As the Lord of Change spoke, the Warp performed a dizzying, stomach-churning magic trick. Tzeentch, with a flick of his wrist, pulled the golden sun deep into the heart of the Sea of Souls. When the universe righted itself, the landscape had changed entirely. The Chaos Gods and their brave, new guest stood at the junction of the four divine domains.
This place was no longer a desolate wasteland. It was now a monument to the endless and insane rivalry of the Ruinous Powers.
Khorne's domain was a massive war fortress, a brutalist monument to violence forged of brass, with rivers of molten lava pouring down its sheer walls. Daemon engines chugged and groaned through the smoke, and Khorne's Greater Daemons trained their armies, ready to prove their god's might through war at a moment's notice.
Opposite this metal monstrosity was Tzeentch's lair: a fully transparent labyrinth that twisted reality and made a mockery of space and time. A demon lord with a name as long as an eon chanted ancient incantations, and mysterious whispers slithered through the corridors, turning the seemingly fragile walls into an impenetrable fortress of pure magic.
Slaanesh's territory was a swirling, pink haze, with the sound of decadent, thumping music thrumming in the air. Thorned spires pierced the sky, where pleasure and torment coexisted in a twisted ballet. In the exquisitely corrupted palaces, Slaanesh's dancers moved with a languid grace, performing an endless, seductive dance for their Dark Prince.
Finally, there was Nurgle's Garden. It was a place of surprisingly peaceful, if disgusting, harmony. Twisted, pulsating tree trunks stood in the swampy ground, and the decaying grass sang in a low, gurgling tone. Maggots and plagues squirmed in the mud while Nurgle's jovial Daemons chased each other with carefree laughter. The bloated, rotting Great Unclean One, his belly split with a putrid gash, shook off dead flies with every hearty laugh.
The air was so thick with tension you could cut it with Khorne's axe. The armies of the four gods stood at attention, eyeing each other, each waiting for a single reason to erupt into a chaotic, glorious battle.
And in the middle of it all, a single tower stood tall. It was eight hundred and eighty-eight meters high, a brass monument to shared vanity. Its body was a tapestry of joyous and tormented limbs, and it was wrapped in ghastly green, glowing branches. The top of the spire, a brass-cast eight-pointed star, held a flickering blue psychic flame. In the fire, the red soul of the Doom Slayer floated, serene and untouched.
The tower was a joint project, a monument to their shared greed. Over the eons, the red soul had absorbed the Warp's energy, growing in power until it far surpassed the strength of even the Greater Daemons, reaching a demigod level of power.
As the wills of the Four Gods descended, the thousands of demons knelt, holding their monstrous power in check. "Our Gods are here!" they shouted in unison.
The Chaos Gods ignored them.
Khorne, with a rare flash of his true form, rose from his Skull Throne and glared at Tzeentch. "What are you trying to pull? This wasn't part of the human's deal."
Tzeentch gave his signature, conniving grin. Without a word, he sent a telepathic message to the other Gods. "We've spent countless years trying to unlock its secrets with no success. But with this human's deal, my wisdom has foreseen a new path."
"What path?" Nurgle grumbled, clearly annoyed by the unpredictability.
"When the soul leaves the Warp and is once again endowed with 'humanity' by this mortal, its perfect purity might develop a weakness. A human with immense power? A demigod walking in the mortal universe? They are simply our sustenance." The Lord of Change's voice was a silky whisper of pure evil as he revealed his plan. To them, the golden human was just another tool, another cog in the machine. He was the "protagonist" of a new cycle in the Great Game, a new toy to be broken.
The Gods whispered amongst themselves, and then, satisfied, they all nodded.
"I agree," Khorne said, a glint of cunning in his eye. He was a War God; he could easily seize control of any future events.
"Agreed," Nurgle said, a small smile on his face. He hated change, but at the end of all things, change was a necessity. He would simply wait at the end of the road to claim his victory.
"I also agree" Slaanesh said, their voice laced with pure pleasure. They were the "youngest" of the gods, but they were confident in their ability to corrupt anything.
With their own schemes in place, the Four Gods added a new clause to the deal and presented it to the Master of Mankind. The Gods' wills became one as they spoke. "Human, sign it with your soul; do not attempt to betray it."
The golden sun looked at the demigod soul in the tower, a flicker of surprise in its gaze. How had the soul of one mortal managed to unite the Four Gods in a single, collective purpose? He had no time to ponder; humanity was waiting for its salvation.
"I agree," he sighed, and with that, he left a piece of his essence on the scroll.
"Hahahahahaha…" The transaction complete, the Chaos Gods roared with laughter, their unhinged mirth echoing through the Warp as they left the frontier.
The golden sun waited in place as the Four Gods used their supreme power to find their payment. The Sea of Souls churned and exploded as they hunted down demigods hiding in the Warp.
Demigods. They were unique beings, reflections of the Warp itself, but subservient to the Four Gods. They were the waves to the Four Gods' continents, constantly probing for new boundaries. Now they were prey. The power of the Four Gods was like a cold bucket of water on a pot of boiling oil, forcing the demigods out of hiding.
Khorne, clad in brass armor, simply looked out from his throne. With a single, mighty strike, he shattered the essence of a demigod, erasing its consciousness and leaving behind a pure soul, a "divine spark."
Tzeentch, a master of magic, sat suspended in the void. His fingers moved with lightning speed, stirring up blue flames that refined the demigod's will, burning away its identity.
Slaanesh moved with a graceful, elegant motion, piercing the Warp with their rapier and neatly plucking a divine spark from the tip of their blade.
Nurgle, meanwhile, was less elegant. He scooped a screaming demigod into his cauldron with a giant ladle. When he pulled it out, it was a pure divine spark.
"Enough!" Tzeentch said, five divine sparks in his palm. "The deal requires twenty. Any more would upset the stability of the Sea of Souls."
"Hmph. I am not yet satisfied," Khorne snorted, but he tossed out his five divine sparks. The others followed suit, and a total of twenty divine sparks floated before Tzeentch. The Four Gods had done their part.