Though its outward appearance remained unchanged, Titus felt an instinctive shift in the loathsome xenos before him. A primal dread, thick and suffocating as a stagnant mire, welled up within him.
The Skaven Warlord, Hezar, stood tall upon the back of his Bonebreaker. His hunched frame seemed to dilate in the eyes of the Space Marines, growing impossibly vast and terrifying. Even the Bonebreaker beneath him, a mountain of warped and stitched muscle, trembled, shuddering as if it dared not draw a single errant breath in the presence of the entity now inhabiting its master.
Titus had faced and banished a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, yet the sheer, malevolent psychic weight radiating from this rat-man filled him with a cold, hollow despair.
Hezar leveled his warp-power sword at Titus. "Come, Titus... do not disappoint me. If you can provide me with sufficient amusement, your battle-brothers may yet draw breath. Fail, and I shall devise a punishment for you of... exquisite creativity."
The rat's stuttering, high-pitched rasp was gone. In its place was a voice of silk and iron, the tone of a bored master toying with his subjects.
"Xenos, you die here!" Metaurus roared. His psychic sensitivity was low; though he sensed the creature had been possessed, it changed nothing. Whether the rat was a puppet for a daemon or a god, his duty remained the same.
Metaurus fired a searing bolt of plasma at Hezar even as he charged the Bonebreaker, intent on meeting the beast in a contest of raw strength. The Bonebreaker reacted with instinctual ferocity to protect its rider. The Moulder-bred monstrosity, its muscles as dense as ceramite, swung its flaying-gauntlets with a speed that defied its massive bulk, swatting the Astartes aside.
"Lord Titus, we strike together!" Gadriel cried out. He laid down a covering hail of bolt shells before activating his jump pack, soaring through the air with his blade held high to cleave Hezar in twain.
Lucius had not merely possessed Hezar; he had seized the rat's soul and puppeted the meat. His essence remained anchored in the Immaterium, where he utilized the malevolent craftsmanship of the Forge of Souls to fashion a keyboard and mouse from the quintessence of blood, fire, and spirit. Sitting upon his Throne of Ruins, the Great Horned Rat was playing a high-stakes simulation.
"Heh, entertaining." Controlling Hezar, Lucius raised a triangular shield to deflect the plasma and bolt rounds. He ignored the two "supporting characters," focusing entirely on his protagonist.
With a supernatural leap, Hezar landed fifteen meters from Titus, leaving the Bonebreaker to stall the other two Space Marines.
Titus stared at the creature. It was a vile xenos in form, yet it radiated the abyssal horror of the deep Warp. "What are you?" he asked, his voice heavy. "Alien... or daemon?"
"Heh heh heh… I am merely a player," the Warlord replied. The rat's black power armor creaked as its body straightened. At three meters tall and infused with stolen gene-seed, the rat now stared Titus directly in the eye. "And you, your company, your Chapter, the very galaxy itself, are but my game."
Titus drew a deep, ragged breath. He roared through bared teeth: "The Light of the Emperor and the Light of Macragge are with me! FORWARD!!"
Titus lunged, his chainsword, decorated with the Aquila and holy purity seals, roaring with the hum of its disruption field. Hezar's power sword met the strike with perfect fluidity. With every parry, the rat flicked the chainsword aside, following up with lightning-fast counter-thrusts.
Titus could scarcely believe it. The xenos was not only parrying every blow but doing so with effortless contempt.
"Heh heh... here, the Emperor cannot save you. His light does not reach the sunless depths!" Hezar cackled. He swung his triangular shield like a great sickle, forcing Titus into a desperate retreat.
"Ugh—!" Titus attempted a backhanded parry, but the rat's strength was astronomical. A jolt of agonizing pain flared through his arm as the shield slammed into it like a hydraulic press. His ceramite gauntlet shattered like glass.
"You disappoint me, Titus." A look of disdainful triumph crossed the rat's face. Hezar delivered a snap-kick to Titus's chest, sending the three-meter transhuman giant flying. Titus slammed into a reinforced metal bulkhead, denting the structure half a meter deep.
"Yaah!" Gadriel roared, rolling beneath a fist from the Bonebreaker and lunging at Hezar's exposed back.
