Archmagos Belisarius Cawl traversed the Black Library, searching for the information he needed.
The great original power, who refused to acknowledge himself as a god, had opened the doors to this crystallization of Eldar wisdom for him.
'Praise the Omnissiah, even if HE Himself does not acknowledge it'
Here lay the Eldar's own accumulated knowledge, as well as wisdom stolen by the Eldar from various races, including humanity.
Belisarius Cawl primarily focused his energy on the Emerald Tablets that the great original power had given him.
The origin of human bio-alchemy was recorded in this secret tome, penned by the Emperor himself.
Belisarius Cawl attempted to decipher a part of its mysteries and was immediately awestruck by the wisdom of the Emperor, of the Omnissiah.
If he had obtained this book earlier, perhaps he could have elevated Primaris technology to an even higher level.
Belisarius Cawl searched for texts that could help him better understand the Emperor's technology. His gaze fell upon a book on a shelf, written in an alien script. 'Hmm, this script seems to be Necron in style, but with slight differences.'
But Belisarius Cawl could still vaguely discern that it was a record of ancient Eldar anatomy.
Belisarius Cawl loathed those abominations; all machinery was an extension of the Omnissiah, all technology was the wisdom of the Omnissiah, all power came from original power.
He extended a mechanical hand, attempting to pull out the book—
Fire transformed into a barrier on the bookshelf. An Eldar rune depicting wings, flames, a bird's head, a single eye, and a crown flashed in mid-air, preventing Belisarius Cawl from reaching out.
"This is a barrier woven by Asuryan, separating mortals from the gods, and by extension, isolating knowledge in the Black Library that overly concerns the gods."
"My dear Isha knows how to bypass this thing, but she's currently at the plague God's residence, sipping on thick soup!"
Cegorach's cackling laughter echoed from mid-air. He stood with the great original power high above the Black Library, discussing something unknown.
Belisarius Cawl bowed to the great original power and continued his search for what he needed in the Black Library.
"Asuryan's barrier? This thing is still here?" Alexander raised an eyebrow, slightly curious.
He knew the origin of this thing. Long before the Eldar's fall, when the Pantheon was still complete, the Eldar maiden goddess Lileath made a prophecy:
The Eldar God of Murder, Khaine, would be slain by the Eldar.
How should Alexander describe Khaine?
Khaine was a pure god, a god detached from sophisticated tastes, a god who had abandoned thought, a god harmful to both the material and Warp universes.
As the God of Murder, Khaine had a unique methodology for all the complex problems in this world: kill!
There was no problem in this world that killing couldn't solve; if there was, it simply meant not enough killing had been done.
He would be slain by the Eldar? Others might be confused and hesitant by this headless, tailless prophecy, but Khaine was not.
Since the Eldar would kill him in the future, why not just kill all the Eldar now?
Thus, Khaine, the Eldar's racial god, directly manifested in the material universe and began a wave of slaughter against the entire Eldar race.
As for questions like what would become of him, a racial god, after all the Eldar were massacred, it was hard to say whether such thoughts ever crossed Khaine's mind.
But the other Eldar gods clearly couldn't tolerate Khaine's abstract behavior. Eventually, Asuryan, Lord of the Eldar Pantheon and Phoenix King, wove a barrier.
This barrier would permanently separate the Eldar from the gods, preventing direct communication and contact between them.
Ultimately, Slaanesh was born, the gods were devoured, and Khaine was shattered by Slaanesh, born from the Eldar's debauchery, which in a sense fulfilled Lileath's prophecy.
But in Alexander's view, if Lileath hadn't made such a random prophecy, Khaine wouldn't have massacred the Eldar, Asuryan wouldn't have separated gods from Eldar, the Eldar, if controlled by the gods, might not have indulged in debauchery, the tragedy of Slaanesh's birth might not have happened, and Khaine wouldn't have been shattered.
One could only say it was a very Eldar-style story.
"It seems you know the origin of this barrier?" Cegorach said with a chuckle. "This barrier comes directly from Asuryan, the true Lord of the Pantheon, which is to say, from the Eldar Pantheon itself."
"As long as the Pantheon does not completely fall, this barrier will always exist, merely weakening as the Pantheon weakens."
"To break this thing, you'd have to go kill all my brothers in Slaanesh's belly, utterly crush Khaine, strangle Ynnead, and then kill Isha and me too."
"The Eldar Pantheon still exists?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"Of course!" Saying this, Cegorach suddenly waved his hand.
The Black Library before Alexander rippled. The scene before his eyes swayed like water, revealing the view beneath the surface.
