Chapter 79 - Power
In Aurelia Draconis, the galaxy adorned with the majestic presence of Golden Dragons, the Draconic Sector thrived as the seat of power for these magnificent beings. The True Dragons of the Imperium were divided into two overarching groups—the Metallic and the Chromatic. The Emperor, in His boundless wisdom, created five Metallic and five Chromatic Dragons to maintain a balance in the vast cosmos.
The Metallic Dragons, driven by a thirst for knowledge, often assumed diplomatic roles, interacting with various civilizations and taking human forms to explore and learn alongside the Imperium's artificers. Bahamut, the Emperor's Firstborn and the mightiest among them, chose to reside in Genesis Prime, displaying a preference for the heart of the Imperium itself.
On the other hand, Emberthrax, the ruling force among the Chromatic Dragons, epitomized their fierce and violent nature. Often joining forces with the Astartes Salamanders Legion led by their Primarch Maximus Draconis, the Chromatic Dragons preferred fists to diplomacy. Their confrontational approach occasionally led to the scorching of hostile worlds, turning them to ash as a testament to the Imperium's might. However, the Imperium, with its mastery over creation, could use those ashes to birth new planets,
79.2 Sol
In the vast expanse of the Draconic Sector, where galaxies stretched like precious gems in the cosmic tapestry, Sol, the Star Dragon, soared in all his stellar glory. His form, an ethereal dance of stars, illuminated the void, and the power he wielded was as ancient as the birth of galaxies.
Sol, the firstborn Star Dragon, emerged from the remnants of the annihilated Star God, the Eater of Knowledge, a tale dating back to the Emperor's profound actions. The Star Dragons, a subtle twist in the cosmic order, came to be, preventing the birth of any more malevolent Star Gods.
Patrolling the Draconic Sector, Sol's celestial gaze observed the 9999 galaxies, his creation and canvas. However, amidst the tranquility, an intrusive noise echoed through the cosmic silence. "WAAAARRRRRR!!!!" The disturbance grated on Sol's majestic existence, and he pondered momentarily, "Korrks, were they?"
With a flick of his cosmic might, Sol seized a planet, a floating sphere the size of Jupiter, and hurled it across the void, targeting the heart of the Korrk fleet that emerged from a distant wormhole. The impact wreaked havoc, affecting millions, but Sol's patience waned.
In response, he conjured a cosmic force, forming a black hole beneath the Korrk fleet, crushing the majority of their forces into oblivion. A final breath of solar intensity swept across the remaining Korrk vessels, reducing them to cosmic ashes.
"That oughta solve the noise problem," Sol mused, his celestial demeanor unshaken. Returning his attention to the galaxies, he sighed at the local damage wrought by his cosmic interventions. Planets, disrupted from their celestial dance, begged for his mending touch.
"A lot of planets off their axis...again," Sol remarked, as he set out to repair the celestial balance he so masterfully controlled.
79.3 The Salamanders
In the eastern reaches of the universe, the Korrk Galaxies faced the relentless assault of the Imperium. The Salamanders, known for their mastery over fire, engaged in the purging of Kraksmasha, a planet once under the rule of the Warboss Grukka Skullsmasha. The capital planet, now devoid of its Korrk inhabitants, witnessed the cleansing flames of the Salamanders.
As the red dragons breathed torrents of fire, incinerating the remnants of Korkoid spores, a conversation unfolded among the Salamanders. Hiroto, walking amidst the flames with his battle brothers, queried his comrade Kwame, "Brother Kwame, how long has the War in Heaven been going?"
Kwame, unleashing streams of fire from his flamethrower, replied, "It's been a century, Brother Hiroto." The scene around them depicted a grim reality—mountains of Korrkoid species corpses burning to prevent the resurgence of the Korrk threat.
In the midst of their fiery purge, the ground stirred. Kwame, ever vigilant, noticed the movement and swiftly directed his flamethrower towards the source. "Movement," he announced, sending torrents of flame to engulf the mountain of Korrkoid corpses.
Hiroto, wielding a Plasma Rifle, focused his attention on the emerging threat. After minutes of burning the macabre pile, a massive Krot lunged at the two Space Marines. "Contact!" Kwame declared, responding with a relentless stream of flames directed at the towering 6-meter-high Krot.
The Krot, battered and weakened, succumbed to the onslaught of flames and plasma. As its power armor struggled to withstand the intense heat, it eventually crumbled into ash under the combined assault of Kwame's Heavy Flamer and Hiroto's Plasma Rifle turned Flamer.
"Basically, I lost count of the battles we fought, Brother Kwame," Hiroto remarked, surveying the aftermath of the skirmish.
Kwame, now wielding a Flamer, chuckled. "It's alright. I like to keep count of the battles we went through. Approximately 103,203 battles since I started as a Neophyte."
"Damn, has it been that long already?" Hiroto exclaimed, a sense of time lost amidst the countless conflicts they faced.
