Khaine's abilities were straightforward, Satoru noted. Two concepts ruled the Aeldari God's power: fire and murder. This intrigued him, as he'd never encountered anything quite like it before. He was confident that not even Ryomen Sukuna knew about it. Khaine's Cursed Energy had two faces – not just opposite aspects brought forth by Neutral and Positive Cursed Energy, but quite literally two distinct pools of Cursed Energy. One pool created the fire that now coated Satoru's arm and sword. The other, the aspect of murder, allowed Khaine to feed on violence and war itself, increasing his overall Cursed Energy output and reserves with more exposure to conflict. This boost extended to Satoru's own Innate Techniques and personal output and reserves.
Now, he had three sources of power: Khaine's Fire, Khaine's Thirst for Murder, and his own Limitless. And holy shit, that was a lot. This didn't even include the constant boost he received from the Aeldari, who began worshiping him as the Britheim. Satoru was certain that no one in Jujutsu history had anything remotely similar to what he now possessed. Kenjaku, the brain with a knack for copying Innate Techniques from possessed bodies, came close but was still limited to a single pool of Cursed Energy. Not quite the same.
The strangest thing, Satoru noted, was the increased control over Cursed Energy that came with Khaine's mark. Six-Eyes already granted him unparalleled control, unmatched even by the King of Curses. But Khaine's mark took this even further. By how much? Satoru wasn't sure, but it was definitely a significant enhancement. Manipulating and shaping Cursed Energy, making it flow smoothly – all of it was now far easier, like his Cursed Energy had been... well, lubed up.
Okay, wrong analogy, but that was the gist. Smoother, faster, and easier.
It was a bit of a shame that he couldn't quite manipulate Khaine's fire to shoot fireballs, ironically enough. However, Satoru found that channeling bursts of Cursed Energy into the Sword of Khaine allowed him to unleash great gusts and waves of fire that consumed everything caught in their path, like Hollow Technique: Purple, but on fire and – obviously – a lot weaker. These flames could melt and cleave through just about anything in their path, however, even Titans, provided their shields were down; otherwise, Satoru had to use the sword itself to breach a shield. Khaine's fire wasn't just fire; it had a conceptual element, granting it power far beyond mundane flames. But, Satoru lamented, Khaine's fire was too rowdy to be shaped into anything specific. It wanted to be wild, angry, and murderous – like an angry chihuahua. Trying to force it into another shape was futile.
To be fair, Satoru only wanted to make a fireball because it would be freaking cool.
"Kill them all!" For dramatic effect, Satoru raised the Sword of Khaine, rallying the Aeldari Warriors for one final push against the Mechanicus. Their forces, he'd noted maybe an hour ago, after... quite some time of constant fighting, had ceased arriving. No more reinforcements. No more titans and machines and robots. And, as far as Satoru was aware, the Mechanicus didn't seem to have stealthy agents sneaking about for some hidden mission, especially not when their ships were getting hammered by the Aeldari fleet into oblivion.
The Adeptus Mechanicus was losing – badly at that. Sure, their initial assault was freaking strong, but that was it. They did not have enough numbers for a sustained battle. Though, before Satoru launched about a thousand Purples at their fleet through the Star Piercer, they probably did have the numbers, because all their tactics, thus far, seemed to rely heavily on massed assaults, full-frontal attacks that relied almost entirely on brute force. But, that was the problem with brute force; if you didn't use enough of it, then you weren't going to win. Not to mentioned the Blue Singularities that Satoru launched right at them as they entered the Craftworld from a single entry point, like a bunch of desperate idiots.
And now, there were only a handful of them left. Nearly all of their titans were dead and ruined on the ground, their tanks torn to bits by sustained fire, their cyborg armies cut down, and now all that was left were the Tech-Priests themselves, who commanded a remnant army of machine soldiers and some armored vehicles of some kind. They had a few wacky robots, but – at the end of the day – mechanized... horses and runners really didn't make as much sense as actual vehicles.
And even those didn't grant them victory.
This was the end, the final push, which was good since Satoru was expecting a visit from Kairos at any moment, given the fact that, by technicality, he'd stolen the Shard of Khaine from the Aeldari. The mark over his heart burned and ached, which meant the big blue bird was coming.
"FOR THE BRITHEIM!" One of the Swooping Crane Warriors roared, raising his own blade. The others roared with him, thousands upon thousands of Aeldari Warriors raising their voices, lacing the very air itself with their fanatical and fervent Cursed Energies. The entirety of the Craftworld hummed, the ground seeming pulsating with radiant and powerful bursts of Positive Energy. Man, Satoru mused, this shit was getting crazy. "LEAD THEM TO PARADISE!"
"LEAD THEM TO PARADISE!" The Aeldari Warriors roared as they charged one last time. That was their war cry now, apparently. But, Satoru mused, it wasn't nearly as cringe-worthy as it used to be. Now, he actually felt their fervor and their faith. And, honestly, while it scared him more than he'd like to admit, it also felt nice to be seen as more than just a simple weapon, as more than just a big strong monster to be thrown at other big strong monsters. No, they saw him as a leader. They looked to him for hope and they did so with adoration – not fear. They saw him as their messiah, the one to usher in a supposed Paradise.
Satoru didn't like the idea of being saddled with a responsibility that was never supposed to be his. But, he couldn't quite say that he disliked it, either. Maybe somewhere in the middle. Whatever the case, the Aeldari were a fascinating people and, despite everything, Satoru found more in common with them than with other humans. Sure, a great majority of the Aeldari worshiped him, but not all. Caoimhe was one who didn't see him as a great messiah. She saw him as himself, as Gojo Satoru – very powerful, perhaps, but never as anything more than what he was. And that, that sort of relationship wasn't anything he'd be getting if he returned to the humans and joined the Imperium for whatever idiotic reason he could think of.
