Chapter 345: Emperor Boy |
"The Old Ones' third treasure?"
Urg scratched his head. His fingertips popped a festering sore on his scalp, and with a squelch, it erupted into a massive fountain of thick pus.
Though he didn't particularly like the rubbish thing, merging with its power had made him over ten times stronger than before.
And who would refuse another source of power?
The Old Ones' third treasure had to be unbelievably cool. Whatever it took, he was going to see it for himself.
"Argh, alright. I'll go take a look," he muttered. "Perfect time to challenge the yellow weasel and see what that big golden git is really made of."
Urg pulled out his enlarged Noisy Box and began roaring and hollering into it.
Every Chaos Ork fleet under Urg's command simultaneously set course for Terra.
A few days later, the Chaos Orks began arriving in Terra's solar system.
Operating on the fundamental principle that "Orks hate humies," Urg opened with his ultimate trump card.
"You there, and you lot over there! Drag out our Rotten Big Booms and launch 'em all!"
"Boss, the Rotten Big Booms are way more kickass than the humies' Cyclonic Torpedoes. We've got thirty thousand of 'em. You want us to launch every single one?"
"Bullshit! Did you not hear what I just said?!" Urg hoisted his chief mekboy into the air, glaring into the Ork's pea-sized eyes as he roared, "Hurry up and fire the Rotten Big Booms! I'm gonna spread that toxic gas all over this system! Go! And tell the fleets coming up behind us not to do anything else until they've fired all their big booms too! We fight the humies after that! You hear me?!"
"Yes, yes, boss!"
The mekboy was thrown aside, hitting the deck with a heavy thud. If it weren't for the cushioning of his rocket boots, the fall would have killed him.
A short time later, the Chaos Ork ships around Terra dispersed. Instead of engaging the fleets of pointy-beak boyz, humie soldiers, and cogboys, they focused entirely on launching the big booms.
In just half an hour, several natural celestial bodies and dozens of artificial space structures within the Terran system were enveloped by the psionic energy glow of the Rotten Big Booms.
Forge worlds, massive logistics stations, gargantuan military fortresses, sprawling spaceports...
Any celestial entity large enough to be blanketed by at least one big boom received the Chaos Orks' baptism.
Take a good look, chaos! This was the right way to siege Terra!
Compared to the Chaos Orks, the Horus Heresy was nothing more than child's play.
What? If they bombed everything with big booms, wouldn't they miss out on eating the humies' corpses and souls?
Please.
The galaxy was vast, and the Terran system's population barely accounted for one percent of the total.
Once Terra was dealt with, the yellow weasel killed, and the humies' elite fighting forces wiped out, the remaining ninety-nine percent of the population would be an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Surely chaos wasn't oblivious to something so simple. Surely not.
"Boss, some little runt named Horus wants to challenge you."
The voice echoed from the Noisy Box.
Urg tore his gaze away from the spectacular bombardments and picked up the box, asking, "And what's this Horus's deal?"
"He says he's the Warmaster of the Shrimp Empire, second strongest fighter they've got. He wants a one-on-one duel with you. If he wins, we stop bombing Terra."
"And if he loses?" Urg asked.
"Uh... he didn't mention that bit."
Urg's mouth twitched into a grin, highly amused by the humies' sick sense of humor.
"Tell Horus that if he loses, I'm gonna eat him!"
"You got it, boss." The Noisy Box went silent for a moment. "Boss, he agreed. He said to wait in low orbit right above the Imperial Palace of Terra. He's gonna teleport onto our ship and fight you."
"Alright, this humie's got guts!"
The Wolf Blade departed the bombarded, pulverized moon, using sub-light speed to position itself directly above the Imperial Palace of Terra, roughly 310 kilometers from the surface.
Looking down at the ground from this altitude, Urg felt somewhat dissatisfied.
He had dropped the most big booms on this planet, but that golden lump of an Imperial Palace was like a stubborn stain—no matter how much he bombed it, it just wouldn't break. It genuinely irritated the Ork Warlord.
"I fink that once I crush the yellow weasel's head, the shield protecting the palace will disappear. Then, I'll launch a big boom myself and blow this place to kingdom come."
