lips, and lightning struck behind her throwing up dirt and ash in a small explosion. There was a momentary silence before Isha shook her head and sighed.
"I guess even you do not know the answer to that question." She shrugged before reaching down and grabbing the Empress, now in feminine form, by her chin. Golden electricity arced where her nails came in contact with the fair skin of the Empress.
"Regardless, as a god. You cannot do that. You must know everything about your Truth, including what it is and what it isn't. And, of course, there is the problem that your divided humanity has always had."
Isha turned the Empress's face to the left and then to the right, inspecting her from both sides.
"The hero on one side of a struggle is the villain of the other. Odysseus was the bringer of doom to Troy, riding inside his false steed of wood and metal. He may have been the Greek's hero, but certainly not the Anatolian's."
Satisfied by what she saw, Isha released the now male Emperor and turned away from him.
"Even your vaunted heroes are the villains in someone else's legend, meaning your Truth itself is a muddled mess, almost unable to tell one from the other depending on whose side is taken. Thus, you are doomed to reflect your divine Truth in all that you will build and become."
A burst of laughter came from Isha's mouth turning into intermittent giggling as she spoke, interrupting her speech periodically with gasps for air.
"What great irony that the greatest hero of humanity can also be perceived to be the most evil, brutal, and violent tyrant it has ever known."
Panting from laughter, Isha turned back to the Emperor, still smirking as she did so.
"No wonder they call you the Anathema. You are everything you hate, everything you despise, yet you cannot stop yourself from continuing down the same path you have walked upon for tens of thousands of years."
Golden armored fingers and talons clenched, squeezing the hilt of the Emperor's sword and digging into the dirt.
2
The Emperor was a divine god.
The Emperor was a mortal hero.
The Emperor was the legend's main character and its main villain; whether they be man or monster. It was a walking paradox made flesh that had cheated its way out of the immaterium to enforce its will on the materium.
That was the hypocrisy of the Emperor, and the reason for its inherent instability.
"But, it is because you are composed of such legends that you have power over the Four." Isha continued quietly, momentary mirth now gone and replaced with a solemn expression.
"Every deed you do is recorded in you as an immutable fact. In a sense, your Truth forever grows with every act and deed that is done, growing stronger as your legend grows. Not to mention, what better villain exists than the Ruinous Powers of Chaos for the hero of all humanity to slay?"
The goddess reached down and pinched the Emperor's cheek, shaking his head slightly like an adult would do to a cheeky child.
"Every blow you strike upon them is one that has happened. There is no turning back time or negating that event. They lose what you take from them permanently." Isha chuckled dryly to herself, but her eyes remained wide open, unmoved and empty of mirth. "For creatures that only exist to grow and multiply, you must strike a deep fear in their cores."
Isha tugged one final time on the Emperor's cheek, before releasing him and stepping backwards.
"Although, that toothpick of yours will take the lifetime of every star in this galaxy five times over to gradually chip away even one of them. But, I suppose it would matter little in the Sea of Souls where time has no meaning."
The Emperor's hand tightened around his sword, and the flames on the blade crackled and flared.
Isha ignored both reactions, instead standing to her full height. The ground rippled beneath her feet, like the waves do when some large creature passes under them.
"But was that power worth it, Gilgamesh? Was it worth your travels to my home, and stealing from the Cosmic Serpent?" The face of the aged bearded Arab with dark sunburnt skin and bushy eyebrows returned to the Emperor, gritting his white teeth in anger. "Was learning the basics of legend crafting, and becoming the Anathema to yourself and your purpose worth becoming the Anathema to them and their existence?"
The Emperor drew in a ragged breath and grunted. The face of the old Arab disappeared, returning to the visage the Emperor had when Isha met him. Panting, the Emperor returned the Goddess's gaze.
"I am the sacrifice of more than a hundred human psykers." He spoke slowly, and with every word his shaking limbs stilled and he began to rise from the ground. "I was born to a mortal woman and a mortal father. My name was Neoth. I am a mortal, and I am not a god."
"You are a god, Neoth." That single sentence from Isha forced the Emperor to his knees again with a thud. "Even if your core was so small it required an incarnation before its apotheosis, you are a second generation god just like me. Although, as I said before, you were far more blessed than I ever was."
