933.M30.
In the third layer of the Kingdom of Disorder, the "Mentor of Disorder" Nareth watched the threads linking him to the greatsword, floating in the grey mist, blazing with orange-red light.
With a thought, he reached out and grasped it.
Power surged through him. He swung. Explosions thundered in the realm.
Each swing was an embodied attack of Battle itself.
Each strike was more terrible than the "Mentor of Disorder's" full-powered Otsberg-Vaya blow.
The source-space's black mist was cleaved, scattering, then coalescing.
He smiled and nodded. "I now possess the finest weapon in the galaxy."
Though the Dionysian Spear was a divine artifact infused with the Emperor's power, even when he channeled all his spiritual energy into it, it was far inferior to the "Twilight Giant's" uniqueness.
Through the "link" he had established, he sensed the "Twilight Giant" possessed partial Proxy authority. Sensing he was the source's chosen, it allowed him to use some of its power.
Each swing embodied the underlying rules of Combat, Strenght, and Devastation.
"But outside, I often cannot use its full power."
The "Twilight Giant's" Dusk authority would decay and rot everything around it.
Non-Perpetual Shadows of Order would age. Even weapons and ships would decay...
The "Twilight Giant's" uniqueness was different from the "Red Priest's." He had far less control over it.
The "Twilight Giant" only had partial Proxy authority. Ritual was the "Red Priest's" primary authority.
Of the three paths to the sefirot River of Eternal Darkness, the closest to the sefirot essence was Death, the Death Pathway's uniqueness. The most similar externally was "Darkness." But the one that could slightly utilize it was the "Twilight Giant."
The Proxy authority originated here. It meant the "Twilight Giant" directly proxies the River of Eternal Darkness, and indirectly proxies other sources.
The "Red Priest" prayed to the source of power for power or projection, not limited to the City of Calamity.
The "Red Priest" walked on the edge of sefirot corruption. Any sefirot could greatly influence it.
Outside, he must use the Proxy authority to call upon the Kingdom of Disorder's power to suppress the Dusk and other authorities.
Likewise, he could not use the "Twilight Giant" to selectively modify targets like Shadows of Order.
The "Twilight Giant's" modification, like before, was instinctive, influencing the Dusk Moon directly, and Vessor indirectly.
At least until his authority over the source increased, allowing him to leverage more of its power.
'Hmm, the Vessorines will suffice for now. The new population on the Dusk Moon will come later.'
'I don't need to place the "Twilight Giant" on a planet, fearing its loss, or spend time influencing a race.'
He looked at the spinning black glass in the distance.
'At least, unlike the "Demoness," which I cannot control at all, I can use the "Twilight Giant" now.'
He withdrew his gaze, released the orange-red greatsword, and drew the gleaming longsword from his back.
Vulkan's armor had been decayed by the "Twilight Giant." He had no suitable armor, so he carried the Sword of Vaul on his back.
The Emperor had summoned a new war council for the next day. He decided to ask Ferrus.
If his promised armor was ready.
He held the Sword of Vaul before him, staring at the gleaming blade a fist's length away.
"With the 'Twilight Giant's' uniqueness, the Sword of Vaul, corresponding to Sequence 2 'Honored One,' is far less important."
Many of his subordinates flashed through his mind:
"Guardian" Thierry Viera was the most robust, physically best able to wield the Sword of Vaul.
But his psychic power came from the Kassai master-smith, limited to passive use of psychic blades.
He could not actively channel psychic power to fully use the Sword of Vaul.
The psyker Ethan, newly promoted to "Dawn Knight," could not wield it with ease, even as a two-handed greatsword.
....
No one could fully use the Sword of Vaul. He decided.
"I will not grant it for now."
He released the Sword of Vaul, his companion since 819.
The divine weapon forged by Vaul, the Aeldari god of the forge, one of only ninety-nine "Hundred Swords of Vaul." Retired.
With a thought, the "Red Priest's" uniqueness, which interacted with the "Demoness," appeared on his left shoulder.
He stepped back to reality.
Four standard hours later, Nelson, the Primarch's personal pilot, flew a Shadow-pattern Stormbird to Vessor's highest peak.
Techmarines had cleared a landing zone on the summit.
He looked down. Vessorine tribes, like snakes, were arrayed across the mountainside.
tribal chieftain s stood at the head of each group. Behind them stood the tribe's second-strongest, and so on.
