Molech
A lone being stood on the surface of an otherwise empty and desolate world. The being had many names and titles of the course of his countless lives. So called him the king of ages, others the ancient of days, and in the days to come he would be known as the Emperor. But for all of his titles, only one mattered to him to now, the title of anathema.
It was that aspect which drew him here, to the heart of the enemy. Here he was to trick that which he was meant to destroy, to steal the very fire from the so-called gods which would burn them to the ground. Many had doubted him and his methods, they said he was hasty, impatient, impertinent to dangers which faced him.
In reality he knew the dangers he was facing, he knew just how deceitful the great enemy could be. And he also knew the dangers of inaction and sometimes one had to make an opportunity to be able to seize it. He sometimes wondered why the rest could not see the way he did, the urgency and the horrors to come. For it was not just the Four that were a danger to humanity.
The Orks, the failed experiments of the Old Ones, had been left to run rampant in the galaxy. They are scattered now, but all it could take is one Ork strong enough to gather them and wash the galaxy in blood and carnage. Speaking of the Old Ones, their ancient enemy lays dormant but way day shall rise again. Even the distant galaxies hold threats to mankind, for the great devourer looms, ever hungry for its next meal.
And there are many more threats besides these that plague his thoughts. Things like the Ragdan, and the unspeakable horrors which prowl the ghoul stars. There are near endless possibilities and so many of them, yet so few of them are good for humanity as a whole. Yet, he has found the "golden path", he has found the way forward.
It is a terrible path, of this much he is certain. There will be war, death, and destruction on a scale that is unimaginable. Many will hate him, many will question him, worlds will burn and trillions will die. He will have to do the unspeakable and become a tyrant worse than any other. But what alternative is there really when faced with extinction?
With a wave of his hand he cleared through debris and revealed a cave. Silently the Emperor walked through the cave, using preternatural scenes far beyond the ken of lesser minds. He could sense the eldritch energy of the warp calling to even him as his aura repulsed it. Down he descended into the proverbial abyss, his aura illuminating the way as he trekked for felt like an eternity.
Perhaps it was an eternity of sorts, for the rules of logic and reason rarely seemed to apply to the warp. Eventually he reached a gateway which ozed with equal parts untamed power and malice. Each inch of the portal was etched with words older than mankind itself, each symbol infused with a power of its own. He paused for a second, momentarily considering his path and
consequences of his actions. The voices of all previous companions rang in his ears, as did the voices of those he felled in his many millennia. For a second, he contemplated turning back, of finding a different path forward but steadied himself. He couldn't doubt himself, not now, not ever again. And thus he stepped forward, to set humanity on the "golden path" to not only survival but ascension.
To describe what awaited him in the realm of the so-called gods would be beyond the ken of mortal men. It was a place where imagination met metaphor, where insanity met possibilities far beyond even the greatest of minds to imagine. There he met the so-called gods and made the gambit that would secure the future of mankind and their unwitting demisde. As he received the boons he swindled from gods, visions of the future flooded into his mind.
He saw a future of heresy, of brother against brother. He saw the first found, the Luna Wolf, lead eight of his brothers against him. He saw the galaxy in flames and the dream died in flames. He saw a dark King nearly rise and consume all, and a despoiler tear the galaxy in twain. As he tried to prepare for this cataclysm, he saw numerous branches and splinters. In one timeline it was the Lion who led them against him, in another it was the Avenging Son, others it was the Cyclops or the Gorgon.
While the end of all those timelines was beyond even his sight, these futures were enough to give him pause. For an eternity he contemplated what to do before doing the one thing that his alternatives apparently did not, he rejected them. Mustering his considerable might, he altered the skeins of fate and changed the aspects of his sons. The warp echoed and violently convulsed as new possibilities were realized. The Emperor looked upon his new creations, his future sight now blind to what to lay ahead. Before him now were new roles for his sons, new souls and destinies.
The first: The Hero.
The second: the Mechanist.
The third: The Champion
The Fourth: The Warrior
The fifth: The Sorcerer.
The sixth: The Poet.
The Seventh: The Protector.
The Eight: The Inventor.
The Ninth: The Philosopher.
The Tenth: The Scientist.
The Eleventh: The Enforcer.
The Twelfth: The Scout.
The Thirteenth: The Statesman.
The Fourteenth: The Duelist.
The Fifteenth: The Martyr.
The Sixteenth: The Judge.
The Seventeenth: The Admiral.
The Eighteenth: The Assassin.
The Nineteenth: The Lost.
The Twentieth: The Damned.
Without his future sight he couldn't tell who would turn and who would remain loyal. But already he could see the bonds and rivalries form. Would the Assassin envy the Hero? Would the Statesman fear the Judge? Only time would tell, for the gambit has been pulled, the die cast and plans set in motion.
And thus the Emperor left the realm of madness and metaphors, of endless possibilities and infinite potential. The fate of the galaxy forever altered, as new prophecies arise and powers denied find new opportunities. And in the depths of the warp the Great Mutator laughs as he crafts a grand new scheme……