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(A/N: Chapter 113 will soon be on Patreon!)
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(Now back to the story!)
Alastor charged through the halls of the sanctuary toward the source of the greatest mana resonance he could feel.
The Sunwell.
He knew Malak would be there.
As the vengeful demigod tore through the corridors at full speed, cutting, blasting, or smashing aside every obstacle and daemon in his path, Malak's own situation had become dire.
Within the central chamber, the Champion of Chaos Undivided knelt before the Sunwell. Only a handful of daemons remained beside him, but their master's condition was anything but good.
Courtesy of Kael'thas Sunstrider.
The left side of his chest, his abdomen, and even the lower half of his jaw had been ravaged by severe burns, while his left arm had been damaged to the point of near uselessness.
The Sunstrider line had always been unrivaled masters of flame magic, refining the art further than any other race or magical institution on Azeroth. Their flames were especially potent against the fel and daemonic.
That effectiveness was no coincidence.
Since the founding of Quel'Thalas, every Sunstrider king had woven his own magical essence into the Sunwell.
Over generations, this had subtly altered both their mana and their very bodies, allowing them to wield the legendary flames for which their bloodline was renowned.
The only reason Malak was not already dead—or in an even worse state—was because of Nurgle's blessings and the enormous amount of Chaos power he was continuously expending to suppress the raging fire still burning within his body.
He grimaced as another wave of searing agony coursed through him.
He had underestimated the younger Sunstrider.
After successfully murdering Anasterian during the ambush, he had allowed himself to grow complacent.
A mistake.
One that had nearly cost him his life!
But desperation had already begun to take hold.
He had sensed the Primarch's presence drawing ever closer to the Sunwell Plateau.
Time was running out.
So he had deliberately left an opening, allowing Kael'thas to land a devastating blow while simultaneously striking the elf king himself before forcing his battered body into the sanctuary.
The fact that he had fled without even confirming Kael'thas' death spoke volumes about how desperate he had become.
Malak stared at the Sunwell's immense vortex of swirling blue and violet magical energy.
His expression darkened.
Then—
The chamber doors exploded inward.
He barely had time to turn before an overwhelming psychic force slammed into him, pinning him in place while simultaneously crushing the remaining daemons into oblivion.
A massive blur rushed toward him.
SHLUCK!
Malak choked.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as a blade pierced cleanly through his chest, bursting from his back.
He slowly raised his head.
Standing before him was the Primarch.
Alastor stared down at him, his violet eyes burning with nothing but hatred and rage.
"You failed."
"Just as your gods did."
Alastor sneered as he finally came face-to-face with the murderer of his father...
...the leader of the Black Mages.
"No..."
Malak coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips.
Alastor merely scoffed, believing these to be the dying words of a broken fanatic who couldn't come to terms with the reality of their failure.
"...I successfully..."
"...lured you here..."
"...alone."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Alastor's blood ran cold.
His eyes snapped toward the Sunwell.
Only a tiny fraction of it had been corrupted.
By itself, that amount should have posed little threat.
The Sunwell would have naturally purified such a small taint in time.
There wasn't nearly enough corruption to tear open another city-sized Warp Gate.
Then...
Understanding dawned.
Malak had never intended to open one.
Not once.
The assault on Quel'Thalas.
The invasion of Silvermoon.
Even reaching the Sunwell...
None of them had ever been the true objective.
They had all been part of a single plan.
To lure Alastor...
Right here.
The corruption within the Sunwell suddenly surged.
It spread through the vortex in every direction as the Veil separating reality from the Warp rapidly weakened.
Beyond that thinning barrier...
Four impossibly vast...
Unspeakably malevolent...
Presences converged.
Then became one.
"Enjoy..."
"...the gods'..."
"...hospitality."
Malak smiled through blood as reality itself shattered above them.
An endless torrent of Warp energy cascaded into the chamber like a colossal waterfall.
Alastor didn't even have time to react.
The Maelstrom swallowed him whole before continuing it's spread across the chamber and beyond!
<--------------------------->
Outside, the entire Isle of Quel'Danas shook violently.
