Dark Future

Once a crack of distrust appears, it widens infinitely with every moment of contemplation and verification.

The gods of the Warp planted seeds of doubt in the heart of Erda, and every ounce of mistrust served as nourishment, watering the seeds until they sprouted, grew, and finally towered like a great tree.

Every night, Erda was tormented by visions; she knew everything yet lacked the strength to resist. The power of the Warp probed her inner defenses, gradually eroding the barriers of her will.

The dark power influenced her subconscious, unseen, as countless futures emerged from the fragments of her visions.

She could see Emperor, the most powerful warlord on Terra. He had never changed; slaughter and plunder were his nature. Beneath the vow to save humanity lay his true ambition:

To conquer and enslave humanity, for ascending to godhood was his true goal. The infant Primarch were to be enslaved by Emperor and molded into horrific machines of slaughter.

They would, under the mandate of Emperor's ambition, raise their blades against humanity, reaping every human soul to aid Emperor in his ascension to godhood.

The visions shifted unpredictably, and Erda, her heart nearing collapse, saw another scene—one that pained her even more.

After unifying humanity, Emperor would betray his sons, purging the Primarch and their Legions. The galaxy would be ignited by endless war due to the falling out between father and sons, and in the burning galaxy, father and sons would slaughter one another.

The Primarch who supported Emperor and those who fought for their own survival would butcher each other, turning blades against their own kin, vowing to kill their blood-related brothers.

In the visions, countless possibilities tore at Erda's soul; she was like a lone boat, teetering in the midst of a storm.

Seeking out Emperor might resolve these minor troubles, but the images in her mind made Erda hesitate.

She knew those visions were likely false, a trick of the Warp gods, but... what if they were true?

Erda was bathed in tears. In the nightmare, she covered her eyes powerlessly, not daring to look at those tragic scenes.

There could be no crime more depraved among humanity than kin slaughtering kin.

Father and sons drawing swords against one another, brothers turning on their own blood—and along with all this, the severed future of humanity!

Erda covered her face. The fantasies played out in her mind, as real as if she were there. She kept trying to change something, yet found it difficult to stop.

A whisper drifted from the darkness, a chuckle filled with the smugness of a successful conspiracy: "You can do nothing. Their fate is already sealed. The gods shall savor this sweet depravity."

"No!" Erda screamed, snapping her eyes open. She wanted to refute the voice, but looking around, she saw only the furnishings of her own room.

A maid stood at the door, her eyes full of concern: "My Lady, are you alright?"

"I am fine," Erda said, her cheeks pale, offering a weak smile to soothe the maid's worry. "You may go."

The maid dared not speak further; she bowed slightly, retreated slowly, and closed the door.

The room returned to dark silence. Erda lay on the bed, contemplating those dark visions—everything the Dark Gods wished to see.

How could she avoid all this? How could she preserve her sons from the machinations of the gods?

Days passed, and waking again from the cycle of nightmares, Erda's complexion had changed drastically; her face was withered and dull.

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

She struggled to rise from the soft bed, calling for the maid to help her dress, gasping as she muttered to herself: "I must go quickly. I have the power to stop the future now."

Erda had to be present today; she had to see with her own eyes whether the prophecy was true or false.

Tormented countless times by the visions of the gods, she had found a way to avoid the future: before anything could happen, she would make the Primarch leave Emperor!

Erda hurried out of the room, rushing to verify the future shown in the visions, yet she did not hear the chuckling hidden in the shadows of the room behind her.

"Even the Perpetuals are but mortals; emotions will always be the weakness of the heart..."

Passing through the long corridor into the fortress, the elevator plummeted with a whistle. Erda leaned against the stone wall of the elevator, looking up at the ceiling light. Her suspended heart gradually turned cold, and she clenched her hands, burning with anxiety.

She was familiar with every note of the elevator's echo. In countless prophetic nightmares, she had also been falling in this elevator, descending into darkness to face Emperor's lies alone.

"My Lady, your arrival is not in the schedule."

A small squad of Emperor's most loyal servants waited at the elevator entrance. Standing at the front of the squad was World, his left hand gripping a power halberd, his right hand resting on his waist, ready at any moment to draw the blade at his side.

The Captain of the Custodes was always on guard against any potential enemy, even though Erda had long remained by Emperor's side; she was still among those he monitored.

The loyalty of the Custodes belonged exclusively to Emperor, their creator.

Seeing that the visitor was Erda, World moved his right hand away from his waist in a gesture of respect and stepped aside to allow Erda to enter the laboratory.

As a friend of Emperor, she could enter and exit at will; Emperor had once granted her that right.

Erda nodded slightly and, led by World, entered the laboratory. Inside, the lights were bright, and the machines hummed.

In the span of a few days, the Primarch had already developed to the infant stage. Emperor and the others had arrived according to the original plan to extract the gene-seed.

Emperor stood in the center of the laboratory, strengthening the psychic barrier to isolate the power of the Warp.

Unknown to the others, the Dark Gods had launched several assaults from the Warp, attempting to shatter the barrier.

The Dark Gods were never content; they were attempting to collect the fruits of their bargain early.

Fortunately, the power of the Dark Gods was infinitely weakened by the laws of physics in the material universe, and with Emperor himself raising the barrier with his psychic power, the laboratory was nearly impenetrable on the etheric level under heavy protection. The Dark Gods roared outside the barrier, but could not enter.

Erda came to the side of Malcador and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, her body relaxed and her expression blank, showing no emotional fluctuation: "Malcador, has it not begun yet?"

"My Lady, you do not seem well. What has made you so haggard?" Malcador's tone was like that of a gentleman, asking Erda with concern in a lowered voice.

