Pain lanced through me as ceremite, plastasteel, and adamantite sloughed off the left side of my chestplate. My twin hearts thumped against my rib plates at the implication. I covered the wound with my powerfist before bolter rounds concentrated on it, narrowly reaching a column as a plasma shot whizzed past me. The vanguard lowered away his pistol, a cybernetic growl escaping him as plasma dripped down and corroded his metal hand.

This couldn't be real. Holy shit, this couldn't be real. I took off my helmet, removing it with a hiss, to try an old trick I always did to wake myself from my nightmares. With two fingers pinching my nose, I tried to breathe through it. Then, I tried again, and again.

This was reality.

Those were real imperial citizens I just killed. Those were real chaos cultists. And these were real Night Lords.

I hadn't noticed the details before, caught up in the fantasy of being a space marine, but now it was obvious. Human skin was stretched, stitched together, and pulled over our power armor. The smell was terrible. Then, there were the bones, dangling all over our warplate. They weren't adult bones. There was a difference in the proportions of fetal bones and adult bones, and the way the sutures of the skull were fused.
The Night Lords were terrifying.

But the Iron Hands were somehow almost just as disturbing.

I could hear prosthetics whirring to life with each step they took. All of them had artificial hands, but their modifications only started there. Entire limbs, torsos, and heads were replaced with lifeless cybernetics. Mechadenrites and servo-arms carried weapons, protruding out of their bodies like spider limbs. And they fought with ruthless efficiency, every single shot resulting in an injury or a kill shot. How much of them was left under their power armor? I felt cold sweat build on my forehead.

I had to get out of here.

Kalow snarled and pulled out a grenade— a melta bomb — from his waist. "I had wanted to save this," he said, tossing it out from cover.

The melta bomb ignited and the barrier bursted in an instant. A large section of the floor and several columns were liquidated. Half of the Iron Hands were shot down, sparks and flames flying out of their wounds. The rest plummeted down thousands of meters to the level below. I watched them turn into tiny pinpoints and crash into the ground. After a while, my breath hitched when I saw that they were still moving.

The Night Lords started to maneuver around the gaping hole in the floor, taking war gear from the corpses. I lingered around the edge. My enchanted eyesight honed on the cultists and the remaining planetary defense troops below. They were still fighting, struggling for their lives. The sheer scale of the battle was enormous, in the millions at least. I was actually in Warhammer 40k.

Servitors. Grey Knights. Tyranids.

Those were real now. They were just fiction, figures used to play an extremely expensive tabletop game. Here, they were real living entities. I could see them myself, in the flesh and blood, if I wanted to.

Then, I did see them.

A servitor ambling about, a crude amalgamation of metal and flesh, through the corridors of a dark ship. A gray knight crushing a pink horror with his foot, then turning to face me, the corpse of a flesh-metal monstrosity of a titan behind him. A lictor, towering over me, cloaking itself as a swarm of tyranaids approached me and an army of cultists.

I realized with dawning horror that I was experiencing what Konrad Curze did.

Archoflaggants.

Helbrutes.

Penitent machines.

Primarch.

I nearly screamed before the visions abruptly stopped.

"Brothers, I am here." Heavy, earth shaking footsteps rapidly approached from the depths of the palace. A hulking, angular war machine with arms and legs paused at the dead Iron hands, before it placed a pair of brutalist talons on both sides of the gate and started tearing it open. The twin doors rippled, shrieking, and they broke off the walls. Me and the Night Lords immediately fired at it, but it did nothing. "Disgraceful. Pathetic. You all deserved your deaths."

With one hefty jerk of its arms, it threw the doors at us. Pillars were sheared as the doors flew through them, the ceiling starting to collapse without the structural support. Three Night Lords were obliterated, slammed into the wall and wedged by the slabs of metal. Just like that, three chaos space marines, transhuman warriors enhanced by the ruinous powers, were dead.

I had a model of that thing on my bookshelf. I had thought its legs were stubby and that it looked funny, and I had chuckled as I painted it. Now, it didn't seem so funny.
I turned and ran towards the elevator. I wondered what the Night Lords were thinking. Why was the terminator running away? Wasn't he a Night Lord, an astartes? Then, I realized that all of the night lords were running with me.

"Night Lords! Save me!" the warband leader screamed out the vox. "Lord Yandel, remember the terms of our deal! I need more power! I'll give everything for one more chance!"

There was the sound of warped laughter in the background.

The dreadnought charged through the hall and ripped apart the remaining pillars with its talons. Ironhail heavy stubbers and heavy bolters sprayed at us. A night lord fell down dead from an unlucky round to the head. The dreadnought reached the edge of the hole and leaped across it. It nearly slipped down before it slammed its hands into the ground, pulled itself forward.

