bookbashuk Page 424
Page 424
And, they successfully became the new masters of this shimmering galaxy.
But those things that were once silent and hidden have never truly disappeared.
In the cruel physical world, time will always erase everything, and the prosperity of mankind may just be a drop in the ocean of time—but in the unpredictable subspace, time does not truly exist.
The war between the Old Ones and the Deathbringers disrupted the Warp. The High Heaven was not originally in such chaos, but after that divine war, everything changed permanently.
Above the octagon of chaos, four gods grasped the reins of power.
Gods exist and continue to exist; their existence transcends time, and is eternal in a single thought.
For those races that once shone brightly but now lie dormant in the galaxy, awaiting a new opportunity, the warp is the real threat.
The Emperor, the Undefeated One, the Lord of Mankind, the Unformed King of Darkness, the one who will govern the faith of the entire human race, a candidate hidden behind an octagonal veil, should rightfully have garnered the attention of other races.
In the hidden darkness, their gaze never left; they watched, hoping that a new god would not descend.
In the decadent Eldar kingdom, the first cry of Slaanesh was born, and a new god wielded power, forever influencing the entire galaxy.
Now, will a new god be born in this newly formed, vast, and crumbling human empire?
They waited anxiously, the prophets of their races foretelling the fate of humanity, and when necessary, the alien races lurking in the darkness could reach out and stir up ripples on the river of destiny.
But an uninvited guest arrived.
In the vast human empire, the one despised by the gods slowly stepped onto the stage of the galaxy.
The stars twinkled, their light falling upon this unknown man who emerged from an agricultural planet.
He was originally a complete nobody.
But on the chessboard, the Lord of Mankind's hand moved slightly. He grasped the ominous, dull piece, which was entirely black, and pushed it to the pinnacle of the river of fate.
From this point on, [Pluto] officially made his debut.
This is what humans call him: the forsaken by the gods, the destroyer, the one rejected by all the gods, the fool, the truly soulless being, the one who has severed the cause and effect...
The raging fire atop the Perfect City, the dark shadows hanging over the World Eater Legion, the farcical feast on Nicaea, and the ultimate downfall of Prospero.
One by one, these glittering nodes of destiny fell within the subspace.
Countless destinies piled up, countless destinies converged, and under the scythe, the sound of shattering erupted.
Thus, the largest variable was born.
The expansion of the behemoth brought about, for the first time, the possibility of players and pieces exchanging places on the chessboard.
Once, a piece can give a player a chance to lose.
Perhaps this was the Lord of Humanity's original intention, but the River of Fate stirred, and under the power of the Four Gods, Hades fell into a long silence.
The various tribes looked on with disapproval.
[Pluto] is not unique to humans!
Perhaps the current Hades has not yet grown into a true god, or perhaps the overly obvious human characteristics of the Hades have caused these once glorious and still proud alien races to completely bow their heads. But the enormous treasure is there, the jewels within reach, exuding an alluring fragrance.
Perhaps the ancient overlords are still asleep, but those who have been the first to awaken have already stepped into the waves of fate; perhaps the divided old tribes are still unable to unite, but those who are fighting for their races have already grasped the sharp blade.
Amidst the restless alien races and the fractured galaxy, the unruly, the greedy, the arrogant, and those who sought to alter their fate were the first to reach out.
Hades is waiting for them.
He only needs to respond to them.
He is kind, and he responds to everything.
He was greedy; he devoured everything.
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"destiny!"
A loud aria resounded on the stage, and a blinding white light instantly illuminated the pure darkness. The loudest cry needed no accompaniment; the chosen actor shouted out the word.
"destiny!"
He repeated himself, speaking with deep emotion, his face bearing a mask that was completely unlike any clown mask he wore. It was a pure black mask, with a piercing crack running down from the upper left, beneath which a crimson light flickered.
Beneath the pitch-black stage, something was stirring, but until the very last moment, those on stage would never be able to see the faces of those below.
"—These beautiful words, these words that bind all beings, this great, magnificent, and exquisite destiny!"
