(POV – Erik)
The war below us didn't look real.
From up on the floating obsidian platform Death had shaped beneath our feet, the battlefield spread out like some deranged painting. Red, green, black, and ash smeared together under a smogged sky. Titans strode, tanks burned, and tyranids swarmed in churning biomass waves. Daemons flashed like wounds in the air. Orks pinballed through everything like they thought reality was a bar fight.
And through the center of all that madness, the Imperials held.
"Y'know," I said, leaning on the invisible railing of our platform, "I thought this universe was supposed to be grim and hopeless."
Death stood beside me, arms loosely folded, hair fluttering in a wind that technically didn't exist. "It usually is," she said quietly. "Which is why this is unusual."
Down below, a squad of Guardsmen had dug into a half-collapsed trench line, lasguns blazing, supporting a pair of smoking Leman Russ tanks. The tanks were scorched, armor pitted, one track half blown off, but still moving. Still firing.
Around them, Orks were charging shrieking Tyranids and frothing Khorne Berzerkers with equal enthusiasm, completely ignoring the humans.
One Nob actually slapped a Berzerker away from a Guardsman.
"NO TOUCHIN' DA HUMIEZ! DEY'S WIV DA BAND!"
The Guardsman blinked, stared up toward us like maybe he'd lost his mind, then went right back to shooting Gaunts.
I couldn't help the grin on my face.
Death saw it and huffed a small laugh. "You seem proud of this."
"I am proud of this," I said. "They're all insane. But the humans are holding their own."
Another tremor rolled through the platform as the Warlord Titan fired again. The beam from its volcano cannon carved an incandescent scar through the horizon, wiping out an entire Chaos armor column in one blinding flash. A second later, the shockwave hit, rattling the air.
We didn't move. The platform stayed firm. Her power held everything steady.
"You see that shot?" I said. "We need one of those."
"You are not allowed to have a Titan." she replied instantly.
"Not even a small one?"
"There is no such thing as a small Titan."
"Bah details."
She gave me a sideways look that said, 'do not test me with god-machines, Erik.'
I chuckled and turned my attention back downward. The Warlord, Magnus Triumphans, if I remembered the vox-broadcast correctly, was striding forward now, each step smashing ruined ground and whatever unlucky Tyranids were in the way. Its carapace weapons thundered, macrobolters spinning up in rolling storms of fire. Daemons turned to mist. Carnifexes were reduced to twitching heaps of bone fragments and biomass goo.
The important part?
That massive, walking cathedral of death kept angling its guns away from the humans. Its path carved clean lines through Chaos and Tyranid concentrations, and every now and then it deliberately stomped a Daemon or monster that had gotten too close to the Imperial line.
"Subtle," I murmured.
Death tilted her head. "You approve?"
"I appreciate when the trying not to die side gets a little help, yeah."
Below, I watched a Krieger drag a wounded Cadian out from a collapsing barricade, shoving him behind cover without a word. The Cadian nodded, face streaked with dirt and blood.
They didn't have much, but what they did have, they shared. Fear. Duty. Determination. Understanding.
Death followed my gaze.
"Yes," she said softly. "They have always been like that. It's one of the reasons their souls tend to, linger in songs and memories longer than most."
I raised an eyebrow. "You do realize you're getting sentimental."
"I am allowed." She lifted her chin slightly. "I am dating a musician. Some side effects are inevitable."
I laughed.
__________
(POV – Lady Death)
The battle had begun as chaos. Now it was becoming something else. Brutality, yes, but with patterns emerging, currents shaping.
Mortals always assumed war was pure senseless destruction, and in many universes it was. But here, in this moment, threads of intent were visible.
The Imperials fought to survive, to protect the tiny scrap of existence they could call theirs.
The Tyranids fought because instinct and hunger drove them forward.
Chaos fought for blood and favor and warped pride.
The Orks fought because fighting was breathing for them.
And Erik?
Erik had tilted the balance without realizing it.
His music still reverberated through the air, components of it woven into the psychic background like lingering aftershocks. The Orks were riding that resonance, their WAAAGH energy pulsing stronger than it had any right to. They crashed into the enemy lines with gleeful violence, but whenever a human came near, they either shoved them out of the way or roared at them to "GO KILL SOMEFINK ELSE!"
A Chaos Space Marine swung at a Guardsman from the flank, eyes blazing with warp-light.
An Ork Nob appeared from the side and tackled the Marine, yelling, "GET YA OWN HUMIES, SPIKEY! DESE ONES ARE OURS!"
The Guardsman stared, stunned, then scrambled backward toward his squad.
Erik leaned forward on the edge of the platform. "Did you see that?"
"Yes," I replied.
He smiled, and something in the void hummed with him.
"You started something today," I said. "You didn't just play a concert. You shifted a battlefield."
He shrugged, but the motion was uncomfortable. "Wasn't intentional."
"Perhaps not. But intent is not always necessary. Influence exists whether you will it or not."
