**Author's notes: Views are still broken for authors on this site; comments are appreciated so I know people that people are reading this fic. This is an exposition chapter, and the next update has more "stuff" happening. This fic just crossed its two year anniversary, so hurray!**

I spent the rest of the day in the library with some of my crew while waiting for Null to investigate the Horse of a Different Color for damage and taint. Many of my crew picked out books to read during their down time, and the sisters continued to practice their English. The art lounge was of particular interest to both Lian and Virgil who kneeled before Sebastian's portrait. I asked if anyone had heard of the name "Erda" or what "Mag'ladroth" meant, but sadly, none of my crew recognized anyone besides Sebastian after I had pointed him out. After a time, my crew became curious about the locked door, and after an extra warning not to touch anything, I decided to unlock it.

Lian, as expected, was moved to tears at the sight of the giant gold bed and shed black hairs. He groveled on the floor, muttering prayers in Latin (or High Gothic). Virgil comforted the Fallen Paladin, and together, the two faithful discussed what this could mean going forward, and how the Emperor himself must have guided their destinies to their current situation.

Hearing this, I sighed, and remembered that there was definitely an eldritch power out there that enjoyed manipulating fate and destiny for fun. I had to describe to Alberich and the two Blank women why the giant bed had caused such an emotional reaction in some of my crew, and Ennoia had something interesting to add, which she did in Nubuan.

"The Weeping King, yes," she said, nodding. "While it is written that some Inheritors walk as giants among those with brighter souls, the Weeping King came to our leaders in a humble guise. Old teachings tell us of the mutable appearance of these beings. It is said that because of fate's touch with the Great Eagle, their appearances are changeable to those that behold them."

"Does the physical body actually change, or is it just how people see them?" I asked, now remembering that I had temporarily shifted to a giant physical form a few times now. Not only that, the drunk guy that I stolen clothes from during my escape from Evna had apparently seen a man instead of a woman when he looked upon me. This was all very confusing, and I again wished that I had paid more attention to my lore back home.

"From what we have been taught, the perception of a powerful Inheritor can change when viewed by different eyes. While the Weeping King came to us in humility, if he had wished it, he could have appeared in any form that he desired. Or, alternatively, he may also appear in accordance to what people expect to see of him. But, my sister and I, because of our shadow souls, we see through such illusions, and we would only ever see a humble man."

"So, it's a sort of glamour thing, or an illusion?" I contemplated. "People look at him and see different things, and he can influence how he is seen?"

Morai offered more information, "Yes. As we say, if he wishes to be perceived as a giant, then a giant he will be to most of the people who witness him. To us, we would always see him in his humble shape without his glamour veil. It is part of the reason we were chosen as sacred guards."

I translated what the sisters had said to the rest of my crew, and as I did so, the Fallen Paladin's brow furrowed. "The Emperor was a giant when he walked the galaxy," Lian curtly instructed. "All our teachings and history tell us so. A living god of righteous light. This bed proves this."

"But, I'm sleeping in the captain's suite where Sebastian definitely slept too, and my bed is normal human sized," I spoke. "I'm getting taller, but only a little at a time."

Ennoia spoke in Nubuan again in response to this in a conciliatory tone. I then noticed that while it seemed she could understand English adequately now, speaking was a different affair. "We do not wish to offend anyone. This is simply what we were taught as the keepers of the Heart of Worlds." She then paused, and turned to me while speaking in Nubuan. "Omega, we are curious, and we wonder if we can make a request. Ask the others what they see when they witness you."

"I don't think I'm strong enough to have a glamour yet," I replied nervously while scratching my head. Sebastian's glamour was why he was seen as a huge gold guy? I turned to my crewmembers. "So, Ennoia has a question, and I'm curious too. What do you folks see when you look at me? I mean, besides my burned skin and the mark on my neck."

Lian studied me from his height. "You are shorter than I am, and your eyes glow bright with divinity. You possess a halo of gold light about your crown. I have witnessed you in visions as a warrior clad in gold armor with long white hair wielding two swords. But, one thing is constant. Your halo is ever present, and has been since our escape from Nubua. I witness it even now."

But, my Corona wasn't "on" right now, I wondered, placing my hand up around my head, bewildered at what Lian was seeing.

Rasputin was next. "I see no halo a majority of the time, tsarina, but sometimes, you do brighten. When you become immersed in gold light, an aura of fear and power encompasses you. It's actually quite exhilarating to be near, I must say. Strong women set a fire in me." The Mad Monk chuckled, and studied me critically again. "Sometimes, your hair shifts to white and back again, and there have been times where I think I witness you as a giant for a moment, but I am unsure, since I have at times been deep in my cups."

"No halo. No Corona-gold," Ennoia stated. "No sleep woman. Tired woman. Black-white."

"Still powerful," Morai offered. "Still Inheritor. Still Omega."

"You always hold a halo," Virgil spoke up, studying me. "It is always aglow, but sometimes it brightens. I also see your hair change like an unstable image on a cogitator, much like Rasputin does."

Woah, I thought. I had no idea that this was happening!

Zok stood nearby, studying me with his wise eyes. "You have a halo of gold sometimes, but not all always. I have seen it shine like a fire rainbow at the governor's party after you destroyed a wing of the palace, and your eyes glowed brightly then. Now, no halo, nothing glows. Normal human woman with gold eyes and black and white hair. You all see a halo? I do not see it," the Tzaangor wondered, pointing toward me. "Strange."

Alberich stood nearby, listening to everyone else speak, and what he said was somewhat interesting. "I-I presumed I was growing mad, but this is what I perceive: You always have a halo of gold, almost like an angel from the Bible. Sometimes it is brighter, and other times, dimmer. Like Zok, I saw the rainbow halo at the palace. Your light sometimes makes you difficult to stand before, and I must look away often. Your hair, while black and white now, sometimes shifts to a great mane of full blonde hair, like that of a Nordic heroine. A few times I have witnessed you as a giant Aryan Valkyrie, a defender of the master race of humans with a stern continence. I feel an urge to obey you in all things as well. An instinctual one." Alberich furrowed his brow. "Sometimes I have seen you at over three meters in height. Just today, in fact. A giant. A-a living goddess of retribution."

