Betrayed and abandoned

The entire Genestealer Cult had transformed from an oppressive, silent secret organization awaiting the apocalypse into a vibrant, creative... diversified community with even a hint of carnival flair.

The faithful had undergone a complete change in spirit. The numbness and despair had vanished from their faces, replaced by a fervent glow filled with purpose. They still awaited the "Day of Ascension," but no longer saw themselves as lambs led to slaughter. Instead, they were hosts about to throw a grand "welcome party" for their great four-in-one deity.

And the architect of it all, Liu Zhipeng, watched this "renaissance" of his own making with cold detachment.

He rarely spoke in public anymore, but he was everywhere.

He appeared in the secret fight clubs of "Khorne's" followers, teaching them how to use their physical strength more effectively; he joined "Nurgle's" "nurses" in bandaging the wounded's festering injuries, and his hands, imbued with "a loving father's affection," actually seemed to ease pain and accelerate healing;

He watched with keen interest as "Tzeentch's" followers presented their next "prank"; he even served as head judge at "Slaanesh's" fashion shows, offering expert critiques of a headdress fashioned from wire and feathers (taken from mutated rats in the mines).

He had become everyone's "Brother Peng," an all-powerful, all-knowing living saint who was always with them.

The psychic network known as the Broodmind had also undergone a wondrous transformation. Its once cold, uniform connections, steeped in obedience, had become noisy, passionate, and richly varied. Furious war cries, steadfast prayers, snickers at successful schemes, and moans in pursuit of ultimate sensations-four utterly distinct forms of "divinity" intertwined and collided within the network, creating an unprecedented symphony of Chaos.

And the conductor of this symphony was Liu Zhipeng. His consciousness stood above all the others, clearly sensing every follower's emotions and guiding the flow of their faith.

For High Priest Vaughn, all of this was nothing short of a nightmare.

He felt like a king stripped of his power. He remained the cult's leader in name, but every order he issued was "reinterpreted" by the faithful through the doctrines of the "Four Gods," until it became utterly unrecognizable.

He ordered the warriors to heighten their vigilance and prepare for the "Day of Ascension." Instead, they went off and established a "Skull Arena," where they fought bloody duels every day, claiming these were offerings to "Khorne" in exchange for courage in battle.

He instructed the logistics department to stockpile supplies for the uprising. Instead, they used half those supplies to brew a potent liquor blended from mutated mushrooms and industrial alcohol, claiming it was holy water bestowed by "Slaanesh" that allowed drinkers to "experience the bliss of ascension in advance."

What he found most intolerable were "Tzeentch's" followers. They had even hacked into his personal data terminal and rewritten all his treasured scriptures about the "Four-Armed Emperor" into absurd, poorly written stories about "a giant blue bird obsessed with toying with fate."

Vaughn felt his sanity being gnawed away, bit by bit. He tried to reunify their thinking through the Broodmind, only to discover that the psychic network he had once controlled had become a boiling broth of Chaos he could not begin to comprehend. Every attempt to forcibly instill the "Progenitor's" will was repelled by four powerful currents of faith, utterly distinct yet born of the same source, leaving him with a splitting headache.

He knew he had to do something. Otherwise, this cult, the cause he had spent his entire life fighting for, would be utterly destroyed by that madman called "Peng."

He sought out Bishop Kaz, the military leader who nominally controlled the cult's armed forces.

"Look! Look at what they've become!" Vaughn pointed out the window at a group of fanatical followers painting cult symbols in blood, his voice trembling with rage. "This isn't faith! It's blasphemy! Madness!"

Bishop Kaz, a burly fourth-generation hybrid, merely polished his enormous rending claws in silence. His face betrayed no emotion.

"But they've become stronger." Kaz finally spoke, his voice like metal scraping against metal. "One of my men can now take on three of their former selves. There's no fear in their eyes anymore."

"That's deluded madness! Not true strength!" Vaughn roared.

"I only care about results, Vaughn." Kaz raised his head, his pale violet Xenos eyes regarding Vaughn coldly. "'Brother Peng's' theories make our warriors eager to fight. Yours only make them eager to wait. If the 'Day of Ascension' comes tomorrow, I'd rather lead the army we have now to clear a path for the Progenitor."

Vaughn felt as though he had plunged into an icy pit.

His last and most trusted ally, that simple-minded warrior, had been won over by the madman too. No, not won over. Kaz was simply a pure pragmatist. Whoever could make his army stronger would have his support.

Vaughn understood now. Everyone had betrayed and abandoned him. In the kingdom he had built with his own hands, he stood utterly alone.

But he still had one final card to play.

"The Patriarch..." he muttered to himself. "Only the Progenitor's will can set things right..."

He decided to personally seek an audience with the being hidden in the deepest reaches of the mining district, the genetic and psychic core of the entire cult-the purestrain Genestealer, the "Patriarch" of all the faithful. He would draw on the Patriarch's supreme psychic power to forcibly cleanse the entire Broodmind and drag every follower back from the heretical teachings of those "Four Gods"!

It was an extraordinarily dangerous move, tantamount to "reformatting" the entire psychic network. If he succeeded, he would regain control; if he failed, his consciousness might be torn apart by that raging torrent of faith in Chaos.

But he had no other choice.

As Vaughn stumbled toward the Patriarch's lair in the deepest part of the sanctuary, Liu Zhipeng sat on a glowing fungus, playing a game with Boji... no, with his deputy in this life, a scrawny hybrid named "Little Claw," using miners' tags and fragments of skull.

"Boss," Little Claw said in a low voice as he deftly played his cards, "Lord Vaughn has gone to see the 'old ancestor.'"

Liu Zhipeng smiled and played the last card in his hand.

"Checkmate," he said softly. Then he raised his head, his gaze seeming to pierce through layer upon layer of rock to the figure walking toward the end of his fate.