The Wheel of Fate

21. The Wheel of Fate

In the vast and boundless Warhammer universe, a tiny planet floated silently through space. Seen from afar, it was a blurry yellow-green world—Barbarus.

Within the course of this world existed countless mundane, unremarkable lives—

They were born into this world, struggled to survive, then died in silence.

They did not know why they were born, nor why they died.

Yet they clung to life, obsessed over it, coveted it—the taste of living, of struggling onward, of refusing to die.

Just like humanity in the myriad other worlds.

Perhaps the humans of Barbarus were better than those of other worlds. Or perhaps they were worse?

But regardless, centuries upon centuries of life had long accustomed these humans, whose average lifespan was less than twenty solar years, to it all.

Life was inertia. People busily revolved around their own inertia. In minds incapable of recognizing anything more, inertia was law: maintain inertia, maintain life, survive.

Like mute livestock whose vocal cords had been corroded away by poisonous fog, they labored day after day upon Barbarus's barren land, day after day living beneath eternal oppression and fear.

Perhaps, on some day in those long centuries, one of them had erupted beneath that oppression, had raged against that fear. He had raised the banner of revolt, seized a blade, and faced the tyrant's oppression head-on!

—but no matter what, he must have failed.

Those creatures who had sought change had long since died, while humanity's history upon the planet continued as ever, maintaining its predetermined course through inertia.

The planet silently revolved around its star, while the god of fate remained soundless, wordless, motionless.

Until the landing of that incubation pod that fell from the heavens.

Until the Lord of Death descended from the mountain shrouded year-round in poisonous fog.

The gears of fate, utterly stagnant and repetitive for centuries, received the command of the supreme god. Their decayed, loosened teeth began to mesh; the ash-filled machine began to run; gear after gear clicked as they slowly turned.

—The meticulously woven fate had begun to move.

The protagonist was a distinguished guest from beyond the heavens, while the supporting cast were slaves who had repeated the same script for centuries.

He happily simmered his wondrous broth. Everything was ready; all things were in place.

Seven careful weavings, seven heartfelt blessings, seven ingredients brewed, seven centuries of preparation.

Seven blessings, seven curses, seven fates—the rich soup had long since released its alluring fragrance.

All things decayed, yet all living beings endured.

The benevolent father had long prepared everything for His beloved son. He watched His one and only child.

Within Grandfather Nurgle's eternal, unchanging Great Garden, a destined place had long been reserved for His favored child!

Upon the most beautiful, fertile, enchanting, and comfortable soil of the Great Garden, upon the loveliest, warmest, most pleasant wilderness visible at a glance from the window of Grandfather Nurgle's manor—

Fleshly pustules were tirelessly licked by diligent rotflies; thick phlegm and rotting scars were reluctantly offered up by adorable devourer-bees; calamitous withered bones rose through foul, reeking slime; nauseating rotten meat transformed into soft, warm ground beneath them.

Nurglings chirped and sang upon the branches, Great Unclean Ones offered forth their treasured hoards, mange-bees buzzed softly, rotflies droned, and plague toads joyfully praised Grandfather Nurgle's kindness in the pus!

What a warm, loving family! Every member eagerly and anxiously prepared a warm, comfortable residence for the child who was about to arrive. When he came, countless filthy abominations would burst from the earth at Grandfather Nurgle's command, endless masses of flesh and pustules would rise beneath Grandfather Nurgle's gaze, and the dwelling this child loved most would be presented before him in its entirety.

That child, that pitiful child who had not yet thrown himself into Grandfather Nurgle's embrace, would like this place. He would praise it all!

Oh, what a great Grandfather Nurgle! What a great Grandfather Nurgle!

Every life in the Great Garden could not help but smile when thinking of the favored child soon to come. That lucky child! they silently blessed him in their hearts.

However.

However.

However.

An uninvited guest had quietly stepped onto the stage of repetition and stagnation.

A spectator from afar began applauding before Grandfather Nurgle could.

Immersed in simmering the rich broth of fate, Grandfather Nurgle overlooked changes small enough to allow even the most insignificant alterations to accumulate.

He had overlooked them.

Changes beyond fate and changes within fate found Him at once. The former were too subtle, while the latter were too troublesome.

No! His child would be His! Mortarion, His favored child! You could not take him away!

Grandfather Nurgle waved an arm, driving away that irritating fellow from afar, while the Nurglings busily continued tossing suitable ingredients into the cauldron.

Grandfather Nurgle grumbled as He dealt with His old enemy, once again helplessly drawing away His attention.

The visitor from beyond the world thus gained a moment to breathe through the gap left as Grandfather Nurgle's gaze swept past.

The Lord of Change shrieked. The script repeated a thousand times, watched by all, was finally due to end!!!

Change, change, change—unfathomable change from beyond the world!

Ninefold transformation, ninefold subversion, nine layers of mockery—the threads of fate wove without end!

Cast aside those mesmerizing and astonishing pasts, presents, and futures!

Change itself was the reward; change itself was the purpose. Change within change condensed infinite mysteries. All things in the world obeyed rules, and rules themselves were contempt and shackles upon all of this!

He saw this wondrous upheaval. The chaotic, uncertain time of the Warp revealed to Him endless changes, mysteries that stood apart from the world itself.

Arrogant shrieks pierced all things; ecstatic shrieks disturbed all things!

He shrieked, and the labyrinth of endless change began its dance of transformation once more. The creatures imprisoned and lost within it once again began their flight through endless change.

Break the rules, stir fate, provoke the world.

[Emperor's Dream]

"My lord, Omega-class interference distortions have appeared in the Warp sector near us. It is estimated that Warp Jumps will become difficult for the next six solar months."

"Except... Warp Jumps toward one specific direction. The Warp in that direction is quite stable."

.

+This is an invitation. This is an explicit sign.+

+This is a transaction.+

Golden eyes gathered humanity's wisdom from antiquity to the present, now shining with flowing light.

Warning:

The next few chapters are knives. Knives, knives, knives!

Readers who cannot handle it are advised to skip directly to Chapter 29. Do not read these chapters!!!

Readers who enjoy a cruel style may continue reading.

Believe in Grandfather Nurgle, gain eternal life!!!

Look at this author. Not only does he believe in Nurgle, he also believes in Khorne. Besides that, he also likes Tzeentch.

But I do not like Slaanesh.

I'll lay my cards on the table: I'm on Chaos's side. (Of course, the protagonist is from the Imperium.)