A massive snarling brown war dog wearing a spiked collar stood frozen in time before me. It was about the size of a large rottweiler. The god-hologram-creature glided near, observing my stance.
"Balance your weight on the ball of your foot. And, stop hyperextending your knee, foolish girl!" the shadow of Spoiled Prince scolded me again as I stood in a ready position while holding a long thin holographic blade in my right hand, and the Nemeses Argentum in my left. Ever since the hologram had informed me that the blades of my artifact would eventually be slightly curved when fully matured, the swords that I trained with possessed a subtle bend. Right now, I was alternating between using the shorter Nemeses Argentum blade and the longer illusory sword in my primary hand to get used to using two blades.
Pale Lord observed my corrected stance and nodded, satisfied. "Now, focus your Divine Sight on the intention of your opponent. You will need to watch the weapon as well as the mind of your foe. His weapon is his teeth, now, go!"
The Inheritor unfroze the snarling war dog before me, and it charged, leaping into the air! I slowed time and reached into the intentions of the beast launching itself toward me in mid-air, and discovered that it was reaching for my neck. Quickly, I stepped backward and to the left, breaking the dog's aim before I temporarily increased my weight. Now heavier, I sprung forward, and struck the creature in a lunge just under its lower jaw, causing both my momentum and its own weight to impale itself on my blade. Time sped up again, and the war dog briefly yelped before vanishing from existence. I gasped, feeling my heart protest my continued heavy use of Sight. This was annoying, but I needed to weather my new Inheritor-specific angina if I was going to learn how to fight. if I died, whatever; I would just get better.
Pale Lord and I had been training for over a week. I was now gratefully moving away from the "get beaten up constantly" part of my time here, and now, I was actually learning how to defend myself. On top of the business of learning swords, I was also getting in shape. The hologram detailed a strength and cardio training course to toughen me up. I ran laps around the holographic arena and lifted weights in a small dojo I had newly discovered as a part of the Manse. Curiously, I noticed that my heart didn't really give me trouble unless I was using a heavy amount of Sight, and I only really used that when explicitly learning swordplay here. When I asked the Inheritor-hologram about my aching heart, he simply repeated that I would "evolve away" from having chest pains, which wasn't reassuring.
The Inheritor didn't talk much as he trained me, and when he did speak, some of his information appeared to have holes or glitches in its programming, which was frustrating. I had looked forward to learning some interesting Dark Age of Technology lore, and what the galaxy was like back in his day (which, I had discovered, was somewhere around the year 22-24k). At one point, he bragged that he was as good of a "technomancer" as Iron Will, his direct predecessor. Conveniently, the hologram froze for a few moments right after that boast, and he didn't remember what he was talking about when he started "working" again. When I asked about Obsidian City and the rightmost gate that I hadn't viewed yet, he wasn't able to share much information. The Inheritor repeated that I would "enjoy it," whatever the "it" was concerning Obsidian City.
Today was a typical training day, and the lesson of the moment was how to keep my body balanced and ready for anything. Being a Sight user, I was taught that I had an obscene advantage in melee combat. On top of messing with time, I could magically lessen or increase my weight just by thinking about it. Size was another thing I would eventually be able to control, but the Inheritor informed me that I wasn't quite strong enough for that just yet. Increasing one's weight for a split second was almost as good as time control sometimes, as you could increase the power and momentum of a sword strike.
In the last few days, the Inheritor-hologram had also begun to summon illusory monsters and other beasts out of thin air for me to practice my new skills on. After getting fake-mauled twice by a hologram of a war dog, I finally got my act together enough that I was able to skewer one here, which made me feel a sense of accomplishment. I stood catching my breath, my heart aching. I sheathed the Nemeses Argentum and placed my left hand over my chest.
"That pain, it won't be forever," the hologram said with one of his eerie inhuman smiles as he observed me clutching my chest. "The parts of you that experience this pain will die, and what will remain is your power, unimpeded and unstoppable. Witness my mastery, my heir. You will become as I."
The Inheritor snapped his fingers, and the landscape changed around me.
Instantly, I now found myself high in the stands of the imaginary arena, and below, the Inheritor stood in his giant armored form again, his black and gold armor glittering in the fake sunlight. He wore his jeweled crown, and he smiled at me before purring, "Observe," in his massive voice.
The Inheritor turned, and before him, a black draconic monster twice the armored hologram's size appeared in the arena. It was a serpentine beast with six muscular clawed limbs, almost reminding me of an interpretation of a fantastical basilisk with a Komodo dragon-type body. Behind, it had a very long tail that terminated into two spined prongs that it held behind and over its body like a scorpion. Instantly, the Inheritor's two swords appeared in his hands. In his "giant" form, each silver blade was easily longer than I was tall, and from here, I could also see tiny glowing runes that glittered on the reflective silver of the blade. Faint blue fire kissed each sword gently as the Inheritor brought himself into position, his molten eyes gleaming with pride as he glanced upward at me to make sure that I was watching. Again, he kept his hair long and loose, only bound by his jeweled crown. This really didn't make much practical sense, but a lot of my life didn't make practical sense, so I just watched.
"Begin," the hologram gently spoke.
