Rimuru POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
The forest was gone.
Where there had once been trees that towered like living guardians, there was only fire and ash.
The ground quaked under every step of the Cybertronian war engines and other mechanical abominations, and the clash of steel, magic, and flesh had turned the Great Jura Forest into a wasteland.
I'd seen war before, I'd seen armies clash, I had even taken part in a few of them, but never like this.
Never on a scale where even the land itself seemed ready to break, where even the world itself seems to cry out in pain.
And then, as I take a look up in the sky, I immediately notice that the rift has grown much wider than before.
The wound in the sky keeps tearing apart, stretching until it spans the heavens.
The stars beyond it vanished, swallowed by something that wasn't space, wasn't even void; it was hunger, pure and endless.
The invisible pressure I've been feeling deepened, crushing against my body until even breathing felt heavy.
Suddenly, as I focus my attention on it, I notice something else, something much more foreboding. I notice a shadow moving inside the rift.
Not a shape. Not a person. Something so vast that my brain can't actually process it all at once.
Plates of metal the size of continents shifting into place, a maw big enough to devour entire worlds in a single bite, massive eyes that burned like supernovas, but instead of being warm and comforting, they are cold and full of malice.
Unicron. The Chaos Bringer. The Eater of Worlds.
The immense robotic entity is primarily gold and dark gray in color, with sharp, spiked features and horns resembling a demonic crown on the top of its head.
Unicron doesn't simply enter this reality; Unicron rewrites it, its presence is an invasion all its own, one much more forceful than anything we've experienced until now.
Laws bend, logic buckle, Magicules twist like screaming threads pulled too tight. And then the bleeding began.
The rift pulses. Colors no mortal eye is ever meant to see pour outward, the very air ripples with whispers that aren't sound but thoughts, bleeding into my mind.
My slime body ripples involuntarily, resisting corruption that threatens to seep into me as I immediately realize what is happening, the very thing Jayr-san warned us about, making me softly breathe, barely able to form the words, "The Warp…"
The Warp had come to this world, and with it all kinds of horror that originated from that dark and depressing universe I hoped existed only in our fantasies.
Coming to that frightening conclusion, I immediately use my newly evolved Telepathy to contact all my followers and warn them, [Everyone. Be careful and protect your mind. The Warp has invaded our world. Do not let it corrupt you. If you hear strange voices in your mind, shut them down. If you feel overwhelmed, focus on our bond! We will fight and overcome this together!]
Aletha POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
At first, I thought it was battle fatigue. The voices creeping into my thoughts, muttering promises and threats, screaming and laughing in the same breath.
Then I realized the voices aren't mine, they are everywhere, and immediately after that, I started to notice so many more obvious changes.
The air shimmered, and the battlefield changed. Pools of blood appeared where there had been stone. Trees twisted into obscene shapes, faces stretching across their bark. Shadows writhed into forms that had too many limbs, too many mouths.
And then the Daemons arrived, not the ones originating from this universe, but the ones whose very existence seemed to faintly resonate with my Blessing. The Chaos Daemons of the Warhammer 40k Universe.
They pour through like an infection spilling from an open wound: grotesque shapes, howling beasts, twisted parodies of mortals.
Some walk on clawed limbs that sink into the ground like it was liquid, others crawl from puddles of gore, eyes glowing with madness.
The battlefield had been chaotic before. Now it is madness given flesh and will.
My hand shakes on my CAD as I immediately force Occlumency into place, locking my mind tight.
However, the whispers don't stop; they laugh at my walls, they mock me, promise me power if I'd just let them in.
At this point, I mutter with an unsteady voice, "Bloody hell… We're fighting this now?"
The Immaterium, also referred to as the Empyrean, the Aether, the Sea of Souls, the Realm of Chaos, Warpspace, or most commonly, "the Warp," is an alternate dimension of purely psychic energy that echoes and underlies the familiar four dimensions of the material reality of the Warhammer 40K Universe.
The Warp is the source of all psychic powers and known instances of so-called "sorcery" or "magic" as well as the home dimension of the powerful entities known as the Chaos Gods and their myriad legions of Daemonic servants.
The psychic energy that makes up the Immaterium is believed to be the direct result of the existence of sentience in the universe, in particular, the intelligent species.