Nowhere was the tremor felt more strongly than atop the Sunwell Plateau.
The Alliance heroes were forced to disengage from the daemonic horde as the ground lurched beneath their feet.
"NO!"
Jaina's horrified scream echoed across the battlefield.
Moments later, everyone saw it.
Warp energy erupted from the sanctuary in overwhelming quantities, spiraling skyward until it formed an enormous tornado of corrupted energy around the entire structure.
The building itself was almost completely obscured.
The Alliance heroes stared in horror.
Their leader was still inside!
The daemons, by contrast, erupted into ecstatic laughter.
After suffering setback after setback upon this Chaos-forsaken world...
Victory finally seemed within their grasp!
"Hahaha!"
"Do not despair, mortals."
"You should be celebrating!"
Malfallax, a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch who had earlier lost an arm to Brontes, laughed mockingly.
"Your leader is currently receiving the undivided attention of the gods themselves."
"A privilege they rarely grant anyone."
His words chilled the Alliance far more than any threat could have.
None understood their implications better than Tyrande—Lileath herself—who knew exactly what the Chaos Gods were capable of.
Varian and Anduin answered with wordless roars of fury.
They charged.
The other heroes surged forward beside them.
"We have to end this!"
"And get him out of there!"
Tyrande shouted as the Alliance launched another assault, this one even more ferocious than the last.
At that very moment...
The space within the raging vortex and the Realms of Chaos had become one.
For all intents and purposes...
Alastor now stood within the domain of the Chaos Gods themselves.
<--------------------------------->
Alastor didn't know how long he had been falling...
Or if he was even falling at all.
Perhaps he was falling upward.
Sideways.
Or in every direction at once?
Yet the disorientation was nothing compared to what he saw.
Visions rushed past his eyes while others slammed against his mental shields like battering rams.
A sea of writhing souls.
A garden of endless pestilence.
A land drowned in blood.
A palace of infinite excess.
A labyrinth overflowing with forbidden knowledge.
With a yell, Alastor unfurled his fiery wings, forcing himself to halt.
He landed upon what appeared to be a realm of surreal, nightmarish beauty.
Lavish palaces stretched toward impossible skies.
Perfumed rivers flowed beside forests that sent his danger sense screaming.
Beyond them lay vast fleshy wastelands that pulsed as though alive.
What in the name of the Aspects... is this accursed place?
For all its breathtaking beauty...
Something deep within him recoiled.
It felt wrong.
Not merely unnatural.
Fundamentally wrong!
A twisted...
Warped...
Perverted imitation of "beauty" that should never have existed.
"Oh..."
"You are even more magnificent in person, little godling."
The voice came from everywhere.
It was neither male nor female...
Yet somehow both at once.
Its sensual tone carried through every corner of the impossible landscape.
Alastor froze.
The dread gripping his heart intensified as he instinctively reached for Dawn—
Only to find the sword missing.
"Now, now."
"You won't be needing that for what comes next, my dear."
"Oh... but where are my manners?"
Before him, an immense mass of violet and rose-colored energy slowly condensed into a humanoid shape.
Its appearance shifted constantly.
Every new form was impossibly beautiful...
And somehow even more horrifying than the last.
"Welcome, little godling..."
"...to my realm."
"The domain of the Prince of Pleasure."
Alastor's blood ran cold.
He finally understood.
He wasn't merely within the Warp.
He had been dragged into the Realms of Chaos themselves.
And standing before him...
Was one of their masters.
"You don't have to be so wary of me, Alastor."
"Not when I can offer you so very much."
"Madness being the first thing that comes to mind."
Alastor's reply was dry, almost mocking.
Even as he spoke, his mind raced.
His senses stretched outward in search of any possible escape.
Nothing.
He couldn't draw upon the Aether despite standing inside a realm seemingly made entirely of it.
Even his direct connection to the Holy Light as a Saint had been heavily suppressed.
Thankfully...
His psionic abilities remained.
So too did his Sacred Fire.
"Is it truly madness?"
Slaanesh tilted their head with genuine curiosity.