The dragon, like the dog I had just "killed," immediately launched itself with a roar toward the Inheritor, nearly instantly rearing upward like a striking serpent. The simulation itself slowed so that I wouldn't have to use Sight to see the movement of this battle. Pale Lord moved like a giant ballet dancer, dodging backward in an artful recreation of how I had dodged the war dog. The dragon's maw snapped shut close to Pale Lord's face. While the creature failed to maul the Inheritor, I watched as its two stinger tails whipped forward, fast even in slowed time. Pale Lord responded by immediately crossing his swords parallel to the ground before his chest, and then, as the striking tails came in range, he turned the blades upward, and expanded his arms, chopping off both tail tips of the beast in a move that appeared almost choreographed.
Time sped up again as the beast screamed and withdrew, its tail stumps scorched and cauterized. The Inheritor-hologram winked in my direction, and then, he threw his right sword straight up in the air where it rotated twice before the hologram effortlessly caught it again. The dragon creature, not deterred, madly sprung forward again, and again, time slowed, this time dramatically and almost to stoppage. I then watched in amazement as the Inheritor then danced away to appear behind the attacking beast. Showboating, time sped back up again, and as the dragon pounced on empty air, the Inheritor gently tapped its haunches with his left blade in a mocking, almost cartoonish gesture. The beast, confused and in pain, attempted to whirl around again. Before it could strike, the Inheritor had strafed to the beast's blind side in a fast blur. His swords burst into brilliant blue and gold fire. The Inheritor, now blazing like a star, swung his right blade in a low upward swing, bisecting the unfortunate dragon somewhere along its midsection. Fire exploded around the beast's body, and its screams were blessedly cut off before it vanished into pixels.
The Inheritor turned toward me, his Corona on full blast, his eyes burning like dark stars, and his long white hair fanning behind him like a cape. He smiled, basking in my amazement at his form.
"Once you are strong, you will be as I am, and you will do as I do," the godlike hologram laughed, his arms extended, holding his flaming swords upward in a gesture of triumph.
I blinked, and then, I saw an image of the same man, but this time, he was afraid. A shadow of infectious darkness was racing across his gold armor, and his gold eyes were filled with surprised fright as they began to dim along with his halo. Both his swords fell from his grip, and I watched as he recoiled from something above him. A laughing shadow of many colors fell across the sky...
Reality reformed itself, and now, I witnessed the Inheritor smiling before me again. I jumped backward, disoriented.
"Do not be alarmed, my heir. Celebrate your inevitability as a living god in a universe of beautiful possibilities! Worlds will effortlessly bow to you, and you will be a creature without peer," the Inheritor laughed, apparently amused at my emotional reaction (and not understanding that I had just had a vision). The hologram resized to his smaller body again. He flickered. "You have now crossed the threshold for your six hours of training today. Do you wish for company in your later meal?"
"Uh, no, sorry," I said, swallowing heavily and reeling from my latest vision. "I'm sort of tired. I think I just want to take the rest of the day off."
The Inheritor lightly bowed toward me, and said, "Very well. Summon me when you wish for my company again." He and the arena then vanished, and I was now standing in the main simulation area again.
I spent the rest of the day (or evening) pondering over what I had seen in my vision as I ate gourmet burgers cooked by my holographic chef-daemons. A few days ago, I had tried talking to these unfortunate entities, but sadly, they were genuinely solely devoted to cooking, and could not be effectively spoken to in normal conversation. This whole place, while beautiful and amazing, was very weird and unsettling. It was also pretty lonely, as everyone and everything I communicated with wasn't actually alive. But, I needed to learn how to fight in this universe. From what I remembered in the lore, melee combat worked "better" with fighting daemons because of some kind of emotional quotient. Anything that enabled me to exist and succeed in this universe would help me survive my long trip to Molech, I thought with resolution.
After a big dinner, I headed up to my suite for a massage by a physical therapist hologram and a bath in a black marble jacuzzi. Again, I remembered just how shitty my life was back home, and that all this luxury was spoiling me. Eating and living well was something I could get used to, I thought. People deferred to me instead of taking advantage of me, and my abilities were increasing in potency. Maybe this wasn't all so bad, I thought, burrowing into the big comfortable bed all appropriately tired out from a day of training.
That night, I dreamed...
"Are you sure you want to do this?" a woman asked from far away in a wide dark space that echoed like a cave. "This place gives me the creeps."
The feathers on my neck and head stood on end. I inhaled deeply, sensing the emotion around me. Something had drawn my attention. I swam through the dark maze of time, searching for what I had heard.
"I'm definitely sure," a familiar man's voice responded, his voice echoing. "I want to go home. This has all been fun, but I want to go home. You guys can keep the ship if he lets me through."
I was suddenly aware that I was float-walking down a long dark hall. The space was a massive corridor of obsidian, easily over ten meters in height with a pointed cathedral-like ceiling. To my left, I was floating alongside a translucent smoky wall of black glass. The glass separated me from a group of people that I could halfway see. The atmosphere here was thick with magic and energy. Power swirled like a liquid wind, but I float-walked through it without difficulty. I glided like a cloud, my form breezing through the region like a wandering dream.
The hall was lit by odd blue torches interspersed at regular intervals. The torches put off a strange, otherworldly light in this dark hall, almost as if they emitted magic instead of smoke. But, I wasn't interested in torches; I was interested in the people here.
I found myself drawn to the sense of hope that surrounded this place. The people smelled just so interesting!
