"The Baths of Gereliana, what a beautiful place that was," Moiran said, confidently striding towards his destiny, looking around at the monstrous baths of the Rangdans.
There were a lot of mortals concentrated in the capital of Gereliana-4. All this forced the construction of an entire hive city. This was done to simplify the defense, because in case of an attack, the defenders concentrated their forces not all over the planet, but around strategic objects and a network of fortresses. Of course, the hive city itself was a kind of fortress.
However, there were also downsides. Diseases spread at a monstrous speed, there were entire neighborhoods where the forces of order were afraid to go, and in general it was impossible to control every corner. The government sometimes did not even know what was happening at the very bottom of the hive. Life was not a bed of roses either, and the slaves never saw the sun.
Literally never, because here slaves were bred for work, they were born and died in the darkness of ancient archives, warehouses and factories. After all, although Rangda was technologically developed, but manual labor with this approach turned out to be much more effective. More effective due to the cheapness. Well, and high-precision production, of course, was already full of robots, which were repaired and created by citizens.
In any case, there were at least four slaves per free citizen, and Moiran's personal calculations indicated that the number could be twice as many. However, what was his surprise when, upon arriving at these baths, Moiran saw slaves without collars. They were armed and stood side by side with the seemingly tyrants, wanting to stop the invaders. Why did they not want to take revenge?
The baths themselves became the answer, because on Gerelian-4 more than half of the slaves... they lived quite a decent life, sometimes even better than the average free citizen of the Imperium. They cleaned officers' quarters, taught Rangdan children to read and write, were nannies and looked after the disabled. Each Rangdan, even a not very rich one who owned one coffee shop, had about three personal slaves, with whom he was surprisingly close.
It could be just a servant with whom the xenophile had fun, having lost all hope of finding a worthy partner. Or it could be a competent accountant helping to mow down tax fines. In fact, such slaves became part of the family, because without them, the functioning of the Rangdans became impossible. All this led to the fact that such slaves were treated much better than nameless cattle dying in the mines. And the slaves themselves understood that their fate was not so bad, and the collars... the collars were eventually removed and all that remained of slavery was the formal status and rights of a free person, which the free person did not use.
These baths became a kind of main attraction of Hereliana, because both free people and slaves were allowed here. At the same time and without strict division into statuses. In addition, slaves washed here absolutely free of charge, which allowed them to spend their personal money on other pleasant little things.
The thermae were unable to put up a worthy resistance, but despite everything, Moiran refused to massacre and destroy this creation. He had already given the order to study this structure. After the victory over Rangda, each hive world should receive a similar structure, this will significantly increase the standard of living of the population and reduce the risk of epidemics.
"Rangda is a worthy enemy, we must learn from him too," Moiran said out loud, sitting down on a stone slab in the center of the main hall, where hot springs stretched to the horizon, and high ceilings and lamps created an artificial day and night. "A wonderful place and surprisingly, even a slave can do something like this."
"I absolutely agree with you," whispered the lying amulet on his chest.
"And what feelings these ancient walls conveyed," said the sword, seeing the other side of these baths, where the moral decay of Rangda was progressing much faster than in other places.
- Commander-in-Chief, - one of the generals approached Moiran, who commanded the Imperial Army almost at the front, constantly moving his headquarters forward, not allowing the front line to make him a rear rat. - The enemy is isolated and hiding in underground fortifications. The cleansing is in full swing. Thanks to your poisonous fog, we will do it practically without losses.
- Well done, well done. You fought well, General. It was an honor to fight alongside you. If only the other Legions would swallow their pride and use your forces more actively... then the Crusade would be over already. But for now, it's mostly just the Astartes fighting on the front lines. With the exception of the war with Rangda, and conflicts where everything can't be decided in one blow.
"It is an honor for me," the general nodded and was about to leave, but was stopped by the primarch.
- Take a break, leave some glory for others.
Moiran was in seventh heaven, already anticipating a meeting with the Emperor. With such a small force, the Fatebringers had effectively won the war with Rangda. Of course, there was still Taskala ahead, for which the Rangdans would fight even more desperately. However, this blow was a turning point. In addition, Moiran managed to find the secret and completely subjugate the dark artefacts. He also compiled a list of other chosen ones, on the basis of which new warp lords could be created. And then teach this to others.
Everyone was so afraid of the warp, terrified of the stories of Malcador and the Emperor. Some of Moiran's brothers rejected psykers entirely and had no Librarians in their Legions. They were afraid of what they could not understand. Admittedly, Moiran always thought that Magnus the Red would be the first to succeed in this direction, but he still saw the warp as... a temple, while Moiran saw it as a workshop.
