Far beyond the reach of mortal sight, deep within the Immaterium.
In the domain of Slaanesh, the Palace of Pleasure.
This realm was composed of six concentric circular sub-domains, nested within each other, drawing closer to the core from the outside in.
Each ring was infinitely more dangerous and infinitely more seductive than the last.
To reach Slaanesh, one had to traverse all six rings consecutively.
But the vast majority of souls were lost forever along the way.
The First Circle: The Circle of Avidity.
Upon stepping into this circle, one was greeted by an endless expanse of dazzling treasures. Mountains of gemstones and oceans of gold paved the earth.
Every single jewel sparkled with an unearthly radiance.
Lost artifacts of ancient civilizations, the crowns of long-extinct species, even holy relics misplaced by the Emperor Himself, were scattered carelessly across the ground.
Every single treasure here was absolutely real—and absolutely lethal.
Slaanesh tested the true hearts of intruders with endless wealth.
The very instant the desire to possess arose, they would be cursed.
Their souls would be trapped in this circle for eternity, becoming mere decorations in the Circle of Avidity, amusing Slaanesh with their insatiable, unending greed.
The Second Circle: The Circle of Gluttony...
The Third Circle: The Circle of Carnality...
The Fourth Circle: The Circle of Paramountcy...
The Fifth Circle: The Circle of Vainglory...
The Sixth Circle: The Circle of Indolency...
Once a soul managed to traverse all six circles, they would arrive at the true core of Slaanesh's domain: the Palace of Pleasure.
As for the palace itself, mortal languages were entirely inadequate to describe its true form.
Every single observer saw a completely different spectacle.
Some saw Gothic spires constructed entirely of living, breathing flesh.
Some saw geometric structures woven purely from raw light and sound.
Some saw the ultimate, absolute sanctuary they had yearned for their entire lives.
There was only one absolute, undeniable truth:
The instant any mortal witnessed the center of the palace and gazed upon Slaanesh's true form, they would immediately lose their soul, willingly becoming an eternal slave to the Dark Prince.
It wasn't coercion; it was entirely voluntary.
Because in that exact moment, the mortal had witnessed the absolute origin of ultimate beauty, and could no longer bear an existence apart from it.
At the very core of the Palace of Pleasure.
Before them lay a throne that defied all description.
It was both the flesh of living creatures and the brilliance of crystal.
The left side featured the hard, chiseled lines of a male form, while the right side displayed the soft, delicate curves of a female figure.
Countless twisted faces were embedded within its structure, their expressions an eternal, agonizing mix of pain and absolute ecstasy as they stared out at everything before them.
Below the throne flowed a river of silver blood.
Any entity that touched this river would experience an ultimate, overwhelming euphoria that completely transcended death.
Then, in that exact instant, their soul would be entirely dissolved, becoming a permanent part of this realm.
Upon the throne.
A figure sat regally.
Its right half was a flawless female form, with soft, supple curves and skin as pale as snow. Every single inch radiated a maddening, intoxicating allure.
Its left half was a robust, muscular male form, defined by hard lines and chiseled definition. Every muscle exuded a raw, dominant power that surpassed all physical limits.
Two pairs of curved horns sprouted from its long golden hair, the sweeping arcs angled so perfectly they looked like a divine masterpiece of art.
And those two eyes—each one reflected the entirety of the galaxy.
They reflected every single soul currently experiencing pleasure, agony, longing, or satisfaction.
Any mortal who looked directly into those eyes would instantly lose their soul.
Because this beauty vastly exceeded the absolute limits of what physical law could bear.
It was the amalgamation of every living creature's most secret desires, the fusion of the deepest cravings within every single soul.
This was Slaanesh.
The Prince of Pleasure.
The Dark Prince.
The Chaos God whose very name made mortals and deities alike pale in terror.
Right now, Slaanesh leaned against the armrest of the throne, those galaxy-reflecting eyes narrowed slightly.
Its right hand—the flawless female hand.
Gently tapped against the armrest.
With every single tap, countless souls in some corner of the galaxy shrieked as they dissolved into nothingness.
"An anomaly."
It spoke.
The voice was like silk sliding across a razor's edge—both agonizingly gentle and absolutely lethal.
It carried both the deep resonance of a male and the melodic cadence of a female.
Every single syllable directly stimulated the sensory nerves of anyone who heard it, making the listener spiral into madness amidst their intoxication, and dissolve completely within that madness.
"The anomaly the Changer of Ways spoke of."
In Slaanesh's eyes, two distinct scenes were reflected.
In the first scene stood a man with long white hair, a flawless face, and wearing purple and gold power armor.
He was standing in a grand hall decorated with purple curtains, gripping a sword that radiated a pink-purple glow.
Fulgrim.
Its prey.
Its masterpiece.
The perfect toy it was about to add to its collection.
The second scene took place back inside that temple.
In front of that altar.
In the exact instant the Blade of the Laer was about to be grasped.
A silver-grey figure had rushed the altar ahead of Fulgrim.
In that split second, those dark golden eyes had made contact with the power It had left slumbering within the blade.
And then, that power was violently repelled.
Slaanesh narrowed its eyes slightly. Deep within its pupils reflected the blinding light that had erupted from that silver-grey figure.
That light, that authority, had instantly formed an invisible barrier, completely shutting out the power It had poured into the sword, preventing It from eroding that body.