Lian turned to Alberich, nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I feel similarly," Lian agreed with a nod. Unexpectedly, he then smiled widely. "One day, I have prepared myself that I will see you at the head of legions, your light amplified and commanding your warriors against the enemies of mankind. Alberich, you are lucky to see her as a giant, for you witness our Inheritor's true form in what she will become. You must be under great favor."

This conversation was starting to make me uncomfortable, and Alberich, hearing this, appeared disturbed and looked away. I could tell he was flashing back to when I had picked him up and threatened him a few hours ago.

"I had no idea you all were seeing different things when you look at me," I replied, surprised. While I had been cognizant that I had occasionally taken a huge shape, I didn't know that everyone was seeing me in a slightly different light. I noticed that Alberich, who was standing nearby, was now trembling. "This still doesn't explain this giant bed. If Bastian could change his height, why would he have this bed?"

"All will be revealed in time, of that I am certain," Lian rumbled. "But, I can easily see that you're getting stronger. In time, I know that I will see you as the warrior you will become, and I patiently await that glorious day." The Fallen Paladin actually then flashed a smile with teeth. It was then that I realized that before today, I had never really seen Lian genuinely smile. This contrasted greatly with another Astartes I had become acquainted with recently, as Word Bear smiled nearly constantly in a way that somehow managed to be threatening.

I took a deep breath, and decided again not to remind people that I was actually planning on leaving through Molech's Warp Gate. I'd worry about that when I got there, I thought, now beginning to feel somewhat guilty.

As we all stood around, I heard the sound of buzzing metal wings as the metal mantis drone Jiminy fluttered into the parlor, and perched upon my shoulder. "Greetings. It appears that there is no direct communication screen in the parlor, or I cannot find one. Inheritor, I am pleased to announce that Horse of a Different Color is free of taint. Not only that, its machine spirit is a lively, excitable one. I have offered this vivacious machine blessings, and done the necessary consecrations in order to welcome it to us. I am now designing an appropriate charging line, as it is completely drained of power. Permission to construct such a thing from the living gold of the Divine Retribution?"

"I don't want to keep taking too much gold from the hull, Null, but okay. Take only what you absolutely need, and set her up. How long before a complete charge?"

"Not long. Ninety minutes, I estimate. It also has some minor damage to its engines, which I will also be repairing. It appears that when this flyer was last flown that it either ran something over or scraped above something while in flight."

"Langwidere's soldiers," Zok laughed darkly.

"Mmm," the drone squeaked an acknowledgement. "Repairs will be completed in and the charge filled within two hours. It is now 16:23 local Ixian time, and sunset will be upon us within a few hours. What do you command of us now, Inheritor?"

I thought for a moment. "I'm kind of enjoying not needing to run around right now, so how about we just sit around the ship until tomorrow morning, and then go to Jinnicky's tower then using the Horse of a Different Color? We'll all eat dinner at around, say 7pm and just relax?"

"We are at your command," Jiminy responded with a wave of his claw. "See you all at dinner."

After dismissing my crew, I headed back to my suite to relax. I was also feeling slightly dizzy (and experiencing body horror) after my little psychic adventure in being over three meters tall again. Was that really what it was? Just a psychic glamour? It honestly felt completely physical. Being huge like that wasn't sustainable unless I was extremely angry, on lots of drugs, or both. I concluded that I probably had to consume a lot more souls to be able to become swole with more regularity.

Dinner was yet another perfect meal of some kind of vegetable noodle dish with protein cakes. Zok was hitting every single meal out of the park, and I was happy to have him on board.

After our more relaxed dinner, I walked back down to Null's workshop. Initially, I had planned on bringing Ennoia and Morai with me, but just in case this conversation with Null drifted into Kelbor-Hal territory, I decided to meet with Null alone. I was curious about the Mural of Inheritors, and now that Null and I both knew the Nubuan language, I was interested to see what the writing below each ruler on the Mural of Inheritors detailed.

"Ah, there you are," the Tech-priest spoke as I stepped into his workshop. He was fussing with a small metal machine that looked like a radio, plugging it into the wall of the Divine Retribution beside the large wall display in this room. I wasn't sure Null had been able to figure out how to properly wire his machines in order to have them work with the ancient Divine Retribution, but he was a genius, so I shrugged and let it go. "I have this set up to display onto the screen here. I'm glad I recorded the mural!"

The quiet beeping of the Skitarii's heart monitor was audible in the background as I pulled a chair up to sit before the display. Null also dragged a chair over to sit beside me. "How's Rahm doing, Null?"

"Quite well, actually," Null replied. "His new heart of living gold is working well with his new vascular system. He will need a little bit of calibration and physical therapy when he wakes in a day, but he will live. I will remind him further on your identity and the chain of command, and he will praise you in thanks for allowing him to exist further."

I scratched the back of my neck, and a small swath of loose skin fell off under my fingernails. "Don't- Don't sweat it too much," I instructed, both enjoying this deference and feeling uncomfortable by it. "So, when we were in the parlor earlier, Ennoia told us that the Emperor had a psychic glamour that changed how he was perceived according to each individual. What did you experience?"

Null took a deep breath before standing up from his chair and walking behind me. He closed the door to this room before speaking in a quiet voice. "I have been scouring my memories of the Omnissiah when he walked the galaxy, trying to recall his precise appearance. I don't know if these memories were selectively deleted, or if it is simply in his nature to not have his physical form be remembered with accuracy. I... I think I remember a great giant wreathed in energy. But, I also hold memories of a man of flesh and blood only about your height. My memories may be flawed, incomplete. And it has been said that he has an illusory glamour? Individuals perceive him differently?"