And so this day of triumph for the Legion, which was always the last, came. At last they could give the Imperium what no other Legion could give.
"Lancelot!" exclaimed Moiran, seeing the mighty Knight, battered but otherwise alive. "Was the last battle difficult?"
"Not easy," Lancelot agreed, carefully driving his car between the hiding slaves and the townspeople of Hereliana, who now looked upon the invaders as gods.
The Fatebringers never had titans or knights at their disposal, nor any special equipment in general. In this regard, it was difficult to compete with the same Dark Angels in capturing worlds. However, after the unification with Camelot, everything changed. Then, true, there was a series of failures, but here again the black streak was replaced by a white one. And turning his head to the left, Moiran saw his old friend.
"The planet is cleared, the wounded are already being helped. Engineers are clearing the rubble," the second company commander reported, asking a question with his gaze.
"Of course, now we have time," Moiran nodded and waved his hand at Tyukhe, who wanted to take revenge in the game of regicide.
*
The plague cloud covered the entire capital of Gereliana-4 and already moving towards it I began to feel the familiar presence of Nurgle. The air seemed to corrode even metal, which is why even the space marines could not stay in this zone for too long. The most durable gas masks of the Imperial Army failed within an hour and only the advanced filters of the equipment allowed them to somehow conduct combat operations against the remnants of the half-dead defenders.
The great and ancient city lay in ruins, ablaze at the top of the hive and choking on the stench of plague below. After a series of sabotages and the destruction of ventilation and filtration systems, the city fell to its knees before Moiran, who used dark power to crush the enemy. But as I advanced further in my Knight, I watched in horror at the cost of this victory.
The mutilated bodies of the Imperial Army soldiers lay everywhere, already beginning to rot. Their necks were in a terrible state, as in their death throes the soldiers had scratched them almost to the arteries. Gas masks covered in acrid condensation seemed to have melted, which indicated an extremely high concentration of this dangerous gas at the time of the main battle.
Having reunited with the last reserves, we moved together. The concentration of gas, although falling, remained quite high. For this reason, more and more soldiers fell behind me, and the last space marines tried to reanimate the previously destroyed ventilation system. It didn't work out so well, and only the crystal protected me from a painful death.
At some point, the great baths appeared. Around these baths there was such a dense cloud of gas that visibility fell to arm's length. Moving more by touch and magical sense, I continued to search for Moiran, realizing that somewhere in the epicenter of the most terrible hell was his dying body.
Along the way I began to meet even space marines, whose armor was also being eaten away by Nurgle's power. Their bodies were already beginning to move and to avoid something terrible, I carefully destroyed their bodies with a plasma spear. The gas cloud did not like this, just as I began to feel an unpleasant gaze on myself, but retreat was impossible.
And so, having come out into one of the spacious halls, I was paralyzed by the sight I saw. Tens of thousands of corpses covered the entire floor and brown blood filled all the pools where mutated flesh was floating. But what was most terrible was that most of the corpses clearly did not belong to the military. They had no armor, weapons, as in general most of them were simple slaves, mostly old people, women, children... these were all those who could not fight and hid in this place. After all, the baths were in a fairly protected place and were equipped as bomb shelters.
In the very center sat Moiran, completely covered in blood and the remains of his comrades. He muttered something under his breath and did not pay attention to the moving biomass that had once been the Imperial warriors who had gone into the final battle with the Primarch. They had all perished in that battle, but it was not the Rangdan's laser that was the cause of it, but Moiran himself, who had lost control over both the artefacts and his own body, mind and soul.
- I always knew that I was different, special. The Emperor, for obvious reasons, did not want to allow us to confront the warp. He is a good father and a wise ruler. However, I correctly assessed my strength, knew what I was up against, clearly understood what I was doing and followed the plan, as a last resort I asked my brother for one last favor. I calculated everything, because I am different from those foolish sorcerers. I just had to do everything right... - Moiran grumbled, and then began some small talk with the ghosts that only he could see.
"Moiran," a voice came from the Knight's speakers, but there was no reaction to it and I took a step.
- Stop! Don't go near him, it's dangerous! - the Bird immediately chirped, not losing her composure this time, because she drew strength from Tzeentch's permission and was not pressed by the power of the Dark Prince himself. - Can't you see? They have already taken possession of his soul.
"But why?" I asked an extremely stupid question, which was answered with laughter.
"The fool took the power we extended to him, it would have been better if he had remained with what he had," came a whisper that was drowned out by the gurgling of the cauldron.
"His arrogance was amusing, as was his striving for perfection, the essence of which the fool could not understand," the voice of ecstasy added with slight displeasure, dissatisfied with the fact that it had not managed to take away the right to speak first.