Gazing at the horizon, the two Space Marines observed the final battle unfolding in the distance. A Korrk Warboss, standing defiantly, clashed with five formidable Men of Iron Colossi. The battle reached its climax as the Warboss, with a final roar of "Waaaarrrrr!" met its end, beheaded by the towering Colossi.
"Looks like we got a Korrk Warboss as loot. The Artificers have been going on and on about getting fresh specimens of the Korrks. I wonder how much we're getting as a bonus?" Kwame mused.
"The Legion is getting a huge bonus. The Artificers are quite a rich bunch anyway," Hiroto replied, acknowledging the value of their hard-fought victory and the spoils that came with it.
As the flames of battle continued to consume the remnants of the Korrk resistance, Hiroto engaged his Battle Brother Kwame in a reflective conversation. Seated on a slab of concrete amidst the aftermath of the skirmish, Hiroto posed a question about the current state of the Imperium.
"What do you think about the current state of the Imperium?" Hiroto inquired, seeking his comrade's perspective.
Kwame met his gaze and responded, "United, as long as the Emperor is on the helm. I'll tell you something I heard our Gene-Father talking to the Raven Guard Primarch, his Royal Highness Nyx Noctua, about the War in Heaven."
Intrigued, Hiroto settled down, and Kwame placed a sizeable slab of concrete between them as makeshift seating. "Spit it out. You know I like these types of chats, brother," Hiroto encouraged.
Kwame, joining him on the concrete slab, began to share insights. "It doesn't hurt to chat; the Legion is already cleaning up. Anyways, the War in Heaven, they say, is a way for strengthening both the Astartes Legions and the Cosmic Militarum. The Eldranthii and the Korrks are whetstones, they say. After the War in Heaven, the Emperor plans on continuing the invasion of different universes across the Great Expanse."
Hiroto listened attentively, absorbing the information. "You heard them talk? Wouldn't it be a secret? Would we be in trouble, brother?" he inquired.
Kwame dismissed the concern, "I was at guard duty at that time, so no biggie. Besides, it's an open secret that the Emperor himself likes to invade and progress our civilization. So it's safe. It was also the Emperor's plan to conquer other universes in the early days of the Imperium. Although, with the appearance of the former first civilization, the Old Ones, sidetracked the invasion. And now, we are fighting their creations—the Eldranthii and the Korrks."
The announcement reverberated through the Salamander communication channels, cutting through the aftermath of battle. "Attention all units, return to base." The directive reached Hiroto and Kwame, prompting them to rise from their makeshift seats on the concrete slab.
"Aight, let's go," Hiroto declared to his Battle Brother, Kwame, who nodded in agreement. Together, they made their way back to the frontier base established on the planet, marking the end of their current mission as they prepared for what awaited them next.
79.4 The Eldranthii Pantheon
The divine assembly within the ethereal realm of Pyranthia Regalis echoed with murmurs as Eldranthii gods and goddesses gathered around the majestic figure seated upon a throne of light. Asuryan, the Phoenix King, resided above all, a symbol of divine authority, radiating with an otherworldly glow. His contemplative gaze fell upon the pantheon that surrounded him.
Khaine, the Bloody Handed God, exuded an aura of war, embodying the martial spirit of the Eldranthii. Cegorach, the Laughing God, brought a whimsical air, contrasting with the gravity of the situation. Isha, the Goddess of Fertility, Vaul, the God of The Forge, Kurnous, the God of the Hunt, and Lileath, the Goddess of Fortune and Dreams, all held their respective domains within the pantheon.
However, the weight of failure pressed upon them. The Eldranthii's campaigns against the Imperium had met consistent defeats over the past century. Asuryan, the Phoenix King, contemplated drastic measures, tempted to launch an attack through the divine realm against the God-Emperor.
Yet, caution lingered. Asuryan remembered the fate of his creators, who had attempted a similar feat and were annihilated by the overwhelming power of the God-Emperor. Only fragmented souls remained, from which Asuryan crafted the rest of his pantheon.
Tension thickened as Asuryan, the Phoenix King, confronted Khaine, the God of War, about the continuous failures in their campaigns against the Imperium.
Asuryan's inquiry cut through the divine assembly, and his gaze fixated upon Khaine. "Khaine, as the God of War, why do we continue to suffer defeat? It has been a century of losses. Explain this to me," demanded Asuryan.
Khaine, burdened by the weight of countless defeats, spoke with a candid admission. "The Imperium possesses overwhelming strength, Asuryan. Despite my avatars descending to the battlefield, even they are intercepted by the Custodians. If I were to descend directly, a Primarch or the God-Emperor himself would counteract. It is not a matter of fault but a recognition of their superior might. I am no stranger to war, but against the Imperium, victory remains elusive."
"Excuses!" Asuryan's voice thundered with anger, a reflection of his dissatisfaction with the state of affairs.
The God of War, no longer willing to bear the weight of unwarranted blame, retorted fiercely. "You, who indulge in pleasure within your palace, have no right to chastise me! I have led my subjects against various races, even the formidable Korrks, and emerged victorious. It is only against the Imperium that our endeavors falter. Why don't you leave your shining chair and lead, Asuryan?"