"You're a thinker, Alastor."
"Have you never wondered whether all it takes is... a change in perspective?"
"What you call madness..."
"What you call ruin might simply be the purest form of joy and desire."
"I feel every passion, every longing, every obsession, every excess."
"I "taste" them as effortlessly as mortals breathe."
The entity smiled.
It was impossibly beautiful.
And utterly unsettling.
"And you..."
"You overflow with them."
"So much love."
"So much passion."
"So much longing."
"Oh..."
"...that desire."
"That relentless hunger you hide so carefully."
"The endless need to protect your friends."
"Your family."
"Those you love."
"Your people."
"Your world."
"You never stop wanting to save them, to better their lives, to just take away despair and leave them with happiness."
"You never allow yourself to rest."
As Slaanesh spoke, their composure gradually slipped.
Every sentence carried more obsession as well as growing hunger.
Alastor didn't even realize he had begun taking slow steps backward.
"Give yourself to me, my sweetling."
"I shall raise you so high upon perfection's throne..."
"...that every other being in the galaxy will seem insignificant beneath your shadow."
The god's form shifted.
His adoptive family.
His closest friends.
The brothers and sisters who had followed him into countless battlefields.
Every face appeared flawless.
Perfect.
Exactly as he remembered them.
Then...
"I can be... very persuasive, my love."
The illusion became Vereesa.
Then Sylvanas.
Then Tyrande.
Then Calia.
Then Jaina.
Then Alleria.
Each one looked utterly perfect.
Beautiful.
Beloved.
But every single one of them shared...
That smile....
That same...Damned...
SMILE!
Without hesitation, Alastor drove a fist cloaked in Sacred Fire straight through the illusion.
The apparition exploded into blazing flames.
Only afterward did he realize he was breathing heavily.
Not from exhaustion.
But from pure, incandescent rage.
The Sacred Fire surrounding his fist blazed hotter than ever before.
"You dare...?!"
Alastor's voice shook with barely restrained fury.
This thing.....this thing dared to masquerade as the people he loved?!
"HOW DARE YOU, YOU SACK OF WARP SHIT!"
"Hahahaha!"
Slaanesh reformed several meters away, this time wearing Rhonin's face.
"Delightful."
"Even your rage is born from love and passion rather than hatred."
"So much sweeter than that crimson brute."
"Oh..."
"I want you even more now."
Alastor roared.
The sheer force of it sent a shockwave rippling through the Realm of Chaos itself, distorting the surrounding landscape and Warp energy.
Slaanesh's smile only widened.
How fascinating!
Then, in a blur of impossible speed, Alastor charged once more.
He no longer cared about anything except tearing the Dark Prince apart.
Every time he struck...
Every time Slaanesh's body dissolved beneath his blows...
The Chaos God only seemed to enjoy it more.
Laughing.
Teasing.
Always remaining just beyond his reach.
Their chase carried them across the Realm of Pleasure.
Alastor crossed the Circle of Avidity and the Circle of Gluttony without sparing so much as a glance toward the mountains of treasure or the magnificent feasts laid before him.
Within the Circle of Carnality, beautiful women emerged to greet him.
Daemonettes wearing flawless disguises.
He ignored every one of them.
Those foolish enough to block his path were either reduced to ash beneath his Sacred Fire or torn apart before their remains were consumed by the flames.
The Circle of Paramountcy showed him a vision of himself.
The greatest hero...
The greatest king...
Not merely of Azeroth...
But of the entire galaxy.
Alastor answered the illusion with nothing but a contemptuous sneer.
He had NEVER desired such things!
The Circle of Vainglory greeted him with glorious monuments celebrating impossible achievements.
Crowds cheered his name.
The admiration of countless heroes washed over him.
He ignored it all.
The acknowledgment of the people he truly loved meant infinitely more than the praise of strangers.
Even Slaanesh was pleasantly surprised when Alastor crossed the Circle of Indolency.
A paradise of eternal peace.
A place where every burden disappeared forever.
He never even looked at it.
His reasoning was as simple as the sky over Azeroth being blue.
