Day 35, Continued

Tide circled Kalak. The Star Road had departed, now busy serving as a scout vessel of sorts, visiting the various other worlds in the system. None were inhabited and most had been stripped of their resources millennia ago to fuel the hives on Monstrum, though that did not necessarily render them useless.

Putting that matter aside, the raging half-spawn had yet to calm down as Tide had hoped he eventually would. Tide's control of his Domain was nearly absolute, even letting him accelerate the perception of time for its inhabitants by simply connecting them to the processing power of his Key Minds, which were capable of processing centuries-worth of information in seconds. He had been slowly accelerating that perception for Kalak in a method not unlike what he had done for Aliciel and several of the other Sisters of Battle, but it had little to no effect. The rage seemed to be self-sustaining. While there were lulls in its intensity, there was no clear sign of any cognizance. Kalak simply seemed to shut down for a while without anything to kill, almost like an automaton without a directive.

But he wasn't an automaton, or so Tide told himself.

The corruption that gripped him was the cause. Kalak's soul was a patchwork mess. There was no finesse to the changes that had occurred. It was like someone had taken a butcher's knife to it, filling in the gaps with writhing tendrils of Warp-stuff. The so-called 'blessings' of the Dark Gods.

There was a malevolence there. That much was obvious to any who saw the rampaging creature Kalak had become. However, Tide could tell there was something more, something darker. An intruder that did not belong.

A daemon, perhaps? If it was, it wasn't intelligent. Not yet, in any case. If Kalak had transformed fully into a chaos spawn, the jury was still out on whether it would have become intelligent then either.

Was this how Daemon Princes started? Kalak wasn't of strong enough will to overcome the slapdash job done here. He was like a potato sack, stuffed fuller and fuller until something, his soul, ripped.

If this case was indicative of the kind of 'ascension' other Chaos Gods put their worshippers through, it was no wonder there were so many Chaos Spawn while Daemon Princes were the rare exception. It was crude, sloppy even.

He doubted they cared all too much. Chaos tended to have a 'survival of the fittest' mindset, though the gods had always seemed to care more for their own amusement than truly finding the strongest of their followers or even cultivating such beings.

How many beings like Kalak existed? How many had chosen to take that path, how many others had been forced down it by circumstance or the whims of a malevolent, scheming god? Which had Kalak been?

He wasn't sure. Kalak didn't know, that was for certain. Either the fury within him was suppressing the memories, as Tide suspected, or they had been expunged along with everything else not related to killing, as he feared.

Beastmen had the short end of the stick in the Imperium. Not useful enough to be considered an abhuman, just strange enough to be the target of fear and hate. Depending on the world, depending on the time, the location, even just the whims of whoever was nearby, they might be able to live a life of squalor or be murdered by Imperial enforcers or random citizens angered by superstition or simply looking to pass the time.

It had happened on Monstrum before. The knowledge of the Inquisitor's arrival had caused a massive mob to form and murder countless mutants deemed impure. There had even been dozens of abhumans caught in the riots as well. That had been only a few years ago. Tide had connected with nearly every single person still alive who had been in those riots, both as victims and as abusers, at least in Malum and a few of the other norther hives now.

Had Kalak been a victim of those riots? Probably.

A part of Tide, a large part of him, wanted to make those abusers feel the same thing that their victims had. Would that be justice? Retribution? Vengeance?

Perhaps he would, someday. Or, perhaps, he could teach them to be better.

Or, maybe, a combination of both? The things Ellen had done in her service to the Imperium had not exactly been pleasant and kind. Perhaps he should give her the perspective of her victims. Would that teach her to be more empathetic? Maybe. When he had first met Purilla, he had shown her the abuse that psykers like her were put through, much of it drawn from her own memories yet framed through his perspective.

When Tide had first discovered himself to be in the 40k galaxy, not to mention in control of the fucking Flood, he had not expected he would be playing therapist in a little over a month. Let alone for a chaos spawn.

