King Boleslav, with hurried and trembling hands, donned the artificer power armor bestowed upon the first king by Sage Kivior, its mastercrafted mechanisms humming with latent potency. From the multi-barreled lascannon mounted upon his arm, he drew a flicker of courage, a spark to reignite his faltering resolve.
He recalled his eighteenth year, when he had donned this very armor upon the training grounds, unleashing a salvo that obliterated a Miguel Steel training effigy in a single, resplendent burst.
Turning to his personal guard, Boleslav bellowed, "Follow me! We strike down the traitor!"
With resolute strides, he marched toward the palace's grand gates, his armored footfalls echoing with imperious determination.
Yet, after a mere three steps, a cataclysmic crash resounded, and the gates were sundered, their reinforced plasteel torn asunder by an unstoppable force.
The king's guards, loyal to their last breath, charged toward Nimrod, their weapons raised in defiance.
Boleslav raised both arms, seizing the moment with ruthless intent. Without mercy, he triggered the lascannon, unleashing dozens of searing beams toward the breached portal.
The beams, capable of piercing armored vehicles, tore through the skulls of several loyal guards, their sacrifice unnoticed by the king. To slay the demon-like terror before him, no cost was too great.
Boleslav's eyes widened as two beams struck the giant, punching through his makeshift armor.
Yet, the colossus did not fall, nor was he pierced. As the blinding radiance of the las-fire faded, the king glimpsed, through the twin perforations, only Nimrod's lustrous skin, its sheen slightly dulled but unmarred.
[Monster!]
In the next heartbeat, Nimrod materialized before Boleslav, his fist a comet of wrath. The blow sent the king hurtling over a dozen meters, embedding him into the wall as a living effigy of defeat.
When Howard and his retinue ascended to the palace's uppermost chamber, they beheld King Boleslav, fused into the masonry, a grotesque monument to his fall.
The golden-haired noble stood transfixed for several seconds before regaining his composure. A new era had dawned, and as one of the earliest to pledge fealty, he resolved to prove his worth to the ascendant king.
"My lord," Howard ventured, "to command Tetzvok's hive, you must secure the Adeptus Mechanicus' allegiance."
Nimrod, noting Howard's composure, harbored a suspicion. He activated his spiritual vision.
Through rigorous practice since his gene-awakening, he had honed the integration of spiritual vision into his superhuman senses.
Eschewing the customary tap upon his brow, he relied on mental discipline, achieving the vision's activation within a single second.
"You seem to have a plan. Speak."
"My lord, the Adeptus Mechanicus' true concern lies in Tetzvok's industrial output—the resources and production quotas they can extract."
"The Finder family has long maintained close ties with the Mechanicus. I offer to represent you in negotiations with Sage Kaminsky."
Nimrod's spiritual vision revealed Howard's aura: a vibrant red of fervent enthusiasm intertwined with white, radiating clarity and ambition. This aligned with the emotions of one newly sworn, eager to demonstrate loyalty and utility.
"Very well. You shall represent me in parley with the Mechanicus."
Nimrod and Howard swiftly established guiding principles: Howard would negotiate terms, subject to Nimrod's final approval.
Deactivating his spiritual vision, Nimrod accepted the vox-comm Howard proffered, verifying the channel before issuing commands.
"Order your men to occupy the spire's outer defensive emplacements and establish a perimeter."
Due to Howard's defection and the collapse of enemy morale, several turrets remained operational.
Lacking trusted lieutenants skilled in these precise weapons, and with the Finder family's loyalty yet to be proven, Nimrod assigned them the outer defenses.
"As you command, my lord."
Howard complied, leading his family's guards from the spire to fortify the defensive arrays.
Bukayo and Rawlslev approached Nimrod, the juvenile's dagger dripping with blood, his vengeance fulfilled. He spoke with solemnity.
"My lord, the remnants of the Boleslav dynasty have been eradicated by my hand."
