Chapter 90: The Architect's Wrath
The Crystal Labyrinth stretched across dimensions. The Master of Fate had wrought its impossible geometries from raw change itself. Reality bent to whim and paradox within his domain, where crystalline pathways shifted with each breath of mortal ambition.
Rainbow-hued spires reached toward a sky that showed different heavens to each observer. Here, beyond material constraints, deception took architectural form.
Passages carved from pure scheming burrowed through walls between the gods' domains. They linked the Ruinous Powers' realms in an ever-changing web of alliance and betrayal.
The labyrinth pulsed with accumulated hopes and fears of every mortal soul who had dared dream of transformation.
Lost wanderers drifted through crystalline corridors. Visions reflected in surfaces had fractured their minds, surfaces that showed not what was, but what might be.
Scholars and mages had sought forbidden knowledge and found their genius reduced to hollow shells that mumbled equations to infinity.
They had come seeking truth and found only madness wearing wisdom's mask.
Kairos Fateweaver strode through these twisted pathways. The Lord of Change's most favoured servant moved with purpose, his twin visages seeing past and future simultaneously while the present remained forever beyond his grasp.
Magic crackled around his form like captured lightning; he embodied change itself, the living incarnation of his master's will.
Yet even in this realm of eternal flux, something had wounded transformation's very heart.
A scar ran through the labyrinth's core, not a crack, but a deliberate slash that spoke of violence beyond mortal comprehension. The wound pierced all nine layers of the maze, reaching its deepest sanctum where even daemons feared to tread.
Kairos observed the damage. New crystal growth attempted to seal the breach, but healing came slowly, as if the labyrinth itself struggled to comprehend what had struck it.
The Greater Daemon knew his lord had faced something terrible beyond reality's veil and emerged... diminished.
"The Cursed One has grown beyond his ordained path," Kairos murmured, his twin voices creating harmonies of bright and terrible futures. "And in his defiance, the Changer of Ways finds strength."
The daemon lord had watched events unfold across the materium with obsessive interest. Initially, the Cursed had followed predetermined patterns, walking toward ascension along paths that ancient prophecies had carved in stone.
But something had shifted. The mortal had reached beyond his universe's barriers, grasping power from sources that should not exist.
This change brought both opportunity and peril. The Cursed One's deviation from fate's design had elevated Tzeentch above his eternal rivals, making the Lord of Change the mightiest among the four. Yet it also promised chaos beyond even the gods' ability to control.
Kairos ascended through passages that existed in seventeen dimensions simultaneously. The entity that awaited him defied description.
Tzeentch was change itself, given form or formlessness as the case required. Sometimes he appeared as a great bird whose feathers blazed with living flames, other times as writhing tentacles crowned with watching eyes. Today, he manifested as a towering figure of pure ambition, his gaze fixed upon realities beyond counting.
'Find them.'
The command bypassed mortal speech, arriving directly in Kairos's consciousness like a brand upon his soul.
The Cursed One has allies beyond his universe. Locate them.
Kairos's heads bowed in acknowledgement, past-sight and future-sight aligning briefly in perfect understanding.
Through their psychic bond, Tzeentch shared fragments of the recent battle, glimpses of a vast consciousness that had intercepted his tracking fragment, the conflict that followed, and the price he had paid for reaching into another reality.
The Lord of Change had not emerged victorious, but neither had he retreated empty-handed.
Even as his primary fragment died, he had seeded a smaller shard into the target universe. It would feed on that reality's changes, growing stronger with each alteration to destiny's design, until it could manifest as an avatar of its creator's will.
Tzeentch dismissed his servant with a gesture that rewrote local physics. Across the Crystal Labyrinth, Kairos began weaving plans within plans, preparing snares that would reveal the Cursed One's mysterious benefactors.
In the Imperial Palace, the returned Primarchs consulted chronometers with barely concealed wonder. Mere hours had passed in their native reality, though they had spent months in alien dimensions fighting wars across multiple universes.
Roboute Guilliman studied the temporal, his analytical mind cataloguing implications. "Time flows differently between realities," he observed, though the statement carried weight beyond academic curiosity.
The experience had fundamentally altered something within him, shifting his perspective until the galaxy's vast expanse seemed suddenly confined.
'The multiverse beckons, ' he thought, ambition kindling in his noble heart. 'Why should we limit ourselves to a single star-pattern when infinite realms await conquest?'
He was not alone in this revelation. Around him, his brothers processed their own transformations.