The group of souls continued to walk without speaking, and I followed them alongside the glass wall. While they could not see me, I found that I was very curious about this crowd. The man who had said that he had wanted to go home was very "bright" to my vision somehow, almost as if he had an angelic gold halo. His light even seemed to burn me when I tried to study him, and I felt repelled by his presence somehow. The gold man that scalded my senses was very familiar. Where had I seen this guy before?
Disconcerted, I tried to study the group further. After a short time, they became somewhat clearer. I sniffed the air with my very being. These were mostly immortal souls. They were like me, I curiously observed. Or, like how I had used to be, I found myself thinking with sadness without knowing why. Still, this was very intriguing, so I continued to follow them down the hall. Because of the glass, they didn't appear to see me.
"I heard that this Wizard, whoever or whatever he is, likes to ask for a token to pass through the Gate," an indistinct woman spoke in the group. "I'm sorry, but are we just... going in blind? We should have studied this place more before visiting."
"The guardian of the Gate has been known to request a token," another man with a familiar voice spoke up. His soul was bright and powerful. "It may be cryptic, or it may be obvious, but most likely, it is proportional to the passage that is being requested. I, for one, have a duty to this universe, so I will remain, as I remind you all. For you all, the token requested for passage will likely be difficult to obtain." His tone was irritated.
"Oh, do lighten up. Have some optimism for once, my friend. Maybe this will be simple," another, similarly powerful man spoke up. This person walked with a cane, and I could sense that he was smiling. The former man didn't respond, and through my insight into their emotive cloud, I could tell that these two men did not like one another.
"Do you think it'll be like, a broomstick like in Wizard of Oz? This is sorta like that, you know? What do you think, Bastian?" a lighthearted female voice asked. Her soul was thick with bright hope and optimism. "Are we gonna have to kill a Wicked Witch?"
Wizard of Oz? I thought for a moment. Why did that sound familiar? I continued to follow the intriguing group down the majestic black hall filled with blue torches.
"Hold on, let me see," Bastian responded. He, along with the group, was now stopped. I could see a faint gold glow had visually appeared around his shoulders and neck as he bowed his head. Again, when I focused on him, I felt great discomfort. "I can't see that part of the path ahead. It's unclear, so I don't know." The man shrugged, and his halo lessened again. I felt like I genuinely knew this guy from somewhere, but where? Bastian then began to examine the glass wall I watched this group from behind. He approached it, and his features grew clearer. I could now tell that his eyes were as gold as his aura, and his hair was dark.
I recoiled as he examined the glass, but after a few moments, the group continued their walk down the hall. I continued following them, and I dragged one of my six-fingered hands against the glass wall as I followed Bastian and his friends. Why was this all so familiar?
The vision of the group abruptly vanished. Confused, I stopped. Through the glass before me, I saw a very familiar woman with long braided black and white hair and gold eyes looking into the glass wall instead, just like Bastian had done. The lady wore a wreath of gold laurels around her head, making her distinctive. She looked worried as she studied the glass wall. Could she see me? She held a bottle in one of her hands, and she glanced around as if nervous. Why was all this so terribly familiar? I crossed two pairs of my arms across my chest and sighed in irritation.
The woman in the glass appeared to look right at me for a brief moment before continuing to observe her surroundings, and then, an amused laugh radiated through everything that was me, nearly resonating within me like a tuning fork. A wicked intelligence reached out, and through my essence, it began to speak through me using my own voice.
"It is familiar because you viewed this place when you were in flesh and because you now exist in a timeless space as my ageless champion. Sometimes, to chase the ennui of eternity away, you do as many of my childer do, and numb your memories so that you can experience novelty! You always wanted to see old Bastian here in this location during his 'before' time!" I heard myself speaking in a voice of many whispers. And suddenly, the information was placed inside my head, and I understood.
This hall was located in the world of Molech (or, as it was previously named by another conqueror, Milcom), and it was very close to the Gate leading to the Deep Warp! The proximity to the Deep Warp gate suffused this area with power and magic, and... I was observing this area through the eyes of a daemon?! And the woman with the black and white hair was me! I reeled backward from the glass, suddenly terrified of my own clawed white hands! "My" reflection appeared similarly freaked out, and then, she vanished, and I was alone with the evil whispers. What was going on?! I had too many hands, and they all had six fingers! What had happened to me?!
The presence within me laughed as it effortlessly read my intention, and I began speaking again to myself in a foreign voice:
"Oh, how you are endlessly amusing in your self-imposed ignorance, little one! You are looking through your own eyes that I have constructed for you as my eternal plaything. But, I do suppose you are also looking upon this event as the soul that you used to be, and that the metaphysics of eternity and this current Materium location are fuzzing things up a bit. If that is true, simply see this vision as a reminder that eventually, fate brings you to my embrace. You become one of my most favorite toys, and I will keep you forever, your essence bound to me until all stars go cold. You are saved in my hell for all time, and I will never relinquish you, my delicious little ornament, my extension of will and power. And, speaking of that, I require you for a project. Time for you to come home, little one..."
An ethereal pseudopod reached behind me, curling around my very being. I felt myself summoned (or more like dragged) back to the Great Ocean again to be with the rest of my hideous new "family" for another meeting at an infernal court beneath the throne of the eldritch-god-creature that I was forced to venerate. I remember feeling grateful that I was permitted to scream this time...
