English Novel
Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]
0 – Ritual
0 – Ritual
999.M41 Minutes before the fall of Cadia || Follax IV; Sector Darkspire; Segmentum Ultima; Imperium Nihilis ||
"Are we ready?"
The question resounded around the spacious room, carrying a tone of nervousness and childish excitement.
While it would have been endearing if the question came from a child but alas it had not.
Azkaral, a proud member of the Word Bearers Legion was astounded hearing the deep emotion hidden in his Borther-Sergant's voice. He was a man who stood against the Corpse Emperor ten thousand years ago and was among the first to be enlightened.
Now this several millennia-old monster who has conducted innumerable rituals in service to their Gods without anything other than cold determination and satisfaction was barely containing himself from jumping in excitement.
"Yes, Brother-Sergeant," he kept his thoughts to himself and answered, "the ritual preparations and the sacrifices have been gathered and accomplished per your directions."
And what sacrifices they were. Azkaral felt a similar excitement well up in him at the thought.
Never before has he been part of a Ritual sacrificing the entire population of several planets at once. Follax IV was a Hive World too, with billions of inhabitants.
What great goal could they accomplish with such a grand ritual? He sadly wasn't privy to it, nobody was, only the Sergeant. Even summoning a greater demon wouldn't take this much effort, maybe they were aiming for a Demon Prince? Or something even greater?
"Good," the ancient voice whispered, its excitement barely hidden this time, "We shall start at once then, we haven't got much time."
And they did. At the order of the Sergeant, all Brothers kneeled across the fifteen different planets and sang.
Their song was filled with zealous devotion and their demonically gifted psychic might reverberated across the warp.
Their souls linked and resonated through the rituals, filling each Brother's soul with the strength of the billions of the reaped souls.
As their song neared its crescendo Azkaral felt an enormous shockwave travel through him. With the shockwave came a deepening of his connection to the Warp.
Azkaral pulled this newfound connection to its limit as he felt many of his Brothers do so as well. He didn't know the reason but this must have been the reason why the Sargent wanted to perform the Ritual at this exact time.
Soon enough the crescendo arrived and Azkaral felt a pull on his soul, it was a familiar sensation he associated with getting banished. Now, though the pull wasn't coming from his connection to his Gods, nor the Warp but the Ritual.
A normal person would have been horrified in his position but Azkaral only felt two things at this moment.
A regret, for not seeing what magnificent result this ritual would achieve.
And joy, at the knowledge that he would contribute his very being to this goal.
He didn't even attempt to resist as he felt himself being pulled into the grand Ritual with the Sergeant at its center.
His last individual thought was elation at feeling his many brothers be pulled along with him.
Malachias felt the unimaginable power well up inside him, threatening to tear his soul apart.
He has taken many precautions against such an occurrence but it seems it might barely be enough.
His soul wouldn't last much, but it should be enough. It can't have all been for nothing.
Such an opportunity came once in history and never again, nor before would it repeat itself.
Malachias was known as the Apostate, well one of the things he was known as was the Apostate for his exceptionally accurate visions of the future. They were irregular and came without his prompting but he welcomed them all.
Such visions were seen as the blessings of the Lord of Change and he felt nothing but gratitude for them.
Especially for this one.
A crack appeared in space above him and a small container fell out of it.
The crack, which revealed a dark storage on the other side closed just as quickly as it appeared but it left behind a gift.
Malachias smiled as he held the orb-shaped container maybe a fourth of his size. One of the dearly kept relics of the Shadowkeepers just fell right into his hands, straight from the most impregnable vault below the imperial palace on Holy Terra itself.
Moments before this container sat somewhere below the very throne of the corpse emperor.
A chuckle left him briefly followed by a wince. He couldn't last much longer.
He placed the container in the middle of the Ritual circle he was kneeling on and continued the song.
With all his power he reached out, far away as he could and he searched.
The warp has never been so powerful yet so weak at the same time before, its sudden expansion weakened its barriers momentarily.
This didn't make much difference but for his goals, it would be essential.
His reach extended beyond the Warp and out into the deep immaterial, his soul brushed against the great sea of other universes and examined them. He felt them, tasted them and he discarded them to search for another.
None of them were what he wanted. There were many powerful souls and interesting beings in all of them but he wanted more. Something that would throw the Galaxy, no this Reality into Chaos.
He coughed out blood and his eyes were bloodshot, barely holding his physical form together to tether his enormous amalgam of a soul but he found it.
He briefly felt it, not quite knowing how or where but he felt it.
He latched onto that feeling and pulled himself along like a drowning man clutching a thrown rope.
He dragged himself along even if he couldn't quite comprehend how or where he was going.
How could he? If he was searching left and right before then the current direction he was going in was upwards. Something alien and he felt like he didn't belong. Reality itself was trying to force him out of this place, this plane of existence.
With a last smirk, he grabbed at the first soul he sensed. To his delight it didn't resist, he felt even in his state if it did he couldn't have done anything to drag it along as he was pulled back down into his reality.
He clutched the soul as if his life depended on it as his surroundings blended together.
In a single moment that felt longer than his whole life up until now, he was back.
Without a single second of hesitation, he plunged his hand into the container and felt it shatter under his strength.
Good, he thought as that was the last of it.
He gently guided the soul into what was inside the container.
A perfect body for a perfect soul. His greatest masterpiece. No this was the greatest masterpiece that has ever existed and ever will.
A bioweapon left over from the Dark Age of Technology that even the Corpse Emperor couldn't destroy infused with the should a higher dimensional being.
"For...Chaos," Malachias murmured as both his physical body and soul started to disintegrate, this wasn't just banishment, this was oblivion.
He barely saw snow-white tendrils lash out of the broken container before he finally perished.
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