My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 408: Act I: The End
[The Fall of the Lord of the Underworld]
The gods descended with divine might, erasing the true sinner.
Humanity and the Sea of Stars wept for Him together.
His fall marked the end of an era.
Thereafter, war blazed unceasingly.
. . .
The stars reveled, crying out in rapture. The stellar ocean trembled, bearing the pain of a wound that would never heal. The curtain billowed; from the Empyrean, a spear was hurled toward the material world—an arrow capable of twisting all fate, of restoring all things to their rightful course.
With that single strike, the sinner was executed, the galaxy shattered, and all things withered.
At that moment, the might of Chaos revealed itself, reaching its true zenith.
A breeze from beyond the veil swept through, calming the eternal winds that had been stirred. A spark of contemplation was lit; the path of thought and inquiry illuminated. A thousand shifting, treacherous ideas fused into one. The wind of the world brushed against wings, correcting the course of destiny.
Nine Feathers—the gale that corrects fate.
Bleached bones lay as vanquished beneath the throne; skulls forged into new glory. Warriors of blood and fury howled themselves hoarse. Beneath blade and spear, blood sprayed. Thus the world turned; thus civilization flourished.
Blood and bone—defying the crushing weight of the veil.
The thriving of trillions of lives, the decay of trillions more—prosperity and ruin decided in a single thought. Venom soaked the fangs; death passed in an instant.
The arrowhead gleamed, slick with glistening mucus. A fleeting radiance slid across it, reflecting seven trillion and seven hundred million deaths.
Poisoned Fang—death was his destined end.
The Dark Prince, master of exquisite martial skill, drew the bow. Slender jade-like fingers, resilient and long, curled slightly as they rested beside the sinew of dragon and serpent.
His thick lashes trembled; a gleam flashed within his eyes.
At this moment, the faint, nearly imperceptible sound of air being torn apart was the clearest sound in all the world's clamor.
It seemed as though that single whisper of breaking wind was all that remained.
With a sigh, the God-Emperor lowered His eyes calmly, veiling the flowing gold within.
Upon the savage land, the Lord of the Underworld stood upon Cadia. His pupils widened abruptly. In that final instant, his eyes reflected what he could not comprehend—
Blood spraying.
The vast shadow of ships cast low across the heavens. A geyser of darkness erupted in the distance. Within the tide of daemons exploded the hoarse roar of martyrs. The half-daemon, half-man Argel Tal was swallowed by the tide. Lorgar raised his staff—
And drove it toward his own throat.
Hades' lips parted slightly. He wanted to say something, to cry out. He still could not understand any of this. He did not yet know what they had done for him. His body leaned forward slightly, trying to reach them, to understand what had happened.
But behind him—within the blind spot of sight and soul—ten thousand strange lights converged upon a single point, piercing boundless time and space, rending countless veils—
The sound of fate breaking the air rang out.
Brilliant golden light burst forth, blazing with irrevocable resolve. In the next moment, a golden sea drowned Hades' thoughts. In the next, the faint remnant of darkness resonated with him—
A sound that tore through the dark resounded.
All things in existence trembled.
In that final instant, fate pronounced its judgment.
The ending was decided.
All things lost their color at once. The golden flash and the darkness were but a fleeting instant in ten thousand years. His world was reduced to gray and white.
Hades trembled. He trembled, and slowly lowered his head—
He saw the arrow piercing through his chest.
Hades tried to breathe, to struggle, to understand. In the end, he succeeded in nothing.
He had not yet realized that to live is to pay with everything.
And so—
He fell into that silent black.
The boundless ocean roared into towering waves. Foul, reeking mist burst from the arrow in an instant, swallowing half the vast land of Cadia. From the Empyrean came shrill cries of rage—but the fact was set, the conclusion clear.
This was not how it should have ended!
The blackstone pylons once suppressed by the Lord of the Underworld shrieked in chaotic cacophony. Bizarre arcs of lightning rose, dancing wildly in a desperate supplication for descent.
Within psychic sight, Cadia flared with a piercing brilliance; white light surged skyward. Planets near the Eye of Terror roared in answer to Cadia's scream.
Upon Cadia, jagged black ships fell toward their lord.
Amid the dense, suffocating fog upon the earth, the daemon tide rotted away in an instant. Argel Tal staggered forward. Reaching Lorgar's side, he collapsed to his knees and fell into silence.
Where everything had utterly burst apart and silent flames began to burn, Korklan lowered his head quietly, still gripping the blackstone spear in his hand, standing immovable.
"Be careful, brother. Psychic attack."
Within the Eye of Terror, a steady yet heavy voice rang through the vox. The rapidly advancing ships came to an abrupt halt, like vessels struggling against towering waves.
In the final second of the old world, the Steed and the Raven arrived at the battlefield.
