Chapter 2: Chaos Engaged (Par 2)


In an act that long ago exceeded tradition and became almost ritualistic in nature I reverently take a sip from the centuries old bottle of Bacardi Rum...and feel my mouth curl in distaste, even as a nostalgic feeling sweeps over me.

Sure, the actual drink itself has been replaced several times over, but it's the container that counts.

It'd been passed down through my family for centuries, the bottle itself being used as a sort of heirloom and inheritance. My Father had just given it to me for my 21st birthday, a sort of coming of age deal, when Teshub had incarnated and ruined my life in the span of less than a minute.

I'd gotten my revenge on him though...turns out Gods don't like it when you survive what should be lethal electrical burns and shove a kitchen knife through their neck.

Either way, all I'd had left by the end of that mess was my newly found status as a Campione...and this damn bottle, somehow surviving despite all the shit being thrown around during the Heretic God's rampage.

...I guess you could call it my last surviving link to my previous life, almost 93 years ago and counting.

Heaving a sigh I cork the thing and lock it in my strongbox, a Magically reinforced stasis pocket that can keep it's contents preserved for all of eternity, provided a steady source of power is provided.

Sitting on the edge of my sleeping pallet I affectionately run a hand through the Sister's hair, the two of them huddled together in a peaceful sleep that's hard to come by on most days.

...I dunno if it was the whole, 'getting transported to another universe' thing or, 'bajillion different gods all over the damn place and oh shit we're screwed' thing...but the sex had been much more intense than it normally is, leaving them plenty worn out.

"Slayer Adeyemi, the armory is requesting your presence as soon as you are available. Initial examination of equipment and biological samples have yielded interesting results."

I sigh and crack my neck before replying, "Ok Chesty, tell em' I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"Understood, Slayer Adeyemi."

...Administrative details are not my strong suit. Being a psychotic deity murderer is.

I'm just about to reach for the doors palm scanner-

-when every instinct I have screams at me to get ready, Ternion Thunderlord's chant on the tip of my tongue as I whirl around-

-and have to blink once at the rather bizarre image in front of me.

A massive man wearing an enormous suit of golden armor standing peacefully before me, a face like one of those old Terran Native American war chiefs, face regal and lined, bespeaking of wisdom and knowledge.

...The more rational part of my mind notes that the suit he's wearing is uncomfortably similar to the ones those crazy cult guys earlier had.

But what's up with the massive fuck-off claw on his left arm? Or the giant freaking Eagle motif on the back? Are those even practical?!

Out of the corner of my eye I see Angelique and Cassandra already flanking this newcomer, awake and ready in a flash once they'd sensed danger.

"I mean none of you any harm, be at ease."

The voice catches me off guard, it being a roiling, authoritative bass that somehow also integrates compassion into its tone.

Scowling I growl back, "Yah, well, sorry if I'm a little skeptical about that claim right there. That fancy armor of yours seems pretty damn similar to the ones some freakazoids we just finished fighting not more than a few hours ago were wearing..."

The being's face grows stormy for a second, not too dissimilar to a Heretic God's when they're sufficiently pissed, but the anger disappears after a moment and is instead replaced by thoughtfulness.

"An understandable conclusion, Child...but make no mistake, those traitors are no allies of mine."

"Oh yah? Care to prove it?"

"Unfortunately, I currently have no way of doing so. All I request of you is that you allow me the opportunity to explain."

The sisters shoot me brief glances and I slowly ease out of my crouch before walking up to the massive figure and extending a finger...that phases right through the giant's chestplate without a whisper of resistance.

Insubstantial huh? Well, that's good enough for me.

"Alright, feel free to start explaining."

The ghost person stares at me with a perplexed expression before politely asking, "Do you not wish to clothe yourself first?"

I glance down at my nude form alongside the sisters and shrug indifferently.

"I'm fine this way. Hanging my dangly bits out in the open isn't that big of a deal for me."

"Very well..."

Taking a moment to compose himself the phantasm begins in a sonorous tone, "I am called by the title, 'Emperor of Mankind' and I represent all of Humanity that live amongst the stars. Where you have arrived we call the 'Warp'. I'm uncertain if you have knowledge of an equivalent of the Warp where you come from, but in brief the Warp is a seething mass of energy, an inverse of our own plane of existence that can be manipulated by the emotions and will of those with a connection to it."