Considered to be a dark reflection of the material universe, the Warp is an ocean of chaotic psychic energy, raw emotion given physical form.
In fact, the terms "Chaos" and the "Warp" are often used interchangeably by those aware of their existence.
This is the main reason why, after I was momentarily shaken up by the sudden emergence of the Warp in this reality, I quickly regain my bearings as I confidently mutter, "Good. Let's see how the forces of chaos will fare against the very Champion of Chaos."
Shortly after saying that, I focus on the most powerful magic I've ever learned, Magia Erebea.
The forbidden technique created by Evangeline A.K. McDowell over a period of 10 years, in which the user absorbs offensive magic designed to harm the enemy into their own body, to the point where it fuses with their very soul.
The technique feeds on the user's body and soul, but in return, the user gains power many times that of any ordinary person.
In response to the activation of the technique, my skin turns pitch black as a series of flowing, glowing tattoo-like designs appear over my arms as I channel Magical Power to them, and I prepare to fully unleash my magical might.
Then I catch sight of Jayr through the storm, and he doesn't move, doesn't flinch. His eyes are locked on the Champion of Power and the sky above, his Spiral Cosmo burning like an entire universe inside him.
Waiting for the right moment. Waiting to unleash his formidable might on our enemies.
Nikita POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
The Warp spreads like a sickness, every passing second, more of the battlefield falls to it.
I rip the head off from the now headless body of a Daemon that lunged at me, its body dissolving into black smoke that reeks of copper and rot. However, another replaces it almost immediately, making me mutter out loud, "There is no end."
Around me, the warriors fighting by our side scream, Hobgoblins are getting dragged into pools of ichor, Tempest Wolves are swarmed by beasts of shadow.
Even Zandeer's Grimm Hollows are faltering, their forms unraveling as the Warp's corruption gnaws at them.
I have seen and experienced many horrors before; I had thought I understood despair, but this is different.
This is annihilation, taint, the Warp doesn't just want to kill us; it wants to unmake us, corrupt us, and twist us in a creepy, mutated version of ourselves.
And still Jayr waits, his aura flares brighter with every passing second, but he still doesn't move.
His restraint is almost unbearable to watch, making me whisper while my clawed hand rips through the chest of another corrupted beast, "Damn you, Jayr. If you're going to do something... Do it soon. This is getting quite ugly."
At this point, I decide to move on to the next part of the plan and finally make use of my Witch heritage.
Without wasting any time, I make full use of my Vampire speed to quickly retreat to the rear line, where an area for my rituals was already prepared.
Once there, I decide to start by using a Cleansing Spell on myself, a ritualistic spell used to cleanse a person of dark magic, possession, or to break a link from a target to another malicious entity or force.
I burn a bouquet of sage and a few other items tied together as a sacrifice as I chant, "Nettoyer timoun sa yo. Nettoyer timoun sa yo. Nettoyer timoun sa yo."
Soon, the clear smoke produced by the sacrificial bouquet unaturally spirals around my body before it gently enters my body through my nose.
Then, after a few moments, I feel the intense urge to open my mouth, and I don't fight it, calmly opening my mouth and watching as a dark, black smoke comes out of it and flies toward the burning bouquet, igniting itself and completely disappearing.
At the same time, I immediately feel a strong sense of relief as the muted whispers that were haunting me since the Warp bleed into this reality are completely gone.
Now that I am completely clean from the Wrap's influence, I move on to help my allies as I quickly start to prepare to perform a Purification Ritual, which is used to purify the mind infected with dark magic, or other malicious influences, or even to free an individual affected by possession.
This one is much more complex, but luckily, we already prepared for it beforehand, as we made sure to give an enchanted bead to everyone taking part in this war, and by everyone, I mean every single warrior who is fighting against this invasion all over the Central World.
Thinking about the insane amount of enchanted beads needed, I can't help but smile wryly while mentally commenting, 'Luckily, Jayr can create and distribute such a massive amount of enchanted beads in a few moments. Without his help, such an endeavor would become a massive logistical headache.'
Shortly after thinking that, I focus back on the ritual and mutter, "This one is going to take a lot out of me... After all, it is going to affect the whole world. However, at this point, it is necessary."
With that resolution, I don't waste any more time and start to chant, "Reinigen monde tavo veneno. Reinigen monde tavo veneno. Reinigen monde tavo veneno..."
