That's just how strong (˙o˙)
Perhaps it was because the higher-ups aboard the Vengeful Spirit had deliberately turned a blind eye and let things slide. Or perhaps the Chaos entities from the Warp had accelerated some part of their wicked plan.
Whatever the reason—
In just a little over half a month, the FC-N-01 abandoned deck, once merely dark, deep, damp, and rotten, had quickly become a terrifying Chaos stronghold dedicated to all manner of blasphemous rituals and bloody sacrifices.
Anyone who went to investigate would have found that, at the site where Ali had first fought the Daemons, altar after altar had appeared from nowhere. They were built from unknown materials and covered in strange, ancient crimson runes, all written in fresh blood. An ominous aura of Chaos constantly radiated from them, making the place feel as though one had stepped into the Warp itself.
All around the altars lay a chaotic assortment of things: strange idols twisted from rusted steel, railings made from human spines, and the bodies of innocents who had just been beheaded and sacrificed, still twitching faintly.
The air here was thick with a horrible stench—a blend of rust, decay, and something nauseatingly rank. And, of course, it was saturated with the chaotic, turbulent, evil energy unique to the Warp.
If those Astartes lords had been willing to investigate, they wouldn't even have needed to choose a particular time. They could have heard the low, eerie, ceaseless chanting and anguished screams echoing from the darkness far away.
There was no doubt about it: the Chaos Cultists and certain monsters were performing some unspeakable, blasphemous ritual.
As for what the rituals were meant to accomplish, no one knew. But they were certainly about more than simply summoning Daemons from the Warp.
As the rituals went on