Datch scrutinized Fabius Bile with a critical eye. The man's appearance was deeply unsettling. His body was hunched and gaunt, with hands like a rake, his face covered in countless suture marks. He wore a faded, ancient purple power armor and a coat sewn together from stretched human faces contorted in endless screams. Such an appearance would terrify even a horror movie boss into tears.
Datch opened Bile's information panel, and all the data about his opponent's history and deeds immediately came before his eyes.
[Clone Lord Fabius Bile]
[Once the chief apothecary of the Emperor's Children Legion, he was the galaxy's most fanatical genetic scientist. He firmly believed in the truth of the Imperium, and used to be a true atheist.
Key Achievements: During the Great Crusade, he performed splicing and implantation surgeries on the Emperor's sons, accelerating the Legion's degeneration. He participated in the Horus Heresy and slew several Imperial heroes. After the Heresy, he conspired with Abaddon, repeatedly led raids against Imperial worlds, conducted mass slaughter to gather genetic material. He performed various experiments altering human genes, creating mutants whom he declared the new human species, and publicly proclaimed his intent to drive old humanity to extinction so the new could thrive.
For further research, he once infiltrated deep within Commorragh, the city of the Dark Eldar, mastering many forbidden arts of flesh and blood…]
Datch smirked as he read the file. One had to admire the game developers who poured such effort into the storyline design. A notorious villain, despised by all, had actually come to seek his cooperation.
If you accept the invitation, the Chaos storyline is triggered, leading to a different ending.
Yet, the Rescue storyline is the true ending—others are mere bonus endings. If you pick an ending with an Easter Egg, you'll miss out on much of the intriguing narrative. For first-timers, it's only natural to want to experience the full story.
On a second playthrough, you could even transform into one of the four Chaos Gods, or become the Emperor's strictest (yet loving) father-figure. Let them taste what a truly evil god feels like!
Datch recalled someone on the forum describing how they became the strictest father in Warhammer, unlocking a hidden plotline. Necromancers, Chaos Gods, Eldar, Orks, Dwarves, the T'au Empire, and Tyranids were all forced into an alliance to fight the player's own evil forces. Why? Because the player refused to unlock creative mode, instead building the greatest spectacle in the shortest time possible. To achieve this, they enslaved all forces in the galaxy—including the Xenos Tyranids—and drove them to work like mad. Production efficiency was so paramount they even used the strongest stimulants. The Hive Mind became a breeding tool, Chaos Gods and their minions became workers, endlessly mining through the Warp day and night.
In the end, even the four Chaos Gods couldn't stand it, rebelling out of desperation.
This person posted on the forum to ask:
"With all this assigned work, how do they still have time to plot rebellion? Is there no way to increase the workload further?"
Unfortunately, Datch was now enjoying his first playthrough along the Rescue route for the richest experience. Even after tired of story mode, there was still time for troublemaking.
The Changeling watched all this, stifling a giggle. To attempt to win the allegiance of someone akin to a god—Fabius Bile was truly bold!
Had the Nameless One thrown himself to the forces of Chaos, the gods would have been the first to rush out and slap that fool.
Fabius Bile saw the smile on Datch's face, thinking he'd convinced him, and smiled as well. He stepped forward excitedly, gesturing to add weight to his words.
"Look at this broken galaxy. An individual's power is ultimately limited. We must unite."
"Nameless One, if you assist me, you will be contributing to humanity's greatest cause: salvation."
"The new humans I create will never forget your contribution."
Behind him, tentacles embedded with scalpels snaked toward the void outside the porthole.
"Just consider it—the resurrection of the Necromancer, the ravenous tide of Tyranids, the savage howls of the Orks...and the endless whispers of Chaos!"
"Humanity is far too weak against such threats."
"We must evolve, become stronger. Only then can civilization be saved from destruction."
"For humanity's future and our species' survival, join me. We will remake flesh and blood, forging a new era for mankind!"
There was pride and a twisted sense of mission in Bile's voice. It was clear that he truly believed in saving humanity. The problem was, his methods and their results were utterly unacceptable to most people.
Definitely a villain NPC suited for his role: ideals, ambitions, and the drive to act.