Urg fantasized excitedly, feeling a violent surge of electromagnetic turbulence behind him.
He turned to look. An electromagnetic storm materialized in the open space, and several figures boarded the Wolf Blade via the teleportation devices built into their Terminator armor.
The man leading them was a towering, bald figure with a resolute face, a gleaming golden wolf pelt draped over his broad shoulders.
He was flanked by several other humies in shiny armor. From the looks of them, they were also primarchs or something.
"Well then, Horus. You wanted to fight, and I agreed. I lowered the shields to let you teleport in, but you brought a bunch of lackeys along?"
Urg stared down at Horus and the others, who barely reached his ankles, and let out a booming laugh.
"Hahaha! Good, very good! You alone wouldn't have been enough to fill me up, but with all these guys, I can have a proper feast! Bwahahaha!"
The intense soundwaves rippled outward like the shockwave of a nuclear blast. The floor, the ceiling, the walls—everything vibrated violently with his laughter.
The primarchs clamped their hands over their ears in pain, staring dumbfounded at the fifty-meter-tall behemoth.
This was a fucking Ork?!
Intel had stated that Urg was roughly twenty meters tall!
This was twenty fucking meters?!
What kind of idiot wrote that intel? How could they be so disastrously wrong?!
"Brothers, I know this battle will be arduous, but we must face this xenos together," Horus roared over the internal comms channel.
"Terra lies behind us! We must defend it and protect our Emperor! We have to buy Him enough time to suppress the demons of the Webway! We don't need to defeat Urg today—if we just hold out long enough, the Emperor will surely come to our rescue! Kill!"
With a bellowing war cry, Horus charged forward, swinging his massive axe directly into Urg's ankle.
It was a ferocious strike capable of cleaving through an adamantium shield, yet it merely produced a sharp clang, sending a shower of sparks flying.
Perturabo, Jaghatai Khan, Ferrus Manus, Mortarion, and Vulkan followed Horus's lead, encircling Urg and weaving around his massive form.
Urg stood completely still. The corners of his mouth curled into a mocking sneer.
"Amusing humies. I'm gonna have some fun playing with you lot."
Live footage of the battle was broadcast back to the Imperial Palace of Terra via combat recorders.
High upon the Golden Throne, the God-Emperor (The Emperor) kept his eyes shut tight, pushing his psionic energy to the absolute limit to protect the Golden Gate against the surging tide of the demon army.
The sector of the Webway housing Calasta had completely fallen. Beyond the Golden Gate lay the boundless, shifting expanse of The Warp.
Every single second, hundreds of billions of demons threw themselves in a frenzied assault against the Golden Gate.
The God-Emperor (The Emperor) had to expend every ounce of his strength just to keep them at bay.
The God-Emperor's (The Emperor's) body began to convulse as two entirely distinct forces clashed within him.
In a flash of brilliant light, a golden figure—the embodiment of the God-Emperor's power—was violently expelled from his body.
The Emperor regained sole control over the physical form seated upon the throne.
The God-Emperor spoke.
"Do not resist my power."
The Emperor replied.
"Save your power for your own era."
The God-Emperor said.
"The Eldar wish to destroy your hopes for the future, to plunge you into despair so you will become the vessel for the Dark King."
The Emperor answered.
"I know. But compared to me, are you not far better suited to be the Dark King's vessel? The Great Rift has split the Imperium of Man in two, leaving over half of its population and territory stranded forever in the Imperium Nihilus. You interfere so painstakingly with my era simply to siphon its resources and enrich your own time. How are your actions any different from those of the Eldar?"
The God-Emperor said.
"The difference is that by borrowing my power, you will avoid becoming the Dark King's vessel. You will not have to tread my path."
The Emperor stated.
"I have already prepared myself to become the vessel. I will cooperate with the Eldar to seal away the Dark King and perish alongside this sub-universe. Consequently, you will shed the humanity of your age of rebellion and draw ever closer to becoming a True God."
The God-Emperor asked.
"Are you certain you are prepared for this?"
