"Enough talk, you perverted monstrosity! I was born solely to kill you. That is all there is to it. I will never join you in your filth."
Ynnead, the Aeldari God of the Dead, roared as he swung his divine blade toward Slaanesh.
He knew he had to strike now, or he might lose the courage to ever do so again. Having finally summoned the bravery to enter the Eye of Terror, he needed to gauge the true chasm of power that lay between himself and a Chaos God.
Besides, possessing a physical vessel in the material universe meant he could retreat at any time if necessary.
Ynnead's voice sounded like the grinding of cold tombstones. He leveled his divine blade, the Silent End, a weapon condensed from the pure concept of death itself, toward Slaanesh's myriad, shifting form that radiated ultimate temptation and twisted horror.
Wherever the blade edge passed, the viscous, joyful energy of the Warp seemed to freeze and lose its color, leaving behind fleeting traces of grey nothingness.
"Ah, such boring obstinance, my little death god. We have no substantive conflict, yet you insist on seeking my demise."
Slaanesh let out a sigh that was at once lazy and cruel. The Dark Prince's galaxy-spanning silhouette rolled elegantly within the chaotic light and shadow of the Eye of Terror. Countless faces, some devastatingly beautiful, others hideous, emerged simultaneously to project an ultimate allure and boundless horror capable of instantly drowning any mortal soul in depravity.
She Who Thirsts did not attack directly.
Instead, the Prince of Pleasure extended thousands of tendrils woven from pure sensory experience. Some exuded an intoxicating sweetness, others dripped with soul-corroding venom, and some flashed with the maddening light of bliss.
They moved like the most clinging lovers and the deadliest vipers, wrapping softly yet swiftly toward Ynnead.
"Feel the joy! Embrace your destiny! Become part of me and you shall obtain eternal ecstasy!"
Slaanesh's voice resonated directly within the depths of Ynnead's soul.
Every syllable carried an irresistible magic intended to dismantle his will and ignite any spark of desire or fear hidden within him.
However, the response came in the form of a cold, resolute slash of death from the Silent End.
As the God of the Dead, as the Aeldari's final hope, and as the ultimate weapon forged to slay Slaanesh, he would not retreat.
Shhh-la!
There was no earth-shattering explosion, only the heart-stopping sound of demise. Ynnead's power symbolized the death of the universe itself.
It represented every definition of "the end." Conceptually, true death had not existed for the Aeldari originally, as they would simply be reborn in the Warp upon passing. Before the Fall, the Aeldari were a race akin to gods, perfect to the extreme and surpassing the imagination of other species in realspace. They were the ultimate creations of the Old Ones.
But the birth of Slaanesh had changed everything. The Aeldari now knew death, and worse, they knew that their souls would be devoured upon dying.
Although the Warp effectively functioned as an underworld where Daemons consumed all souls, making the fate of humans and other races largely similar, the Aeldari had never faced such predation before and could not accept this reality.
Ynnead's sword light was not a mere energy blast but a manifestation of "End," one of the universe's ultimate laws. A shocking scene unfolded as the blade connected with the encroaching sensory tendrils.
Those tentacles, capable of corrupting divinity and twisting reality, withered instantly like wax dropped into strong acid. They rotted, decayed, and turned to ash in a heartbeat.
Across the vast and magnificent body of Slaanesh, the areas swept by the blade were left with clear, grey marks resembling burn scars. These wounds bled no blood nor ichor. There was only absolute silence and void, as if the very concept of existence in those spots had been forcibly erased.
"Argh!"
For the first time, genuine pain and horror surfaced in sync across Slaanesh's billion faces. It was no masquerade.
It was not a physical agony, but the terror of having the foundation of His existence touched and partially "killed."
His eternally burning realm of pleasure actually froze for a split second beneath the scar of the death sword. The ambient decadent sounds and psychedelic lights paused as if held by a static image before they began to flow again with a twisted wailing.
"This... the Authority of Death?!" Slaanesh's voice lost its lazy composure and turned sharp with disbelief.
The Dark Prince could feel that the areas covered by the grey sword marks could not be easily repaired.
The very essence of "pleasure" in those spots was being slowly eroded and killed. Although trivial to His total existence, the nature of this power posed an unprecedented threat. This was a weapon that could truly harm His very source.