They were not the focus of all eyes, nor were they a force capable of turning the world by themselves. And yet, in the end, it was they who reached this realm of chaos.
On Macragge, Guilliman gazed at the cloudless blue sky. In his blue eyes were reflected the sparrows at play.
Aboard a World Eaters warship, Angron—who had been silently watching his sons fight—suddenly rose to his feet. The corner of his eye twitched.
Beneath the sunset of Baal, in a corner unseen by others, the Angel quietly raised his hand. He wiped the corner of his mouth and saw the smear of red upon his fingers.
In the night of Nostramo, Konrad Curze let out a shrill peal of laughter.
Within a cell on Fenris, Magnus gave a near-death wail. The Crimson Sinner collapsed hoarsely to the ground, his hands helplessly covering the place where his eyes had once been.
On a vessel about to depart from Terra, the elderly man resting with closed eyes made no movement at all, like a statue.
On Terra, a thin line of blood flowed from the Emperor's lips.
He smiled, though it was closer to a bitter smile.
"At least he is still alive."
He murmured, and within his eyes flickered all that was yet to come.
Humanity can only believe in humanity.
Among the tombs of the long-departed, Trazyn stared at the Eye of Terror rampaging across the star map, muttering in disbelief:
"…Kid, at least find me a situation I can actually win. Am I that strong in your mind?"
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, Horus smiled wearily. He absently touched the ring upon his finger.
"Though there may still be disputes, I believe I will help my father govern this empire well."
On Barbarus, Mortarion strolled casually along the ridges of a field. For some inexplicable reason, the Lord of Death did not feel like reviewing documents today.
Well, he had never truly wanted to review documents.
The first raindrop fell from the boundless heavens. Mortarion raised a hand and touched his cheek. Beneath his eyes, he felt moisture.
He looked at his fingertips—the first drop of rain upon Barbarus.
It was raining.
Mortarion lifted his head, instinctively looking toward the place where that star lay.
What… happened?
And then the world answered him.
Mortarion trembled unconsciously. In his eyes burst the flash that tore the galaxy apart.
——————
Within a secret chamber, the fixed piece upon the chessboard was removed. The board trembled violently, emitting the sound of imminent fracture. The pieces atop it shook and rattled.
Crack
With a thunderous sound, the chessboard split cleanly in two.
The low, whispering laughter of Chaos echoed loudly through the empty chamber, as if mocking his folly—even though Their plan had not been fully realized.
The Emperor lowered His gaze, neither sorrowful nor joyful. The golden radiance that had earlier dispersed began to gather once more, drawn back by faith.
Centered upon the Eye of Terror, a vast tide of psychic power crashed into the material world. Most of the Obscurus Segmentum and the Ultima Segmentum fell into the domain of the Empyrean.
Upon the fallen map, the Dark Angels, the Emperor's Children, the Night Lords, the Sons of Horus, and the Blood Angels—along with half the Imperium—plunged into the endless madness of night.
On the other side of the Eye of Terror, the White Scars and the Raven Guard were ordered to the battlefield.
Tzeentch suddenly raised His voice in exalted chant. The Changer of Ways offered His great power.
The strength of the other half of the boundless ocean gathered at once. This arrow had its own target—an arrow forged of converging psychic force. From Cadia, it shot straight toward Terra.
After an unknowable span of time, the Astronomican went dark.
Upon Cadia, Hades knelt half-bowed in silence, as though mourning what would come next—
The fate of mankind.
The river of fate, violently forced back upon itself, began to surge in raging torrents, striving to return to its proper course. Chaos shrieked as it churned the waters—such a costly opportunity must not be abandoned!
On the dark side of the Imperium, across countless human worlds, those who upheld the Imperial Truth witnessed the collapse of their reality.
The shattering of belief erupted within the Warp as countless thoughts exploded outward, swiftly forming new tides. The Chaos that had earlier waned now began to swell with terrifying speed.
The Ruinous Powers laughed and howled. They hurled their mocking declaration of war toward the Emperor and toward mankind, displaying the battle overturned in an instant. Fate had returned to Their grasp; Their previous discomfiture had been nothing more than a fleeting concession before a greater triumph.
And yet—even if myriad stars had fallen—
Those souls once redeemed and purified now radiated boundless light.
They would illuminate this endless night, proving that what had been fought for before could not so easily be erased or denied.
. . .
[Barbarus]
Mortarion lifted his head. Torrential rain streamed down his face. Within his golden eyes still burned the scar that had pierced the entire galaxy.
Softly—his voice faint, as though from the dead—he spoke:
"Hades… is this the future you foresaw?"
Shock, grief, and an unyielding battle-will surged through Mortarion's soul.
The Lord of Death tightened his grip upon his scythe.
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