The star map on the screen shifted again; the Necrons' ancient hieroglyphs and cold green data streams slowly faded away.
What replaced them was a vista so beautiful it stole one's breath.
Sleek, elegant starships glided like white swans in a starry sea, their hulls made of bone-white, seemingly living material that shimmered softly, every line an artwork in motion.
Countless Worlds, reshaped into paradisiacal gardens, swept past—crystal towers piercing the clouds, each city itself a monumental work of art.
[After the Necrons fell into slumber, one of the many progeny races the Old Ones had wrought filled the galactic power vacuum through peerless psychic talent and advanced science.]
[They were the Aeldari.]
The narrator's voice softened, suffused with nostalgia for a lost golden age.
[They were the Old Ones' perfect creation—tall, beautiful, and graceful.]
[Every Eldar is born a Psyker; they interface with their technology through mind alone, shaping a resilient substance called Wraithbone to build cities and ships.]
[For millions of years the Eldar ruled the galaxy.]
[Their realm spanned the stars; their fleets were invincible.]
[They possessed… near-limitless time and resources to satisfy any imagination.]
[And so a plague more terrible than any external foe began to fester within their civilization.]
[That plague was—boredom.]
The images turned bizarre and decadent, drenched in opulence and depravity.
The Eldar now pursued the most extreme sensations.
Psychic talents once used for art and knowledge were bent to weave the most resplendent illusions, taste the most exotic delicacies, and indulge the wildest desires.
[Their psychic gifts amplified every emotion a hundredfold.]
[Joy became a hundred times joy; sorrow a hundred times sorrow; and pleasure… an ever-escalating, never-ending craving.]
[To find new stimulation they turned to forbidden arts, perverse rituals, even brutal gladiatorial games.]
[All the emotions a mortal might feel in a lifetime became, to a jaded Eldar, mere after-dinner entertainment over tea.]
[The entire Eldar empire became a never-ending carnival spanning tens of thousands of light-years.]
[Unknowingly, the vast, extreme psychic energies they squandered pooled, fermented, and compressed deep within the Warp… until a tipping point was reached.]
The screen was swallowed by blinding violet light, followed by a silent, soul-shrieking cosmic scream that made every viewer tremble.
[Boom—]
[The singularity of desire detonated.]
[Within the Warp a new god was born—the aggregate of every Eldar's decadent longing, the incarnation of ultimate pleasure and pain, the eternally hungry Prince of Excess.]
[Its name—Slaanesh.]
[Slaanesh's psychic birth-cry swept the heart of the Eldar realm in an instant.]
[Trillions of Eldar had their souls torn from their bodies amid their own revelry, becoming the newborn god's first feast.]
[Where once stood a glorious empire, realspace was ripped open into a gaping, Chaos-bleeding wound—the Eye of Terror.]
[This was the Fall: a civilisation-wide act of cosmic suicide wrought by self-indulgence.]
[Not all Eldar succumbed to excess. Some seers foresaw the doom and built vast ark-ships to flee the core Worlds.]
[They are the Craftworld Eldar.]
[To avoid repeating their ancestors' fate, they shackle their emotions with extreme discipline and focus.]
[Yet they can never escape the curse.]
[To Slaanesh, every Eldar soul is the most delectable dessert in existence.]
[The moment an Eldar dies, Slaanesh devours their soul.]
[To defy this fate, each Craftworlder carries a Spirit-Stone.]
[Upon Death the stone captures the soul, shielding it from Slaanesh.]
[The stone is then placed within the Craftworld's Infinity Circuit, where the departed rest with their ancestors.]
[It is no paradise—merely a gilded prison for the soul.]
[Other survivors fled to the opposite extreme.]
[They were the hedonists who sheltered inside the Webway when the catastrophe struck.]
[They are the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari.]
The screen dimmed to shadows and blood. Viewers beheld Commorragh, a vast city of spires and arenas wedged between realspace and the Warp.
[The Drukhari / Dark Aeldari escaped the birth-throes, yet their souls are still slowly leeched by Slaanesh.]
[To stave off annihilation, they discovered a method: torment and slaughter other sentient beings, replenishing their own draining souls with stolen agony.]
[Thus they became the most infamous pirates and sadists in the galaxy.]
[They raid constantly, dragging multitudes of slaves back to Commorragh—not for labour, but to 'savour' their screams in bloody arenas and cruel experiments.]
[To the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari, the pain of others is the very sustenance of life.]
[Such is the state of the Aeldari: an ancient, proud race slowly dying.]
[They wander the stars, battling for survival while forever fleeing the dark prince whose hunger they themselves created.]
—
Marvel Universe
"So…" Tony wore an expression that mixed horror with sheer absurdity.
"Let me get this straight: the smartest pointy-eared geniuses in the cosmos literally pleasured themselves to Death because life was too easy?"
"And as a bonus they birthed a demon god that eats their entire family's souls?"
