Chapter 35 Hijacking the Corpse-Emperor's Resources

Using His absolute mastery over the Domain of Fate, Tzeentch peered into the infinite, branching timelines of the future.

But the more He watched, the colder His metaphysical heart became.

In one timeline, Khorne had his head violently shoved into Nurgle’s most toxic plague cauldron and was forcefully drowned.

Honestly, looking back, Khorne’s ending was arguably the most merciful.

He ate some demonic sludge, choked, and died relatively quickly.

The fates awaiting Tzeentch and the other two Chaos Gods were infinitely, horrifically worse.

In several timelines, Tzeentch, the Architect of Fate, was violently plucked completely bald, strapped to a massive BBQ grill, heavily basted with cumin and barbecue sauce, and slow-roasted alive.

In other timelines, He was shrunk down and stuffed into a tiny brass birdcage, paraded around as a literal pet bird.

And as if being kept as a pet wasn’t humiliating enough…

that bastard Outer God actively tried to breed Him.

The Outer God claimed it was strictly for “preserving the biodiversity of endangered Chaos Gods” and “maintaining a sustainable Warp ecosystem.” Witnessing these horrific futures, Tzeentch’s vision went black.

He nearly passed out on His crystal throne.

This damned Outer God is an absolute, irredeemable monster!

Slaanesh’s fate wasn’t any better.

The Prince of Pleasure was violently stripped of all sensation, permanently sealed inside a cute, fluffy plush toy, and completely paralyzed.

They were utterly incapable of experiencing any form of revelry or pleasure, forced to endure absolute, maddening sensory deprivation until the end of the universe.

Whenever the Lord of Excess screamed in agonizing torment, the plush toy was hooked up to a phonograph that converted Their shrieks into upbeat lo-fi music.

Nurgle suffered an arguably worse physical fate.

The Plague God was permanently chained up and treated as infinite compost.

His limbs were continuously chopped off and violently tossed into a woodchipper to manufacture agricultural fertilizer.

And the Daemons of the Warp?

Their endings were universally tragic.

They were all forcefully compacted into tiny, pitch-black rooms, where they were perpetually, automatically executed and resurrected on an infinite loop.

The Outer God was literally using their agonizing, infinite deaths to passively farm “unique raw materials.” …

this guy is the absolute, undisputed pinnacle of evil!

Compared to this Outer God, the Daemons of the Warp looked like innocent, naive college freshmen who had never jaywalked!

No.

Absolutely not.

I cannot allow this entity to do whatever he pleases.

I must prevent these horrific timelines from manifesting!

Having witnessed the absolute worst-case scenarios, Tzeentch made a firm, unshakeable resolution.

I will defy fate!

My destiny is My own!

The Changer of Ways attempted to aggressively scan the future, desperately searching for a single, microscopic timeline where He successfully defeated the Outer God.

However, as He strained His precognitive abilities, that deeply unsettling, terrifyingly oppressive aura violently crashed into His mind again.

Before He could even react, the infinite tapestry of future timelines let out a deafening CRACK.

The entire metaphysical structure violently shattered into millions of tiny, perfectly square blocks.

A microsecond later, the blocks completely dissolved into nothingness.

“What is happening?!” Tzeentch froze.

He desperately tried to re-cast His divination, actively attempting to peer into the future again.

But He found absolutely nothing.

Every single future timeline had been completely erased.

The future was now a blank, impenetrable void.

He couldn’t see a single thing.

He can literally physically delete future timelines?!

Just what the hell is this guy’s origin?!

It seems I have no choice.

I must form a temporary, desperate alliance with the other three Gods.

If necessary, I must even petition the Anathema on the Golden Throne!

If we do not unite against this Outer God, we are all going to be completely wiped out!

After agonizing over the political ramifications, Tzeentch decided to dispatch Kairos Fateweaver to track down Erebus.

He needed that treacherous Word Bearer to act as a diplomat to unite the Four Gods and successfully lobby the Anathema.

They had to form a united front against the Outer God.

— Meanwhile, in the Cryptus System.

Phodia Hive City.

An abandoned, subterranean slaughterhouse.

“Blood for the Blood God!

Skulls for the Skull Throne!

May He grant us His bloody favor!” Several Khorne cultists were aggressively operating a massive, automated industrial meat processor.

They were violently decapitating a herd of Grox they had smuggled in, piling the severed bovine heads into a massive, bloody mound.

Thick, crimson blood flowed sluggishly down the drainage trenches, pooling into a massive, rusted holding vat.

Several Cult Priests, their bare chests painted with crude, jagged runes of Chaos, circled the vat, loudly chanting Khornate hymns.

“Magus, are we absolutely sure this ritual is going to work?

I feel like the Blood God is going to be incredibly insulted,” a lower-ranking cultist whispered nervously to Liam Carver, the local Gore-Magus.

What kind of self-respecting Chaos Cult performs blood sacrifices in an industrial meat packing plant using livestock?!

It felt incredibly pathetic.

Would Khorne actually grant them blessings for slaughtering cows?!

“Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows, only that it flows!” Liam was honestly terrified it wouldn’t work, but he forced absolute, fanatical confidence into his voice to keep the cultists in line.