"Hope... Compassion..." Slaanesh's whispers echoed through the Palace of Pleasure, intertwining with the flowing sounds of the silver river of blood. "Whose power is this? To actually dare interfere with my corruption of Fulgrim."
It furrowed its brow—a frown beautiful enough to drive countless mortals insane.
It remembered the words the Changer of Ways had spoken not long ago.
There will be an anomaly. At specific nodes, entities that do not belong to this universe will attempt to alter the established trajectory.
At the time, Slaanesh hadn't cared.
An anomaly?
In this galaxy woven together by the four Chaos Gods, what anomaly could possibly matter?
But now... It saw more.
On that silver-grey figure, It saw even more things that did not belong to this universe.
Things hidden far deeper, concealed behind that radiant light.
It even saw...
Right there on Laeran, there were two other groups of entities just like that silver-grey figure.
One group radiating golden light.
Another group radiating black light.
Even though their base colors were different from that grey figure, their fundamental essence was exactly the same.
Slaanesh's power churned within the Immaterium, attempting to trace the origins of those lights.
Its authority covered the entire Warp, encompassing every single emotional fluctuation of every living soul.
As long as those entities were alive, still feeling, still thinking, It should be able to find them.
But... there was absolutely nothing.
Nothing at all.
Those golden lights, those black lights, the things behind that silver-grey figure... it was as if they simply didn't exist.
It couldn't find their source.
It was as if they had been dropped into this universe out of thin air by some unknown force, completely devoid of any past or origin.
"Interesting." Slaanesh's voice shifted capriciously, dropping from ultimate tenderness to bone-piercing cold in a fraction of a second. "The anomaly the Changer of Ways spoke of is interesting indeed."
It leaned back against the throne, those eyes reflecting the galaxy narrowing slightly.
Fulgrim had already grasped the sword.
Its prey had taken the bait.
As for those anomalies...
"They will slip up eventually." Slaanesh's voice echoed through the Palace of Pleasure, carrying a chilling, terrifying sense of anticipation. "Before true pleasure, all things must eventually submit. Including you."
--
Meanwhile, far, far away in the depths of the Immaterium.
On the very fringes of the Astronomican's light, in a nameless divine realm hidden seamlessly against the background of the Warp.
Lucian sat cross-legged inside his massive virtual mansion, staring at the golden light screens floating in the void before him.
He could feel the monstrous tidal waves churning through the Immaterium as Slaanesh violently scoured the Warp with its colossal authority, searching for something.
The corners of Lucian's mouth turned up slightly.
"Search away. Search as hard as you want. I already severed the soul anchors of every single player during the beta 2.0 update. Everything they do now is running completely autonomously through the Scourge System. As long as I don't actively grant them new Champion powers... you'll never find a damn thing."
He looked at the silver-grey silhouette of the warship on the screen, slowly pulling away from Laeran.
The Iron Truth.
Paul, his Champion!
The facts proved that he definitely hadn't picked the wrong guy.
Everything Paul had done over the years had fallen under Lucian's watchful eye. Even though they failed to save Fulgrim this time, Lucian didn't think it was Paul's fault at all.
"If Fulgrim falls, he falls. It's not like I have the power to brawl head-to-head with Slaanesh anyway," Lucian shrugged. "He's just one Primarch. If we can't save him, we can't save him."
He swiped the screen, shifting the feed to another star system.
The Dal homeworld.
There, the battle was already drawing to a close.
Southern Hemisphere, Bancal City.
Helovia stood before the holographic stellar map in the temporary command center, her long silver hair floating gently in the psychic resonance.
A trace of exhaustion marked her face, but those dark green eyes remained piercingly calm.
On the holographic map, the red zones representing the Dal aliens were shrinking at a visible rate.
The final fortress of the 1.5 billion Dal aliens was on the verge of being completely overrun.
And in the liberated human livestock pens, tens of millions of rescued humans were receiving preliminary medical treatment and relocation.
Those humans, who had once possessed hollow eyes and acted like walking corpses, were now slowly regaining their vitality.
Lucian's gaze lingered on Helovia for a few seconds before shifting to another feed.
It was the transport fleet of the Dawn First Fleet, holding position in orbit above Dal.
Inside the cargo holds of several specialized transport ships were not soldiers or supplies.
Instead, they were packed with batch after batch of initially screened human survivors from Dal.
Among the survivors were children, youths, and people who still retained a certain capacity for learning and adaptation.
They would undergo further examination, treatment, and education, and then... become members of Crimson Dawn.
They would be nurtured and raised on Aurelian IV, and then return to Dal!
To save their own homeworld, to save their own civilization.
Just like Aurelian IV all those years ago, Crimson Dawn would extend its hand to help them.
From now on, Dal would become Crimson Dawn's second terraformed and modernized world. Crimson Dawn would bring the dawn of humanitarianism to this place.
Lucian watched Helovia and the others as they made their discoveries on this planet.
He chuckled. "Oh, Paul... you lucky bastard!"
He closed that feed and opened the backend of the System Shop.
His eyes swept over a specific category in the shop that remained completely hidden from the players. There sat rows upon rows of unique items.
Every single one of them was marked with a jaw-dropping exchange price.
Lucian's finger lightly swiped across the screen, the smile on his face deepening.
"Crimson Dawn." His voice echoed through the empty divine realm, laced with heavy anticipation. "Your very first exclusive Primarch is about to be born. Your very first exclusive Astartes force is about to be born."