His words were as cutting as ever, yet a hint of lingering fear ran through his voice.
"This is… the most absurd, darkest-humored way for a civilization to die that I can possibly imagine."
Tony looked out at the New York skyline.
"We use technology to chase a more comfortable life, but if comfort ends in something like this… aren't we, right now, just farming experience points for some future Slaanesh?"
"Comfort isn't the culprit, Tony."
Captain America's voice was dead serious.
"It's the total collapse of discipline."
"When a civilization loses all awe of desire and all self-restraint, its very strength only hastens its doom."
His gaze shifted to the segment on the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari, his face etched with unfeigned revulsion.
"And those… Dark Aeldari."
"To survive, they chose to make others suffer. That isn't survival anymore—it's pure evil. They're no different from the god they tried to flee."
As Sorcerer Supreme Doctor Strange, he understood the implications better than anyone.
"That wasn't 'birth'—it was the most horrific black-magic sacrifice ever seen, one that rippled across an entire dimension."
"The sacrificers and the sacrificed were one and the same."
"They lit a candle with trillions of souls; naturally the glow lured the deepest darkness in the cosmos."
"And the Spirit-Stones… my God, they're no protection at all. They're cages—eternal imprisonment just to avoid being eaten. Next to that, Death is mercy itself."
DC Universe
Wonder Woman Diana's eyes brimmed with sorrow and disbelief. "Love, beauty, art, passion… those should be the Universe's finest gifts. How could they birth such a monster?"
"Because they lost balance, Diana."
Batman's voice cut in.
"Any virtue, once pushed to unbridled extremes, becomes its opposite. Courage turns to recklessness, prudence to cowardice, and pleasure… into self-annihilation."
"Their way of existence is the most terrifying, absolute egoism in the Universe."
"To prolong their own lives, the pain of others becomes a quantifiable resource. They're… spiritual Vampires."
"I can't accept that."
Superman clenched his fists, fury simmering in every word.
"Must one civilization's survival always rest on the slaughter of another?"
"What's the logic? To keep from being eaten by sharks, you turn yourself into a more savage piranha first?"
In the corner, Constantine glanced at the screen showing the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari.
He gave a snort. "Classic case of drinking poison to quench thirst. To keep a devil from eating you, you turn yourself into a smaller devil first. Back home we call people like that 'bastards,' but I have to admit, bastards do tend to live a bit longer."
[Super Gene Universe]
"Absurd! Fallen! Barbaric!"
For the first time, Holy Keisha's face blazed with undisguised wrath—sacred fury at seeing her Order trampled in the filthiest way imaginable.
"This is exactly what I meant: unguided free will inevitably ends in self-destruction!"
She pointed at the screen, proclaiming to every high-ranking Angel.
"Look at them! When a civilization has no guidance, no Order—when desire becomes its only pursuit—it merely turns itself into fodder for monsters, or even births new ones!"
"The Drukhari / Dark Aeldari—beings who live off torture, extending their lives through others' agony—are the most irredeemable evil in the known Universe!"
"Their very existence is a blight upon the word 'life'! Such a civilization must be purged—utterly!"
[Demon Wings]
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Morgana nearly jumped, kicking the drinks table over, her Demon Wings flaring in rage as she cursed at the screen.
"What are those pointy-ears doing? That's not falling—that's shooting up drugs!"
"They're slaves to desire! They played themselves to Death and birthed a god even grosser than Keisha—one obsessed with everyone's crotch!"
"That's a goddamn insult to the word 'depravity'!"
Morgana paced in fury; her scorn for Slaanesh now eclipsed even her hatred for Keisha.
"This Queen believes true freedom begins with mastering your own desires."
"These idiots, from start to finish, were just pitiful fools led around by their cravings!"
[Three-Body World]
"A trap after a technological… explosion?"
Luo Ji watched the Psychic Storm sweeping the galaxy, his eyes filled with an unease about the future graver than any he had felt before.
"When a civilization has solved every survival problem, removed every external threat—when its tech can satisfy every need—what drive is left to push it forward?"
"They chose to look inward, exploring the limits of emotion and desire. Then… they died."
Luo Ji's voice was soft, yet it sent a chill through everyone present.
"Perhaps… this too is a form of the Great Filter. A civilization perishing not from war or disaster, but from… excessive prosperity."
Thomas Wade, silent until now, let out a contemptuous snort.
"A pack of spineless weaklings." He appraised coldly. "They held the power to reshape the cosmos and wasted it on petty physical pleasures. They didn't die of prosperity; they died of cowardice."
"Had they used that energy to build stronger weapons, to probe the Universe's edge, to transform themselves into higher, emotionless life-forms… they could have become true gods."
Wade stared at the Aeldari writhing in agony on the screen, not a trace of pity in his eyes.
"They chose to wallow in flesh, so flesh destroyed them. Flesh, after all, is unreliable."