"That's what Ennoia said about Inheritors, I think so," I replied. "And, I didn't know this, but I think I have some kind of weird glamour now too, but I'm not consciously controlling it. Different crewmembers, they're all seeing me differently," I replied, somewhat unnerved. "What do you see when you look at me?" I asked.

Null wore a thoughtful expression, and then, turned toward me. He studied me deeply for a few long moments before proclaiming, "A psyker woman. 1.83 meters in height. 78 kilograms approximate weight. Fair skin, hair is braided into two braids. Two colors, roughly divided. One side of hair, black, another white. Crown of gold laurels resting behind ears. Eyes, slightly luminous gold. Slight halo around head, shoulders, and neck. Neck possesses a strangulation ligature. Skin flaking from as if from a radiant burn." Null then squinted, and looked further. "Your features are shifting, I believe you already know. More defined cheekbones, arch to the brow, very slight deviance from human standard." The Tech-priest continued studying me with a critical eye. "I wish I could remember the appearance of the Omnissiah's previous avatar. I do remember a laurel wreath, at least."

"Have I appeared any differently than how you're seeing me right now?" I asked, curious.

Null began to shake his head, but then he abruptly paused before speaking again. "I beheld a vision at the brink of my death after Nubua." the Tech-priest began slowly. "You were a gold angel of metal when you came to save me from the malign intelligence that attempted to consume me. You floated on wings of living gold, and your light caused all corruption to flee. You were a... holy machine." Null looked away as he said this. "You... you saved me. I was not worthy of saving, it turns out." The Tech-priest coughed a laugh.

I didn't know how to respond to this, as I didn't feel like reassuring him after hearing about his newly recovered identity. At the very least, I hoped that Null's new memories were somehow artificial, and that Null wasn't actually Kelbor-Hal. Thinking about this, the mood in the workshop became tense, so I just said, "Hey, let's see what you recorded on Nubua. We know their names now?"

"Not specifically names. More like titles," Null explained as he held a small rectangular device that looked like a television remote in one of his metal hands, and positioned himself to look forward toward the wall display. With a tap of one of his metal fingers, the image of the first Inheritor appeared. This slide appeared to be two Inheritors occupying the same space. One was a strong, well-muscled man in rough robes standing above a young boy wearing animal skins. Was this going to be a slide show? "Each of your kin have titles given to them by unknown parties. But, they seem to be somewhat descriptive and apt for each Inheritor. These two, I think, might be the same Inheritor, as they occupy the same frame, and have only one title. This one is most aptly named, 'The Alpha'. The cuneiform can be seen here." Null gestured to a line of scored marks below the painted image.

"That's Neoth. He was an ancient warlord from Anatolia," I offered, remembering what Sebastian told me. "When I was possessed on the bridge a few days ago, I was told many things. Neoth was the first Emperor, and the first Perpetual. Sebastian told me that all Perpetuals come from this man."

"Ah, I was informed of the miracle of your possession by Virgil. I heard that you were also completely blinded as well! You were essentially sanctioned by holy light, but due to your interesting nature, you managed to recover." Null elaborated. "This writing below the image says: 'The mighty king of humanity's cradle. The first, the creator."

"Poetic," I observed, idly scratching my flaking skin. Like before, the new skin being revealed was very smooth. "Okay, let's see the next one. I think there's only one other woman, if I remember correctly."

"Correct," Null answered, clicking a button on his remote and advancing the slide. Before us was now a wild man wearing dirty furs. This Inheritor was hunched over, and his bearded face was painted with sorrow as he clutched the gold thread that flowed between through Inheritor's portrait in filthy fingers. This gold thread, I remembered, flowed through each painting in a sort of continuity, linking every Inheritor together. Null pointed ahead. "This wretched man is named 'Ragged Son'. The writing below states as follows: 'The reluctant son of war and conquest. The wandering mystic of temperance.'"

"You know I can read this now too," I informed Null with a smile. "Nabopolassar's death gave me knowledge of his language."

"Truly?" Null turned to me with wide eyes. "You can glean knowledge from souls, and not simply consume them?"

"Yeah," I replied. "But, not all the time, I don't think. I think there has to be a 'willing sacrifice' component to it. I don't know how it works, really."

"Hmm," the Tech-priest hummed thoughtfully. "I do remember the Omnissiah's avatar held vast amounts of knowledge of the arts of science and warfare. One begins to wonder if he, in his distant past, became learned in this fashion because of consumption, and not conventional learning?"

This certainly had a dark implication, I thought with a lurch in my stomach. "I really haven't learned much from anyone else that I've eaten," I added with an uncomfortable shrug. "But, I'll let you know if someone kills themselves for me again if I suddenly become smarter."

Null did not respond to my words, and advanced the slide show.

The next image was that of the lone woman (aside from myself) depicted in the paintings within the Nubuan pyramid museum. She was a tall smiling woman in colorful silk robes over tanned skin, and she had black hair that was styled in long braids that fell to her waist. Wearing her Key close to her neck in the style of a choker, she held its gold chain around two of her raised fingers.

"War Queen," I read the cuneiform writing below the image aloud. "The goddess of love, beauty, and war. The whisper in the dream."

"Many of these titles are quite apocryphal, I must say," Null tutted. "I was curious as to why there was only one woman depicted in the mural aside from yourself, and I find myself asking even more questions!"

"Yeah, I'm wondering that too," I thought aloud. "I mean, it doesn't really look like sexism is a thing in this universe. Are women treated like they're lesser than men in the Imperium?"

"All humankind is equally capable of dying for the light of truth," Null responded to me with a flustered tone, as if what I had asked was absolutely absurd. "All humanity must labor for the Omnissiah's dream, not just the male population."

The slide advanced, and now, we were observing a man dressed in what appeared to be ancient Egyptian garb. This Inheritor wore an elaborate blue and gold headdress reminiscent of a pharaoh's, and he was clad in long white robes. He stood in a stiff, formal pose as he held his Key with an introspective expression, and his gold eyes were lined with what appeared to be kohl.