The Emperor replied.
"I am."
The God-Emperor nodded.
"Then let us begin."
The God-Emperor approached the throne, while The Emperor stood up from it.
The God-Emperor took his seat, taking over the burden of suppressing the Golden Gate in The Emperor's stead.
The Emperor's withered, skeletal frame swelled with muscular vitality. Golden armor enveloped his body, and his appearance was restored to that of a robust, middle-aged man clad in gold.
The two Emperors (The God-Emperor) from different eras met each other's gaze and gave a solemn nod.
The Emperor's figure flickered, and a split second later, he appeared beside the throne aboard the Wolf Blade.
Perturabo had been cleaved vertically in half, skewered on the iron spikes behind the Chaos Ork Warlord's throne.
Jaghatai Khan's head dangled from the handlebars of a greenskin warbike.
All that remained of Ferrus Manus was an unchewable segment of a metallic spine.
Chunks of Mortarion's flesh bubbled and roiled in a boiling cauldron.
Vulkan was strung up on a roasting spit, with a grot slicing meat off his abdomen strip by strip for barbecue.
But the worst fate belonged to Horus.
The Chaos Ork Warlord had flayed his skin to use as a seat cushion, ripped out his bones for decorations, and tossed the rest into a meat grinder to be churned into patties.
When The Emperor arrived, Urg was holding a burger made from Horus and Vulkan, with a bowl of thick mushroom soup resting nearby, Mortarion's head bobbing in the broth.
"Oh, the yellow weasel. You finally made it." Urg devoured the burger in two bites, chugged the entire bowl of soup in one gulp, and let out a booming belch as he stood up.
"Come on, then. Let's get to fightin'."
Urg rubbed his giant hands together eagerly, his heavy footsteps shaking the deck as he descended from his throne.
The Emperor's gaze swept over the dismembered remains of his sons, profound sorrow pooling in his eyes.
"Urg. I should have killed you the very first time I discovered you."
"Oops, what a shame. Too bad you can't kill me now. Pretty soon, you're gonna regret it even more." Without another word, Urg launched a punch, his massive fist bearing down on the yellow weasel like a collapsing hill.
A deafening boom echoed.
The massive iron fist slammed into the floor, sending a web of cracks spidering outward. The strike was so devastating that it caved in the ceramite plating, leaving a crater over three meters wide.
The Emperor flashed out of the way, reappearing a hundred meters in the air to stare down at Urg.
Golden lightning coalesced in his palm.
But before he could unleash the bolts, Urg raised both arms high and made a vicious tearing motion with his hands.
A harsh crackle split the air.
The psionic energy readings spiked violently. The air around The Emperor was physically torn apart by Urg's telekinesis, creating a pocket of absolute zero vacuum.
The golden lightning destabilized, wild arcs scattering uncontrollably through his fingers.
The Emperor swung his arm, firing the barrage. The golden orbs closed the distance to Urg in an instant, only to be intercepted by a void shield that materialized out of thin air.
"Haha! Yellow weasel, you can't even scratch me!" Urg barked a contemptuous laugh. He slapped his hands together above his head, interlacing his fingers into a double-fist before yanking downward with tremendous force.
Alpha-class telekinesis hooked onto the vacuum prison, treating The Emperor like a bird locked in a cage.
Guided by Urg's motion, the vacuum prison plummeted toward the ground, dragging The Emperor down with it.
Urg cocked his arm back and threw a crushing punch, aiming his rock-hard knuckles directly at the falling Emperor.
The Emperor struggled within the vacuum prison, shocked to realize that even channeling all his power wasn't enough to break free.
A deafening boom echoed.
A sickening crunch followed.
The golden figure collided head-on with Urg's giant fist. A ring-shaped shockwave blasted outward, gouging deep fissures into the distant walls.
A thick mist of blood exploded from The Emperor upon impact, and he was sent hurtling backward even faster than he had fallen.
"Haha! So this is all the humies' Emperor amounts to! I should've come to chop you up ages ago!"
Once again, Urg locked his hands into a double-fist and yanked downward.
The vacuum cage seized The Emperor and hurled him back into Urg's waiting knuckles.
