First chapter of the Summer Holidays! Enjoy!

Chapter 36

Segmentum Obscurus

Benzial Sub-Sector

Hexadon Cluster

Sando'ri System

Sandor Tertius - Hive World

Citadel of Maladies and Cures

Fabius Bile's Stronghold

The Inner Sanctum

"Lord El Sokauron, it is most agreeable to see you once more," said Bile with a bit of genuflexion.

"And it is quite agreeable to me also, Lord Bile," replied the massive form of the great Chaos Lord.

"Come now, my lord. Surely, as my saviour of this occasion, you may dispense with politeness towards me," replied Bile with curiosity in his eyes.

"Ha ha… So, you spoke to me as if I was a beggar at your door the last time we have met here, yet, now that I have returned with a fleet and a great host and commanding daemons of my own devising, you speak in a manner that does not befit the words of a ten-thousand-year-old Champion of Chaos."

Bile's fake smile faded a bit but he did keep his polite gestures.

"Allow me to introduce to you another client of mine, Lord Mandalis the Fanged."

The Terminator Lord eyed El Sokauron with wary eyes. El Sokauron chuckled.

"Your name is somewhat known. If I remember correctly, you used to operate a Warband of a significant size, almost half a Chapter… yet, now I hear that you are on your last legs after an encounter with the Inquisition?"

"You are well-learned, Lord El Sokauron," said Mandalis.

"Indeed, I am. Although I am not as attuned to the gossips as Tzeentch may be, I am still quite well informed," replied El Sokauron. "However, I have not come here for some little pleasantries, Lord Bile. I have come for what is mine."

"The Astartes are ready, as pure as you have asked, and as empty as you have commanded so. These are cloned flesh, their muscles artificially strengthened, their bodies remembering a thousand training, but their minds empty," answered Bile.

El Sokauron paused and narrowed his eyes.

"You have questions, yet you do not ask them," stated the Chaos Lord.

"I know enough not to ask such questions, though I do have an amendment to our deal that I would like to suggest."

El Sokauron cracked a knowing smile.

"I have assumed as much, Lord Bile. I suppose you wish for an alternate method of payment. Mere favours and physical resources are no longer within your sights, I see," mused El Sokauron and Bile nodded.

"You judge me correctly, Lord El Sokauron. Given your almost prophetic ability to guess my mind, I hope you know what I would ask?"

The giant Chaos Lord gestured at his men, and four Chaos Marines brought two large chests fitted some sort of advanced technology.

"I have here Geneseeds of Ultramarines, White Scars, Blood Angels, Salamanders, Imperial Fists and Space Wolves. These are… pure… just as the ones that you have used to create my warriors."

Now that made Bile very happy, but El Sokauron was not done.

"Unfortunately, I believe that my payment has already been paid, in full, given the circumstances."

That made Bile's smile to freeze.

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I have saved your skin here, when a Daemon Prince has sought your neck and soul for his consumption. Why should I pay more now when I have granted you your life?" asked the Chaos Lord.

Bile fished out a small data slate.

"If I recognise your value in ridding me of the Daemon Prince, then perhaps I can pay with this for the Geneseeds."

El Sokauron seemed surprised that Bile did not fight for the payment but offered an alternative deal.

"What is this payment?"

"The location of an Eldar Exodite world, hidden from the sights of the Imperials," replied Bile.

"You know much more about me than I have realised, Lord Bile. You knew that I seek Eldar souls," growled El Sokauron, "and you bargain with it. Quite impressive."

"I certainly hope so, otherwise you may kill me and Lord Mandalis here with a single stroke and take your cloned Astartes."

Mandalis gasped, but Bile held him back. El Sokauron stared at Bile for a moment before grinning once more,

"Clever. Very well. I shall accept your deal," said the Chaos Lord.

"Excellent, my lord."

"Hmm… Perhaps I may require your service again in the future, and you will remember this generosity."

"Of course, my lord."

El Sokauron then turned toward the massive staircase leading to the dungeon where his future troops awaited him. Both Bile and Mandalis followed the larger Chaos Lord.

Three hundred Astartes with blank eyes all stood and waited for something while El Sokauron carefully inspected several of them. Hundreds of slaves and cultists began to carry pieces of Power Armour down the stairs and began to lay them down before each of the blank-minded Astartes clones.

"It appears that your famed skills in genetic manipulation are indeed without a single shred of overestimation, Lord Bile. This is an impressive work. Each of them is a perfect clone. Excellent."

At the congratulation, Bile smiled.

"I am curious as for how you would operate these meat puppets, for these are utterly without mind. As you have asked, their minds have been scrubbed each year to make sure of their emptiness, despite the damages to the brain," said Bile.

"You will now witness what can be done with these shells," answered El Sokauron as he conjured up an orb of indigo-hued energy in his left palm.

Within the orb floated hundreds of tiny sparks of something that squirmed, screamed and wailed. When El Sokauron whispered into the orb, these tiny sparks exploded out from the orb and headed to the clones. Each spark went into the forehead of the cloned Marines, and the bodies screamed.

A flood of dark energies exploded from each of their heads as their flesh began to mutate under the influence of the Daemons of Diablo. Each of their skulls cracked and hardened and three eyes appeared over their forehead just above their normal eyes, creating the five eyes that glittered in dark indigo. Their skins tightened and a thin layer of scales and tough leather formed from their flesh while their muscles pulsated with unholy strength as the fibres broke and healed rapidly. Tiny horns grew from the crown of their heads while the hairs fell out and replaced by hundreds of tiny slimy tentacles.

"This is how you create a legion of daemonic Astartes. They are possessed but not in the usual way of such possession. These were creatures with pale souls, easy enough for my daemons to not only devour the souls but to take full ownership of the flesh. These daemons cannot be banished into the Immaterium by cutting off the Warp with science or magic, and physical destruction is difficult thanks to their newfound strength."

"Impressive, my lord," said Mandalis with a hunger in his eyes.

"Do you like them, Lord Mandalis? Would you like a few?" asked El Sokauron with a sparkle in his eyes.

Mandalis paused. He did not know what El Sokauron would demand in return.

"If I do desire some of these mighty creatures, what would you ask of me?"

"Only your faith, Mandalis. You do not need to abandon the faith in the Chaos Undivided, but merely add to the pantheon."

Now that confused Mandalis.

"I do not understand. What do you mean?"