Paul POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
I fight like a man possessed.
My fists split steel, my blood coats the ground, I rip through Daemons, through Constructs, through anything that comes within my range.
My body is breaking, but I don't care, as it will soon recover by itself, stronger than before. All I can see is him.
The Champion of Power.
He still hadn't moved. He stands at the rear, arms folded, watching as if this slaughter is just a play staged for his sick amusement.
And now Unicron looms behind him, and the Chaos Gods laugh, and the Warp tears reality apart.
Hopeless.
I'd never admitted that word before. Not once. But now it digs into my heart. Even a Viltrumite isn't enough here. Even I isn't enough.
The whispers find me then. They tell me they can make me stronger. They tell me I can avenge my family if I just surrender.
For a moment, just a moment, I almost listen.
Suddenly, I hear a very familiar music resounding in my head that completely shuts off those tempting whispers, [♪I hear voices in my head, they council me, they understand, they talk to me.♪]
This is the Entrance Theme of my childhood favorite wrestler, Randy Orton, an unsettling, fitting song for the current situation.
Then Jayr's voice cuts into my skull as he repeats, talking over the music that keeps resounding in my mind, [Stay calm. Be firm. Hold on. Don't lose yourself. Just a moment longer. We will start our counterattack soon. They will pay.]
Hearing those words, I clench my jaw, forcing my fists to move again while thinking, 'Despite knowing Jayr for only a few months... I've learned to trust him. Until now, everything he said he could do, he delivered. If he said wait, I'd wait. Even if it kills me.'
With that conviction, I fully focus back on fighting my enemies while the song Voices still resounds in my mind, suppressing the whispers of the Warp.
Zandeer POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
After months of constantly producing them, my Grimm Hollows are almost endless; they have no fear, no hesitation, no will but mine.
After their evolution, they all look the same; they took the shape of a humanoid jackal, possessing sharp teeth and a fierce expression.
Their body are primarily black, with a tan, cloth-like garment wrapped around their waist.
The Grimm Hollows' arms are dark, ending in clawed hands. Around their neck and shoulders are numerous strips of what looks like tattered parchment or papyrus inscribed with hieroglyphic-like symbols.
Their head is adorned with the usual white Hollow mask in the form of a jackal head.
They all hold a long, wooden-bladed staff topped with a golden, ankh-shaped ornament.
From the staff's top emanates a swirling, bright cyan light, which is their Reiyoku.
(Image Here - Grimm Hollows)
They are all as powerful as Vasto Lorde-level Arrancars, making them quite the formidable force, and yet, for the first time, they falter.
The Warp ate them, their shadows dissolved into writhing smoke, their screams blending with the whispers of madness.
I can feel the corruption clawing at my own soul, trying to pry me open, but I refuse to capitulate and snarl, "No. You'll not take them. You'll not take me."
At this point, I fully stimulate my Reiryoku (Spiritual Power), unleashing a massive pillar of black Reiatsu (Spiritual Pressure) with purple outlines.
As my Reiatsu falls upon the battlefield, its special nature empowers the struggling Grimm Hollows who resonate with it and soon unleash their own Reiatsu, fighting off the effects of the Warp.
This is good enough as a stopgap measure, but if I truly want to change the tide of the battle, then there is no doubt that I have to unseal my Zanpakuto and unleash my Resurrection.
Then I look across the battlefield, at Jayr, his Spiral Cosmo flares brighter than ever, threads of energy I can't see binding themselves to the very fabric of this reality, making me realize what he is about to do.
And for the first time since the battle began, a smile forms on my face as I mutter, "About damn time."
Jayr POV - Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken Universe, Central World, Magic Continent, Great Jura Forest, Tempest - 2013 AMB
I have waited. Every second since the Champion of Power and his army arrived, every heartbeat since Unicron emerged, every breath since the Warp bled into this world, and I had held my power back, I had let my allies bleed, I had let the world itself teeter on the brink of complete destruction as the battle all over the world grew in intensity.
All of that because the trap has to spring at the perfect moment, and now that moment has finally come.
The battlefield is collapsing into madness, the Champion of Power's arrogance has reached its peak, his smirk carved into his face as if this is already a complete victory.