"Dawn Herald. Champion of the sun, defender of humankind, explorer of the skies," Null spoke aloud. "I must say, the sight of the Divine Retribution flying through Terra's ancient skies must have been awe-inspiring. At this point of history, technology appears nonexistent, and to possess such a famed piece of holy archeotech must have inspired the hearts of ancient peoples to an incredible degree."

"Seriously," I observed with a smile. Wow, what sort of anime historical past did this universe have if an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh had the Divine Retribution? I didn't immediately remember any evidence of giant gold mechanical eagle ships illustrated in hieroglyphs in my own past. I then remembered the Divine Retribution possessed a fate-bending aura that prevented reliable records of its existence from being kept.

Another click, and the slide changed again.

The next Inheritor was a lithe young man with shoulder length dark hair, the usual gold eyes, and unusually pale, almost bluish skin. This Inheritor was positioned in a dynamic pose, almost as if he was dancing. He wore brightly colored silks and gold jewelry on his lean body, and one hand, he held a shining silver sword. The name of this Inheritor was apt.

The cuneiform said: Dancing King. Master warrior against the nightmares that came. The king of the eternal dance.

Observing this man critically, I was again reminded of depictions of Hindu gods. This man, in particular, had a very powerful air about him, despite his playful dancing pose. Dancing King was probably an incredible swordsman, I noted as I observed his sharp silver blade.

"How strange civilization once was," Null huffed as he observed this Inheritor. I could tell that the Tech-priest was not impressed with Dancing King's colorful attire and happy smile, and he advanced the slide with an irritated click.

Before us now stood an image of another Egyptian pharaoh, and this one was very much like the earlier Inheritor we had seen. He was very tall, very thin, and wore stately white robes with a collar of what appeared to be gold and lapis lazuli. His expression was very serious, and he, like Dawn Herald, held his round Key pendant in a contemplative manner as if pondering his status. This Inheritor's features were somewhat aquiline, and he was shaved bald. Not only was my Warhammer 40k lore knowledge lacking, but so was my Egyptology, as a distant part of me almost recognized who this man was, but I could not place a name.

"Storm Voice. The just and the fair, the arbiter of righteousness. The voice of the storm that soothes the drought," Null spoke aloud. "He appears to be a diplomat, while Dancing King was more of a carefree warrior. I wish we had dates for each of these individuals."

The Tech-priest advanced the slide, and now, we were observing a strong man in sculpted Ancient Roman or Greek styled armor atop a rearing horse. The writing below the painting said: Sword Rule. The great conqueror, the master of horses and nightmares.

This Inheritor, I noted, had slightly different features than the others, and had more tanned olive-toned skin and dark shaggy hair. He, like the pale Dancing King, didn't appear to be "related" to the rest of the pictured Inheritors. In one hand, he held a sharp sword above his head in a triumphant pose. Between this Inheritor's ethnicity and the design of his armor, I was able to make a deduction on this man's identity.

"Oh, that's probably Alexander the Great!" I vociferated, happy that I had been able to possibly recognize someone.

"Who?" Null asked.

"Someone from my universe's ancient past," I elaborated. "A powerful warrior king who conquered large portions of the ancient world."

The Tech-priest lightly shook his head, and a sadness began to shine from him. "Even with my oldest memories, I hold very little knowledge of Terra's ancient past. From what I remember, our histories have been poorly recorded. It is a shame. Maybe another time you can enlighten us on your reality's past? If it is indeed the same or at least similar to ours, perhaps it would be enriching?"

I yawned. "Well, that will have to wait for another day. Let's just get through these slides."

The slide advanced, and now, we were looking at another very bedraggled man in dirty robes who sat upon a boulder in a desert landscape. This Inheritor was bearded, long-haired, and was so thin that he appeared nearly starved. The guy almost looked like a historical depiction of Jesus, which I sincerely hoped wasn't true. Also incredibly upsetting was that this man's portion of the gold thread was actually wrapped around his damn neck, and I found myself momentarily triggered as I clasped at my own dream-damaged neck.

Sin Eater. Absolver of stains. The first of the summoned souls from beyond the boundaries.

Null noticed me clutching my wounded neck. "In your dream, how did you get that mark, if I can ask?"

I dropped my hand. "From a gold thread, that's all I'll say."

The Tech-priest did not push the issue, and continued advancing the slides.

The next Inheritor was a very unremarkable middle-aged and partially bald man in modest dark robes that resembled a English monk's. Aside from his gold eyes, he was extremely average, and he held an unmarked book in his hands as he pointed toward the sky. Above, and in the clouds, the Inheritor was indicating toward an amassment of what appeared to be mythological devils with horns, barbed tails, and sharp-toothed smiles. These were probably supposed to be daemons, I concluded.

God Dreamer. The prophet of revelations yet to pass. The wisdom in the rain.

"These must be daemons, I believe," Null indicated toward the mass of evil shapes in the sky. "Interesting to see such monsters manifesting on Terra early in its history. I suppose Chaos has always been a problem for humankind."

"Maybe it's just metaphorical. I don't think my universe's past had literal daemons running around." I added.

Null took a cautious moment before responding. "I say this with respect, but it could be that such things existed, but like the Imperium, you, as an average citizen, were kept in the dark for your own safety. Most of the Imperium's population does not actually possess knowledge of Chaos for this reason. We have been taught that as long as the Omnissiah exists that the evils of Chaos have also existed to war against the side of the righteous."

This was somewhat upsetting to think about. Alberich had told me that he had worked as a Nazi psychic researcher, and that other nations had their own metaphysical government programs. Maybe my reality really did have daemons. Was that what America was keeping locked up in Area 51? I decided that thinking further on this subject wouldn't be too good for my mental health at the present, so I let it go and watched as Null advanced the slide again.