"Pray and sacrifice to the God of Terror. The nascent god hungers for worship and will grant you great powers in return."

"I do not… You do not mean… Mal…"

El Sokauron roared and for a moment Mandalis felt terror deep in his heart.

"No, not him," replied El Sokauron, "but a new God of Fear and Despair. Diablo, the Lord of Terror and Bringer of Desolation. Worship him by sacrificing in the numerals of five and paint yourselves in indigo, and the new god shall grant you favours beyond measure."

"Diablo?"

"Yes…"

"Is that who you worship?"

El Sokauron simply smiled.

Sandor Tertius

The Dreadfleet and the Terrorkind did not leave the planet immediately.

They gladly joined in on the war on the surface.

Without their leaders, the armies of Chaos quickly became disorganised, and that had made them a good target for the beleaguered Imperial forces led by the stalwart Captain Adman Barrisis of the Stone Gauntlets who had recently arrived to reinforce the Star Dragons and the Night Watch Space Marines who were decimated by the power of the now-deceased Daemon Prince.

Yet, the Imperials did not have the strength to end the Chaos forces.

The numerous Sandorian regiments had been so wasted by the fighting against the Orks before the Chaos forces had even come, and with five Regiments entirely lost just as the PDF dwindling to less than nine percent of the original strength, the Imperials had to rely heavily on defensive measures and upon the valour of the Space Marines.

It was not that the Orks had much success.

Caught between the wall-like defences of the Imperials and the emboldened forces of Chaos with over three hundred thousand Plague Zombies, the Ork forces of the Warboss Hornskull began to erode. Of course, several of the major defeats had brought doubt to the leadership of the Warboss, which had ended in a few rebellions from the lesser Warbosses of the native Ork tribes. While the terrifyingly dangerous and cunning Hornskull had crushed all the contenders, the active Ork forces were now slightly less numerous than the forces of Chaos.

It was into this fray that the Chaos Lord El Sokauron had descended with force and great darkness.

While the faithful of the Nurgle had been fought and purged, those of weaker faith in the Plague Father had been spared to be converted. Sorcerers, Aspiring Champions and leaders of various factions within the Vile Hordes Warband had challenged El Sokauron, only to meet the equally gruesome end.

The traitors of the two Sandorian Regiments and the PDF had quickly joined the Terrorkind, while the Chaos Marines and Cultists were a little more difficult to convince. This had cost some lives, but the Terrorkind eventually had added just over a hundred new Chaos Marines to their army along with four thousand Cultists.

The three hundred thousand Plague Zombies, however, had to be dealt with.

El Sokauron did not wish to cause offence to the great Lord of Disease, especially given what he would be doing to the Plague Father soon enough. Instead of obliterating the masses of Plague Zombies with orbital fire or feeding them to the guns of the Orks and the Imperials, the nascent god had done something else.

He had created a great pentagram across a great empty land and cornered all the Plague Zombies into the area. Then having slain almost a hundred Stone Gauntlets, El Sokauron had used their souls and gene-seeds to harness the powers of the Warp.

Three hundred thousand Plague Zombies were then teleported off-world, to a random non-daemonic world within the sector.

What happened to that poor world was not any of El Sokauron's concern.

"Excellent! The test has been quite a success," muttered El Sokauron as his Sorcerers finished chanting and collapsed in exhaustion.

Watching the Cultists and private slaves of the Sorcerers attend to their petty masters, El Sokauron turned around in his massive hulking Terminator Armour that sizzled with energy brimming to the very surface of his armour. The numerous sacrifices committed in this world alone, in his name, and in such proximity, was something so very intoxicating.

It was no wonder that his brothers in the depth of the Warp had so desired their warriors to sacrifice so many lives in conquest and senseless war. El Sokauron had felt like he was a mortal who had drunk a dozen cans of energy drinks.

"To have such powers," said El Sokauron to Lord Mandalis as the dark energies crackled within the greater Chaos Lord's fingers, "is to have a great responsibility."

"Responsibility, my lord?"

"Indeed, Lord Mandalis. Responsibility to the galaxy at large. I am endowed with a glorious purpose to bring terror and despair upon all souls, across all worlds, across all species. This purpose must always be considered the priority in all my actions, and to achieve such a lofty goal, I should seek not to waste my time and energy upon smaller objectives."

Mandalis blanched at the implication.

"You consider this world to be a minor objective."

"I need not possess this minor planet with insignificant resources other than the slaves that the mortals would make," replied El Sokauron as he faced the general direction of the Ork-controlled regions.

"Yet, a retreat here would give the slaves of the False Emperor a great relief. With the Sector quite unstable, the collapse of the major Imperial Guard producer would inflict incredible damages to the Imperial control here," countered Mandalis.

El Sokauron paused and smirked.

"That it may be, Lord Mandalis, yet, I do not care. I have already worked far too hard for a single world. I shall shatter the Orks, then I shall slay the Imperials. It shall be far easier than you imagine it to be," El Sokauron stated matter-of-factly.

"What will you do? Would you drive your newly acquired slaves against the Imperial defences or against the newly-rallied Ork Warboss?" asked the new ally of the Terror Lord.

El Sokauron just chuckled as he raised his hands upward, and began to draw upon the air. The very space before the Chaos Lord sizzled and glowed. The clawed fingers drew strange lines and wrote horrific runes that almost burned those who dared to gaze upon it. Slaves who had accidently witnessed it wailed as they fell upon their knees and tore out their own hearts. Chaos Marines groaned and seethed as they sought to turn their heads. Only the Chaos Sorcerers and Lord Mandalis could withstand the presence of such terrible marks of evil, and even they struggled.

The diagram of insanity was complete, yet it was one of many pieces. Lord El Sokauron drew seven more, then sending them higher into the air and arranging them into a great Star of Chaos, the Eight-Pointed sigil of the Ruinous Powers.

Great flames of haunted faces erupted between the eight pieces of magical diagrams, forming even greater and massive diagram of such spine-chilling depravity. Even the Sorcerers and Lord Mandalis quaked at the sight and averted their eyes. Things of tentacles began to slither in and out, none of them real or physical yet so heavy in presence. Skeletons of a thousand different creatures with a thousand deformities would peer through the great conflagration of indigo flame, and then would fade as black chains of pure malice would grasp their haunted forms. Tattered pieces of souls screeched but they would only stare through the thin membrane between the reality and the unreality.

