Here I have another Omake! I hope you enjoy it and comment!

Omake: The Killjoy

The turbulent currents of the Immaterium were never a peaceful place. It was the realm where the most dangerous and chaotic minds in the galaxy played their games, twisting the fates of billions of people as if they were nothing more than pawns on a board. A gleaming table stood at the centre of this turbulent sea, its surface a mosaic of ancient stone and unknown technology, surrounded by the most powerful and terrifying entities in existence.

The Emperor of Mankind, a half-living, eternally burning corpse, ever stoic and imposing, sat at the head of the table. His robes ablaze with holy fire and flickering warplight; his presence was storm clouds of royal authority and a cacophony of shouts in fanatical praise.

Next to him sat the Ruinous Gods. Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, his ever-changing visage at once a mask of intrigue and calculated madness. Nurgle, the Plaguefather, his bloated body perpetually dripping with pestilence, grinning beneath his miasmic veil. Khorne, the Bloodlord, huge and imposing, ever ready for war. And Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, lounging in decay, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he savoured his power over pain and pleasure. And then there was the daemon king Vashtorr the Archfiend, aspiring fifth god of chaos, as he stared down the thalery with his cold mechanical eyes.

In one corner stood the great devourer, the Tyranid hive mind, a slithering shadow of maws that nibbled at table and board.

And on the other side were Gork and Mork, the titanic gods of the greenskins, being respectively the embodiment of the brutally cunning and cunningly brutal (or was it the other way around?) who in all their Ork wisdom (or as the empty bottles of mushroom liquor gave it away they were drunk, but anyway, does an Ork need a justification for knocking out his teeth?) would rather beat each other over the head with giant wrenches than pay attention to the big game.

In the background, the lesser deities huddled together, some waiting for their turn, some waiting for death, and a few there just for the free snacks. Watching as their greater counterparts moved the game pieces around with deliberate malice. Ynnead, still unborn and brooding, silently looked into the future, knowing his time would come. Tauva, the fledgling god of the Tau, watched the game warily, wondering when the day would come when he could make his mark. And the Star Child, the remnants of the Emperor's kindness, his brilliance is barely a candle, too nervous to play for fear of being abused by the ruinous gods.

The game had lasted for eons: manipulating the fate of entire species, turning alliances into bitter rivalries, and inciting war and chaos across the galaxy.

But then… something unexpected happened.

The gates to this sacred, twisted domain exploded off their hinges, sending pieces of reality and narrative structure in every direction.

Through the smoke and shattered causality, a newcomer stepped forward.

It was a massive, twisted mass of life, a grotesquely beautiful amalgam of fungi, corals, vines, and bioluminescent growths. Its form pulsed with energy, a mind composed of millions of voices speaking in harmony and a crown of singing stars.

The being radiated something so strange, so powerful, so utterly contradictory to the rules of the galaxy that all supernatural and divine entities present had a single collective thought:

What the fuck?

The tide had come.

For the first time in… well, in all of history, silence reigned. Even Gork and Mork stopped punching each other, their massive green fists frozen in mid-attack.

Tide looked around, his countless eyes—some were stalks, others flickering into invisible specters—scanning over the assembled gods and monsters.

Tide began to walk slowly toward the table, his footsteps echoing with the sound of wet earth and the creaking of wood until he arrived.

He then looked down at the table. The Great Game was being played out on that board: centuries of war, suffering, betrayal, and cruelty carefully crafted into one great eternal conflict.

Tide stared at him.

Everyone expected this unexpected new player to sit down, to play this game that will last for countless eons, but what he did was even more unexpected.

Tide kicked the table.

Shards flew everywhere. Empires crumbled. Narratives collapsed. Somewhere in realspace, a Black Library author woke up screaming, clutching the notes of his next novel as they disintegrated into nothingness.

Before anyone could react, Tide kicked Slaanesh in the crotch.

A sound that defied mortal comprehension echoed throughout the Warp. It was as if the concept of being "utterly shattered" had taken form. Slaanesh let out a high, melodious shriek that would have inspired new forbidden pleasures in any lesser mind, instead it made them all shudder.

"BITCH! NEEDY WHORE! SHIT HOLE! BLOWJOB!" The unexpected visitor screamed as he punched Slannesh in the crotch (on his balls? ovaries? or whatever Slannesh has down there) in front of the incredulous onlookers, the first time in millennia that anyone had shown such blatant disrespect.

Before Slaanesh could recover, Tide moved on, heading towards Tzeentch. The Changer of Ways looked both intrigued and alarmed, his many eyes darting in all directions to calculate the next move. But as Tide approached, he couldn't help but throw a handful of pepper dust into Tzeentch's ever-changing face.

"Did you not plan this? Lord, did I already have it all planned?" Tide's many voices sneered.

Tzeentch, the master of intrigue, cried out in an almost comical manner, wiping his eyes, which only made the situation worse. The god of change was not used to being left helpless like this.