He went quiet at that, eyes darkening for a moment. I knew where his thoughts went, back to the seal, the isolation, the fear of what his power could do unchecked.
I reached out and let my fingers brush his.
He looked at me.
"You did not unmake reality," I said. "You made it louder. And you gave the mortals on that world a fighting chance."
He stared at me for a second longer, then exhaled and let tension flow out of his shoulders.
"Guess that's not the worst thing to accidentally do," he admitted.
"Hardly."
Below, the front line shifted as the Imperials advanced under the Titan's shadow. The Orks surged outward, widening their brawl with Chaos and Tyranids. The Skies crackled with residual WAAAGH lightning and warp-fire.
The humans stayed in the center, like the eye of the storm. Hurt, but not broken.
In this universe?
That alone was a miracle.
__________
(POV – Erik)
I watched a squad of Space Marines in blue armor march in formation through piles of corpses and wreckage, bolters flashing with measured fury. Their Captain moved at their head, sword drawn, trusting his men implicitly.
They weren't like the humans in the trenches. They were cleaner, more precise, less messy. But they still bled. They still fell. I'd seen one cut down earlier by a Daemon before an Ork trukk ran the Daemon over just because it was in the way.
"This galaxy is ridiculous," I said out loud.
"True," Death answered. "But it has good taste in armor."
"Can't argue that."
One of the Marines paused mid-step and looked up directly toward us. His helmet hid his expression, but I felt his gaze brush across my essence, like a silent question.
'Who are you?'
I gave him a casual two-finger salute.
He held the stare a moment longer, then turned and joined the advance, accepting what he had seen without comment.
"You think they'll remember us?" I asked.
"The Orks will," Death replied. "The humans will turn you into a confusing legend. The bureaucracy will write it up as a psyker event. The Inquisition will be very upset."
I snorted. "I'll send them a signed guitar pick later."
Below, the last major cluster of Tyranids broke under combined fire. The Hive Tyrant shrieked a psychic curse as its synaptic web crumpled. Orks cheered as it fell. Guardsmen cheered when the Orks dragged its corpse down and started using it as a drum.
Chaos forces tried to regroup, but they were caught between the Titan's guns, the Space Marines' methodical advance, and an enthusiastic Ork horde that had decided Chaos was "fun ta hit, but not as funny as da bugs."
The battle wasn't over, but its outcome was already written.
"Looks like they've got it," I said.
"Yes," Death agreed.
"You ready to go?" I asked. "Or want to stick around for the post-fight arguments over whose kill-count was higher?"
She gave me a look that said she'd seen more post-battle arguments than I had years of existence. Which is odd considering I am the Firstborn.
"I believe we've seen the most interesting part of this conflict."
"Fair."
I took one last sweeping look.
At the Titan, still walking.
At the Orks, still yelling.
At the humans, still standing.
I didn't feel the deep ache of loneliness that had haunted me across endless ages. I didn't feel sealed, trapped, or suffocating. Just, curious. A little proud. And ready to move on.
"Okay," I said. "What's next on the not so relaxing vacation tour?"
__________
(POV – Lady Death)
He always asked "what's next" like the universe owed him infinite new experiences. He had been born in a place that decided it feared him, sealed him, left him alone in a cage of nothing. Now, every new world he saw, every new culture he encountered, every strange battlefield or quiet garden or song in a cramped bar, he treated them all as proof that loneliness was no longer his fate.
I would make sure of that.
He tilted his head back, closed his eyes for a second, listening, not to the battle now, but to the echoes around it. The warp vibrations. The lingering threads of strained faith. The human prayers whispered in trenches, half-hearted and desperate.
Then he exhaled and opened his eyes, bright again.
"Someplace quiet," he said. "We did the screaming universe. Let's go somewhere that hasn't invented artillery yet."
"The Orks would be disappointed," I said.
"They won't know we're leaving," he replied. "They'll just assume the music went on tour."
He wasn't wrong.
"Very well," I said softly. "Let's go somewhere small."
I lifted my hand.
The void bent around us, reacting like fabric being pinched and twisted. The air hushed. Even the distant thunder of the Titan's guns seemed to soften as space parted in a tall, vertical line of light. Beyond it lay another universe entirely. This one bright, soft, painted in colors that didn't scream violence.
Warm sky. Gentle sea. A world where a raised voice would be considered a disturbance, not background noise.
Behind us, something tugged weakly at my awareness. I glanced back one last time.
On the battlefield, a Cadian officer had climbed a broken promethium drum, waving a tattered regimental banner. Men and women raised their weapons in salute, shouting themselves hoarse, not because they believed the war was over, but because they believed they'd have the chance to fight again tomorrow.
They didn't know why the Orks hadn't tried to kill them. They didn't know who the strange figures had been above the battlefield, or why the Titan's princeps had whispered a rare, reverent prayer to "Unknown Allies of the Imperium" over a private vox channel.