Cassandra suddenly murmurs, "I knew it was like the Primordial Stew..."

I can't help but snort and wryly interject with, "Except for the direct manipulation part..."

There had been some theories back home that the Domain of Immortality where Gods reside was a form of Quantum Sea, being a completely different dimension that was somehow also connected to ours, shaped by our beliefs.

So I guess this 'Warp' is similar to that somehow?

...Wait...if they're similar...and those four Gods me and the sisters have been sensing can be considered the 'leaders'…and their power can be manipulated by Human emotions...

"Hey, Emperor Guy. You said you're the representative of Humanity, right? Just, many Humans are there, currently?"

"While the Imperium of Man once stretched beyond a million inhabited worlds, recent events have likely reduced that a few hundred thousand."


"I'm sorry, could you slow down with the movement of lips and tongue there for a second? I thought you just said, 'millions' of worlds?"

"At one time there was that many...not so any longer. Tens of trillions of Imperial citizens are now, in all likelihood, merely trillions."

"TRILLIONS?! On a million worlds?! How the FUCK does that even function?! We only have a couple hundred and we can't get more than five planets to agree on anything for more than a few years!"

The slightest hint of a smile-or maybe it's a grimace, I dunno-crosses the man's face and he explains, "It is not a perfect system, especially the one that has arisen gradually over the past ten thousand years or so, but it is workable. Unfortunately I do not have the time necessary to explain in intricate detail all the myriad facets of the Imperium's workings."

...Something about what he just said worries me.

"Wait, you said 'over the past ten thousand years or so'. Umm...this may sound a little weird, but you guys wouldn't happen to use a calendar that uses the Anno Domini dates would you? Or Common Era?"

If we didn't actually end up in another universe, but in the far future...well, that's not much better than an alternate universe, given the state of things, but at least we're somewhere familiar…

I bring my attention back to the armor wearing giant as he nods his head and replies, "While now called the Imperial Calendar, those record keeping terms were indeed used once. As of now it is year 012 M42, although you may refer to it as 41,012 AD."

My knees go weak.

"W-we travelled 38,000 thousand years into the future? Fokenwil..."

38 millennia.

Well, suddenly the idea of Humanity having expanded to millions of worlds doesn't sound so dumb anymore...holy shit, the level of tech these people employ might be insane.

"I actually do not think you have travelled into the future at all, at least not from your original plane of existence."

"What makes you say that?"

Appearing contemplative for a moment the giant slowly explains, "All living things, aside from a few select Xenos and specialized artifacts, can affect and are affected by the Immaterium. They have, for lack of a more precise term, a Warp 'signature'. You and your allies don't have that. In fact, you are not affected by the Warp at all. You cannot interact with it or be interacted with."

I try to wrap my head around that fact and can't help but ask, "Ok, but is that really such a big deal?"

"It is. You are not aware of this, but many mortals that would have attempted to cross Khorne's domain would have long lost their sanity, the corrosive powers of the Warp breaking their minds. Yet here you stand, completely unaffected."

I think on that and curiously reply, "If that's the case wouldn't we have nothing to fear from this Khorne guy? If he's composed of this 'Warp' power then it sounds like we would be immune to whatever he throws our way."

"Not entirely correct. You are still vulnerable to phenomena powered by the Warp, just not it's more intricate methods of mental contamination and manipulation. Were I to use the Immaterium's energies to create fire, you would still be burned by it."

...Of course, that would have been too easy.

This Emperor person again interrupts my thoughts, but this time a small smirk seems to dominate his face.

"Although, your non-reliance on the Warp to power your abilities no doubt explains why it was so effective against the Khornate worshippers. Ordinarily, Warp fueled abilities from all but the most powerful of Psykers are useless against them, but yours worked flawlessly. I imagine the Chaos God was unhappy to realize that facet of information..."

I merely nod slowly before scowling and retorting with, "This is all very interesting and stuff...but none of it has really convinced me that I should trust you. Shit, for all I know you've just been spewing completely and utterly fake crap in an attempt to throw me off balance. Not to mention, now that I think about it, you feel pretty damn close to what these 'Chaos Gods' feel like in the first place!"