It took almost an hour for the flames to die down and formed a massive circular magic-circle of a thousand runes and many diagrams and sigils of terrible origins. The Sorcerers, now rested from their previous spell-casting, joined in, and began to sacrifice slaves and captured prisoners to the circle, with a pool of blood being created right underneath the circle.

"This spell has costed me eight hundred slaves, but it would be quite worth it."

"I am no Sorcerer, my lord," replied Mandalis, "yet, I have seen a fair share of sorceries. I do not recognise this one."

El Sokauron held up another piece of the spell, a large sword-like thing made up of lines of energy trapping eight beating-hearts skewered by the energy's lines.

"Of course not, Mandalis. This is a spell of my own devising, and it shall be a nightmare for those who do not follow the path of Chaos."

He held up the object in his hand, and then the great bulk that was Lord El Sokauron in a Terminator Armour began to rise into the air.

"This is the Key, and it shall be the Hand of the Clock."

The Key was placed into the centre of the magic-circle, where it stood like the hour-hand of the midnight.

With a fluff of dust, El Sokauron landed back upon the ground.

"Once this is activated, it shall grant this wretched little planet only five hours before the Five Sanctions is cast upon the planet," explained El Sokauron, "and as for us, we should leave."

Mandalis was curious, for his faith in his new master was not strong enough.

"I do not understand."

"The power of this spell shall be further fuelled by those on the surface being consumed by it. It is not a mechanism that our flesh and armour can survive. We shall place turrets and automatons around this place, while we rise into the orbit and watch a world fall."

Soon, they were away, ferried back to the Dreadfleet that had crippled and captured the Imperial fleet while shattering the Orks. The Chaos fleet of the Vile Hordes surrendered once the visual of their Chaos Lord hanging by a hooked chain with only his head and spine left intact.

While his slaves and Sorcerers were busy re-decorating the two newly-captured Strike Cruisers and the dozen Imperial vessels in the dreadful visages of their Dread God, El Sokauron watched the magnified vision from his flagship. Lord Mandalis had come aboard and stood beside his new master.

The planet was suddenly divided into five zones, sweeping across the planet like dawn and dusk. The planet spun quickly, faster than it should have, but the waves of the mysterious and horrific energy spun the world even faster.

The first of the five zones was the zone of life.

All flesh re-grew, health restored, diseases defeated, minds restored and all those upon it felt full of life. Space Marines, so wounded that they fell into a deep coma, or even those interred within the massive Dreadnought chassis felt their life restored. Pieces of Imperial Guards scattered around the battlefield knit themselves back into their original forms. This affected the Orks also, but not the Chaos Marines, for those who died under such influence of the Warp were not included in this miracle.

Yet, but five hours of jubilance later, the second zone swept over them.

They began to age. Muscles weakened. Skins sloughed. Teeth fell out. Bones had holes. Joints swelled. Eyes dimmed. The young fresh recruits of the Imperial Guards and PDF of no more than fifteen or sixteen quickly became old men, becoming men of older age and weakness than a centenarian. Only the Orks and Space Marines did not feel the acuity of ageing. Space Marines swelled, their flesh pressing into the crevices of their tight-fitted armour, and caused them agony. Ork Boyz grew quickly into Nobz and brawls ensued between the thousands of Nobz, all wanting the glory of being bullies.

In five hours, the third zone struck them.

The inevitability of sickness came over them all. There was the reason that Nurgle is said to be the oldest. All mortals face sickness and disease as their frail forms turn and twist. The aged bodies of all upon the world began to scream in pain. Cancers grew from every other organ. Flesh rotted. Genetic disorders flared up. Malaria and Syphilis spread. AIDS and HIV festered in every drop of blood. Orks suffered their own disease, their fungal nature desiccating and withering. Orks that grew to Nobz all shrivelled to no more than Gretchens, while Grots became too toxic to devour. Space Marines suffered diseases of mind and body. Most of them became like the Plague Marines of Nurgle, but without their pristine armour breaking.

The fourth zone was the zone of despair and nightmare, the insert of the Dread God into the cycle of life.

Every nightmare and fear came alive, dancing upon the scorched surface of insanity. Those who survived attempted to fight, but the enemies were not of flesh and metal. These were within their souls, chipping away with honeyed words and whispers of depression.

Then the fifth zone came upon them all.

Death.

The true equaliser.

All died.

Their souls, immortal, still tied to their body, felt no pain or suffering. They all simply felt the vast nothingness.

They peered into that utter void.

They would have screamed if they had been alive. Yet, they were dead, and all were quiet.

Five hours passed, and a single day of this world was done, and the zone of life shined upon them all.

Life was renewed.

Memories were fresh. Every drop of suffering was remembered.

The cycle of life and death kept going.

As the Dreadfleet remained in geosynchronous orbit for a whole standard month, and those on the world below had suffered through no less than twelve-hundred cycles. Even the Orks buckled under such evil. Having driven insane, the Orks went for each other the moment that the final cycle ended with the zone of life.

Filled with vitality but mind was broken but for the despair, the Orks decimated themselves within hours. Their numbered shrank to less than five thousand in three hours, even as the strike forces of the Terrorkind divided up the surviving Orks and slaughtered them.

As for the humans and the Space Marines, it was only the appearance of the nascent Dread God, that was enough to break them. Only a very few Astartes, nineteen in all, had managed to keep their minds and souls intact enough to flee, but the rest surrendered to the despair.

Now, this world belonged to El Sokauron, with almost three hundred thousand mortal soldiers and nearly three hundred newly-converted Astartes.

"These three hundred warriors are by a token of my blessings, Lord Mandalis. They are yours to rebuild your Warband, and spread the name of Diablo across the galaxy," said El Sokauron as he handed Mandalis a rune-etched Power Sword that sizzled with such daemonic energy that it felt as it burned the veteran Chaos Lord.

"It is a generous grant, my lord," replied Mandalis as he knelt before his new master.

"I have promised you much, and you shall receive. I confer you the mighty Retribution-class 'Castelli Luminas', renamed 'Umbra Domus', the Shadow House, within which you shall build a fine order of warriors. With Umbra Domus as your flagship, I also grant you the two Strike Cruisers taken from the former-Loyalists, as well as four lesser vessels and their escorts."

Yet, the gift of the Dark God was not over.

El Sokauron's left hand hovered over the head of Mandalis, and power crackled there.

