If the Ruinous Powers possessed one shared truth, it was this:
they hated losing.
They hated sharing.
And above all, they hated watching another god grow stronger.
In the Warp
The tides of the immaterium churned violently as the Second Rangdan War consumed entire systems.
Billions screamed.
Billions raged.
Billions despaired.
Emotion flooded the Warp like a supernova of sensation.
And the Blood God swelled.
Khorne's domain thundered with the roar of battle. Brass citadels rang with the clash of endless war. Rivers of blood thickened and deepened as the galaxy drowned in slaughter.
The other gods noticed.
They always noticed.
A ripple of scheming thought spread across the empyrean.
Tzeentch did not speak in words.
He suggested.
He implied.
He seeded possibilities.
Across hidden currents of the Warp, veiled threads of intent reached toward the other powers.
Observation: Khorne grows.
Prediction: imbalance imminent.
Implication: unacceptable.
A languid sensation coiled in response.
Slaanesh considered the unfolding war with aesthetic curiosity. The violence was crude, but the desperation — the crescendo of fear and hope — had a certain elegance.
Another presence stirred: vast, warm, and inexorable.
Grandfather Nurgle chuckled as new plagues of despair blossomed across countless worlds.
Decay, grief, endurance — all flourished.
Yet even he sensed the imbalance.
Khorne did not rage outward.
He gathered.
That alone was cause for alarm.
When the Blood God restrained himself, it meant he was waiting to strike where it mattered most.
Tzeentch traced the strands of possibility and saw a convergence point.
A singular soul.
A blazing psychic anomaly.
A being who walked the material realm like a living paradox.
Yuki.
Not desired.
Not loved.
But powerful.
And power was a prize none of them wished another to claim.
Nurgle's mirth bubbled through the Warp.
"Such a radiant child," the Plague Father mused. "She has not yet tasted my garden's kindness."
Slaanesh's interest sharpened.
A living sculpture of purity and violence, light and annihilation — exquisite contradiction.
"An artwork unfinished," the Dark Prince whispered.
Tzeentch's thoughts flickered with amusement.
If one could not seize the prize…
one could ensure no rival did.
The Warp stirred.
Not alliance.
Never alliance.
Only overlapping appetites.
A single intrusion might be possible.
A single champion.
A single blade slipped between realities.
The Material Universe
Never since the dawn of the Great Crusade had war reached such magnitude.
Eight Legions committed.
Half a million Astartes.
Hundreds of millions of auxilia and mechanized cohorts.
Four Titan Legions strode to war.
The Imperial armada eclipsed stars.
Entire planetary governments abandoned rebellion at the mere rumor of its passage.
The Rangdan met them with equal ferocity.
Genetically engineered warforms advanced in flawless synchronization.
Colossal biomechanical constructs strode like walking mountains, their black energy cannons vaporizing armor columns and the soldiers beside them.
Here, life meant nothing.
A breath.
A spark.
A scattering of dust.
A streak of white fire carved across the battlefield.
White flames followed like a stormfront.
Yuki descended through enemy ranks, twin blades extended by psychic force into luminous arcs of destruction.
She left annihilation in her wake.
Command was not her art.
She left that to Mordecai and Guilliman.
Her purpose was simpler.
Break the enemy.
Shatter the impossible.
Destroy what should not exist.
Eusonus and the Demon Slayer Guard advanced behind her, formation flawless, plasma fire stitching death through the Rangdan lines. Their shield harmonics interlocked, creating a moving fortress around the spearhead.
The enemy offensive faltered.
The Imperium surged.
The Rangdan were driven into a valley basin surrounded by jagged ridges.
"We have another victory," Eusonus said quietly.
Urian offered a faint smile.
He remained wary of the Zero Legion. They carried too many secrets, too many silences.
Yet something troubled him more.
He remembered fighting the Rangdan before.
So why did he remember so little?
Why did the enemy feel… unfamiliar?
Unease crept into his thoughts.
"Our orders were to hold for seven days," Urian said carefully. "Instead we have nearly annihilated them. What kind of enemy requires the Vice Emperor herself?"
Eusonus answered after a pause.
"With Mother present, defeat does not exist."
That was all.
Urian asked no more.
At dawn, the final assault began.
Encirclement complete.
Kill zones established.
Plasma nests positioned along ridge lines.
Today, Yuki intended extermination.
The Rangdan broke.
Under relentless fire, their formations collapsed.
The one-eyed war commander fled.
Yuki pursued.
White lightning lashed the air, shredding shield matrices and armor alike.
She reached the giant and severed its head in a single stroke.
Silence fell.
She exhaled slowly.
"Eusonus. Pursuit units forward. Establish perimeter defenses. Prepare—"
A voice interrupted.
"—to welcome your brother."
Silence deepened.
Every sound vanished.
Yuki stared at the severed head.
Its lips moved.
It smiled.
"What is wrong?" it croaked. "I speak your language."
Yuki's expression did not change.
"Eusonus. Contact allied commands."
The head laughed wetly.
"They cannot answer. They are trapped. As are you."
Artillery shells screamed from all directions.
Yuki spun, blade flashing — explosive rounds split in midair.
The Demon Slayer Guard formed a shield wall around her.
More shells fell.
Energy shields flared.
Eusonus spoke, voice tight:
"Mother… the First Legion is firing on us."
Yuki closed her eyes briefly.
"No," she said softly. "They are already dead."
Across the valley rim, once-loyal Astartes turned their weapons inward.
Memory erased.
Knowledge sealed.
Yet something had reached them anyway.
Had she failed?
Had she misunderstood the enemy from the beginning?
Reality split.
A black portal tore open.
Five towering entities emerged.
Flesh fused with machinery.
Black vapor leaked from seams like rot escaping a coffin.
They moved with unnatural speed.
They did not roar.
They did not rage.
They hunted.
They charged Yuki.
The mist corroded stone where it touched.
And in that moment—
she smiled.
Her blades became light.
One creature split apart before it could strike.
Black mist surged to reconnect the halves.
Lightning followed.
The regeneration halted.
But the others descended.
Even she could not strike everywhere at once.
"Hold the line!" Eusonus shouted. "Suppress the traitors!"
He surged forward—
and heat sliced across his cheek.
He turned.
A Demon Slayer lay dead at his feet, slain mid-strike.
Betrayal.
Infection.
Subversion.
He looked forward again.
Yuki fought alone against five abominations.
Blood flowed from a deep wound across her abdomen.
It fell in bright drops onto shattered stone.
Her white wings, radiant as dawn—
slowly turned crimson.