This next Inheritor was a man wearing loose trousers and a tunic of colorful, but very dark fabric. His features were covered by a black mask below his gold eyes, and on his head, he wore what appeared to be a black turban. This man's Key burned very hotly on his chest, and in his hands, he held two familiar silver swords in each hand.

"Dire Wolf. The hunter of the dark. The shadow of vengeance," I read aloud. "These swords are familiar. I think Spoiled Prince also wields them. Whenever I see him in visions, he has two long silver swords."

"Ah, I remember!" the Tech-priest spoke with excitement. "When we met with Nabopolassar, he recognized your Nemeses Argentum as being used by both Dire Wolf and Dancing King! This is indeed further confirmation of the holy nature of your blades. And, this is a representation of what they will eventually look like!"

"Oh, yeah! I remember now. That feels like it was a long time ago!" I replied with excitement. I then reached into my trouser pocket, and retrieved the Nemeses Argentum. Carrying these scissors around everywhere had become a habit, but soon, I'd need to get a more appropriate scabbard for their use. While I had a scabbard for Evanora's diamond dagger, the Nemeses Argentum was now too big to be held in either a scabbard or even a deep pocket. I turned the silver blades around in my hand, and with a small mental nudge, willed the blue fire to ignite at its tip, which caused Null to gasp with wonder. "I wonder how many more souls I have to consume before these scissors transform into two blades, anyway? Not like I know how to use swords, but still."

Null speechlessly observed me as I swiped at the air before him with my blue-flaming scissors. "Yeah, I can set this on fire now," I responded quickly.

I telekinetically levitated the scissors, and glided them in midair over to where Null sat, who cringed away from the holy artifact. Seeing this, my mood dropped, and a nasty impulse then pushed through me as I was again reminded at what side Null had fought for during the Horus Heresy. "This artifact has already destroyed daemons, including that one ascending champion, Grikk'ahn. I wonder if it can do the same to evil souls? Speaking of that, back in your old life, do you have any memories of the Emperor's sword?"

The Tech-priest did not respond as the Nemeses Argentum hung less than an arm's length from his face, its flickering point angled at one of Null's animated eyes. Anxiety now began to echo from Null's soul as he nervously studied the artifact hovering threateningly before him. "U-unfortunately, I hold very little reliable memories of being in physical proximity to the Omnissiah's avatar. I do, however, remember that he held a massive sword of holy fire. I'm admittedly uncertain-"

With a motion of my hand, I caused the blue fire that surrounded the end of the scissor blades to brighten, which caused Null to tremble. Maybe a little intimidation was good for my crew? A good captain should be at least slightly feared to be respected, right? Considering this guy's past as a fascist Martian Mussolini, I probably needed to slightly terrorize him to keep him loyal. An intuition within me agreed with this judgement. The Emperor didn't get to where he got by being a nice guy, even if Sebastian had originally been one.

Null continued to speak in a shaking voice while I continued to point the tip of the Nemeses Argentum at his left eye. "I- I apologize for my uncertainty, but I do not remember if his sword was a mechanized artifact like a power sword, or if it was a simple blade that held vast amounts of Warp potency within its blessed metal."

"Okay," I replied as I summoned the Nemeses Argentum back to my hand. Its fire winked out. Null slouched in relief. "I was just curious. Let's keep checking out the slides."

The next image was a dramatic one. This was the Inheritor that stood before a skyline of New York City that was in the process of being obliterated by nuclear weapons Terminator 2 style. This slide was particularly upsetting, and this man was wearing eerily accurate clothing for a man from my time. He wore a casual jacket over a t-shirt along with a pair of jeans and Converse sneakers. This man's eyes were closed, and tears flowed down his cheeks. He was a younger guy, only about his early twenties, and was of the same ethnicity as many of the other Inheritors.

Fire Born. The historian of enlightenment. The rising flame. The common son.

Null had nothing to say after my brief intimidation, and the slide advanced again.

This next man appeared to be wearing the black robes of a judge, but I couldn't be sure. He, like nearly every other Inheritor, was gold-eyed and had dark hair. This individual's short black hair had wisps of white, and his face was stoic and harsh. He held two fingers up in a gesture of proclamation toward the sky. Behind him, shapes of classic grey aliens and other unusual figures stood watching over him in a strange scene. What sort of weird UFO X-Files alien court was this, I wondered with a laugh.

"Indelible Law. The bridge between eons. Lawmaker and justice of the space between worlds," I read aloud. Null remained quiet.

As we went along, I began to wonder what happened to these people. Assuming Sebastian was correct in what he had told me, these individuals were Perpetuals, and were probably very difficult to kill. Even Sebastian was still alive in a sense after all that had happened to him.

The next Inheritor I now looked upon was another ethnic outlier. He was a man with black skin, and long dreadlocks. He wore a silver space suit as he stood outside in what appeared to be the landscape of Mars. This Inheritor's dark features made his gold eyes especially striking, and he wore a proud expression as he looked off into the distance.

"Temperance Wisdom. The leader of the proletariat. The mender of the sundered," Null spoke. I could tell that the Tech-priest was still radiating anxiety, and so, he was now much less talkative. But, for this Inheritor, he had decided to speak up. "Two Inheritors seem to be based on Mars, this one being the first. I- I was quite amazed when I saw the name of the next one."

The slide changed, and now we observed a tall bald man in a sumptuous red robe standing in what appeared to be a library or a study. He was smiling, and the entire left side of this Inheritor's body was mechanical, but aside from that, this Tech-priest adjacent man lacked multiple arms and any extraneous mechadendrites. I remembered seeing just how thrilled Null had been to see this particular man when we first saw these images in the Nubuan pyramid.

"Red Voice. Omnissiah of the blessed machine. Leader of the Martian spirit," Null breathed in awe. "It even says 'Omnissiah' specifically!"

"Oh wow. So that guy is the Omnissiah?" I asked.