Isha once again knelt down to reach the Emperor's eye level, and he saw the same swirl of dark green jealousy and black brown hate that mixed within her silvery eyes back upon the Bucephelus.
"You think it was the Aeldari who were given everything; born with a silver spoon in our mouth." She spoke slowly, staring him in the face, unblinking. "But after taking in everything that you are, I must say I am jealous of you." Her eyes reflected his face, but the background and garments were different; showing only a tall man wearing simple tribal garbs standing in a desert. "Your ancient psykers did a good job recovering some of the Old One's knowledge from the Sea of Souls. Of course, the tides of the immaterium itself were kept calm only thanks to the hands of my family and my children."
The image within her eyes changed, now showing a planet devoid of life with large black geometric buildings and arches of unknown purpose that occasionally let out forks of lightning and gouts of flame.
"All of us second generation gods were birthed with the same method; the sacrifice of mortal souls to form a core personality that would later gather legends and power from the Aeldari's thoughts and dreams."
Her voice was almost a whisper, but the hatred within it was sticky and thick, like coal tar.
"Your core came from the willing sacrifice of hundreds of human psykers. The strongest, brightest, and most powerful heroes of every tribe that existed who sacrificed themselves to form the protector they could not be on their own."
Ghostly screams began to ring in the Emperor's ears; feminine wails of pain, loss, fear and anguish.
"My core comes from the sorrows of 3 billion women who would become the mothers of the weapon they wanted. They were impregnated in all manners from forceful to loving by machines, strangers, or their own trusted consorts. They took their children from their wombs, and made them watch as they reforged those babes into tools and sacrifices for their war. They repeated that process as many times as they needed to ensure they knew how I would think and act. Then, they dragged those weeping and wailing women who would form my core to the blazing fires of their God Forges and Soul Engines before injecting each one to the brim with maternal hormones and taking their souls with sacred flames and sacrificial blades."
Thunder roared in the heavens, while the rumble of a volcanic explosion from the ground echoed in the distance.
There was a long pause between them, and the Emperor shifted once again to a different form; the face of a young woman with raven hair in a bob cut appeared.
"You wear your misfortune like a badge of honor." The raven haired woman spoke with a slight Franc accent. "If you were so disgusted with the method of your birth, you should have committed suicide the moment you woke." The woman glared back at Isha, defiantly. "The fact that you didn't shows that you justified the actions that brought you into existence. You stand before me atop the bodies that made you. You, the product of their cruel work, are as much a cause for the suffering of those women as them."
Isha smiled sadly, then she grabbed the Empress by her raven hair and violently dragged her upwards as she stood.
"I am the tears and suffering of every Aeldari mother." said Isha as she looked into the Emperor's eyes. "I am the monster made from their nightmares to fight against the horrors of reality." Ancient battles with unfathomable creatures made of the void of space and the light of stars played out in her pupils, rising out of the depths of her memory. "I am the product of their ancestors' suffering. It is because I went through all that pain and torment that they do not need to ever again. I exist so another me does not."
There was silence between them, interrupted only by the flash of lightning and the roar of thunder. Isha looked at the Emperor, almost pitiably as the woman's face was replaced by his normal masculine one; the face of Neoth.
"You think yourself so unique in your self-appointed martyrdom to your species, but you and I are almost the same." Isha finally said, breaking the silence. "You walk at the forefront of humanity because you know that all others will be found wanting." She chuckled to herself then, before continuing. "Although, it is also your lack of trust that forces you to be here as well. Humanity has been a disappointing species to protect, haven't they?"
The Aeldari goddess leaned towards the Emperor, bringing her lips to his ear, to whisper back its most private secrets and doubts.
"Were they worth everything you gave them, Neoth?" She whispered the same question in the same sad tone from Neoth's memory. "Was it worth seeing what they did with the ancient knowledge of the cruelest and most blasphemous races from the War in Heaven that you shared with them? Was it worth watching them tear themselves and all those you cared about to pieces, drained their blood and devoured their divine flesh in their endless avarice and gluttony? Was it worth watching them create those idealized versions of themselves in your image with genetic sculpting and soul engineering? Or perhaps…"
There was a pause as Isha tittered in his ear.
