Tides of Chaos surged and flowed. In this realm of pure will, nothing was real; everything was a reflection of one's own volition or the influence of others. Only the Gods could shape this space according to their whims, yet their intentions often clashed.
In the countless eons of the past, no single god's will had ever truly surpassed another—even the mighty Blood God could not face more than two others at once, and even Tzeentch, with his crystal staff, could not withstand the combined will of the other three.
Yet now, there existed a being who occupied two domains by himself, becoming the preeminent among gods. His will saturated nearly half of the Warp, unrestrainedly shaping the Immaterium based on his own instincts and perceptions...
"I release the Daemonettes, Fiends, and Sybarites from my hand to Special Summon... Daemon Prince Sigvald the Magnificent."
The cards in Slaanesh's hand materialized into the actual Daemon Prince, landing on the chessboard. Clad in gold armor, holding a mirror shield and a longsword with a purple-red cloak fluttering behind him, he stood tall upon the battlefield.
"Skulltaker!"
Seated upon the Brass Throne, Khorne exhaled a breath of blood scented with sulfur. On the board, Skulltaker raised the Slayer Sword high, his cloak of skulls billowing as he led a squad of Bloodletters in a charge toward Sigvald.
Tzeentch, sitting nearby, chuckled. The dice in his hand rattled and shook, transforming into Fate itself as they merged into the board. Sigvald let out a disdainful snort, swung his blade, and cut down the lunging Bloodletters in the blink of an eye. He clashed with Skulltaker, securing an easy victory after just a few rounds.
Khorne let out a dissatisfied grunt and turned to glare at Tzeentch, who was busy toyed with destiny. Tzeentch smirked and waved a hand, signaling Be'lakor—who was acting as a servant for the four—to pour him a drink.
The currents of the Warp reflected in the wine, mirroring the most jagged shifts of fate: a rebellion breaking out on a planet, where a poor worker from the Underhive overthrew a governor who had ruled for a millennium.
The governor's young son fled to the Underhive and became a worker himself. Under Tzeentch's woven destiny, 999 years later, that son's descendant would overthrow the current governor—falling from the spires to the depths, rising from lowliness to nobility. This cycle of fate rippled in the cup, brewing into a flavor Tzeentch adored.
The Lord of Change downed it in one gulp.
Be'lakor held the tray and looked toward Nurgle. The Great Father waved him off with a smile, indicating he had brought his own "thick soup."
"Why isn't Old Zhou here yet?" Tzeentch said, pouting. "Wasn't this meeting his idea?"
As he spoke, Tzeentch glanced at the banner hanging in mid-air: "The First Senate and High Lords Council of the Warp."
It wasn't just the Four Gods; many minor entities were gathered here as well. Gork and Mork were brawling in a corner; Cegorach was trying to convince the Goddess Ta'va that he was actually a human god; Malice was whispering with the pilgrim Madail.
Even more shadowy, nameless existences lurked in the corners of the room, muttering softly. But the light from the ceiling only illuminated the Four Gods, as if the others were unworthy of being perceived or brought into the light.
This space was sketched by Alexander's perception. Because Alexander had a clear understanding of the Four Gods, they had distinct forms illuminated by the light. Gork and Mork, Cegorach, Ta'va... they were similar, but those weaker, less noteworthy entities were lumped into the darkness by Alexander's mind.
Alexander's perception was still that of a mortal.
Tzeentch understood this with absolute clarity. It was precisely because of this that He, Nurgle, Slaanesh, and Khorne appeared as such distinct, limited entities with finite forms and understandable language within Alexander's mind...
"You know, He is still different from us," Nurgle said, patting his belly with a chuckle. "He needs a little time to organize Himself."
"He limits Himself too much. Having such a vast existence yet confining it within the narrowness of a mortal—how painful," Tzeentch said with a hint of contempt. He could not understand why Alexander insisted on pretending to be human. The concept of an individual was too cramped. One should merge with the tides of the Warp and become one with the Aethyr.
"He ascended from mortality; it's natural to miss the clarity of being an 'individual,'" Nurgle replied warmly.
"That's exactly what makes no sense. Is a mortal a true individual? They are merely an aggregation of microscopic cells. Their thoughts are found in the connections of neurons and the hormones secreted by somatic cells. It is the complex chemical reactions of countless cellular individuals that produce their will."
Tzeentch's voice grew sharp. "Isn't our mode of generation similar? It is the intersection and reaction of countless emotions, thoughts, prayers, and beliefs that birthed our consciousness. We are simply far more vast than a mortal—that finite cluster of cells. If He truly pursued absolute individuality, He should have devolved into a single-celled organism."