"Well, er-" Null stammered, glancing at me nervously. "Perhaps he appeared to be the first to hold the title of such a thing. O-of c-course you currently hold that title, yes. I hold no others above you, of c-course." The Tech-priest was stumbling over his words.

While I felt slightly guilty for terrorizing both Alberich and now Null today, I rationalized my behavior once again by reminding myself that without fear of me, my crew would end up doing things like worshipping Tzeentch behind my back, or stealing unauthorized treasures from Necron tombs that end up being fucking C'tan shards. No more bullshit on this ship, I thought, straightening my back.

The next slide depicted an Inheritor who was somewhat of a physical outlier. This man was one of the few individuals who had stark white hair, which stood up from his head in a sort of messy mad scientist mop. This hairstyle was fitting, as this Inheritor wore a grey lab coat and heavy black gloves as he stood within what appeared to be a laboratory over a collection of glass vials filled with colorful liquids. Behind this man, a handful of strange, very slender figures wearing black bodysuits stood watchfully over the scene. Each of these beings had unusual copper-gold skin, dark hair, and jewel-like almond eyes.

Gold Hand. Master of the primal key of human sciences. Victor over famine and war.

"Do you know anything about what these gold people are?" I asked Null before the slide advanced.

"Not really, I'm afraid," Null stated. "In Mars there exists fragments of knowledge here and there concerning our ancient past. The most I know is that in the distant past there existed genetically constructed beings called the 'Men of Gold', and the 'Men of Stone'. What we may be looking at presently is the gene father of the Men of Gold, but without more information, I cannot offer confirmation. It is a pity that so much has been lost."

"We should pull the Blank sisters aside sometime and talk to them. Maybe they would know?"

"Instruct it so and I will arrange it, Inheritor," Null replied to me with a bow of his head, his soul still trembling with intimidation.

The next slide illustrated a very heroic figure. This Inheritor stood before the viewer with his arms outstretched in a magnanimous gesture of triumph. Behind him, a depiction of what appeared to be void ships blazed through the stars. This man was quite handsome, his messy dark hair falling to his jaw almost like a male supermodel. A gold laurel crown accentuated his gold eyes and pleasant chiseled features. He wore a dark tunic in the style of a martial artist, making him almost look like a Star Wars Jedi hero.

Light Bringer. Guide of the stars, innovator of the great vessels of the void.

"This guy looks really cool," I remarked. "I guess this is humanity's high point. Supermodel Emperor and space travel."

Null looked at me with confusion, but was not brave enough to question what I had said. I decided to explain myself. "Oh, the term 'cool' just means 'stylish and good' where I'm from. It doesn't mean cold. And when I say supermodel, I mean that this Inheritor is handsome," I offered.

As we continued onward and into what I assumed were the Inheritors of the Dark Age of Technology, the next few slides continued to become more removed from contextual familiarity. The next Inheritor was a powerfully built man with a crown of gold laurels fixed in his very long black hair. Wearing loose robes of crimson and gold, he sat upon a red cushion in a meditative pose. Behind him, a vast mural of the Milky Way galaxy filled the scene. This Inheritor had a very powerful air.

Mind Singer. Master of the world between worlds, and the sight beyond sight. Seer of the sleeping dream of humanity.

"I get the feeling that this one was a very powerful psyker," I observed. A peculiar intuition then came over me. "And, I'm also getting the feeling that as we go along, the Inheritors are gradually getting stronger. Not sure if it's entirely linear, but I'm pretty sure that if you put Mind Singer in the past to fight Storm Voice that Mind Singer could fry Storm Voice in three seconds."

"So it is a progression of strength over time," Null mused. "As humankind grows in power, so does its shepherds. Interesting."

The next Inheritor was another scientist similar to that of Gold Hand. Like Gold Hand, this Inheritor wore another long grey lab coat with dark gloves, and he stood in what appeared to be some kind of scientific laboratory. His space was crowded, and featured more vials, beakers, and strange machines than the earlier Inheritor scientist we had seen. This Inheritor had short black hair, a serious contemplative expression, and a crown of gold laurels that appeared very out of place in this scientific space. Behind him, like Gold Hand, strange human-adjacent gold-skinned figures stood nearby, observing his work. Another unusual not-quite-human slender figure with light grey skin watched the scene beside him. Two more of these grey-skinned beings kneeled before the Inheritor in what appeared to be praise.

Stone Hand. Perfecter of the constructed. Gene-master of humanity's construction.

"And, the next one is also a scientist," Null offered. "Interesting to see the devotion to technology increase with the evolution of humankind, even if the next man is... somewhat menacing."

Null describing the next Inheritor as menacing didn't even begin to cover just how "evil" this Inheritor appeared. As the slide progressed, we now observed an image of what seemed to be a supervillain. This man was bald, and his features were dour, almost twisted into a resentful sneer. Instead of a lab coat, he wore a trim black bodysuit as he stood before a table filled with what appeared to be bits of machinery. Robots made up of dark metal stood nearby. They loomed over the scene like vultures, their glowing red eyes watchful and emotionless. Squinting, I was able to then recognize that while this Inheritor was bald, his eyebrows were white. Presumably, if this Inheritor had been able to grow hair, his hair would have been white. Like the men before him, this individual wore a wreath of gold laurels behind his ears, but because of this his dark aura, the laurel crown seemed very out of place atop his head.

Null spoke this Inheritor's identity aloud with a quaking voice. "Iron Will. Father of the silver plague. The limitless destructive power of mankind's potential."

"It's funny," I began. "With most of these Inheritors, their descriptions are somewhat neutral or hint at positive acts that each person was responsible for. With this guy, his description is actually negative. I wonder if Iron Will created the Men of Iron?"

Null nodded. "Yes. From his unflattering painting to his description, I believe we look upon a wicked individual. While I do not have a frame of reference concerning historical dates of when each Inheritor served, it appears to me that Iron Will ruled earlier than I had presumed the Men of Iron to be active, which means the abominable intelligence clothed in the machine plagued our galaxy for longer than previously postulated."