It was a temple, grand and exquisite, carved with countless intricate sculptures and patterns. Slender archways constantly traversed the domes, weaving into a dense net.
Beneath the domes were many thrones.
Some burned with fierce fire, adorned with scales and phoenixes, standing at the highest point.
Some hung with a severed hand, bearing a small pouch, as if threads of fate flowed upon it.
Some hung with a traveler's cloak, bearing a wanderer's tools and tent, like a vagrant's abode.
Still others held forging hammers and anvils, some held maiden's ornaments, and some hung with dead hounds.
But most of these thrones were shattered, with only a few remaining intact.
On a throne burning with blood and fire, draped with ninety-nine blood swords, sat a shattered idol.
A throne draped with vibrant branches and blooming white flowers was intact but empty, with faint mold spreading across it.
A throne adorned with various magic props and wicked jokes was in a rather inconspicuous position, but a giggling Harlequin sat upon it, wearing a crown.
Additionally, there was a newly carved throne, upon which sat a cold, silent figure.
Beyond this, Alexander raised his eyes with a sense of awe, looking towards the dome of the temple, where a faint purple light descended from above.
"You see, the Pantheon is right here, but unfortunately, only a few gods remain seated in these positions."
Cegorach still spoke with a giggle.
Alexander was slightly surprised, not expecting the Eldar Pantheon to be hidden beneath the Black Library. No, it could only be hidden beneath the Black Library.
It must be the combined power of the Black Library and the Pantheon that allowed the Laughing God to hide within, evading Slaanesh's pursuit.
"Actually, a new cycle has formed within the Pantheon," Cegorach said, waving his hand to conceal the Pantheon beneath the Black Library once more.
"..You, Ynnead, and Isha?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow.
Isha as the goddess of life, Ynnead as the god of death, and the Laughing God in the middle—this indeed seemed like a cycle.
"No, it's Khaine, Ynnead, and me; Isha is absent," Cegorach said, shrugging. "Of course, the cycle isn't perfect; Khaine is still shattered."
"..If Khaine wasn't shattered, he'd directly start slaughtering the Eldar."
Alexander's mouth twitched as he said,
"Khaine is responsible for killing all the Eldar, Ynnead is responsible for being born after the Eldar are all dead, and you're useless... Is this what you call a cycle?"
"How on earth did you come up with such a scheme?"
"Given the situation of us Eldar, having anything at all is good enough. Don't I just try to make do?" Cegorach said, showing a helpless expression.
Then he chuckled, "Or perhaps you could help me retrieve Isha from Nurgle's Garden."
"That way, Khaine is responsible for killing, Isha is responsible for saving, and I'm responsible for cheering them on from the sidelines."
"Alright, alright, Isha is a little widow, and coincidentally, our Emperor is also a little widow. They can make do together," Alexander said with a grin, joking.
"Hehehe, you—" Cegorach's laughter abruptly ceased. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze directed beyond the Black Library.
Darkness, deep and chilling darkness, was spreading through the Webway. A heavy sense of death pressed down upon this treasure trove of Eldar wisdom.
All the Harlequins felt a bone-chilling cold, as if their souls had lost the protection of their bodies, completely exposed to the icy wind.
Something twisted, immense, and invisible to mortal flesh was squeezing its way in from the Webway.
The Harlequins instinctively understood this.
And Alexander saw it even more clearly.
He saw, in that seemingly present and absent darkness, countless swirling, flowing circuits coiling, intersecting, and streaming in the void.
Within these circuits were innumerable Eldar souls, perpetually circling in a loop, like ghosts caught in a never-ending maze.
All emotions, wills, and spirits converged into one in this gyre, forming an intense longing.
A longing for true death, a longing for revenge against Slaanesh, a longing for the annihilation of everything.
All these wills swirled together, billions of contorted faces snarling with the same hatred and pain, forming an unnameable monster.
That was the Eldar God of Death, Ynnead.
"It actually dragged the true body over," Cegorach frowned slightly.
Ynnead's true form was hidden deep within the Eldar's infinite circuits. Just as Cegorach rarely allowed himself to leave the Black Library, Ynnead almost never allowed his still-incomplete true form to leave the infinite circuits.
Generally speaking, the one who acted on Ynnead's will was...
The death-monster named Ynnead twisted its body. Brilliant, soul-composed flames condensed in the void into a chilling figure.
That figure had white hair like death itself, a blue and cold face, ethereal and slender, hermaphroditic. In one hand, it held the old crone sword, "sword of souls, vilith-zhar," and in the other, it held a pure gold symbol representing the God of Death.
Incarnie, the initial product of Ynnead's birth, the avatar of the God of Death.