It was just that his appearance had nothing in common with a gentleman.

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

Malcador paid extra attention to the Perpetuals.

There were few Perpetuals on Terra, and each was a repository of knowledge left over from human civilization; furthermore, Erda was a friend who stood on the side of Emperor.

"Malcador, it seems the extraction of genetic material has caused me more harm than I anticipated." Erda offered a smile, choosing to conceal the visions in her mind without a trace and steering the conversation elsewhere.

Malcador and Emperor were as thick as thieves, intimate yet mutually respectful. He possessed great wisdom, and not a single clue could escape the sharp eyes hidden beneath his hood.

"Do you require me to end your life, my lady?" The act of taking a life was spoken as if it were a favor. Constantin Valdor stood silently behind them, ears pricked to their conversation, and spoke with ill-timed bluntness.

"Captain-General of the Custodes, I would rather commit suicide than die by your hand." Erda turned back, politely declining Constantin Valdor's suggestion. She felt not a shred of fear toward death, her voice devoid of any ripples.

Constantin Valdor did not truly wish to kill Erda; rather, he wanted to help her recover her health.

Perpetuals were an extremely rare and special breed, possessing lifespans that were effectively eternal. Not only that, but if a Perpetual were killed, they would revive within a short time, resetting their physical and mental state back to their prime.

He shrugged helplessly, his full suit of armor creaking softly, the shifting eagle-wing pauldrons resembling the beating wings of a raptor. A faint smile touched Constantin Valdor's handsome face, which seemed perpetually taut, as he expressed his regret:

"That is truly a pity, my lady. I would have very much liked to help you resolve your troubles."

The nasolabial folds at the corners of Malcador's mouth pulled tight, and he, too, smiled.

It was rare for the group to share a moment of levity, but then Emperor's voice rang out, shattering the relaxed atmosphere.

"Constantin Valdor!" Emperor finished the psychic barrier and simultaneously bellowed the name of the Captain-General of the Custodes, summoning his servant.

Constantin Valdor stepped forward immediately. Under Emperor's direction, he activated the machinery and began to extract the genetic material from the Primarchs—who had grown to the size of normal human infants—that could be used to cultivate gene-seeds.

The machine engaged, and mechanical tentacles pierced the spines of the infants from within the incubation tanks, drawing the purest genetic material from their spinal fluid.

The Primarchs jolted awake from their slumber, their chubby cheeks twisted in agony as they shook their soft, plump limbs in a futile attempt to resist the pain.

Primarchs were incredibly powerful even in infancy; they were, after all, Warp demigods in essence.

The incubation tanks creaked and rattled; the little Primarchs possessed astonishing strength, even attempting to shatter their containers.

Emperor's brow furrowed slightly, and his golden psychic energy transformed into shackles, pinning the Primarchs against the walls of the tanks.

The little Primarchs opened their mouths, screaming soundlessly within the amniotic fluid, yet Emperor remained unmoved, signaling for Constantin Valdor to continue.

Seeing the pain endured by her own blood-kin, subjected to such cruel abuse, Erda felt it as if it were her own.

Deep within, her heart felt as though it were being sliced by knives; an invisible agony gripped her heart, tightening slowly until she could barely breathe.

Yet their father remained indifferent, standing there expressionless, as if he could not hear the infantile cries of pain emanating from the tanks.

It was not just Emperor; Erda observed her surroundings with a calm facade, but everything she saw left a mother feeling nearly desperate.

Fragmented visions flashed through her mind once more. Chaos dared not act rashly in the presence of Emperor, but through the torture of these visions, the gods had left deep psychological suggestions in Erda's mind.

These suggestions were silently twisting everything she saw, rewriting it into malice and lies, constantly goading the malice within her heart to grow wild.

In a daze, Erda seemed to see the corners of Malcador's mouth curl upward, as if he were enjoying the suffering of the young Primarchs.

In the future, he would become the godfather of the Primarchs, molding them into mindless war machines—numb, hollow, soulless, and devoid of free will.

Constantin Valdor watched the Primarchs suffer with keen interest; he was unmoved, even wishing to kill them.

He would succeed! After humanity conquered the galaxy, he would personally slay the Primarchs, just as Emperor was currently preparing to execute his plan: to erase the unstable Thunder Warriors.

"No!" Erda's soul was pierced by ice, her limbs stiffened by terror, and she screamed in the depths of her heart: "Such a future must never come to pass!"

At that moment, Erda made her resolve: she had to get the Primarchs away from Emperor and grant them their freedom!

"Hahahahaha! Gaa!"

The moment she made her resolve, deep within the Crystal Labyrinth of the Warp, Tzeentch—who had been watching every minute change in the mortal realm—stretched his neck, threw his head back, and laughed wantonly.

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

Now, the cackling Evil God clutched a handful of threads of fate. With a gentle flick of his fingers, he plucked at the threads, adding variables to the future of humanity.

"The beginning of many destinies should not be within the plans of that 'Master of Mankind'; they should be full of variables."

Tzeentch's form twisted incessantly; he was satisfied by introducing change to a fixed fate, and exhilarated by orchestrating it all.

"Fate, oh fate~" Tzeentch could not help but let out a long sigh: "Ethereal yet traceable; even the gods are bound by it at certain moments..."

"And you? Outsider." The Evil God's gaze pierced the veil of illusion, casting itself toward the curtain of reality, looking at the Primarch Twenty-One sleeping soundly in the incubation tank: "What kind of surprise will you bring me?"

"I am truly looking forward to it!"

The Evil God's voice faded into the Crystal Labyrinth as he began to weave schemes and plots, guiding the occurrence of change and watching the trajectory of fate.