And then, I woke up with a scream in my bed!
Quickly, I reached upward to touch my face, my arms, and the rest of my body, reassuring myself that I was still human, or at least mostly human. I turned to my nightstand and placed my laurel crown on my head. Traumatized shivers raced through me, and I tried to put everything out of my mind. After a short time, the laurels did their job, and I was now calmed down enough so that I could attempt to parse what I had seen in my vision-dream. With a heavy exhale, I flopped back down on the bed. I was still freaked out, however, and I was shaking like a leaf.
With a thought, I summoned one of the chef-daemons to request a bottle of whisky, which I promptly drank a third of as I sat up in bed. Alcohol was nearly ineffective now, but if I drank a lot in a short amount of time, I could at least take the edge off now and again while experiencing existential crises.
The Obsidian City! I saw it! Milcom and Molech were the same planet! And... and I was a daemon!
Was that really what I had seen? Was it true? All of it? The Inheritor-hologram had told me before that the names of planets change over the years, and I had seen first hand that Tzeentch loves sadistically screwing with people in his customary manipulative style.
I continued drinking my whisky. This was a bottle of Suntory, according to the label. Centering myself, I began to ponder what I had witnessed. There appeared to be a very "human"-looking version of Sebastian as he walked with a small group of what may have been Perpetuals down a hall made of magic-saturated obsidian. From what I remembered from the Harlequin performance (and if that was accurate), Sebastian had visited Molech twice. What I had seen appeared to be the first visit, as the old Inheritor wasn't familiar with the Wizard or how traversing a Gate would work.
But... that Gate! That was my final destination! And the center arch Gate outside led right there! It was a shortcut to Molech!
"That center arch leads to Molech? Seriously?" I whispered aloud, incredulously. I meditated on this briefly, closing my eyes. With a slight push of Sight, I reached forward, searching for the truth using my psyker abilities. Amazingly, it was confirmed without a doubt. Molech and Milcom were the same world! And that meant...
The Gate to the Deep Warp. It was right around the corner! Was my quest... almost over?
I felt manic relief wash through me in a giddy sigh. Amazing! One of those Gates outside led to fucking Molech! I began to laugh and laugh before I began to weep in relief. "Fuck," I choked. I could go home soon! I could leave this cursed reality behind! No more Chaos and no more Tzeentch, I thought before immediately remembering that I had actually seen humanoid Tzeentch in my reality at the art gallery. I chose not to dwell on that and decided to be hopeful instead.
Checking the time, I realized that I had woken up two hours early, and since I was too excited and freaked out (on top of being slightly intoxicated) to fall back asleep, I decided to get dressed and take a walk so I could process what I had just experienced. Rifling through the closet in my bedroom, I found a fitted black tunic with metallic gold trim that fit nicely. It appeared somewhat stylish, and it went well with my black trousers and tall boots. A new jeweled scabbard held my Nemeses Argentum (which now always felt slightly warm to the touch), and I braided my hair into two long braids Dorothy Gale-style beneath my laurels. Before I left, I decided to invite Jiminy to come along with me. The little mantis had put himself in a power saver mode after I hadn't used him in a few days, and with a chirp, the drone fully activated himself again and launched himself toward me to land on my shoulder.
"I guess I should be recording some of my time in here for Null later, huh?" I asked the drone, which buzzed in acknowledgment on my shoulder. Okay, time to go. I picked up my bottle of Suntory (which was now down to half full) and made my way outside.
Once again, the weather outside of the Manse was a perfect breezy twilight in late spring. I began to happily whistle the song "Over the Rainbow" from The Wizard of Oz, my steps light with incredulous relief.
I enjoyed my little walk down the tree-lined red brick road as I drank my Suntory whisky while trying to process what I had seen. My Corona irregularly licked around my head and shoulders. Using Sight, I tried to test if what I had seen about me being a daemon was the truth, but sadly, I couldn't quite discern that part of my vision, and a small headache blossomed along my temples. Tzeentch was probably just fucking with me again since there was no damn way I'd agree to being a Daemon Prince. Even the idea of being a Prince now felt completely repugnant thanks to the mental conditioning of the Divine Retribution's oversoul. Sadly, I then remembered again that Angron hadn't actually agreed to become a Daemon Prince either, but I had a measure of big gold eagle protection, so I was pretty sure I couldn't easily be elevated against my will.
The wooded scenery and the red brick road vanished before me, and now, I stood facing the three tall arches. The gateways shimmered like whirling water on a disturbed pond. I drank a few more gulps of whisky, and stepped forward, examining the center arch again.
Holy shit! Molech!
It.
Was.
Right.
There!
The archway even led to the same general area as the Gate to the Deep Warp, which explained the electric fuzzy feeling I had sensed earlier when viewing that location.
I took another drink and walked closer to the center arch, entranced. With my outstretched left hand, I reached for the gateway's border. I touched it, and images of the dark halls of Obsidian City flitted through my mind's eye.