But, why would he? As Caoimhe said and as Satoru himself noted, the average citizen of the Imperium was afraid of Sorcerers, like himself, superstitious and foolish, precisely the sort of people that drove a dear friend to a path of genocide.
Satoru smiled faintly as he made his final decision. Screw the Imperium and screw humanity. The Aeldari accepted him as one of their own, ironically enough. And he'd rather spend his days with a race of Sorcerers than waste any of his time helping a theocratic, superstitious empire, ruled by decrepit old fools.
Nah. No thanks. And, to be perfectly honest, Satoru might've been human. He might've had human parents, and a few human friends and acquaintances, but – at the end of the day – he'd never once felt a connection to his own species. But, with the Aeldari, it was different. Because there was a connection. And that... was worth more than whatever flimsy bond he had with humanity – as a race.
"FOR THE BRITHEIM!"
"LEAD THEM TO PARADISE!"
Satoru led the charge, using only the Infinity portion of Limitless as he sliced apart an armored vehicle, which promptly blew up in his face, sending shrapnel everywhere. A hailstorm of bullets and explosive devices zipped past him, left and right and every single direction at once. Grinning, Satoru increased the output of Infinity, creating a large bubble of it, which protected the Aeldari Warriors around him from harm. Cursed Augmentation bolstered his physical prowess to god-like levels, especially now that he had a nigh-unlimited supply of Cursed Energy and full and absolute control with Six-Eyes and Khaine's Mark.
Satoru swung the Sword of Khaine down and unleashed a wave of fire and raced forward and consumed hundreds of the remaining Mechanicus forces, melting metal and reducing flesh to ashes, opening up a burning path for the Swooping Crane Warriors to pierce through and break into their defenses. And, what followed afterwards was a slaughter as the Mechanicus lines broke apart and their warriors and automatons were cut down by the fanatical horde of Aeldari Warriors, who'd abandoned all their tactics and formations in favor of simply charging and killing as many of the Mechanicus as they could.
Of course, Satoru joined the fray. It was easy enough, he mused, to tell friend from foe apart. The Sword of Khaine surged and slashed, melting and killing just about anything it hit. Boiling blood sprayed and scattered all around him, melding with all the oil and grease spilled by the death throes of machines. A few of the Tech-Priests attacked with metal tendrils of some sort, unleashing laser beams and all kinds of weapons that would've fried lesser men to a crisp. But, Satoru cared little. With the Sword of Khaine in hand, the Honored One cut them down where they stood.
He would've wanted to preserve at least some of them, just to figure out why they invaded the Craftworld, but it no longer mattered. More than anything, the Imperium really didn't need a reason to attack and kill any sapient life form that wasn't human; so, it simply did not matter. And so, if they didn't need a reason to kill, then neither did he. Satoru was going to kill them all. From that moment onward, he was now an enemy of mankind. Ironic, given how much he'd already sacrificed just for a bunch of human strangers.
The thrum of battle blurred and, soon enough, Satoru found that there was nothing left for him to kill. He stood atop a mountain of partially melted and charred bodies, the corpses of both men and machine. Briefly, Satoru wondered how the cyborgs and Tech-Priests must've felt when they saw a human fighting alongside the Aeldari. But, it was likely that they didn't think much of it at all.
Satoru looked around him and saw that all the Aeldari Warriors had gathered around the mountain, each of them looking up at him in solemn silence. The Craftworld passed by a star and a stream of sunlight surged in from above and bathed Satoru in golden light, his silver white hair fluttering in the wind. Six-Eyes blazed like twin stars. Ah shit, he looked fucking cool.
He turned to all the Aeldari, wondering if he should say anything. Ultimately, however, Satoru decided that a few simple words would be enough. He wasn't exactly a motivational speaker, but he could learn.
"We've won – against all odds. Against everything our enemy brought to bear. All of you, be proud of yourselves for defending your home and your people. Because I am proud of all of you." And so, with a soft smile, Satoru then raised the Sword of Khaine high into the air for all the Aeldari to see. A burst of Cursed Energy intensified the flames, which seemingly swallowed the entirety of the blade in writhing tongues of fire.
"HAIL THE HARBINGER OF THE GODS!"
"HAIL!"
"HAIL THE HARBINGER OF PARADISE!"
"HAIL!"
"ALL HAIL THE BRITHEIM! BRINGER OF VICTORY!"
"ALL HAIL!"
They all removed their helmets and fell to their knees.
Yeah, he wasn't going to lie to himself anymore. Being adored to the point of worship actually felt quite nice. Their adoration certainly wasn't false or forced, either; Satoru knew how both of those things felt and neither of those felt anywhere near as good as what he felt in that moment. Was it love? He wasn't sure. Love was one of the things he'd never really felt or recognized – from himself or from others. But, at the very least, what the Aeldari felt was genuine. Their belief was palpable and so was their fervor; he would've preferred love over adoration, honestly. But... he'd take what he could get.
At the very least, the Aeldari didn't think of him was a tool or a monster or a weapon. And that was more than he'd ever felt in his whole life.
For better or for worse, Gojo Satoru was the Britheim, destined to become a god – or something close to it – destined to transcend his physical self to become something even greater. He was going to bring the Aeldari to whatever paradise they were imagining for themselves. That'd give him some other direction aside from wanting to become a god, at least.
Satoru breathed in and smiled, shaking his head as he willed away the powers of the Mark of Khaine, his right arm returning to normal and the burning sword fading away into the wind.
Now, maybe someone can explain why that one fucking Space Marine had Sukuna's tattoos all over his armor?
AN: Chapter 37 is up on (Pat)reon!