Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 11 Dark Future
Once trust is breached, it will be magnified infinitely with each instance of reflection and verification.

The warp deity planted a seed of doubt in Erda's heart. Any distrust became nourishment, watering the seed to sprout and grow, eventually growing into a towering tree.

Every night, Erda is tormented by illusions. She knows everything but is powerless to resist. The power of the warp is testing her inner defenses and gradually eroding the barrier of her will.

The power of darkness subtly influenced her subconscious, and countless futures emerged in the fragments of illusion.

She could see the Emperor, the most powerful warlord on Terra. He had never changed; killing and plunder were his nature, and beneath his vow to save humanity lay a true ambition.
His goal was to conquer and enslave humanity and ascend to godhood. The young Primarch was enslaved by the Emperor and molded into a terrifying killing machine.

Driven by the emperor's ambition, they raised their swords against humanity, reaping the souls of all mankind to help the emperor become a god.

The illusions were unpredictable, and Erda, who was on the verge of a breakdown, saw another scene, one that was even more heartbreaking for her.

After unifying humanity, the Emperor betrayed his son, purging the Primarchs and their legions. The galaxy was engulfed in endless war due to the father-son conflict, with fathers and sons killing each other in the burning galaxy.

The Primarchs who support the Emperor and those who defend themselves are locked in a bloody conflict, swords drawn, vowing to kill their own blood brothers.

The countless possibilities in the illusion tore at Erda's soul; she was like a lone boat, teetering on the brink of capsizing in a storm.

The thought of seeking the Emperor to resolve these minor troubles made Erda hesitate, but the images in her mind made her uncertain.

She knew those images were most likely fake, a trick of the warp god, but... what if they were real?

Erda was in tears. In her dream, she helplessly covered her eyes, unable to bear to look at the tragic scenes.

Find among humankind any crime more depraved than fratricide.

Fathers and sons drew their swords against each other, blood brothers turned against each other, and along with all of this, humanity's future was jeopardized!

Erda covered her face, her imagination running wild, so vivid it felt like she was actually there. She kept trying to change something, but she couldn't stop it.

Whispers came from the darkness, and a snickering laugh revealed the smugness of a plot succeeding: "You can do nothing. Their fate is sealed. The gods will taste the sweetness of depravity."

"No!" Erda cried out, opening her eyes wide as if to refute the voice, but when she looked around, she saw the furnishings of her own room.

A maid stood at the door, her eyes filled with worry: "Madam, are you alright?"

“I’m fine,” Erda said, her face pale, offering a weak smile to reassure the maid’s concern. “You may leave.”

The maid dared not say anything more, bowed slightly, and slowly backed away to close the door.

The room fell into darkness and silence. Erda lay on the bed, contemplating the dark visions, everything the dark gods wished to see.

How could she avoid all of this, how could she protect her sons from the gods' schemes?

Several days passed, and Erda was once again awakened from the nightmare cycle. Her complexion changed drastically, and her face became haggard and dull.

Erda's golden hair was withered and dull, her eye sockets were dark and sunken, and her lips were dry, cracked, and bleeding.

She struggled to get up from the soft bed, called for her maid to put on her dress, and gasped to herself, "I need to get through this quickly. I now have the power to stop the future."

Erda must be there today; she must see for herself whether the prophecy is true or false.

Tormented by countless illusions of the gods, she found a way to avert the future: to remove the Primarch from the Emperor before anything happened!

Erda hurriedly left the room, rushing to verify the future shown in the illusion, unaware of the snickers hidden in the shadows behind her.

"Even immortals are mortals; emotions are always their inner weakness..."

After passing through a long corridor and entering the fortress, the elevator plummeted with a whoosh. Erda leaned against the elevator wall, looking up at the overhead light. Her heart, which had been hanging in suspense, gradually grew cold, and she clenched her fists, her anxiety burning.

She knew every syllable of the elevator's echoes intimately, and countless times she had foreseen in her nightmares that she too would fall into the elevator, plunging into darkness to face the emperor's lies alone.

"Madam, your arrival was not planned."

A small squad of the emperor's most loyal servants waited at the elevator entrance. Waldo stood at the front of the squad, holding a power halberd in his left hand and his right hand on his waist, ready to draw his sword at any moment.

The commander of the Imperial Guard was always on guard against any potential enemy, and even Erda, who had long been by the Emperor's side, was among those on his watchful eye.

The Imperial Guard's loyalty is solely to the Emperor, their creator.

Upon seeing that the visitor was Erda, Waldo removed his right hand from his waist as a sign of respect and stepped aside to let Erda enter the laboratory.

The emperor's friend can come and go as she pleases; the emperor once granted her that right.

Erda nodded slightly and, led by Waldo, entered the laboratory, which was brightly lit and filled with the humming of machines.

Within a few days, the progenitor had developed to the infant stage, and the Emperor and others arrived as planned to extract the gene seed.

The Emperor stood in the center of the laboratory, reinforcing the psionic barrier to isolate the power of the warp.

Unbeknownst to others, the evil god launched several attacks from the warp in an attempt to shatter the barrier.

Evil gods are never content to stay put; they try to collect the spoils of a deal ahead of time.

Fortunately, the power of the evil god was infinitely weakened by the laws of physics in the real universe. In addition, the emperor himself used his psychic energy to create a barrier. Under these multiple layers of protection, the laboratory was almost unbreakable on the etheric level. The evil god roared outside the barrier but could not enter.

Erda approached Makado and stood beside him, her body relaxed and expressionless, showing no emotional fluctuation: "Makado, hasn't it started yet?"