I hadn't done so when he'd first appeared, more immediately concerned about whether I was going to be attacked or not, but examining him with my supernatural senses revealed a being that doesn't fall all that short of Khorne's level of power.

Which is more than enough to make me plenty suspicious.

Despite my accusations, all the man does is lightly shake his head from side-to-side and regretfully announce, "Much like I said before, I have no way of proving the level of trust you seek. We come from very different backgrounds and to adequately explain this universe's history in a way so that you would trust me would take time I do not have. While powerful, I am incapable of directly challenging a Chaos God in their own domain and it will not be long before I am noticed and ejected from it."

I keep my scowl and ponder on his words, thinking things through as flexibly as I can.

New universe, new rules and all that…

Quite frankly, I can't think of a single reason not to listen to this Emperor fellow. Not necessarily because I think he's trustworthy...but mostly just because everyone else we've encountered in this universe so far has been an insane, bloodthirsty abomination.

I don't exactly have the luxury of picking and choosing my sources of information…

I heave a resigned sigh and lock eyes with the self proclaimed Emperor of Mankind, grudgingly admitting, "Well, the crappy reality is that I simply don't have any way of deciding yay or nay whether you're pulling my dick. So hit me with the details you think I need to hear, Mr. Emperor."

Without further ado the armored giant holds up one of his gauntleted hands and in it manifests some strange looking mechanical device that looks-somewhat disturbingly-also organic, with an odd pulsation coming from it's center.

"This is called a Pharos, a device that should successfully allow you to navigate your way out of the Warp. If your ship's sensors are finely calibrated enough you should be able to exit the Immaterium with little difficulty at your desired destination. Once you do, attempt to contact my Son Roboute Guilliman or his Adeptus Astartes Chapter the Ultramarines. Failing that, ask for the Ruling Council of Terra. I will attempt to warn as much of Humanity as I can but my powers in that fashion"

I take the device, which has more than a little heft to it, and while I really want to ask just what the Hell an Adeptus Astartes is, or how the fuck we're supposed to find one guy out of trillions, I figure those fall under the, 'not enough time to explain' category. So instead I curiously go with, "Is there a way to just drop out of the Warp entirely and navigate that way? This place sounds like bad news for anything that wants to continue living."

Eyeing me curiously he slowly replies, "You could attempt to exit through the Eye of Terror...but aside from the significant presence of Chaos forces concentrated there, the Eye is a great distance away from any Imperium held territory. It would take you many centuries, if not millennia, to reach any destination that may be able to aid you."

I smirk and cheekily retort, "Not if you have an ftl engine."

"You need the Warp to travel at a speed faster than-"

"Different universe, remember?"

The Emperor's face suddenly brightens as he seems to get what I'm saying and eagerly asks, "You have a method of crossing the stars without need of the warp?"

"Sure do. We call it the Alcubierre Drive, compresses space-time in front of the ship, lets you move really fast. Although velocity doesn't actually play a factor, so I guess saying we move fast is kinda misleading..."

Interest written all over his majestic face the Emperor asks, "Do you have an exact schematic of how such an engine works? If the Imperium-"

He suddenly cuts himself off and a brief moment of frustration is evident on his features.

"Unfortunate...if only we had more time. Child, I don't believe I ever was told your name. Or that of your companions."

I hike a thumb towards myself and reply, "Name's Adeyemi, 93rd Campione of the current roster of the Xul Etlu...not that that means anything here, actually. And the girls are Angelique and Cassandra. Angelique is the golden-haired one and Cassandra is the silver-haired one."

With a grave nod the Emperor says, "Well met, Adeyemi, Angelique and Cassandra. Now for my final request, one you may not be appreciative of hearing. Do not attempt to fight Khorne in any manner. Leave his domain and immediately try to contact the names I provided you."

My voice is silky as I quietly reply, "You're right, I don't appreciate being told that. Why, exactly, should we not attempt to do what we've been doing?"

Without missing a beat the gigantic man solemnly says, "Because Khorne is far, far beyond your level of strength. While I may not be able to sense you in the Warp, I can detect the other form of energy that circulates throughout your body. Potent, and plenty powerful enough to engage most Daemon Princes and Champions. But a Chaos God? That is...rather unlikely."