But they were alive.
That was enough.
"Do you regret not helping more?" I asked Erik.
He shook his head. "They didn't need us to win. Just to shift the starting conditions a little."
He hesitated, then added, "And if we take too much from them, it stops being their victory."
I liked that answer.
I stepped closer to the rift, feeling its edges warp around my presence.
"Come on then, Firstborn," I said quietly. "Let's see what else is out there."
He grinned. "Lead the way, Endless."
__________
(POV – Erik)
I took one last look over my shoulder.
An Ork was riding on the back of a wounded Carnifex, whacking it with a chunk of metal and yelling, "GO FASTER YA UGLY BUG TRUKK!"
A Commissar was trying, and failing, not to smile as a Guardsman told some exaggerated version of what had just happened.
The Titan was standing still now, broadcasting a victory signal and occasional machine-prayers in binharic.
The music that had started all of this still lingered in the air, thin but present, braided into the WAAAGH, the warp, the crackle of plasma and sound of marching boots.
I lifted my hand.
Just once, I snapped my fingers.
A soft, almost imperceptible chord, just three notes. Spread across the battlefield. Most never heard it consciously. But they felt it.
The Orks whooped. The humans felt their shoulders lighten. Even the ground itself seemed to close its wounds a little faster.
Then I turned and stepped through the portal.
Warmth washed over me.
Sand. Salt. A gentle breeze instead of burning ash. A sky more gold than gray.
Behind me, the tear into the 40k universe still hung open. Death stepped through, expression momentarily lit by the distant firelight of a war-torn world.
She looked back once as well, then flicked her fingers. The rift sealed shut with a soft sound, like the last strum of a fading song.
The noise of battle cut off instantly.
Silence.
Real silence.
The kind of quiet where new songs could start.
I exhaled. "Okay. Yeah. This is better."
Death's boots sank slightly into the sand as she walked over to stand beside me. Twin suns hung low on the horizon, turning the waves into molten metal.
"Do you regret leaving so soon?" she asked.
I thought about it.
A part of me wanted to stay, to see how the Imperials wrote that day into their history. To hear the myths that would spring up, The Day The Waaagh Sang, or The Concert of the Damned, or The Unknown Patron Saints of Noise.
But that was their story now. Not mine.
"Nah," I said. "They've got their ending. Or their next chapter, anyway."
"And ours?" she asked.
I looked out at the water. The breeze carried faint, natural sounds. Birds, waves, distant leaves. It was soft compared to what we'd just left. Almost fragile, in a good way.
"Ours keeps going," I said. "Plenty of universes left. Plenty of songs left."
I glanced sideways at her. "Plenty of vacations left, and who knows I might just visit again"
She smiled, a real, unhurried smile. "As long as you don't try to summon an Ork band onto a beach, I think we'll be fine."
"Hmm." I pretended to think about it. "No promises."
"Erik."
"Okay, okay. No Orks. Maybe. Probably."
She sighed, but the fondness behind it was obvious.
I conjured a chair out of vibrations and nothing, shaped like an old reclining lounge. She raised an eyebrow as I flopped into it.
"What?" I said. "If I'm going to relax, I'm going to do it properly."
A second later, another chair appeared beside mine, this one shaped for her, dark and elegant.
She didn't comment. Just sat.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
I listened to this new world, its own hum, its own quiet rhythm. Every place had a sound, if you knew how to hear it. This one was slow and peaceful, balanced on the edge of night, full of potential but not yet rushing anywhere.
After the screaming orchestral insanity of 40k, it felt like stepping into a small, theater after playing in a stadium.
I liked both.
But for now?
The small stage was enough.
"You know," I said eventually, "next time we go somewhere, you should pick."
"I picked this," she reminded me.
"True, but you picked after we watched Orks invent their own worship playlist."
She considered that. "Very well. Next time, I'll choose the first destination. Somewhere strange. Somewhere that will surprise even you."
"I'm holding you to that."
"I expect nothing less."
We sat together, watching the suns sink slowly, painting the sky in layers of color.
Back in another universe, war would continue. New horrors would rise. New heroes would fall. Banners would be raised. Titans would stride again. Someone would probably try to explain the "Ork–human non-aggression concert incident" in an Imperial archive and get demoted for heresy.
But that was for them.
This moment was ours.
For once, I wasn't the first sound of a universe. I wasn't a prisoner. I wasn't a weapon, or a myth, or a feared unknown.
I was just Erik.
On a beach.
With Death at my side.
And an endless road of songs ahead.
Yeah.
Vacation wasn't so bad.
__________
__________
And that's it for the side story for now. Dont worry wont be the last, and we will revisit 40k in the future.
Hope you liked it. We Finally fit 10 chapters do me a favor if you will and leave a review and or powerstones. Lets get this book higher in the rankings.
As always, if you have questions or concerns leave a comment here.
See you all tomorrow.