Chapter 127: The Mind Flayer Encounter
A creature floated through the prison's entrance. Its presence immediately drew attention from everyone in the confined space.
The being had purple, glistening skin, like that of some deep-ocean predator. Its eyes held the cold hunger of a shark evaluating prey. Tentacles writhed around its mouth in constant motion.
The entity stood as tall as one of the Emperor's gene-sons. Psychic energy radiated from it, making the air feel thick and oppressive. Its limbs showed unusual length and obvious strength. Elaborate clothing covered in spines suggested a high rank among its kind.
When it spotted the Emperor and His companions, surprise flickered across its alien features. The moment passed quickly. The creature dismissed them as less important than other business and glided toward another cell.
"Mind Flayer," Raven's psychic voice cut through the silence, sharing his recognition with both the Emperor and Valdo. "An Illithid."
Valdor's curiosity sparked at the unfamiliar term. "What exactly is that?"
Raven fixed him with a knowing look, one eyebrow raised in their familiar pattern. "Eager for knowledge, are we?"
"You know I'll make it worth your while," Valdor replied, understanding their established arrangement perfectly. "First thing when we're free—your favourite treat."
"I'll add it to your growing debt," Raven said with dry amusement before settling into explanation mode. "Mind Flayers, properly called Illithids, represent one of the most dangerous threats across multiple realities. They're psionic tyrants who build empires through the systematic enslavement of entire species."
"Those tentacles aren't just for appearance. They're feeding instruments that writhe with hunger whenever intelligent creatures come near. These xenos have made themselves the arch-enemies of countless civilisations by treating sentient beings like livestock."
"Their power goes beyond physical capabilities," Raven elaborated, his tone growing more serious.
"They possess psychic abilities that can bend entire populations to their will. A Mind Flayer creates armies of enslaved thralls who serve with absolute devotion. They rarely fight directly; instead, they orchestrate battles from safety while their puppets die gladly for their masters."
"Using this method, they've built an empire spanning multiple worlds. Most operate under Elder Brains, powerful entities that link their psychic networks across vast distances. The result is a coordinated threat that treats conquest like a science."
"Their feeding habits are bothersome," Raven's mental voice grew grimmer. "They consume living brains, extracting not just physical nourishment but memories, experiences, and the victim's essential mental essence. Well-fed Illithids develop a thin mucus film across their skin, a sign of recent feeding."
"When they devour a brain, they absorb everything: the victim's personality, knowledge, and even their deepest fears. Nothing remains private from these parasites."
"An abomination requiring immediate purging," Valdor concluded after processing this information.
"Indeed," the Emperor's voice carried quiet authority, His vast experience recognising the threat these creatures posed to all sentient life.
A wailing cry of despair interrupted their discussion.
A Githyanki warrior was dragged from the neighbouring cell, struggling uselessly against his bonds. The being shared humanity's basic shape but possessed distinctive differences, scaled patches across skin that bore yellow-green colouration, and eyes that were pools of complete darkness without any visible whites.
"Githyanki," Raven provided context without prompting. "Astral Plane warriors of considerable skill. They master crystal ships and bond with red dragons as mounts. The Illithids enslaved them for thousands of years, so their hatred for Mind Flayers burns like stellar fire. Hunting Illithids has become their species' coming-of-age ritual."
"Don't mistake them for heroes, though," he added with typical directness. "They've become raiders themselves. Githyanki sweep across worlds in coordinated attacks, taking what they need and leaving just enough for populations to rebuild. Then they return years later to plunder the same people again. War defines their entire culture."
The Mind Flayer's feeding began with clinical efficiency. Its tentacles wrapped around the Githyanki's skull while the warrior screamed. The brain extraction was swift and methodical.
When finished, the creature showed brief satisfaction before disposing of the corpse and departing without ceremony.
Silence returned to the prison.
"My lord," Valdor spoke quietly, "should we attempt escape now?"
The Emperor considered their circumstances with patience earned through millennia of warfare. "Not yet. This reality has significantly diminished our capabilities. The Primarchs remain unconscious. Malcador has not stirred. Acting prematurely would be unwise."
And so they settled in to wait.
Hours passed before three of the Emperor's gene-sons began stirring from unconsciousness.
Perturabo, Mortarion, and Lorgar awakened to find themselves imprisoned. Initial confusion gave way quickly to tactical assessment.
Raven shared their situation through psychic contact, bringing the Primarchs up to date on their current status. They adapted with typical resilience and began examining their surroundings with professional interest.