Without looking, the Warlord spun, slamming the hilt of his warp-sword into Gadriel's face. The Astartes was hurled backward, his helm shattered and face a mask of gore.
"Gadriel!" Titus bellowed. He tried to rise, but his mangled arm couldn't even grip his sword. His internal organs were hemorrhaging; the "game" was nearing its end.
"Heh heh... let me think. Shall I let you pass to the next level? Or are you hoping for a 'cutscene save'? Are you waiting for someone to snatch you from the jaws of death, just as you escaped the Tyranids during your time in the Deathwatch?"
The Skaven Warlord paced back and forth, recounting Titus's history with gleeful accuracy, mocking him like a cat toying with a broken mouse.
"I have no interest... in the lies of xenos!"
Titus did not waver. He did not understand the concept of a "cutscene," nor did he care. He used a tattered prayer-scroll from his chest to bind his chainsword to his ruined hand. He stood again, unbowed and towering.
"Second round, xenos. Come!"
Lucius's eyes gleamed with delight. "Magnificent. Let us see when your cinematic trigger arrives!"
As Hezar lunged, Titus poured every ounce of his transhuman will into a counter-strike, a roar tearing from his throat: "FOR THE EMPEROR!!!"
In that instant, a blinding shroud of golden light erupted from Titus. His shattered armor mended, his broken bones fused, and his flagging spirit was bolstered by a divine radiance.
"What?!" Lucius was caught off guard. His blade met Titus's in a clash that shook the chamber, the two now locked in a stalemate of absolute power.
Titus stood like a man of living stone. He began to walk forward, forcing the rat back step by step.
"Damn it... I forgot about you, Emperor!" Lucius hissed. He was startled, but quickly replaced the shock with excitement. The game had just received a difficulty patch.
"I am his cutscene... I hope you are satisfied." Titus's eyes blazed with golden fire. He spoke with the calm, detached cadence of a saint, his voice devoid of mortal emotion.
"I am very satisfied! Let us test this new build!" Hezar laughed, dancing back with a flurry of steel. But Titus pressed the advantage, his strikes a relentless, golden blur that left the Warlord no room to breathe.
The rat's body, even with the gene-seed, could not sustain the level of power Titus was now channeling. Lucius felt the physical vessel beginning to tear apart under the strain of the Emperor's light.
Titus seized his opening. His chainsword punched through Hezar's chest. In an explosion of holy energy, Lucius's consciousness was violently purged from the rat's body. The Warlord's eyes widened, filling with a final, pathetic terror.
"Agh... No... no-no... G-Great Horned One... King of Many Tails...!"
Hezar coughed up a spray of black bile before Titus silenced him forever with a bolt round to the skull. The three Astartes then fell upon the Bonebreaker, hacking the monster into a heap of dead meat.
Metaurus stared at Titus and Gadriel, both miraculously restored, his face a mask of awe. "By the Throne... a miracle of the God-Emperor."
Titus exhaled sharply, the golden light fading. He felt nothing of the possession, assuming only that his inner strength had reached a new zenith in the Emperor's name.
"Move out," Titus commanded, his voice heavy with the weight of the ordeal. "This is far from over." He ordered Gadriel to recover and then incinerate the corrupted gene-seed within the monsters before the skaven swarm could reclaim the chamber.
…
In the Immaterium, Lucius leaned back, pushing his "keyboard" away. He glanced toward the distant, frozen golden sun. "Heh. Now that is entertainment. Come, Corpse-God, let us play the long game."
"Ah... how delightful. May I join in?" A slow, gurgling voice echoed. Nurgle, the Grandfather, had taken notice.
Immediately, a roar of bloodthirsty rage and a sibilant, androgynous whisper joined the chorus.
"Hahaha! A game with the Cursed One? Rare indeed, Little Rat! Let my warriors taste the steel, or I shall tear your warrens asunder!" Khorne bellowed.
"Oh, my dear... you truly are a blessing. Letting you join the Great Game was an inspired choice. You won't mind if I add a little... flair to your next level, will you?" Slaanesh purred.
Lucius looked at the three shifting colors appearing in the sky of his domain and narrowed his eyes. These gods are truly bored, he thought.