Originally, the Chaos Gods could never manifest in the material universe, even with psychic awakenings and widening warp rifts.
They could only exert greater influence upon realspace; entering it in their true bodies was still impossible.
A Chaos God's true form defies language. They are a rule, a manifestation of the Warp's essence.
In truth, they have no bodies at all—everything is merely the Warp's projection.
But if, as Tzeentch claimed, the barrier between the Warp and reality is broken, a Chaos God's godshard will appear in the material universe in its true aspect.
Then it will be different. The boundary between illusion and reality will be shattered; truth and physics will collide.
The Chaos Gods grinned. Their dreadful laughter rolled across the entire Warp.
"So that means—" Khorne, upon the Brass Throne, bared a ferocious smile. "We can descend as true gods upon Holy Terra?"
If they could wield their full power, the Emperor of Mankind would be no concern. Nothing would be. A mere gesture would annihilate all.
The four Ruinous Powers transcend time and space and are eternal. If they could descend into realspace, the Emperor would stand no chance.
"Precisely!" Vashtorr's forge-heart erupted with blinding fire. "In the instant the Chaos godshard is torn from its host, the line between reality and delusion will blur completely.
In that moment, Holy Terra will become an extension of the Warp! There you can wield the totality of your power. Victory will be ours!"
He was not yet a Chaos God, but one foot already stood in that realm, and the others had tacitly accepted him. This would be his chance to become a true Chaos God.
"Wait, there's one thing I must confirm. If the Emperor succeeds in extracting the godshard but fails to destroy it immediately," Nurgle's voice twisted with excitement, "what do we do with the unclaimed godshard?"
This was crucial. A Chaos godshard would not create a "leveled-up" god; whoever fused with it would immediately become one of the Warp's gods. He had no intention of letting anyone else seize that chance.
"Hmph! I will distribute it, of course. I am the oldest and strongest of the true Chaos Gods—who surpasses me? I shall contribute the most to this war," Khorne declared at once.
All wanted the godshard, but Khorne intended to destroy the one belonging to Slaanesh, his antithesis. He had not joined this war to save Slaanesh.
To obliterate his greatest rival completely, he would shatter Slaanesh's godshard with his blood-soaked axe.
"Why you? We all contribute to this outcome—and I don't believe you can destroy it.
A Chaos godshard is indestructible. The Emperor may extract it, but it cannot be annihilated," Tzeentch said.
He was eager to forge this alliance—even to the point of working with that damned green fat lump, his mortal enemy—but that did not mean he would hand over the prize.
In the Plague Sea at the Warp's heart, Nurgle's cauldron boiled. Millions of rotting eyes bobbed in the thick yellow-green pus, each reflecting the extraction ritual deep within the Imperial Palace.
The Plaguefather dug fungal fingers into the lip of the cauldron; spores squeezed from beneath his nails fell and sprouted into tumorous flesh that screamed like newborns. "My Isha. Her light of life burns for those ants. I need the godshard to tend her wounds. I will make her a new Chaos God."
Isha must have felt he had not treated her well enough and so was lured away from his little garden by that human.
So this time he would seize the godshard for Isha, presenting it as a wedding gift to win her back.
Then the beautiful goddess of life would surely return to his garden, stay with him forever, drink his carefully brewed broth—the broth he perfected for her.
When Slaanesh first arose, he fought and defeated that upstart for the sake of the Life Goddess. He could fight for Isha once more.
"Impossible. Don't even think about it. I will never hand Slaanesh's godshard to you," Khorne said.
If that damned green lardbag obtained the godshard and the Life Goddess truly relented and returned to him, then Nurgle's side would have two Chaos Gods. The rest would be disadvantaged; the Eternal Game could not proceed.
"We'll shatter the godshard and each take a third. As for the remaining third—do with it as you please," Tzeentch proposed.
That was the fairest way. As for Vashtorr—he wasn't a Chaos God yet. Being allowed into their council was honor enough; he had no claim to spoils.
"I want half. At least half, to give to Isha," Nurgle said.
"Why should you have half? I don't need a whole portion, but it must be split into four.
Don't forget Vashtorr is our collaborator and about to ascend as a fifth Chaos God. He deserves a share," Khorne said.
Helping Vashtorr get a portion of Slaanesh's godshard was not conscience or charity.
It was because Slaanesh was Khorne's archenemy; he wanted the shard divided as many ways as possible.
Split it into four, and Khorne gained the greatest advantage.
Tzeentch and Nurgle glared at Khorne, who shot back without flinching. A sky-rending rain of blood swept the Warp.
The green plague did not yield; the blue mutating magicks followed; a violent storm tore through the Immaterium.
All lesser daemons shivered.
"Enough, all of you. We haven't beaten our foe yet—haven't even gotten the godshard—and you're divvying loot?
Shouldn't we discuss this after we defeat the Emperor and seize the godshard?" Vashtorr said.
How had these idiots become Chaos Gods? The enemy wasn't here yet and they were already at each other's throats. What good were they?
The three gods paused at his words. Blood-red, bilious green, and cerulean power subsided, and the Warp calmed.
"I'm helping you, Vashtorr. I regard you as an equal ally, unlike those two who treat you like a dog," Khorne said.
"Is that so? How generous," Vashtorr replied.
Like hell. Khorne merely wanted to use his name to ensure Slaanesh's godshard was smashed—destroying his greatest rival, the one he despised most.
Still, a quarter share of a godshard would be valuable.
Whether he absorbed it himself or used it to forge a mighty greater daemon, it would be a bargain.
They could not yet be sure whether a godshard could be absorbed to increase their power. If not, they would have to use it to create a subordinate god-demon.
"Let's agree to this for now. We can't even be sure the godshard can be broken, let alone split into four," Tzeentch said.
Forget internal strife now. First deal with the Emperor—and that Outsider. After eradicating him, his trove from other universes would also be fair game.
"Hmph! For now, then. We'll defeat the Emperor first. When do we act? Do we head to Holy Terra now?"
Once their true selves descended into realspace, it would be every god for himself—whoever seized it, kept it. Each harbored his own schemes.
"By my estimation, it will take a dozen or so years before the godshard is fully extracted and manifests in realspace.
The moment it appears, we can enter the material universe," Tzeentch said.
"So we must wait decades to deal with the Emperor?" Khorne asked.
"Correct. But we won't be idle. We'll bring every hidden blade to bear and plunge the Imperium into endless war.
The more chaotic realspace becomes, the stronger we will be," Tzeentch said.
The more chaos in the Imperium, the less faith the Emperor could draw—and the weaker he would be.
"I am about to find all my keys. Once I have them, I can begin my ascension," Vashtorr said.
At the final battle, he would appear anew—not a mere lesser Chaos god, but a true Ruinous Power.
Though Abaddon had been captured, his legions were effectively in Vashtorr's hands, and sleeper pieces laid throughout the galaxy could now awaken the Arks of Omen.
These supercolossal vessels, driven by daemon engines and built from shattered ships fused together, would be deployed.
"Unending plagues will sweep the Imperium."
"Terror and war will engulf the Imperium."
"Infinite change and wicked schemes will saturate mankind."