"How is this possible?!"
Fulgrim stared at Guilliman, now wrapped up in the Chaotic array, and froze.
He met the Primarch of Ultramar's gaze, saw the fighting spirit blazing in his eyes, and realized the man actually looked even more excited than he was.
The Fallen Phoenix could not process it for a moment. His gaze shifted back to the Savior, and he saw that Eden was completely unaffected.
"The hypocrite didn't trigger the trap… Guilliman did!
How can that be? Was this not a trap set specifically for the Savior by the Changer of Ways? How did it target the wrong man?!"
He was genuinely stunned.
By all normal logic, this Chaotic array had been jointly set up by the Prince of Pleasure and the Changer of Ways, a special trap aimed at the Savior alone.
Only the Savior should have been able to trigger it.
It should not have responded to any other Primarch.
But now, the trap had been prematurely activated by the Primarch of Ultramar and shifted onto him instead.
That was a major error.
In the warp, foul energies boiled.
"Deceiver, did you weave a lie into Pleasure's design?!"
Slaanesh, the Prince of Pleasure, flew into a rage and lashed an unspeakable whip toward the crystal labyrinth.
The whip, woven from pure ecstatic corruption, was horrifying.
The labyrinth shook and shuddered. Countless crystal mirrors shattered.
Pink mist surged everywhere.
Cultists and daemons of Tzeentch alike, without distinction, immediately began doing unspeakable things to each other on the spot, their minds taking massive damage.
The Prince of Pleasure was roaring at the master of the labyrinth, convinced that the other god had gone abstract again.
In Slaanesh's eyes, the Changer of Ways had sabotaged their cooperation with a con, deliberately messing things up so the Savior could slip away.
The root of that fury lay in the price paid for this trap.
The ninefold Chaotic array and the entire killing plan had been funded with Slaanesh's own stockpile of belief and power.
The Changer of Ways had merely provided the sorcerous schematics, essentially "technology," and charged a premium for it.
Constructing a trap that could suppress warp-nature was not easy. It touched on the operating rules of divine authority.
It required pouring in vast resources to build isolation walls strong enough to sever a soul's link to the warp.
But for the Savior's soul, the Prince of Pleasure had grit his teeth and paid, donating a vast quantity of ecstatic power and faith to build the trap.
And now, at the exact moment of activation, the target was wrong.
Even if the array managed to kill the Primarch of Ultramar and take his soul, that soul could not be compared to the Savior's.
In Slaanesh's view, this was no different from throwing that power down a well. A catastrophic, blood-soaked loss.
So the Prince of Pleasure vented fury on the crystal labyrinth, both demanding answers and exacting payback from the Changer of Ways.
Caw.
"I have never deceived Pleasure. At least, this time I did not. There is no hidden lie in the array."
The Changer of Ways strained to hold off the whip of ecstatic power. The crow-face was already swollen, each welt from the lashes clearly visible.
His voice trembled slightly as He continued.
"For ten thousand years, I have never been this 'honest.' All to construct the most perfect stratagem and trap, to remove that Savior."
To the Changer of Ways, the Savior had become a true mortal threat.
The man had spawned too many variables, and his fate was infuriatingly difficult to grasp.
The god might delight in the changes the Savior brought, but the reality was that the galaxy was slowly returning to order. Trust was being rebuilt.
For a Great Rebel and god of conspiracies, this was lethal.
Thanks to the Savior's existence, His losses had already far exceeded His gains, and they were still mounting.
Under those circumstances, no god so threatened would lace a critical capture operation with gratuitous twists or self-sabotage.
To put it simply, the Changer amused Himself by playing games with unimportant plans where losses didn't matter.
But when it came to removing the Savior, such "clever tricks" were too costly. He would not do it.
This time, He had schemed with unprecedented seriousness.
"Lord of Pleasure, I am examining what has happened and how destiny was twisted.
There may yet be a chance to salvage this…"
The Changer of Ways endured the scourging without striking back.
He knew that Slaanesh was merely venting rage. If He retaliated, it could escalate into open war between the Palace of Pleasure and the crystal labyrinth.
Right now, what He wanted most was to know what had gone wrong.
From His perspective, the array targeting the wrong victim was akin to a long-running program suddenly showing an unknown error.
He had to locate the faulty module, patch it, and once again seize control of the Savior's fate.
While holding off Slaanesh's incursion, He combed through the fate-threads tied to the Savior.
But disturbingly, He found nothing. The fate-threads were flawless.
That only deepened His unease. The problem clearly existed, yet could not be located.
It was like everyone knowing there was a bug in the code, but no one being able to find it, and the program still running smoothly regardless.
There was only one conclusion.
The Savior's fate was even more complex than expected, or some higher-dimensional power had intervened.
The result: the Savior could not be locked onto, could not be defined.
"Savior… I will uncover all your secrets."
For once, the Changer of Ways was truly angry.
He plunged headlong into the jungle of fate-threads, seeking deeper layers to probe.
This failure was a bitter defeat.
He had finally taken something seriously, and the Savior had still made Him lose so completely.
