On a daemon world swallowed by the Warp, a planet fully assimilated by the Empyrean, the very rocks and soil had transmuted into a screaming slurry of flesh and bone. The sky blazed with a light as blinding as high noon, yet it was perversely counterpointed by a vista of shimmering, swirling star-clusters.
Grotesque warp-beasts used their talons to till this landscape like farmers, gouging through the meat-earth to unearth human hearts and eyeballs fused into the soil, devouring them like ripe fruit. These living crops shrieked in agony as they were harvested, yet they could not die. The warp-creatures simply stuffed the hollowed chest cavities with foul excrement, refuse, and jagged bone-shards before stitching them shut to await the next reaping.
No sane mortal could walk this world for more than a minute. Beyond the twisted entities lurking in every shadow, the sheer defiance of natural law in the scenery was enough to shatter the strongest mind, turning the observer into yet another piece of screaming vegetation.
Yet, treading upon this nightmare world was a small, human-shaped figure. Clad in a tattered black robe and clutching a staff of cured rat-skin, the figure moved with unhurried grace through the throng of daemons.
"Aah... what is that?"
The rasping query came from a maw situated on the neck of a daemon with a bloated torso and withered limbs. These unaligned Neverborn watched the robed figure with a mixture of mockery and curiosity.
"Come play... come play...!" A monstrosity stitched together from the halves of two young lovers, held in place by rusted nails and iron wire, lunged toward the figure like a shambling corpse, its dual voices harmonizing in a plea.
Slowly, more daemons congregated. They were morbidly fascinated by how this peculiar "man-thing" had manifested in their realm.
The robed figure tilted his head back, revealing a nondescript face under the hood. He appeared to be a human in his twenties, but where his eyes should have been, there were only twin voids, bottomless pits of absolute darkness.
The figure spoke a single word, whispered with terrifying nonchalance: "Begone."
In an instant, a colossal surge of psychic power washed over the daemon world. In the figure's immediate vicinity, countless warp-entities began to wail. From within their bodies, chittering rats of every hue gnawed their way out, devouring the filth-slicked flesh of their hosts from the inside.
These rats then stood on their hind legs in a mockery of human worship, their voices rising in a cacophony of every tongue in the galaxy—High Gothic, Aeldari, T'au, and Binary—to shriek in unison:
"The Great Bell tolls thirteen! The Great Horned Rat walks among us!"
The surviving daemons recoiled in pure terror as the towering shadow of a Great Horned Rat manifested behind the figure. Mockery turned to frantic dread.
"It is... the Vile One—"
"The Shadow of the Blighted Horn..."
The unaligned daemons whispered the titles of the nascent Chaos God, too terrified to utter His True Name.
Lucius ignored them. He looked around as if tired from a long walk, then crouched down like an ordinary mortal.
"Quite a magnificent game board, wouldn't you agree?" Lucius asked casually, addressing the head of a beautiful Aeldari woman whose body had been fused into a rotting tree beside him. Her consciousness remained intact—a twisted "blessing" or torment of the Warp; even Lucius did not know the origin of her plight.
"He-he-he... This is a 'fine child,' my dear. I do hope you like my arrangement~"
A voice of exquisite, agonizing beauty rang out. Lucius turned toward the sound.
Before him stood a woman of impossible perfection: white hair, violet eyes, a lithe silhouette, and skin as flawless as the finest porcelain. Though she offered no introduction, Lucius, having dealt with the Dark Prince before, recognized her instantly. This was Slaanesh. The Chaos Gods could assume whatever form they desired, and this was the mask the Prince had chosen.
Lucius narrowed his eyes and stood up. "It seems I have disrupted your 'arrangement,' Dark Prince. A bit rude for a newcomer, I suppose."
"He-he-he... Relax, relax, my dear~ A game is no fun if it's too serious" Slaanesh glided forward with the light, rhythmic step of a dancer, draping a slender arm over his shoulder. "You are truly fascinating. Do you know? Your arrival has left that 'Calculated One' both curious and stunned. He sent me to fetch you~ Though I must say, watching you linger at the threshold like a shy guest was quite adorable."
With a snap of the Prince's fingers, the daemon world vanished, replaced by a void of absolute darkness. Slaanesh's voice rang out: "Welcome to our playground, my dear. Not just 'anything' is worthy of entry~"
In the blackness, Lucius saw four figures seated around a void-table.
