Chapter 193: Fries, Fate, and Feelings
"Orbital bombardment and saturation strikes are useless. They can't destroy the enemy's resistance strongholds."
"How do we deal with them?" Ingo Pech asked.
"With what we do best," Alpharius said. "The Legionaries will conduct combat drops and advance from the periphery, systematically eliminating all enemy resistance."
"..."
While the military council convened, the Alpha translated from the Immaterium into realspace. The transition was flawless. Once stabilized, the warship engaged its conventional drives and set course for the target world.
Norse Planet, Utan Region.
Scorching heat blanketed the desolate Gobi. Herds of long-horned beasts thundered across the vast plains, raising clouds of dust.
Several xenos stood atop a majestic mountain range, clad in armor or robes. These beings represented different races, one was even human.
"The Twins have arrived, as fate foretold," a slender xenos spoke.
At his words, the beings turned their gaze skyward.
Tiny points of light appeared in the cloudless expanse, rapidly transforming into blazing meteors that tore through the atmosphere, trailing fire as they plummeted earthward.
Norse anti-aircraft batteries opened fire. Beams of bright energy lanced upward alongside explosive shells, but they failed to halt the descending storm.
War had come.
The Imperium of Man unleashed its wrath upon those who refused submission.
"The universe's dark fate is about to unfold," one being said. "The struggle between the Chaos Gods and the Human Empire begins here."
"Our duty is to guide. The Twins are pivotal to the war between Chaos and the Imperium."
The beings conversed, weaving plans for futures yet unwritten.
At that moment, aboard the 'Conqueror', the Raven, who had been enjoying Space Dwarf fries, suddenly froze.
The once-orderly threads of fate rippled with disturbance. A vision flashed before his eyes: Alpharius's great rebellion.
Big question marks appeared on the Raven's small head.
"Ugh! Primarchs really are the Big Guy's children. When it comes to causing trouble, they're always top-tier."
He was genuinely impressed. How could every Primarch have betrayal potential?
If he didn't cheat using his powers, the Chaos Gods would trick him to death!
The Raven sorted through the disturbed threads and traced the interference back to its source: the Cabal.
The Old Ones created the Cabal at the end of the War in Heaven to counter the out-of-control Warp. Its membership was extraordinarily diverse: Eldar and humans, mechanical life forms, energy beings, and races resembling birds, insects, and lizards.
"These guys still want to cause trouble?" The Raven's eyes narrowed. "I need to find Konrad. If I don't teach these idiots a lesson, they'll always think they can play puppet master."
He thought fondly of the little bat.
"What's wrong, Mr. Raven? Not to your taste?" Angron, who stood nearby, noticed the Raven had stopped eating. "I'll have them send fresh ones immediately."
"No need." The Raven shook his head. "I have things to do. Remember to handle the negotiations with the Space Dwarves properly. If you mess it up, don't panic, just tell me before you announce anything to Terra, and I'll help you manage the fallout."
"Rav—" Angron called out, wanting to keep him, but the Raven tore open space and vanished.
...
Visions of futures dark and manifold plagued Konrad Curze like a curse. The fragments appeared endlessly in his mind, making it impossible to distinguish reality from illusion. His consciousness was tormented, with no one to confide in.
He saw Guilliman crowned King of the Five Hundred Universe.
He saw the Lion dominate the vast Heavens.
He saw Sanguinius transformed into an Angel of Redemption, walking through despairing universes.
He saw the Emperor's radiance cover every universe where humanity existed.
He saw Master Raven tasting delicious fries from countless universes in the sanctuary Lorgar built for him.
These futures were beautiful and sacred. The Imperium embarked on a path of infinite glory where everyone could find happiness.
But alongside these visions came others, dark and desperate futures tormented by pain.
The Emperor's withered body was enthroned upon the Golden Throne.
The noble Mr. Raven lying bloodied in a mist-shrouded palace.
Sanguinius's wings torn away by an unspeakable enemy, his noble face shattered.
The Lion's body sprawled in a dark abyss, crimson blood flowing like waterfalls.
Battle-worn Angron losing his sanity, fighting like a machine on a battlefield without end.
The loss of both Emperors plunged countless Imperial citizens into despair and suffering. Without the Emperor's guidance and the Primarchs' leadership, the Imperium became something extreme and terrible. Fanatics burned universe after universe, driven solely by revenge and conquest.
These visions troubled the Night Haunter deeply. Who could he tell? The Imperium was thriving; who would believe such a dark fate awaited them?
The bell rang, signaling the Nightfall's emergence from the Warp. Another conquest awaited.
Konrad Curze rose and left his quarters. His room was an empty steel cage, devoid of comfort, utterly incompatible with his station as Primarch. But he was satisfied.
This room was his refuge from illusion. When the pain grew too intense, he would strike his head against the solid walls to find relief.
The heavy door opened with a hiss of gas.
"Lord Primarch."
"Primarch."
The warriors waiting outside saluted. Curze walked past them without expression, heading directly to the strategium.
The Eighth Legion still had conquests to complete. Even exhausted by visions, Konrad had to fulfill Terra's mandates. The Imperium needed to unify this sector and advance toward the wider Heavens.
The future he saw was filled with despair, but the Imperium had to move forward.
The warriors followed closely. They were long accustomed to their Primarch's coldness; he seemed never to smile, cold as a statue. Many times, they doubted whether he possessed human emotions at all.
Just then the space in front of them suddenly tore open, and the Raven leaped through.
The warriors immediately adopted defensive stances, some raising bolters. Recognizing the visitor, they lowered their weapons and saluted.
"Lord Raven."
"Lord Raven."
Konrad stared in surprise at the Raven, who had landed on his shoulder. His mind seemed to crash, blank, and unable to form words.
"Little bat," the Raven said cheerfully, swaying his head. "How have you been lately? I heard from Malcador that you scared a group of Dark Eldar so badly they wet themselves a while ago."
Surprise flashed across Konrad's face before he regained composure, though the happiness in his eyes betrayed him.
He turned to the warrior beside him. "Bring the new fry flavors and ketchup we've collected recently."
The warrior nodded.
"Oh yeah, is that Sevatar?" The Raven peered at the warrior, recognizing him.
Jago Sevatarion was First Captain of the Eighth Legion. His prowess, like Abaddon's, Sigismund's, and Corswain's, placed him in the first tier below the Primarchs during the Great Crusade.
Since Konrad was... administratively disinclined, Sevatar served as the Legion's de facto commander, a powerful psyker who concealed his abilities.
If someone told Mortarion, "Let me see the true Legion Master," Mortarion would have a breakdown.
If someone said that to Konrad? He'd shrug and call Sevatar over.
Sevatar himself was a character. What normal person was the first to shout "Death to the False Emperor!" and then later surrender when things got rough?
His signature style: dramatic declarations followed by practical decisions.
"Yes, Master Raven. I am Jago Sevatarion, First Captain of the Night Lords Legion."
Sevatar's pale face broke into a brilliant smile. He hadn't expected one of the Imperium's supreme rulers to know his name.
[End of Chapter]
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