My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 490: Slaanesh Decides to Go Have Some Fun
Cadia
. . .
Fulgrim could feel it.
It was there.
The thing that could allow the Primarch to reclaim his destiny… it was there.
Staggering forward, Fulgrim rushed toward the place where his dearest friend had fallen. The endless Warp voyage had completely ruined his body. With every breath, he felt bloody foam surging from his lungs.
His tangled hair obscured his vision. The Primarch brushed it aside clumsily and continued struggling onward.
Fulgrim ran across a land where all things had already fallen into oblivion. In the distance, where the rising sun should have been, there churned instead a tide of writhing darkness.
He knew it was watching him.
Watching him with pure greed, without the slightest trace of emotion.
Watching the Primarch in his wretched state.
Watching his shattered soul.
But Fulgrim did not fear it.
He only wished to confirm one thing—
Galaxies may collapse. Stars may fall. Yet after billions of years, they would rise again.
But an old friend would never return.
For Fulgrim, undoing everything…
No.
Impossible.
Too late.
It was already too late.
Because Fulgrim had already made a "deal."
After the farce of brother fighting brother, he had been swept into the currents of the Warp and cast into the domain of a false god.
Under the gaze of the Phoenician, She demanded that he kneel.
That he bow his head in submission.
The Primarch did not.
The Phoenician swore he would never bend his knee.
His resistance amused Her.
She watched with delighted fascination. The god seemed to have foreseen all of this long ago. Even the Primarch's defiance brought Her… pleasure.
He struggled.
Resisted.
Swore he would never yield.
The Primarch was trapped there, imprisoned within the cage prepared for him by a god. Helplessly, he watched his sons sink into the tides of daemons, unable to live, unable to die.
The sensation of corruption flowed through the Warp-bond linking Primarch and Legion. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of collapse…
But where was the path forward?
In one corner of the chaotic Warp, amidst surging waves of lurid violet and maddened pink, beyond the realm where time and space had dissolved entirely, the imprisoned Primarch lifted his gaze.
And in that fleeting haze of the soul, he saw it.
The waters of the River of Death flowing slowly through the Warp like thick black liquid.
Fulgrim did not understand why he could see it within Slaanesh's domain.
Perhaps because, within this galaxy, it was simply too vast?
Or because it was too terrifying?
Or perhaps because in the future—or the past—it had truly invaded this realm, allowing the trapped Primarch to witness it here?
What kind of existence was it?
Fulgrim did not care.
But the Primarch clearly sensed the wound that monster itself inflicted upon the Warp.
At the edge of that black abyss, all existence screamed as it was devoured. Things tried desperately to flee, yet were slowly, inexorably drawn into the embrace of darkness.
Fulgrim knew then—
His opportunity had arrived.
He tried to call out to it.
But ignorant of the true nature of the Death River, the Primarch failed to gain its attention. Instead, his attempts only invited even crueler torment from Slaanesh.
She tortured him more fiercely.
More urgently.
Why did She tremble?
Why was She waiting?
Fulgrim felt the false god's hungry desire dripping down upon him. She would never let him leave. Within the timeless world, the torment would continue forever.
He had to escape.
Before the black beast wandering nearby departed this place.
The Primarch could not determine the beast's exact position. Amid the countless tides of the Warp, its form was uncertain—vast and terrifying, yet indistinct and blurred, as though at any moment it might vanish.
And the distance between it and this place changed according to the rise and fall of the Primarch's thoughts.
At last, Fulgrim realized something.
Whenever his thoughts pointed toward that particular corner, the beast's greedy gaze would sweep across this realm—
And the palace of desire would be stained with an ominous shadow.
Amid violent ecstasy, amid flowing blood and lustful fluids, the Primarch seized upon the key insight he needed.
His decision would change the future.
And the future, in turn, would influence the Warp of the present moment.
It was drawing closer.
Amid maddened desire, Fulgrim thought wildly:
He had to leave.
He had to escape this place—
No!
He could not remain any longer!
This was his final chance.
Otherwise, he would fall completely into this drunken abyss forever.
She, too, was waiting—
Waiting for the Primarch to give Her an opportunity.
Patiently, She watched him, waiting for him to make his request.
It seemed She was anticipating something as well.