Mandalis blinked, and then he screamed as the mutations of his body shrivelled up and the daemonic powers that had once resided within him were replaced with something far more potent and direct. As the Chaos Lord shuddered, his muscles went through spasms that further empowered his physical might. His bones were coated in a thin membrane of metal and blood that better resisted diseases pumped out from the marrows. His eyes became keener with cat-like slits for iris, and his vocal cords became that of a Nightmare, the lesser daemon of Diablo.

"Go now, and spread my dark gospel."

"Yes, my lord," answered the much-changed Champion of Diablo.

Segmentum Obscurus

Benzial Sub-Sector

Hexadon Cluster

Sando'ri System

Lord Mandalis the Fanged took Sandor III as his new home, and remade his Warband in service and worship of his new master.

The Hounds of Despair was formed, and the terrible Chaos Lord began to turn the Hive World into his own fortress of despair and horrific evils. He encouraged the population's growth, expanding agriculture and introducing the 'advanced' agricultural technology given to him by Lord El Sokauron. Yet, these people were utterly without resistance, for their minds and souls were broken.

All children of these people were born normal, but they grew up in an environment that was absolutely and oppressively dedicated to the worship of the Dark God. As the new generations grew, the weaker ones would be consumed by the pervasive despair that filled the very air of the planet, and would slit their own throat or tear out their own hearts in a ritual sacrifice to Diablo.

Within a decade, Mandalis had formed an army of a hundred thousand well-armed and trained soldiers. These were soldiers whose past decade had been endless days of brutal treatments and horrific training. Of the almost three hundred thousand soldiers that Mandalis had started with, only a third had remained, and that was with few fresh recruits.

Mandalis also recruited few hundred youngsters for his own Astartes program, putting them through training and murderous trials while using the tools and machines left behind by Fabius Bile. Of the almost two thousand that he had gathered from across the planet, he was left with less than two hundred who were strong enough and vicious enough to win through the trials. Then the number reduced once more as the implants began to work. Some survived and others did not.

Then after the final gauntlet that had pitted the survivors against the Orks in a special 'reserve' on an island, the Chaos Lord was left with sixty-seven recruits of highest quality and strongest faith in the Terror God.

Sandor III was also a manufacturing facility for both Mandalis and El Sokauron.

El Sokauron had left many Hereteks and 'engineers' who brought with them many designs and machines. Setting up shop in the primary Manufactorum complex, these Hereteks began to experiment and create numerous weapons and vehicles.

At first, the Hereteks created tanks that were squat and flat. Of course, Mandalis had no way of knowing that those were reiterations of Israeli Merkava and German Leopard 2 with hints of Abrams. The Hereteks were attempting to use the advanced technologies and know-hows of these ancient tank designs and merge them with the pieces of Leman Russ Exterminator technology present on the planet.

After a decade and after hundreds of mock battles that had left entire towns burning and destroyed, the Hereteks had finally created an entirely new tank to the galaxy. The Hereteks had finally created a vehicle that they had felt would suit the name left behind by El Sokauron, 'Balrog'.

The Mark 1 Balrog was similar in appearance to a Predator tank but with larger turret and longer body, and had taller body with sponson weapon ports. Designed for non-Astartes crew of five and armed with 120mm smoothbore cannon that came with laser-sight and advanced targeting system.

While it was not as robust as a Predator, it still had enough sturdiness to match a Leman Russ, while faster than both and could turn the turret faster with greater accuracy with its weapons. Moreover, it came with a pair of point-defence turrets of 'miniguns' that would defend the sides of the tank against missiles or even enemy cannon shells. The usual sponson-mounted weapons of Heavy Bolter were fine weapons to be certain, but they did not have the accuracy or the rate of fire to work as a good point-defence weapons. Therefore, the use of the modified M134 Miniguns had worked wonders. Moreover, the M134 Miniguns quickly became an equipment for the mortal armies of Mandalis, with every other squad carrying a hand-held version of it.

While the two decades had been spent on developing his ground forces, Mandalis did not ignore his fleet.

For the most of the two decades, his fleets would land on the planet in shifts and Chaos Marines would scour the vessels from top to bottom, purging the vessels and re-dedicating them in the name of their new Dark God. The ships were painted in deep dark indigo, with awful nightmarish sculptures would be created and installed on to the vessels by the highly-religious artisans of the Sandor III.

Weapons were repair and armour plates were replaced. Entire decks had to be ripped out and then fixed up, and the ancient systems were checked over. Long-dormant systems were brought back to life once the orbs of energy left behind by El Sokauron were applied to them. New weapons were fitted on, with internal security given great upgrades and repairs.

After two decades, Mandalis had firmly installed himself, and was ready to stretch his wings.

He had already launched surprise attacks on the Imperial worlds within system, breaking the solitary space station above the feudal world of Sandor V whose fat Imperial governor was not even aware of what was happening on Sandor III two decades earlier.

The mining world of Cintea, the moon of Sandor V, was a little tougher, with violent miner gangs refusing to accept the dominion of Chaos and sought to hide in the numerous tunnels. Unfortunately, the dark of the underground was not their friend but a deadly enemy. Using his new powers, Lord Mandalis and his handful of Sorcerers summoned the Nightmares of Diablo, and let them filter into the tunnels.

After five days, the miners had surrendered, through their population had lost almost two million men in that time.

With the Sandor System utterly within his grasp, Mandalis began to dream of spreading the coming of despair.

The Warp

Armageddon Class Battle Cruiser 'Rottenmast'

The Lord El Sokauron, the great master of the Terrorkind and the Dreadfleet, did not sail aboard his flagship. In fact, most of his Dreadfleet was heading back to his stronghold of Magog Cluster in the Maelstrom Zone, currently being blocked against the Imperials by the curtains of darkness in the Warp that no Imperials would dare navigate through.

He had his own reasons as for choosing to ride aboard one of the newer acquisitions to his Dreadfleet. He had organised a task force of elite warriors and small fleet to head to none other than the world of Sarum, the nearest home of the Dark Mechanicus and a mighty Forge World capable of producing an incredible number of deadly weapons.

El Sokauron mused as he sat uncomfortably in his bulky Terminator Armour upon the specially created metal throne capable of holding up his full weight while recharging the mighty armour with both energy and sacrificed souls. Behind his throne, five deep pools had been created to be filled with the blood and bodies of the slaves to fill their master's appetite.

