Dark Future

Once trust cracked, it would be magnified without limit through repeated reflection and verification.

The Warp gods planted a seed of doubt in Erda's heart. Every trace of distrust became nourishment, watering the seed as it sprouted and grew until it became a towering tree.

Every night, Erda was tormented by visions. She knew everything, yet was powerless to resist. The power of the Warp probed at the defenses of her heart, gradually eroding the barriers of her will.

Dark power invisibly influenced her subconscious, and countless futures emerged amid fragments of illusion.

She could see the Emperor, Terra's most powerful warlord. He had never changed. Slaughter and plunder were his nature, and beneath his vow to save humanity lay his true ambition:

To conquer and enslave humanity, to ascend into godhood—that was his purpose. The young Primarchs would be enslaved by the Emperor and molded into terrifying killing machines.

At the behest of the Emperor's ambition, they would raise their butcher's blades against humanity, reap every human soul, and help the Emperor become a god.

The visions shifted unpredictably. Erda, whose heart was close to collapse, saw another scene—one that hurt her even more.

After unifying humanity, the Emperor would betray his sons, purging the Primarchs and their Legions. The galaxy would be set ablaze by the rift between father and sons, and amid the burning galaxy, father and sons would slaughter one another.

The Primarchs who supported the Emperor and those who sought self-preservation would kill one another, turning blade against blade, determined to murder their blood-related brothers.

Countless possibilities in the visions tore at Erda's soul. She was like a lone boat, swaying on the verge of capsizing in a storm.

Going to find the Emperor could resolve these minor troubles, but the images in her mind made Erda hesitate.

She knew there was a high chance those images were false, tricks of the Warp's evil gods, but... what if they were real?

Tears streamed down Erda's face. In the dream, she helplessly covered her eyes, too afraid to look at those tragic scenes.

Could humanity commit any crime more depraved than blood relatives slaughtering one another?

Father and sons drew swords against each other. Blood brothers fought within the same house. And along with all of that came humanity's severed future!

Erda covered her face as the visions played out endlessly in her mind, so real that she felt present within them. She constantly wanted to change something, yet found herself unable to stop it.

Whispers came from the darkness, and amid muffled laughter was the smug delight of a successful scheme. "You can do nothing. Their fate has already been decided. The gods shall savor their sweet corruption."

"No!" Erda cried as she abruptly opened her eyes, wanting to refute that voice. But when she looked around, she saw the furnishings of her own room.

A maid stood at the door, her eyes full of concern. "My lady, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Erda's cheeks were pale, but she gave a weak smile to soothe the maid's worries. "You may leave."

The maid did not dare say more. She gave a slight bow, slowly backed away, and shut the door.

The room returned to darkness and silence. Erda lay in bed, contemplating those dark visions, everything the dark gods wished to see.

How could she avoid all of it? How could she preserve her sons from the gods' designs?

Several days passed. After waking once more from the cycle of nightmares, Erda's complexion had changed drastically, her face haggard and sallow.

Erda's golden hair had withered and lost its luster. Her eye sockets were dark and sunken, and her cracked lips bled.

She struggled up from the soft bed, called for her maid to dress her, and panted as she muttered, "I need to get there quickly. I have the power to stop the future now."

Erda had to be there today. She had to see with her own eyes whether the prophecy was true.

After being tormented by the gods' visions countless times, she had found a way to avoid that future: before everything happened, she would make the Primarchs leave the Emperor!

Erda hurried from her room, anxiously rushing to verify the future shown in the visions. Yet she did not hear the snickering hidden in the darkness behind her.

"Even immortals are mortal. Emotions will always be the weakness of the heart..."

She passed through the long corridor and entered the fortress. The elevator howled as it descended. Erda leaned against its stone wall and looked up at the ceiling light, while her suspended heart gradually turned cold and her hands clenched in anxious urgency.

She knew every echo of that elevator. In countless prophetic nightmares, she had likewise descended in this elevator, falling into darkness to face the Emperor's lies alone.

"My lady, your arrival was not part of the plan."

A small squad of the Emperor's most loyal servants waited at the elevator entrance. Valdor stood at the front, holding a Power Halberd in his left hand while his right rested at his waist, ready to draw the sword at his side at any moment.

The commander of the Custodes was always on guard against every possible enemy. Even Erda, who had long remained at the Emperor's side, was among those he watched.

The Custodes' loyalty belonged solely to the Emperor, their creator.

Seeing that the visitor was Erda, Valdor moved his right hand away from his waist as a sign of respect and stepped aside to invite her into the laboratory.

The Emperor's friends could enter and leave this place freely. He had once granted her that right.

Erda nodded lightly and entered the laboratory under Valdor's guidance. The interior was brightly lit, and machinery hummed.

In just a few days, the Primarchs had developed to the infant stage. Following the original plan, the Emperor and the others had come to extract Gene-seed.

The Emperor stood in the center of the laboratory, strengthening the psychic barrier that isolated the power of the Warp.

Without the others' knowledge, the evil gods had launched several attacks from the Warp, attempting to shatter the barrier.

The evil gods never stayed peacefully in their place. They sought to come early and collect the fruits of their bargain.

Fortunately, the power of the evil gods was infinitely weakened by the laws of physics in the material universe. With the Emperor himself maintaining the barrier through psychic power, the laboratory was nearly impregnable on the aetheric level beneath such layers of protection. The evil gods howled beyond the barrier, yet could not enter.

Erda walked to Malcador's side and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. Her body was relaxed and her face expressionless, betraying no emotional fluctuation. "Malcador, have you not begun yet?"

"My lady, you do not seem to be well. What has left you so haggard?" Malcador asked Erda with the subdued concern of a gentleman.