Datch listened with great interest to the long speech, then burst out laughing.
An NPC who viewed commoners as worthless, whose hands were stained with blood, whose ideology was utterly mad—seriously trying to recruit this old Terran to help wipe out humanity and put his mutants on the throne?
This was without doubt the best black-comedy plotline in the entire Warhammer universe.
Datch's laughter stabbed like icy needles into Bile's sensitive and obsessive nerves, instantly changing his expression. In a flash, Bile recalled how Belisarius Cawl had mocked him before—and now, here he was, mocked again.
Damn it, why did no one understand his grand vision? Only he could save humanity. Only he could make mankind the true rulers of the galaxy.
Writhing in rage from repeated alterations, Bile's face contorted, and even the mechanical tentacles on his back trembled.
"I spoke in earnest... yet you... you dare mock me?"
"Enough of this!" Datch waved aside the pointless talk.
"Kill these scum and take this mechanical Ark!"
Bile's face turned utterly dark and he ordered the mutants to attack.
As battle ignited again, Datch stowed his power claw and longsword. From the game's inventory, he drew out the Emperor's Belt—an antique design, gleaming faintly with gold.
Datch fastened it around his waist, spun the buckle, and struck a familiar transforming pose.
"Those who betray humanity shall be judged by Heaven itself."
"Emperor's Armor—activate."
As soon as he finished speaking, a dazzling yet gentle golden light erupted from his belt's voice changer, flowing over his whole body like spilled mercury. Ancient, majestic golden armor materialized from nowhere, perfectly enveloping Datch. The pauldrons were broad and heavy, the breastplate inscribed with sacred symbols, the helmet's red visor shining.
So oppressive was his aura that the surrounding mutants showed terror on their faces.
The light faded. Suddenly, a war god clad in gold, as if out of myth, stood grandly on the battlefield.
Datch reached out his right hand, grasping at empty air.
Golden light condensed into his palm, coalescing into a longsword—Aurora Sword, the Emperor's Armor's exclusive weapon. The blade shone righteously, radiating an aura that purified evil spirits.
High upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor watched, frowning slightly as he gazed at the Nameless One merged with the armor. He had an odd feeling, as if he'd seen that armor before—but he couldn't quite recall where. With forty millennia of observation and information in his mind, he had witnessed the rise and fall of countless talented individuals, the creation of pivotal technologies, and history-changing moments.
He couldn't remember where he'd seen the armor before, but he was certain he had.
"Slaughter those twisted monsters," Datch raised the Aurora Sword and pointed at Bile and his mutants.
"Leave no one alive. What filth dares hope to replace humanity?"
Mordachi and the other Dark Angels obeyed at once, commanding the Ark's garrison to open fire upon the enemy.
The great sage Cawl secretly dispatched his own subordinates to attempt a rescue of the Proto-Primaris Space Marine.
They escaped safely, joining the battle alongside other Proto-Primaris Space Marines.
The chief's life wasn't in danger, but his gene-seed had been stolen by Bile. If not recovered, it would certainly be used in unspeakable blasphemies.
The Changeling and the Masque of Slaanesh attacked the enemy again, their assaults growing ever more fierce—perhaps sensing Datch's murderous intent and the intimidating aura of the Emperor's Armor.
"This man must die!"
Bile, seeing Datch's transformation, bared his killing intent and shouted at the mutants.
Among them, the most intimidating Minotaur mutant, Brutus, let out a war cry, swinging a massive power axe as he charged the golden figure like a tank, his footsteps making the ground tremble.
Datch didn't dodge. He parried casually with the Aurora Sword.
CLANG!
The monstrous axe, powerful enough to cleave armor, was thoroughly blocked by Datch's blade, not advancing an inch.
Brutus's eyes widened in shock—he knew his own strength. Even Space Marines found it hard to withstand such a blow, but his foe blocked it one-handed.
In the next instant, Datch's other hand balled into a fist and smashed forward.
BANG!!!
A simple punch landed squarely on Brutus's armored chest. At the moment of contact, a visible shockwave rippled outward. The heavy armor, like porcelain struck by a hammer, cracked in a spiderweb pattern.