"The self-confidence and anger in him burned like a bright fire at the moment of our meeting, but still he was weak in both soul and body," the third voice spoke quietly, but even from this the entire planet shuddered, and the veil of rage forced several battalions fighting the spawn of the warp to rush with bayonets.
- But the main thing... - drawled the fourth voice, already sounding inside me. - He, like all the others, decided to play the game without knowing the rules. And here is the result. Soon he will fly here and see everything for himself, and we... we will enjoy every moment of the game, where he has long been in a position of zugzwang, from the very moment when pride and ambition eclipsed his vision.
They were not speaking of Moiran, that much was clear from Tzeentch's words. And that only fueled my fear. Moiran was a pawn and a puppet in their game, or rather a tool to force the Emperor to face true helplessness. And if he dared to leave any sentimentality inside his soul, then the spectacle would be even more exciting. They wanted to see him cry.
However, the dark gods had their main bet on something else. After all, they did not dare to underestimate the Emperor because of the harsh pressure of Tzeentch. Therefore, the calculation was that something like this would shake the stability inside the Emperor's soul, inside his entourage, and also inside the primarchs themselves. The heresy had already been designed and only a catalyst was needed, something that would make the huge structure move, and the sawed-off supports would already become the cause of a crushing defeat.
The scale of the incomprehensible, but all-encompassing and imminent catastrophe was crushing me, trying to break me. I had to do something, try to attack Moiran and free his soul from torment, or somehow bring the primarch who had fallen into darkness to his senses. But the probability of success for both options was approaching zero, which I understood, feeling how humility made even the servos of the Knight creak, slowly kneeling before the darkness.
"What the hell is this…" I hissed helplessly, tearing the crystal shell.
But suddenly the crystal was beyond my control and became incredibly strong. Tzeentch did not want me to escape, he wanted complete submission and confidence in his power. For him, this was a show, one of billions that entertained him at this moment.
The bird immediately joined in and began to smash the crystal with its beak, while my prosthetic arm was deformed with a crack from the merciless blows. With my right hand, I grabbed a stub-revolver and tore the last shackles apart with shots to my own legs. Of course, all this did not go without wounds, but the Machine was completely absorbed by chaos and the cogitators finally went crazy, producing sheets of garbage code, because even the computing systems could not resist the warp. Therefore, it was better to even cut off my legs, just not to remain in the epicenter of the dark forces, because I had no chance of withstanding this.
Jumping straight off the Knight, I did an awkward somersault as I fell and, ignoring the dislocation, rushed to the exit.
"Moiran is possessed! I repeat, Moiran is possessed!" I shouted into the sepulchral silence of the vox-transmitter.
The forces of the warp chased me, raising whirlwinds of magic that carried the laughter of dark gods. They did not need to kill me quickly, because nothing depended on my survival, just as nothing depended on Moiran's survival. No matter what happened, they would still be the winners, because the very nature of mortals determined their victory. As long as we existed, so would they. They could not be defeated, it was simply impossible, because when you shot at them, you still hit yourself.
Having run out to the edge of the thermae, I looked at the positions where our forces should have already secured themselves. But before me appeared only corpses, killed by a single magical impulse. Without any effort, Slaanesh took their souls, because it cost her nothing. At the same moment, the spawn of the warp began to approach me from different sides.
Walking slowly and emitting a pestilential stench, they were also in no hurry, for they liked my despair. The will of Tzeentch also disappeared, disappointed in Mordred, who refused such a generous offer.
"I need servants too," came a good-natured voice, drawing my mind into the embrace of submissive humility.
- I repeat, Moiran is possessed! He has killed everyone and has fallen completely into the arms of the warp! Open fire from orbit and turn everything into burning ruins! - I continued to shout, firing my revolver into the countless horde.
And now there was the last bullet left. The Horde was getting closer and I realized that they weren't going to just kill me. I swallowed and put the barrel to my temple. Yes, maybe it wouldn't affect anything, because after death the soul went to the warp and Slaanesh was probably waiting for it there. Tzeentch wasn't planning on helping either. But it was better to try to do something than to fall into the clutches of Nurgle.
Suddenly, my hand began to tremble treacherously.
"Bitch…" I hissed, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes.
Pulling the trigger was incredibly difficult, my entire body and organism turned against me. Primal instincts, the unconscious part of the brain, hormones - everything prevented me from doing one simple thing. Just pulling the trigger. And yet, at some point, the fear of the plague horde and the unenviable fate became incredibly strong. Everything should have ended like this, but the blow was dealt from an unexpected side.
Mordred did not want to die. He was very afraid of death and the fate of the plague monster appealed to him more than suicide and a leap into the unknown that would bring death. And I simply could not fight with myself, and with my body, and with Mordred at the same time.
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