It had to be said that this bunch of Dark Eldar did possess a few tricks up their sleeves. To have been acting as pirates throughout the galaxy for so many years without being entirely eradicated by the Imperium was a feat no talentless race could accomplish.
Yet it was an undeniable fact that the Craftworld Aeldari were vastly superior to them.
Massive Commoragh was currently ablaze with roaring fires. Its spires collapsed one after another, and the Kabals were continuously systematically wiped out. The Aspect Warriors were more than just a little bit stronger than the Drukhari Kabalites, and they easily outnumbered them as well.
The outcome of this war had been set in stone right from the very beginning. It served as a blood oath of fealty, as well as an internal purge.
If this had been the past—where the God of Death had not been reawakened and the Eldar had not fractured—Cegorach wouldn't have even entertained this notion. After all, they were all of the same kin, and the Dark Eldar had always represented a backup plan.
But that was no longer an option. This moment of life-or-death survival left him no room to make alternative arrangements.
Fence-sitters and double-dealers could not survive under circumstances like these. Cegorach was indeed highly skilled in schemes, intrigues, lies, and backstabbing, but none of those would work right now.
The C'tan and the Old Ones had mutually assured each other's destruction in the past, allowing him to deceive and play tricks on the Outsider, because that particular star god was notoriously thick-headed to begin with. But the Emperor and Perturabo were entirely different beasts.
Furthermore, the Imperium of Man had already achieved unchallenged hegemony. Their homeworld remained intact, and their current might spanned across five entire galaxies!
They would only grow bigger and stronger; no one could stand in their way anymore.
Unless the Necrons completely reawakened—but even if they did, what of it?
Even if the Necrons won, where could the Eldar possibly run?
Could they rely on those soulless skeletal frames to show them mercy? Or could they hope to continue hiding inside the Webway, barely scraping by?
The Necrons were perfectly capable of entering the Webway!
By siding with humanity, the Eldar at least retained a sliver of hope. If humanity fell, then the Eldar would be left with absolutely zero chances.
The Necrons wouldn't reason with them. A bunch of lunatics who had long since succumbed to madness would only project null-zones upon any species with a soul, before peeling off their skins to drape over their own skeletal frames.
Even if they weren't infected with the Flayer Virus, they would still do it—Cegorach was one hundred percent certain of this.
The Eldar no longer had any hope. Their homeworld and former empire had warped into the Eye of Terror, and the Imperium had stationed a whopping ten Chapters there.
Every single Chapter was a collection of elites born out of the splitting of the original Legions.
Cegorach was the God of Tricks and Deception, but he was also the one who saw things the clearest.
The once-glorious Eldar Empire had granted him the leverage to swindle and deceive his way across the stars, but now, he had to shoulder this heavy banner.
There was no such thing as enjoying the benefits only to abandon all obligations and walk away.
"Isha, if you wish to leave, I will not stop you. Some Craftworlds have already fled beyond the boundaries of the Milky Way; you can follow them. You can tend to our kin just the same over there. I actually recommend that you leave."
"With you there, we will at least have a tiny spark of life preserved, and they will be able to live a bit better."
Cegorach had initially intended to bring Isha along with him, but he had abandoned that thought now. The sheer terror of the Imperium far exceeded his imagination.
If the Emperor and Perturabo were already at this level, then what of the other Primarchs?
The brutality toward xenos exhibited by the Lord of the Dark Angels and the Lord of the Space Wolves was known throughout the galaxy.
Would they share Perturabo's mindset of merely standing by to watch a show? Or would they directly swing their blades to butcher them the very moment they met?
Cegorach no longer expected to survive for long. A person like him—double-crossing, prone to backstabbing, highly deceptive, and possessing no small amount of power—would never be tolerated by any ruler, regardless of where he went.
Cegorach did not want Isha, who had finally been liberated with great difficulty, to sink back into a quagmire. It was deeply unfair to her.
She had already done enough; she didn't need to shoulder the rest.
"I will stay and endure this alongside you. They still need me."
Isha had no intention of putting on an act. Cegorach knew she had always been exceptionally kind-hearted, at least toward her own kin.
Cegorach could not sway his sister's resolve. She was incredibly stubborn—it seemed most people possessing this quality held fast to something they guarded fiercely, their convictions remaining unyielding to a point that verged on absolute obstinacy.
"Think it through carefully, do not act on impulse. Your survival ensures that our final spark lives a better life. By following us, you are highly likely throwing your life away. I cannot fathom the thoughts of the Lord of Iron and the Emperor at all; every step they take next is entirely unpredictable to me."
"I won't survive for long, Isha. They won't tolerate my existence. When that time comes, you will merely become a lamb to the slaughter. Even if Ynnead awakens, it will absolutely be no match for the Lord of Iron and the Emperor."
"We have enjoyed the adoration of our people for a very long time. If that moment must inevitably arrive, then this is our duty. I will not flee from this obligation like Asuryan or Khaine did."
Isha's stance remained resolute, though it was evident Cegorach did not favor this. It was highly likely an exercise in throwing her life away for nothing, an outcome Isha could have easily avoided.
Staying alive was truly what mattered most. Why did so many fools always fail to realize this?