Not to mention having a Sister of Battle be his partner-in-crime in this attempt.

"He just keeps swinging," Aliciel said with a sigh. "And screaming."

I had hoped time without blood would dull its anger, but that appears not to have been the case.

"He's gotten angrier, if you ask me," Aliciel stated, crossing her arms.

Another tactic then?

"You mentioned he doesn't have any memories of his past?"

None that I can see.

"Even if he does calm down, how will you deal with the corruption?"

I am unsure. Shall I show you what I see?

Aliciel paused for a moment… then nodded. Tide couldn't actually connect her directly to his senses, human brains simply weren't capable of processing that kind of information, similar to how humans could not see the true form of daemons, only their brain's interpretations of something unknowable. Instead, he sent her such interpretations…

Aliciel looked at Kalak and saw his soul and knew if she'd been in her body, her stomach would have turned at the sight. Kalak's soul was dull, like a lightbulb set to dim. However, that was not the worst of it. Malevolent growths grew from pits carved as though by a butcher's knife from the soul. Chunks were missing, replaced by blood red energies that writhed like tendrils and curled like serpents about the wounded mass that made up the core of Kalak's being.

"It…" Aliciel swallowed thickly. "Its like a fruit filled with worms…"

Indeed.

Aliciel paused, a thought occurring. Her own analogy had given her an idea. "You can… affect him, right? Interact with his soul?"

I can, yes.

"Could you remove the corruption?"

It may be dangerous to try. I may break something I didn't mean to.

"I don't think you can break him anymore than he already is," Aliciel said honestly.

I… will start small.

With whatever sight Tide had granted her, Aliciel watched as a new tendril, little more than an outline in her eyes, reached out from the darkness. The corruption seemed to react as it drew near and she saw Kalak with her normal eyes rear back and rage even harder, his axes swinging far faster than her eyes would have been capable of keeping up with had they been in the Materium. Yet, there was no way for a physical attack to work in this place.

The tendril paused, as though considerate, then struck forward at lightning speed, wrapping about a portion of Kalak's soul, one nearly entirely made of corruption. Like a garotte wire slicing into the neck of its victim, the tendril tightened about a writhing mass and then…

There was a sound Aliciel wasn't sure was real as soulstuff ripped. Kalak screamed a haunting cry of pain, one that was far too human sounding for such a monstrous being to have created. The piece of corruption drifted away, along with one of Kalak's horns, pulled by some unseen force. Then, it was like watching a master chef dicing it apart into smaller and smaller pieces until all that remained was some kind of clear substance, like water. Aliciel opened her mouth to speak, but then she saw something like blood start to flow out of the wound Tide had made.

One moment, please.

Tide's voice sounded slightly urgent as more tendrils appeared, reshaping what remained of the small piece of corruption… then pushed it back over where it had been taken from originally. Aliciel watched as the corruption that had remained seemed to lash out, devouring the purified energies and repairing themselves. Kalak roared a bestial cry as a new horn grew, one slightly more curled than his last had been.

"What… was that? You'd gotten rid of the corruption!"

His soul was leaking.

Tide sounded less upset at her questioning him and more like he was merely considering the words he had just spoken.

"How does a soul leak?"

Not sure. If I am not mistaken, the Dark Eldar possess souls with similar issues, though I've yet to encounter any of their kind.

"Eldar?" Aliciel blinked at the sudden change of topic.

Dark Eldar. I both am and am not surprised by how many people in the Imperium don't know the difference or even of the separate factions of such an old species.

"What's the difference?" They were both filthy xenos, after all-… Aliciel let out a sigh at the errant, almost automatic thought. Tide was proof that the alien was not as horrific as she had been taught. Nor were humans simply purer than such beings.

There are many differences, exceptions, and similarities, but for the purposes of helping Kalak here, the important one is that Dark Eldar are slowly dying because of their souls being drained by a certain member of the Ruinous Powers.