The Tech-priest advanced the slide, and now, I stood before an unsettling and familiar Inheritor. Spoiled Prince lay recumbent on a small pile of silk pillows in a luxuriant pose. He pointed upward toward the mass of Chaotic flesh that hovered in the sky. This painting, I was reminded again, appeared to greatly resemble "Creation of Adam" located in the Sistine Chapel, and seeing it depicted in this way almost felt blasphemous. Where the painted image of God should have been, Tzeentch's humanoid form was rendered in a flying mass of tentacles, teeth, and claws reaching out to touch Spoiled Prince's outstretched hand.

Spoiled Prince wore sumptuous embroidered silk robes detailed with jewels. He was, by far, the wealthiest Inheritor depicted in this entire mural. His skin was lightly tanned, and his long white hair hung like perfect snow over his shoulders. Behind this Inheritor, more symbols of wealth and opulence were depicted. Futuristic skyscrapers, luxuriously crafted void ships, and stylish small flying spacecrafts were painted soaring through the air. Beneath the cushions he lounged upon, I also noticed two long silver swords that I had missed before when I had first viewed this painting in the Nubuan pyramid. On his head, Spoiled Prince wore a crown of heavy jewels instead of gold laurels, and now, I understood that this symbol of office wasn't simply for vanity, but likely some kind of protective measure for the Inheritor's free will. I knew now that this man had actively bucked against the Divine Retribution's Imperative, and perhaps, had succeeded in protecting himself.

But, seeing that I now held the Key, I supposed that in the end, his protective measures probably didn't help him, and I wondered how this Inheritor met his fate. A curious thought rose again within me. If these men (and one woman) were all Perpetuals, maybe they weren't actually all dead? Was there a way to divorce yourself from the Divine Retribution's mental corruption?

I remembered somehow getting the sense when I had been Emperor-possessed that Sebastian had, at some point, willingly removed the Key before burying the Divine Retribution on Levant, but I wasn't sure that simply taking the Key off would remove your connection to the big God bird. The more I delved into this new historical lore, the more I discovered I had to learn.

Null's voice startled me away from my contemplation. "Spoiled Prince. The pale lord of prosperity. The diamond-soul king."

"Diamond-soul," I whispered, observing the large central diamond of Spoiled Prince's crown. "The more I think of it, the more I think that this guy had a spirit stone."

"I have some information concerning that, Inheritor. If you wish, I can elaborate on what I discovered in my memories," Null explained.

"Let's just get through these slides, alright," I said with a nod.

The next image depicted the eerie ceiling mural that had been painted over the room that had encompassed the Heart of Worlds. This slide depicted a very sad Sebastian in a plain dark outfit. He appeared like many of the Inheritors we had seen, and had lightly tanned fair skin, long black hair, and gold eyes. His expression was poignantly somber, and he almost appeared consumed with shame. This now made sense, considering what my predecessor had done to the Heart of Worlds, which had cursed an entire stellar empire to undeath.

Below this painting, a familiar name was written. Weeping King. Sacrificial protector against the encroaching dusk. The great crusader.

"The great crusader," I chuckled briefly as Null clicked the slide forward.

The next slide depicted me, and I felt my heart drop again at witnessing this. I wore a similarly nondescript dark outfit, and my black and white streaked hair floated behind me as if in water. A gas mask and goggles hung from my neck, and in my hand, I held the Nemeses Argentum. I was depicted using it to snip the gold cord that had originated from the very beginning of the mural. My expression was somewhat dark and cold, I now noticed.

The Omega. The last, the destroyer.

"That's it? The destroyer?" I gaped in surprise. "There wasn't any more written anywhere else? Just this?'" I asked, turning to Null, who nodded gravely. This gave me a sense of dread. And, the gold thread had traveled through thousands of years of Inheritor history only to end at me? Would I fuck up that badly? Did this mean that I was forecasted to eventually fall to Chaos, I thought with loathing. Tzeentch had been leaning heavily into me, even when I had told him to pound sand. I didn't want the end of my story end with me getting involuntarily Angron-ed into one of his daemon princes! "Shit," I said with a sigh.

"Indeed," Null replied nervously. "There could have been another area of the pyramid that we did not witness, or perhaps there was another Mural of Inheritors in a different pyramid. Maybe... maybe the ancient painters simply ran out of wallspace?" the Tech-priest offered tensely.

"No idea," I said simply. I didn't like the implication of being the last Inheritor in the entire line of heroic figures, and the one that was depicted cutting the important gold cord that was depicted passing through the entire mural. So far, I had done a lot of damage in my short time in the galaxy, as each world I trod upon soon faced disaster. Even Rhadabus, the world that I had only visited in a projection, was undergoing violent upheaval. I prayed that that world wouldn't see any more trouble because of my visit... "So," I mumbled, trying to redirect my attention away from my weighted sense of foreboding. I scratched the back of my sore neck. "What about that spirit stone tech you know about?"

Null perked up, and his animated green eyes "smiled" with relief at hearing me change the subject. "I do not know much at the present time, so again, I may have more knowledge that I can share with you should I unlock more of my memories. What I do know is that there is one Primarch that was rumored to own an unusual diamond. Are you knowledgeable of the traitor Primarch Konrad Curze?"

I nodded. "I know bits and pieces of Primarch lore, yeah. Konrad was basically a giant psychopath that ran around with his equally dark legion murdering and terrorizing people. Terror tactics in combat, from what I remember."

"Did your universe record knowledge of his crown, the Corona Nox?"

I shook my head. "He wore a crown? Like Spoiled Prince?"

"Yes. This is somewhat privileged information in the Imperium, but the Night Haunter often wore a gemstone crown similar to that which Spoiled Prince wears. It was rumored by many that the central diamond in the Primarch's crown contained a spirit stone."