Tide didn't wait for him to recover. He turned to Khorne, who was already staring at him with bloodshot eyes, eager for a fight.

Before the Warmaster could do anything, Tide reached deep into the Immaterium and pulled out a shapeless horror, a creature of pure evil that had long been forgotten in the darkest corners of reality. The moment it emerged, it hissed and leapt straight at Khorne's face, clawing at him like a rabid cat.

"GET IT OFF OF ME! GET IT OFF OF ME!" Khorne screamed, as he tried to get the shapeless horror off his face and stumbled in his chair (obviously made of skulls).

Nurgle, ever cheerful and pus-filled, snorted in amusement. That was until Tide shoved an entire bar of soap and a gallon of industrial disinfectant down his throat.

"BLARGHL! WHAT IS THIS CRAP!? WHY IS IT BURNING?" Nurgle screamed as he retched and spat out foam.

Tide's form throbbed with what could only be described as smug satisfaction.

Tide strode towards Vashtorr, the Archfiend, his mechanical eyes wide and shining in utter disbelief, his computer trying to make sense of this situation, he was completely still, perhaps if he stood very very still perhaps the intruder would pass him by, but unfortunately for Tide he was already towering over him, Vashtorr barely had time to stammer out a response before Tide snatched the artifacts of the old ones, those that would allow him to ascend to divinity, from his claws.

"H-hey! Those are mine! Do you have any idea how long I've…?"

Tide threw a glass of water at him.

The result was *instant*.

A zap. A spark. Then...

"brzzzzzzzzzzt… SYSTEM REBOOTING… PLEASE WAIT…ERROR ERROR ERROR...¡KZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT-BOOOOOOOM!"

Suddenly, the room was filled with screaming binaries, sparking wires, and the smell of fried circuits as Vashtorr's demonic machinery violently shorted out.

The mechanized abomination convulsed, its demonic form thrashing as its systems overloaded.

Tide watched in satisfaction, his hands (vines? tendrils? branches?) on his hips. "We don't need a fifth moron."

He then turned to the Hive Mind, who had been nibbling on the table. With a casual movement of his many limbs, Tide muzzled him.

"YOU NEED TO GO ON A DIET."

Somehow that made countless Tyranids forget how to eat, entire fleets and swarms starved, everyone who was fighting them wondering what the hell happened.

Then, Tide turned to the Emperor of Mankind, who had been silent throughout all of this, his shining golden form radiating an aura of dismay but hiding it with his regal façade.

"You" Tide said, pointing at the immortal corpse-god. "You are a narcissistic idiot and an incompetent father!"

For the first time in ten thousand years, the Emperor of Mankind blinked.

"NO! MORE THAN THAT, YOU WERE THE BIGGEST IMBECILE, COMMITTED UNCLEARABLE CRIMES, THE BLOODIEST CONQUEST IN ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY AND A CRAPPY FATHER! AND IN THE END FOR WHAT!?" YOU STUMBLED ON YOUR OWN MISTAKES! YOU LOST AND YOU DRAGGED ALL OF HUMANITY WITH YOU!".
The Emperor of Mankind was about to object but nothing came out, there was nothing to deny.

Before anyone could process what was happening, Tide flew past Nurgle, destroying a rotting wooden cage that held a frail goddess prisoner in its festering grip.

Isha, the Eldar goddess of healing and fertility, stood in shock as Tide deposited her on her back on a bed of moss and bordered by corals.

"WHAT!? YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Nurgle snorted.

"TOO LATE, YOU FAT FUCKING DISGUSTING NTR! THE WAIFU GODDESS MILF IS COMING WITH ME!" Tide replied, as he spewed antibiotics directly into Nurgle's mouth, causing Nurgle to howl even more.

"OH….okay" Isha said in a whisper, clinging to the corals.

Then, as if this whole mess wasn't crazy enough, Tide turned to the three minor deities sitting in the back: Ynnead, Tau'va, and the Star Child.

"Hey, guys," Tide said in a warm, welcoming voice. "Want to join my club? We have free cookies, gardening, group therapy, and we play D&D in the evenings."

The three of them looked at each other.

Ynnead, the yet-to-be-born Eldar death god, shrugged. "...Screw it. I've got nothing better to do."

Tau'va, the faint but idealistic conscience of the Greater Good of the Tau, nodded enthusiastically. "I wish I had friends!"

The Star Child, the remnants of the Emperor's hopeful vision, looked between his silent, brooding father and the warm, welcoming presence of Tide. "…Yes, all right."

The three lesser deities rose and left with Tide.

Silence.

Total, utter silence.

Even Gork and Mork stopped fighting, staring at the scene, their huge green jaws slack.

The silence was punctuated by a choking laugh until it became hysterical laughter.

Cegorach, the laughing god of the Harlequins, was rolling on the ground, practically drowning in his own joy. "This… this is the best thing I've seen in millennia" he howled, clutching his sides.

The status quo was dead.

And as Tide sailed away, a single thought echoed through the halls of the divine:

What the hell just happened?