How does one kill another Chaos God?
That was a question with no easy answer.
Orsaga had pondered it for countless years.
In the material universe, a mere twenty thousand years had passed since his ascension. But in the Warp, where time twisted without meaning, he had already lived as a Chaos God for eons. He had tested countless theories, even used himself as a subject in dangerous experiments, all in pursuit of a solution.
Yet every attempt ended the same.
So long as they remained bound to this Multiverse, nourished by the Warp, the Chaos Gods could not be killed. At best, they could be defeated temporarily.
Not even sealing them away was possible.
For the very concepts that wove through the Warp—time, space, suffering, change, decay, bloodlust, desire—were fragments of their essence.
Take Orsaga himself as an example: if he were sealed, then all of reality would grind to a halt. Time and space would cease to flow. Growth, struggle, hardship—every process of change—would fossilize into stillness. The universe would become a lifeless sculpture.
The other Chaos Gods embodied similar inevitabilities.
Thus, no "conventional" means could ever deal with them. And if someone did succeed, the backlash would cripple the entire Multiverse.
This was why, when Orsaga rose as an outsider from the Abyss, the others did not simply crush him despite knowing they could prevail if united.
Once a god joined the pantheon of Chaos, they became part of a shared, twisted equation—all prosper, all suffer. Their fates were entangled.
Even Orsaga, the strongest of the five, could not simply erase the rest. Their mutual existence was nothing more than a perpetual torment.
If you want the wolf, you must sacrifice the lamb… In the end, it will come down to whose fate proves harder to break.
Raising his right hand, Orsaga split his palm. Flames of blood gushed forth, searing, twisting, splitting into threads of crimson fire. These threads seeped into the fabric of time and space, vanishing into the Crimson Heaven.
From there, they spread outward like veins, pulsing through the Warp.
At once, the other Chaos Gods felt the disturbance.
They observed his actions with mild curiosity, then dismissed them. To them, it was no different from Slaanesh's Warp storm—loud, dramatic, but ultimately meaningless.
Yes, the crimson veins expanded across light-years in a heartbeat. But in the Warp, where distance and duration were illusions, such expansion was insignificant.
The size of the Warp was not fixed. It stretched, contracted, and twisted infinitely. Not even a Chaos God could alter its totality.
So, after a brief glance, the four gods turned their attention away. Only the faintest shred of awareness remained, watching Orsaga out of habit.
He, of course, knew they were watching.
He simply didn't care.
This step was only the foundation of something greater. It required no secrecy. In fact, letting them watch might serve as misdirection.
---
Material Universe.
Deep within the galaxies, in the Krodo System.
A vast armada surged across the void. Their numbers outstripped the ants of Earth, and each ship was so massive it could blot out the stars.
They pushed past the gravity well of their home system, advancing toward a neighboring star cluster.
Their destination: a monstrous anomaly.
A supermassive black hole—over a thousand light-years across—devouring everything in its path, and slowly drifting toward Krodo itself.
This was why the armada had left their homes. If left unchecked, the black hole would consume their system entirely. They had no choice but to confront it.
In the flagship, Commander Trana sat before the tactical display. His face, lined with twenty eyes, remained stern, but beneath the surface pride glimmered.
For the first time in history, every faction across the Krodo system—spanning a diameter of two hundred and forty thousand light-years—had set aside old grudges. Together, they had forged an invincible fleet.
And he, Trana, had been chosen to command it.
The honor was unparalleled. This was his life's pinnacle, his immortal glory. It nearly made him giddy.
But discipline held him steady.
Once the fleet passed beyond the system's gravity without a single loss, he issued his first order with crisp resolve:
"Deploy Squadrons Seven, Eight, and Nine to scout this system. Gather intelligence from local civilizations. We must know how this supermassive black hole appeared."
Normally, black holes gave warning. Their formation left detectable traces years in advance.
But this one had appeared without a whisper. As though it had simply… teleported into existence.
At first, Krodo's scientists thought their instruments faulty. How could a black hole spanning over a thousand light-years just appear overnight?
It was absurd—like discovering a two-hundred-kilometer dragon hiding in your neighbor's fifty-square-meter flat.
After all, ordinary black holes rarely exceeded a few hundred million kilometers. One light-year alone equaled trillions of kilometers.
This was something else entirely. Something that defied science itself.
Yet here it was, consuming a nearby star system, projected to finish in two centuries and then move on to Krodo.
Faced with annihilation, every power within Krodo had emptied their treasuries and built this fleet.
It was victory—or death.
....
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