The arrival of the various Craftworld Aeldari immensely bolstered the defenses of Commorragh. The towering, agile silhouettes of Wraithknights finally rose to contest the Greater Daemons of Slaanesh.
In terms of raw combat prowess, Fulgrim remained a nigh-invincible presence. The flamboyant Daemon Primarch gleefully slaughtered everything in his path, but fortunately, Fulgrim had never been one to get straight to the point.
He savored the process of sadistic murder, occasionally pausing mid-battle to sample the exotic narcotics and fine wines his progeny plundered from the Dark City. Only after a period of dallying would he resume his carnage. In truth, had it not been for the constant prodding of Slaanesh, Fulgrim would have grown bored of the affair long ago.
"FULGRIM—DESTROY THE AELDARI RITUAL AT ONCE!"
The command of Slaanesh exploded in Fulgrim's mind, causing the fallen Phoenician's face to twist with impatience, though he was forced to comply.
It was a testament to the inherent weakness of Slaanesh's forces: it is difficult to build a foundation of true strength when your subordinates are all hedonistic addicts, none of whom possess the singular drive to sacrifice everything for the cause.
"Yes, yes… how dreadfully dull~" Fulgrim muttered, nodding as his massive serpentine tail began to slither rapidly toward the Wych combat arena, Crucibael. He believed nothing could stand in his way.
Suddenly, a massive Aeldari host manifested before him. These elites from the various Aspect Shrines, led by their legendary masters, directly intercepted the elite of the Emperor's Children. Even Lucius the Eternal found himself easily parried and held at bay by one of their number.
"Jain Zar? I did not expect to see you here. I heard you had parted ways with the Ynnari?" A warrior leading a squad of Swooping Hawks laughed heartily. Behind him, metallic wings shimmered, and he brandished the Talon of Baharroth alongside a gleaming power blade.
"I know how to weigh what is important, Baharroth!" Jain Zar's weapon, the Silent Death, unleashed a storm of blood among the Emperor's Children. Simultaneously, she wielded her polearm with peerless skill, crushing the Flawless Blades with liquid grace.
"Hahaha—true enough! Otherwise, how could so many Phoenix Lords have gathered?" Baharroth laughed.
On the battlefield, they were joined by more than just the Phoenix Lords of the Swooping Hawks and the Howling Banshees. Fuegan of the Fire Dragons, Maugan Ra of the Dark Reapers, and Karandras of the Striking Scorpions had all appeared simultaneously.
As Fulgrim charged, Karandras was the first to leap forward, engaging the Primarch in a duel so swift that their blades were a blur even to the mightiest mortal veterans.
"Oh~~ such perfect prey. What exquisite agonies shall I gift you?" Fulgrim hissed, intrigued by Karandras's martial artistry, his flicking, serpentine tongue licking his purple lips.
"How about the agony of being cast back into the Warp!"
Baharroth soared through the sky, his sunrifle screaming as he poured fire into Fulgrim's head. At the same time, Jain Zar and Drazhar, leading a large host of Incubi, joined the fray to encircle the Phoenician.
As Karandras fought, he cast furtive glances at Drazhar. He felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity from this legendary figure of the Drukhari. However, his subtle overtures and hints were met only with silence, forcing him to abandon the thought and focus on the duel.
Beside himself with the simultaneous assault of multiple Phoenix Lords, Fulgrim lost his nonchalant ease. Under their relentless coordination, even his vaunted, "perfect" body began to suffer unsightly rents and gashes.
"You have angered me, you wretched mortals!"
Only then did Fulgrim begin to fight in earnest. Each of his four arms seemed to possess its own distinct personality, parrying and striking with independent lethal intent. In this state, Fulgrim alone exerted the pressure of four master duelists.
However, the situation allowed no further indulgence. As the ritual within the arena grew in intensity, Slaanesh felt a burgeoning, terrifying surge of pain. The Dark Prince forcibly took control of Fulgrim's form, driving him toward the heart of the ritual.
Fulgrim's elegant composure vanished instantly. He became a battering ram, caring little for the deep wounds the Phoenix Lords carved into his flesh as he plowed forward.
"Scum! Filth!" Fulgrim cursed, unable to master his own limbs as he smashed into the Aeldari defensive lines like a juggernaut. The Emperor's Children followed their gene-father into a hail of fire, leaving behind a carpet of corpses.
Under Slaanesh's direct manipulation, Fulgrim unleashed the terrifying strength that ranked him among the top three combatants of the Primarchs, clearing the path ahead with a whirlwind of blades.
"Haha! I see it!" Fulgrim's acidic ichor hissed as it melted the ornate gates of the arena, revealing the golden radiance of the ritual within.
Yvraine and her cohorts were in the midst of the ceremony to summon Ynnead, the God of the Dead. Fulgrim was a mere few kilometers away; no one seemed left to halt his advance. He was already contemplating the tortures he would inflict to repay his bodily injuries.
"Mmm, those two look promising. I think I'll sew them into the cloaca of my tail and play with them for a few centuries," Fulgrim mused, eyeing Lelith Hesperax and Yvraine with predatory delight. He moved to strike.
At that exact moment, several silent shots struck Fulgrim squarely in the neck.
They were truly silent, and the projectiles carried a condensed power of Chaos no less potent than his own.
"Who...?" Fulgrim felt his entire body stiffen, as if turning to stone. It was no illusion; his daemonic form began to calcify into cold rock.
He could not see his assailants. Alpharius and Omegon had seamlessly shifted their appearances from Emperor's Children legionnaires to Aeldari Dire Avengers. The "bullets" lodged in Fulgrim's neck were gifts from the Great Horned Rat specifically designed to thwart Slaanesh.
No matter how powerful a Daemon Primarch may be, they are but pawns when the Chaos Gods themselves intervene.
As Fulgrim was hacked to pieces by the Phoenix Lords and banished back to the empyrean, the ritual of the Dead God reached its zenith. Within the Palace of Pleasure, Slaanesh felt the Aeldari souls He had devoured begin to coalesce into a tangible, physical weight.
Then, that thing began to tear at Slaanesh's womb from the within.
In the Black Library, Cegorach, the Laughing God, watched the scene with a touch of regret, shaking his head. "Oh no~ the Ultimate Joke has come a bit too early. The dosage is insufficient~"
Cegorach had envisioned the Ultimate Joke as the total destruction of Slaanesh by Ynnead, even at the cost of the Aeldari race's extinction. Now, with the Aeldari still surviving, the forced birth of the Whispering God would greviously wound Slaanesh but fall short of true deicide.
Slaaneshi daemons watched in horror as a spectral Sword of Khaine sliced open the belly of the Dark Prince. A figure crawled out, impossibly pale, tall, and slender, looking like a masterwork of macabre sculpture.
"Aieee—Kill it!"
N'Kari, the Masque, and other daemons stationed at the palace shrieked in unison, rushing forward to slay the nascent deity.
But at that moment, the entirety of Slaanesh's realm came under massive invasion.
Tzeentchian legions fell from the skies like rain, led by Kairos Fateweaver. The hosts of Khorne and Nurgle, spearheaded by Ka'Bandha and Rotigus the Rainfather, tore through the borders of the Prince's domain.
Finally, the Emperor and the Great Horned Rat made Their move. Legion of the Damned and the rat-daemon legions under Kritislik surged forward from two other directions.
Even Be'lakor, the Dark Master, who had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, emerged with his cultists to muddy the waters.
Every Dark Power knew this was a once-in-an-eternity opportunity. It wasn't just about occupying Slaanesh's territory, it was the chance of a lifetime to capture the Dark Prince and seize the power of Rapturous Sensation for themselves.
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