But his appearance had nothing whatsoever to do with that of a gentleman.

The upper half of his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood. His gaunt chin rose and fell as he spoke in a hoarse voice, somewhat surprised by Erda's condition.

Malcador paid closer attention to immortals.

There were not many immortals on Terra to begin with. Each was a treasury of knowledge left behind by human civilization, to say nothing of Erda, a friend who stood on the Emperor's side.

"Malcador, it seems extracting the genetic material has caused me more harm than expected." Erda returned a smile, choosing to conceal the prophecies in her mind without leaving a trace and keeping the subject under control.

Malcador and the Emperor were as close as though they wore the same trousers, intimate yet mutually respectful. Malcador himself possessed great wisdom, and no slightest clue could escape the sharp eyes beneath his hood.

"Would you like me to kill you, my lady?" As though taking a life were merely offering assistance, Valdor quietly stood behind them with his ears pricked, then spoke at an inappropriate moment.

"Commander of the Custodes, I would rather kill myself than die by your hand." Erda turned around and politely declined Valdor's suggestion. She showed not the slightest fear of death, and there was no ripple in her voice.

Valdor did not truly wish to kill Erda. He wanted to help her regain her health.

Immortals possessed an exceedingly rare and special constitution. Their lifespan was long, almost eternal. More than that, after an immortal was killed, they would revive within a short time, their body and mind reset to their peak condition.

Valdor shrugged helplessly. His armor softly scraped as it moved, and his eagle-wing pauldrons swayed like an eagle beating its wings. A faint smile appeared on his handsome face, which seemed perpetually tense, as he voiced his regret:

"That is rather unfortunate, my lady. I would very much like to help you resolve your troubles."

The lines around Malcador's mouth pulled taut as he smiled as well.

It was rare for them to relax like this, but the Emperor's voice sounded, shattering the easy atmosphere.

"Constantin Valdor!" Having completed the psychic barrier, the Emperor loudly called the commander of the Custodes by name, summoning his servant.

Valdor immediately stepped forward and, at the Emperor's instruction, activated the machine. It began extracting genetic material from the Primarchs in the incubation tanks, who had grown to the size of normal human infants, material that could be used to cultivate Gene-seed.

The machine activated. Mechanical tentacles extended into the incubation tanks and pierced the infants' spines, extracting the purest genetic material from their spinal fluid.

The Primarchs awoke with a start from their sleep. Pain twisted their chubby cheeks as they flailed their plump limbs, trying to resist the agony.

Even as infants, the Primarchs were immensely powerful. After all, they were Warp demigods by nature.

The incubation tanks creaked and trembled slightly. The little Primarchs possessed astonishing strength and even seemed to want to break the tanks.

The Emperor's brow furrowed faintly. Golden psychic power transformed into ropes and chains, pinning the Primarchs against the walls of their tanks.

The little Primarchs opened their mouths, screaming soundlessly in the amniotic fluid. Yet the Emperor remained unmoved and signaled Valdor to continue.

Seeing her children by blood enduring such suffering and cruel mistreatment, Erda felt it all as if it were happening to her.

Deep in her heart, pain cut like a knife. An invisible agony gripped her heart and slowly tightened, nearly leaving her unable to breathe.

Yet their father remained unmoved, standing there expressionlessly as though he could not hear the childish cries of pain coming from the incubation tanks.

It was not just the Emperor. Erda discreetly observed her surroundings, and everything she saw left a mother nearly despairing.

Fragments of visions flashed through her mind again. Chaos dared not act recklessly beside the Emperor, but after the torment of the visions, the gods had left profound psychological suggestions within Erda's thoughts.

Those suggestions were silently distorting everything she saw, rewriting it into malice and lies, constantly driving the evil in her heart to grow wild.

In her daze, Erda seemed to see the corner of Malcador's mouth curl upward, as though he enjoyed the suffering of the young Primarchs.

In the future, he would become the Primarchs' godfather, turning them into mindless war machines—numb and hollow, without souls, stripped of free will.

Valdor watched the Primarchs being harmed with great interest. He was unmoved, and even wanted to kill them.

He would do it! After humanity conquered the galaxy, he would personally kill the Primarchs, just as the Emperor was recently preparing to do with the unstable Thunder Warriors.

"No!" Erda's soul was pierced by ice, and fear stiffened her limbs as she screamed inwardly, This future must never come to pass!

At that moment, Erda made up her mind. She had to make the Primarchs leave the Emperor and grant them freedom!

"Ha ha ha ha! Krrk!"

The instant she made her decision, deep within the Warp's Crystal Labyrinth, Tzeentch—who had been watching every minute change in reality—stretched out his neck, threw back his head, and laughed wildly.

The spinning wheel of fate began to turn, and countless destinies intertwined into a tapestry.

Now, the laughing evil god clutched a handful of threads of fate. His fingers gently toyed with them, plucking up those threads to introduce variables into humanity's future.

"The beginning of so many destinies should not lie within that 'Master of Mankind's' designs. They should be filled with variables."

Tzeentch's form twisted without cease. He was satisfied at having brought change to fixed destiny, and exhilarated by his control over it all.

"Fate..." Tzeentch could not help sighing. "Intangible, yet marked by traces. Even gods are bound by it at certain times..."

"And you? Outsider." The evil god's gaze pierced through illusion and fell upon the veil of reality, upon Primarch Twenty-One sleeping soundly in the incubation tank. "What kind of surprise will you bring me?"

"I truly look forward to it!"

The evil god's voice fell silent within the Crystal Labyrinth as he began weaving conspiracies and schemes, guiding the coming changes and watching fate's course.