Too many people were waiting for him.
Too many depended upon him.
Too many loved him.
The door leading toward eternal rest was one he intended to keep closed for a very, very long time.
Eventually...
Alastor lost all sense of time.
Whether hours, years, or even a century had passed, he could no longer tell.
He pursued Slaanesh all the way to the Palace of Pleasure itself.
The Dark Prince now stood waiting within an endless corridor, this time wearing the face of Tiffin.
His kind-hearted sister-in-law.
"Marvelous."
"You should know..."
"You're not the first soul capable of reaching this place."
As one of the Chaos Gods, Slaanesh could perceive countless possible futures.
Albeit not with the same mastery as a certain overgrown chicken...
But enough.
The Dark Prince remembered another possibility.
A Silver Knight.
Another mortal who might one day have stand before him before succumbing to his presence.
But compared to the grey wolf now standing before them...
That possibility had become...
Boring.
And Slaanesh hated boredom.
"He never would have crossed my circles as you have."
"He certainly never would have stood before me as unyielding as you."
Slaanesh had noticed something fascinating.
Despite radiating overwhelming rage...
Alastor wasn't consumed by it.
He wielded it.
He directed it.
He forged it into armor for his mind and fuel for his determination.
Such an indomitable will...
Only made him long to see it fracture.
"For once..."
"Would you just SHUT UP?!"
Alastor exploded forward once again.
In an instant, he closed the distance.
Both fists ignited with roaring Sacred Fire as he brought them crashing down.
Slaanesh merely smiled.
Their body dissolved into mist.
Alastor's fists struck the palace floor instead.
The impact carved out a crater over a hundred meters wide.
An even greater shockwave erupted outward, scorching the floor, pillars, and towering walls with blazing Sacred Fire.
Then...
Slaanesh appeared directly before him.
A single hand rose to his cheek.
The touch was impossibly gentle.
Like that of a devoted lover.
The instant their fingers brushed his skin...
Everything changed.
His senses were drowned beneath an immeasurable tide of pleasure...
Pain...
Love...
Despair...
Ecstasy...
Every sensation imaginable assaulted his mind at once.
Even his superhuman brain and nervous system struggled desperately to process the impossible overload.
"Shhh...There, there...No more struggling, Just let yourself open."
"Let me in."
"Allow me to soothe you..."
"My love."
"My muse."
"My..."
"...Consort Eternal."
Slaanesh whispered the final words directly into his ear.
All the while...
Their power mercilessly assaulted his soul.
Then...
The Dark Prince blinked.
Alastor's trembling hand slowly rose.
Every movement looked agonizing.
Yet somehow...
He still managed to grasp Slaanesh's wrist.
His strength was all but gone.
Even so...
He tried.
He tried to crush it.
To pull it away.
To resist.
"Oh...My..."
Wonder transformed into ecstatic delight!
"You truly are perfect!"
"Every mortal I have ever deigned to touch much less show myself has always surrendered."
"Kings."
"Heroes."
"Demigods."
"They all fell."
"But you..."
"You still resist me? Even now?"
The obsession in Slaanesh's voice deepened.
"I almost don't wish to share you."
"But alas..."
"My "brothers" are becoming impatient."
"No matter."
The Chaos God leaned forward until their eyes met his.
Within those endless, swirling purple irises...
Alastor saw corruption without end.
"Soon..."
"We shall have eternity together."
"My future consort."
"And I intend to savor..."
"...every..."
"...single..."
"...moment."
With a delighted chuckle, Slaanesh withdrew their hand.
Then they gave Alastor the gentlest of pushes.
He fell backward.
Instead of striking the palace floor...
He continued falling.
The smiling face of the Chaos God grew smaller and smaller until it seemed impossibly distant, as though he were once more plunging into a bottomless abyss.
Slaanesh smiled.
Then vanished.
The ruined corridor shifted and flowed like liquid.
Within moments, every crack, scorch mark, and shattered pillar had disappeared.
The Palace of Pleasure stood pristine once more...
As though Alastor had never been there at all.
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