"You did all that for yourself. Tell me, Neoth. Do you exist only to create problems for yourself to solve, perpetuating your own existence as the savior by ensuring humanity is always in a constant state of disaster?"
The Emperor's arms shook, and his taloned gauntlet attempted to reach upwards, trying to claw at Isha, only to rise halfway and scrape the air in vain. The goddess cast a disdainful look at the Emperor's talons, and dropped her hold on his hair, letting him land at her knees with a thud.
"You accused me and my daughter of dooming the Aeldari." She said as she stepped around him, circling him. "After seeing what you have done, I do not see how you can think of accusing me when your own hands are stained with so much blood."
"But…" Isha said with a finger on her chin. "I can also see that you did not want this outcome." Her voice was pensive this time, quiet and calm with rational thought. "You now suffer for your and their sins. You strive for a better future that is really just a recapturing of their past. You suffer at the sound of my song, precisely because you wonder whether things could have been different."
Isha finished her circle around the Emperor's kneeling form, bowing her waist so they were once again at eye level.
"The path of the hero is but one way life can go. There are other ways to reach the same place, and you've always wondered whether the one you took was the right one."
Her voice took a morose tone, sympathetic and kind.
"You've been afraid all this time, walking endlessly in the darkness with all those behind you, just as blind as any of them but forced to pave the path forwards for no other reason other than no one else would."
Thunder rumbled overhead again as Isha remained quiet, waiting for the Emperor to respond, but the only sound that came from him was the grinding of teeth and the metalling creak and clank of his shuddering limbs.
Isha sighed, and stood upright again.
"There is a way for you to be free of the pain, Neoth. Free from the suffering my song induces."
The Emperor looked up at her, prostrated before her like a sinner before a Sister.
"Become mine, Neoth."
The Emperor blinked, surprised at what was offered, then an even deeper scowl chiseled itself into his brow.
"You would go to wherever I point, only having to rationalize my divine choice in a mortal manner. You would be unfettered from doubt, free from guilt, and utterly obedient to my will. How does that sound? Your kind will be forever immortalized in the cycle of life, ensured to return to the planets I deem worthy of my miracle. I will take care of humanity, as another client race of the Aeldari."
"A slave race." The Emperor hissed back.
Isha snorted. "Are the bacteria that help you digest food in your gut a slave to you? Are the mitochondria trapped in your cells allowing you to use deadly oxygen as an agent for more efficient metabolism a slave to you? No, they are not. You will be as they are, another glorious part of the whole in the cycle of life; eternal, unending, and vibrant."
The goddess's hands rose, cupping the Emperor's face from both sides, nails once again sparking with golden electricity where they contacted the Emperor's skin.
"Your people will be better looked after in my hands than any bureaucrat or governor you could ever instate. They will grow and prosper as another part of the life necessary for my Truth."
Thick green stems sprouted out of the ground around the Emperor, and then split open revealing thousands of sticky red tentacle-like protrusions. Oversized carnivorous sundew plants unfurled themselves, producing sticky droplets of acids and enzymes from their long, bulbous, swollen, red, feeding, tendrils that covered the inside of their leaves.
"Tell me, Neoth. Show me the humanity you wished to recover and rebuild."
—-
3
The world grew dark as the Aeldari goddess's plants closed in on all sides around me. But, it was not them that took the light from my eyes.
Whatever Isha had injected into me during our struggle in space was wrapping around my true form within me. I could feel shadowy hands grasping at my shoulders, wrists, and legs. Echoing alien voices whispered into my ears, telling me their stories of alien lives in ancient times.
These were not souls, but simple memories of the Aeldari who had returned to Isha. But, that did not make them any less dangerous. Their personalities remained, even though the soul was gone, and they scraped and scratched at my form, attempting to find some way into what I am and onto my path.
The bricks I laid grind together, as the increased weight placed upon me strains the path.
These shadows are just information, but I cannot decode or understand them.
Their eyes and ears saw and heard things human senses could not.
