Chapter 111 WAAAGH!!!

Vane casually stripped all the psychic powers from the Thousand Sons captives and organized a contingent of Harlequins and Imperial troops into an escort detail.

“Drag these guys back to Macragge and lock them up with their father,” Vane ordered. “Magnus is going to be so thrilled to see them.”

“Oh, and make sure you record their faces the exact moment they see each other. Throw it up on the big screen and play it on a loop.”

Once the escort team hauled the prisoners away, Vane and the rest of the crew continued deeper into the Webway.

Under Cegorach’s guidance, the fleet successfully navigated the labyrinthine tunnels and finally arrived at a vast, mystical expanse. A towering, majestic wraithbone structure floated in the void, completely bathed in twilight. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

This architectural marvel was the very Black Library that Ahriman had been so desperately hunting for. Forged by the Old Ones, this grand repository recorded everything that had ever happened, hoarding all the knowledge across the entire universe.

After the Old Ones fell, the Aeldari took over this place. Following the catastrophic Fall of the Aeldari, this location became Cegorach’s sanctuary. Without his explicit guidance, no one could enter. This was the exact reason he had managed to safely evade Slaanesh’s endless pursuit.

While the fleet was still a fair distance away from the Black Library, the Harlequin possessed by Cegorach called for them to halt, explaining the situation.

“The Black Library is rigged with anti-intrusion countermeasures. The moment it detects anyone trying to force their way in, it will initiate a counterattack and automatically shift its coordinates.”

“Then how are we supposed to get in?” the Emperor asked.

“Naturally, I will open the way for you.”

Everyone looked toward the source of the voice. In an open area on the bridge, the very fabric of space warped and twisted. A towering Harlequin—dressed in resplendent garb, his face painted in complex, vibrant colors, and wearing a tilted jester’s cap—stepped out from the spatial distortion and bowed politely to Vane and the Emperor.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Cegorach, the God of Laughter, the sole survivor of the Aeldari Pantheon. It is a profound pleasure to finally meet the two of you.”

This massive figure was Cegorach’s true avatar. Meanwhile, the Harlequin he had previously been possessing rolled his eyes back and passed out cold on the floor.

“Hurry up and take us into the Black Library, Clown God,” Vane said, stepping right up to Cegorach.

“Since it is the Traveler’s request, it shall naturally be fulfilled.”

Cegorach let out a giggling laugh, completely unbothered by the nickname Vane had slapped on him. He raised his staff, tracing ancient runes in the air. A wraithbone archway materialized out of thin air, the light within it swirling into a mesmerizing vortex.

“Gentlemen, the door is open.”

Cegorach bowed, gesturing for the group to enter.

Vane took the lead, stepping through the archway and crossing the vortex first. Space twisted and warped around them. By the time it stabilized, the group had arrived in a bizarre, mystical dimension.

Countless books floated in midair, tightly bound by glowing bubbles and crystalline chains.

“Many of the books inside this library record forbidden knowledge,” Cegorach explained as he entered last, bypassing the group to take the lead. “That knowledge holds immense power. Just being written on the pages gives the books magical properties and a sentience of their own. We have to use these exact methods to keep them restrained and behaving.”

“With this many books, how are we supposed to find anything?” Vane frowned, staring at the dense, endless sea of floating tomes.

Cegorach chuckled. “There is no need to worry about that. The Black Library is alive. It will guide you directly to the relevant texts based on your will and thoughts.”

“Esteemed Traveler, whatever book you desire, you need only picture it in your mind, and your wish will be granted.”

“It’s a bit like a magical academy.” Vane stepped forward, silently repeating ‘Ork Greenskins’ in his head.

Not a moment later, the scenery before him abruptly shifted. A massive, incredibly thick tome with a dark green cover materialized right in front of him.

“Is this the book with the Ork data?”

Vane reached out and grabbed the heavy book. The moment his fingers made contact, the chains of light binding it automatically shattered.

The very next second, the book sprang to life. The cover sprouted jagged fangs completely unique to the Greenskins, and the spine bulged with thick, rippling muscles. It snapped open and shut frantically, screaming at the top of its lungs.

“WAAAGH!!”

“WAAAGH!!”

Vane was totally speechless.

It’s one thing for the actual Orks to yell WAAAGH, but why the hell is the book written about them yelling it too?!

Vane proceeded to beat the absolute crap out of the book. He didn’t stop until it rolled its eyes back and lay there completely docile. Only then did he pick it up and flip it open.

The pages inside detailed the true origins of the Ork Greenskins.

In the distant, ancient eras, the Old Ones rose to power, ruling over both the Warp and the material universe. They seeded life, nurtured entire civilizations, and maintained the strict order of the Immaterium. The technology of the Old Ones had long since reached its absolute pinnacle. They had broken free from the constraints of mortal lifespans and could effortlessly reshape star systems and manipulate reality itself.

However, the Old Ones were not satisfied with just that. They wanted to go a step further, to explore deeper and acquire the technology and power necessary to survive the cyclic destruction and rebirth of the universe itself.

To achieve this ambitious goal, they attempted to use the authority of the Warp to forge the Four-Pointed Star, intending to create four Supreme Gods that would wield the absolute powers of creation and destruction. That way, no matter how many times the universe went through its cycle of cosmic death, they would exist eternally.

However, right at that critical juncture, the Necrontyr—a race the Old Ones had previously defeated—transformed into the Necrons with the help of the C’tan and ignited the apocalyptic War in Heaven.

When the Necrontyr underwent their biotransference, the massive wave of emotions released sent shockwaves through the Warp, completely derailing the Old Ones’ grand designs. On top of that, during the agonizingly long War in Heaven, the sheer despair and deaths of countless living beings flooded the Warp with overwhelmingly negative emotions.

The combined threat of the Necrons and the C’tan, coupled with the absolute chaos in the Immaterium, caused the Old Ones’ master plan to completely collapse, leading to the utter destruction of the still-forming Four-Pointed Star. The shattering of the Star destroyed the Old Ones’ carefully maintained order within the Warp and literally tore the entire galaxy apart—which was the true origin of the Great Rift they knew today.

Between the endless years of total warfare and the catastrophic anomalies caused by their reckless Warp experiments, the Immaterium ultimately gave birth to daemons. Once these daemons manifested, they immediately waged war against the Old Ones as well. Countless daemons surged through the cosmic rifts, pouring into the material universe to slaughter every living thing in sight.

Faced with such overwhelming internal and external disasters, the Old Ones were ultimately defeated and wiped out in the War in Heaven, reduced to nothing more than history. Consequently, the Warp was forever transformed into a living hell.

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OR