"What do you think, buddy?" I asked the metal drone perched on my shoulder. The insect did not respond, but it did flutter its metal wings briefly. "I... I could go through this arch, see the Wizard, and that would be that. Maybe he wouldn't ask for me to do something for him or to bring him anything from some kind of interstellar fetch quest," I mumbled, still somewhat giddy from the revelation that my quest might really be over right now. I paused. Shit, the Wizard (whoever and whatever he was) was probably going to ask me for something, wasn't he? That's how the story goes. I hoped this Wizard guy wasn't just Tzeentch sitting on his throne in the Warp laughing at me again. From what I remember from the Harlequin performance, it didn't seem like that was the case. According to the Harlequins, the Wizard was some sort of giant eldritch gold entity on a huge black throne.
I stood near the arch, watching its entryway ripple like water.
But, maybe I could at least figure out what the Wizard wanted before heading back to my crew, and...
Oh, right, my crew, I thought, drinking more. I was lightly trembling. What would happen to them if I just took off and left them on Ix? Could Alberich or Rasputin pilot that ship to whatever they wanted to do? Would the ship elevate Alberich since I left him in charge? This universe would get a genuine unrepentant Nazi as its new Emperor, I pondered before admitting to myself that things probably wouldn't change too much under Nazi Emperor Alberich.
I sighed. I probably shouldn't just leave this entire universe, I thought, drinking again. I kind of had a responsibility here. But, I could still go through this arch right now, ask the Wizard what I would need to get through the Gate, and then, come back later with whatever the Wizard had requested (assuming he would request anything). This sounded like a good idea, I thought. I took another drink. If this looked like it would take longer than like an hour, I would just head back through the arch, no problem. I need to make sure I get out of this universe, I thought stubbornly. The thought of being Tzeentch's eternal plaything was absolutely repugnant to me, and I needed to explore my options.
Just to be cautious, I touched the archway again with a usage of Sight. Once again, I saw the massive yawning space of obsidian and blue torches. There wasn't anyone there. I got an additional sense that this space was underground too. Too bad I knew almost nothing about this area from my spotty lore knowledge. With an extra nudge of Sight, I determined that the air was temperate and breathable, and there were no traps. A faint smell of incense hung in the air.
An inner sense told me that my plan here was impulsive and probably a bad idea, but after that last vision, I wanted to be proactive in getting out of this universe. I wouldn't stay in there, but if the Wizard was like, the next Gate over, it would be silly not to do this. The world I was on was probably doomed from my visit so I needed to do this now instead of waiting. I had one opportunity to do this, and this was it. Shivering, I took a gulp of whisky in order to chase the jitters away, held my breath, and stepped through the center arch. Let's go. In and out. Quick adventure!
Elsewhere:
"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," Alberich hissed as he sat on the rightmost throne of the Divine Retribution. "Integrate me," he commanded the godlike machine. He felt the entity reach into his soul like a parasitic vine. Painful electricity momentarily raced through his veins. He had a theory that the greedy machine had taken a piece of his soul when he had first linked with it.
The German psyker felt his consciousness expand as he linked with the machine. He exhaled as he felt his small halo briefly flicker into existence. Alberich enjoyed a few quiet moments before he sensed a distasteful figure approaching.
"It does not get any better? Connecting with the ship?" the drunk infamous historical figure asked behind him as he tottered onto the bridge. "It tore into me like a bear, and my hair and beard, they changed!"
"No, it does not," Alberich answered in a near growl, gripping the armrests of his mechanical throne.
Russians, the German Traveler internally sneered. He hated Russians. Out of all of the people he was taught to hate by his former allegiance, he hated Russians almost as much as the primary enemies of the German people. He hated their duplicity, their savagery, their lack of propriety. Standartenführer Vogel had always told him to be wary of the Reds. Russians were unevolved, drunk brutes. On top of their poor Slavic genetics, their adherence to communism made them even more repugnant.
But, right now, the Traveler swallowed his distaste. Alberich had been ordered to cooperate by the person he had sworn an oath to, and he intended to follow any future orders perfectly. Alberich understood that he was on unsteady ground after his leader had castigated him in the parlor in the form of a terrifying giant, so he would not make any more mistakes. As upsetting as that event was, he conceded to himself that the power she wielded only further proved that she was ordained by God. Later, Alberich reassured himself that he was divinely placed to guide this anointed figure to her destiny, which was bound to be beautiful in a universe as wondrous as this one.
Beautiful things could happen under the will of a powerful soul chosen by fate and God. Such things included conquering an entire galaxy, he thought with a small smile.
Occasionally, the German Traveler found himself contemplating his doppelgänger, which was, no doubt, very far away now. It was surreal to know that somewhere out there, there was a "copy" of his soul in a two-headed mutant body. The dreams he had from time to time were now very confusing. Sometimes, Alberich saw himself presiding over a congregation of cultists in blue robes, each singing their praises to the God of Change. A version of him now existed to venerate the Great Architect but that copy shared a body with a ruthless cult leader. Was he doing well?
He probably wasn't, Alberich conceded with a sigh.
"My touchy German friend from another universe, I have been wondering..." Rasputin interrupted Alberich's thoughts as he glided past his seat to briefly stop beside the center throne, which he touched with a long bony finger. The smell of liquor trailed behind the notorious historical figure. "How are you adjusting to your new reality? I now understand that you are truly new here. Mere weeks! When I first discovered my situation ten years ago, I was not pleased. I had to improve my English so very quickly while also mastering my mystical strengths. It was an adjustment. Years of learning!" The Russian summoned a small white ball in his hand, which he began to juggle playfully in the air.