"Do these… 'Dark' Eldar not possess the long lives their species is known for?"

They are able to… refill their souls, I suppose would be the method, by feeding on the suffering of others.

"Feeding on the-," Aliciel felt the old fury of hers begin to rise and she wasn't sure if she should even try and tamp down on it.

Dark Eldar are, as far as I know, similar to Chaos worshippers that choose to follow the Dark Gods. There are other means they could use to safeguard their souls, like those the Craftworld Eldar and Exodites utilize, which don't involve causing suffering.

"So, I'm… what, free to hate them?"

If you like.

Aliciel was quiet for a long moment, staring at Kalak for a time.

"You're going to try and get them on this path too, aren't you?"

Tide said nothing, but she could feel his quiet amusement at her exasperation.

Praxiah strode into the great hall that was the governor's throne room in Janus, mixed feelings of confusion, joy, and anger guiding her every step. Standing before the throne, which was riddled with autogun rounds some enterprising trooper had apparently decided it needed, was Colonel Marcus Agrippa, standing at attention with his staff, a small, but confident smile on his face.

He deserved that look, she'd admit. If anything, the ease and speed with which they had taken this city should have had any officer brimming with pride and even cockiness. Yet, Agrippa retained a tight leash over his emotions, something she could appreciate. After all, this was still only a single hive city.

And yet, she couldn't help but feel it was too easy. Outside of Aliciel and the Sisters who had been sent with her to try and flank the enemy, she could count the number of Sisters killed in this siege on one hand. Plenty of wounded, yes, but they had all made swift recoveries. If anything, she'd have somewhat suspected that someone, possibly the colonel himself, of sidelining the Sororitas, as his own troops casualties were significantly higher, though even their losses were far lower than what could have been reasonably expected of them. Not that he could have possibly arranged for such things, he was subordinate to her after all.

Praxiah couldn't remember the last time a campaign she had led, or even one she'd participated in, had gone this well. Even smaller battles should have seen more Sisters die than this entire campaign had managed. Throne, the Repentia hadn't lost even a single Sister, despite their fervent efforts to sacrifice themselves in glorious combat. To go even further, capturing an entire hive city in less than a month was unheard of in all her time as a Sister of Battle.

The enemy had fought them tooth and nail, at least until near the end. Imperial forces had been far outnumbered and it had been all Praxiah could hope to just hold a beachhead until the rest of the planet got its act together and started sending reinforcements. But then… Their lines had kept pushing forward, more and more, and the enemy, despite its best efforts, had failed to stop their gathering momentum.

How was this possible? A part of her, the prideful part that brightened with joy every time she read an after-action report of the brave men and women under her command pushing back the darkness, told her it must have been a miracle, the will of the God-Emperor Himself.

The more cynical part of her that had been honed over centuries of warfare told her that she would be a fool to just believe that. Yet, what did it mean to be a Sister, if not to have faith?

"You and your troops have done well, Colonel Agrippa," Praxiah stated, nodding in approval. She paused as she neared the throne and noticed that the holes in it were not the only damage around. The marble flooring had deep gouges in it, as if marked by claws, and the fine carpet that led to the throne were singed. "What happened here?"

"ONI encountered the governor of the city and attempted to arrest him," Agrippa replied almost automatically. "He was apparently a witch of some kind. We've taken care of him."

Praxiah sighed, though she had already suspected the governors of these traitor hives to be under such malevolent influences. Had she been so foolish as to not see the rot growing below the surface of her own planet? For it to have taken root so deeply, it must have been present for years, decades even.

She cleared her mind of the thoughts with a prayer asking for the strength to fix her mistake. She would cleanse this world of its sickness, starting with the hive city she had just captured.

Praxiah noticed Agrippa was staring at her, rather intensely. "What is it, colonel?"

"I recommend we keep up our momentum and move on to Dolus immediately, Canoness," Agrippa stated. "If we are able to continue the showing we managed here, we may be able to take another hive city just as quickly as we did this one."