Small tribes had less than a hundred. Large tribes nearly a thousand.
Every thirty meters, a Shadow of Order stood between tribes, separating them.
Even so, he saw the combative Vessorines waving their blades, provoking their neighbors.
"Open the hatch."
As the hatch opened with a hum, he flew out.
Etrich, only eleven meters from the summit, leaned against a black basalt boulder.
He looked down at the black-armored warriors on the peak.
His pupils widened.
'Over a thousand!'
'Nareth has this many sons?'
He instinctively denied what he saw, thinking of a thousand warriors matching him.
Pragmatic, he accepted the reality after a few seconds: Nareth, leading his sons, could quickly strike and defeat all tribes before they could unite.
Accepting this cold reality, he wondered.
'I've only fathered five. How can he have so many? He doesn't seem the type to...'
He suddenly felt something and looked up.
A black-robed, golden-winged figure appeared, as if from nowhere, as on the day of his descent.
He looked up at his marble-like face, then at the greatsword on his right shoulder, besides the banner on his left.
His movement drew attention. Vessorines looked up at the giant.
The "Mentor of Disorder" hovered above the peak, his wings beating. He spoke in Phuthu, with "Majesty."
"Vessorine warriors, you are fierce, powerful fighters."
"I wanted to hire you. But after a year with you, truly knowing you,"
"I realize you deserve more."
With a thought, black mist rose behind him, close to the banner shaft, then spreading to the greatsword.
"Your descendants will become Shadows of Order."
"You will be my blades. Like the giant eagles' talons."
CRASH!
In the Vessorines' eyes, a vague, one-eyed giant, its blue-black skin knotted, appeared behind Nareth.
THUD, THUD, THUD...
Across the mountain, the Vessorines fell to their knees. Only fourteen remained standing on the black basalt peak.
He had used the Kingdom of Disorder's power to drive the "Red Priest," then the "Twilight Giant," proxying the source's power.
The layered supernatural power drove the "Twilight Giant's" projection of its mythical form.
He could not, nor did he want to, show a clear, complete mythical form. It might drive some less steadfast-willed Vessorines mad.
He looked with satisfaction at the nearly fifty thousand Vessorines. He had saved a fortune.
Enough to build three new expeditionary fleets.
A fortune that would make even Malcador 'greedy.'
His gaze swept over the fourteen still standing. Each held a falcon short sword.
'Each Day of Decay, the blue-black giant eagles descend. Not only Etrich's ancestor, but other tribal chieftain s have also killed them.'
'I wonder if they are all negative-Omega grade.'
After testing the forty-eight thousand three hundred Vessorines, the Apothecaries found only fourteen were negative-Omega grade, required for Culexus Assassins.
Though their combat ability approached the legendary Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn's, and they were no less than Culexus Assassins, they could only instinctively suppress psychic powers. Together, they were far less effective against psykers than a single Culexus.
Wild Blanks were also inferior to the Emperor's Sisters of Silence.
Seven thousand seven hundred twenty-eight together were less than a hundred Sisters of Silence.
Etrich raised his falcon short sword, pointing at Nareth.
"You refuse to pay."
He looked at Etrich and the other thirteen, shaking his head.
"I will hire you."
"I am simply offering a new path."
"The path to becoming Shadows of Order, to fight for me."
The "Mentor of Disorder" spoke, his voice grave. "I have never failed those loyal to me."
"You will still have land and wealth."
Behind Etrich, a Sorbor shouted.
"I will be your talon!"
Shouts rose. "I will be your talon!"
He looked down at the Vessorines with satisfaction. The mercenaries the Departmento Munitorum had tried countless times to sway, who would not pledge loyalty to the Emperor-God, had submitted.
'Who says the Vessorines have no loyalty?'
Etrich and the other thirteen looked around. Their tribes, even their wives, their husbands, their children, had ignored them and pledged loyalty.
They pragmatically accepted reality.
Etrich said loudly. "You promised to give them a choice."
"Of course," the "Mentor of Disorder" said gravely. "Those who wish to be mercenaries, come to the summit. We will discuss details."
Etrich was the first to walk up. tribal chieftain s followed, suspicious.
He circled the summit, looking down.
Three minutes later, he saw only the fourteen of them.
The Vessorines still knelt on the black basalt peak.
....
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