Not long after, the Changer's form vanished from the chamber.
He had stepped into a special region of the warp, in search of further secrets.
On the outskirts of the daemon palace.
The nine-layered Chaotic array still spun, filth answering filth.
Ancient, twisted runes birthed droves of eye-studded tendrils, snaking toward both Guilliman and the Fallen Phoenix.
"Looks like the fortune-changing ritual actually did something… or Old G's causality of 'always late and always stepping on the trap' is just too absurd.
He is, after all, a man who can arrive late even with pre-emptive teleportation…"
Watching the array's evolution, Eden could not help thinking, "Clearly, bringing my brother Guilliman along was absolutely the right call."
If he had come alone this time, he would probably have walked straight into the Changer's trap, had his warp-nature suppressed, and then been beaten half to death.
Now he was safe. Guilliman, his brother, would take it on the chin for him.
Fortunately, the main purpose of this array was to restrict warp-nature and weaken its chosen prey.
For a warp-blind like Guilliman, the damage was not nearly as severe.
The man had rejected his warp-nature long ago.
He fought purely on the strength of his physical form.
From that angle, having such power without relying on the warp put Guilliman at a very high level.
Most other Primarchs drew on their warp-nature to some extent.
It was just that, judging from recent centuries of battlefield results, it was hard to reconcile that image with Guilliman supposedly being "very strong."
Hum.
The Chaotic array progressed to a new stage.
An unknown rule descended, probing Guilliman in an attempt to clamp down on his warp essence.
It found nothing.
It hiccupped, stuck for a moment, as if the runtime conditions did not exist, forcing the code to choke.
Then the rule vanished, while the array remained, spewing out a fresh tide of eye-studded tentacles.
These tendrils seemed capable of isolating the two Primarchs and blocking outside attacks.
Whoomph.
Eden ignited the holy flames of the Sword of the Emperor.
Sacred fire scorched the air and filled it with the scent of unguents and blessed oils.
But he did not hack at the Fallen Phoenix.
Instead, he turned his gaze to the Primarch of Ultramar, equally bound by the eye-tentacles.
"We cut the tendrils and get my brother out first."
He swung the blazing holy blade down into the obscene cords.
It was like a red-hot knife slicing into butter. A host of eye-tentacles were severed at once.
The Lion and the others joined in, launching their own attacks on the tendrils.
They wanted to clear the mess away and pull Guilliman out of the trap.
But it was useless.
Each time they cut the tentacles, more sprouted.
It was as if their number truly was infinite. No matter how many they destroyed, it was never enough.
Worse, the array's third phase began.
Space rippled violently.
They found it increasingly difficult not only to attack the tendrils, but even to make contact with those inside the formation.
"That's spatial translation. Roboute is going to be sent to some very dangerous place."
The Lion slashed with the Lion Sword like a knight at the charge, hacking down one giant tendril after another.
His keen instincts felt the warp-translation, and his blows came faster and harder.
Between strikes, he glanced anxiously at the Savior.
"Brother Eden, do you have a way to save that annoying bastard?"
In his agitation, the Lion let slip his true private nickname for Guilliman.
He might find Guilliman insufferable, but it was the annoyance of a brother.
He did not want that brother dragged off to some unknown Chaotic realm, or into certain death.
"The Changer's array is fully active now. It's practically impossible to stop, unless we can destroy this world in a very short time."
Eden's expression was grim. He had also understood how dangerous the array was.
Its foundation was tightly coupled to Kalisde itself.
To break the array, they would have to obliterate the planet.
That was the Changer's malice in its purest form.
Leaving aside whether he, as Emperor and Savior of Mankind, could even bring himself to give such an order,
there would still be the problem of retreat.
Right now even orbital fire couldn't punch down through the ritual shell. Destroying the planet would take even more time.
In other words, they had no way to prevent the array from functioning. They could only stand and watch it run.
That was probably why the Fallen Phoenix had been so arrogant earlier. He had been sure he had the Savior dead to rights.
Only now, the victim was Guilliman.
"Brothers, save your strength. There's no point burning ourselves out on this. You'll need your power for the enemy."
Bound by the eye-tentacles and barely able to move, Guilliman had understood the situation.
So had Eden. His voice was solemn.
"From here on, you'll be on your own, brother. That bastard will have set up layer after layer of assaults for you in there."
He had seen enough of the array to understand what the final output would be:
a kind of dueling arena that suppressed warp-nature,
one-way targeting, open only to Chaotic horrors.
This was what the gods and the Fallen Phoenix had wanted: to drag Eden inside and thrash him with every possible advantage.
Inside, it would be lethal.
"Brother, I have waited ten thousand years for this.
A chance to take revenge on Fulgrim and wipe away my shame."
Guilliman's voice held no fear, only iron resolve.
His will did not waver.
"No matter how many enemies stand in my way, no matter how great the danger, nothing will extinguish my fighting spirit.
I will seize that traitor and bring back the relic you desire."
"Good man. I believe in you."
Eden was still trying to batter his way toward the Fallen Phoenix.