Their internal organs were not even remotely close to a human's, bearing resemblance to several different species all in the same body. Nerve endings connecting to tissues and systems that have no name in human physiology confuse and confound my attempts to see the way they perceive the world.
These shadows are intelligent, but they have no purpose, no will, no goal. The only thing they do is exist, and the only place within me to exist is upon my path or within myself. Thus, they attempt to worm their way into those places.
As shadowy figure after shadowy figure wraps around me, piling on my like autumn leaves raked together in a pile, or dirty laundry dumped in a hamper, I feel myself slowing down.
'Were they worth everything you gave them?' The old question asked in that sad voice echoes in the darkness.
Were they worth everything?
I do not know.
I fought for humanity as a whole this entire time, but even then I was never sure if that was the right thing to do. It was simply the most utilitarian and the most efficient path to take.
No, it was simply the easiest path. What doubt is there when simple numbers are all that matter?
In this galaxy, one man or woman means little. Even an entire planet's population is nothing but a statistic in the grand scheme of things.
The only things truly priceless are time and knowledge.
Time, because it can never return.
Knowledge, because humanity's only evolutionary advantage is its brain.
Everything else could be replaced, but was it really worth it?
I had almost replaced everything I had and everyone I wanted with what I thought I needed for humanity to survive.
Culture, religion, autonomy, government. All of these would be expunged at the end of my crusade, leaving only the Imperial Truth and the bureaucracy I built to manage it.
However, it would be a bitter reward at the end. Afterall, I had left behind or converted everything else into fuel in order to take the shortest route to even more shortcuts.
Nobody would smile at my work, nor would they rejoice at a job well done by my side.
Why had I done that?
It was all done so I could reclaim the galaxy for mankind, so it could stand alone among the stars.
And why did humanity need to stand alone among the stars?
The federation humanity had built in the past had failed, tearing itself apart and descending into madness. The grand experiment humanity had conducted on itself had failed. They had their chance once already. Why did I toil to give them another?
What did it matter anyways?
My story was done here. Brought low by my pride and underestimation of an enemy I thought had been defeated. The legend of the Emperor ended this day, as well as humanity's autonomy.
But… despite all that, I felt a slight bit of relief.
I am tired… so tired…
As the dark shadows enveloped myself and the path, a small smile crossed my face.
There was a sort of irony with this ending. I had already gone to the Aeldari's pantheon for help once. Although delayed, I had gotten what I had wanted in a sense. I would be eternal, and humanity would be saved. I would finally be free from wandering. You could say this was the answer to a cry for help made tens of thousands of years ago.
There will be no more doubt, and no more questions. As before, there will be only my path, but I will no longer walk before it blind.
No, I will be as blind as always. It will be the decision of where to go that I will be freed from.
4
Suddenly, light returns to my eyes.
A semi-industrial city surrounding a central park appears before me. The armor I permanently wear now is gone, replaced by a black turtle-neck sweater and khaki trousers.
I remember this place. It was a scene from almost 15,000 years ago. A small dusty city, built only a few light years from Terra. Cold sleep and sub-light traversal were the only way to get from one habitable planet to the next, and even after reaching their destination several generations were necessary to replicate even the smallest metropolis of Terra.
Warp travel and the STC database would come much later, with all their unpredicted dangers and unimaginable horrors.
The federation colonies of this age, so divided by time and space, were kept together only thanks to the primitive Warp based communication technologies that had been slowly developed since the 3rd millenia. Each new colony devised its own individual system of government, assured partial autonomy by the federation's constitution.
However, the sheer distance between Terra and her colonies meant that control was virtually non-existent.
Furthermore, the many generations required to replicate a post-industrial society meant centuries were spent away from Terra.
Free from past norms and with nothing but fresh ground to build upon, each colony quickly differentiated itself from the others, resulting in cities with completely different cultures and governing systems existing on the same planet.
Rickety democracies and absolute authoritarian rule existed within the same systems. Kleptocracy and corporatocracy stood above hundreds of huddled masses that survived with the barest scraps only thanks to their local communalism and micro-scale socialistic societies that would one day provide the kindling for a peaceful or violent revolution against all those that held them down. But, all of this was unremarkable, for it was only a retelling of the history Terra had already experienced.
