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Chapter 131 - Chapter 131: The Three Paths

Chapter 131: The Three Paths

The Emperor gestured, and a subordinate stepped forward to present a map acquired from allied forces.

Halsin accepted the parchment and spread it across the wooden table, his fingers tracing the marked routes.

"Three paths lead to Moonrise Tower," the druid explained. "The first cuts through the Underdark. You can take a boat from the Grey Dwarf Beach straight to the tower. Fair warning, grey dwarves patrol those waters. They hate surface dwellers."

His finger moved to trace the second route. "The second path goes through the shadowlands. At the road's end sits a plague-cursed village with a hidden passage to Moonrise Tower. Dark things from the depths hunt along this route."

"The third way," Halsin continued, marking the final path,

"follows the Narrow Pass and crosses the bridge. This also reaches Moonrise Tower, but Githyanki dragon riders guard the approach. They let no force pass, no matter the reason."

The Master of Mankind studied the map. "Your counsel is valued, druid."

Raven materialised beside them with his usual enthusiasm. "Three paths for three Primarchs! Perfect. Each could lead their own force along a different route, clear the resistance, then meet at Moonrise Tower for the final strike."

The Emperor's expression remained thoughtful. "Sound thinking. Such an approach serves two purposes, eliminating our enemies while giving my gene-sons experience with this realm's warfare."

"Your Majesty," Halsin interjected, "I bring more news. Both the Circle of Druids and the Tiefling refugees have agreed to join your cause."

'Tieflings.' The Emperor's mind processed the information Raven shared through their psychic link.

These were humans touched by infernal heritage, descendants of mortals who had made pacts with devils in ages past. Their bloodline carried a curse, causing their children to manifest demonic traits at random. Unlike true cambions, however, these beings kept their humanity. They possessed neither inherent evil nor corruption.

Their strange appearance had made them outcasts in most civilised lands. Forming refugee caravans, they had journeyed toward Baldur's Gate seeking sanctuary. Upon reaching the Emerald Grove, they had met gnoll packs and Githyanki patrols, suffering heavy losses. Halsin, moved by compassion, had offered them shelter among the druids.

The Emperor weighed their value. Desperate people often made the most loyal soldiers when offered a genuine purpose and protection.

"Human variants," He murmured, His voice carrying the authority of one who had shaped the destiny of a species. "They may join our forces. Grant them sanctuary under Our protection."

"Your wisdom illuminates all of Toril, great lord," Halsin said, bowing deeply. "Your mercy shall be remembered in the songs of both grove and refugee alike."

After receiving confirmation, Halsin departed to return to the Emerald Grove, where tensions had reached breaking point during his absence.

In the druid's absence, a female druid named Kahga had taken temporary leadership. Unlike Halsin, she viewed the Tiefling refugees as unwelcome burdens who threatened the grove's safety. Her solution was simple: expel the refugees, seal the grove's borders, and cut themselves off from all outside threats.

The Tieflings found themselves trapped. They had no wish to remain as unwanted guests, yet the wilderness beyond offered only death. Goblin raiders prowled the roads, while the dreaded Githyanki, space-faring pirates whose cruelty was legend, patrolled from their dragon mounts above.

Worse still were the mind flayer survivors from the crashed nautiloid, their heads carrying the tadpoles that would soon transform them into tentacled horrors.

The refugees possessed little strength to defend themselves, mostly elderly folk, women, and children, with only a handful of trained fighters among them. Cast out into such dangers, perhaps one in ten might reach Baldur's Gate alive, and even that would require divine intervention.

Halsin's return brought salvation to this grim situation.

"You have abandoned the Druid's Way," he declared to Kahga, his normally gentle voice hard with authority. "You would cast innocents to the wolves. Leave this grove, you are no longer welcome here."

After removing the wayward druid from power, Halsin approached Zevlor, the Tiefling leader and former Hellrider paladin who commanded what remained of their fighting strength.

"I offer you and your people something greater than mere survival," Halsin said. "Join the Emperor's forces. Find purpose in His service."

Zevlor's scarred face showed careful thought. "We know nothing of this Emperor you serve. How can I trust the lives of my people to a stranger?"