The speed of the Aeldari slaughter was incredibly swift. Even though Commoragh was vastly immense, it still stood no chance against over a dozen Eldar Craftworlds.
Wraithknights and Titans rampaged across Commoragh, a place that was now destined to be completely reduced to ashes.
Countless Kabals attempted to flee the premises, but the Aeldari had completely locked down the area. Commoragh—the most insanely hedonistic, decadent, and fallen home in the galaxy—had transformed into their graveyard.
Yet the sheer tenacity of the Dark Eldar still defied everyone's expectations. Everyone had assumed this bunch of unbound, hedonistic bastards would collapse rapidly, but they genuinely caused immense trouble for the Aeldari during the urban trench-warfare phase.
Even with over a dozen Craftworlds participating in the conflict, this war dragged past ten days, lasting for an entire month. Neither Perturabo nor the Emperor won their wager.
"These white Eldar are just pathetic! They can't even deal with a handful of Dark Eldar after all this time. If we had deployed, it wouldn't even take ten days—we would have finished them off in five."
"Look at that, some slipped through the net and escaped. Were these pointy-ears raised on garbage? Don't they know a blockade ring is supposed to be tightened slowly? In my view, it's just—"
The Emperor was currently grumbling about the Craftworlders while simultaneously continuing his research.
"Drop it. I thought those Dark Eldar would leave behind some kind of hidden trump card, but it turns out there isn't a single scrap of legacy. And these white Eldar are so incompetent; even with Wraith-Titans deployed, they still haven't broken those Dark Eldar after all this time."
"An ancient race, my foot! The Old Ones must have been blind back then to choose such a bunch of superficial, useless wastes."
Perturabo operated four giant mechanical arms to mount a massive engine onto an Abyss-class battleship—this was his newly upgraded version of the Abyss-class.
It was faster, more heavily armored, incorporated greater quantities of Living Metal and Wraithbone, and was fitted with highly destructive heavy Gauss cannons. Every Chapter would subsequently be outfitted with this series of Abyss-class battleships.
"Even if this bunch of Eldar enters the Imperium, I feel their utility will be limited. Furthermore, they are more than capable of ruining things while accomplishing nothing. Allowing them in will probably just make them a burden. We might as well wipe them all out together," the Emperor remarked, looking over the fleets Perturabo had deployed from the Imperial Fists' parent Legion, the Black Templars, alongside three fleet detachments dispatched by the Deathwatch and Grey Knights respectively.
Originally, Perturabo had intended to see how things developed before either capturing them all in one fell swoop or enacting an Exterminatus on the Dark Eldar. But looking at the current situation, Cegorach and his followers' level of incompetence had shattered all expectations.
Over a dozen Craftworlds fighting a single Commoragh, and they couldn't take it down within a month—what use did the Imperium have for them?
All they offered was the ability to alter a planet's ecosystem, an operation that required years of accumulated labor to bear fruit anyway. Perturabo felt it was completely unnecessary to take in such a group of failures.
"Then I'll have Rogal and the others make their move. To think I held them in somewhat high regard before, only for them to disappoint me this heavily."
Within the Webway, the Imperial fleets that had been waiting in ambush for a long time began their advance, discarding all forms of concealment.
Thirteen Star Fortresses surged directly into the vanguard, ramming through everything with unparalleled momentum. Within three days, the Imperial fleets would descend upon Commoragh and utterly annihilate everything in existence.
Moving forward, not a single trace of Commoragh would remain, and the same would apply to these Craftworld Eldar.
The interior of the Webway would be thoroughly sanitized. The remaining disorganized remnants wouldn't be worth mentioning, and the Imperium would dispatch more Chapters into the Webway to perform maintenance and reconstruction.
"Hold on, wait."
The Emperor suddenly spoke up, stopping Perturabo.
"What is it?"
"Speaking of which, isn't there some God of Death about to awaken on the Eldar's side? What was it called again? Yn-something-ead?"
"What of it? At most, it replaces Slaanesh; the Chaos Eight-Pointed Star has no place for it. The moment it manifests, we'll execute it!"
"Do you still remember the prerequisites required to ascend to a position like that?"
"Emotions and souls, sufficient to stir an immense Warp storm before the new deity ascends, or else—"
"Are you saying that if these Eldar don't die out completely, this Ynnead won't be able to manifest?" Perturabo realized.
The Emperor nodded.
"Where would these Eldar get that many souls to awaken another God of Death—especially one capable of overpowering Slaanesh? The sole condition to achieve this is to forcefully trade their lives and Slaanesh's Warp essence to manifest this Yn-whatever deity."
"Cegorach has definitely dispatched some Craftworlds beyond the boundaries of the galaxy by now, hasn't he? Which means this God of Death is destined to be unable to manifest. So we don't actually need to preserve these Eldar."
"Wouldn't it be better to let this God of Death reawaken, so we can permanently eliminate a threat once and for all?"
Perturabo didn't quite comprehend what the Emperor was trying to accomplish.
"What do you think about using this bunch of Eldar to feed the Eleventh?"
The Emperor's words were striking, proposing an angle Perturabo had completely failed to anticipate.