Biting back on a less that diplomatic retort I instead take a deep breath and calmly reply with, "Emperor, I called myself a Campione earlier, which translates roughly to 'Champion'. A champion of Humanity as a whole. But more than that, I am a Godslayer. As are Angelique and Cassandra. We earned those titles by killing Gods, beings of legend and myth that are strong enough that the average Human might as well be an ant compared to them. I've been one of these Godslayers for 93 years, the Sisters for 38 each. Our job, our duty, is to find and destroy any rogue gods that could potentially threaten Humanity with their presence. And we're good at what we do. We like it. So hopefully you can understand why we might be a little pissed when you tell us to sod off and leave this Khorne fellow alone."

Closing his eyes for a brief moment the Emperor slowly and deliberately says, "Adeyemi...may I ask how the strength of the Gods in your universe was determined?"

"There was a number of factors that could decide that, such as the God's own strength of will or the nature of the ritual used to summon them...but a good rule of thumb was that the more people that know of or believe in said God's myth, the more powerful they would be."

"Similar to our universe then...the Chaos Gods are amalgamations of emotion itself, fed by the emotions of not just the trillions of Humanity but also the many, many Xenos that inhabit the galaxy. May I ask how many people existed in your Universe a their peak?"

Already seeing where he's going with this I scowl and reply, "71 billion at the last consensus, give or take a few dozen million."

The Emperor reluctantly dips his chin and says, "Then even if we assumed the power of one of your people's belief was equal to a hundred of ours, you would be facing off against a God hundreds of times more powerful than anything you have faced before. More than that, Khorne is the God of blood and battle. Whether it's an assassin skulking in the shadows before he slits his target's throat, a matron defending her creche against marauders, a General commanding his armies to assault a continent or even two honorable duelists facing each other...all of these people offer their prayers, unintentional or not, to Khorne. Personally, I consider him to to be the most powerful of the four Chaos Gods."

I fiercely scowl and try to think of any reason that I can go ahead and try to kill this damn thing...but quite frankly I just don't see how when the damn being is said to be this powerful. Hell, I've felt it's strength myself...I guess I just never really bothered to put things in perspective.

A quick glance at Angelique and Cassandra shows them with their poker faces on...but I'm familiar enough with their body language to see that they're slightly uncomfortable with what they're hearing, Angelique shifting her right foot back and forth minutely while Cassandra is slowly running her tongue against the side of her cheek.


I huff an annoyed breath and ask, "Isn't there anything more you can tell me about this guy? Like how does he fight, act...shit like that?"

The Emperor shakes his head and explains, "The Chaos Gods have not fought their own battles for a long time. Instead they let their worshippers do their work for them, fighting and dying across innumerable battlefields both in realspace and in the Warp. Although..."

Appearing contemplative for a moment the Emperor continues with, "A great many millennia ago I witnessed Khorne use his personal weapon, a sword named 'Warmaker' that was capable of not only tearing a hole in reality, exposing realspace to the Warp, but the effects of such a strike tore a planet in half."

His gaze turns stern.

"If that does not convince you to abandon your quest, there is nothing else I can say to convince you."

A sword that can rend apart reality huh?

A bloodthirsty smile crosses my lips.

"Hey, Emperor, this sword, this 'Warmaker'. Could it kill a Chaos God?"

Now frowning the Emperor replies, "Most certainly it could. It is merely the consequences of doing so that stay Khorne's han-"

I laugh. A loud, insane laugh.

"Oh this is perfect...well Mr. Emperor I appreciate you taking the time to explain everything to us, as well as giving me one Hell of a crazy idea, but we need to get to work."

His expression hardens and he sternly orders, "Wait. How have my words, somehow, reignited your foolish campaign?"

I smirk and playfully reply, "Tell me, does this universe have a fighting art called Jujutsu?"

Right to Rule drops out above what the Emperor had called the Lake of Slaughter, a few dozen kilometers away from Khorne's place of residence, the Brass Fortress.

...Whoever's in charge of the landscaping here has some seriously imaginative-by that I mean fucked up-tastes.

An enormous lake of boiling blood that's being fed by absolutely massive waterfalls of the crimson liquid, the surface frothing and boiling with insane fury.

