The Blacklight Scripture

As the saying went, even a starving camel was bigger than a horse. Even the Eldar, weakened to the point of being dogs, still had a considerable fortune. Soon, the worlds they had agreed upon beforehand were placed under Blackwatch's command.

In the Blacklight's laboratory, Yack, appointed ambassador by the Craftworld's leader, stared at the frenzied Tech-priest before him and asked in deep confusion:

"Holy Father, do we really have to do this?" Honestly, after spending so many years as a holy man—and becoming one of the most widely traveled elders among the Eldar—he still found the scene before him beyond his imagination.

A group of Tech-priests stood before Hogg's giant figurine. A speaker blared upbeat music, supposedly an old song performed by a band on ancient Terra. To the tune of "YA`HA, MA~RU," several scantily clad Tech-priests appeared before Yack and began to dance with energetic steps. A strange atmosphere took shape, and the blasphemous performance seemed perfectly suited to it.

Red, crackling mist filled the air. Shadowy black tentacles sprang from the void and swayed alongside the Tech-priests. As the priests who saw them changed their rhythm, the two gradually moved in unison.

A violent wave of nausea flooded Yack's mind. In that instant, he felt his connection to the Warp weaken, and terrifying visions descended.

He saw a huge mouth covered in tentacles breathing in the void. As it rose and fell, the tentacles captured points of starlight and absorbed them into nothingness. He seemed to understand the truth of the universe as a flood of complicated, incomprehensible information poured into his mind.

"I think I understand everything." Yack's eyes were blank as he staggered forward, wanting to join the Tech-priests. Something seemed to writhe beneath the flesh of his face.

"Shit. I held back too little." Hogg hurriedly dispelled the apparition and yanked Yack away from the brink of madness, then slapped him twice to bring him around.

"What happened? I remember—Bleugh! I—bleugh..." Yack collapsed to the floor and vomited everywhere. The sensible Emilia dumped a bucket of cold water over him.

"Holy Father, I think I nearly died just now," Yack complained to Hogg as he regained his senses and stood up.

"Uh! See? During all that, you escaped Slaanesh's gaze, didn't you?" Hogg waved a hand with complete indifference. He had kept his promise and granted them peace. What happened after that was not his responsibility.

"But, my lord, although we escaped Slaanesh—sigh! I can say the name now...but we can't withstand your power."

Yack's words successfully enraged the watching warriors.

"Damn Knife-ears! Father already gave you the peace you begged for. How dare you ask for more?" The Blackwatch warriors around them were furious.

"Sigh! Fine. I'll see this through to the end. Since you elves can't withstand my power, I'll give you something good. Just do as it says, and I guarantee you'll be safe and sound." Someone handed Yack a book.

Yack looked at the book before him. Its gilt cover had metal corners, and several large characters were engraved on it: Blacklight Scripture. "This is a doctrine," he said with certainty, drawing on his years of experience as a holy man. He opened the cover to find text and illustrations in several languages.

"This world had no light, but His coming brought a ray of light to the dark world.

His name is Hogg Menethil, and He is revered as Blacklight.

He is no god, but He is our Holy Father. He loves all living beings, and so He grants peace to our souls.

He cherishes courage, and so He hopes His children will press forward bravely;

He cherishes wisdom, and so He hopes His children will study and learn. He loves life, and so He hopes His children will grow strong and thrive;

He cherishes all that is good, and so He hopes His children will remain optimistic and open-minded. He cannot be understood, for mortals cannot comprehend the Holy Father's power. Yet the loving Holy Father loves every race without reservation.

He has granted us the right to believe in Him..."

After reading the so-called Scripture from cover to cover, Yack was overcome with emotion. "Holy Father, now that we have a doctrine, what about the rituals for worship?"

"Oh! There have to be rituals too? Just worship however you like. Believe a little, since it doesn't cost anything. What, do you like little boys too?"

Yack, having completely settled into his role, retorted, "Faith is no trivial matter. We can't be careless, Holy Father."

"What a hassle!" Hogg pressed a hand down on Yack's head. "Listen, little Yack, to put it bluntly, faith is a scam. But this world is pretty fucked up, so what can you do? Since that's the case, see those Tech-priests over there? Just do what they do. As long as you don't get yourself killed, do whatever you want.

"Oh, and the statues have to be figurines made in Alicia. I won't accept any other prayers. It's the bare minimum of respect for me." Ever mindful of his homeland, Hogg had just earned Alicia another source of foreign currency.

Clutching the Primarch's copy of the Blacklight Scripture, Yack returned to the Eldar quarters aboard the Blacklight, brimming with excitement. He planned to print tens of thousands of copies and distribute them among the Craftworld's people. From today onward, he would put his faith in the Holy Father. Those worthless local gods had never been any use.

Before long, Cordelia, the leader of the Alaitoc Craftworld, received Yack's report along with a copy of the Blacklight Scripture. He explained the effects of the faith and asked to establish the Blacklight Cult on the Craftworld.

As the leader, she had also received an invitation from Blackwatch to visit and discuss the Eldar joining their ranks.

Escorted by the Eldar's finest warriors, Cordelia arrived aboard the Blacklight. As soon as they entered the bridge, a group of Space Marines in Power Armor sprang out from the corners. The Eldar warriors, thinking someone was trying to assassinate their leader, drew their star-spears and aimed them at the newcomers. Some even used their bodies as shields to cover Cordelia's retreat.

The Blackwatch warriors who had jumped out unfurled a banner: "A warm welcome to our Eldar allies!" Several party poppers filled with streamers were tossed over the battle-ready elves.

Startled as well, Cordelia ordered her people to stand down, then walked forward with elegant steps, following the human acting as their greeter toward the bridge.

Along the way, Cordelia observed her surroundings. Although Yack had praised Blackwatch enthusiastically, religious clergy with faith lodged in their brains could hardly be trusted.

Passing through the Blacklight's cafeteria, Cordelia saw the Space Marines—the main fighting force among the humans—eating with the smaller humans in casual clothes. Some even argued over their food portions. What a crude, impoverished race. They were nothing like the elegant Eldar.

The tidy-minded Blackwatch kept every corridor spotless and thoughtfully placed a few potted plants as decorations. From what Cordelia had heard, human ships were often filthy, and the humans aboard them were like monkeys rolling in mud. The immaculate Blacklight and its crew gave her a different impression, winning her favor. "It seems Blackwatch's master possesses at least a touch of elegance."

As the greeter came to a halt, the Eldar arrived at the bridge. There they saw the master of the ship seated upon a throne: the Emperor's son, Blackwatch's Primarch, the so-called Holy Father.