Praxiah wondered if it was arrogance driving this belief that they could repeat this miracle or a profound faith and confidence. Would it be a reach to say they couldn't repeat this success? Perhaps. Somehow, the Malum PDF and the Order of the Cleansing Rains had managed the impossible. The prideful part of her shouted for her to agree with him, but the cynical part reminded her that her duties were not done.

"I am afraid we have higher priorities," Praxiah stated. "This city belongs to the God-Emperor, but its people abided corrupt rulers." Agrippa was oddly quiet at that, so Praxiah continued. "We must purge the unclean. Ensure there is no trace left."

"In that case, I've been told that Governor Coris is sending over an additional ten regiments to supplement our forces, Canoness," Agrippa stated, and she raised an eyebrow. No such reports had been made to her. "We can leave behind a force of our own PDF to ensure the city is free of such corruption, while we continue on to defeat the rest of the traitors."

"I am afraid not, Colonel," Praxiah shook her head, appreciating the man's intent at least. Sisters of Battle were born for battle after all, to keep them away from the fight was like keeping a fish from water, not that Agrippa would likely have understood such an analogy. However, Sisters also had the duty to the purity deemed righteous by the God-Emperor. "The Order is far more versed in hunting down and expunging such corruption. While your troops will, of course, assist us in exterminating any detestable mutants or heretics we find, this monumental effort will require all the forces we have. Even with nearly twenty regiments, this hive city is enormous and will take time and careful effort to purify. However, should your troops show the same devotion in this task as they did in retaking this city for the God-Emperor, I am certain this hive will be cleansed in no time at all."

"Indeed, Canoness," Agrippa said with a perfectly neutral look on his face. "My only concern is the threat of the traitors who remain. They may prepare a counter-attack while we remove any elements of corruption."

Praxiah had expected the man to acquiesce by this point. He had never been this insistent about something before and it was slightly concerning. "We cannot trust this hive to remain loyal if we march to Dolus. Not without a purge. It is better this way." That was the end of it, she decided, even he-

"No."

Praxiah blinked, not comprehending the word that had just come out of Agrippa's mouth. The throne room was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. He had said… No. To her. A colonel of the Planetary Defense Force was disagreeing with a Canoness of the Adeptas Sororitas?

It took Praxiah a moment to realize she even should have been angry at the objection, the blatant disregard for the chain of command, so struck was she by the simple negative.

Not so different from you disobeying an Inquisitor, hm?

The moment she heard the voice inside her skull that was not her own and saw the small smile on the man's face, Praxiah drew her bolt pistol in an instant and fired it straight at Marcus Agrippa's head, blowing apart his skull in an explosion of blood and brains. None of the other staff reacted, simply looking at her with blank expressions and Praxiah suddenly realized that she was the only one in the throne room apart from them. Her guards, her staff, none of them were present. They hadn't entered the room with her and she hadn't noticed. That wasn't a simple act of carelessness, but some dampening of her perceptions.

Drawing her chainsword and revving its engine into a growling rumble. Holding it up before her, as much a threat as a means to ward off any attack, she checked her surroundings. As if a veil had been lifted allowing them to appear, she suddenly noticed the hundreds of PDF, Janus PDF, laying on the ground all about her. For a moment, she thought they were dead, but with growing concern and confusion saw their chests rising and falling. Not dead, asleep, and not even her chainsword's roar woke them. What was happening?

She fired her bolt pistol into the rest of Agrippa's staff, all clearly corrupted by whatever daemon had been messing with her head. They didn't seem to care or even notice her attacks. Then, with the last of the Malumites falling to the ground, dead in a splatter of their swiftly pooling blood, she turned and levied the weapon at the nearest sleeping PDF trooper.

