According to legend, the master of the Imperium of Man possessed countless powerful weapons. In his private armory, terrifying divine armaments capable of destroying kingdoms and planets were as numerous as the stars in the sky.
At certain times, the Lord of Mankind would select suitable beings from these most powerful weapons and bestow them upon exceptional individuals who could wield their power and earn his trust; the latter was often several times more difficult than the former.
Over countless ages, such endowments might have occurred many times, and countless heroes, including the Lord of Death Whispers of the XIV Legion Astartes, had enjoyed such glory. Yet, among these few, truly known and sung about were even fewer. Among these few examples, the most famous were undoubtedly the two Spears of the Gods.
The Spear of the Sun God was ceaselessly gripped in the unyielding hand of Valdor, Chief of the Custodian Guard. This powerful weapon, asserting its might in the name of the Sun God, allowed the Chief Custodian to see the memories in the mind of every opponent he killed: be it humiliation, pain, or beauty.
All the myriad sins and emotions of the world, accompanied by slaughter, washed over Valdor's spirit again and again, allowing him to become the purest, breathing blade, wielded only for the Emperor, while not truly losing all his humanity.
The other powerful weapon, independent of the Spear of the Sun God yet reflecting its brilliance, was the Spear of the Wine God, Leman Russ's, the King of Fenris and the Space Wolves, most powerful and hated weapon, only deployed to the most urgent battlefields when absolutely necessary.
This divine weapon also possessed its own formidable power: whenever the drunken Wolf Lord tore through his foolish facade, revealing his brutal and cunning fangs, accompanied by his ferocious,
unfailing hunt, every opponent and monarch wounded by the Spear of the Wine God, no matter how powerful, how ruthless, or how depraved, would involuntarily fall into the torment of memory and sobriety, confronting the most vulnerable part of their inner self, returning to their original state.
In many instances, this was even more terrifying a punishment than death. And the blade in Leman Russ's hand, inherited in the name of Dionysus from ancient myths, further contained power directly from the Lord of Mankind himself, allowing such a dreadful torment to descend upon every wounded opponent, no matter how mighty.
No matter how resolute.
Even a god, a weak god-seed walking the mortal realm, not yet awakened to its true self, could absolutely not escape.
——————
When Skanderbeg, riding the first wave of drop pods, slammed into this steel world already enveloped by blood and death, it felt a long-lost emotion, an emotion that hadn't appeared in its massive heart for at least five hundred years.
No, calm down.
Find the Liege.
It's not over yet.
The Emperor is still here… the Imperium will never meet its end.
Stay calm!
It commanded itself thus, urging itself on. On its grotesque head, unprotected by a helmet, a pair of dark and crimson eyes rapidly swept across the desolate battlefield ruins, and in the next breath, located its Liege.
Without any hesitation, Skanderbeg transformed into a black lightning bolt, arriving behind its Liege. And behind it, more and more forces were rushing in.
That figure, the figure it had sworn to follow and be loyal to until the end of time centuries ago, stood there.
Skanderbeg walked behind the Emperor of its race, feeling a touch of ancient memory: a thousand years ago, it stood in this very posture on the highest peak of its homeworld, listening to the Emperor's oath and making its own.
That was a long time ago, yet in these hundreds of years of loyalty and war, it had never repeated that oath.
A true oath only needed to be spoken solemnly once.
"My Liege."
It bowed its head, addressing respectfully.
Before it, its Liege, the Emperor of Randeng, did not respond. It merely looked indifferently at the now irredeemable Engine of Destiny, indifferently watching endless tormented souls pour out of that cage, yet unable to escape far due to the terrifying machine's almost unsolvable binding power: they couldn't escape, but they also couldn't be used.
Souls, those souls, souls born and corrupted in endless pain and distortion, they thronged together, unstoppable. Their sheer number brought absolute power, capable of easily crushing any arrogant monarch or kingdom.
Even the most greedy, despicable, and malicious Spider Queen wouldn't dare to recklessly attempt to swallow such a potent delicacy without thorough preparation, for such immense power, while capable of making her strong enough to face any kin, also held the possibility of tearing her apart completely.
But now, facing another powerful being, facing the Emperor of Randeng, they could do nothing: they suffered, they roared, they uttered endless vicious curses and insults with the dry screams of their souls. They rushed out of the visible cage only to be trapped in a new one. They charged in rage towards the Xenos monarch, yet hesitated before its power and aura.