The Chaos Lord had surrounded himself with a cadre of summoned Terminators. Each of these Terminators was greatly enhanced through his dark powers from the 'other world', with the mod to the program pushed its limits. Five squads of Terminators were created with each warrior as unique and as dangerous as an average Chaos Lord if it came to such fights. More importantly, none of these was given names as to be imbued with true sentience. They were flesh puppets, following the mental commands of their master to the exact letter.

There were others too, of course. Two Chaos Sorcerers summoned forth from the program and then submitted to El Sokauron. By their nature, any psychic unit would have a sentience when they are brought into existence rather than being a puppet of the Diablo. Thus, no Eldar creature could be summoned because they would all be sentient, though their soul as empty and hollow as any other summoned creatures. Tyranids and Orks were also of similar condition, but they would need to be summoned in enough numbers to have enough psychic powers to gain sentience.

Chaos Sorcerers, however, would accept El Sokauron's dominion easily, for they were still very corrupted psykers in the worship of the Dark Gods and their foul sorceries.

The mod of the game had allowed El Sokauron to summoned Rubric Marines attached with a Sorcerer. Moreover, he had upgraded the Sorcerer and the Rubrics, and they formed a powerful force to supplement the Terminator bodyguards.

As powerful as he was, he was not a fully-fledged god yet, and he chose to take as little chance as possible, especially when he was in the 40K-universe. This had meant that relying solely on the independently-thinking warriors born from this universe was not an option.

El Sokauron's musing paused when his immense psychic sense caught a whiff of something.

"What is this? A sudden injection of a great power into this section of the Warp?"

The Chaos Lord gritted his teeth and only used his mighty psychic powers of the flesh to pierce the veil. He was still quite wary of his 'brothers' catching him while he was in the nascent form. Many would-be gods were devoured by greater gods of Chaos in the ancient times before the Great Four arose.

His mind's eye saw through the metal and flesh and cast itself against the currents of the Warp.

In the impossible distance, ahead of El Sokauron's fleet, a giant arrow-like burst of energy coursed through the Immaterium and exploded in a million hues of unimaginable colours.

"Tzeentch! I can practically smell that, so what is he doing?"

Great Warp eddies and mini-storms suddenly swept across the sector, with the Realspace suddenly experiencing anything from minor ion storms to a full-scale daemonfall upon an unsuspecting world. Vessels travelling through the Warp, be they Imperials or of Chaos, none were safe.

"My lord, a great quake in the Warp has crippled our ability to navigate!" cried one of the Sorcerers who was not summoned from the game.

The shaking of the vessel stopped when El Sokauron raised his psychic pressure around the vessel. The Lunar class Rex Nigra and a Defiant Class Light Cruiser were close enough to be protected by that field of darkness that calmed the Warp in an oppressive terror, but other vessels beyond that protection saw their vessels swept away or twisted into horrible shapes.

"Prepare for battle, for I fear that my brothers Tzeentch does not wish me to get to where I am headed," commanded El Sokauron as he stood up from his throne.

Then he felt the impact of a thousand piercing sorceries. Spells of inhuman and immense might punched through the thickness of fear itself. Rex Nigra was struck by one such spell, and El Sokauron felt the handful of Chaos Marines and the thousands of Cultists suddenly finding their vessel twist and turn like a rubber duck that has been squeezed and put into a fire. Horrors of Tzeentch appeared across Rex Nigra, opposed by the silent and stalwart Terrorkind Chaos Marines and the Nightmares of Diablo.

As for Rottenmast itself, the presence of the nascent god was enough to block the full power of sorceries, and only the outer decks and corridors saw the appearance of the Pink Horrors, which was quickly swarmed over by the tens of thousands of Cultists and Heretics as well as Nightmares that danced and sang their mourning wails.

"It cannot be so easy," whispered El Sokauron as he focused his mind, "There is no way that Tzeentch would play it so simply… Ah… There it is…"

Even as he had said it, a new presence invaded his ship.

He saw it.

A badly broken Hades Class Heavy Cruiser covered in flayed human skins and metal-coated skulls had pierced through the eddies of the Warp, and came so near the Rottenmast that the underside of the Hades class scraped against the top of the Armageddon class Battle Cruiser, and broke one of the Lance Batteries.

The Hades class fired its broadside even as the two ships touched, and punched holes into the top of the Rottenmast, sending hundreds of crew and slaves and Cultists into the vacuum of space and the insanity of the Warp outside.

"That is not of Tzeentch. They are Khorne's warriors," whispered El Sokauron as Chaos Marines began pouring out from the Hades class vessel and jumped into the holes that it had made upon El Sokauron's vessel.

Suddenly, El Sokauron's attention was brought back to his physical presence.

All around the massive cavernous throne room were bloody mists beginning to seep through the walls and doors.

"They come!" roared one of the Aspiring Champions as he brandished his Chainsword against a particularly thick cloud of mist.

Brrrrrrr! Crrrack!

Before the Aspiring Champion could block, a Chainaxe came out from the mist and slammed into the skull of the Champion, and it was quickly followed by a Chaos Marine in red with golden trims.

From all around the throne room appeared these strange warriors of Khorne.

"Khorne's ilk but none of his would sorceries… unless it is a blessing of the Blood God to bring them closer to the slaughter," growled El Sokauron as his Terminators formed a perimeter around him.

Other than his twenty-five Terminators and two squads of Rubrics with summoned Sorcerers, El Sokauron had about six squads of Chaos Marines scattered around the large throne room, each squad led by a prominent figure within the Terrorkind.

The Aspiring Champion whose skull was just crushed had been a former Word Bearer who sought for power to strike fear into enemies' hearts, and he gained it from Diablo.

El Sokauron had quickly noticed that while his enemy was attacking him with surprising and ingenious methods, the number of Khorne's warriors were not so great. In his gaze, thirteen portals of bloody mists had formed and each poured out somewhere between three to five warriors.

No more than forty Khornates had appeared and battled El Sokauron's sixty plus the twenty Rubrics that calmly gunned down the enemies.

It was then that the main armoured door across the throne room had exploded inward, sending a massive shard of the door at the Chaos Lord. The piece stopped just in front of El Sokauron, mere centimetres from the raised hand of the Chaos Lord. The immense telekinetic grip of the nascent Chaos God had then crushed the door shard into dozens of pieces and sent it back.

