141: Bastard Neos

In that instant—

Death sat upon a seat that did not belong to him.

It was not pleasant.

Where ashes danced, his whitened vision pierced through the rolling, endless tides of chaos. The mortal world was tiny and laughable; ants lived and multiplied beneath his feet. A long, clamorous phantom wound its way up from that complexity, and only then did Death realize it was time.

He felt indescribable sensations. At that moment, his world ascended once more—an assault upon the soul even more absurd than plunging into the Warp, swelling into a towering structure in an instant.

He tried to look at himself, only to glimpse an absurd, laughable existence. Kaleidoscopic patterns of light raged beside his scythe, weeping for the departure of the greedy lord among them.

?!

Only then did Death realize the abundance of his senses. Upon the thrones of authority within the dark chamber, the gods sat or half-sat. 9, 8, 7, 6... 5.

Five—the place where golden flames blazed.

Mortarion's eyes flew wide open.

+Relax, my child.+

Mortarion began breathing heavily. The primarch suddenly realized he was seated before a table, and the golden table and its ornaments stabbed at his eyes.

A moment ago, Mortarion had been swinging his scythe at Slaanesh. The next moment—he had experienced something indescribable. Yet before his soul had fully returned to itself, Mortarion's eyes could see again.

The primarch no longer had the leisure to despise the golden table. He gulped for air as though drawing the final breath of a dying man.

What had he just... experienced?

"I think I should praise you, my child."

The Emperor wore a crown, and golden flames wove his cloak. In a rare display of consideration, he had poured Mortarion a cup of coffee—before this, such a thing would have