"Using the Eldar to feed the Eleventh? Have you lost your mind?!"
"What does it matter? Rather than letting this bunch of Eldar die for nothing, it's better to let the Eleventh reclaim some semblance of human form. We can head into those Necron Dynasties and various parts of the galaxy to gather some C'tan shards, combine that with the gene-seed of your brothers, and I think the Eleventh still has a very high chance of returning."
"In the event that the Eleventh suffers some other chaotic mishap, trying to save him again will be nigh impossible. You lunatic—if you won't consider your sons, I still consider my brothers. Absolutely not!"
"Do you truly want the Eleventh to consume xenos just to turn back? If we actually did that, the rest of your brothers would have to put him down."
"I never intended that. The Eleventh must absolutely be saved in the end, but he absolutely cannot consume them."
"Then how do you intend to save him? You refuse this method as well."
"You've managed to engineer Primarchs and Custodes; are you telling me you can't even solve a genetic mutation like this?"
"Is this a regular mutation? This is a Primarch undergoing mutation, tangled with the Warp besides! If it were truly that easy to solve, would I have waited until now? The Second is already causing me a massive headache!"
"I don't care, we aren't doing it anyway. At worst, we'll spend ten thousand years saving them. If ten thousand years won't do, then twenty thousand. If twenty thousand won't do, then thirty thousand. You are a Perpetual; can you not afford this bit of time?"
"It isn't a matter of time at all. Forget it, let's drop it. Since you've put it that way, let's just proceed with the slaughter."
The Emperor didn't want to argue further. The risks of this proposal were indeed a bit too high; no one could say for sure what the Eleventh would ultimately turn into. It was better to slowly restore him through his own means.
"But now that you've put it that way, I'm actually somewhat disinclined to kill them now," Perturabo stated.
"Are you just trying to be difficult?!"
The Emperor was somewhat speechless. If he weren't currently outmatched in strength, he would have delivered a psychic backhand long ago.
"I want to assign Cegorach to the vicinity of a Necron Dynasty. You know about it, right? The former Silent King of the Necrons departed the galaxy, and he's right outside the Eastern Fringe. What do you say we plant this bunch of Eldar over there?"
"They share an ancient blood feud, and the Necrons are destined to be antagonistic toward species like ours anyway. We might as well let the Eldar serve as an early-warning system for us, and have those Craftworlds help us restore those planets while they're at it."
"Putting it that way, it's not entirely unfeasible. Well then, shall we give it a try? If it fails, we can kill them then?"
Just like that, a crisis of total xenocide dissolved during the casual conversation between the two men, treated almost like child's play.
When Rogal Dorn received the order, he slightly suspected he had misread it. Constantly altering military commands at the last minute was hardly a good sign.
Furthermore, none of the Chapters stationed here possessed mild temperaments. Their hatred for xenos could be considered the absolute highest among all Chapters. In the event that someone failed to hold back their blade, it would be hard to say what consequences would follow.
The arrival of the Imperial fleet clearly plunged all Eldar into complete despair. Whether they were Dark Eldar or Craftworlders, no one assumed this group of executioners was coming to negotiate with them.
Cegorach had already guessed it; this time, things were truly looking grim.
But immediately following that, a vox-transmission request came through, causing Cegorach's despondent mood to shift once more.
"Lord Dorn."
Cegorach wore a smile as bright and sycophantic as a blooming chrysanthemum on his face, causing Dorn to experience a wave of physiological discomfort.
If he could have his way, he truly wanted to use his phase-chainsword to grind these dregs into meat paste.
"See for yourself. These are the exact words of the Warmaster and the Emperor. If you can accept it, you can crawl away right now. If you cannot accept it, then stay and die alongside them—it won't be long before the other Craftworld Eldar head down to keep you company."
Dorn made no attempt to conceal his disgust, nor did he hide anything regarding their plan this time.
Their purpose here was to thoroughly sanitize the Webway. Not a single one of these xenos should expect to escape!
"Understood, understood. Rest assured, my Lord, we shall depart immediately, head to the designated locations to take root, and begin our lives anew."
Cegorach did not refuse the command. Even if they were being used as meat shields, at least there was still hope, and many of his people would be able to head to those planets to reshape the ecology. Come what may, it wouldn't lead to their total extinction.
Fortunately, they were still alive, which meant hope remained.
"Then get lost. Take them and leave. After half a Terran hour, if the evacuation is not entirely completed, I will show no mercy."
"Yes, yes, yes, my Lord. We guarantee the assignment will be completed."
Cegorach spoke with a servile smile, showing no dissatisfaction whatsoever regarding Dorn's attitude.
Even though Isha and the Seers behind him were already overwhelmed with shame and rage, they still refrained from doing anything.
They could not allow the opportunity the Laughing God had secured with such difficulty to be ruined by their hands.
None of the Craftworld Eldar capable of remaining here were fools; they naturally understood just how rare it was to be able to survive.
They had already experienced death once during the Fall of the Eldar. This time, the Imperium had charged directly into the Webway; if they failed to make changes now, they would truly be left with no way out.
When given the chance to live, how many people would willingly choose to die?