A rapid succession of deafening blows shook the chamber.
The Emperor was mercilessly pummeled back and forth, beaten like a helpless punching bag.
His body rapidly caved in. His bones snapped inch by inch, and his muscles were ground into a bloody paste by the unimaginable force.
One final, deafening crash echoed.
Urg delivered one final, staggering punch, sending The Emperor flying before reeling him right back with telekinesis—straight toward his gaping maw.
A heavy gulp echoed.
Urg swallowed The Emperor whole. Without putting up the slightest resistance, the golden figure slid straight into the Ork's stomach.
"Haha, I wonder how much power eating the yellow weasel raw is gonna give me."
Urg turned toward his throne. He had barely taken a few steps before he felt a terrifying surge of psionic energy brewing inside him.
He stopped dead in his tracks, clutching his stomach.
Pitch-black mist violently spewed from his mouth, nose, and ears. A few seconds later, every pore on his colossal body began venting the same dark fog.
Mere seconds after that, Urg started rapidly bloating. His flesh and skin were ripped open by pulses of black light.
"Uh-oh... got an upset stomach."
Urg let out a miserable wail right before exploding with an earth-shattering boom.
A torrential rain of blood and shredded meat splattered across the chamber. The boyz and grots scattered across the floor were pulverized into dust by the shockwave. Deep, expanding shear-marks carved into the deck, while the hall's walls and ceiling ballooned outward like an overinflated tire.
A pitch-black sun slowly rose near the throne, exuding a suffocating aura of death and absolute destruction.
The black sun expanded outward, layer by layer, as if intent on devouring everything in existence.
Just then, the God-Emperor's power descended. Blinding, icy-cold golden light unspooled into tens of thousands of radiant threads that bound the black sun tight, wrenching it forcefully inward.
Seconds later, both the black sun and the golden light vanished. The Emperor's silhouette shifted from ethereal back to solid, and he crashed clumsily onto the deck.
He braced himself against the floor with both hands, gasping frantically for air, his face twisted in unbearable agony.
'Hurry. Get up. Return to the Imperial Palace of Terra. Take the throne. Suppress the Golden Gate. Use the Stasis Field and the Eldar rituals to seal away the Dark King's will inside my body!'
The Emperor dragged himself to his feet. He had barely begun channeling a teleportation spell when a green phantom materialized directly in front of him.
The green phantom lunged its right arm forward, piercing The Emperor's chest with lightning speed. It closed its ghostly fingers around his heart and squeezed.
Every last drop of the erupting viscera and blood was absorbed into the green phantom.
"Analyzing, converting..." the green phantom murmured.
The Emperor stared back in horrified disbelief.
"Converting, coalescing..."
"Coalescing, reconstructing..."
"Reconstructing, replacing..."
The green phantom gradually morphed into the exact image of The Emperor, a chillingly eerie smile stretching across its lips.
"Yellow weasel. Your throne, your Imperium, and that lingering will of the Dark King inside you... they all belong to me now. Rest easy. I will reshape this Warhammer universe myself."
The green phantom clenched its right hand. The Emperor violently detonated from the inside out. As the black sun emerged from the ruined remains, the phantom snatched it and shoved it directly into its own chest.
Wearing The Emperor's skin and bearing the Dark King's will, the green phantom teleported back to the Golden Throne, coming face-to-face with the God-Emperor and the pansies, who were staring right back at him.
"Piss off, false emperor. From this moment on, I am the Master of Mankind. And you pathetic insects who put your faith in destiny—crawl back and be good little dogs for The Old Ones. Keep your noses out of my business."
The green phantom reached forward with both hands and gave a gentle squeeze.
The God-Emperor on the throne, alongside the pansies who had fully prepared themselves for self-sacrifice, were crushed by the green phantom. Powerless to resist, they dissolved into motes of dust drifting through the air.
The green phantom took his seat upon the throne and activated the Stasis Field, becoming an eternal, immutable statue.
Though he presented himself in the exact likeness of The Emperor, the finer details of his face bore a striking resemblance to Lino's true features.