The spears of metal formed from the door had quickly struck those who charged through the opened door. Four Chaos Marines in red armour and black helmets were struck by the spears and promptly exploded in gore and inky ichor.

It was not just a new kind of Khornate Chaos Marines that came through the door, but a wave of Bloodletters came through, their incorporeal bodies ignoring all physical attacks until they were in positions to rematerialize. Only the Sorcerers and their psychic powers sent the daemons flying back.

El Sokauron seemed amused.

"So, Khorne and Tzeentch had allied themselves, or at least Tzeentch has decided to aid Khorne in this misguided venture."

The table had quickly turned.

Almost ten of the Terrorkind had been slain by the time the new enemies had come, and an influx of almost fifty Bloodletters and thirty Chaos Marines was not the ideal situation.

Of course, El Sokauron was not quite willing to unleash his Terminators yet, for he did not wish to show his hand before the enemy raised the bet.

The summoned Rubrics and their Sorcerer leaders quickly mowed down another ten of those who come from the bloody mists, while the rest of the Terrorkind faced the Bloodletters. Then the Terminators with ranged weapons began to fire just as El Sokauron began to send forth great indigo Warpfire from the palm of the Lightning Claw on his left hand while blocking stray shots at him with his daemonic sword.

"What is your next move?" whispered the Chaos Lord.

"Kill their leader!" roared a voice from behind the waves of Chaos Marines at the front door.

Twenty new Chaos Marines came rushing in, this time led by Aspiring Champions of their own and then quickly followed by a squad of Possessed Marines. Fresh daemons appeared, with the Bloodletters to the front of the throne room while the Horrors of Tzeentch smeared out from the wall behind the throne.

The door to the left of throne room shattered and four Khornate Terminators came through with another a dozen Chaos Marines of the same kind as the ones from the mist. The mist-portals sent forth another wave of Chaos Marines before disappearing, and the Terrorkind began to fall back to the circle of Terminators around their master.

El Sokauron waved his Lightning Claw and black lightning arc showered four Chaos Marines and a Bloodletter, and they fell. The Chaos Marines were hollowed out, their flesh burnt and souls drained, while the Bloodletter was banished instantly. The daemon sword of the Chaos Lord was raised and a flare of dark blue pulse filled the room, and thin fumes of energy wrapped themselves around the Bloodletters and enemy Chaos Marines, visibly slowing them down.

The Possessed of the enemy tore apart the Terrorkind Chaos Marines, for their daemon-inhabited flesh was stronger than any average Astartes.

"You have played your turn, and it is mine to cast my cards."

El Sokauron's daemon sword pointed upward towards the ceiling above the Possessed Marines of the enemy, and the part of the ceiling opened.

Before the enemy could realise what was happening, dozens of four-armed creatures came jumping down. They were upgraded and stabilised versions of Bile's Manglers, the abominable creatures mixed with Tyranid Genestealers and Eldar. The power of the Dark God was enough to see the problems and fixed it enough to make good use of the creatures.

While still with four arms and razor-sharp claws capable of rending Astartes Power Armour and moving as nimbly as the Eldar, the neural restructure chips in their brains and a layer of modified carapace armour had allowed these creatures to be a real threat in the field. Even the Possessed Marines had trouble dealing with almost forty of such monstrous creatures.

As for the four Terminators and more Khornate warriors to the left, it was for El Sokauron's own Terminators to deal with them.

One of the five squads moved and faced the enemy.

Five Terminators versus four Terminators supported by a dozen Chaos Marines did not seem fair, yet, only El Sokauron knew of his warriors' capabilities.

First of the Terrorkind's Terminator had a pair of Lightning Claws but he also breathed fire through his helmet with the intensity of a Heavy Flamer. A charging Bloodletter was bathed in flame before the Lightning Claws tore it apart.

The second Terminator had an Autocannon and a Power Fist, but the Autocannon shells exploded in flames, lightning and acidic spray. Two Chaos Marines were quickly downed by the bombardment of intensive Autocannon fire that quickly turned the two warriors into burning sludge sizzling with electricity.

The third Terminator was equipped with a Power Maul and a strange weapon that looked to be four Plasma Guns fused together and sprinkled with the essence of a Nightmare of Diablo. From its four barrels came searing plasma of darkest purple hue that struck a Chaos Marine and proceeded to melt the warrior from inside out. A counter-attack by the enemy Terminator's Power Fist was parried with the Power Maul, which broke the enemy's Power Fist into shattered shards.

The fourth Terminator faced an enemy Terminator, both side equipped with a Storm Bolter, and a melee weapon. The enemy had stolen the Storm Bolter from a Loyalist, and he fired it at the Terrorkind's Terminator, only to have almost all the rounds simply bounce off the superior armour. On the other hand, the Terrorkind Terminator's Storm Bolter fired Kraken Penetrator rounds right into the chest of the enemy before the Chainfist wreathed in daemonic flame plunged into the hole.

The final Terminator had a Meltagun in one hand and a large Power Axe on the other. The Meltagun fired like a shotgun but in triple blasts, enough to bring an enemy Terminator to his knees before the Power Axe cut through the enemy like a hot knife through butter, the Terminator armour and all.

Despite the successes of his modifications, El Sokauron could not enjoy the fight of his Terminators.

The enemy had unleashed his next move.

The door to the right exploded open to reveal the giant shape of a Helbrute, wielding a large hammer and a Power Fist. Around it was another rank of Bloodletters, nearly thirty in number.

"So, you think you have me surrounded," muttered El Sokauron as he sent two of his Terminator squads toward the Helbrute, "but this is weak. You cannot think you can slay me with these pitiful few nameless thugs."

"No, this is just the beginning for you," replied the faceless opponent from behind the ranks of his warriors.

"Show yourself now, boy. You really think I will not be able to hunt you down even if you seek to obscure your presence here."

"I am but a herald of the doom upon you, for the Blood God has not failed to notice your existence. Even now he sends his executioner for your skull, O' Would-Be-God," taunted the enemy.

El Sokauron hid his smirk as the pressure of the Immaterium intensified around his throne room. His psychic presence alone could not contend with the will of both Khorne and Tzeentch. Unlike Tzeentch, whose volleys of ever-changing bursts of spells were so insidious and subtle, the presence of Khorne was thick with the tinge of the metallic taste of blood.