"As best as I can," Alberich answered, closing his eyes and facing forward. He directed the Divine Retribution to turn its head and examine the local area, which it did. The German Traveler now saw a detailed mental picture of the area directly surrounding the vessel in about a ten-kilometer radius. He also sensed that his Führerin had just arrived at the distant tower in the mountains, her life energy as bright as a golden sun in a clear sky. A woman. The creator had chosen a woman in this universe. How surprising. But, a vow was a vow, and he aimed to keep it.
The drunk Russian gasped, and asked, "Are you doing this?"
Alberich could tell that Rasputin meant the movement of the vessel's head. "Yes," he answered curtly.
A few moments of blessed silence passed. He sensed that Rasputin was now sitting himself down on his throne. "How do you connect yourself?" the Mad Monk asked.
"Will it to happen, but do not interfere with me. I was given orders to surveil the area."
"I see," Rasputin murmured. A moment later, the German psyker felt the presence of the infamous lecher blend itself into the oversoul of the gold eagle. Like this? he mentally transmitted.
"Yes," Alberich responded shortly in voice, continuing his appointed vigilance. His attention was brought to the south, and he discovered a group of tribesmen making their way through the snow toward their current location on a fairly well-traveled path. Their group, which numbered about ten people, had what appeared to be a witch doctor at its head. Realizing the psychic feat of what he had just easily discerned, Alberich grinned. This vessel truly worked as a magnifier of psychic strength. Intuitively, Alberich could tell that these primitives had no intention of harming anyone associated with the eagle. The cavemen even seemed to be excited to witness it in person. It almost seemed to be like a tour group.
My dear German psyker, Rasputin telepathically purred as Alberich observed the primitives hiking in the snow. I sense that you hold resentment toward me. I have been told by our God-chosen that two world wars have not been kind to Germany. Is your temperament sour because of such things?
"I'm not interested in speaking with you," Alberich responded audibly.
While I admit to making a dark joke or two, I hold no genuine ill will against the German people, even ones filled with bitterness and a well-hidden twist of Chaotic taint.
Alberich turned and peered across the empty center throne to glower at Rasputin, who winked at him greasily.
While you think you can hide it, I can still smell it. Or, at least I can sense that your heart still yearns for one of the Chaos Gods.
What do you want? Alberich telepathically snapped.
It was instructed by our mistress that we learn to be friends. She wishes us to cooperate, and I wish to follow this instruction. To cooperate, I enjoy learning about people so that I can be as good a friend as I can be. I do not judge a man for his beliefs.
Friends? Alberich laughed. I have read about you. You're a scurrilous individual. You enjoy women, alcohol, and manipulation. You only serve yourself.
Rasputin chuckled and leaned back on his throne. He stared unblinking into the German Traveler's eyes. Just as the Divine Retribution had been slowly changing Alberich's eyes from blue to gold (in both bodies), Rasputin's eyes now had a slight gold ring around his irises. It made the Mad Monk look especially intimidating. I serve the Almighty eternally and those with whom I have sworn myself. Our interests should align, German. We are both in a unique and celebrated position.
You probably just want to sleep with her, knowing your history, Alberich growled.
Rasputin laughed. I love women, my tense young man. Certainly, even Germans could find enough energy to devote to the caress of a particularly beautiful woman. Powerful women, now, that is an even more wonderful thing, and I must admit that I enjoy the stern continence and unpredictable ferocity of our God-mistress! But, I digress. What I truthfully observe is that we are both positioned in a most wonderful position beside the will of a rising divine creature.
Alberich continued watching Rasputin, who smiled eerily in his direction. The Russian's eyes had a penetrating quality, and the psyker suddenly remembered that back in his reality, this man was said to be the devil himself. Alberich blinked and looked away.
Rasputin continued speaking. We should be friends, German. Firstly, I am willing to put aside all conflict and learn to work with you. Secondly, I wanted to see if you even appreciate the position that you have found yourself in. Tell me, has anyone ever told you the tale of Malcador the Sigilite?
Alberich nodded. He continued observing the tribesmen as they hiked in the snow, their souls bright with wonder. The Divine Retribution's oversoul informed him that some of these people thought the Great Eagle was a kind of heavenly messenger. Alberich summoned his attention back to the bridge to attend to Rasputin's question, which he answered audibly. "I've been told that he was a powerful psyker and the Emperor of Mankind's confidant."
"Yes, that is true. From what I have studied in the ten years I have been here, I have learned that he was also a brilliant man, a genius of empire-building and social engineering." Rasputin paused, briefly closed his eyes, and grinned. "Maybe not completely an empire-building genius seeing the state of the Imperium today, but still a powerful and influential psyker. It was said that he was immune to the fear-presence and light of the Emperor and that his words became laws once they visited the Emperor's ear. And, speaking of the Emperor, what have you heard of that unfortunate fellow? Do you know where he is presently?"