Ynnead's current power might have seemed insignificant in Slaanesh's eyes, but the laws contained within the Authority of Death sent a chill through the God of Excess similar to meeting a natural predator.
He was indeed the god prophesied to destroy him. Even though Ynnead had emerged prematurely due to the interference of that outsider from another universe, the power of death he wielded was no joke.
It was a force that could truly kill everything, even a Chaos God, if it grew strong enough.
"Do you see, False God?" Ynnead's voice remained cold, though flames of determination danced in his eyes.
He had sensed Slaanesh's fleeting apprehension, which solidified his conviction. He was the savior of the Aeldari, the vengeful fire of their pantheon.
"The prophecy has not failed, only changed form. I exist for this purpose. I am here to end you! My every strike digs your grave! You shall die by my hand."
Slaanesh's massive form recoiled slightly. The expressions of twisted pleasure on his billion faces were replaced by gravity.
He realized this newborn death god was like a child wielding a poisoned dagger, if one had to use a metaphor. The child's strength was negligible, but the poison on the dagger threatened his very life.
He could not allow this being to grow, especially one possessing a divine body capable of walking freely in the material realm. The consequences would be unimaginable.
This boy truly possesses the ability to slay me, Slaanesh thought. Damn it. I thought the prophecy of my death was broken when he was born prematurely, but he can still threaten me.
"Heh... hehehe..." Slaanesh suddenly erupted into laughter mixed with pain and morbid excitement. The sound caused the lights and shadows of the Eye of Terror to flicker and warp madly.
"Interesting! How terribly interesting! Little Ynnead, you have given me a tremendous surprise! Your very existence is the ultimate thrill! Did you know? It is said that every living being feels an indescribable excitement and pleasure at the moment of death. That is a delicacy for me as well." The perversion of Slaanesh far exceeded the imagination of the Aeldari God of Death.
"I would be more than happy to help you with that particular matter," Ynnead retorted. "Stand still and let me thrust this sword into your skull, then you can experience it firsthand."
"Hahaha, I do not need your help for that. I have already experienced the pleasure of death generated by the mortal races; I am no stranger to it. Do you think my followers die in vain?" Slaanesh sneered.
Ynnead was an Aeldari god, but in a way, was Slaanesh not one as well?
Before Ynnead's birth, Slaanesh was essentially the youngest deity of their pantheon. Slaanesh possessed the unique ability to devour other gods to empower himself. That was how he had instantly rivaled the other three Chaos Gods upon his birth, by devouring the Aeldari pantheon.
The only ones who had escaped him were Khaine the Bloody-Handed, Isha the Mother, and Cegorach the Laughing God. If He could devour the Death God before Him, His power would increase drastically.
He abandoned the attempt to use pure sensory power to corrupt or seduce, for its effect was greatly diminished in the face of the laws of death.
Slaanesh's body abruptly split and reformed, transforming into countless sensory aberrations composed of pure energy and twisted souls. Some appeared as giant worms covered in suckers, others as gorgons, and some as hermaphroditic monstrosities with six arms and claws, screaming in ear-piercing terror.
The death was potent, but Slaanesh could create infinite avatars.
"Let us see if your immature death can withstand my carefully brewed Pleasure Storm!" Slaanesh's voice turned icy and murderous.
He shifted tactics, intending to use his absolute power and endless Warp creations to consume and drown this dangerous seedling.
He had to strangle the threat in its cradle before the Death God fully mastered his authority.
The aberrations lunged at Ynnead like a tide, each carrying enough chaotic divinity to instantly corrupt the life of a planet.
Ynnead gripped his divine sword, the grey death energy turning a pale ash color.
"Come then, Slaanesh! Let your destruction be the witness of the arrival of Death!"
The Death God roared and transformed into a grey stream of light, charging headlong into the overwhelming swarm of aberrations.
Every flash of the grey sword light brought the silent annihilation of the monsters, tearing death scars into Slaanesh's magnificent yet filthy storm of pleasure.
Slaanesh held the absolute advantage, His offense like a crashing wave, but every time the power of death touched Him, the fear in His core deepened.
Ynnead looked like a lone boat in a raging sea, seemingly ready to capsize at any moment, yet the Silent End in his hand remained a poison stinger aimed straight at the Evil God's heart, ensuring Slaanesh dared not show even a moment of carelessness.
This was, after all, a power capable of slaying a god.
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ps?