And it was here that she realized she could no longer squeeze the trigger. Her finger simply refused to move, ignoring her brain's commands. Then, as though gripped within an invisible grasp of iron, her arm was wrenched upwards, leaving her pistol pointing harmlessly at the ceiling. She struggled and fought with all her might, but nothing seemed to be working and, in an instant, her entire body was frozen as though encased in solid rock while she was unable to so much as even muster a twitch in one of her fingers.

I'd apologize for this, but you leave me with few choices.

She prayed to the God-Emperor for a miracle to destroy whatever daemon had managed to rob her body of its autonomy, but there was no answer. She fought even harder against the corruption, yet nothing worked.

Praxiah didn't know what was happening. One moment, she was standing in the middle of the governor's throne room, unable to move.

The next, she was falling through the depths of an ocean of darkness.

Now, shall you confess your sins, sister?

The Brood Mind felt small. It had not felt small in some time. Not since the patriarch had first come to this world and begun the work to call the God Mind to feed. Of course, even if it had added all this world's biomass to its brood, it would have still felt tiny compared to the vastness of the Tyranid Hive Mind, had it been capable of even distinguishing itself from that intelligence in any meaningful way.

But this was not how things were supposed to go. It had taken years for it to take root on this world, to spread, to grow, to make ready. And now, that work was all gone. Had it been capable of feeling frustration, the Brood Mind may have lashed out in rage and fury at the diminishment of its forces

But it was not capable of such a thing. It recognized that its opponents here were too powerful, too strange, to deal with. All it could do was try to avoid complete death until the storm in the Warp faded and it could send out a call to the Hive Mind.

The Enemy, for that was all the Brood Mind or any of its drones knew it to be, was strange and cunning. It had come from the sky first, falling like the fiery rain of the uninhabited region of this world the drones called the Barren Lands. Then, when the Brood Mind had prepared for such an attack, it had changed and scuttled up the walls with infiltration units. In both situations, it had used the biomass the Brood Mind had gathered for the day when the God Mind descended to grow its forces to an overwhelming horde.

But now, the Brood Mind looked across the Barren Lands and saw there was no room for such trickery anymore. In the Barren Lands, everything was revealed and burned. There was only one direction to come from, through the tunnel glowing gold that connected one hive city to another through a blasted landscape. The tunnel that was now guarded by an army of drones, howling packs of genestealers, and every bit of ordinance the Brood Mind had managed to collect. There was no room for trickery now.

Or was there?

The Enemy was strange and cunning. It had found ways past its defenses two times before. Could it do so again?

In truth, the Brood Mind would not have chosen the tunnel as the core of its defenses, had it been able to. The central hive spire, with its fortifications, winding halls, and countless bunkers, was a natural first pick, not to mention where the bulk of the biomass had been stored.

But that place was closed off to the Brood Mind now. Something had been growing within the bowels of that spire, something that disrupted the Brood Mind's connection. At first, it had just been Drones, with their weak connections to the Brood Mind. They went mad and smashed their skulls against rockrete, begging for forgiveness from the God-Emperor that had abandoned them. Then, it had been hybrids, who threw themselves from the sides of the spire or leapt into the acid pools common in hives. And then the genestealer packs sent in to find and eliminate the source of whatever was causing this perished, falling upon one another like rabid animals.

Was it another trick of the Enemy? Or something else? The Brood Mind did not know, only that whatever was causing the disruption was gaining in power and now nearly covered every spire. There was no indication of it stopping, either.

It was possible that the Brood Mind would have to leave this hive, Whiro as the drones knew it, and go to another. To attack, rather than defend, or risk disruption of its mind as well as destruction of its bodies.

And then, one of its sentries detected something. Something odd, something surprising. A train was coming towards the city, but it was not coming from the south… but the west. From the hive city the drones knew as Mania. And, while the first reaction of the drones would be to think the Imperium they had betrayed had come for vengeance, the Brood Mind realized different.

Once more, the Enemy had found a way around its defenses.

The Brood Mind felt something. Whatever it was could not be called frustration.

But it was close to it.