Time flew.
The extraction took even longer than expected; a few years slipped by.
Gradually, a twisted halo surfaced on Fulgrim's chest—a shimmering of countless colors, now blood-red, now venom-green, now shadow-purple, now bone-white.
This was the Chaos divinity made manifest. No longer a vague concept, it was forced from the host and condensed into substance under the power of six mighty beings.
Fulgrim felt unimaginable pain. His soul and flesh were being torn apart—as if ten thousand hands were pulling his spirit to pieces.
"Ahhh! No—Father, I was wrong! Forgive me! Spare me!" Fulgrim screamed.
He tried to soften his father's heart, to stop the torment. Moments ago he had been defiant, but when he truly tasted inhuman agony, he broke completely.
The proud Phoenix cast aside all pride and begged his father, the Emperor of Mankind, for mercy.
"Fulgrim, if you'd known this day would come, why choose that path? You betrayed me without a word. Why beg now?" the Emperor snorted. Perhaps he would pity other sons—but not this one.
"Save your breath, Fulgrim. You're dead today—Jesus himself couldn't save you," Rhodes sneered, increasing the pressure.
"Ahem!" The Emperor suddenly coughed hard. Why did Rhodes have to mention Jesus?
That was one of his old disguises!
"Ahhh—no! Father, it hurts too much—end me! Kill me!" Fulgrim howled, desperate for death to release him from ultimate pain. This was torment of both soul and flesh.
"You think this is torment, Fulgrim? I have sat upon the Golden Throne for ten thousand years.
"Every day, every hour, I endure this very agony—body and soul. At first, I could barely continue.
"But for my beloved species—for all mankind—I clenched my teeth and endured. Even as my flesh decayed, I did not give up," the Emperor said coldly.
On the subject of pain, of dual agony of body and soul—who had more authority than he?
It seemed the extraction weakened Fulgrim's soul. Let the pain continue.
Traitor—you deserve this retribution. It is your earned punishment.
Fulgrim could no longer scream—his vocal cords were torn. His soul's wail echoed through the Warp.
On the Cosmic Beast world, Aisha sensed that Rhodes and the Emperor had begun the extraction. Without hesitation, she stopped suppressing her Chaos divinity and expelled it intact.
Over several years, she transmitted the last of her primal Chaotic power across.
The dying, enervated Fulgrim suddenly revived—a new force entering him. It was a complete Chaos divinity, though part of his own had already been stripped out.
He had gained a complete divinity—yet somehow had not.
The Chaos divinity had become a tangible thing—indescribable in words.
It was like a transparent halo, like a blazing sphere, like a miasma of evil—a living avatar of Chaos power.
For the first time in realspace, a Chaos divinity appeared in tangible form. It had no fixed shape, but under the Emperor's Dark King power and the light-and-dark of the Ao cosmos, it now showed itself.
"Emperor, that's the Chaos divinity. We've already pulled part of it out—push a little harder and the whole thing comes free," Rhodes said excitedly.
Without the Emperor, this would have been impossible.
The Emperor nodded and poured on more power, further wrenching the divinity from Fulgrim.
Had he imagined it? It felt like Fulgrim's inner Chaos divinity had just increased.
The halo born of the divinity struggled more fiercely, trying to dive back into Fulgrim or escape into the void.
It tore at the barrier of reality to flee into the Warp. The upheaval was so great that the Angel Zog and the Alien Empera coughed blood, even though the Emperor bore most of the pressure.
Were he not, Rhodes's subordinates would already have collapsed. One could imagine how strong a Chaos god's divinity was.
Isha's palms glowed green as she poured life-force into the Angel Zog and the Alien Empera to stabilize them.
"Focus—we're close."
They all nodded and increased their power again, pinning down the divinity's attempt to flee.
The Emperor's psychic force became a golden giant hand that clamped the halo tight.
Rhodes's golden-red energy wrapped over it like molten lava, further weakening its resistance.
Isha's life-force became a surgeon's blade, severing the divinity's last link to the host, while the other three crushed its rebellion with their power.
…
In the Warp, a titanic tempest rose, ripping the Sea of Souls.
All Slaaneshi daemons howled in agony—as if their very existence were being erased.
This horrific scene alarmed the other Chaos gods.
In his garden, bloated Nurgle raised his head. The disastrous defeat in the Plague War had humiliated him. Though he lost many greater daemons and daemon princes, he himself was fine.
Such servants could be remade with a wave. Emperor of Man, I will not spare you.
What was happening to Slaanesh? Why did it feel like Slaanesh was about to vanish?
On the Brass Throne, Khorne also sensed the anomaly. If the one suffering was Slaanesh, he would laugh—someone was helping him win the Eternal War by annihilating his greatest foe.
In a blue fortress shrouded in mist, Tzeentch let out sharp cries.
The Changer of Ways perceived a new variation in the universe—one beyond his control. Slaanesh's divinity was in serious trouble.
The three Chaos gods focused together, then found the source: the heart of the Imperium—Holy Terra, the Imperial Palace.
"Damn human Emperor—what trick is he playing? Wasn't he allied with Slaanesh?" Khorne growled.
"I don't know why, but Slaanesh's divinity seems to be getting stripped out by some power," Tzeentch said.
"Hahaha, that's good news for me. I've always wanted that one dead. Everything they represent stands against me," Khorne said.
They were mortal enemies. Slaanesh's suffering always delighted him.
"This could also be the Emperor's plot. We should go look—see what's happening," Nurgle said.
From Holy Terra, he felt a different power—the primal force of life.
It was his most yearned-for—his beloved Isha's aura—tender life.
"I've no interest in wading into that mess. It does me no good," Khorne said.
He preferred to amass strength and cooperate with Vashtorr, then repay the Emperor for the setback at Vigilus.
"I sense something amiss. We should see what's going on. Whatever the Emperor is doing, we must stop it," said the Changer.
Lately, unease gnawed at him. The Emperor must be enacting some grand design, and somehow it concerned the Chaos gods. If they did nothing, a disaster would unfold.
As they debated, Vashtorr—master of life, forging, and fusion—appeared.
"We must find a way to open a daemon gate on Holy Terra and send legions through. We must stop the Emperor—no matter what."
This was a rare opportunity—perhaps his chance to become the fifth Chaos god—or the fourth.
He had monitored Holy Terra, and during Vigilus he discovered Abaddon had been swapped. Coupled with current events on Terra and the violent Warp tremors, he made a bold guess: the Emperor was stripping the Chaos divinity out of Fulgrim. If a divinity suddenly lacked a master, his chance would come.
But his apotheosis needed the other three to help—at least to draw the eyes of the Emperor and the human called Rhodes.
The extraction could last decades. He would use the time to collect the keys—this was a once-in-a-millennium chance.