"Damnation! What is the meaning of this Warp storm? All Astropathic choirs and vox-channels are completely severed!"
The ascension of the Great Horned Rat had ignited a cataclysmic Warp storm. The Imperial warp-routes, already flickering on the edge of oblivion since the birth of the Great Rift, were now utterly extinguished. This tempest rivaled the scale of the Age of Strife, the dark epoch that had shattered humanity's Golden Age. On Holy Terra, Roboute Guilliman faced this sudden upheaval with mounting desperation.
The Lord Regent had only recently mustered the ambition to reclaim the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar; now, in a cruel twist of fate, the Imperium was besieged by this storm, its constituent worlds cast into total isolation.
"Father... I only hope that bastard Abaddon doesn't take this chance to strike," Guilliman muttered. Looking at the mountain of reports detailing the loss of Warp-contact piling upon his strategist's table, he felt a crushing headache forming.
He feared this was another of the Despoiler's machinations. The Imperium, already halved and bleeding, could not withstand another blow on the scale of the Cicatrix Maledictum.
At that moment, an Adeptus Astartes Terminator of the Victrix Guard strode in, leaning forward to whisper urgently into the Regent's ear.
Guilliman's expression shifted into something complex. He knitted his brow in thought for a moment before nodding grimly. "Let them in."
Under the heavy surveillance of the Terminators, two tall figures entered. Their elegant, tapered ears marked them immediately as Xenos—Aeldari.
"It has been a long time, Regent of the Imperium," the Aeldari female said, her smile poised yet cautious. Beside her, the Aeldari male wore a look of arrogance and disdain so thin it was barely veiled.
"Lady Yvraine. Seer Eldrad." Guilliman narrowed his eyes. He knew they had bypassed Terra's formidable defenses via the Webway, a fact that kindled his ire. His voice was ice. "In the spirit of our precarious alliance, I granted you permission to access Holy Terra via your Webway in times of dire emergency. However, I am not certain if you have mistaken my pragmatism for Imperial indulgence..."
Yvraine remained unfazed by Guilliman's interrogation. She partially obscured her face with her fan, her tone dancing with an inscrutable edge. "Is that so? How fascinating. So the birth of a new Dark God within the Warp is of no concern to you? Our sincerest apologies, Lord Regent. We shall take our leave at once."
"Hmph. The words of Xenos are always—wait. A new what?!" Guilliman had been prepared to dismiss their riddles, his mind consumed by the unprecedented Warp storm. But as the weight of her words registered, he bolted upright, his chair screeching against the floor.
Yvraine fell silent, yielding the floor to Eldrad Ulthran, High Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwé. The Farseer adopted a haughty posture, the kind that made Guilliman contemplate the efficacy of the Emperor's Sword against an Aeldari's backside, before finally speaking.
"The truth is absolute, Regent of Men. I have sensed it: a new God of Chaos has awakened within the Warp. This storm is its birth-cry. Even the Webway has begun to fracture under the pressure. It reminds me... of the Fall of the Aeldari."
The Xenos did not seem to be lying. Furthermore, the sheer magnitude of the Warp storm mirrored the ancient records of the Old Night.
Guilliman sank back into his throne, his massive frame slumped like a marionette with cut strings. For a fleeting second, despair clouded his hyper-logical, post-human mind. Even setting aside a new Dark God, this storm alone could cast the decaying corpse of the Imperium back into the Age of Strife, or perhaps something far worse.
"No... Father, I cannot... I will not let the Imperium die in my hands," Guilliman whispered in a moment of rare, raw vulnerability.
Having apparently enjoyed the sight of the Primarch's distress long enough, Eldrad spoke again, prompted by a sharp look from Yvraine. "However, you need not despair entirely. This storm will dissipate soon—in ten years at the most."
The sudden reversal made Guilliman want to throttle the Farseer, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. "And what can you offer us?"
Guilliman understood the Aeldari's endgame: they wanted the Imperium to serve as a meat-shield against Chaos. If that was the case, he would use them just as ruthlessly.
"We can provide access to the Webway to ensure your Imperium does not shatter under its own weight."
"Hmph. The Imperium may stumble, but it will not collapse within a mere decade," Guilliman countered, rapping his gauntlet against the table.
"Indeed? And what of the threat that follows the storm..."
Before Eldrad could finish, a squad of Ultramarines burst into the chamber, their bolters raised and eyes burning with fury at the sight of the Xenos.
"Report," Guilliman commanded.
"Father, we are under attack! Xenos!" the Ultramarine cried out.
Guilliman instinctively glanced at Yvraine and Eldrad, but he knew this wasn't their doing. He kept his gaze fixed on his son, signaling him to continue.
"The sub-levels of every Hive City on Holy Terra are being swarmed by strange Xenos! They are surging from the depths in massive numbers, overrunning the lower Hives. The transition was so sudden that several of our localized armories have already fallen!"
Guilliman stood, the cold fury of a Primarch radiating from him like a physical heat.
"This is the other danger I intended to warn you of," Eldrad said, his voice maddeningly casual. "It is not just your Throneworld. Every one of your planets, every moon, is facing the same infestation. Without the aid of our Webway, your Imperium will not last those ten years."
Guilliman's face was as grim as carved granite. He donned the Helm of the Armour of Fate and signaled his Victrix Guard.
"First, we purge these Xenos. I want to know why the Sol System's defensive grid failed to trigger a single alarm. I will have words with Cawl later!" the Primarch roared.
Holy Terra, the ancient Throneworld, was once again a theater of war. Endless swarms of vermin erupted from the crust, butchering civilians, seizing armories, and detonating power reactors.
Chaos gripped the Hives in seconds. Then came the bipedal horrors: the Skaven.
These rat-men were disturbingly well-equipped. Even the lowly Slave-rats wore crude flak-scrap and wielded warp-pistols and mono-molecular blades.
"YES-YES! The Great Horned Rat... His will is made manifest! Skaven shall rise-ascend! Man-things DIE-DIE! Hahahaha!"
Beneath the surface of Holy Terra, Supreme Klaw-Marshal Whitesick of Clan Verminus shrieked with laughter, signaling the attack to his near-infinite host.
The Skaven had been on the verge of being discovered due to their sheer numbers, but suddenly, Whitesick felt their power surge. More common rats began to stand on their hind legs, mutating before his eyes.
Then, a messenger arrived, the most beautiful and terrifying creature Whitesick had ever beheld: a Seer Verminlord. It delivered the mandate of the Great Horned Rat: every rat-kin was to launch a total assault upon the surface world.
To prove his zeal and seize more territory, Whitesick ordered every blade of Clan Verminus to strike the surface-dwellers immediately!
Meanwhile, the Clan Ratling recognized the golden opportunity. Drawing upon their knowledge of the Astra Militarum and utilizing the "backdoor" provided by the Great Horned Rat through the Realm of Ruin, they began traversing the reality-corridors. The Ratlings launched a vicious counter-offensive against the Imperial Guard units that had once hunted them!
Naturally, across the Imperium Nihilus, the forces of Chaos and other Xenos fared no better. The Council of the Skavenblight would not be outdone; they echoed the Great Horned Rat's command. Hidden Skaven cells across the galaxy struck out at Xenos and Chaos forces alike.
In a heartbeat, the entire galaxy was engulfed in the tide of the Vermintide!
Within the Warp, the Great Horned Rat watched as His children spread across the galaxy like stars in the night sky, igniting the fires of total war. He bared His yellowed incisors in a jagged grin.
"Heh-heh... This is my gift to you, the Vermintide. I hope you enjoy it!"
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