The Emperor of the Xenos didn't even bother to glance at them. It merely watched in silence as its hope, its life's work, was now nothing but a shattered husk. It watched it, remaining silent for a long time.
Skanderbeg bowed its head, waiting for its Liege's command and words for a very long time.
Until, it heard an old sigh.
——————
[We have failed.]
[Skanderbeg, we have failed.]
[The defiance against the gods was but a struggle leading to self-destruction, and the quest for destiny was but a preordained comedy. Thousands upon thousands of golden thrones lay broken, narrating the fate of every challenger.]
[But even so, even with such ridiculousness and sorrow, merely the possibility of initiating this challenge is the most precious treasure in the void, a priceless gem that millions of races, empires, and civilizations fight to the death to contend for.]
[Every era, every cycle of rise and fall, is destined to have only one victor. He will gain everything, he will control the galaxy, he will possess the qualification and possibility to challenge and gamble with those beings in the deepest parts of the void, and die holding solemn promises and beautiful expectations for his race.]
[This is our mission, our sole purpose for being born into this world.]
[But now, I have failed.]
[Skanderbeg.]
[I failed to win the right to this challenge for my people. We fell in the first round of this cruel game. We lost all possibilities concerning the future: we once had them, however small.]
[But now, they are gone.]
[I only see darkness.]
——————
The words of the Xenos Overlord were ancient, like an ordinary old man, speaking with a trembling voice of his deepest regret.
Upon hearing this, Skanderbeg, the master of Randeng Empire's mightiest military, a legendary figure unbeaten for a thousand years, the most trusted blade of the Randeng Emperor, finally raised its head.
The Emperor, its Liege, was so tall, so beautiful. Even the most skilled artists the Randeng Empire could find could not carve a ten-thousandth of its magnificent face.
In Skanderbeg's memory, everything should have been so. But what it saw was merely a withered figure, an ordinary, small being, one that even the lowliest Randeng slave would be taller and stronger than: this was the Emperor of Randeng.
Every Randeng warrior knew that when they looked at their Emperor, they would only see the greatest warrior, the greatest commander, the most valiant god: they would only see the most perfect image in their hearts, the embodiment of all truth and righteousness in the world.
But that was just an illusion.
Skanderbeg knew, only Skanderbeg knew, that its Liege was this hunched figure in its eyes. It had once been tall, once magnificent, once more majestic and valiant than all the most boastful warriors combined.
Until that day, it made its choice. It shouldered the Empire, civilization, and race.
The once burning blood had now transformed into fleets as vast as the sea, the once valiant aura had transformed into armies fighting to the death. Its hair and face had withered, falling to the ground, watering countless fluttering banners that planted the Empire's territory across half the galaxy.
This was its Liege.
The Emperor of Randeng.
Skanderbeg raised its head.
It looked at its Liege, its only master, and spoke, forcing the trembling lips to utter words.
"But… but, my Liege."
"This is impossible."
"You are still here, you are still leading us, leading the Empire. We cannot lose victory and hope."
"We still have more legions! We still have more fleets! We have hundreds of millions of warriors and tens of billions of subjects, every one of whom will die for you, will forever follow in your footsteps, until the end of time!"
"You have not fallen! My Liege! Then the Empire has not fallen!"
"You are the Empire!"
[...]
Its answer was only silence.
[I was never the Empire, Skanderbeg, my dearest friend.]
[I cannot represent the Empire, I cannot represent my people, I cannot represent even the most ordinary Randeng. All I have done is appear before them and make them promises, promises concerning the stars and the future.]
[They believed me, they chose me. Only then did our cause stand tall on countless worlds, establishing this great yet bloody nation.]
[But this does not mean I can represent anyone. Yes, my command can make every soldier leave their families, turn every piece of steel into a battleship, and ensure every child and bloodline receives relevant education from a young age, becoming the most ruthless and fanatical killers.]
[But, that is all.]
[This is my task.]
[My responsibility.]
[My choice.]
[My promise.]
[But never, my power.]
[I do not have such power. No one can possess such power: if someone truly could, that would only mean my dreams and plans have utterly failed, reduced to worthless rubbish.]