He didn’t have a choice.

The Imperial crackdown across Phodia was currently absolute.

Every single citizen was currently undergoing mandatory, rigorous census registration.

If even one person went missing, the Arbites and the Inquisition would aggressively investigate until they found the body.

Forget about kidnapping Imperial citizens for sacrifice—they couldn’t even safely sacrifice their own cult members!

If someone died, the resulting Imperial investigation would instantly expose their entire operation.

To remain hidden, they had no choice but to smuggle in Grox and perform dietary sacrifices.

Suddenly, a cultist violently burst through the slaughterhouse doors, his face pale with absolute terror.

“Magus!

The Enforcers!

Imperial Inspectors are conducting a surprise raid!” That single sentence nearly caused the entire cult’s collective soul to leave their bodies.

If the Imperium caught them performing Khornate rituals, every single one of them would be strapped to a heavy flamer and roasted alive.

“Quickly!

Execute emergency concealment protocol Alpha!

Hide the totems!

Scrub the runes!

Do not let them see anything related to the Blood God!” “Remember your cover stories!

We are law-abiding, tax-paying Imperial citizens working the night shift!” The cult had rigorously drilled for various emergency scenarios, including sudden Imperial raids.

Moving with practiced, frantic efficiency, they stashed their bloody robes, scrubbed the runes, threw on standard-issue manufactorum jumpsuits, and hastily unrolled a massive Imperial Aquila banner over the eight-pointed star carved into the far wall.

By the time the Imperial Inspectors kicked the doors open, the ritual site looked like a perfectly standard, albeit incredibly messy, industrial meat processing floor.

Liam let out a slow breath, genuinely believing they had successfully bluffed the Inspectors.

But the absolute microsecond the lead Inspector ordered the workers to line up, one of the ‘cultists’ aggressively stepped forward and pointed a finger directly at Liam.

“Inspector!

I wish to formally report a crime!

These men are all radical Chaos Cultists!” Before Liam and the other true Khornate cultists could even process the absolute betrayal, heavily armed Imperial Enforcers violently slammed them to the ground and locked them in heavy iron binders.

They didn’t even have a microsecond to fight back.

“Owen!

Why?!

Why would you betray us?!” Liam stared at the informant, screaming in sheer, unadulterated fury and disbelief.

“I didn’t have a choice before.

But now, I want to be a good man who serves the God-Emperor,” the cultist named Owen replied, solemnly tracing the sign of the Aquila over his chest, his voice dripping with pious devotion.

“I refuse to associate with heretics who have turned their backs on the Emperor’s light!” “From this day forward, I shall be a loyal, noble, and completely selfless citizen of the Imperium!

My life belongs entirely to the Emperor!” Guided by Owen’s hyper-detailed, extremely precise testimony, the Enforcers easily uncovered the hidden Khornate totems, the bloody robes, and the sacrificial daggers, permanently securing convictions for every single cultist present.

Right before Liam was gagged and violently shoved into the back of an armored transport, Owen leaned in close.

“Praise the Changer of Ways,” Owen whispered, his voice completely devoid of his previous ‘Imperial piety’.

“All you braindead, savage worshippers of the Blood God deserve to rot.” Liam’s eyes bulged so wide his blood vessels nearly burst.

He thrashed violently against his restraints, screaming muffled curses through his gag.

This bastard was a Tzeentchian cultist the entire time?!

He disguised himself as an Imperial loyalist just to aggressively purge us?!

We are all Chaos Cultists!

Why are you aggressively cannibalizing your own side?!

You treacherous, conspiring, blue-blooded bastards!

The Blood God will completely annihilate you!

Watching Liam get dragged away in absolute, despairing fury, Owen couldn’t help but happily hum a jaunty tune.

The Forefather’s master plan is absolute genius!

We systematically eradicate the local cults of the other three Gods by feeding them to the Inquisition.

Then, we use the resulting political credit to embed our own operatives into high-ranking Imperial positions.

We completely hijack the Cryptus System without firing a single shot!

The Forefather is effortlessly manipulating everyone on the board!

In the distance, Vane stood on a high catwalk alongside Johnny and several other Tzeentchian cult leaders, observing the entire raid.

“Forefather…

are you absolutely sure this is the correct path?” “It genuinely feels like we are just aggressively acting as the Corpse-Emperor’s attack dogs to execute the other Gods’ followers,” Johnny muttered, looking slightly uncomfortable as the Khornate cultists were hauled away.

“What’s the problem?

Didn’t Owen just secure a massive promotion?” Vane replied smoothly, not missing a beat.

“With a little political maneuvering, I’ll have him appointed to a senior administrative position.

From there, he can funnel significantly more resources to the Changer of Ways.” “We aren’t helping the Corpse-Emperor.

We are intentionally hijacking the Corpse-Emperor’s vast resources to complete the Architect of Fate’s grand design.” Vane effortlessly spun a masterful web of political gaslighting, manipulating the cultists into obediently executing his purge.

Listening to Vane’s flawlessly logical explanation, Johnny and the other cultists exchanged highly skeptical, incredibly hesitant glances.

It sounds mathematically correct…

but why does it feel so fundamentally wrong?

— Next bonus at 300 Powerstones.

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