Unicron's bulk warps the sky as its presence threatens to devour and destroy everything.
Lastly and most importantly, the Chaos Gods revel in their intrusion with their Chaos Daemons pouring endlessly into the world and finally fully materialized into this reality, completely leaving the safety of the Warp.
I take a moment to look at their figures, starting by the one named Khorne, also called the "Blood God," the "Lord of Skulls," the "Lord of Rage," the "Lord of Blood," "Taker of Skulls," the "Hunter of Souls," and "Kharneth" among many other titles, is the Chaos God of war, hatred, rage, wrath, blood, martial honour, strength and murder.
The Blood God has taken the form of a broad and muscular humanoid who stands hundreds of feet tall.
He has the face of a savage, snarling dog, though the god's twisted features are all but hidden by a baroque helm decorated with the skulls of conqueror kings.
Khorne is often referred to as a "he," with the masculine gender, though in fact, like all the entities composed of psychic energy called the Chaos Gods, it in fact has no gender.
Khorne's exaggerated physique is further distorted by heavy, overlapping plates of armour fashioned from brass and blackened iron.
Its every word is a growl of endless fury, and its roars of bloodlust echo across its realm.
Khorne broods from a throne of carved brass, atop a mountain of skulls.
The macabre trophies are the fleshless heads of the Blood God's champions, stacked alongside those of their defeated opponents.
A hundred thousand species are represented, from Human heads beyond counting to Tyranid skulls the size of hive city hab-blocks.
The ever-growing pile of bloodstained bone reflects the material victories of the Blood God's followers, feeding Khorne's glory but never quenching its thirst for blood and death.
At Khorne's side rests a great two-handed sword, a legendary blade capable of laying waste to the substance of worlds with a single blow.
This fell weapon is known by various names to the different intelligent species of the galaxy, including Woebringer, Warmaker, and the End of All Things.
(Image Here - Khorne)
Then I move on and look at Tzeentch, also known as the "Changer of Ways," the "Lord of Change," "Lord of Sorcery," the "Lord of Entropy," the "Great Conspirator," the "Weaver of Destinies," and the "Architect of Fate," among many other names and titles, is the Chaos God of change, evolution, mutation, intrigue, ambition, knowledge, sorcery, destiny, lies and trickery.
Just like Khorne, Tzeentch is often referred to as a "he," with the masculine gender, though in fact, like all the entities composed of psychic energy called the Chaos Gods, it in fact has no gender.
While the other Dark Gods adopt relatively fixed forms much of the time, Tzeentch manifests in a multitude of guises, constantly hiding his true form; however, my godly mind can easily look beyond his guises and see his true figure.
Tzeentch's true form is that of a humanoid in a basic sense, possessing a torso and what seems to be a seated posture with multiple limbs.
However, his features are far from human; his head is dominated by a mass of tentacles or appendages, from which numerous eyes protrude, creating a sense of overwhelming observation.
These tentacles, along with his arms and the other body parts, including his face and chest, are colored in shades of purple, pink, and off-white, giving the Chaos God a grotesque, almost fleshy appearance.
The Chaos God's mouth is a gaping maw filled with rows of sharp teeth, adding to its menacing presence. A central, single eye is visible on its chest.
Tzeentch is draped with what appears to be a ceremonial or religious garment, a purple cloth with gold geometric patterns and a central circular symbol.
The firmament surrounding Tzeentch is heavy with magic; it weaves like liquid smoke about its head, forming subtle and interwoven patterns.
Forms of places and people appear in the smoke as Tzeentch contemplates their fate.
Those who appear there will inevitably find their minds, bodies, or destinies mutating into strange new forms, for none can come to Tzeentch's attention and remain unchanged.
(Image Here - Tzeentch)
I move on and brifly take a look at the most disgusting one of the Chaos Gods, Nurgle, also known as the "Plague Lord," "Grandfather Nurgle, "Father Nurgle, "Papa Nurgle," the "Plague God," the "Lord of Pestilence," the "Fly Lord," "Plaguefather," the "Great Corruptor," the "Master of Plague and Pestilence," and the "Lord of Decay" among many other honorifics, is the Chaos God of disease, decay, despair, destruction, death and rebirth.
In particular, the emotion of despair in mortals empowers the Plague God more than any other.