Angron's will to bring freedom has now found a new focus, no longer contained by a single reality's boundaries.
Sanguinius gazed at infinity with eyes that had seen beauty beyond even immortal comprehension.
Even Horus found his thoughts turning from their father's approval to horizons yet unexplored.
The Raven perched upon the Master of Mankind's shoulder observed these changes with keen interest.
"The journey proceeded adequately despite unexpected separations," the Raven commented, its voice carrying undertones of vast compressed experience.
"We have achieved the primary objective of expanding your understanding of what lies beyond. Remember well, against the vastness and cruelty that await humanity among the stars, Unity remains our greatest weapon against coming trials."
The creature paused, fixing Guilliman with an approving stare. "Only through cooperation can we hope to locate the finest fried tubers and fermented tomato preserves in existence."
"Indeed," Guilliman replied with utmost gravity. "For the most exquisite fried tubers and fermented tomato preserves, we shall endure any hardship."
The Raven nodded with satisfaction while the other Primarchs exchanged glances of barely concealed exasperation, trust Roboute to excel even at bootlicking.
After dismissing his gene-sons to contemplate their experiences, the Emperor turned his full attention to his diminutive advisor. Golden eyes, ancient beyond measure, fixed upon the Raven with expectant impatience.
"I believe you have something for me," the Master of Mankind stated, his psychic presence radiating gentle reproach.
The Raven adopted theatrical guilt. "Forgive the delay, brother. I prepared the rewards immediately upon our return."
Cosmic energy flowed between them, carrying knowledge that transcended normal understanding. Within the Emperor's consciousness, information arranged itself in patterns of devastating clarity.
[Gorr the God Butcher's predetermined fate altered. Acquired: All-Black Necrosword forging methodologies.]
[Temporal Variance Authority's predetermined fate altered. Acquired: Time Loom operational principles, Time Pad manufacturing specifications, Pruning Stick technology matrices.]
[Avengers' predetermined fate altered. Acquired: Iron Man armor specifications Mark I through LXXXV, Arc Reactor energy principles, Super Soldier Serum formulation.]
The Emperor absorbed each revelation, his superhuman intellect already envisioning applications.
"The Necrosword," he murmured, considering possibilities. "Armed with such weapons, the Anathema Psykana could harvest daemon-essence with unprecedented efficiency."
Temporal manipulation technology promised even greater advantages. The ability to edit timeline branches would grant the Imperium control over causality itself.
"A pity we could not secure unlimited energy generation," the Master of Mankind observed, his tone suggesting philosophical acceptance rather than genuine regret.
"The Infinity Stones possess such potential," the Raven acknowledged. "But their power remains bound to their native reality. Outside Marvel's cosmic structure, they become mere crystalline curiosities."
Raven tilted his head thoughtfully. "For now, we must intensify our search for Necron tomb worlds. Order the Crusade fleets to excavate every suspicious formation. What lies dormant beneath dead worlds may serve our energy requirements."
"Agreed." The Emperor's expression grew contemplative.
"This journey has transformed my sons beyond my ability to guide them through mere instruction. They must now learn through deed and battle. The time has come for them to join their Legions in the Great Crusade's vanguard."
"I agree with the deployment, but be cautious regarding the command authority," Raven interjected, voicing his warning.
"Military tribunals must accompany each Legion to ensure proper oversight. The Primarchs must never become warlords ruling through personal loyalty alone."
The Emperor considered this counsel, weighing ambition against necessity.
In the original timeline, allowing his sons complete autonomy had sown seeds of rebellion that later bloomed into civil war. The Legions served humanity and the Imperium first; personal loyalty to their Primarchs must remain secondary.
"Military tribunals will be dispatched for each Legion," he agreed. "They shall oversee disciplinary matters, officer appointments, and report directly to our council. The Primarchs will lead, but within proper Imperial structure."
Within days, the first wave of deployments began. Lion El'Jonson, Leman Russ, Angron, and Horus Lupercal received assignments to distant war zones, where the Great Crusade advanced against alien empires and human holdouts alike.
Each departed with their father's blessing and the Raven's amusing gifts of fires and saucces, carrying knowledge that transcended their native universe's boundaries.
Yet in the Crystal Labyrinth, Kairos Fateweaver wove schemes designed to exploit this very expansion of Imperial influence.
Change was coming, and with it, opportunities for the Ruinous Powers to extend their reach into realms previously beyond their grasp.
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