Nurgle, the Plague God, let out a booming belly laugh that shook the foundations of his rotting mansion. The cosmic sound of his mirth rattled the flies swarming around his enormous, diseased body, causing maggots to rain down into the colossal cauldron he was stirring. It was a good day, indeed, for his chief rival was hurting.
"Perhaps this is a rare joy in the endless void?" a seductive, gender-neutral voice purred, like a silk ribbon on a gentle breeze.
Pink mist and the scent of intoxicating perfume billowed through the air as Slaanesh, the Dark Prince and Lord of Pleasure, arrived. One by one, the wills of the Chaos Gods gathered in Tzeentch's domain, drawn by the scent of his weakness like sharks to blood.
Tzeentch, meanwhile, sat cross-legged and calm as an abyss, his many eyes taking in the scene. He gave a smug little smile as his Lords of Change gathered around him, their staves creaking in their claws. The last time this happened, their master broke his own staff. What would happen this time?
In a hoarse, crackling voice, Tzeentch finally broke the silence. "A soul erupted from the Well of Eternity... and it harmed me."
The Gods' mocking grins vanished, their gazes zeroing in on the red, translucent soul Tzeentch held in his withered hand. Their expressions became deadly serious. While the power of the Four Gods ebbed and flowed with mortal events, their might was still comparable. A soul capable of harming Tzeentch was a soul that could harm any of them.
"Lies! It's another trick," Nurgle said with contempt, convinced this was just another one of Tzeentch's elaborate schemes to mess with them.
"Hand it over," Khorne growled, his voice a tidal wave of pure rage. He could feel the bottomless fury within the soul and knew it was meant for him. The blood clouds at the edge of his realm thickened, ready to snatch it by force.
Slaanesh said nothing, simply observing the pure, untainted soul with an almost ravenous interest. Far away in his pleasure palace, their true form licked its lips, eager for a taste of this delicious, mysterious prize.
Tzeentch, outwardly composed, was cackling with glee on the inside. He tossed the soul into the churning Warp with a dramatic flourish. "It's yours."
The Warp immediately erupted into a chaotic storm as the three Chaos Gods lunged for the prize. Their wills turned into writhing tentacles and razor-sharp nets, thrashing through the Sea of Souls as they raced to claim the faint red light.
Perhaps it was a perfectly executed scheme, but the wills of all three Chaos Gods touched the soul at almost the exact same moment.
"Tzeentch! Do you want to start another war?!" Khorne roared in a rage that was tempered by a searing pain. The moment his will touched the soul, it felt as if it were on fire. He was absolutely furious.
Slaanesh and Nurgle were no better off. The Prince of Excess gave a joyful moan, reveling in the exquisite pain, while Grandfather Nurgle grunted, enduring the torment that reached deep into his very essence.
The Lord of Change secretly smirked as the mouths on his body began to repeat the same sentence in a light, sing-song voice. "My words were sincere, it is you who did not believe. You reap what you sow, so don't blame me." He had manipulated them without even resorting to a scheme. All four of them had been damaged, but since they all started from the same place, no one could truly mock the other.
"Hmph." After suffering a humiliating setback, Khorne decided his next act would be to plan a full-scale assault on Tzeentch's domain, but for now, there was something more important. The pure soul, whose origin was unknown, had begun to swell after absorbing the Warp energy from the three Gods' wills.
The Gods could pierce its soul with their gaze, but they couldn't see its true essence. It seemed to have completed a strange evolution, slowly beginning to absorb the free-floating power in the Warp without being corrupted by it. It remained a glowing red sphere, pure and flawless.
Tzeentch's amused smile faded. The Gods' gazes were once again focused on the soul, each waiting for a chance to strike. This soul absorbed energy without any cost and wasn't tainted by Warp power. It was an anomaly, and if they could unlock its secret or consume it, the power they could gain would be unimaginable.
"It now has the power of a low-level demon," Nurgle's voice boomed, reminding the Gods that time was of the essence. Nobody knew the soul's limits. The longer they waited, the more dangerous it would become. A "New God" might be born in the Warp.
"Put it in my domain," Slaanesh purred. "I will thoroughly enjoy the exquisite pain, and perhaps even conduct a little research."
"Get lost!" Khorne barked, his voice filled with pure contempt for his rival. He wasn't about to let that "harlot" defile the essence he was now claiming as his own. He and Slaanesh were natural opposites; he was the strict, disciplined warrior, while Slaanesh was an indulgent libertine. The Blood God's ultimate dream was to personally throttle that bitch Slaanesh.
"I have a suggestion," Tzeentch said, his mouths transforming into all-seeing eyes as his voice spoke from an unknown place.
"Fine," Khorne grunted.
"Fine," Nurgle said.
"Speak your lie," Slaanesh said, their voice laced with disdain.
The Lord of Change ignored the insult. "We can't unravel its essence now, so why not let it develop? We'll place it at the intersection of our four realms and watch it grow. Any developments, we will know immediately."
"I agree," Khorne said after a moment's thought. It was the only plan that made sense and didn't favor any one of them.
"I also agree," Nurgle added.
"Let me take it to the border," Slaanesh said impatiently, desperate to touch the red soul again and experience that extraordinary pain.
"Get lost!" Khorne roared again. He used a Warp storm to send the soul to the border of the four realms, claiming it as his own. His will was the first to leave, heading to the border to keep a watchful eye. One by one, the other Gods departed, and the Warp returned to a fragile peace.
Unaware of all this, Blazkowicz floated in a serene, thoughtless state. He had no idea that he was now the target of the four most powerful beings in the universe, and his soul was floating at the intersection of their domains, guarded by their armies of Greater Demons.
The Warp had fallen into a delicate, new balance because of him. The Chaos Gods suspected and guarded against each other, strengthening their borders to avoid losses. And the one who started it all was just calmly absorbing Warp energy, growing stronger every second.
Neither Blazkowicz nor the System knew it, but Warp time was as fickle as its gods. Due to an unforeseen hiccup, he hadn't actually arrived in the year 40K yet.