He added, after a beat, changing the tone slightly,
"The Emperor is already working on decoding the array.
If you find yourself facing something you truly can't withstand, do everything you can to stay alive and wait for rescue."
He was, frankly, concerned about Old G's combat output. It was a deeply ingrained prejudice at this point.
Guilliman did not overthink it. He took it simply as his brother's concern.
He was confident that his strength was no longer what it had once been, that he could wash away his disgrace and bring back the relic.
Guilliman strode toward the Fallen Phoenix, aura blazing.
"Come, you pitiful wretch. Let us finish the battle that has dragged on for ten thousand years.
This time, I will claim the final victory."
"Damn it… damn it!
My most exquisite master, release me from this array! My opponent is the Savior!"
Fulgrim, by contrast, struggled harder than Guilliman.
He wanted out even more.
His original plan had been to use the array to cut the loyal Primarchs away from Eden, creating a dueling ground just for himself and the Savior.
Then he would slowly torture and defeat Eden, becoming the most dazzling existence in the galaxy.
Now everything had changed. It was all gone.
Because of the array, his assigned opponent was the man who used to be his punching bag.
It was like being knocked out of the main event and forced to hand the chance to kill the Savior over to his corrupted brothers.
Even worse, beating Guilliman again under such stacked conditions would be meaningless.
He would be using this kind of overkill setup to fight his old whipping boy. That was a humiliation in itself.
Fulgrim's face collapsed. His psyche was crumbling.
Especially when he realized the Savior had stopped paying him any attention at all.
It was the emotional equivalent of going to the second floor of the bathhouse, gritting your teeth to pay for the most spectacular top girl on the list…
only to have someone's auntie walk in instead.
For the supremely vain, narcissistic Fallen Phoenix, the former punching bag Guilliman was that auntie.
The shame was unbearable.
"No… I am the Savior's true opponent. It should be me…"
Fulgrim's features twisted, like someone being forced at knifepoint.
He shrieked in a high, ragged voice as he clawed at the tendrils binding him, forcing himself toward Eden, trying to grab hold of him.
"What's that noise, a kettle boiling?"
Eden stood without moving, ignoring the Fallen Phoenix completely and thereby humiliating him even more.
He had already figured out the array's rules and knew Fulgrim had no way to break free now.
Nor could he attack Eden.
Before the Fallen Phoenix got anywhere close, the air split open behind him.
More tendrils erupted from the cracks and dragged him into the unknown.
Into the arena he had so carefully prepared for himself.
"Traitor, you won't escape!"
Seeing this, Guilliman did not hesitate for an instant.
He dropped all resistance, closed his eyes, and let the array work, allowing it to pull him into the dueling ground as well.
Moments later, he heard voices from beyond the tentacles.
He opened his eyes and saw the Savior and the others looking on in puzzlement.
Then realized he was still standing there.
The Primarch of Ultramar was dazed.
"???"
"Old G, why are you still here? Don't tell me you can resist even the Changer's array?"
Eden stared at the immovable Guilliman in disbelief.
Was the warp-blind really that resistant?
A second later, space fractured behind Guilliman.
A mass of eye-tentacles erupted.
Eden understood at once.
"So it's just a delay. He's going in after Fulgrim.
Guilliman causality. Checks out."
"When this duel is done, I will return."
Guilliman met his brothers' eyes with a firm look, then turned and walked toward the rift of his own accord.
For a moment, it was all wind-in-the-pines and heroes going to their fate.
"Tch… this is really not the time to be setting flags, is it?"
Eden watched his brother's dramatic posture and felt a chill.
It looked like the man was about to never come back.
"Old G!"
A thought struck him and he suddenly shouted.
He hurled the Sword of the Emperor with all his might.
If his brother was going to plunge into a dragon's lair, it was better to send him in with the Emperor's own relic.
Guilliman caught the holy blade, and before he could say anything, the rift swallowed him whole.
The ground under his feet vanished with him, as if something had simply swallowed it all.
"I hope the Emperor, the little mare, and the high-grade psyker mentors can crack that array quickly…"
Eden frowned slightly as he watched his brother disappear.
At the very least, they needed to open a way to send in a stretcher team. Or some route for a rescue.
He was not entirely at ease about his brother.
But the flare of warp-power that followed shattered his thoughts.
He turned and saw a colossal Chaotic engine-fortress looming before him.
It was terrifying.
It seemed his never-met "helpful online friend" had arrived.
He would have to deal with that first, then go looking for Old G and the Fallen Phoenix.
Unknown warp-region.
A dazzling dueling arena reeking of ecstatic hell stretched out in the void.
Every seat was packed with Chaotic spectators.
This was the Fallen Phoenix's masterpiece.
Just building it had consumed billions of daemons, and its galleries were choked with jewels, artworks, and every manner of humanoid decoration.
It was one of the most luxurious dueling arenas in all the warp.
All of this fuss for one purpose:
to fight his chosen opponent on the perfect stage and execute him there.
This was Chaos' home ground.
The Chaotic audience sat forward in excitement, waiting for the duel the whole warp had come to see.
(End of Chapter)
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