"You will never master violence if you do not learn to enjoy it."
-Qa'leh, Chapter Two of the Mataru Kov Slaandra.
War was an old friend.
He has fought daemon armies in the shadow of the first human city's burning husk. Broke apart every single vault-world for the Hundred Year Empire. Matched himself against terrible alien might in both Galactic Wars.
The difference between those and this particular war was that this time, the entirety of the Warp was at stake. The future, formerly a infinitely spiraling maze of probabilities was now cut off by an impenetrable fog, the monster gestating in the Warp bending causality around itself as it fed. This was only the beginning, and even Adam did not know for certain what would happen if it reached maturity in full. Would it simply devour all those who had helped bring it into existence, like how parasites killed their hosts? Or would it empower them, returning as the head of a new pantheon and bolstering the already formidable powers of the Aeldari?
There was only one thing that he knew for certain if that nightmare ever came to pass. The Three would awaken in full, and the Warp would become much worse than it already was. Even the Second Galactic War had only threatened the physical survival of life in the galaxy; this war, should humanity lose, would affect it on a metaphysical scale.
He had known that this would happen eventually, ever since mankind stepped out of the galactic stage. Throughout all the peaks and lows of human history, as he guided them from the shadows, Adam had known that if humanity were to ever rule the stars, then war with the fallen masters of the galaxy would be inevitable.
He just didn't think it would be so soon. The Federation wasn't ready— maybe would never be ready, but circumstances had forced his hand. Even so, doubt still festered inside him. The defensive plan would have been the safest option. With the rate of technological progress that humanity was in, they could have figured out how to mass-produce planetary-scale Gellar Fields within a millennium. After that, it would just be a matter of sitting out the storm.
But humans were prideful, and so was he. Laying down without fighting back was anathema to them. And so now they fought, bringing death across the stars in one last gamble for survival. It was too late to turn back now, for him and his species both, and so Adam gave it his all. He wasn't fighting on the front lines, of course. The time was not yet desperate enough for him to reveal himself in full. But that didn't mean Adam was sitting out on the sidelines at all. Unheard and unseen, he manipulated the Warp in humanity's favor, pushing ships along so they arrived faster at their destination and calming turbulent tides that threatened to break Gellar Fields, while also using his powers to lessen the presence of Chaos on whatever battlefields that he could reach.
His Ultrarchs too were sowing discord among the ranks of the Aeldari. The Interloper was performing wonderfully in Shaa-Dom, turning the noble houses against each other and drawing away attention from the humans at their gates. The Wolf was busy scavenging artifacts from the forgotten vaults of the Empire. Adam gently pushed a Federation fleet forward, speeding their arrival so that they would arrive earlier by a week, phosphex warheads ready to fall on a planetary shipyard, and contemplated his equals in the Great Game.
The queen of the end plotted in her tower, and he did not know what she has planned. Nor does he know if he can kill her, when the time comes. She is strong. Stronger than anything he has ever faced. He cannot face her alone. The Mistress of Blades had survived her encounter with the Federation's greatest killer of psykers, reinforcing the unwelcome fact that for all of mankind's technology there were still monsters beyond them.
His gaze landed on Kathicia, the first psyker who has risen to heights anywhere close to him, standing on a barren planet and waiting for the hateful storm descending upon her. She is everything that he hopes humanity can become; strong and right and just, flourishing without his help. Adam was afraid for her, as he watched the Red Crone howl in the Warp and burn her way through, all the hatred and grief of the Aeldari made manifest. But the High Marshal has come this far without his aid, and he must trust in her.
His musings were interrupted by a communications ping. Not a good sign— anything that required his attention now was more often bad news than not. The origin of the ping confirmed his suspicions: Molech.
He immediately opened the communications channel, and was greeted by the familiar face of Shinji. The Perpetual in charge of guarding Molech for this century, the man with Oriental features was frowning at him, with a naginata in one hand.
"Adam." His fellow Perpetual was quick to the point. "There's something here that requires your attention."