It's nothing compared to the expansive construct of metal and bone on the far shore though. A beach of nothing but skulls and roiling blood absolutely crawling with al sorts of Demons-I mean, Daemons-that are just now reacting to our arrival.

The Emperor had managed impart the location of Khorne's fortress so we could skip all of the intermediary Hellscape and jump straight to the 'heart' of the dimension and confront the Chaos God directly.

"Chesty, do you have weapons locked on?"

"Affirmative Slayer Adeyemi, ready to fire on your command."

I take a deep breath and ask over a general channel, "Alright people here's the big one, we all set to go?"

A chorus of acknowledgments reaches my ears as all of the Kadingr squads report in.

The Isten Baba, Sana Baba, Dungnamtars, Gibils (Ones of Fire) and Kuan (Opening of the Heavens) are all set to go.

"Light em' up Chesty."

"Understood Slayer Adeyemi. Commencing strafing of landing zone."

On my helmet's display several targeting reticles come to life (more for our benefit than Chesty's) that paint a few dozen kilometers of the beachhead...and Daemons suddenly explode in a firestorm of munitions and energy scatter.

While Right to Rule is more of a carrier and ground support style ship than it is a battlecruiser, in situations like this it's lethal.

Fire linked autocannons send a stream of .30 meter depleted uranium shells downrange at a blistering pace, 1-gigawatt lasers pulse in a staccato of invisible destruction and rows of missile batteries send almost 40 LAMs armed with miniature nuclear warheads on laser-guided paths of imminent cataclysm.

30 seconds after Right to Rule opened fire, almost a 60 kilometer swathe of landing zone is a burning, irradiated wasteland.

"All forces, drop!"

Transports, S.S. suits and specialized vehicles carrying the massive war machines of the Gibils all accelerate out of Right to Rule's landing bays while the manned and unmanned aircraft of the Kuan loop into wide spirals before running guard duty as the rest of the airfleet streaks toward the Brass Fortress.

Unable to stop the insane smile that comes to my face I hop into one of the Amelatu's massive hands while the sisters take up residence on it's back, in between it's wing housings and maneuvering thrusters.

"Alright Kenny, let's get to work, shall we?"

My oldest friend's anticipatory voice comes out of the suit's speakers with, "Oh you know it. Let's cause a ruckus!"

With a hiss of servos the personalized S.S. leaps after the rest of the departing Kadingr craft, my magnetized boots keeping me steady.

This should be fun!


Being part of a full-scale invasion courtesy of the Kadingir is always empowering in the extreme.

Hundreds of ARES equipped troopers spreading out in leaps and bounds, backed up by squads of S.S. suits and Hercules combat droids, these frontliners providing a protective shield for the members of the Dungnamtar, our main weapon against some of the more Supernatural elements we'll be up against.

Behind these initial forces roll the vehicles of the Gibils, twenty meter long Trailblazer hover tanks, armed with railgun turrets and smaller mass driver turrets alongside plasma casters.

But I would be remiss not to mention the Holocaust walkers.

Immense war machines 300 meters long and standing 50 tall, resembling mechanical crabs with a veritable forest of turrets and missile launchers on the top of their 'shells' and 'claws', the Holocausts have always occupied a weird spot in the hierarchy of military vehicles.

Being massively expensive and difficult to build, the Holocausts had been designed to be the absolute pinnacle of ground support and superiority...except for one unfortunate detail.

They were rather susceptible to orbital bombardment, being large enough that orbiting weapons could hit them accurately and the walkers, while powerful, only defenses against such an assault are magnetic shields, point-defense turrets and a limited number of of ground-to-space missiles that could easily be detected and destroyed on their approach.

As a matter of fact, the first live fire operation a Holocaust walker took part in encountered that very same problem, being pinned down by orbiting starships and unable to provide cover to the very troops it was supposed to be covering.

The project was nearly scrapped right then and there if it wasn't for the battle of Corail.

A confrontation unrelated to Heretic God activity, the Republic of Quebec had come into conflict with the American Union over trade routes and the Union's first assault on the Quebecan planet of Corailhad gone poorly, leaving 10,000 troops stranded on the planet after their orbiting carriers had been surprised by Quebecan reinforcements and pushed out of their covering position.