"Is it the same one, do you think?" I asked.

"I'm uncertain on this," the Tech-priest answered. "I do know that it was rumored to calm the Night Haunter's rages and violent emotive outbursts, so he wore it often when interacting with his sons." Null tapped one of his mechadendrites against the table before him as he searched his memories. "But, the Night Haunter's crown, from what I remember, is not entirely similar to Spoiled Prince's crown. Corona Nox had a darker obsidian frame than the bright silver metal of the ancient Inheritor's crown, but perhaps this artifact held its own glamour, and its wearer could choose how it appears."

"Would you happen to know where this crown might be?" I asked, already knowing that it was probably either lost or hidden away in a very secure vault somewhere.

Null shook his head. "No. The artifact was lost soon after the Primarch's death, bequeathed to a traitor son. It has been speculated that the Night Haunter's soul might now be contained within the Corona Nox, so even if we do find such an artifact, we would have to contend with the soul residing within the theoretical spirit stone before using it, either through exorcism, or by having you consume it."

"I could eat a Primarch?" I snorted a morbid laugh. That would certainly be some fun trouble that would definitely not blow up in my face. The prospect of having to either exorcise or consume Konrad fucking Curze's soul to use his crown did not sound easy. I sincerely hoped that there was a second crown out there. However, I then began to wonder if Spoiled Prince was also currently inside his spirit stone. The spirit of an Inheritor would probably be even more difficult to contend with than the Night Haunter's soul. Of course, nothing can be easy, I thought, gritting my teeth.

"It would be your choice, of course," Null answered quickly. "But, like I stated, I have no knowledge whatsoever on where the Corona Nox would be, and the galaxy is a big place. It was last known to be in the possession of the Night Lords traitor legion at the time of their Primarch's death ten thousand years ago, and I do not recommend visiting any of those madmen."

"Yeah, no. Visiting Night Lords is a bad idea," I said with resignation, frustrated. There had to be a way to retain my free will, I thought angrily. If I didn't find a way to preserve myself, I was at risk for having my identity completely corrupted by the Divine Retribution.

The rest of the somewhat awkward meeting with an anxious Null was unremarkable, and I informed him that I'd like to visit Magos Jinnicky's tower sooner rather than later considering all the looming threats that were now hanging over us on this feral world. The Tech-priest was at least very happy with the acquisition of the Horse of a Different Color, and spoke glowingly on what a beautiful piece of machinery she was. Null happily reminded me that Rahm, the injured Skitarii, could pilot the flyer when he recovers, completely disregarding that Zok had already claimed the car as its driver. The Tech-priest also asked for permission to modify the flyer to allow for increased weight capacity, and stronger void shields in case of trouble. I allowed this, and soon, Null was scurrying away from his own workshop to visit the hold. Fear still moved through the Tech-priest's soul, and I could tell that this meeting with him had not been easy.

I was now alone in Null's workshop. In his haste to run off, the Tech-priest had neglected to turn off the wall display. It still displayed the slide that held my Nubuan mural portrait. I stood up, and walked ahead, observing the representation of myself with ice in my heart.

The writing below my portrait was easily readable. "The destroyer," I whispered, clutching my neck nervously. In an unwelcome flashback, I was reminded of Raula White's words right before I had broken her neck and devoured her soul. Unfortunately, with my growing strength, my recall was also improving, and I discovered that I could now remember every one of her last words before I had violently dispatched her...

"How does it feel to be just like your predecessor, stupid girl?" the cult leader had choked defiantly. "You are a destructive, arrogant monster dressed in a gold human costume who destroys everything that they touch, one that will never listen to reason or nuance, and one that will never show any mercy!"

My eyes began to wet, and recalling what the witch had said, I began to tremble.

"No doubt, you will become another force of violent subjugation as you delude yourself that you are helping the human race. But, instead of aiding in the glorious rebirth of mankind, you are destined to only leave ashes and ruin in your murderous wake. Why, the whispers of the Warp tell me that the worlds you have visited so far have all died! Is that true, Anathema?"

I sat back down on one of the workshop chairs, suddenly woozy. I closed my eyes. Guiltily, I remembered just how incredible it had felt to break the neck of someone I perceived to be a "traitor to mankind". It was a rush like no other to watch the witch struggle under my iron grip and to watch the light fade from her eyes. And, my glee at causing death wasn't just directed at that cult leader. It had felt fucking great to blind the Navigator Ven Tristan after he had tried to kill me in revenge for destroying the Ebon Hare. My mood had been that of transcendent excitement when I had thrown apocalyptic tongues of flame and force into the Valkyrie transport vehicles over Port Aubergine, killing and devouring their occupants like some kind of fiendish Warp predator. I even had begun to notice just how wonderful it felt to subjugate my crew here! I could now somehow feel and taste their deference and fear with my burgeoning strength, and it was better than any whiskey back home!

And, to my shame, I absolutely loved it! Destroying things and literally murdering people that opposed me was now fun! I had even caught myself daydreaming on how amazing it would feel to go on my own Great Crusade across the galaxy with my own legions of warriors so I could relish in the destruction of those who would harm humankind. And, with the race of humanity currently under threat, there were many, many enemies I could potentially destroy...

What was I becoming?!

As I thought that, I flashed back to the dream I had last night where I stood in gold armor before thousands of assembled Astartes, promising victory in an unknown military campaign. Loathsome unwelcome excitement from this memory arced through me!

I couldn't let this progressive corruption continue! I didn't want to enjoy killing anyone or destroying anything! Killing and making people afraid of me isn't supposed to be "fun" like this! This wasn't me; this was supernatural sadism, and I had to control myself!

At these thoughts, my gold eyes and Corona burned with a harsh brilliance, and heavy tears began to spill from my eyes in a river of existential horror. The Divine Retribution had done so much damage to me already.

If this kept up, there wouldn't be anything left of my original personality by the time I got to Molech...