---o---
In the Warp, upon his Brass Throne in the realm of Khorne, the Blood God was savoring the endless slaughter unfolding beneath him.
And then —
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"
A voice rang out. Completely familiar. Khorne paid it no mind at first — across the burning galaxy, how many throats had screamed those words since the first age of war?
But this particular voice gave Khorne pause.
It carried something he had not felt in a very long time — a total, absolute fearlessness. The kind that did not even flinch at the Blood God himself.
That sensation dragged a memory up from somewhere ancient. The last time his heart had stirred like this.
Sanguinius. The Emperor's perfect son. The Great Angel in flawless gold.
If the Emperor had ever been willing to hand Sanguinius over to him, Khorne would have happily stabbed the other three Chaos Gods in the back without a second thought.
Rogal Dorn. The guardian of the Palace of Terra. A will like bedrock, unbreakable by any force — an existence that made even Khorne's mouth water.
But wait —
Why was it Angron coming to mind now?
In that single instant Khorne thought of many things. Across all this time, after everything — he had finally felt it again. That tremor in the chest.
"WHO IS THAT!!!"
Khorne swung his gaze toward the source immediately — and then he saw it.
A flash of blue.
"TZEENTCH!!!"
In that instant the Blood God's fury ignited. He had not seen the warrior who had called to him. Obviously Tzeentch was behind this. Tzeentch had killed his warrior through some web of scheming and deceit.
Unfortunately, the barrier around that particular world was still far too solid. Even he could not simply reach through it and do whatever he wanted.
So Khorne did the next best thing: he sent his blessing down to every single one of his followers currently in that battle.
He even modulated the output carefully — enough to empower them without pushing them all the way into becoming Chaos Spawn.
"GO KILL TZEENTCH'S PEOPLE! ALL OF YOU!!!"
The Blood God's roar rolled across the Warp.
---o---
And on the other side — in the Lower Hive of Aestia's hive city:
Khorne's newly-blessed and furious faithful. A Genestealer army. Tzeentchian cultists.
And the very angry Dark Mechanicum — who had decided the Thousand Sons sorcerer had stolen their Titan — alongside an Iron Warriors force that was equally convinced the missing brothers and the recent explosion were all Tzeentch's fault.
All of them, simultaneously, in the Lower Hive, at very close range, in complete chaos.
Up in the Middle Hive, every single defender had ceased fire.
They were staring at the scene below with their mouths open.
"What has 010 Omega done?"
Inquisitor Chris, holding the front line, watched the spectacle below with the exact same expression. As an officially sanctioned Psyker of the Imperium, he had to be here personally — the Thousand Sons sorcerer's destructive potential was simply too great to leave unchecked. He had even made his peace with dying for the Emperor if it came to it.
And then the entire situation dissolved into this.
"Did that priest talk someone into a breakdown again...?"
Among the dozen-odd Astartes present, Qin Meng — the most senior of them — offered this assessment with genuine uncertainty. He still had vivid memories of Zhou Ye disassembling the Thousand Sons sorcerer's composure with three sentences. He had come to the private conclusion that the real reason this priest had been stripped of his standing was simply that his mouth was an instrument of mass destruction and he had made far too many enemies with it.
"By the Throne — isn't this kind of internal collapse usually what happens to the Imperium's side?"
The Planetary General stared at the Lower Hive with slightly glazed eyes.
He had been operating under a slight conceptual error — the idea that the situation was the Imperium versus the Four Chaos Gods, a one-against-four scenario. In reality, it was always one-against-one-against-one-against-one-against-one. The mutual hatred between Chaos factions vastly exceeded anything they felt toward the Imperium.
Common enough in practice. But regardless —
Whether it was the Planetary Governor, the Planetary General, the Inquisitor, or the White Scars riders — every single one of them had developed a profound, speechless respect for the Tech-Priest designated 010 Omega.
---o---
Meanwhile, in the void above Aestia — aboard a Blood Ravens Battle Barge.
A group of Space Marines in red armor with white shoulder plates were exchanging deeply complicated looks with each other.
"So. Someone took a Gene-seed from us. A suit of Power Armor. And a Dreadnought!!!"
The Blood Ravens Captain's expression was a work of art. They were usually on the other end of this arrangement — it was always the Blood Ravens doing the acquiring. Today, someone had acquired from them.
They weren't naive about who. But they had also, in fairness, personally acquired two relics from that same individual — an ancient Toaster of remarkable antiquity and a Coffee Machine of considerable historical significance. So they were prepared to call that a reasonable exchange.
The Dreadnought, however...
The problem was that there was genuinely no one inside it. A completely pure A.I. — no words for it.
If the other party had simply used the chassis and discarded the sarcophagus, that would be one thing. But if they opened it and had a look...
Just picturing it made everyone's expression go rather interesting.
But just then —
"Aestia hive city compromised. Navigator possessed. Come immediately."
"Right, go support Aestia first."
The Captain weighed it briefly and decided the mission took priority. They could always see about recovering something from the situation once they arrived.
---o---
Inside the Thousand-Person Theater.
"Finally. Done."
Zhou Ye let out a long breath as he looked at the Warhound Titan running cleanly in front of him.
Getting that thing sorted had taken everything he had. But right now was not the time to deploy it anyway. Even if it wasn't a Warlord-class, showing up with a fully operational Titan and not a single Skitarii escort to go with it would raise questions he didn't want to answer.
More to the point — the whole Lower Hive was currently deep in the middle of a Grand Clusterfuck. Bringing the Titan out now would almost certainly paint a target on his back from every direction simultaneously.
As it stood, the situation down there was already completely resolved as far as he was concerned.
"Let the hive city people sort it out themselves. I'm going tomb raiding."
He shoved the thought aside and slipped out of the Thousand-Person Theater. He glanced once at the Lower Hive — still very much on fire — and decided there was no need to rush over. He'd already extracted the exact location from the Planetary Governor's memory. The tomb wasn't going anywhere.
By his estimate, this Grand Clusterfuck would keep churning for another few days on its own momentum. And even without his involvement, they'd most likely hold.
Given that, what exactly did he have to worry about?
Tomb Raider Mode: activated.
---o---
He arrived quickly.
"This should be it. Let's see — a Necron tomb. But it's a technological construct, so if it's technology..."
He looked at the entrance.
"Erosion — start!!!"
He dissolved the door with minimal ceremony and let it swing open, clearing out the primitive defensive constructs along the path as he went.
"Doesn't look like a particularly large Dynasty..."
He muttered under his breath as he moved deeper in. The mindless basic Necron infantry held no interest for him — what he needed was the sleeping chamber of whoever ruled this tomb.
Fortunately this wasn't a major Dynasty.
So —
"Found it. Still sleeping... hm. Actually, I just had a bold idea!!!"