The unicorn shrieked with a high-pitched laugh, his laughter growing ever sharper and more unrestrained. He mocked loudly and brazenly, laughing until he was breathless.
He is a lone eagle, a lone eagle occupying the entire stage, but he is more than that. He is the special one, the most special one, the only one in the eternal workings of the highest heaven.
Therefore, everyone on and off the stage, except for him, remained silent; the accompaniment ceased, and the dancers did not follow.
"You insignificant beings who struggle so desperately against fate!"
He burst into laughter and curses, standing on his tiptoes, his pointed shoes twitching, unleashing a wild and unrestrained solo dance.
"Prophecy, divination, tarot—you fools!"
“Fools! Blind men! Can’t your lowly hearts, as base as dirt, recognize the true path?! Can’t your tiny eyes, as small as beans, see the true master?!”
"The wise are always more silent than others—you fools who love to frolic! Can't you see the most silent being?!"
The unicorn spun, leaping off the stage and into the backstage, disappearing into complete darkness.
The ball began, and long tables were set out, laden with delicious food.
Other actors entered the stage, dressed in various costumes and speaking in different tones. They pushed and argued, drew sharp blades from their waists, and brandished them at their own kind.
The intense drumbeats began, followed by the high-pitched horns. The various spirit races argued, cursed, and were unable to reach a consensus or compromise.
The initially stirring music became chaotic, with discordant noises mixed in, rudely disrupting the rhythm of the entire piece.
On the stage, a cold glint flashed from a blade, blood splattered, insults swirled, arguments erupted, life and death were fought—chaotic and noisy.
The man of darkness was the first to smash his cup and leave the stage. The self-proclaimed calm and rational sage angrily left his seat. The hermit who held the spirit of the world left in silence. The lights were dim, and the place was littered with broken cups and plates, with blood flowing everywhere. The waiter carrying the tray slowly stepped from the corner to the center of the stage.
He removed the mask on top of the mask, revealing another mask that was half crying and half laughing.
"God—what should we do?"
The music stopped abruptly.
No one responded.
The waiter let out a shrill, eerie laugh. Trembling, he looked into the empty space opposite the stage and asked again,
"God—what should we do?"
A blinding light cheered as it shone upon him—but in that instant, the gate containing all paths and destinies opened to him—but in that instant!
Because in the next instant, the other false gods screamed!
An angry golden flame ignited, carrying with it a sky full of deathly smoke and dust. The out-of-the-way gaze of the one who had not yet descended fell upon this place for a moment, and the actor instantly retreated, trembling as he shrank back into the shadows of the stage, shaking with fear.
On the stage of the gods, they were nothing more than insignificant jesters!
The golden flames burned fiercely and raged, but it was nothing more than a bluff. After a brief moment of grandeur, it hastily departed with its sword.
From afar came the deafening sound of war drums, powerful enough to overturn the Milky Way.
Another war, one that did not belong to them, began.
On the stage, light shone down from the pitch-black ceiling, and chaotic whispers arose. The gods, who had been fighting for a long time, stopped their battle and put away their axes. Their tacit gazes met in the sky above, where the chess pieces could not look directly at them. Power was transferred, and the arrows that could kill gods were cast.
Huge, sharp arrows hung down from outside the stage, their sharpness pointing to a predetermined location.
The snake's tail, which coiled around it, was both supple and powerful, with shimmering light glide across its scales.
The representative of humanity took the stage, and steel roared as it charged toward another steel field. The embers of the perfect city were rekindled here, tiny golden flames burning quietly, their edges blackened.
They attacked each other in a chaotic frenzy, kinsmen wielding blades against each other, brothers drawing knives from each other—such a scene was tiresome enough. On the stage, similar scenes had just occurred time and time again.
Ordinary and boring.
Blood soaked the stage, all the actors had fallen, limbs piled upon limbs, heads looking at heads.
At the very edge of the stage, the corpse of a devout believer knelt, holding the sword in his hand to his neck, his eyes wide open, without a breath.
In the silence, the first soloist stepped back onto the stage.
His robes, black yet reflecting iridescent light, resembling silk stained with blood, adorned him as he slowly walked onto the stage, carrying the head of a rebel soldier.
"traitor--!!!"
He shouted loudly, strode to the front of the stage, raised the dead man's head high, and displayed it to the audience in triumph.
"A traitor who succumbs to fate—"
However, instead of applause or cheers, a loud sneer rang out from the quiet audience.
Immediately afterwards, sneers rose up in waves!
The audience below the stage burst into shrill laughter and loud mockery.
From the audience, at the graceful, serpentine tail where the arrows hung low, came a soft laugh that resonated with the layers of laughter.
This light laugh is completely hidden in the sea of laughter, yet it is also completely transcended by them. Like a phoenix singing among chickens, its voice is soft but surpasses that of others.
The snake's tail, which had been resting on the fully drawn bow, was easily released.
Time seemed to stand still.
The audience below mocked, displaying their various ugly behaviors; on the stage, a righteous figure stood firm, a lone eagle. Everything paused at that moment, leaving only that arrow—
The kneeling corpse on the platform moved.
The corpse is moving.
A dazzling golden light burst forth from the believer's eyes, and without hesitation, he plunged the sword in his hand into his throat. The splattered blood burned fiercely in the golden flames. At that moment, the foolish believer launched his own unique sacrifice!
The youngest queen, curiously holding the bow and arrow, let out a sigh of frustration.
But from below the stage, an even more magnificent and earth-shattering burst of laughter erupted—
The arrow, imbued with the power of the gods, reached its target. The sound of armor shattering rang out, accompanied by the sudden sealing of fate—but was fate truly locked away?! Could the first to mock fate be so fragile?!
Won't! ! !
Before Hades, destiny is never locked!
The unicorn fell silent, while thunderous applause erupted from the audience!
Deafening applause erupted, the audience screamed, laughed, and shouted. The audience rose to their feet, beaming with satisfaction, embracing each other and shedding tears of joy.
Hades fell, transforming into a truly benevolent, greedy, and foolish being.
One new dance drama after another was performed in front of the fallen figure of [Hades]. People laughed or cried, were angry or sad, but the audience below the stage had long since stopped watching. They cheered, straightened their costumes, sharpened their swords, and sheathed them.
Amidst the commotion, an annoyed grumble rang out above them, and the audience scattered, pushing and shoving as they left their seats, laughing loudly, and surged toward the stage.
The second farce of infidelity has ended, and the story of the fool has come to a close. They are contentedly enjoying the fool's ugliness as a small prelude to their grand drama.
Under the spotlight, the fool pulls out his heart, trembling as he points it at fate, sobbing as he cries out the words of his soul.
The audience members were noisy and booing, pushing and shoving each other. Some even started booing the stage for not moving on to the next act.
"Get down! Get down!!!"
The chess players in the heavens roared angrily, listening with satisfaction to a god's miscalculation. How wonderful! How melodious!
How I wish this beautiful scene could be repeated!
Finally, amidst the noisy, chaotic commotion, where it was impossible to distinguish between the stage and the audience, the most perfect one, favored by the youngest queen, took the stage.
Someone shushed them, and the noisy audience fell silent instantly; the silence was so profound you could hear a pin drop.
The Perfect One was not perfect at this moment; cracks appeared on his magnificent body. He trembled, he was furious, he angrily grabbed his long silver hair, and loudly questioned the empire, questioned fate, questioned all living beings.
On the stage, the sound of scales rustling through the air rang out, and the divine power began to descend.
A rustling sound arose from below the stage.
"The script..." "Where's the script?" "Aren't we rehearsing?" "The screenwriter—is there no screenwriter?!" "Who's in charge of the script?!" "No script?!" "Then what do we do..." "No response!"
Finally, a voice broke the noise.
"There's no script!" he roared. "Fools never follow scripts!"
"Time to go on stage! Go up there!!!"
A sigh of regret rose, but the people below the stage climbed up and emerged from the darkness with a resolute determination to sacrifice themselves.