"Even if you reach Baldur's Gate, what then?" Halsin countered.

"The city may preach acceptance, but it practices rejection just as readily. Competition for work, for housing, for simple acceptance, all are fierce. Your people would struggle as outsiders in a city that barely tolerates their presence."

Only after long persuasion did Zevlor finally agree, though with careful conditions. He would not bring his entire community immediately.

Instead, he selected the strongest among them, those capable of bearing arms and enduring the hardships of war. Only after witnessing The Emperor's true acceptance of Tiefling-kind would he risk bringing the elderly, the children, and the vulnerable.

Meanwhile, with the assault on Moonrise Tower confirmed, the Emperor commanded His forces to forge weapons and gather supplies. Every blade would be sharpened, every bolt counted, every provision secured. The Absolute's stronghold would fall in a single, devastating strike.

As night fell over the camp, Shadowheart gave in to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep. The half-elf cleric served Shar, the Mistress of Night, with unwavering devotion.

Her presence aboard the doomed nautiloid had been no accident; she and her companions had undertaken a sacred mission to transport a powerful artefact to her order's sanctuary in Baldur's Gate. Success would earn Shar's blessing and restore the memories that had been torn from Shadowheart's mind.

Cruel fate had claimed her companions one by one, leaving her the sole survivor of their holy quest. The artifact she guarded, a mysterious relic she let none touch, remained her sole connection to purpose and identity.

As Shadowheart slept, the artifact began to pulse with ethereal light. In defiance of all physical law, it vanished from her possession and appeared before The Emperor.

Brilliant light erupted from the relic's surface, engulfing the Master of Mankind in its radiance. The Emperor offered no resistance, allowing the artifact to draw His consciousness within.

When reality reasserted itself, the Emperor found himself standing within a realm of shifting, prismatic light where colours flowed like liquid across impossible geometries.

"The Astral Plane," Raven's voice echoed through their psychic connection. "It seems someone extends an invitation, my lord."

A mind flayer drifted into view, its tentacles writhing with nervous energy. "Welcome to the Prism, outsider. I am the Emperor, the master of this realm."

The creature's attempt at introduction died as it met the true Emperor's gaze. "I seek cooperation in eliminating, "

"Xenos filth."

The Master of Mankind's will lashed out like a psychic storm. Invisible force seized the mind flayer's throat, lifting the aberration from the crystalline floor as easily as a child might grasp a toy.

"Wait! I possess vital information, knowledge you require!"

The mind flayer's plea fell on deaf ears. This false emperor had not expected to face one whose will could reshape reality itself, one who would grant no quarter to the enemies of mankind.

"Deliver your words to the warp," The Emperor said, golden flames kindling in His ancient eyes.

Psychic fire invaded the creature's mind, ripping through memories like parchment before flame. The mind flayer's death-shriek echoed through the Prism as The Emperor consumed everything the aberration had ever known, ever experienced, ever schemed.

When the assault on its consciousness ended, psychic flame consumed the mind flayer's physical form. Within moments, nothing remained but ash drifting through the astral currents.

"How tragic," Raven observed with mock sadness. "The scheming 'Emperor' reduced to dust. I shall mourn him for exactly three seconds."

Through their shared connection, Raven absorbed the stolen memories alongside his master. The creature's history unfolded like a cautionary tale.

This mind flayer had once been Balduran, legendary explorer and co-founder of the great city that bore his name. Driven by mortal ambition and hunger for immortality, he had ventured into forbidden ruins only to fall prey to a mind flayer colony.

They had transformed him, stripped away his humanity, and made him their thrall. Only when tasked with securing the Prism had he regained fragments of his former self. With that awareness came rebellion, the desire to resist the Elder Brain's absolute rule and claim freedom from the Supreme Absolute's influence.

The Prism itself served as both artifact and prison. Within its crystalline depths lay Orpheus, son of the first Githyanki Queen. That legendary monarch had possessed the rare ability to disrupt the Elder Brain's psychic control, granting her people the chance to rebel against their mind flayer overlords.

