Did you know? In many worlds, there exist legends that 'one does not walk alone at night' — and behind these legends, there are often terrifying stories that truly happened.
Step. Step——
Mortarion lowered his head. His pace slowed. He had already noticed something strange behind him. Even without relying on his extraordinary hearing, he knew something was wrong.
A steady golden light illuminated his path far too clearly — it was utterly impossible to ignore. The light was unnaturally even, casting shadows that forced the mud, dead trees, and drifting spores to cower and hide.
"You've followed me long enough... Now let's see who you really are!"
He stopped abruptly. With a low roar, he gripped the scythe in his hand — stained with countless filths — and spun around. His strength exploded in an instant. His swing was fierce, decisive, seeking to cleave the stalker in two.
But the next second, his motion froze in mid‑air. Mortarion stood rigid, his mind as though struck by a hammer.
The creature stood upright, clad in fur like liquid gold. It resembled some oversized, elongated Barbaran rat, yet its proportions were uncanny. It was arrayed in golden armour, and behind its head hovered a halo of holy light — which, combined with its 'rat‑like' appearance, created a bizarre yet inexplicably sagacious aspect.
"Young one... Do you think I appear as a man, or as a god?"
The voice resonated directly within Mortarion's consciousness — thin, with a strangely resonant quality.
The yellow‑skinned figure before him was, naturally, Nyx — enjoying a bit of roleplay. He had used his recently restored magnetic field rotation to subtly warp the light, confounding Mortarion's senses, ensuring that what Mortarion beheld was a 'yellow‑skinned' being, nearly man‑sized, bathed in golden radiance.
Kids these days have heard all sorts of wild tales about the Emperor's origins. The truth is, he was a ferret who begged a title from the British Empire, but GW forcibly crammed him into the Imperial setting.
Believe it or not, Nyx certainly believed it.
"...Rat‑xenos..."
Mortarion snapped from his shock. Familiar revulsion and vigilance surged through him. He was bewildered only for an instant — then his combat instincts took over.
Mortarion roared again. This time, he did not hesitate. His scythe rent the air; with all his weight and wrath, he brought it down upon the rat‑like xenos's skull.
CLANG——!
A piercing screech of metal against metal erupted. Sparks flew. Mortarion's hand trembled violently as he watched his scythe effortlessly blocked by a rat‑claw.
"Young one. Let me ask again... Do I appear as a man, or as a god?"
Before his words faded, his finger‑claws tightened slightly.
CRACK!
In that shocking, crisp sound — the scythe snapped at the point of grip! Half the blade spun away and landed in the distant mud.
His weapon was destroyed, yet Mortarion was undeterred. His muscles coiled; his fists clenched. He was ready to hurl himself forward and fight to the death in the most primal manner —
Ah?!
At the peak of his killing intent — a majesty descended, far beyond his comprehension! This was not physical pressure, but a terrifying aura that acted directly upon the spiritual and soul levels. The air itself seemed to freeze instantly. All sound ceased.
Mortarion felt every cell in his body scream. The strength and courage he had just mustered melted away like snow. It seemed he had no power at all to contend with this being.
"You... You look... like... like a god..."
Mortarion wished to answer 'like a xenos' — but circumstance compelled him. Before this absolute disparity in power, the only viable option was to temporarily bow his head. Between 'man' and 'god', the former was clearly not applicable. As for god?
A Great Horned Rat god? Or a yellow‑skinned god?
...Just you wait, xenos. I will repay this humiliation a hundredfold!
Mortarion sowed seeds of hatred in the most hidden recesses of his heart, his expression contorted by suppression and struggle. Nyx cared not. Upon his 'ferret' face spread a benevolent, playful smile.
"The child may be taught..."
Nyx was rather satisfied with this sincere admission. You see, even 'Old Man Yellow' — that 'good big boy' renowned for his stubbornness — admits that Huang Pizza is a god. On the other hand, that certain 'Old Deng' only grows more recalcitrant with age.
"Child. You have made the right choice."
His voice was gentler now, though still oddly matched to his reverent aspect.
"Fate does not always manifest as one expects. Wisdom lies in discerning the hidden paths." Nyx spoke enigmatically.
"I have two books, intended for you. They may aid you in resolving your present circumstances — and in completing the great undertaking of liberating your homeland."
Two books... Liberate the planet?
Mortarion stared incredulously at the rat‑like xenos before him, nearly his own height. Help him liberate the planet? He did not believe this at all.
His adoptive father was a cunning, cruel xenos overlord. In this moment, he felt the entity before him was plotting some scheme. Very well — first, feign acceptance and deceit, gather information, and await an opportunity to expose this xenos.
"...Squeak... Take them. Commune with them in your heart, and you shall obtain your own enlightenment."
Nyx, with an air of casual nonchalance, produced two thick volumes. Their covers were of dark, aged hide, inscribed with simple lettering — yet they seemed to flow with the lustre of wisdom.
"The 'Book of Universal Governance'... and the 'Analects'?!"
Mortarion hesitated, then accepted them. He opened the first book.
The next moment, he stood frozen — as though struck by lightning.
The text seemed to animate itself, carrying a vast torrent of information, subversive perspectives, and the 'truth' he now desperately sought — ceaselessly permeating his consciousness. This was no longer the passive indoctrination of his adoptive father; Mortarion was actively learning. Many vague confusions regarding dominion, human nature, and the essence of power found unique annotations within these seemingly absurd assertions!
Heh~ Kid. Still think I can't handle you?
Nyx chuckled inwardly. He had never read the 'Book of Universal Governance', but he remembered the skeleton of the 'Analects'. These two volumes were compiled by him from fragmentary memories of his past life, synthesising the essence of various schools, interweaving many personal experiences, and adding some 'private additions'. Their core was pragmatism — plus Nyx's personal 'Compendium of Strongman Experience'.
Jokes aside — if nothing else, Nyx could guarantee that these two books were far more useful than the Imperium's tattered dogmas.
"The The departed is like a My dear husband, unwilling to surrender day and night..."
"Shh — so the appearance of the Dread Brother, beating men to death, is so terrifying that one cannot sleep day or night..."
"So violence can also be employed by analogy..."
Mortarion felt that the path to Barbarus's liberation seemed to beckon him.
Watching Mortarion's expression shift from revulsion to shock to dependence, Nyx knew his 'gift' had found Mortarion's 'itch'.
Wasn't this far more useful than numerology, which didn't even use this set?
Though part of the content was fabricated by Nyx, the majority were valuable knowledges from his past life memories. As for how useful they were? Nyx could only say: that is a matter of opinion.
...Ahem. Should he, perhaps, tell this child in the future that a little 'Sea Tiger' had actually been stitched into the 'Book of Universal Governance'?