"Executioner? What, did you bring someone like Khârn the Betrayer? Even he cannot stop me now," boasted El Sokauron, though he was quite certain that Khârn would be a challenge.

"No, I have someone better," replied the foe.

In his mind's eye, El Sokauron could hear the distant howl of Khorne, his immense burning rage searing through the Immaterium like a great bonfire of a thousand souls. His wrath was so great, and in that wave of the immeasurable heat of impossibility rode his herald.

The air above the handful of surviving Terrorkind Astartes shimmered violently as the very fabric of space itself was rent from reality and a gaping bleeding hole appeared. Through it came more Bloodletters, in their scores. Almost instantly, the surviving nine Chaos Marines of the Terrorkind were slaughtered by the Hellblade of the Bloodletters, and the daemons roared at the two squads of remaining Terminators that still stood silent sentinel around their master.

The Rubrics behind the throne were also being pressed, though the two Sorcerers were still alive. Reduced to half strength, but these Rubrics were also modified heavily, and that gave them such powers to decimate the Pink Horrors and the scattered Blue Horrors.

The Rubric Marines of El Sokauron were not only deadly accurate with their incredibly empowered bolter that fired sorcerous bolt rounds, they were also given unnatural abilities for the guns. At almost ten percent chance, the bolters of the Rubrics exploded. Each explosion had half chance of erupting in a great purple fire of burning souls that was enough to sear a whole Horror out from reality, while the other half chance was an explosion of thick indigo smoke that ate away at the very essence of the daemons. In close combat, these Rubrics mounted a mouthpiece of a reinforced speaker that wails a funeral song at low but heavy volume, and even the Horrors of Tzeentch were flung backwards in a tumble of a nightmarish quake.

The summoned Sorcerers were powerful also. Their armour and flesh were as tough as that of a Chaos Lord's, and both Sorcerers had a halo of darkness around their back, from which a random burst of Doombolt would shoot at the enemy. One Sorcerer had a staff, from which bolts of lightning exploded upon the enemy and skewered them like a physical blade before shattering the caught-enemy. The other Sorcerer waved his daemonic sword and a Plasma Pistol, with the pistol firing skull-shaped plasma that split into five smaller explosive plasma balls upon impact while the daemonic sword was encrusted with an indigo flame that ate the attacks of Horrors.

With his back secure, El Sokauron moved a step forward and unleashed an even greater storm of lightning that tore through seven Bloodletters with one wave of the hand. The ten Terminators still standing guard were firing their ranged weapons even faster, with Autocannons shattering the enemy Chaos Marines while the Heavy Flamers torched the daemons.

Yet, El Sokauron was keeping his eyes upon that hole in the air, still pouring out Bloodletters.

"Here comes the challenger!" roared the enemy.

From the hole in the space came a screech of blood-curdling cacophony, and dropped a large Bloodletter, clad in armour and a skirt of skulls, wielding a large Hellblade and a burning skull.

"Ah… The Sacred Executioner of Khorne indeed. To send forth U'Zuhl against me was a deed that would ring with infamy across the Warp," chuckled El Sokauron, "But, you have failed to see the truth of the matter. Though I am not yet born, I AM A GOD!"

The Skulltaker roared as it swung its blade and beheaded the nearest Bloodletter for the fun of it.

El Sokauron was not having it.

He reached from deep within and pulled out the power beyond his physical psychic potential.

The very air around him crackled and wrinkled and trembled.

Shimmering like a ghost, the Morghastur filled the flesh-vessel of the nascent God.

Diablo took a step in the flesh.

The room changed.

It was no longer filled with reddish blood hue nor the ever-altering blue, but deep silent indigo, the absolute oppression of a sorrowful despair and the terror of it all.

Built with the power of a god brought into reality, the massive Terminator Armour of the Chaos Lord began to shimmer and expand. Horns grew atop the armour. Scales protruded from places. The cloak changed into tentacles.

Even the flesh changed, the human-like face of El Sokauron became something else, darker and quite impossible to pinpoint, but awful nonetheless.

The two remaining squads of Terminators clashed against waves of Bloodletters, their enhanced nature allowing them with withstand the Hellblades of the Khorne's daemons while the mighty weapons tearing apart the daemon-flesh with as much ease as man-flesh.

It was amid this din that the Skulltaker leapt over his kin and came at the El Sokauron.

Yet, to challenge a new god, it was not so simple.

Nightmares of Diablo suddenly came out from every corner of darkness and floors and ceiling and pillars and corpses. Tentacles and wide open eyes of a hundred different types, maws filled with fangs and blocky flat teeth and acid-dripping serrated metal molars bit upon the enemies of their god.

This was his place of power, and not even the might of Khorne the Blood God could sway the balance here.

Nightmares numbered almost exactly one-on-one for each daemon of Khorne and Tzeentch, and a few more to fight the Possessed, though only half of the Possessed now remained thanks to the Manglers of Bile.

For the infamous Skulltaker, the new God sent forth five Nightmares upon the Sacred Executioner of Khorne.

The Skulltaker swung its blade upon the first Nightmare, but the Nightmare was not like a Bloodletter but more like a Horror, and less like a Horror but more like a Daemonette, and less like a Daemonette but more like a Plaguebearer.

The flesh was cut but the flesh wove itself around the blade, holding it in place despite the endless hatred of the daemonic blade searing through its indigo flesh. Two tentacles went for the Skulltaker's eyes, but the Blood God's daemon bit off the tentacles. A second Nightmare came upon the Skulltaker and attacked it from behind. The Skulltaker spun, thrusting his blade into the second, and crashing the first Nightmare into the second. If it had been a mortal, it would have been surprised that the two Nightmares merged temporarily before returning to two individual daemons again.

The third Nightmare was not so lucky as the renewed flames of the Hellblade had cut through its body in whole, and tore the daemon in two. The flaming skull in the other hand of the Skulltaker has shoved down the maw of the first Nightmare and burnt the indigo daemon from within.

The fourth and the second Nightmares wrapped themselves around the Skulltaker's legs, but the red daemon was fast. It jumped and slashed downwards, cutting the second Nightmare's head in two, but the two bits merged and trapped his blade for a single second.

The fifth Nightmare charged and flung itself against the Skulltaker.

The impact of a daemon crashing into it had sent the Skulltaker backwards, almost making it lose its grip on its blade. Yet, the Sacred Executioner of Khorne was not a title idly borne.

