What in the actual hell is going on? This is clearly the Warhammer universe, not the Three-Body universe — there aren't supposed to be any 'Sophons' crashing the party.
Fortunately, this was purely a Nyx-brained realisation. The issue stemmed from some fundamental incompatibility between the laws of the material universe and Nyx's own power.
His Magnetic Field Rotation, when combined with standard physical laws, should have produced a '1+1=2' effect. Instead, he was getting '1+1<2'.
Nyx's Magnetic Field Rotation and the physical laws of the Warhammer universe were like two codebases written in entirely different programming languages. They sort of worked together — but only just barely, and with catastrophic inefficiency.
"Damn it! Who patched such a massive bug into the physical universe?!"
"It feels... as if the laws of physics have been deliberately fractured..."
Fractured?
At this thought, Nyx suddenly recalled a certain pair of 'tragic tangerines' well-known within Warhammer lore — the C'tan and the Necrons.
His memory of the specific details regarding these 'ill-fated mandarin ducks' was somewhat hazy. Yet Nyx distinctly recalled that the C'tanwere, in essence, embodiments of the physical laws of the material universe.
However, beings as mighty as the C'tan had long since been shattered into fragments, scattered across the galaxy. Some had even been captured, compressed, and... squeezedfor energy.
So... do I need to absorb the shards of the C'tan in order to restore my power?
Nyx entertained this notion with genuine seriousness. He concluded that, while theoretically viable, at this stage it remained a distant, improbable hope.
The vast majority of known C'tan shards were already... affiliated. The only unaffiliated shard he could conceivably access was the Dragon of Mars — the Void Dragon — sealed beneath the Red Planet by the Emperor himself.
This prompted Nyx to recall a certain medieval dragon-slaying legend. It was said there was once a knight in full plate armour, bearing a lance, who had crushed a dragon with a single blow.
Regarding this knight — who had never explicitly confirmed his identity as the Emperor — Nyx could not suppress a silent, cynical commentary:
"Just keep insisting you're not a god, why don't you? His Majesty's mouth is as stubborn as that bluebird's."
His personal research appeared to have reached a temporary terminus. What came next...
Contemplating what came next, the corners of Nyx's mouth could not help but curl upward. He could scarcely wait to commence his Little South...
BOOM——!
A colossal impact slammed into Nyx. His entire body was launched across the chamber like a ballistic shell, punching clean through the adamantium-reinforced wall. Every bone in his frame felt as if it had been shattered inch by inch.
"Who... WHO?!" Nyx spat. "How dare you ambush me?!"
"Do you not know my father is the Emperor?!"
He dragged himself upright, prepared to deliver a blistering tirade — only to find himself staring at a figure wreathed in blazing golden radiance.
Nyx immediately suppressed all traces of belligerence and adopted an expression of profound filial piety.
"Cease your feigned death. Raise your head."
The golden figure's voice was majestic, low, and brooked no disobedience. Nyx snapped to attention immediately, abandoning all pretence of mortal injury.
"I must confess, Nyx — I did not anticipate this." The Emperor's tone betrayed neither pleasure nor anger. "Your aptitude for biological engineering is... considerable."
"Heh heh. Merely a modest inheritance from my father—"
"Silence, wretch!" The Emperor's voice crackled with psychic static. "Was that praise?!"
"The 'Little South Adepta Sororitas'... The very utterance of such a designation is blasphemy!"
BOOM——!
Another psychically-compacted pressure wave slammed into Nyx, propelling him back into the freshly Nyx-shaped crater in the adamantium wall. His heart was a maelstrom of silent, tearless lamentation.
First Tzeentch, now the Emperor. Why are all these VIPs suddenly so idle? What is this, a networking event for cosmic heavy-hitters, and I'm the designated punchbag?!
Y'know what, Emperor? Your attitude lately? I could just about vote for—
"Oh?!"
The golden luminescence in the Emperor's eyes surged. Nyx immediately and thoroughlypurged all dangerous ideation from his higher cognitive functions. He had no desire to stage a live-action rendition of 'The Emperor Regrets Nothing: Filicide Edition'.