"He's on Earth, and Earth is now named Holy Terra. He sits on a throne like the one that our leader sits on, but he's comatose. In a way, he's dead, but also alive." The German Traveler pointed toward the center throne. "They tell me that half of his twenty demigod sons rebelled against him and that the subsequent war tore the galaxy asunder over ten thousand years ago," Alberich responded, pulling upon his new knowledge that had gleaned from his leader, Virgil, and Lian. "The people in this reality call him a God-Emperor, but that isn't quite right. He was once a normal man. Once upon a time, he sat upon the central throne as this vessel's captain"
"Good. You have been taught adequately." Rasputin nodded, eyeing the central throne with a smile. The drunk Russian stroked one of the armrests of his throne like it was the back of an affectionate cat. "This ship, I believe, devoured the human that the Emperor of Mankind once was. Not exactly as a lion devours a lamb, but it consumed his willpower under its own alien imperative. His humanity was exsanguinated. The man was killed but the Emperor remained." Rasputin stopped, closed his eyes, and nodded. "I have some theories. My understanding is that you could presumably take nearly any Traveler and place them in that central seat and curse them with terrible deific power." The Mad Monk continued watching the German psyker, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Do you ever hunger for it, Alberich? The power this gold bird can grant someone? It seems to be hurting our mistress, but she grows ever more powerful." Rasputin then raised his right hand and made a brief, almost dismissive swatting gesture toward the center throne.
Alberich found himself shaking his head. "No. My role here is to aid, to assist," he responded. His former leader, from what Reichsführer Himmler had personally told him, was afflicted with numerous anxieties and health issues rumored to be spiritual in nature. Madness, power, and instability were intertwined with these chosen souls of God sent to lead humanity. Sometimes, it was better to be an advisor instead of a king. "I am loyal to my leader," Alberich simply answered.
"A wise decision. I would never want to be subject to the kind of mystic assault that our dear tsarina is enduring. From what I have witnessed, the eye of this God machine wreaks havoc on the soul," Rasputin said, shaking his head. "I would never wish to shoulder such a burden and since you are intelligent, I suspect you are being truthful that you would not want it either. What I do enjoy is a more subtle position. To be the whisper in the ear of a powerful person who needs your counsel is an excellent place to be."
"Get to your point," Alberich chafed.
Rasputin laughed and continued to stare in his direction. The Mad Monk had an undeniable aura of power, and ten years in this universe had no doubt taught him much.
"Like I said earlier, I want you and I to cooperate. We are in a unique position to guide the aims of a semi-conscious young deity who does not know how to handle the spirit that pushes against her. She will need help to rule in her future. I wonder if the mysterious makers of this vessel made our co-navigator seats less mentally intrusive for this reason. We are meant as ballast to a vessel that would otherwise list and roll against the tides of fate. We are meant to not only give energy to this bird in flight but we are meant to give wisdom to its captain, to temper burgeoning madness with a wise whisper. So yes, my goal is for us to be more amicable as we ride this wave of fate to glory."
Alberich lounged back on his throne, gripping its golden armrests. "While you have a point, it seems that you're trying to do the same thing to this new reality that you did in Russia."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" the Mad Monk asked with a smile. "The Romanovs were anointed people in need of spiritual guidance, and I swore themselves to their family eternally. For me, this is simply an extension of my vows, as her surname is Romanov. I wish to serve God in aiding his chosen to act in wisdom, not impulsivity."
"For you, it seems this is less about God and more about power."
"You still do not quite understand what I say," Rasputin responded with a snort before switching to telepathy. Think of it like this metaphor. An incredible warhorse of power is ridden by a great king. The king guides and trains the horse, and the horse leads the king fearlessly into battle. Does history remember the warhorse or the great king?
Alberich was about to respond with annoyance, as he was growing tired of Rasputin's syrupy words, but then, he abruptly sat up straight on his throne. The psyker's awareness automatically swung outward toward the mad Tech-priest's tower. The head of the eagle turned toward the north. Inside his mind, the gold vessel impassively informed Alberich, Captain out of range.
"Captain out of range?" Rasputin also responded, blinking repeatedly. He had heard the same message. "What does that mean?"
Alberich closed his eyes and asked the terrifying gold spirit in the Divine Retribution to define its latest statement. Words appeared on the center display:
Primary Captain, Human v22, designation: Omega.
Status: out of range. Captain's location: minimum 10,000 light years distant from vessel.
"Where is the Inheritor?" a new voice spoke on the bridge. Virgil had apparently materialized on the bridge and had not been noticed until now. He stood behind Alberich's throne.
A small screen opened up at the bottom of each of the two co-pilot's holographic displays. It was Null. He stood in what appeared to be an engineering area filled with blinking lights and strange futuristic technologies. "I also see the message you both see on the bridge, and I feel obligated to explain so that no one becomes frightened. The Inheritor, as I explained before, is in a simulation space where time does not pass. She is training herself how to fight with blades to better defend herself. The ship likely cannot sense its primary captain with full effectiveness if she is in such a temporally deviant space. Just wait. She will likely return very soon, so do not worry."
"Thank you," Alberich responded quickly. "I... I became anxious at seeing that notation. And in case you are not aware, I also report that a group of primitive tribesmen with a witch doctor are on their way here. I'm uncertain as to their motivations, but they are primitive, and the ship can defend itself against mostly anything so small, as we have seen."
"Poor time for that," Null responded with a dry laugh. One of the battle servitors that the Tech-priest kept lumbered behind him. He had mentioned earlier that he would activate his defensive automata in anticipation of any trouble, which was smart. "We will probably have some xenos and heretek company soon, and these individuals do not have the strength to defend themselves."