A massive, red-skinned brute with veins bulging on his forehead sat upon a throne of brass. He glared at Lucius, or rather, at the Slaanesh-mask beside him, and let out a guttural snarl: "Faggot!"
A withered, spindly middle-aged man sat next, looking refined and scholarly in a wizard's robe that shifted constantly between hues of blue, violet, and silver. He raised a hand in greeting. "Welcome, Vile God. Your emergence has shifted many destinies, and I am the Master of Destiny. He-he-he..."
Beside him, a jovial, bloated giant stood up, smiling warmly. "Oh, my friend! Come, sit! You have no idea how I've longed for a kindred spirit to join our revelries... to discuss those lovely, decaying little things... I mean the plagues. The rat-blight is quite beautiful~ You should be proud."
The final figure was different from the rest. He was a beautiful young boy clad in golden armor, his entire being wreathed in roaring golden flames. Behind him, a white-haired old man stood like a weary attendant.
The boy scrutinized Lucius, his voice youthful yet echoing with a deep, ancient resonance: "You should not have come, Son of Man, Shadow of the Horn."
Lucius had never met him, but that holy radiance was unmistakable. This was the Master of Mankind, the Emperor!
Does he see the human within me? Lucius felt a momentary pang of tension, then relaxed. He walked forward and took his place in the sixth, black-iron chair.
"And why not? Must I spend eternity struggling in the mud of the galaxy?" Lucius asked the Golden Child.
The Emperor remained silent for a moment before answering, "You are human. You were human. Do not abandon humanity."
Lucius held out his hand; countless souls of dead Skaven swirled within his palm. He grinned, baring his teeth. "No, Emperor... I am the Great Horned Rat. I am the Master of the Vermin."
The Emperor's lips parted as if to speak, but he ultimately turned his gaze away in silence.
"He-he-he, don't mind him. He's always like this," the jovial giant, Nurgle, chuckled. "He isn't 'whole' yet in this place. We've spent quite a bit of effort trying to get him to recognize his true self."
Only upon sitting did Lucius realize they were at a gargantuan round table. The invisible surface was shimmering with countless star-systems. It was not just the current galaxy, but a tapestry of all time and space. A casual glance showed Lucius the Necrontyr as living beings, launching their war against the Old Ones.
"Why invite me? I don't feel I've earned a seat at this table yet," Lucius asked, ignoring Nurgle's warmth and Slaanesh's allure.
"He-he-he, newcomers are always so modest~" Slaanesh laughed. "The 'you' of now may not be enough, but you are already the Sixth Horn. Do not forget, my dear~ If you are destined to be one of the Eight in the future, then you are so in the past, present, and future. It is unchangeable... regardless of whether you began as a stray thought, a roar of fury, or a human man."
Though Slaanesh's words were cryptic, Lucius understood the implication of eternal ascension.
"Exactly…" Tzeentch chirped. "You're much better than this one. This fool actually tried to stop time at the moment of his apotheosis just to deny the truth. A futile rebellion."
Lucius nodded. "So, what is the plan? I was quite enjoying the show on Vigilus."
"WORTHLESS!" Khorne roared suddenly, making Lucius jump. He could have sworn even the Emperor flinched slightly.
"Since you enjoy that boring little show, very well. Let that board serve as the welcome for our newcomer~" Slaanesh leaned back, her predatory gaze drifting between the Emperor and Lucius. "Our Master of Mankind is quite furious, you know. None of us dare tweak the tiger's whiskers alone. Come, set your pieces in the Nachmund Gauntlet. The winner shall receive a boon, a promise from the others, the terms of which they shall decide for themselves."
Lucius narrowed his eyes. What were the "pieces" of the Dark Gods? Souls, of course. He turned to the Emperor. "I'm in. What about you?"
Lucius knew the Emperor had his Legion of the Damned. Playing a round against him changed nothing, after all, the Skaven could afford to lose!
"Fine! I'll play with the Dark Mechanicum and Sneek's Shadow Legion in the Nachmund Gauntlet. If I lose, I withdraw from Vigilus. If I win, the rats within the territories of the Imperium shall no longer be bathed in your light!"
The weary old man behind the Emperor sighed and patted the Golden Child's back. The boy stood up, climbed onto the table, and declared:
"I AM THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND."
"Huh?" Lucius stared, his eyes widening as he watched the golden toddler standing on the table.