Quebecan artillery units had started shelling the Union positions until a single Holocaust walker, nicknamed Dominus, had taken up a shielding position over the beleaguered troops and in between it's shields, incredibly accurate point-defense weapons and own cannons returning fire the Quebecan armies had been stonewalled for an incredible 11 hours until Union fleet elements could fight their way back to evacuate the troops.

While clearly not meant for mass production, Holocaust walkers were built in small numbers for specific campaigns and have been proving their worth for three decades and counting.

And we've got two of them.

I glide in for a landing on the cracked and burning ground, Adeyemi and the sisters hopping down and completely impervious in their armor while the rest of the Kadingir drops into combat formations, the Holocaust walkers in particular disengaging their anti-grav repellers and dropping to the ground with a crash that shakes the 'Earth' for kilometers around.

Elements of the Isten and Sana Baba dart forward, scouting out the massive wall that makes up the initial defense of the Brass Fortress while the rest of us get organized.

Right to Rule also drifts forward, holding steady a few kilometers behind us and making sure it's complement of weaponry is constantly on watch.

Huh, so far things have been going pretty well-

-an earsplitting, metallic scream sounds across the tortured landscape and practically all of our heads turn towards the morbidly named Lake of Slaughter just in time to see dozens of kilometers long leviathans made of bone and brass breach the surface of the lake, latching onto Right to Rule with tortured screams of composites and armor as they bite into the hull.

Chesty immediately shifts the onboard weaponry to take out the attackers but the angles are fairly poor, the massive creatures already attached pretty solidly.

"Escutcheon, Provide fire support for Right to Rule! Everyone else, stay on target!"

At Adeyemi's commands one of the Holocausts ponderously turns around and it's two massive positron cannons immediately fire off sun-bright beams of annihilating particles, two of the bizarre looking bethnic things immediately finding their skulls destroyed by Escutcheon's primary weapons, their elongated bodies slipping off the ship's hull.

But the two metallic monsters quickly find their hands full as fucking Dragons made of fire descend from the crimson clouds above and join in the attack our ship, the sky around Right to Rule quickly turning into a firestorm of flak, interceptor missiles and blinding flashes of light from particle beam weaponry.

Not our job.

"Contact! Daemon horde coming in! Estimated number 30,350 give or take a few hundred!"

I focus on the rushing mass of dark shapes that's headed towards us and the Amelatu automatically zooms in.

Yow. Quite the crowd we've drawn here.

There's the usual mix and match of those humanoid goats and armored figures...but there's also a smattering of those massive armored beasts, the hairless dog-hamster things as well as our old armored friends, these newly named 'Chaos Space Marines'.

But there's a new type included in the group as well. Some flying Daemon creature that's pretty damn similar to those old terrestrial pictures of Christianic Demons, armed with a collection of axes, whips and other melee weapons.

Guess we'll see if they bleed just like all the rest.

"Kadingir, link firing lines and make sure you're not overlapping! Let the Gibils handle the large groups, focus on the faster and smaller ones! Lock and load people!"

At my pal's words hundreds of firing lines become overlayed on my heads up display, the criscross of trajectories quickly sorting themselves into efficient and lethal firing lanes.

"All teams, fire!"

Trailblazer tanks let loose enormous balls of plasma that incinerate anything around them in a 30 meter radius, S.S. suits pull the triggers on a collection of heavy weaponry ranging from lasers to solid state ammunition, Firefly interceptors ignite huge waves of flame during their swooping dives, Mockingbird fighter craft dive bomb lines of Daemons with their nose mounted lances firing clumps of fused hydrogen all while the Shako, the Holocaust that had stayed with us, blows shrieking artillery shells out of the sky with it's swivel-mounted laser gun arrays. just can't get a thrill like this anywhere else than on the battlefield.

Inside the Brass Fortress dozens of large, green-skinned humanoids stood before the massive gates that lead outside the fortress, all of them agitated and belligerent.

So just another day in the never ending life of Tuska Daemon Killa and his boyz.

"Oi, ya stupid git! Open da bloody gate, would ya?!"

Tuska's demand was summarily ignored by the Daemons, the battle outside the fortress being far more interesting and bloody.

Things any Khornate Daemon was predictably distracted by.

"Uh, Boss? I don' dink dat da gitz up dere are gonna led uz out."