Naturally, it didn't take long for war to break out.
But, despite the volatile nature of humanity, there was happiness, fulfillment, and hope.
This was still the beginning of an age of expansion; an age of discovery.
New machines were built from old ones.
New technologies were created out of the remains of ancient pre-history of Xenos species.
But, most importantly of all…
It was an age humanity had made. An age without gods or demons. An age where humanity made their own decisions. An age made of splintered, fractured, constantly bickering worlds with individualistic states all striving for their own personal definition of betterment.
I look around me at the familiar city. This was before Molech. Before the desolation of Terra. Before the creation of the Navigator houses. Before the Abominable Intelligences and the Omnissiah.
Two laughing children run down the street towards me. Innocent souls with so much potential, burning brightly amongst the gloom and doom with loving parents who shelter them from the harsh government and cruel society they live in.
A smile crosses my lips as they run past, then fades as I steel myself for what I know is to come, for high above in the cloudy sky I can hear a high pitched whistling growing louder.
A slow sigh exits my nose, and I close my eyes as a megaton payload phosphex bomb detonates overhead.
When my eyes open, there is only rubble and fire. Every person at ground zero is gone. Children and their parents, people young and old, good samaritans and evil miscreants; all incinerated in an instant. Their souls start to disappear into the immaterium, the manner in which they have died dictating who reaches for them. But, before they fall into the bloody brass claws of Khorne's daemons, my own psychic touch pulls them back, recording everything they ever did and saw into the legend of humanity. This is the way I keep them safe. Even the lowliest pauper has a place in legend, even if it is to serve as the backdrop for the hero's passing. There, they will be safe, immortalized in this image of humanity's barbarity, even if they cannot pass into the Elysian fields.
"This is the age humanity has made." I told myself brushing the ash and dirt falling onto my shoulder.
This is a time of transient peace, broken only by even briefer war. A time where mountainous differences are made out of the smallest molehills, all so birds that have preened and plucked themselves till they become of the same feather can flock together; not knowing or caring that it is their own distant cousins they burn at the stake.
It is a time like any other time in human history.
As I walked through the ruins, recording and recovering every life that was lost at this moment, a wailing man stumbled from the ruins of his home. We were both far from the point the bomb had detonated above, but his home was mostly flattened.
Beneath the cracked cement, broken glass, and twisted rebar a small unmoving hand laid partially buried.
The man continued to wail, blind to his surroundings, blind to his own pain as small shards of glass and wood stuck out of his back.
Gradually, the pained wail took on a different tone. Hoarse cries began to turn into a monstrous growl. But, before the Bloodletter that had been preparing to burst out of his flesh could take hold, my hand landed on his head and a jolt of golden electricity sparked from his eyes, liquifying his brain in an instant and sending his corpse to the ground with a thud.
The man's soul struggled in my hand, before slowly melting into my palm.
This was my role in all of this. A grim reaper of sorts who walked through battlefields, cesspools, and sites of atrocity to ensure the souls of humanity did not fall into the hands of Chaos due to their own base actions.
As I look back on the burning remains of the once vibrant city, my mind casts further back into memory within a memory.
5
I came into being eons ago to hold back the immaterial, the unnatural, and the alien.
At first all I did was fight against the predators and daemons that sought to feed on humanity.
Then, when humanity spread so far across Terra my hands could not reach them, I taught, led, and bred with them to strengthen them as a species.
When my attempts at significantly strengthening them failed, I traveled across the Sea of Souls and sought to learn how to better myself to protect them.
After I was rebuffed at the Aeldari's gates, I snuck into their vaunted Webway and stole from Saim-Hann.
Battle after battle against daemons, monsters, Enslavers, Psychneuein, and the shard of the Void Dragon strengthened me; allowing me to scar even Chaos who grew across the galaxy during the same time.
Now, I record everything in the conjoined legends of humanity, and keep their actions from sending their souls to the daemons and Ruinous Powers of the Warp.
I exist to ensure their worlds remain theirs. I fight against the things they stand no chance against.
That is my Truth. That is my path.
So…
Get out of my way.