U'Zuhl roared and thick halo of bloody mist formed around the daemon and sent the Nightmares backwards. Frenzied, the Skulltaker slashed at the fifth Nightmare and cut it into four pieces before flinging a burning skull into the face of the fourth Nightmare, sending the indigo daemon screaming and wailing.

It was in this moment that transformed El Sokauron made his move.

Half-casted with Morghastur, the great tentacled-sword came swinging down with ferocious speed that rent the very space and time around it. An implosion of Immaterium seared through the reality, and the Skulltaker, having evaded the attack by the paper-thin margin, growled as the tiny cut to his armour festered and tore further into the rest of that piece.

Ripping out the chest plate, U'Zuhl howled in rage and a greater flame arose from his sword, only to face the downward swing of the Morghastur's sword that writhed with ghostly tentacles.

The two blades' meeting sent all daemons and mortals flying backwards. The boots of Terminators screeched and sparked as they were pushed skidding backwards, while only the Skulltaker and the Morghastur stood their place.

U'Zuhl replied with a side cut and a thrust, but the Morghastur was not so easily wounded. The other hand, covered now in writhing tentacles of metal, bone and flesh, with knuckles of living skulls and talons of burning souls, blocked that cut and parried that thrust.

Thick fume of despair poured at the Skulltaker from the maw of Morghastur. That maw of deepest abyssal chasm let forth horrors beyond imagination, but the power of Khorne was such that no sorcery would touch his truest servants. Though the thick leathery skin of the daemon burned and sizzled and vaporised in pieces, the red daemon stood its ground.

A swipe of claws came at the Khorne's executioner, and it was dodged, only to face the incoming sword. The Hellblade once again met the sword of the new god, and another impact sent daemons and Astartes back.

This time, U'Zuhl experienced something that it had never felt before. It felt its knees almost give for a single moment from the impact, but it could not think of such things as its own frenzy was boiling inside. Yet, even that could not stop the second coming of the claws.

The left shoulder armour piece was shredded and deep gashes appeared, and the essence of Khorne leaked from the wound as the festering despair and ideas of giving up began to seep into that wound. Roaring, the Skulltaker breathed flame, shrouding itself and its enemy with the rage-flame of Khorne.

The wound was cauterised but the Morghastur was not affected and came again and again the mighty tentacle-sword, each block sending Skulltaker closer to being overwhelmed.

Inundated with such terrifying impact upon its flesh and essence, the Skulltaker renewed its hate and fury. For a moment, it took back the upper hand, and slashed at the armoured Morghastur before it, chipping the daemon-infused armour, but these cuts were too shallow.

The Morghastur moved like octopus and wriggled like a snake and seeped into spaces like fog. A flash of an explosion between the claws of the new god and the Hellblade had momentarily blinded the red daemon, which then hurried rolled on the floor to evade the enemy's sword.

A kick came, sending the Sacred Executioner of Khorne crashing into another Bloodletter.

U'Zuhl never recovered from that mistake.

The tentacle-sword came thrusting and pierced the flesh. The essence of the Blood God burned and was consumed.

It was timed to cut the losses, deemed the Skulltaker, and it faded away, fleeing the enemy for the first time in its existence.

Without the Skulltaker as the anchor, the hole in the air shimmered away, and Bloodletters began to falter and fade. Horrors of Tzeentch were clever enough to flee the moment that the Skulltaker had vanished, and soon only daemonic presence was the two surviving Possessed Marines that was being swarmed over by five Manglers.

El Sokauron now saw the puppeteer, a Sorcery Lord of Chaos, a rare sight for a Khornate Warband, though it was suspected that Tzeentch had tricked Khorne into this action. There were too many blessings of both Khorne and Tzeentch upon this individual, and the presence of Morghastur was too heavy to interfere.

The sneering Sorcerer Lord began to step through a portal to escape.

Suddenly, a sword punched through the Sorcerer Lord's left thigh, and a Power Fist slammed into the chest of El Sokauron's enemy.

The Sorcerer Lord was flung back and was sprawled not few meters from El Sokauron's steps.

From the portal appeared three Astartes, one a Sorcerer himself, and two with powerful artificer armour and weapons.

"The Black Legion, the warriors of the Warmaster Abaddon," muttered El Sokauron even as the Morghastur faded from his flesh.

The warriors that interfered with the escape of the strange occurrence of a Khornate Sorcerer were indeed of the Black Legion.

"What does the Despoiler know of this treachery against me?" asked El Sokauron, with his Lightning Claw now casting powerful binding upon the wounded Sorcerer Lord on the floor.

"Great Lord, I come with the voice of the Despoiler. He wishes for a parley, for he knows you not, and you know him only through reputation," replied the Sorcerer of the Black Legion.

El Sokauron was quite sure that the reason that Abaddon had not directly contacted him was everything to do with politics within the Black Legion itself, and ambitions of the Warmaster.

"So, his cabals have divined my presence," said El Sokauron.

"We have indeed done so, my lord. He wishes to know that if he supports your ascension to… the greater being…" mumbled the Sorcerer.

"When I am fully realised, and my ascension to GODHOOD is complete, then I shall have full faith in the Warmaster… should he have faith in me," El Sokauron answered with the right answer that Abaddon had wanted to hear.

The Sorcerer smiled behind his helmet.

"Thank you, my lord. I believe that Lord Abaddon shall look upon you favourably while you are a mortal, and would certainly have faith in the new Chaos God."

Of course, El Sokauron knew that this feigned humbleness from Abaddon was a pure ruse. One false step and El Sokauron would see the full might of the Black Legion upon him. Strong was the scent of Tzeentch's convoluted plans, though El Sokauron.

"The Dark Mechanicum has pledged significant resources to my master, and he is quite willing to give some of such favours to you, Lord El Sokauron," said the messenger of Abaddon.

"I shall accept this tribute with gladness," answered El Sokauron, and found it interesting that the Sorcerer frowned at the wording of his reply.

After all, tribute was not what Abaddon would phrase it to be.

El Sokauron knew that he was pushing it, and testing waters.

"This 'gift', my lord, is a generous one for such a small… Warband."

"The size of my Warband is as immaterial as the Corpse Emperor's voice. I do wish for a good relation with the Warmaster, and shall support him in further ventures, and when I ascend, I shall remember this 'gift' with fondness," said El Sokauron.

"Great thanks, my lord."

END OF CHAPTER 36