It reached the elevator when we were only a couple meters down. I watched as it reached out its arm and stopped the elevator from moving with a metallic groan. It didn't flinch at the combined firepower of five astartes, bolter rounds exploding on its hull.

"The flesh is weak." The dreadnought lifted the elevator up, its talons sinking into the metal of the ceiling. "My brothers deserved to die for their weakness. Now, because of your weakness, I will kill all of you."

The dreadnought reached its other arm into the elevator, contemplating for a moment, before moving it toward the Slaaneshi Nightlord with a claw. The nightlord lashed out with his power maul in a frenzy of attacks. Then, the dreadnought slammed its talons into the night lord. The space marine slumped against the wall, somehow still breathing.

"The ruinous powers can't save you, heretic."

The dreadnought pinched all three of its talons together and drove them forward again. Now, the night lord was dead. The dreadnought hummed in satisfaction, a harsh artificial sound, and then the black slit on its hull looked toward me.

I froze for a brief moment as its talons barreled toward me. I instinctively pulled the trigger on my storm bolter, but all the ammunition had already been fired. It reached toward me. Its talons were only a couple meters away from me. I was pinned against the wall now, flailing my powerfist against its talons. The sound of a warplate being rented apart filled the elevator. I could feel the edge of its talon touch my skin, before shrieking echoed through the palace.

A incomprensible mass entered the hall. It was horrifying. My breath hitched. Even the other Night Lords flinched at the sight. Thousands of tentacles dragged the thing forward, faster than any space marine I've seen so far, even though it was twice the size of the dreadnought. Its thousands of eyes flickered with awareness as its mouths opened wide in anticipation. Shards of metal were melded with its flesh, dark blue and white in color.

"An abominable Chaos Spawn."

The dreadnought twisted around, releasing me, and fired all of its weapons on it. The elevator descended once again as the dreadnought met the creature. Dozens of tentacles were ripped off with one swing of its talons. The last glimpse before the elevator moved on was of the Chaos Spawn wrapping its tendrils around the dreadnought, mouths gnawing and chewing through the metal.

I had always thought the Iron Hands were lame, with their daddy issues and emotional baggage from the Horus Heresy. I was wrong.

"I believe that thing was our lord," Kalow said. "And I believe that my point from before was correct."

"For once," Tava began with a chuckle, "I'll admit you were right."

An apothecary was kneeling next to the dead slaaneshi nightlord, narthecium drilling and cutting through armor. He stood up, gene seed in hand. "Communication has been cut off with all other squads. The warband has splintered without Delahk. The Night Child floats without an owner."

Kalow nodded. "There will be a struggle for the Night Child. The flagship is too valuable. Even with the presence of the Iron Hands and an inquisitor, our brothers will risk it."

"Indeed," Tava said. "All squads will be fighting for a position of the lord of the Night Child. We have to enter the frenzy."

I stayed silent, standing in a corner and pretending that I didn't exist. I'd be gone in a few hours. I'd sneak away and never see this planet again. I wouldn't see a space marine again except as a miniature.

Basically, I was going to get the hell out of dodge.

"Then, I believe we need a leader," the apothecary said. "Who here is the strongest among us? Who has had the most experience among us. Who here has served the Night Haunter himself?"

The apothecary turned toward me. I froze in place. All three Night Lords were staring at me now.

"I have my doubts about you," Kalow said. "You act differently than before. Back there, when we were attacked by Iron Hands, it reeks of the warp. "

I opened my mouth to sayYes I was corrupted by chaos,but the apothecary cut me off.

"I suspect it too, but what Chaos Lord is not blessed by the gods? It is a sign of favor."
"What about Delahk, Kathus?" Tava asked. "Helakaten, do you swear not to follow his path?"

"No," I immediately said before anything could stop me. "I can't promise to not follow his path. I'd become far worse than Delahk. Far, far worse."

The night lord stood there, eyes widening. The sound of the elevator descending dominated for a long moment. Then, he laughed. "Your honesty is refreshing."

Oh shit.

"Delahk was a special occasion. He was not worthy." Kathus kneeled. "But I have a vision that you will be. Ave Dominus Nox."

Kalow removed his helmet, narrowing his black eyes. Then, he half-knelt, head raised high. "I will follow you for now. But if you suffer the same signs of failure as Delahk, I will leave. Ave Dominus Nox. "

"Strength is what matters. Prove yourself." Tava kneeled. "Ave Dominus Nox."
My hope scattered away in front of me like Ahriman and his rubric.

"Now, my lord," Kathus said, removing his helm. There were feathers growing out of the right side of his face. He smiled at me. "What is our next course of action?"