My hand reaches out, and grabs one of the shadows surrounding me by the throat.
It was as Isha said. I am the legend of humanity. I am their story made manifest. Every monster slain is recorded down to the finest most despicable detail, making me take from both victor and vanquished.
I have defeated Aeldari. My soldiers have slain their warriors, and my own hands have taken their lives.
Therefore, no matter how alien they are, they are but one part of humanity's story, another enemy that has been defeated.
The shadow's neck cracks and silvery streams of information begin to seep out, like threads from torn fabric.
Emotions, far deeper and all consuming than any human one seeps into my mind.
Their elongated ears listened to voices made from the conjoined human-like pharynx and avian syrinx connected to lungs that served only to pump air into blood vessel lined air sacs where the real gas exchange would take place.
Stories in alien tongues and languages describing thoughts and concepts dissimilar but recognizable as love, pain, and suffering echoed in the dark.
I cannot understand all of it or empathize with it, yet I commit it all verbatim to memory.
That is what I have done for countless years, blinding myself to what I recorded within me, all so the path would be unpolluted but still buttressed against all past horrors.
My eyes glare at the next long-eared shadow within reach as the one in my hand slowly disappears.
You all exist within my mind. You are now part of my memories. You are all mine!
Slowly, the submerged path begins to rise, inky shadows pouring off it like muddy waters receding after a flood. The golden path remains unbroken, and I still stand at the forefront.
The recorded alien knowledge begins to flow inside my head. Everything unreadable is thrown into a pile beside me. I cannot destroy it, but I can keep it from distracting me for now.
Isha did not force all her memories onto me. The amount of data here is too small for that. At best, it is merely a record as long as my own. 40 to 50 thousand years worth of billions of Aeldari memories. But, it is not just any information she has given me.
She took the entire legend of humanity, and replicated my Truth within her.
To do that, she would have had to give something equally valuable, like the information I am reciting now.
I can see it… the effect of exchanging information between gods, and that one decoded piece of information serves as a Rosetta stone for the rest.
Shadow after shadow is processed, assimilated into my main body and converted into pure knowledge and data. Everything else is labeled as alien and left to the wayside.
Sweat beads down my forehead as the exertion boils my brain from the inside, but I have pushed through worse. This is but the same process of assimilation when I tore open the Omnissiah's head, and when I entered the remaining neurons of the Void Dragon's brain.
The junk data formed from tens of billions of lives is taxing to wade through, and the sheer volume had slowed my step. But, no more. Even if it is a few millimeters, my right foot moves past the other, and steps on a new golden brick laid out for humanity.
The shadows still cling to my head and body, but my hand is wrapped around the neck of another one of their number, deconstructing and decoding it.
'Were they worth everything you gave them?'
That question doesn't matter.
Worthy or unworthy, big or small, few or many, all of that utilitarian thought can go out the window.
It doesn't matter if there is no hope. It doesn't matter whether there is a point to this. It doesn't matter how many lives Isha's hands might save.
Humanity must exist without gods or daemons. It is their hands that must build their world.
I look upwards, rising back from the depths of my mind, and return to my body.
—-
6
Isha watched, as her plants closed in on the Emperor, sticky tendrils waving slowly as they prepared to digest everything they touched.
The Emperor twitched, and Isha's eyes widened.
"Do not…" The Emperor's hand tightened around his sword, then slashed upwards, angled towards his own face, aimed at Isha's wrists. "MOCK ME!" The sword cut through empty air as Isha jumped backwards, only to bring both her hands forwards as roaring flames exploded outwards from the Emperor, incinerating the surrounding sundew. "I am the EMPEROR, MASTER OF MANKIND, and the PROTECTOR OF ALL HUMANITY!" He rose from the center of the flames, all weakness of the limbs gone and fully in control of himself. "It would be better to DIE than SURRENDER to the likes of YOU!"
Isha slashed her nails before her, clawing open a hole in the approaching wall of flames while simultaneously twirling in midair to fit through the hole she opened.
"You will regret not finishing me off when you had the chance; you gloating Xenos witch." The Emperor glowered at the goddess as she landed, unscathed, back on the lip of the crater above him.