"Ahem... Might I enquire as to the purpose of my father's esteemed visitation?" He cautiously pried himself from the wall, maintaining an expression of utmost respectability.
"The Imperial Expedition Fleets... They are nearly prepared."
Until the Emperor departed, Nyx resolved to entertain not a single additional unorthodox thought.
"The Expedition Fleets were projected to reach Nostramo within one standard year. I have come because I detected the activities of the blue-feathered imbecile."
The blue-feathered imbecile?
Observing the unspoken, instinctual rapport between father and son — their mutual adoption of deeply disrespectful nomenclature for Tzeentch — Nyx concluded that this was, indeed, a genuine biological phenomenon.
"Your growth has exceeded my projections. I have observed your efforts." The Emperor placed his hand upon Nyx's head. His expression was so gentle, so benevolent — one could scarcely credit that this was the same entity who, moments prior, had enthusiastically redecorated the wall with his son's face.
So... warm. His Majesty truly does possess an undeniable masculine charisma. It almost makes one wish to offer him everything—
BUZZ——!
A golden wave — not the Emperor's own — rippled through the void. The corona of faith behind Nyx's head erupted.
Wait... This sensation... This is exactly what the Captain experiences when he looks at me!
"YOU—! Old Man Yellow! You dare use your charisma aura on me?!"
He had always heard the old entity possessed ten thousand faces. He now understood — the more he gazed upon the Emperor's countenance, the more he found himself wishing to be thoroughly deceived by him—
BOOM——!
Nyx was introduced to the wall for a third time. This time, his throat flooded with copper; a thin trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.
"I'm going! Can you let me explain?! I'm your own son, not some... some heretic paralysed atop a brass toilet!"
URK——!
Nyx's vocalisations were forcibly sealed by the Emperor's psychic might. His entire body was hoisted aloft by golden energies, suspended in the air like a roasting fowl, utterly powerless.
"You still recognise that you are my son?" The Emperor's voice was low, barely restrained wrath simmering beneath each syllable. "Shouting the names of those four Vacant Ones in your heart and at your lips all day — do you genuinely believe they cannot hear you?"
"Especially the hemiplegic... upon the Brass Toilet."
Even the Emperor halted mid-phrase. He did not fear the taboo — yet even he had not anticipated that Nyx would corrupt him so swiftly, drawing him into the same unseemly candour.
Nyx... You are far more 'exceptional' than I had anticipated...
"In any case, remember this, Nyx. This world has become a target. Do not casually invoke those four Wastes."
"Moreover. I have observed the transformation in Curze. You have done well."
URK——!
Though his mouth remained sealed, Nyx's expression radiated such triumphant smugness that the Emperor's countenance darkened further.
Where in the Emperor's name did this boy acquire such an insufferable personality?
"In short. I trust you will continue to assist Curze. Do not permit those four Nullities any opportunity to restore him to his original trajectory."
"I am aware you wish to enquire why I do not intervene personally."
"But I have already intervened. Repeatedly. Were I to press further, the four Vacant Ones would possess sufficient pretext to manifest in person — or, more accurately, one of the hemiplegic Wastes has already arrived."
"Remember... Remember this, Nyx. You and Curze are brothers — not... Do not permit him to face... alone."
The Emperor's words grew increasingly fragmented. His form grew translucent, insubstantial. He knew his time here was at an end.
Before he faded entirely, he cast one final, profound gaze upon Nyx. His eyes held a complexity of emotions Nyx could not fully decipher — yet, in the instant of his complete dissolution, Nyx read the final sentiment in the Emperor's gaze:
Trust.
The Emperor believed that Nyx could alter Curze's fate — even if he himself could not.
"Emperor... Old Man Huang... Old Deng?!"
Only after repeated, cautious verification did Nyx finally confirm that the Emperor had, in fact, actually departed.
He surveyed his surroundings. His subterranean laboratory — once vaunted as impregnable — was now a complete catastrophe zone. Both a Chaos God and the Emperor Himself had demonstrated their ability to come and go as they pleased.
And, most critically of all——
My Little South Adepta Sororitas Reformation Programme!!