"I'm a little busy here, Shinji." Adam extended his will, blocking off a Greater Daemon from manifesting in a Federation cruiser in a void battle. "We have protocols for any anomalies on the planet. Use them."
"There isn't a protocol for this one." Shinji said slowly. "I'm not sure why— maybe it's the war— but something new has awakened down there. It wants to talk to you."
"Engage the containment protocols one through five then. Lock the subrealm down and raise the shields. I can't afford distractions at this point."
"No, Adam. It's..." Shinji said hesitantly. "I recognized the soul of that thing. It has your voice."
Adam's heart sank.
[...]
The blob of flesh that was Lukaen Emrys woke up.
He remembered the fight that had sent him here. Oh, that had been wonderful, the first real fight he had in ages. Idly, Lukaen began picking apart the Aeldari's fighting style in his mind. He would have to find some way to counter that flaming greatsword the next time they met- maybe some sort of shield...
"Emrys." A voice said coldly, dragging him out of his pleasant reverie. "I know you're already awake, so be a good soldier for once and listen."
He would have rolled his eye, if he had one at the moment. "Krole." Since he was in a healing tank, the only way he could communicate with the outside world was through a virtual reality simulator. The program activated, and he was in a simulated projection of an office space, back in his old human body.
In front of him, sitting behind the desk was the half-metal body of one Jeanne Krole, fellow Blank. "Awfully terrible performance from you, Emrys. We keep you around for one thing, and you can't even get that right."
Lukaen hissed. "I'd like to see you try any better... ma'am."
The Vice-Militant of the Longinus Legion sneered at him. "Unfortunately, I have better things to do like planning the logistics of this clusterfuck of a war, while you roll around in the mud."
"Oh fuck you, bitch." Lukaen shot back. "Don't you have anything better to do than come around here and piss me off?" Before they had ended up in their current positions, both of them had served in one of the Longinus Legion's elite killteams. Their working relationship had been nothing close to amicable.
"As a matter of fact, I don't." Jeanne leaned back in her chair. "I had some spare processing power left over, so I decided to visit my old teammate." The sentence was laced with bitter poison. Like Lukaen, Krole had forsaken her original body of flesh long ago, replacing it with a chassis more suited for data processing instead. Her true body resided on one of the Longinus Legion's flagships, connected to massive computers that were constantly monitoring combat reports from all over the galaxy. "As fun as riling you up is, I actually came here to conduct official business. For one, we retrieved the combat data from your broken chassis, so the Iron Minds finally got to analyze one of the Dark Muses in action. They didn't like what they saw."
"I don't know about that, I was pleasantly surprised."
"Unlike you, they actually have a war to fight instead of satisfying their murderlust. On another subject, salvage teams have retrieved the wreckage of the Fortress you destroyed." The Admiral continued. "There's enough surplus that we have decided to allocate a suitable amount to you. You'll be receiving a new chassis— the Y-210. Sending schematics over to you now."
Lukaen slowly read the technical printouts. "Is this feasible, and not an engineer's pipe dream?"
"Plans for a hypothetical chassis of that type were already long in circulation before the start of the war, so they were simply constrained by lack of blackstone. It's already been built and being shipped over to your location."
"Hm." Lukaen gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "Well, this looks fun."
"Do better and kill that thing the next time we meet her, or the Federation isn't going to survive more of these monsters running around. An Alpha-Plus psyker who knows what they're doing is a threat unlike any other. We only have one on our side, and look at what she's capable of."
"If she's so capable, then why won't she fight me?" Lukaen had requested sparring sessions with the High Marshal in the past, but she had turned all of them down. He was still rather sore about it.
"Because we probably look and feel like disgusting cockroaches to her?" Jeanne answered. "You more than me, of course. Besides, given your less than spotless track record no one really wants to see you slip and and murder Jorenn."
"I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." Lukaen idly stretched his virtual limbs.
"Like that time you nearly got all of us killed during Calacutta?"
"You know I can't pass up a good massacre." Lukaen smirked at her. "Why are you mad anyways? You survived that one."
