The third layer of space in the Kingdom of Disorder.
Outside the silver spiral tower, the black wolf, after countless cycles of nightmare reincarnation, had completely abandoned the thought of escape.
It had been waiting for the black-armored giant to appear, but he never came.
The black wolf could no longer tell how much time had passed. It could sense that time flowed here, but not like the outside world; there was no distinction between light and dark.
The place it was trapped in was shaped by some strange rule, forced into an endlessly repeating scene.
It was like the dreamscapes it itself once created: an independent space where "a day" was impossible to define.
Dazed and half-asleep, the black wolf didn't know how long it had been until footsteps sounded in its ears.
At first, it suspected it was still in the nightmare, until the black-armored giant came to its side. Only then did it weakly turn its head.
The black wolf's pupils contracted. It saw a scene completely different from before.
The black-armored giant appeared before it, holding aloft something that looked like amber.
The black wolf sprang up instantly, torn between dread and expectation. It hoped the nightmare was ending, yet feared it was only another illusion.
It stammered: "I really… I sincerely want to be your pet."
"Good."
Nareth spoke. He hadn't sensed the wolf's sincerity, but rather felt the invisible threads binding it to him.
He and the black wolf had already formed the first link.
Nareth's lips curled faintly. He told the wolf, "Hungry, aren't you? I brought you food."
"Compared to those humans under the dome, this one's dream is richer, more layered, a far tastier meal."
The black wolf's heart churned at his words.
It nearly drooled like the bestial wolves, but managed to restrain its instincts.
It was once the Eight-Legged Black Wolf, worshiped by millions. It was no mere beast. It was a myth.
The black wolf fought to maintain its dignity, to not appear as a ravenous animal.
"I am willing to serve my master."
Nareth nodded slightly. He infused spirit into his power gauntlet, releasing the restraints that bound Slau Dha.
The Autarch awoke slowly, still disoriented. Before he could comprehend where he was, Nareth and the black wolf vanished from sight.
Slau Dha suddenly found himself standing in a whirl of swirling colors. From the void, an evil claw reached for him.
It was the wicked hand of Slaneesh
When the black wolf dragged Slau Dha into the dream, it discovered that crafting nightmares to instill fear in its food was not easy.
Just forming the claw consumed a huge amount of strength; to construct a complete likeness of the prey was impossible.
If not for the prey's own shaken spirit, the dream might already have been broken.
'This food is delicious! Its fear is so much more varied than that of humans. For the first time, I realize, fear comes in so many flavors. The fear of prey before its predator, the fear of mortals before gods…'
The black wolf devoured greedily, "chewing" the prey like tender steak and fresh vegetables. Its hunger faded quickly.
Nareth observed the wolf's trembling body gradually calm; it had successfully dragged Slau Dha into its dream.
The Primarch acted. His consciousness extended, spreading toward Slau Dha.
Within the nightmare, Slau Dha's defenses were wide open. Nareth's awareness seeped effortlessly into his mind.
As the Primarch began excavating Slau Dha's psychic treasures, on Necromunda, Adams received word from Leandro Hemar: a massive necropolis had been found in the Fourth Hive.
Adams, suspecting that the necropolis of the Iron Lords might hold mechanical creations, spoils belonging to the Techmarines, contacted Rosicky.
Together, they traveled to the Fourth Hive, where, deep in the foul underhive, they met Leandro Hemar.
The rapidly rising Hemar family was now seen by many Necromundans as a ruling house.
Leandro himself had become the most powerful man on Necromunda. For someone of his rank to personally descend into the filthy underhive was unthinkable.
Yet the governor came himself. He knew well that the Shadow of Order was Necromunda's true master.
Leandro bowed before Adams.
"My lord, I had meant to send my men to retrieve everything from the tomb and offer it to you."
"But once inside, they were attacked by the walking dead. The losses were heavy."
Realizing the Death Lord might not understand local traditions, Leandro explained:
"My lord, Necromunda has always had a culture of the dead. When food shipments failed to arrive on time, starving workers even resorted to cannibalism."
"They formed a shamanistic sect called the Corpse-Grinders, worshipping a being known as the Lord of Flesh."
He sighed, tapping on his dataslate to display a recording.
"This funerary culture was brought here by the first colonists more than five thousand years ago. In that age, nobles were buried with their servants and slaves."
"That practice has long since died out. This tomb must be at least four thousand years old."
On the images, Adams saw tattered, pale-skinned corpses staggering forward.
"These tomb-servants, for some reason, became walking corpses. Fearless of death, bullets, and lasfire could not stop them. Even torn apart, they dragged their bodies forward. My men suffered terrible casualties."
"I dared not use flamers or similar weapons, for they might destroy what lies within the tomb. Surely, my lord, that is not what you would want."
At this, the Gravedigger's eyes gleamed. It was the first time he had encountered the walking dead, and immediately, he was intrigued.
"You did well."
Adams gazed toward the necropolis. Its entrance was a round gate with eight metal spider-legs splayed open, revealing the deep darkness within.
In his mind, he reconstructed the door's original form: a metal disc with retracted spider-legs, exactly like the sigil of the Araneus Continuity.
With Lymans Ear, the Shadow of Order distinguished the shuffling steps of corpses inside and the dry rustle of spiders crawling.
He turned to Rosicky, who was studying the surrounding structures: "The Gene-Father granted me a gift. To those corpses, I will seem one of their own. I will enter alone to scout."
The Forge Lord lowered his gaze, then nodded.
"I have been developing a short-range teleport device, based on Mars' armor-teleport research combined with the Araneus Continuity portal technology."
"I've tested it fifty-two times, all successful."
"Once activated, it can target-teleport within ten kilometers."
Five hours later, Rosicky commanded Techmarines and servitors to erect three adamantium pillars at the necropolis gate, installing the teleport device.
Adams removed his power armor, replacing it with an experimental teleport harness fitted to his body.
Without the suppression of its life-support systems, the Gravedigger's chill aura spread unchecked, soaking the thin metal armor in icy dread.
The Gravedigger strode into the main tomb. The stench of rot and death engulfed him.
He felt nothing. In his darkened gaze, the tomb was perfectly clear.
Before him shuffled a band of corpses.
Their eyes were unfocused as they staggered down the passage, colliding with walls and each other.
The Gravedigger entered their midst, weaving through them, even bumping into some. Not a single corpse struck at him.
Back when he had been the Corpse Collector, his body temperature was already low, but not yet corpse-cold.
Now, ascended as the Gravedigger, his flesh was ice itself. Among the dead, he was indistinguishable.
He pressed onward. The passage widened until it opened into a circular burial plaza.
From pits in the ground, corpses crawled out. Others stumbled and fell into the void.
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu