Mirror of the Inverted World!
Datch's eyes lit upon the item reward from the mission. Muttering to himself, he clicked to see more details.
[Item: Mirror of the Inverted World]
Description: At first glance, it's a normal mirror, but it hides a mysterious power.
The owner of the mirror can pass through it to enter a parallel dimension that is a perfect opposite of the current universe. By anchoring the mirror to a specific individual, you can enter the corresponding "opposite" world for that person. If you don't specify, you'll enter a universe-wide reverse world by default.
[Review: Want to know what you'd be like with the exact opposite personality and gender? Try this out and see for yourself.]
Datch gave a gleeful grin. "Now this is what I call a great item."
According to the description, this mirror could be used to travel to alternate and opposite universes. For example, if the story's default background is the human Imperium, maybe in the real version, that empire is constantly bullied by monsters and demons, teetering on the brink of collapse.
But in the mirror world, the human Imperium reigns supreme, able to annihilate anyone at will—yet has no friends.
He couldn't help but joke to himself, "If I anchor to the Emperor and pass through, would the cold and aloof Emperor turn into a gentle and adorable older sister?"
"Are those gender-swapped Emperor photos that the crazy guys on the Warhammer forums keep posting every day... actually real?"
"What, then, would the Emperor look like in the opposite-gendered world?"
After a while talking to himself, he looked up and nodded at Oberdeii, the Chapter Master of the Scythes of the Emperor, who was still awaiting his response.
"Don't worry. I'll help you fully resolve this issue."
Upon hearing the promise from this unknown figure, Oberdeii clearly let out a sigh of relief. According to Autumn Return 87, this person's abilities proved if the Nameless One said there was no problem, there really was nothing to worry about.
Not even the Inquisition or High Lord Council of Terra could overturn the decisions of the Nameless Ones.
Is this what it means to have a reliable ally? he thought, moved.
….
Once the chapter's disgrace problem was solved, Oberdeii turned to the great sage Cawl to discuss information regarding Sotha.
"Ever since the Tyranids Hive Fleet's tendrils invaded this system, we've been in a long and brutal war with the Tyranids, and have come to know them well."
Most imagine that once the Tyranids fleet passes, it simply devours everything and leaves nothing but a barren world.
But the reality is different—they always leave behind special organisms called Sentinels after destroying a planet.
"These are meant to infect anyone who comes to offer aid or investigate the disaster."
Cawl continued, "And of course, they have their own way of rebuilding the planet's ecosystem, waiting for the right moment to return for more harvesting. There's good reason to believe this method was how the Hive Fleets grew so massive in the first place."
"They're tending a garden of their own," Alpha said, frowning.
Oberdeii could only give a wry smile. "Your description is pretty much spot-on."
"If we want to return to Sotha, we'll have to consider this risk. The sleeping Tyranid monsters will definitely awaken and attack us upon our arrival."
The great sage Cawl watched as Datch smoothly wound through the crowd, feeling momentarily relieved.
"With the Nameless One along, I doubt there's any crisis we can't overcome. Let us prepare to land on Sotha."
The leader of the Proto-Primaris watched the sage's actions and frowned. The wise were becoming ever more dependent on the Nameless Ones—a bad omen indeed.
…
The team led by Grand Sage Cawl brought a large amount of scientific research equipment and traveled via multiple transports to Sotha's surface, preparing to unravel the secrets of the Pharos Lighthouse.
Datch stood by a porthole, gazing out as the transport gradually descended.
Bit by bit, the landscape of Sotha came into view.
The insatiable Tyranids fleet had consumed not just all forms of life, but also stolen away the very atmosphere and oceans.
Sotha had become nothing more than a bare, rocky sphere with everything of value stripped away.
Other planets in the system had also been affected by the Tyranids, but not to such an extreme extent—just two gas giants and some cometary material had been harvested.
The living planets were always the greatest victims, for the Tyranids' hunger for genetic material far outstripped even more basic nutritional needs.
The remains of the feeding towers used to harvest biomatter still stood on the planet's surface. The soft organic parts had long been stripped away, leaving only indigestible mineral skeletons, looming like grotesque fossilized trees to form a sinister petrified forest.
All around, the entire world was barren.
Exposed bedrock showed the outlines of tectonic plates—like the skeleton of some vast, skinned beast.
The ancient seas were now just dried basins, and the former landmass was a wind-eroded, endless wasteland.
No water. No soil.
No plants, no animals—not even a trace of microbial life.
The whole world was dead. Even its corpses had been devoured, leaving only indigestible bones behind.
"They left us with nothing. Just stone," Oberdeii murmured, voice thick with grief as he watched from the window.
The other Scythes of the Emperor members wore similar expressions.
Sotha was dead; their chapter headquarters had become a shipborne order, no longer bound to a homeworld.
No one spoke. Each member of the Scythes of the Emperor was left with memories of the past.
…
The transport fleet headed directly for Sotha's former capital, Sopholis, once the heart of civilization. At its outskirts, Mount Pharos towered—crowned by the mighty fortress-monastery of the Scythes of the Emperor.
From above, many building skeletons still dotted Sopholis, though now their scorched walls, acid holes, and gaping wounds from apocalyptic weapons told the story of its destruction.
On the streets, abandoned vehicles rusted into strange iron shapes, forever waiting for owners who would never return.
Death permeated the city—indeed, the entire world.
The transports passed the dried coastline, cut across Sopholis, and arrived at Mount Pharos, making for the fortress at its summit.
"Scan complete. No significant energy readings found outside the fortress; defense matrices are fully shut down; void shield generators report no signals," reported the Tech priest.
"We detect only extremely faint background readings around the main reactor area—likely residual static or minimum maintenance systems at work."
As the transports closed in, a detailed map of Mount Pharos appeared on the ship's monitors.
When the display focused in, everyone frowned—none more so than Oberdeii.
"Why are there so many holes on the surface?" Oberdeii asked in surprise. "These tunnels weren't here when we were stationed! Scythes of the Emperor never discovered them!"
Alpha looked accusingly. "Don't you guys know your own monastery?"
Oberdeii shook his head. "These entrances never existed before. The mountains used to be covered in deep ancient forests and thick layers of soil."
"Our fortress-monastery is reinforced concrete—very sturdy. We've scanned the geology many times and never seen anomalies. Only when the Tyranids fleet stripped everything away did whatever was hidden below finally come fully to light."
At that moment, a shrill alarm blared through the transport.
"The fortress's automatic defenses have locked on!" The pilot's voice was tense.
Crackling noise filled the comms, followed by a synthetic mechanical voice.
"You are entering restricted airspace. Withdraw or be destroyed by the Emperor's Scythe."
"You are entering restricted airspace. Withdraw or be destroyed by the Emperor's Scythe."
"Impossible!" Oberdeii cried. "We shut all auto-defenses down when we left. What's powering these weapons now?"
He rushed to the comms panel, input his chapter leader ID, and tried to disable the defense protocols.
But there was no response—the machine spirit was utterly silent.
The blaring warnings continued, red lock-on triangles flashing ever brighter on the screen. Any closer and the weapons would surely fire!
"Someone beat us here and rebooted the defense systems, taking control," remarked Grand Sage Cawl. "Change the landing site before there's needless bloodshed."
But as he spoke, Datch calmly pulled out a teleportation gun and shot it at the floor.
A swirling, glowing green portal appeared. Datch jumped in, and the portal closed instantly.
Silence fell. Everyone looked at each other, wondering what he was up to.
Seconds later, the warning broadcasts abruptly stopped. The red lock-on icons vanished from the screen.
It was soon discovered that Datch had teleported directly into the defensive system's control room, shut down the triggering device, and quietly logged out the fortress's weapon array.
"We're safe now," reported the Navigator.
Grand Sage Cawl smiled wryly. "The Nameless One really wastes no time."
"Land as planned at the main pad and we'll investigate the source of the defense reboot," he ordered.
The Scythes of the Emperor warriors exchanged amazed, awed glances. This Nameless One's abilities surpassed anything they'd imagined.
…
Once the crisis had passed, the ships landed one after another at the fortress's vast and dusty landing field.
Hatches opened; people poured out, began unloading equipment, and set up temporary defenses.
Grand Sage Cawl led the tech-priests in examining the fortress and quickly found anomalies.
Beneath the ancient stone floors and within the walls, countless metallic, silvery cables stretched.
But these weren't of human make—they seemed more like roots, climbing through turret emplacements and energy nodes, parasitically warping them.
These cables had caused the defense system to reboot, preventing recognition of Oberdeii's codes.
"Mount Pharos—or more precisely, something inside the mountain—is awakening," Cawl declared, slicing through a cable with a mechadendrite. Green energy surged to reconnect the severed ends instantly.
"It's consuming the defensive legacy left by the Scythes of the Emperor, converting it to its own first defense line. We interrupted the process, but if we'd come any later, the entire fortress would be fully transformed."
"This is necrodermis technology," the Proto-Primaris Leader muttered, crouching to cut a cable, only for the metal to liquefy into green light and reform.
"So… the whole planet is becoming a new Necron tomb-world?" Oberdeii frowned. "But when we were stationed here, there was nothing unusual. Why was Sotha ever a tomb world?"
"No, you're mistaken," Cawl corrected. "Sotha wasn't a tomb world. My information says it acted only as a prison, and the Pharos Lighthouse as a special beacon."
He summoned a holo-projection, displaying Sotha's structure.
"The Necrons are the true rulers of the material universe. Their understanding and manipulation of physical law rivals the miracles of the Warp that other races rely on."
"The Pharos Lighthouse is the cornerstone of their FTL travel and galaxy-spanning communications network. Each lighthouse is a local hub linked by quantum resonance, covering the Milky Way independent of the Warp."
"And that is exactly why we're here," Cawl's gaze fell on his companions. "We must reach the Lighthouse core, fully activate it, and retrieve the vital data."
"The Pharos Lighthouse technology could solve the hazardous deep void navigation issues on the Imperium's dark frontier. If successful, it would herald a new golden age for humanity; even the gods would be powerless against us then."
….
After a brief discussion, the team split into two groups: Grand Sage Cawl would lead the main research and security team into the Pharos Lighthouse, while Oberdeii led the Scythes of the Emperor on a very different task—to finally cleanse their chapter's hidden shame by seeking out and eliminating the gene-stealing hybrid Patriarch lurking in their midst.
After weighing his options, Datch decided to assist Oberdeii first, reasoning that dealing with the crafty Patriarch would be far more efficient. Once the Scythes of the Emperor attained their redemption, he could help Cawl retrieve the lighthouse's secrets—completing both quests in one fell swoop.
…
Once Cawl's group had delved deep into the tunnels, Oberdeii surreptitiously released several prisoners he'd kept in reinforced containment throughout their journey: chained genestealer hybrids.
The hybrids' third arms had been severed, their carapaces scarred and marked by experiments and imprisonment—they were guides, saved from among the infected refugees years ago for this day.
"All right, take us to your Patriarch," Oberdeii ordered, fastening their chains to his bracer.
One of the hybrids, threatened with torture, screamed in pain as razor spikes jabbed into its flesh before reluctantly surrendering and leading the party down the fortress's shadowy corridors.
They passed through grand but ruined founder's halls, mounted spiral stairs, and descended into the cold, damp crypts below—dispatching lurking hybrids as they went. But this was only the edge of the Patriarch's den.
The hybrid led them into a deeper, natural tunnel spiraling downward.
On the way, they encountered a small patrol of Necron scarabs: metallic beetles with glowing green compound eyes that surged en masse through the tunnels, sending chills down their spines.
A brief but intense firefight ensued—swarms of scarabs were shattered by the Scythes of the Emperor's blast charges and heavy weaponry.
Oberdeii's party pressed on, pursuing the hybrids into a cavern illuminated by giant crystal clusters and clogged with sticky biomass.
There, the target at last—the Genestealer Patriarch—awaited.
The Patriarch was far larger than typical hybrids, its shell as thick as tank armor. All four arms ended in razor-sharp bone blades, and corrosive drool dripped endlessly from its gaping maw.
Surrounded by his last few fanatical bodyguards, the Patriarch glowered at the Scythes of the Emperor with feral hostility. Against this pressure, the Scythe members steeled themselves, tightening their grips on their weapons, bracing for the bloodbath to come.
The Patriarch threw back his head and howled, signaling his guards to attack—
But Datch, cool as ever, retrieved a strange, antique panpipe from his inventory—a Hypnotic Panpipe riddled with air holes.
He put it to his lips and played a haunting, warbling melody.
Invisible soundwaves flooded the chamber.
The Patriarch and his bodyguards, poised to attack, suddenly froze.
The wild light faded from their compound eyes; their massive bodies swayed unsteadily, bone blades drooping limp at their sides.
"What are you waiting for? Go deal with them!" Datch prompted the dazed Oberdeii, wondering why NPCs would just stand around doing nothing in a battle.
The Scythes of the Emperor quickly caught on, pouring their pent-up fury on their hated foes.
Explosions rang out as they blasted the hybrids apart.
Oberdeii let out a roar and charged the Patriarch, driving his power sword through a gap in the monster's armor with a sizzling arc. The wail of the powered weapon tore flesh and sent blood spurting—a brutal sight.
As life faded, the Patriarch's mind briefly flickered back to lucidity. Confusion filled its dimming compound eyes—it could vaguely recall leaping at the enemy in yellow and black armor, then being torn apart.
Now it lay on the ground, unable to fathom what had happened.
But no one would explain. During its hypnotized state, all it saw was an illusion.
Oberdeii strode up and pressed a blast pistol to the stunned Patriarch's severed head, pulling the trigger.
Bang—
With that dull report, the source of Sotha's corruption and the Scythes of the Emperor's disgrace was at last executed.
…
"Thank you, Nameless One," Oberdeii said, turning to Datch and dropping to one knee with fist to chest, his voice sincerely grateful. The rest of the Scythe knelt as well.
"You have cleansed the stain of our chapter and brought true salvation. The Scythes of the Emperor will never forget your kindness."
Instead, Datch was carefully watching task completion alerts:
[Congratulations: you have completed the quest and put an end to the Scythes of the Emperor's shameful past.]
[Rewards: 1200 EXP, 1200 Points, 100 Fame, Mirror of the Inverted World ×1]
Mirror obtained. Now, just one thing left: a chance to meet the gender-swapped Emperor and the four Chaos Gods...
With more quests left unfinished, Datch glanced at his quest interface a moment, then closed it and brought up the minimap.
Meanwhile, Cawl had already reached the depths of Mount Pharos, entering the core hall of the lighthouse.
Datch planned his route and slipped off down a corridor leading deep below.
Oberdeii, still kneeling, continued to display his heartfelt gratitude—until the Apothecary, Arritus, lightly elbowed him from behind.
Snapped out of it, Oberdeii watched as the Nameless One slid down a corridor toward the lighthouse.
...Thud...
Oberdeii, still kneeling, was at a loss. Couldn't they at least let him finish his speech?
This is so awkward...
"What do we do now?" another Scythe asked.
Oberdeii sighed, rubbed his temples helplessly.
"What else—chase after him! We need to catch up to the Nameless One!"
….
The core of Mount Pharos was filled with necrodermis-inspired technology.
Here, countless Necrocraft scarabs swarmed, devouring rock and converting it to energy and usable matter.
Countless undead constructs stood guard, tasked with protecting the prisoners.
To obtain detailed data on the lighthouse, Grand Sage Cawl released King Zarhulash—Pharos's prisoner.
When Datch arrived, King Zarhulash was already floating in the air, proclaiming his return to the world, demanding Cawl kneel in fealty.
"We are the true gods, the living embodiment of this universe. The warp is but a pale shadow; we are the light, and the all."
Datch, unimpressed, pulled out his Sparklence—preparing to capture this menace in a Master Ball.
"Honestly, I'm pretty light myself," he quipped.
"Tiga…!"