Nurgle, like the other major Chaos Gods, does not show one single form that can be recorded, shared, analysed, or conceived.
Additionally, Nurgle is often referred to as a "he," with the masculine gender, though in fact, like all the entities composed of psychic energy called Chaos Gods, it in fact has no gender.
He is an immense, bloated humanoid, his body swollen with putrefaction.
His skin is leathery and necrotic, his surface pocked with running sores, swelling buboes, and oozing wounds.
Internal organs bulging with decay spill through splits in the ruptured skin to hang like bunches of scrofulous grapes around his vast girth.
He is a vast mound of rotting flesh, with open sores and gaping wounds in which his lesser Daemonic minions like Nurglings cavort and frolic, bursting forth from his pustules and suckling upon their dripping foulness.
Weeping pustules ooze filth, and his bowels constantly issue forth putrescent waste.
His sickening, pus-covered form is accompanied by an enveloping cloud of buzzing flies.
Beneath his fingernails, maggots and other carrion feeders lay eggs around which develop cysts that periodically burst open and spew their rancid payloads.
Rot and decay are part of Nurgle's nature, but so, it seems, are jocularity and enthusiasm. Such is the paradox of Nurgle.
Indeed, it may be his boundless energy, the passion with which he delights in his work, and his irrepressible joviality that erode the minds of so many who contemplate his existence.
It seems impossible to believe that a rotund, foetid purveyor of plague and ruin could simultaneously positively beam with mirth and have such concern for the billions of souls upon whom he has inflicted his wracking and hideous poxes.
(Image Here - Nurgle)
In the end, I look at the last of the Chaos Gods, Slaanesh, also known as the "Dark Prince," the "Prince of Pleasure," the "Lord of Excess," the "Perfect Prince," and the "Prince of Chaos" in the Imperium of Man and "She Who Thirsts" among the Aeldari, is the Chaos God of pleasure, pain, hedonism, excess, perfection and decadence. Lust, pride, and self-indulgence are the hallmarks of all who follow it.
While Khorne is a frightful and terrible warrior, Tzeentch's sorcery forces its form to defy mortal logic, and Nurgle is the ultimate embodiment of its own decaying and physically disgusting creations, Slaanesh alone is divinely beautiful.
While generally referred to as a "he" by Humans and as a female by the Aeldari, Slaanesh is actually neither gender, combining characteristics of both and perfecting them.
Slaanesh typically appears in an androgynous form in which it is a woman on the right side and a man on the left with two sets of devilish horns growing from its head.
Slaanesh can assume any physical form; male, female, both at the same time, or no gender at all, but it prefers male bodies. However, in whatever physical form it chooses, Slaanesh is perfection.
A long-limbed, elegant figure with a haunting, almost frightening beauty, Slaanesh's appearance depends more on the observer than the observed, changing eagerly to please and seduce the eye of the beholder.
Whatever its form, two pairs of slender horns always rise from the god's flowing golden hair.
Slaanesh is wearing luxuriantly lined, form-fitting armour and bearing a jade sceptre that is said to be its greatest treasure.
(Image Here - Slaanesh)
With the arrival of all my targets, the surging Spiral Cosmo within my body answers my will.
The anchors I had buried across this universe awoke, threads of my essence blaze to life, connecting, intertwining, resonating.
They form a lattice that spans the battlefield, then the continent, then the world, then even beyond out in space.
The Ultimate Skill Solomon stirs within me. Lord of the Universe. Ruler of Domains.
My hands tremble, my heart thunders, my Digimon Partners gathered close, their eyes locked on me, their confidence absolute as I whisper, "Now."
Then I finally unleash it.
Light erupts across the battlefield, chains of Spiral Cosmo surge upward from the ground, spiraling into the heavens.
The sky folds inward, space itself warps around my will, and for a moment, the universe shudders, then screams as I cut it away from the rest of creation.
The Daemons howl as the Warp's bleeding into the other universes is severed. Unicron roars, his voice shaking stars. The Chaos Gods shriek in outrage. And the Champion of Power finally moves, his smirk faltering for the first time.
I stand at the center of it all, my restraint finally broken, my trap complete as I start floating up in the sky with my arms spread open as I theatrically announce, making my voice reach everyone within my personal universe, "Welcome. To my universe. Your prison. Your grave."