"We wait for her return?" Rasputin asked, his staring eyes growing concerned. There was a very long pause. "Pardon me graciously for any perceived ignorance, but if time does not pass where our lady captain ventured to, should she not already have returned in the time we have been speaking?"
Null blinked, and he shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing," Null replied. "Just wait. She will reappear."
Another way too long pause. Rasputin turned toward the German psyker again, worried. The group made nervous small talk about the weather outside and various current events in the galaxy.
After ten minutes, the German Traveler instinctually felt that something wasn't right.
"Something's wrong. I feel it," Alberich broke the silence. "I will look for her. My ability to remote view is stronger now." Mentally, the Traveler requested the Divine Retribution to find its missing captain, and if possible, to put the location of its captain on the holographic screens in front of them.
The Divine Retribution strained, and then, Alberich was immediately relieved to see a map of the local region appear again on the central display. Their icon was an eagle with its wings spread, and a gold star icon sat atop the location of Jinnicky's mountain tower. The German psyker sighed, but his relief was short-lived, as the star vanished before the map began to dramatically pull back. He briefly observed a snowy chain of mountains before the view expanded to include an entire continent. The Traveler could feel the Divine Retribution searching for its master.
Further out, and now, they looked upon the world of Ix from above, and further still, they were now looking upon an area of stars in their local galactic location. The strain of this action was beginning to cause him discomfort, but Alberich continued his search.
Virgil gasped and stepped into the German psyker's field of view before the holographic screen. Alberich could tell that the hologram man was very anxious.
"Shit," Rasputin murmured as a large portion of the damn Milky Way galaxy was now in view on the display, along with the colorful blotches of hellfire that stained it in places. The map finally stopped zooming out, and now, the German psyker's attention was brought to the star icon, which had reappeared once again on a distant world tens of thousands of light years away to the southwest! A name appeared over his captain's location just before Alberich dropped his effort. The Traveler's ears, eyes, and nose were all bleeding from the psychic strain of this incredible endeavor. He doubled over on his throne, gripping his head.
"Oh... oh no," Null spoke up in a soft voice from his screen. "No... Why is she there already?"
"Molech?" Rasputin asked quietly. "How the hell is she over there?"
"How... what happened?" Virgil asked. "Isn't that where we're going?"
"The arch Gate in Jinnicky's tower," Null quickly answered, closing his animated eyes and shaking his head. "She described that there were multiple Gates inside inside a simulation space within the dig site. She must have passed through another arch, and now, she is on... Molech."
"She wouldn't just leave us here, would she?" Virgil whispered in shock.
Another long wait. Wherever she was, she wasn't instantly turning around.
Alberich pulled himself back up. At the very least, he could sense that his leader was alive, but he couldn't communicate with her. Even with the Divine Retribution, she was too far away.
"The Gate to the Deep Warp. She's probably looking for that Gate," Null spoke quickly, his eyes moving rapidly as if trying to fish a large memory to the surface. "There are other lesser gates in its proximity. Yes, I remember. And, yes, I... oh..." the Tech-priest's eyes flickered as if he had experienced a dramatic revelation. "The Obsidian City! I remember now! That's why it was familiar to me! The Obsidian City is the site garrisoned directly over the Gate to the Deep Warp beneath the surface of Molech!"
"She wanted to go there. They say the Emperor went there," Virgil remarked, stepping forward, his holographic form shimmering. "You... you don't think that she'd just leave us here, would she? The hereteks are on their way, and the vessel is still too injured to leave. Alberich, if we need you to, can you fly the vessel?"
The German psyker dizzily leaned over the side of his throne, and dry heaved as he trembled. Alberich shook his head and laughed bitterly. "Does it look like I can?" he groaned, pain further spreading across his body from the psychic feat he had just accomplished. "The ship still recognizes her as full captain. I don't think I..."
Alberich, for the briefest of moments, seriously considered finding a way to wrench the Divine Retribution away from its erratic American lady captain.
Instantly, the ship recognized the Traveler's intentions and screamed inside Alberich's mind with the fury of a supernova!
YOU WILL OBEY YOU WILL SUBMIT YOU WILL NOT REACH!
The message was clear. He was not permitted to even consider mutiny if his captain was still alive and healthy. Alberich sat gaping on his throne, its hot metal burning him as his fellow crewmembers worried about what they would do since their captain didn't seem to be turning around to come back to them. They were completely unaware of the violent spirit that was now jealously scouring him, searching for more treachery in every corner of his mind. Blessedly, it ceased its examinations after only a few moments. Seemingly satisfied, the presence then crawled like animate fire up his body and soul, reaching for his willpower, and bending him to its will like a sapling in a storm. After a few moments of trying (and failing) to scream, Alberich found himself speaking a few words that he did not intend as a hotter gold halo began to envelop both him and his throne.
"She... will... return..." Not-Alberich calmly responded to the rest of the crew in an alien voice of many, channeling the symphonic choir of the godly egregore inside the divine machine. In this mix of voices, he recognized the voice of the Emperor that he had heard when the Inheritor had been possessed. Almost in a gesture of backhanded comfort, the machine-deity then psychically offered the Traveler a parcel of the future, showing him the short path that lay before him. The German psyker then suddenly somehow knew that his leader would return to this vessel after her visit to Molech. The burning presence then withdrew from his flesh and spirit, and the terrorized Traveler promptly lost consciousness.