"The equally great Lord of Change sends a message to you. He uses me as His mouthpiece to propose a trade to you."
the Deceiver, still incomplete but with his consciousness and some memories restored, hovered in mid-air, looking with interest at the sorcerer before him.
The C'tan could sense something within this mortal's body that did not belong to the material world, something he utterly failed to comprehend.
But the Deceiver could not determine what it was, only able to guess, relying on his fragmented memories, that it was a Void God residing in another dimension.
"What could you and I possibly trade?"
the Deceiver questioned while circling in mid-air:
"You and I exist in two entirely different dimensions. I am the true Divine Lord of the material universe, existing since the very beginning of all dimensions, when all things had not yet cooled and everything existed in the form of energy. The energies that determined the laws of the material universe as they are today constitute me. I possess unrivaled authority in the material universe."
"As for your master, the so-called Lord of Change, He does not truly exist. He is merely a false god, standing precariously upon the waves stirred by the pathetic emotions of sentient beings, like a reflection in a mirror. When the person before the mirror walks away, your Divine Lord will vanish into the boundless tides. Your Divine Lord holds no authority in the material universe."
"Yet you shamelessly encroached upon the real universe, replacing truth with falsehood, order with chaos, and materialism with idealism, taking advantage of our broken state to make the world riddled with holes. A false god ascended from the corpses of the Old Ones, and you dare speak of cooperation with me?"
the Deceiver looked at the sorcerer before him.
He could sense that nothing the sorcerer said in the material universe was his own. It was the things hidden beneath the material universe that were speaking to the Deceiver through his body.
The Mouthpiece of Change, he was indeed just a mouthpiece.
"The Deceiver, Lord of Flowery Words, my master is as skilled in the art of language and negotiation as you are. Your sarcasm, threats, and posturing are meaningless to my master."
"The Lord of Change and you are kindred spirits, are we not equally fond of deception and chaos?"
"As for the conflict between reality and the Warp, this is meaningless to you."
"We have indeed invaded the material realm, eroding reality until it is riddled with holes, but what significance does this hold for you, in your broken state?"
"You are broken; the glory you once possessed is almost entirely lost. Your great authority in the material universe has waned."
"To become whole again, to reclaim your authority, is that not what you should be considering now?"
The Mouthpiece of Change's tongue moved almost as nimbly as the Deceiver's.
the Deceiver, however, scoffed: "Nine insignificant fragments wish to compel me to serve your master, Mouthpiece. Do you take me for a cheap Silent King?"
"This is merely a down payment, my dear The Deceiver. The Lord of Change's claws are spread throughout the entire galaxy; everything is within His plan."
"As long as you are willing to accept cooperation, my great master can make you whole again. A complete C'tan, you will possess supreme authority in the galaxy. No one in the material universe will be able to rival you."
The Mouthpiece of Change continued to speak glibly, smiling as he said:
"Furthermore, my master promises that in His grand plan, there will be a completely Warp-isolated dead zone in the galaxy, where only things of the material universe will exist, and all things of the Warp will recede. That will be a pure domain exclusively for you."
"And this also requires your cooperation."
"How utterly stingy, requiring me to do so many things, yet offering only this small down payment."
the Deceiver circled a few more times in the air, then plummeted to the ground like a blob of slime.
His form suddenly changed, becoming almost identical to the Mouthpiece of Change.
The C'tan mimicked the Mouthpiece of Change's expression, adopting a disdainful posture as he asked:
"What does your master need me to do?"
"My master needs you to deceive someone; He needs your voice to whisper in the ear of a cold monarch."
"This is originally what my master is most skilled at, but alas, that individual is completely isolated from the Warp, cold and soulless."
The Mouthpiece of Change bowed deeply and said:
"My master only needs you to do one thing."
"He needs you, as you did tens of thousands of years ago, to deceive and mislead the pathetic Silent King."
As soon as these words were uttered, the Deceiver, who had mimicked the appearance of the Mouthpiece of Change, paused for a moment.
Then he adopted a bored expression, as if this task was too simple, offering him no pleasure whatsoever.
"Utterly boring, but I retract my earlier words about your master being stingy."
"For such a simple task, your master is giving quite a lot."
"Alright, alright, tell me what your master wants me to do."
The old crone sword hummed.
In the Warp, within Slaanesh's boudoir, Fulgrim lay on a velvet bed, his white hair spread over his shoulders.
The intense stimulation brought by the old crone sword caused an unbearable pain in Fulgrim's soul. He reveled in this suffering and wept because of it.
He involuntarily drew the longsword that burned with unquenchable fire.
This sword was straight as a direct beam of scorching light, without the slightest curve, clean and straightforward, unlike Fulgrim's style.
This was the Flame Sword, forged by Ferrus for Fulgrim.
But Fulgrim did not know whether this was a replica he had created in a trance using Warp energies, or if it was truly the one Ferrus had gifted him.
Whenever he was alone, whenever he was in the dark, whenever no one was watching, Fulgrim would hold this sword before his eyes, gazing obsessively at the flowing flames, reminiscing about past friendship and love.
"Ferrus."
Fulgrim murmured:
"My Ferrus, my Ferrus…"
A strong sense of hallucination surged into Fulgrim's brain. His mind was filled with Ferrus' image.
But suddenly, amidst the chaos and hallucination, Fulgrim felt his body seemed to be changing.
He vaguely felt himself transform back into a human body, constrained within flesh and blood, as pure, beautiful, and arrogant as he once was.
He vaguely saw two Necron standing before him, whispering, while he himself was confined within a Static Field.
He also vaguely saw himself seemingly picking up a warhammer from somewhere… that was forgebreaker, he gripped forgebreaker tightly.
Fulgrim let out a sharp howl, both excited and pained, both angry and joyful, complex like human emotions.
"Fabius!!!" Fulgrim growled the name of the instigator of all this.
But just then, a dark shadow suddenly shot out from the gloom, simultaneously unleashing a Psyker lightning bolt from its sharp claws towards Fulgrim's face.
The dark shadow shot towards Fulgrim's serpentine body, grabbing the old crone sword embedded in Fulgrim's cloaca.
Splat! Crack! ————————