Growling angrily Tuska pouted before angrily gesturing towards the sounds of battle outside the building and shouting, "I can see dat you zog! But der' a ol' lotta dakka dakka goin' on out der' an we missin' it! Anytin' dat make da gitz wit da pointy bitz go screamin' gotta be a good scrap!"

The Warlord muttered under his breath all sorts of grumpy threats until his lackey looked to where the Doom Mortars were firing away over the wall.

"Ey' Boss?"


"Those big gunz ova der, mebbe we can use em'?"

Whirling around Tuska eagerly asked, "Eh?! How?!"

Thoughtfully cupping his massive chin the lackey strained his brain to the maximum.

"Well...da gunz shoot da' it shoot it really far...if we ride da stuff...we can get to da' dakka dakka!"



"Datz geniuz ya bloody git!"

A few minutes later several hundred Orkz had gathered around the 'liberated' Doom Mortars, the Daemons nearby that had been manning them having their blood used as an improvised red paint.

After all, the red ones make things go faster.

"Ah, Boss? Ahm not zo sure bout' dis no more..."

Tuska merely shouted back, "Ah quit yah bellyachin' ya git! Aight' Boyz! Fire up da gunz!"

The unlucky lackey, who had been shoved feet first down the Doom Mortars firing tube, was more than a little nervous at the proceedings and once again tried to raise his worries with, "Boss Ah gotta tell yah-BANG-WWWWWAAAAAGGGggghhhhhhhh..."


The initial assault is going well, even if those flying Daemons are a whole Hell of a lot tougher than we'd initially expected.

Too bad the Emperor hadn't exactly had the time to go into detail just how strong these things were and we're just going by guesswork here…


The fuck was that?!

My question is answered a bare moment later as some kind of green humanoid almost 6 meters tall crash lands on a member of the Isten Baba and crushes her underneath it's massive bulk.


The being gets up, the crushed form of the ARES equipped trooper dangling from it's harness, and slowly looks around before happily shouting, "Oi, Boss! I made it, dat big gunz plan wor-"

Approximately four converging streams of weapons fire impact on the humanoids face, completely blowing it apart in a spray of green fluid as the rest of it collapses.

...Well that was a thing.

This place is pretty wild after all, I suppose it wouldn't be-


Oh please say you're joking.

It's raining little green men.

Except the 'littlest' of them is about 4 meters tall.


The largest of the humanoids, a crazed looking creature almost 12 meters tall and wielding some kind of metallic claw roars out some kind of broken English and a tired sigh escapes my lips as dozens more smaller version of the beast start plowing into the ground around it.

...And here I was, thinking things were just getting predictable...

Next chapter is gonna conclude with the battle against Khorne, as well as kickstart Adeyemi's introduction to the Imperium and the consequences of their actions taken in the Warp. Which is the part I'm looking forward to the most quite honestly, all the social interplay between two very different cultures is gonna be a blast to write :D

MEleeSmasher: As Big E stated, it's about 10 or so years after those events (my best guess at a timeline) so the new Crusade headed by Papa Smurf is well underway.

Amatsumi: Yup, you nailed it. No usurping Khorne's powers (or any Chaos deity for that matter) since the Warp is completely incompatible with them.

Guest: We'll just have to see!

Commissar Carl: The way I understand it is that by theoretically killing a Chaos God you wouldn't remove the concepts they represent, since the Gods were created by those very emotions in the first place. Anyone who's empowered by Khorne would obviously be screwed, but most people wouldn't be affected all that much, if at all.

...granted, I have zero basis for that aside from my take on it, the rules of how the Warp works are played with pretty fast and loose XD

AncientRaig: Fair point, but as omniscient observers we know that, the guy watching a round hit a piece of armor then explode almost instantly after would just assumed it was a contact-style round. But an understandable observation, in retrospect I could have re-written that better.

And the aforementioned Magic incompatibility was covered in this chapter, glad you're liking it so far despite some understandable questions!

Livelikeme123: Well he definitely met Big E, but yah he won't be able to gain Authorities from Chaos Deity kills, the Warhammer Universe operates on different 'rules'.

Dude: You must have read my mind lol. While the battle against Khorne is something I'm looking forward to writing, the main meat is gonna be the confrontation between the Imperium and the universe hoppers :D

shadow: Glad you did!