The mountain-like body was thrown into the air by the punch, tumbling back, knocking aside several mutants.
Chaos erupted across the entire battlefield.
At that moment, Bile himself intervened. He went all out from the start, stabbing his sword at the seams of Datch's armor in a difficult angle. Behind him, the four thickest mechanical tentacles writhed like venomous dragons, their blades and drills vibrating at high frequencies, attacking Datch's vitals from all directions and sealing off every escape route.
Here, Bile wielded all his experience, skill, and cunning.
Clang! Clang!
Datch's Aurora Sword accurately deflected the power sword, swept away deadly tentacle weapons, and then—moving with superhuman speed—dodged the remaining tentacles.
How is this possible?
Bile was shocked—the opponent's speed and strength were beyond imagination.
Immediately after, Datch whipped his sword out in a backhand slash. Bile had to parry, but the force numbed his arms, stumbling him backward. The tentacles tried to strangle Datch, but he weaved between them with incredible agility, dodging with fierce fluidity. Every blow from the sword targeted a tentacle joint, sending out sparks and flying shards.
Bile's famed swordplay and tentacle attacks were useless before such overwhelming speed and power.
After several rounds, Datch feinted with the Aurora Sword, dodged Bile's guard, then landed a vicious side-kick to Bile's chest and abdomen.
"Aaargh!" Bile groaned as his armor dented inward.
He flew back like a battered sack, crashed into a broken pillar, and landed hard on the ground. His mechanical tentacles lay limp, several shattered and spilling black smoke.
Datch strode over to the writhing Bile, pointed the tip of his Aurora Sword at Bile's twisted, pain-filled neck, but did not kill him.
Fabius Bile possessed countless clones. It was impossible to tell the clones from the original. Compared to his crimes, the punishment for death seemed trivial. Datch suddenly had a mischievous idea, a way to make Bile more miserable than death.
He made the sword vanish, replaced by a bottle labeled Personalized Seasoning Powder.
He had gotten this item from a previous mission but never used it. Originally intended for Abaddon, today, Bile would be the guinea pig.
"Swear allegiance to the Emperor again, fool."
Datch set the personality modifier to enforce absolute loyalty to the Human Emperor. Instantly, he unscrewed the cap and sprinkled the powder onto the resisting Bile.
It instantly sank into Bile's skin and wounds, vanishing as if alive.
The violent psychological shock from forceful personality rewriting sent Bile into a coma. Datch pocketed the bottle, then, from Bile's belt, retrieved the gene-seed of the Proto-Primaris Space Marine.
"Roaaar—!!!"
Not far away, Brutus, finally struggling to his feet, saw his father being insulted and roared in fury.
Ignoring his injuries, Brutus led the remaining mutants in a frenzied charge to rescue Bile.
Datch casually parried some attacks, jumped back, giving the mutants a chance to grab the unconscious Bile and retreat.
The others tried to pursue but were blocked by the crazed mutants, watching helplessly as they escaped to the lower deck and fled into a net-tunnel still operational.
With the enemy gone, Datch finished off the stragglers with swift, decisive blows.
He then destroyed the power pipe at the net entrance.
The hum stopped. The unstable net entrance flickered, weakened, faded, and finally vanished, sealing that route.
"Why... why not finish him off?"
The wounded Proto-Primaris Space Marine limped over, covering his injury, confusion in his eyes.
Datch glanced at him expressionlessly. As a mere supporting character, he deserved no special explanation.
He dismissed the Emperor's Armor—after all, it was physically draining—then leaped down to the lower decks to mop up the remaining enemies.
"What an arrogant, strange fellow," Alpha Primus muttered curses silently and gritted his teeth, dragging his wounded body to follow.
….
On the other side of the Webway, a thin and desolate rocky planet loomed.
The escaped mutants gently placed the unconscious Bile on the surgical table, forming a worried circle around him.
Their ugly, misshapen faces were stamped with anxiety and loyalty.
In their simple, warped worldview, Bile was not just a creator but the source of their existence, the one bright light in their lives.
Bile's fingers twitched a few times, and then his eyes opened. His blurry vision gradually cleared, revealing Brutus's worried face and the other mutants beside him—faces which to most, would be the stuff of nightmares.
