Within the Warp, in the Palace of Slaanesh, nestled in the heart of the most decadent core of the Six Circles, depravities both imaginable and inconceivable to mortal minds played out at every moment.
The androgynous Daemonettes of Slaanesh toyed with the souls of hopelessly addicted mortals through deceit and obsession; or, should the whim strike them, these daemons might reverse their roles entirely. Just as the rot-germs coexist in harmony within Nurgle's Garden, or as blood and skulls are spilled before the Brass Throne, and as ceaseless schemes are plotted within the Crystal Labyrinth, this was the mundane reality of the Realm of Pleasure.
Slumped upon the throne with a look of utter dejection was the Dark Prince, Slaanesh Himself. At this moment, not even the most silver-tongued or sycophantic Slaaneshi daemon dared to flaunt their talents before a master so visibly foul-tempered. The grim fate of the Masque was a fresh and cautionary tale; thus, after receiving only a bored, disinterested glance for their cruel yet magnificent performances, the daemonic entertainers slunk away in shame.
"My Lord... here is a new program for Your delight..." a Daemonette knelt before the Dark Prince, introducing the piece with trepidation. On a massive screen woven from pulsating, decadent flesh, a "moving picture" began to play.
Usually, these were historical archives intended to replay the Great Victories and glorious achievements of Slaanesh. Given that Slaanesh was the youngest of the gods with a relatively sparse "family legacy," the Dark Prince often had to watch these "MVP highlights" of the past to find a modicum of comfort.
"Mmm..." Slaanesh gave a languid nod. Recently, the failure to seize Isha, the defeat in battle against the Great Horned Rat – failure after failure in every endeavor – had driven the Dark Prince to the depths of sullenness.
The Daemonettes hurriedly began to crank the reels, which were pressed from the viscera of the living. Accompanied by the rhythmic screams of the dying, kaleidoscopic images flickered to life.
However, the face that appeared first was not the handsome visage of Slaanesh, but the figure He had dreamed of night and day and that hateful new god who had slapped His face multiple times!
On the screen, Lucius, the Great Horned Rat, clad in black robes, held the slender waist of the beautiful Isha. Though their front appeared dignified and composed, the hand slipping behind Isha, combined with the Mother Goddess's flushed face and uncontrollable soft moans, suggested the situation was anything but simple.
Within the projection, Lucius used a finger to trace several enticing lines over Isha's full and perfectly shaped peaks. He then turned to the camera and said, "Watch closely. This is how Isha is meant to be used!"
Lucius seemed to exert sudden pressure with his hand. Isha's dignified expression instantly shattered, replaced by a writhing display of twisted pleasure.
" I... huff... Isha has lost to the Great Horned Rat~ Yay~"
Then, Lucius lifted Isha and tossed her onto the lost cloud-bed of Asuryan within the Aeldari Pantheon. Several Verminherder daemons pulled a thin veil of gauze across the scene. The empyrean power infused into the silk was so potent that even Slaanesh could not see the specific details within.
Thus, the Dark Prince, Slaanesh Himself, could only watch those two intertwined shadows shifting in various positions, yet never truly seeing them clearly.
Hiss—!
Upon seeing this, the soul of the Daemonette in charge of the projection nearly fled her body in terror. Worse still, a triangular throwing star, the mark of Clan Eshin, appeared in the projection room, proving that the Skaven had already paid a visit.
Such a terrifying security breach harked back to the days when the Changeling sneaked into the Palace to snip Slaanesh's hair and toss His favorite golden apple into Nurgle's Garden to rot.
In an instant, a terrifying aura blanketed the entire Palace of Slaanesh. The daemons, once lost in their revelries, ceased their pleasures and looked toward their Master's direction with faces full of dread.
There was no doubt. Their Master was enraged...
"Too much... how dare he humiliate me so!"
Slaanesh ground His teeth in fury, yet His eyes remained fixed upon the screen. It was a strange fascination; despite being able to see nothing but suggestive shadows, His attention was utterly captivated.
Specifically, He felt a sense of powerless exhilaration, a feeling of transgression that no mortal or daemon of His own could ever provide. After all, only one Dark God can truly obstruct another.
"My Lord... Great Slaanesh, Dark Prince... we shall immediately hunt down the rats responsible! We shall tear them into ten thousand pieces!"
Taking advantage of the fact that Slaanesh had not yet fully erupted, several Keeper of Secrets knelt before the throne, striking their heads against the floor to beg for forgiveness.
"Do not turn it off yet," Slaanesh said in an androgynous voice, one that mixed fury with an ambiguous tone of enjoyment. "I wish to see what that damned rat intends to do... Bastard, I truly cannot see a thing. Is this how you use the power of Formless Distortion?"
"Ah... yes, my Lord." The Greater Daemons could only nod sheepishly.
"By the way, save this for me as a pastime. After all..." Slaanesh shifted His slender form. "After all, this is a performance personally crafted for me by a fellow god. Consider it my trophy. Inspect the projection halls more thoroughly next time; if there are more things like this, bring them to me."
"Yes, my Lord."
…
Lucius had no idea what Slaanesh was currently doing. According to his expectations, Slaanesh should have been driven mad with rage and launched an invasion. Thus, after Sneek returned from his mission, Lucius immediately ordered all daemons in the Realm of Ruin to prepare for a massive Slaaneshi assault.
However, after waiting a long time, not a single Slaaneshi soldier appeared. Instead, several waves of Khorne's legions, led by Bloodthirsters, charged in only to be annihilated by the waiting Verminlords.
Seeing no results, Lucius turned his gaze back to the Materium.
On the Shattered Star, through the combined efforts of the Aeldari heroes, Lelith Hesperax and Yvraine had managed to seize the final Cronesword, Pale Wound, from the encirclement of the Red Guard and the clutches of Queek Headtaker.
Though he was the greatest warrior of his race, a rat is, after all, a rat.
"Excellent, it is ours! The final Cronesword!" Yvraine looked at the elegant, slender bone-sword in Lelith's hand and let out a triumphant, ecstatic laugh.
"Heh, stop laughing. We are still surrounded," The Visarch said, patting Yvraine's shoulder. "We are still some distance from the Webway gate. Shall we use that?"
"Yes! We cannot fail now!" Yvraine nodded decisively and began to summon the Yncarne.
The Visarch also summoned the Avatar of Khaine once more. The appearance of two titan-scale units immediately rewrote the tactical situation. Even a Hierophant was cleaved in two by the Avatar of Khaine, and the Orkish Great Gargants were smashed like literal scrap metal. The two avatars began to screen the desperate withdrawal of Yvraine and her companions.
"NO-NO! Don't think… don't think you can run-escape, AAAAAHHHH!!" Queek howled in a frenzied rage. Though the legendary Skaven warrior had lost a hand, severed by Lelith's dagger, his madness remained unabated.
Under the command of Ska Bloodtail, a massive Skaven horde threw their lives away charging the Aeldari. The sheer density of warpstone bullets made it difficult even for these transcendent beings to parry.
However, at the critical moment, a host of Drukhari riding black jetbikes and raiders suddenly burst forth from the Webway gate.
"Come now, Yvraine... Eldrad. Lord Vect requests your presence," the leading Drukhari Archon said with a polite yet sinister smile to the fleeing Aeldari.
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