The Emperor had betrayed the oath he had sworn in blood and promised with his soul.
The long-planned reckoning of the Chaos Gods descended, and a kaleidoscopic storm flooded the laboratory.
Every incubation pod was dragged into the vortex and hurled toward its destined planet through the Empyrean.
Nimrod abruptly opened his eyes and thought to himself.
The first step in changing fate depends on whether my cheat is any good.
The Warp was also known as the Sea of Souls, the Empyrean, the immaterial universe, and the Realm of Chaos. Different people called it according to their own cultural customs.
The Sea of Souls consisted of pure energy. Like a mirror of the material universe, it was formed from the reflections of the emotions and souls of every sentient being in reality.
As Nimrod opened his eyes, the powerful conviction in his heart erupted.
My fate is mine to control. Neither The Four Ruinous Powers nor The Old Man in Yellow can decide it.
I'm going to the Segmentum Obscurus, to Vostonia in the Vostonia System!
Black mist rose and enveloped him. His powerful conviction drove the mist into an accelerating spin, affecting the kaleidoscopic vortex and gradually diverting it from its predetermined trajectory.
Tzeentch, the "Fateweaver," was the first to notice the change in the Threads of Fate. The eleventh primarch's pod had broken away from the vortex and was no longer falling toward its destined land.
"Change... everything is proceeding according to plan..."
The other three gods soon noticed the anomaly in the incubation pod as well. They watched the scene with great interest until the black mist vanished.
Nimrod waited nervously. Although he had been chosen by the Kingdom of Disorder, he knew that Source Essence's authority gradually increased as his sequence rose.
In the material world, the Kingdom of Disorder would not be able to offer him much help.
But this was the Warp, where emotion and conviction were the most powerful forces.
Nimrod used his conviction as strength to pry at the Kingdom of Disorder.
Even if Source Essence stood below the Four Gods, it was still close to the same level.
Together, they might be able to alter the planet he would fall upon. This was the first step he had taken to change his fate!
While the other primarchs' incubation pods were still gliding through the Sea of Souls, the eleventh primarch's pod shot out of the Empyrean like an arrow.
The pod plummeted at tremendous speed. Through the blinding smoke ignited by its violent friction with industrial exhaust, Nimrod saw a Hive City piercing the toxic atmosphere, and his heart settled somewhat.
Moments later, the pod smashed into a thick, sludge-like riverbed.
The silver-gray metal shell shook violently, and the glass partition shattered.
Nimrod stood steadily inside the pod. He suddenly thrust out his right hand and precisely caught a silver-gray shard the length of an adult palm and two fingers wide.
The pod spun rapidly, and the mud splashed up by its skidding did not affect his senses in the slightest. He noticed that there were no animals or plants in the river or along its banks, while a toxic, acidic stench filled the air.
Nimrod's head spun for a moment before quickly recovering.
The pod's rotation gradually slowed. Nimrod's brain rapidly completed its calculations, and before it struck the bank and bounced in another direction, he leaped out.
He bent his knees slightly and steadied himself.
Nimrod rose, looked toward the Hive City through the drifting industrial dust, then headed in that direction.
In the shantytowns surrounding the Hive City, those who had lived long-term without protection all bore more or less physical mutations.
Many Underhive residents also came to live in the shantytowns. The foul-smelling sewage ensured that this place had relatively fertile agricultural conditions and a considerable fungal harvest.
A man with stone-like tumors growing from his neck was the first to notice the outsider.
He was an outsider who could not possibly have appeared in the shantytown. His skin was a healthy, natural yellow with a faint sheen, like a statue crafted by an artist.
His long black hair fluttered in the wind, and his eyes were as black as ink, like deep pools. His nose was high and straight.
Though he looked like no more than a four- or five-year-old boy, the primarch's features were sharply defined. His handsome face carried an innate sense of majesty that made people afraid to look directly at him.
The Mutant lowered his head in inferiority and fear, but a trace of greed soon flashed through his eyes.
A boy like this could fetch a great deal of money. Many important figures in the Upper Hive enjoyed playing with delicate children like him.
Once that thought arose, it could no longer be restrained.
He immediately threw aside the fungus he had gathered and lunged at the boy. Several other Mutants, harboring the same thoughts, moved as well.
The boy did not turn and flee. He dodged the descending club in a flash, and the silver-gray shard in his hand sliced open the Mutant's thigh.
The scream drew the attention of every Mutant in the shantytown, and they greedily rushed at the boy.
Nimrod wove through the crowd of Mutants, and not a single attack landed on him.
At first, the Mutants thought it was because the boy was small, so they all crouched halfway down. Having spent their days cultivating fungi, rummaging through garbage heaps, and ambushing drifters, they were familiar with this posture. They often fought this way when competing for spoils.
Their attacks still missed. It was as though the boy could foresee their every movement: thrusts from the side, iron rods hurled at the back of his head—every attempt failed.
The boy did not look back, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
An hour later, a group of people lay scattered across the shantytown. Every one of their legs had been severed, leaving them unable to move.
Nimrod searched the crowd with his gaze, then stripped off the cleanest and most intact piece of clothing. After casually cutting it to size, he put it on.
He then walked over to the Mutant with tumors on his neck, kicked him, opened his mouth, and pointed at an iron rod on the ground.
The Mutant stared at the monster before him in terror. Only after several seconds did he realize that Nimrod was asking what the object was called, and he hurriedly opened his mouth.
Nimrod's superhuman brain rapidly mastered the local Low Gothic at an astonishing speed. It was a language localized from Old Terra-Slavic.
Five hours later, he had learned the basics of the language from these people.
Nimrod stared at the remaining living Mutants and asked fluently in the local Low Gothic.
"Is this world Vostonia?"
All the Mutants nodded at once, afraid that any delay would earn them the same fate as the corpses beside them.
He pointed toward the Hive City in the distance. "That Hive City is Tezwork?"
The Mutants again nodded rapidly in unison.
Nimrod stepped forward and casually ended the Mutants' suffering. These witnesses who had seen him arrive from the Ash Wasteland would perhaps cause him trouble if they remained alive.
He knew that after Vostonia had pledged allegiance to Mars during the Age of Strife, technology and knowledge had continually poured in, rapidly turning it into a highly industrialized world.
The locally produced weapons were of excellent quality, especially the Lasguns for which it was most famous. In the future, the Vostroyan Firstborn would rank among the top ten fighting forces of the Astra Militarum.
Vostonia was locally ruled by a dual authority of nobles and the Adeptus Mechanicus. The weapons in the hands of those Tech-priests could still cause trouble for his developing self.
Nimrod found a relatively clean black backpack, though it was still filthy beyond belief even by Lower Hive standards.
He filled the backpack with fungi and added a tattered set of clothes to change into.
He then headed toward the Hive City. He had checked before: all the potion ingredients for "Lawyer" on the Blasphemy Slate were glowing, and he could find every one of them in the Hive City.
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