Scorchwind hesitated for a moment outside the event interface.
He was now an Eternal Chosen of Khorne, his soul and power long since branded with the Blood God's mark, walking the path of Chaos.
By rights, this "30k Astartes Duel Tournament," so clearly a relic of the Imperium's Golden Age, one that extolled loyalty and glory, should have been utterly incompatible with his current allegiance.
He might even be refused entry for "blasphemy."
But deep down, a pure hunger for power and conquest, along with the anticipation of clashing head-on with a formidable opponent, drove him onward.
"Might as well try... who knows?" he muttered to himself, with a touch of wishful luck, and clicked to agree.
The light of evaluation swept over him.
The result held no suspense, and yet carried a sense of fated inevitability. The seventeen emblems of the loyalist Legions (and those not yet openly turned traitor), the instant they sensed the savage, bloodthirsty mark of Khorne buried deep in his soul, dimmed, recoiled, and went dark almost simultaneously, as though scalded by open flame.
It wasn't simple rejection, but something deeper: revulsion and disgust, as if his very existence were itself a blasphemy against an age not yet wholly defiled by Chaos.
Yet in that dark void symbolizing "rejection," one emblem blazed suddenly to life.
It was a crude, savage emblem, brimming with the most primal fury and a desire for destruction: the World Eaters.
Unlike the other emblems, it made no attempt to evaluate him. Instead, like a bloodthirsty beast catching the scent of its own kind, it let out a silent, savage call.
"Heh..." Beneath his virtual faceplate, Scorchwind broke into a silent grin, a mix of relief at things turning out as expected and excitement at finding a worthy match.
"So there really is someone out there who'd pick me... or rather, this was the only choice there ever was."
Without hesitation, he clicked on the blazing emblem. Light swallowed him whole, and in his ears he seemed to already hear the whine of chainaxes and endless roars of fury.
He would return as a World Eater, to a Legion not yet fully fallen into madness, but one in which the seeds of rage had already taken deep root.
---
See You Tomorrow's selection process was quieter, and more... fated.
When the light of evaluation touched him, the seventeen Legion emblems didn't even go through the process of scrutinize, evaluate, dim.
The instant they touched the essence of his being, they seemed to sense the hunger for boundless knowledge and arcane power hidden beneath his cold exterior, along with his countless threads of connection to the Changer of Ways.
So they went dark, all at once and in silence, as though avoiding a fog thick with unknown traps and twisted truths.
Only one emblem glowed softly to life in the silent void.
It was the emblem of the Thousand Sons: the Eye of Mystery. It carried none of the World Eaters' savage summons.
Instead, it radiated an aura of depth and wisdom, brimming with endless mystery and hidden allure, like a mentor who had waited long for this moment, opening the doors of the halls of knowledge to a student long since destined to arrive.
See You Tomorrow accepted the outcome calmly, a flicker of understanding passing through the depths of his eyes. It made perfect sense, one might even say it was the only logical destination.
He clicked to confirm, and his figure sank into the light of deep blue interwoven with crimson, stepping toward the Legion where countless psychic powers and forbidden knowledge converged.
---
EndlessSpring's mindset was far simpler. He had only recently set foot on Nurgle's path of loving compassion, and his sense of belonging to a faction wasn't yet as deep or self-aware as Scorchwind's or See You Tomorrow's.
This event looked novel and fun, a chance to experience a different Astartes identity, so he clicked his way in without much thought.
The evaluation process passed without a ripple.
Most of the Legion emblems, upon sensing in him a gentle, tenacious quality, an unusual devotion to the cycle of life, and a faint, barely detectable trace of the Grandfather's blessing, dimmed politely but firmly.
Only one emblem responded to him, slow and heavy, carrying a sickly-sweet scent of decay.
The Death Guard.
The emblem itself seemed to carry an ominous stubbornness and sluggish heaviness. EndlessSpring looked at it and thought of the Sevenfold Loving Compassion quest he'd taken on, along with Nurgle's twisted philosophy of equal compassion and the eternal cycle.
There seemed to be... some connection? He wasn't entirely sure, but he figured this was perhaps a kind of fate as well.
"It's just an event anyway," he thought indifferently, and accepted the Death Guard's invitation. A dark green light, tinged with an unclean sheen, wrapped around him.
---
Rivane's situation was somewhat unusual.
She had only just accepted Slaanesh's Sixfold Senses quest and hadn't officially completed it yet, so she wasn't an Eternal Chosen. In theory, she wasn't yet Chaos's property.
And yet the system seemed to have already foreseen her path, or perhaps her innate pursuit of extreme sensory experience and ritualistic combat had already been marked with an invisible brand.
The light of evaluation swept over her, and the seventeen Legion emblems reacted exactly as they had to the other Chosen of Chaos: swiftly and uniformly, they dimmed and drew back.
They may not have sensed the full corruption of Chaos in her, but they keenly detected her latent pursuit of flamboyance, pleasure, and personal display, qualities utterly at odds with the plainness, tenacity, or rationality of an Imperial warrior.
In the end, the only emblem to light up for her was one whose style was flamboyant to the point of ostentation, its elegance edged with an indulgent sharpness: the Emperor's Children.
The aura it gave off matched perfectly with the Slaanesh quest panel Rivane had just accepted, brimming with the same reverence for perfection, art, and sensory extremity.
It was as if to say: look, this is where you truly belong, this is the stage where you can dance with true elegance.
Rivane looked at the emblem, and the faint unease she'd felt at being rejected by the other Legions quickly faded, replaced by a subtle sense of recognition: of course it would be this one.
She didn't hesitate, and clicked to confirm. A gorgeous light of purple interwoven with gold led her toward the Legion renowned for its pursuit of perfection and pleasure.
---
And so, the four acquaintances, each already on or about to step onto the path of Chaos, joined the ranks of the World Eaters, the Thousand Sons, the Death Guard, and the Emperor's Children, each in their own destined way.
At the 30k Duel Tournament, they would meet brother Legionaries who had yet to learn of their tragic future, warriors who still held fast to dreams of loyalty and glory.
This was not merely a contest of martial skill.
It was more like a reunion spanning time and allegiance alike, steeped in fate and irony.