To Tzeentch, Alexander's current behavior was more exaggerated than using a single cell's mind to drive a human body. He relied entirely on complex self-hypnosis, letting the various parts of Himself operate automatically to mobilize His vast power.
In this sense, Alexander was actually the most uncontrollable of the Gods. Many parts of Him were not under the control of His will but were merely operating automatically under hypnosis. If that hypnosis ever failed, He might attack the other four gods purely out of instinct.
A gale of Warp-wind carrying emotions and thoughts blew open the door. Alexander's figure emerged, wrapped in a hazy, bright, and searing light. The minor entities lurking in the shadows whimpered and retreated deeper into the dark.
Alexander held no malice toward them; He simply could not "perceive" them—and that alone was lethal and dangerous. To be treated as non-existent by a being as powerful as Alexander meant they truly could be erased.
Ta'va tried to retreat into the shadows in terror, but the entities there didn't dare let her in and shoved her back out. Cegorach greeted Alexander with a laugh, while Gork and Mork invited him to a brawl. Alexander smiled, greeted them, and politely declined the fight.
"You've wasted a lot of time," Tzeentch said, feigning annoyance.
"I had things to handle," Alexander replied, leaning over to watch Slaanesh and Khorne's game.
"Personal matters?" Tzeentch asked.
"Not entirely," Alexander shrugged, watching Khorne reverse the situation and tear through Slaanesh's line.
"The spawn of the Dark King escaped," Tzeentch stood up and faced Alexander directly. "The situation is urgent, yet you still limit yourself... why can't you show some spirit of self-sacrifice?"
"If you, or the three of them—any one of you—stepped into my pocket to be 'enlightened' by me, I'd have the confidence to solve the Dark King," Alexander said, looking up at Tzeentch.
Tzeentch immediately backed away, creating distance, and fell silent.
Alexander waved his hand; he knew Tzeentch wouldn't agree. None of them would. To the Gods, destroying themselves was more unacceptable than the Dark King destroying everyone. This was their nature.
They were the aggregation of everything in an entire domain. As long as the Dark King was far away, they showed self-destructive tendencies. But the closer the Dark King came to birth, the more they exhibited a desire to endure. They were desperate to continue their existences and would never sacrifice themselves for the world.
Even Alexander feared that if his will merged with his entire domain, he too would refuse to sacrifice...
"Have you searched the Daemon Worlds in your domains? Have you checked for secret cults leaning toward the Emperor or the Dark King?"
Alexander watched Khorne crush Slaanesh's legion. Slaanesh cursed under his breath then looked up. "I checked. Found nothing in my realm," Slaanesh said leisurely.
Slaanesh's current state was subtle. Alexander's "caesarean section" had wounded him deeply, but it had also largely uncoupled him from the Aeldari. Meanwhile, because Alexander had greatly increased the happiness of the Imperial people, the joy and pleasure they released into the Warp nourished Slaanesh. While not as extreme as the screams of Aeldari souls, the sheer quantity made it more natural for him to absorb.
"Those who worship blood and slaughter will inevitably worship the Emperor. After all, He is the greatest executioner in the galaxy," Khorne said in a muffled voice. "But my followers have a streak of unrestrained red in their hearts—a power I gave them to fight the void of death. No spawn of the Dark King was born among my followers."
"Me? I am the God of Hope. You should ask the one next to me; His domain contains a certain amount of despair," Tzeentch said, pointing at Nurgle.
Alexander looked at Nurgle. Indeed, in over 20,000 dreams, the Dark King's spawn escaped in 1,911 instances. Most of those were born from Nurgle's Daemon Worlds.
"I did find some flesh-altars praying to the Emperor in sewers and dark hives," Nurgle said. "I checked them. Several altars had indeed been visited, and the cultists were wiped out. But I found no traces of a birth. I suspect the spawn that slipped from Slaanesh's hands was born elsewhere and passed through my domain, killing those cultists."
This matched Alexander's judgment using the "Right-Wrong Divination Machine." Combined with the information from the "Kinetaro Pillow" and the planet he discovered, only one should have escaped.
Alexander turned to Slaanesh.
"What! I already told you there are none!" Slaanesh glared back.
Alexander said nothing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small planet covered in human skin.
Slaanesh's expression changed instantly.
"Eidolon? How is he dead? This planet?"
"The spawn was born on it?"
"Didn't you say you checked?" Alexander asked, his eyes twitching. If he hadn't been cautious and re-checked every planet where a spawn had previously appeared, that one really would have escaped...
"I... I didn't know..." Slaanesh looked flustered and at a loss. "Why didn't I notice?"
"Is this your level of control over your own domain?" Alexander felt speechless.
Then, Alexander looked up, his gaze toward Slaanesh becoming dangerous and strange.
He reached into his pocket and quickly pulled out a gadget.