Khaine's words reverberated through the divine assembly, laying bare the simmering tension between the two gods. The Eldranthii pantheon, witnessing this clash of divine pride, fell silent. The feud between Asuryan and Khaine had deep roots, fueled by Khaine's dissatisfaction with a God-King who, despite being hailed as the strongest, seemed content to revel in hedonistic pleasures and neglect the responsibilities of true leadership. Khaine's realization was a poignant acknowledgment that strength alone might not be enough against the might of the Imperium.
Asuryan's wrath erupted like a tempest. Unwilling to accept Khaine's truths, the God King lashed out with divine fury. "You dare judge me? The God King? I created this pantheon with my own hands, and I created you!" With a sweeping motion, Asuryan struck Khaine, sending the God of War hurtling across the cosmic void until he collided with a nearby planet. In the wake of his attack, Asuryan pursued, his anger unrelenting.
As the divine conflict unfolded, the Eldranthii Pantheon observed the tumult. Cegorach, the Laughing God, smiled with amusement. As the inheritor of the Aetherian Clown God's Godhead, he reveled in the unpredictable twists of divine conflicts. Chuckling to himself, Cegorach mused on the potential for a celestial civil war among the gods. "Even gods dispute amongst themselves, but this makes it even more interesting. Would this lead to a civil war between us? The excitement... What surprises would the next chapter give us? Pride will always be the determining factor of a dispute," he exclaimed.
On the sidelines, Isha, the Goddess of Fertility, watched the clash between two of the most powerful Eldranthii gods. Her contemplation delved into the potential outcomes—would Khaine face the brink of death, or would it be Asuryan? Could both gods survive, yet be forever separated by an insurmountable gap, their cooperation shattered, and their discourse irreparably strained? The unfolding divine drama held the attention of the Eldranthii Pantheon, as uncertainty loomed over the fate of their celestial kin.
Asuryan and Khaine engaged in a divine duel. As Asuryan swung his Phoenix Sword with the flames of celestial fury, Khaine countered with his great sword, hands dripping with the essence of spilled blood. Amidst the cosmic chaos, Morai-Heg, the Goddess of Fate and Destiny, strained to discern the future, but the threads of fate remained elusive, offering only a fuzzy and uncertain vision.
On the distant planet, Asuryan confronted Khaine with a tirade of accusations and pride. Khaine, fueled by anger and long-standing grievances, unleashed his frustration. "I have had enough of you, Asuryan! You are nothing but a hedonistic fool, reveling in pleasures while claiming the glory earned by my children. They pray to you, not the God who guided them through battles, but to the God-King who sits in leisure, intoxicated and surrounded by indulgence!" With each word, Khaine's great sword cut through the cosmic void with a ferocity matched only by his resentment.
Pridefully, Asuryan retorted, "They should pray to the God-King! It is my birthright to be worshipped!" He clashed blades with Khaine, the clash echoing through the celestial expanse.
As the battle raged on, Asuryan unveiled his grand ambitions. "Once I finish you off, I will lead my legions to Genesis Prime, eliminate the God-Emperor, and be glorified for eternity!" The God-King spoke with unbridled arrogance.
Khaine, unyielding, taunted Asuryan with a revelation. "You speak boldly, yet you cower in fear whenever you approach the Imperium. I witnessed it—how you killed our creators after they warned you of the Emperor's danger. The Phoenix King, a coward!"
Asuryan's command rang through the cosmic void— "Enough!" With unparalleled power and divine authority, the Phoenix King subdued the God of War, Khaine. The once mighty and ferocious Khaine lay defeated, broken and battered. The wounds inflicted upon him were not just physical but marked the beginning of a deeper turmoil.
As Khaine struggled to recover from the overpowering force of Asuryan's wrath, a profound transformation was set in motion. This decisive moment would sow the seeds of rebellion within Khaine and lay the groundwork for the eventual fracture of the Eldranthii Pantheon and, subsequently, the Eldranthii race.
Emotions, the powerful currents that surged through the veins of the Eldranthii, magnified fivefold compared to the Imperium's citizens. While these heightened emotions granted strength, they also became the harbinger of the Eldranthii's undoing. The gods, mighty beings fueled by emotions, were not immune to the potential chaos wrought by their amplified feelings.
In the cosmic tapestry of divine affairs, the once Glorious Phoenix King, Asuryan, began his descent into folly. This descent mirrored the tales of ancient mythologies, reminiscent of Zeus's transformation during the Titanomachy. From a majestic and revered God-King leading his pantheon against external threats, Asuryan veered toward hedonism and pride. The echoes of his debauchery and arrogance resonated across the celestial realms.
Power, that which had elevated Asuryan to divine heights, now threatened to corrupt him. A foolish God-King could prove to be the catalyst for the downfall of an entire race. As the Eldranthii stood at the precipice, the looming shadows of their gods' internal strife portended an uncertain future, where the divine realm mirrored the tumultuous emotions of its inhabitants.