The Emperor of Randeng looked at its most trusted subordinate. After a long while, it slowly turned its head. Above them, the war continued: human fleets had forced the Randeng military from Taks-5,
allowing them to indiscriminately slaughter the Randeng landing forces left on the surface. Yet, the Xenos army, stalled in the void, remained an unconquerable number, a number that forced Lion El'Jonson to consider withdrawal.
But now, at this moment, these matters had no relation to the Randeng Emperor.
It merely gazed at the Engine of Destiny, now devoid of any possibility, murmuring.
[This is the Randeng Empire.]
[Not the Emperor's Empire.]
——————
[They believed me, Skanderbeg. They chose to believe me, and have done so for a thousand years, supporting all my decisions, whatever they may be.]
It stepped forward, heavily striking the artifact's shell.
[Even its gamble.]
[The most desperate gamble.]
[A gamble for survival.]
——————
[I deceived everyone, Skanderbeg.]
[From the moment this war became a stalemate, we had no chance of victory. We were doomed to lose.]
[All I did was a desperate gamble. I gambled that this transaction with the Immaterium, these countless massacres and resentments, could yield a truly powerful war armament, capable of protecting us as we broke through the enemy's layers of obstruction and reached that place.]
[Holy Terra.]
It closed its eyes, remaining silent for a long time.
——————
[It's all over, Skanderbeg.]
[That human, that cold-blooded creature named Mengel, he was right.]
[Give the order. Disperse all subsequent fleets, let those conscripted fleets withdraw from the battle sequence.]
[Tell them.]
[Flee for your lives.]
[Flee, flee at all costs. Even if it means fleeing back to our homeworld, do not linger for a single moment. Flee, flee to the galaxy's darkest edge, escape humanity's pursuit and endless retribution.]
[Then…]
[Live.]
[Live in this most terrifying era ruled by the most terrifying race.]
The Xenos Overlord issued its commands word by word. And, rarely, or perhaps for the only time, Skanderbeg raised its head.
"My Liege, this…"
[Execute it.]
[For my promise, my lie, and my gamble, they have already shed all their blood and tears, sacrificed everything they had and all their hope.]
[I have failed.]
[I have dragged them down.]
[I cannot, will not, and have no right to ask them to do more.]
[As I said, from the beginning, I never had that power.]
——————
A deathly silence lingered for a long time, like the brief yet drawn-out echo before death.
"Is there really… no other way, my Liege? Can even your wisdom not conceive of any solution?"
[This was already the last resort, Skanderbeg.]
The Xenos Overlord caressed the increasingly broken Engine of Destiny, murmuring.
[Compared to humanity, we are still too weak.]
[Yes, my friend, I do have one more way.]
[These souls have not yet dissipated. They still possess immense power. If we can trap them and make them attach to a brand new vessel, we still have a possibility to continue this crusade.]
[Until Holy Terra.]
[Or utter annihilation.]
The light of hope flickered in Skanderbeg's eyes for just a moment, then plunged into something called astonishment and despair.
It thought of something.
"My Liege… you…"
[Yes, my friend.]
The Xenos Overlord turned its head, revealing a smile to its companion, a smile that could not be refused.
[We only have one choice, don't we?]
[This is, at least… the last thing I can do for my race.]
Skanderbeg wanted to wail, to rush forward and stop it, to do anything: but it could do nothing.
It could only watch as its Liege, its Emperor, its everything, steadily took steps, walking towards the most terrifying cage, torture, torment, and despair in the entire galaxy.
The Emperor.
Without any hesitation.
It arrived there, then walked inside. Innumerable souls rushed over in that instant, engulfing it.
Engulfing everything.
——————
[In this galaxy, there are as many kinds of suffering as there are stars, as many kinds of responsibility, and as many kinds of sacrifice.]
[Every race, when it desires to survive and grow among the stars, to fulfill its ambition and greed, must face these difficulties, one after another.]
[To experience, to endure, to overcome.]
[I am your Emperor. I am the one who led you, who chose this path, these sufferings.]
[I am an ambitious one.]
[I am a dreamer.]
[I am the burdened one.]
[I am wantonly arrogant.]
[I have achieved nothing.]
[And now, my friend, this is the only thing I can do.]
[When we face suffering, when we must make sacrifices, when we must choose a tragic figure to transform all hope, all despair, all responsibility, all future into a cage that can never be escaped, a yoke that can never be cast off.]
[Someone must bear it all.]
[And I, I will use the power you gave me, my only power, to guarantee one thing.]
[That person.]
[Can only be me.]
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