Once, seeing these mutants would have filled Bile with paternal affection. Now, for some reason, the first emotion that surged up was...
pure, burning rage.
Xenoss. Monstrous abominations. Filthy mutants!
Their existence was blasphemy against the holy Emperor!
An insult to the purity of mankind's bloodline!
They must be purged and annihilated for the Emperor!
Fanatical thoughts instantly filled every corner of Bile's consciousness, sweeping away reason, memory, and planning.
His gaze turned bloodshot, his breath coming rough and fast.
"Father…?" Brutus looked relieved as he saw Bile awaken.
Shlick!
A flash of cold silver, faster than the naked eye could follow, slashed straight through Brutus's thick throat.
It was an impossibly sharp scalpel, fitted to Bile's mechanical tentacle.
With surgical precision, it severed Brutus's windpipe and arteries.
Warm, oddly scented blood spurted out, dyeing Brutus' surprised face and Bile's pale cheek a deep red.
"Ahh... Gurgle..." Brutus froze, clutching his throat in vain, blood gushing through his fingers. He stared down at his father—once calm and calculating, now crazed with the urge to purge any heretic.
"Why..."
Brutus struggled to speak through blood and bubbles, his voice filled with despair and pain.
He would have much preferred to die in battle than at his father's hand.
"HERETICS MUST DIE!! FOR THE EMPEROR!!"
Bile shrieked with a wild, hysterical voice, yanking out the scalpel, then leaping upon Brutus and unfurling every surviving tentacle—scalpels, bone saws, puncture needles, every horrible tool gleaming coldly as he stabbed Brutus over and over.
The giant Minotaur didn't resist. In despair, he looked at his father and accepted his fate.
Killing Brutus wasn't enough—Bile attacked the other mutants as well, furiously hacking at those still gathered near, taken by surprise.
"For the Emperor! For the Emperor! For the Emperor!!"
Bile's shouts echoed, accompanied by horrific sounds—flesh sliced, bones sawed, viscera ripped out.
On the barren world's silent surface, a gruesome, tragic slaughter was underway.
Bile brought his unrivaled surgical prowess to bear upon cold-blooded butchery.
…
An entire day and night passed in a blur.
When the effects of the personality powder finally wore off, the bloodshot glow faded from Bile's eyes. He stood, dazed, amidst the carnage.
Beneath his feet was a sticky river of blood. For several hundred meters around, a mass of mangled mutant limbs, viscera, and corpse pieces carpeted the ground—a blood-soaked slaughterhouse.
He was engulfed in the nauseating reek of blood.
A handful of mutants who had hidden far enough away survived, but now looked at Bile in abject terror and despair, unable to understand why their creator and father was now their executioner.
Bile, moving stiffly, looked down at his hands, caked with drying blood, then at his tentacles—also dripping red—and at Brutus's huge head lying in the sea of gore, eyes still wide with disbelief.
Fragmented memories returned, overlapping the hellscape before him.
"No... No... No! No! Noooo!!!"
A hoarse, strangled scream tore from Bile's chest and echoed across the desolate land.
He collapsed to his knees, plunging his hands into the cold, sticky mire, his entire body trembling.
He had killed Brutus with his own hands. Brutus—one of his most beloved creations.
The day Brutus was born, Bile named him, kept him close, teaching him all sorts of skills.
Like a true father and son, their relationship was harmonious and intimate.
Bile knew Brutus truly loved him, would give his own life for his sake.
And now, he had killed Brutus himself.
Even in death, Brutus had not resisted—otherwise, his strength would have been more than enough to mortally wound Bile even with his throat slashed.
Time seemed to stop.
Only the wind howled, carrying the stench of blood with its mournful wail.
No one knew how long it took for the trembling to subside.
At last, Bile rose wearily from the bloodbath.
Pale face and tentacles heavy with gore, he didn't bother to wipe himself or look at the few surviving mutants.
Instead, he walked away into the planet's depths, laden with defeat.
This blood feud would never be forgotten.
And he would have the Nameless One and the human Imperium pay the heaviest price.
But first... he needed an army.