“Madam, you don’t look well. What has made you look so haggard?” Macado asked Erda in a low voice, sounding like a gentleman.

However, his appearance was far from gentlemanly. The upper half of his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, and his thin chin rose and fell in a low, husky voice, somewhat surprised by Erda's condition.

Macardo would pay more attention to the immortals.

There were originally few immortal beings on Terra, and each one was a treasure trove of knowledge left behind by human civilization. Moreover, Erda was a friend of the Emperor.

“Macado, it seems that extracting my genetic material has caused me more harm than I expected.” Erda smiled, choosing to subtly conceal the prophecy in her mind and steer the conversation in the right direction.

Macardo and the Emperor were practically inseparable, sharing the same trousers and showing each other great respect. He possessed great wisdom, and no clue could escape the sharp eyes hidden beneath his hood.

"Do you need me to kill you, madam?" Taking a life seemed like a favor, and Waldo quietly stood behind them, eavesdropping on their conversation, and spoke up at an inopportune moment.

“Commander of the Imperial Guards, I would rather kill myself than die by your hand.” Erda turned around, politely refusing Waldo’s suggestion, showing no fear of death, her voice completely calm.

Waldo didn't really want to kill Erda; he wanted to help her recover.

Immortals possess an extremely rare and special constitution, granting them near-eternal lifespans. Furthermore, if an immortal is killed, they will be resurrected shortly afterward, their physical and mental state reset, returning them to their peak condition.

With a helpless shrug, the armor rustled softly against each other, the eagle-wing shoulder armor swaying like an eagle spreading its wings. A slight smile appeared on Waldo's perpetually taut, handsome face as he expressed his regret:

"That's a real shame, madam. I would love to help you with your troubles."

Macado's nasolabial folds twitched as he smiled.

It was a rare moment of relaxation for the group, but the Emperor's voice broke the tranquility.

"Constantine Waldo!" The Emperor activated the psionic barrier, calling out the name of the Commander of the Imperial Guard and summoning his servants.

Waldo immediately stepped forward and, under the Emperor's instructions, turned on the machine to begin extracting the genetic material from the Primarch, who had grown to the size of a normal human infant, which could be used to cultivate gene seeds.

The machine starts, and mechanical tentacles are inserted into the baby's spine from inside the incubation chamber to extract the purest genetic material from the spinal fluid.

The Primarch awoke from its slumber, its chubby cheeks contorted in pain as it thrashed its plump limbs in an attempt to resist the agony.

Primarchs are incredibly powerful even in infancy; after all, they are warp demigods.

The incubation chamber creaked and shook slightly; Ohara's strength was astonishing, and he even tried to break the incubation chamber.

The Emperor frowned slightly, and golden psionic energy transformed into ropes, sealing the Primarch to the walls of the incubation chamber.

The Primarchs opened their mouths and cried out silently in the amniotic fluid, but the Emperor remained unmoved, signaling Waldo to continue.

Erda felt deeply empathy for the pain and cruel abuse her own children endured.

She felt a deep, unbearable pain in her heart, an invisible ache that tightened around her heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

Their father stood there unmoved and expressionless, as if he hadn't heard the childish cries of pain coming from the incubation chamber.

Not only the emperor, but Erda also observed her surroundings discreetly, and what she saw brought a mother to the brink of despair.

The shattered illusion flashed through his mind again. Chaos dared not act recklessly beside the Emperor. Tormented by the illusion, the gods left a deep psychological suggestion in Erda's mind.

The psychological suggestion was silently distorting everything she saw, rewriting it into malice and lies, constantly prompting the rampant growth of malice within her.

In a daze, Erda seemed to see Macardo's lips curl slightly up, as if he was enjoying the pain of the young Primarch.

He will become the Primarch's godfather, transforming the Primarch into mindless war machines, numb, empty, soulless, and devoid of free will.

Waldo watched with great interest as the Primarch was harmed, remaining unmoved and even contemplating killing him.

He did it! After humanity conquered the galaxy, he personally killed the Primarch, just as the Emperor was recently preparing to execute: to wipe out the unstable Thunder Warriors.

"No!" Erda's soul was pierced by the ice, her limbs stiffened with fear, and deep within her heart she cried out, "Such a future can never happen!"

Erda made up her mind at that moment that she had to get the Primarchs away from the Emperor and give them their freedom!

"Hahahaha! Gaa!"

The moment she made up her mind, deep within the subspace crystal labyrinth, Tzeentch, who was watching every subtle change in reality, stretched his neck, raised his head, and laughed wildly.

The wheel of fate begins to turn, and countless destinies intertwine to form a tapestry.

Now, the laughing evil god holds a handful of threads of fate in his hand. He gently manipulates them with his fingers, picking up the threads of fate and adding variables to the future of mankind.

"The beginnings of many destinies should not be in the plans of that 'master of mankind,' they should be full of variables."

Tzeentch’s form was constantly contorted; He was satisfied with adding change to the constant destiny and excited by dominating it all.

“Fate…” Tzeentch couldn’t help but sigh, “It is elusive yet traceable; even the gods are bound by it at times…”

"And you? An outsider." The evil god's gaze pierced through the illusion, casting its light upon the veil of reality, upon the sleeping Primarch 21 in the incubation chamber: "What kind of surprise will you bring me?"

“I’m really looking forward to it!”

The voice of the evil god, silent within the crystal labyrinth, began to weave conspiracies and schemes, orchestrating the changes and watching the course of fate unfold.

(End of this chapter)