Isha's shoulders shook, then she threw her head back, releasing mad laughter.
"Yes… YES!" Isha cried out, as a wide smile spread across her face as she turned back to the Emperor, golden flames roaring in the center of her own silvery eyes. "This is humanity! The arrogant, disobedient, self-destructive race that spurns the hand given to it only to steal what it was gifted freely!"
"Humanity is a species of failures, losers, and fools." The Emperor's face changed, swiftly switching between several different heroes from humanity's past. Heroes who fought, died, and found themselves in the Elysian fields that formed the Emperor's essence. "BUT!" The Emperor's sword swung upwards, pointing at Isha's face. "They always rise no matter how arrogant or ignorant their actions may seem! I have watched them destroy themselves again and again. Yet, they still remain; even if it is in a lesser state. That is their nature, and their strength! It is because humanity can forget the hard earned lessons, and the pain of punishment for their actions that they move forwards without losing their innocent naive hope! That is humanity! That is their power! And they are now mine and mine alone! So long as I exist, they will be saved and so long as they exist I can never be stopped!"
The Emperor's aura expanded outwards, washing over the ground and Isha, causing the tips of her hair to smoulder, as if small embers had landed between the strands. But, soon after, lightning struck right next to him, forcing him to condense his aura back into himself, glaring at Isha as he did so.
"Masochistic madman." Isha laughed, brushing her hair over one shoulder, sending a small plume of smoke that quickly melted back into her hand. "You once pronounced the end of my path, now allow me to return the favor." Her laughter continued to echo around them as she spoke; simultaneously superpositioned sounds both young and old rang out around the both of them. "Listen to the prophecy of the daughter of fate and mother to the giver and dreams and vision." Twin sounds of joy, the twinkling mirth of a young girl mixed with the nasal cackling of an ancient crone separated out from the conjoined laughter, rising in pitch as they traveled past the Emperor and then growing deeper as the doppler effect took hold with their return to Isha. "I am not as precognizant as them, so I will only give you the self-evident prophecy that you already know but ignore with all your heart."
"Even as all hope of progress disappears and only your name holds all of humanity together, you will never stop saving them. You will become what you hate most of all, and the apotheosis you returned from shall claim you once more. That is your fate, and the story of all heroes who eventually walk to the end of their path. Suffer eternally for the sins of humanity and scream forever as they pile worship on your undeserving head. Watch as everything you built and everything you dreamed of dies and becomes what you hate most. A theocracy dedicated to the one and only God Emperor of Mankind. Serve the sycophants. Answer the unquestioningly loyal zealots. Give your Truth to the billions and billions of unremarkable souls that serve without knowing why or what they fight for, and weep when your words fall on deaf ears clogged with prayers."
Isha's mouth smiled softly at the Emperor, but her eyes were wide open, giving her face the look of a predatory grin a wolf has before its prey.
"God or Goddess of Humanity's Heroes, you will forever be the torch in the endless night sky, alone, afraid, and forever leading the masses of humanity forwards even as the endless march grinds their feet to dust. For even in death your duty will NEVER end."
The Emperor snorted at the goddess's prophecy.
"You preach to the converted. I know my fate. I already know that future is one of the most likely possibilities that awaits me. But, I do not care! I do not fight to win! I fight because I must! Even if there is nothing but darkness among the stars, I shall take my place upon the golden throne, and be the burning beacon that shines light into every corner of the galaxy for their sake!"
"Then come, insane god of all mankind!" Thunder roared overhead at her words and the ground beneath both of their feet shifted and growled beneath them as a massive earthquake shook the tectonic plate they stood upon; the quickening movements of a waking newborn within the womb. "Repeat your deeds in vain while illogically hoping for a better outcome. I shall help you reap the bitter harvest that you have sown."
Golden talons closed around the Emperor's sword, as he scraped the auramite claws against the blade of his divine weapon. Fire spread from the sword to the gauntlet, wreathing both in golden flames.
Isha laughed again, high pitched, mocking, and gleeful. "The observers, onlookers, and even your peanut gallery is gone. Now, let the second round of divine debate commence."
The Emperor leapt from the crater, descending upon Isha like an artillery shell.