She had led the Githyanki to freedom, then forged an alliance with Tiamat, the Dragon Queen herself, to strengthen her people's position among the planes.

But the first Queen had never returned from that distant negotiation. Her lieutenant, Vlaakith, had returned bearing Tiamat's signed compact and promptly seized power for herself.

The second Queen had imprisoned Orpheus, whose inherited abilities posed a threat to her rule, and twisted him into a tool for her own purposes.

The Emperor's will pressed against the psychic barriers containing Orpheus, but rather than liberation, He wove additional seals into the prison's structure. Let the githyanki prince remain bound. Furthermore, the Emperor implanted a failsafe within the artefact's matrix; should the device ever threaten humanity's interests, it would destroy itself and its contents.

The githyanki posed no less a threat to mankind than the mind flayers. Both xenos breeds would serve humanity best by bleeding each other dry in endless conflict, weakening themselves until the ascendant human race could sweep away their remnants entirely.

Across all the heavens and infinite realities, only one species deserved dominion: humanity.

Withdrawing His consciousness from the Prism, The Emperor made no display of His actions. The artifact reappeared beside the sleeping Shadowheart as though it had never departed.

He required no such trinkets or tools. Yet this device might prove useful when the proper moment arrives.

After days of preparation, The Emperor initiated the first phase of His grand design: the conquest of Moonrise Tower and the complete eradication of the Absolute's cult.

Each Primarch would lead their forces along separate routes, converging on the target while cutting off all possible escape paths. The plan was elegant in its simplicity and devastating in its thoroughness.

The Primarchs were instruments of war given form and purpose. Medieval campaigns posed no challenge to beings who had conquered star systems and broken the backs of galactic empires.

Underdark horrors, grey dwarf raiders, githyanki dragon cavalry, all would fall like wheat before the scythe.

Perturabo's advance proved the swiftest, his tactical genius married to ruthless efficiency. The githyanki who dared oppose his march were systematically slaughtered, their vaunted dragon mounts shot from the sky by precisely coordinated fire. The Iron Warriors converted the fallen wyrms into field rations while mounting their severed heads on spears as roadside warnings to any who might harbour thoughts of resistance.

Moonrise Tower stood within the shadow-cursed depths of the Underdark, its stones steeped in madness-inducing darkness. This supernatural blight corrupted the minds of those it touched, driving them to murderous insanity and eventual transformation into mindless killing beasts.

To bypass this obstacle, Perturabo employed his considerable charisma to recruit local allies, members of the Harper network who possessed knowledge of the curse's nature.

Among them was Isobel, a cleric whose divine connection to Selûne, the Moonmaiden, protected against the shadow's influence.

Her blessing fell upon Perturabo's warriors like silver moonlight, allowing them to march through the cursed lands without fear of corruption. The Iron Legion advanced steadily toward their objective, their purpose unwavering.

Moonrise Tower loomed before them, a fortress of black stone bristling with defensive spires, its walls crawling with Absolute cultists who had made it their stronghold.

As Perturabo surveyed the fortification and calculated assault vectors, his brothers arrived with their own forces. Mortarion's Death Guard emerged from the plagued village route, their armor still steaming with toxic residue. Lorgar's Word Bearers advanced from the Underdark depths, their weapons dripping with the blood of grey dwarf defenders.

The carnage along each route had been absolute. Rivers of enemy blood marked their passage, and the screams of the dying had echoed through tunnel and forest alike.

When the Emperor and Raven materialised at the convergence point, the siege of Moonrise Tower was already underway.

After a brief tactical consultation, the three Primarchs deployed locally sourced explosives to breach the tower's massive walls. Stone and mortar erupted skyward as the fortress's defences crumbled. The combined legions surged through the gaps, fighting floor by floor toward the tower's apex.

"You will suffer for this foolishness!"

General Ketheric Thorm, chosen champion of the Absolute and bearer of an immortal curse, raged as the Primarchs carved through his defenders. Decades of careful planning, countless schemes woven in shadow, all lay in ruins before these transhuman destroyers.

His fury would serve him nothing. The Emperor's will had been set in motion, and nothing in this realm possessed the power to stay His hand.

[End of Chapter]

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