"Half of our squad died, you absolute scumbag!"
"People die all the time, Krole."
"Fuck you." Jeanne jabbed a finger at him. "I'd tell you to go to hell, but there probably isn't one for us." With a disgusted noise, she cut the connection.
Lukaen scowled to himself. People moralizing at him was really one of the more annoying parts of his life. Couldn't they just try to kill him instead? Everything would be so much more simpler and enjoyable.
No matter. He went back to thinking about his rematch with the Aeldari blademistress, but this time with his new body in mind. That pile bunker on the left arm in conjunction with his spear opened up so many new possibilities. Yes, the next time he wouldn't lose, he was sure of it.
He couldn't wait to cut her head off.
[...]
Seething red mist heralded Hekatii's arrival as she tore herself out into realspace. With scythes in hand she lashed out in a preemptive strike, turning everything around her for miles into rubble. As she stood up, she realized that she hadn't hit anything of importance at all— there was no one in her vicinity, which immediately put the Inquisitor on edge. Hekatii hissed, the Aeldari finally wrestling her blind rage back into submission and forcing it back into the crevices of her mind. The human had to be here. The trail had ended at this exact point, and she would have seen the human running through the Ocean if she had fled.
The Red Crone expanded her senses, letting her perception roam across the entire world. This was a barren planet, with nothing but great masses of rock, mountains and volcanoes. The sky was a greyish black color, the atmosphere thin. A world on the cusp of growing the first traces of life— and bereft of any civilization.
This clearly stank of a trap, and Hekatii cursed out loud. The prudent thing to do now would be to walk away; standing here for an ambush was simply folly. But the Red Crone still had her ego, and to escape now would be to forfeit her pride entirely. And so, she cast her senses out and began to search. The planet was truly empty; nothing more complex than microorganisms resided on its surface. There was nothing irregular in the Great Ocean either, with barely any daemons at all due to there being no sentient life to prey on.
She pushed her senses further. Nothing was out of place in the planetary system, either. Had the human actually left? No, that couldn't be right. She pulled her soul-sight close, scouring the planet she was on more thoroughly instead. There. A small patch of the Great Ocean, just a slightly bit too still. Grinning, Hekatii lashed out with a single strike. She would tear that disguise apart like paper—
Chains of pure silver exploded from thin air and wrapped around her limbs and torso, dragging her down to the ground. A lightning bolt fell down from the sky, smashing into the dome of her head. More came, the successive strikes driving the Aeldari down on one knee as the earth around her boiled and turned to black glass from electrical discharge, Hekatii's armor turning into a charred, melted ruin. The lightning was more than a physical attack— it seared her soul, gouging at her essence. It would have turned any lesser psyker into nothing more than ashes, and pain surged through every fibre of Hekatii's being.
+The suffering ends here, Hekatii.+ The human's voice echoed around her without a source. It wasn't filled with taunting this time, just determination and perhaps a slight hint of sadness. +Both yours, and those that you have and will butcher.+ Hekatii's world was turning white with electricity, plasma crawling over her skin as the torrent of Warp-lightning continued to hammer down on her.
As if this was enough to kill her.
Rage thrummed through Hekatii's veins at the indignity of being forced down to a knee, and with a great shout she threw out her arms and shattered the chains binding her, swinging her scythe in an arc. A slash of crackling red light exploded forward, cutting through the rest of the lightning. +And how will you end me? You are not even Aeldari. You are no one.+
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Behind the last bolt in the shadow of thunder, Kathicia Jorenn plunged down from the heavens with the force of a comet, the skies themselves parting at her passing. With one hand, she caught the slash and crushed it, the fragments turning to clear ice as piercing blue eyes glowed with resolve. Raising Astrahkhan with both of her hands, she answered the question.
+With defiance.+
Hekatii howled, the fury in her soul rising to new heights as she brought up her scythes in a blocking motion. Weapons met with the force that only Alpha-Plus psykers could muster, and unbreakable adamant crashed against the furious storm.