Not long after Delia issued her orders, the tide of Chaos pouring from the breach began to solidify. Some demons had no clear master; they craved the souls of the living. Others served Tzeentch, sealed within Men of Iron and sworn to raise hell.
The void fortresses within the Big Canteen Galaxy opened fire on the densely packed demons. Disruption Arcs and Blackstone torpedoes were exceptionally lethal against them. Whenever those spires brimming with violent energy focused their fire on an area, the demons there departed reality amid explosions of green lightning.
The veil continued to dissolve and collapse. The breach in the void grew ever larger, while rifts of varying sizes appeared in the skies and across the ground of the planets as well.
Demons poured forth and stood in the streets. By past experience, an Imperium world would descend into turmoil the instant a Warp rift opened. The mutants of the hive's lower levels, long oppressed and burdened by hardship, along with the poor huddling together for warmth, would readily accept the blessings carried by the voices of Chaos, then turn their rage upward in revenge.
Bite them! Strangle them with your hands! Even with your dying breath, never let them go!
Meanwhile, cultists hidden in every corner of the world would disrupt the response speed of Imperium agencies, intercept information about severe riots among the lower classes, and allow the flames of Chaos to intensify further and further.
But on this street...
A plump demon covered from head to toe in the heads of various creatures sniffed at the scents in the air with its many noses.
Surprise! Curiosity! Confusion! Fear! Unease...
Those scents intoxicated the demon and whetted its appetite.
As it sniffed, an odd emotion rose in its heart.
Why was there no scent of