"Interesting biotechnology," Lorgar observed, running his fingers across the living walls.
"These creatures have merged organic matter with structural engineering in ways I haven't seen before."
Mortarion growled, "Disgusting xenos corruption," his voice carrying apparent revulsion. "Mind Flayers clearly embrace the most debased forms of existence possible."
Perturabo remained silent but studied the flesh-and-bone construction intently. His analytical mind dissected the engineering principles while filing away potentially valuable knowledge.
The Emperor had intended to wait for Malcador's awakening before moving. But external circumstances forced their timeline.
Boom!
A massive impact shook the entire structure. Something was attacking their location with heavy weapons.
Recognising immediate danger, the Emperor lifted the unconscious Malcador onto His shoulder with careful precision.
"We leave immediately."
The Master of Mankind raised His hand. Psychic energy erupted outward with controlled devastation. The bone-and-flesh gate disintegrated under power that had once illuminated the void between stars.
The Emperor stepped through the opening He had created. His presence alone scattered the lesser creatures serving as guards. When Mind Flayer thralls finally organised their attack, they discovered they faced beings who had perfected warfare across a galaxy.
Valdo and the awakened Primarchs moved through their opponents with deadly efficiency. Each claimed a weapon from a fallen guard while clearing a path toward freedom. Every movement was calculated, every strike precise.
Raven flew toward a window opening in the corridor wall, seeking reconnaissance of their broader situation. Through the aperture, he could see the curved architecture of a human city. But the structure surrounding it revealed their actual location.
"We're inside a nautiloid," he reported. "A Mind Flayer ship."
The vessel resembled a massive nautilus shell with red tentacles extending from its sides. Larger, armoured appendages at the rear provided additional offensive capability. The entire structure pulsed like something alive.
Around them, aerial combat raged in full fury. Githyanki warriors rode red dragon mounts in coordinated attacks against the nautiloid. Their silver weapons flashed as they struck. The dragons roared while breathing fire at the hull or biting the ship's tentacles directly.
Boom!
Another impact rocked everything. The nautiloid shuddered violently.
The ceiling above them, of flesh and bone, tore open under tremendous force. A dragon's head pushed through the breach. When it spotted the Emperor's group, the beast opened its mouth to release dragonfire.
Perturabo stepped forward to meet this threat. His hands closed around a massive battle-axe claimed from the guards. He advanced toward the coming flames without hesitation.
Dragonfire erupted in a torrent of superheated death. The flames could reduce steel to vapour and turn stone to glass.
Yet Perturabo walked through the inferno as if it were warm summer air. His enhanced physiology rendered the dragon's most dangerous weapon completely ineffective.
The Githyanki rider stared in disbelief. Such fire could melt the finest armour and reduce magical constructs to molten slag. This warrior walked through it unmarked, as if heat itself held no meaning for him.
When Perturabo reached striking distance, he launched himself upward with inhuman strength. The Githyanki raised his silver blade desperately, but the weapon proved meaningless against a Primarch's raw power.
The strike cleaved through both warrior and dragon skull in one motion. Even legendary dragon scales offered no resistance to such force. Superheated blood sprayed across the torn ceiling as the great beast screamed its death agony.
"For the glory of proper seasoning and well-prepared meals," Perturabo declared with the dry humour that occasionally surfaced from even the most serious gene-sons.
His axe fell again, finishing the dragon.
"Excellent work," Raven said with genuine approval.
Their victory proved brief. Reality twisted around them as the nautiloid engaged emergency dimensional translation. The ship wrenched itself through barriers between worlds with desperate efficiency.
They materialised in a realm of endless winter, where arctic winds howled through the vessel's new breaches.
Ice began forming on every surface as the temperature plummeted. The pursuing Githyanki followed through their own portals, maintaining their assault across dimensional boundaries.
Red dragons breathed fire that turned falling snow to steam as combat continued in this frozen wasteland.
Another spatial jump followed immediately. This time, they emerged in a realm where the sky burned red and sulfur tainted every breath. Below them stretched a crimson plain where horned humanoids engaged in endless slaughter.
Their battle cries rose like a blasphemous hymn to whatever dark powers ruled this dimension.
"Nine Hells," Raven observed grimly, recognising the infernal signs around them. "We've landed in the middle of a Cambion battlefield."
The implications were troubling. They had escaped one immediate danger only to find themselves trapped between pursuing Githyanki and whatever diabolical conflicts raged in the realm below them.
[End of Chapter]
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