"Only Prince Robert of the Boleslav line remains, absent from Vostonia."
"I interrogated his wife. The Sea Canticle, Vostonia's food supplier, suffered an xenos incursion. Sage Kaminsky personally intervened, compelling Robert to lead the dynasty's forces in response."
By the time the prince returned, Nimrod would hold unchallenged dominion. His concern lay with the xenos threat.
"Xenos pirates?"
"My lord, she knew no specifics, only that Sage Kaminsky's directive prompted Robert's personal command."
Nimrod nodded, resolving to probe the xenos matter later.
Rawlslev reported next. "My lord, the spire is sealed, and the purge continues."
Nimrod ordered Rawlslev to fortify defenses and eliminate remaining foes within the spire, then turned to Bukayo.
"You will scout the Upper Hive alone."
"As you command, my lord."
Both found vox-comms among the fallen, exchanging channels with Nimrod before departing. Alone in the desolate palace, he retreated into the Nation of Disorder.
A sudden sensation of ethereal buoyancy enveloped Nimrod's form.
[Could it be? After ascending to Sequence 8, my body can now enter the Nation of Disorder?]
In the next instant, his physical form vanished from the palace.
Entering the Nation of Disorder, Nimrod perceived an immediate transformation in the black-misted realm.
Beneath his feet, the obsidian bricks hinted at another facet, where swirling mists concealed thirty-three stratified realms.
Each layer shimmered with spectral edifices, the highest crowned by a majestic, towering palace.
He attempted to traverse to these inverted realms, finding himself in the lowest stratum of the opposite facet.
Seeking a higher layer, his body remained anchored, denied access to further domains.
Approaching a stone dwelling, Nimrod contrasted this realm with the one he had known.
[This is more tangible, governed by time, space, and physicality, with structures of true substance.
The other facet is a shadow—ethereal, unbound by physics, vast, and infinite.]
With a thought, he returned to the material world.
[The Nation of Disorder's evolution offers a sanctuary.
My flesh entering this true realm…]
Nimrod's obsidian eyes gleamed, his mind alight with myriad possibilities. He resolved to test these hypotheses later.
With another thought, he reappeared before the Blasphemous Slate in the shadow facet, noting its alterations.
The Sequence 9 potion formulas for all twenty-two Pathways were unlocked, save for two: "Abyss" and "Chained."
For Sequence 8, only the "Barbarian" formula was detailed; others remained opaque. His focus shifted to his own Pathway's Sequence 7 potion.
Sequence 7 "Briber" Potion Formula:
- Main Ingredients: 1 Night Shard, 1 Umbra Fiend.
- Auxiliary Ingredients: 1100 milliliters of Black Rasvort, 1 Light Effigy of a Void Ape.
- Beyonder Abilities: …
Nimrod frowned, recognizing the improbability of ascending to Sequence 7 imminently.
Not only were three of the four materials—save Rasvort—dimly lit on the slate, signaling their inaccessibility, but his knowledge of them posed further challenges.
The Umbra Fiend, relatively attainable, dwelt in the void, drawn to regions resonating with the Warp.
A Warp voyage would assuredly attract them, though Tech-Priests and enginseers monitoring Warp engines and vents rarely noticed their 80-centimeter forms.
Void Apes, creations of the Old Ones, roamed the galaxy in small, nomadic clans of ten or so, their sole aim survival.
Night Shards, psionic relics of the Fra'el, were later used by Imperial augurs as divination foci. The Fra'el, nomadic within the Veiled Expanse, were as elusive as Void Apes, their discovery a matter of chance.
Nimrod's disappointment was fleeting, tempered by resolve.
[After consolidating Vostonia, I'll ally with the Mechanicus, expand beyond this world, and gather potion materials.]
Exiting the Nation of Disorder, he returned to reality, approaching the wall.
As Nimrod removed a ring from Boleslav's finger, his unrestrained strength tore the king's hand free, as one might yank a radish from soil, roots and all.