"…I want…"
The Primarch's pupils had already begun to lose focus. The words were squeezed from his toothless mouth, and with every syllable, his exposed lungs rose and fell like a deflated pink balloon.
"…to make a deal with you."
The nails piercing his flesh let out satisfied moans. The mirror placed before the Primarch from beginning to end—the mirror meant to shatter his will—began to fog over.
With the last remnants of his consciousness, he looked at himself once more.
He saw a mangled mass of flesh and blood. Thick fluids of every color flowed down the uneven surface of his body.
They were the scars of lust.
Slowly, one word at a time, Fulgrim spoke his demand.
"My will shall remain forever pure."
As he spoke, the Primarch felt the dimming of Slaanesh's palace. In the future yet to come, She would lose a portion of Her power.
What exactly…
What exactly was She hoping for?
"Place my soul in the place nearest to it… and in exchange, you may take the perfect part within my body. Leave the broken remnants to me."
"If you agree…"
Fulgrim felt more sweet, metallic blood spilling from his mouth, mixed with unidentifiable chunks of flesh.
The daemonic hosts of Slaanesh surrounding him—each holding grotesque instruments of torment—vanished silently.
Within a dim gray-pink void, only the Primarch hanging upside down upon the cross remained, together with the mirror before him.
The very place around him seemed to collapse.
"…then the bargain can be completed now."
Passion and madness faded together.
The future had already been decided.
Beneath the palace adorned with endless carvings and ornaments, there rang out a laugh like flirtatious teasing mixed with delighted scolding—a silver-bell chime.
+Deal!+
It was almost as though She had been waiting for this transaction all along.
The Primarch's exhausted mind trembled at the realization.
He did not understand.
Of course he could not understand.
As he spoke those words, he could already clearly feel the false god's power weakening. The vanished portion of Her strength would be devoured by the waters of death, never to return.
Then why had She agreed so easily?
Fulgrim drifted in a haze.
He heard laughter echoing through layers of silken bed curtains.
He saw a graceful figure rise suddenly behind gauzy veils.
She laughed joyfully, rippling like spring water, casting languid, alluring glances toward every gaze fixed upon Her.
Those watching eyes—whether warning or probing—vanished.
She walked to Her dressing table.
Her attendants drew aside the curtains for Her.
Her reflection appeared within the mirror.
Cheerfully, She ordered Her servants to bring forth Her treasured collection.
+Enough, enough~+
The Youngest Queen called out.
Leave, all of you. Leave.
None of Them would understand Her.
Trembling with excitement, She thought:
Was She following the very essence of Her nature?
Or defying it?
The Dark Prince had no interest in exploring the emotions beyond that point.
She cared only for that moment.
That supreme moment.
A moment belonging only to Her and Him, irrelevant to all other existences.
After tasting that utterly unparalleled sensation once before, the gnawing itch still clung relentlessly to Her.
How delighted She was.
How deeply She adored Him.
The Youngest Queen governed desire itself—the pursuit of ultimate perfection, of ecstasy carried to its absolute peak.
She sought the revelry born from absolute perfection.
She was the god awakened from the self-destructive revels of the Aeldari.
A black-and-violet bracelet chimed softly.
Black gauze draped itself over purple silk.
The balance could never truly be broken. Since the others would never permit desire to spread unchecked forever…
Then why not personally choose one final, magnificent carnival?
Ah~~~~ this wondrous—
Wondrous everything!
…Of course.
Oh, right.
Of course, of course, of course, of course—
+My little prince,+ A long, supple pink tongue slid across sharp fangs.
+The one you love stands beside it as well.+
+Go find him.+
Slender arms curved gracefully as She plucked away Fulgrim's perfect body.
The ruined remnant left behind was casually discarded.
Beneath Her elegant brows, a trace of regret flickered at the pure starlight still lingering within the abandoned shell.
But before the far greater ecstasy awaiting Her, such sacrifices were utterly insignificant.
Heavens—
She already…
She already could not wait any longer!
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Note:
Hades either attracted the eye of a normal mortal woman or the goddess of excess, there's no in-between.
By the way, the little prince she talks about is Fulgrim, and the one that he love she talked about is Ferrus.
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[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl/posts/my-life-as-death-164167815
[2] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl/posts/my-life-as-death-164167815