Chapter 509: Making Trouble

Because the Warp has no fixed flow of time, no one except the five Chaos Gods themselves could say how long their discussion over game rules actually lasted. But when they finally dispersed, all of them — except the ever-sluggish, ever-complacent Nurgle — wore expressions of great confidence.

Orsaga alone looked utterly indifferent.

To him, the outcome of the "game" meant nothing. His true intention was simply to drive the Emperor into a dead end — to force the Emperor into a position where he had no choice but to accept Orsaga's conditions.

Who would ultimately be the one to corner the Imperium into collapse?

That detail was irrelevant.

Because in the end, the one who profited most would still be Orsaga.

And Orsaga was very aware that the other Chaos Gods constantly spied on him, hungry to uncover whatever schemes he concealed. Thus, whenever he performed any deliberate action, their attention immediately converged upon him.

Under such surveillance, Orsaga's true body spent most of its time doing utterly meaningless things.

For instance, he once wandered for several decades solely to eat a single grape-flavoured apple… one that happened to have legs.

When even Orsaga himself did not know what he was going to do next, the others naturally had no chance of seeing through him.

Let them guess. Let them overthink. It cost him nothing.

Still — after negotiating the rules with the other four Chaos Gods — he did need to make some show of participation.

At the very least, he had to pretend to take the game seriously.

And so, with that mischief-driven thought, the vast Eldrazi host far beyond the Milky Way immediately received new directives…

--

Across a long, brutal war, the Eldrazi — empowered by the talent-tree Orsaga had gifted them — were practically cheating. In their campaign against the Swarm, they had seized decisive advantage. Their endless killing had reduced the Swarm to a fraction of its former size — roughly 10³³ individuals, the number 1 followed by 33 zeros.

The Eldrazi and their derivative broods now numbered around 10³⁶.

How both sides grew to such astronomical quantities?

One would have to ask the ten-plus thousand star systems they had collectively eaten clean.

Life, metal, soil — even planets themselves — all became nourishment.

Once Orsaga's command reached the Eldrazi leadership, the titan Emrakul considered the matter briefly, then ordered their vast armies to drive the collapsing Swarm toward a single direction.

And that direction was the Milky Way.

Previously, the Chaos Gods had added a restriction to the game rules:

The Eldrazi were forbidden from directly attacking the Imperium.

Of course, the World-Eater God — the cosmic devourer known as "Aeon Cronos" — was especially forbidden. Given His planetary-sized body, a single slap would erase the entire Imperium.

Yet the rules said nothing about using a proxy.

Thus the Swarm, now far too weak to threaten the Eldrazi, gained a new purpose. Even at full speed, the Swarm would still require considerable time to reach the galaxy — but they were now on an unstoppable collision course.

---

Far across billions of light years, the colossal Aeon Cronos — who was casually munching on a cluster of star systems — also stirred. He changed His approach. No longer did He indiscriminately exterminate every species encountered. Now He allowed some of the stronger ones to flee.

Under His pressure, countless advanced civilisations — each at least as powerful as the Human Federation of the Golden Age — fled their home galaxies and began a mass migration toward the Milky Way.

Their paths would intersect. Their meeting was inevitable.

When that day arrived, the galaxy would erupt into a true apocalyptic free-for-all.

Orsaga's little act of "entertainment" was, in essence, stuffing a tiny box full of piranhas.

Competition for resources, space, and survival would give every species a thousand reasons to kill each other on sight.

Just imagining that future scene filled Orsaga with a childlike delight.

---

Meanwhile, the Emperor — completely unaware of the catastrophic obstacles Orsaga was quietly preparing — was carefully reviewing the final transmissions of the Eleventh Legion before their defeat.

Though the Rangdan Empire's bio-technology followed a very different path from humanity's mechanical science, their effective capability placed them roughly two thousand years ahead of the current Imperium.

A two-millennia technological gap was fatal.

The Golden Age Federation had often crushed foes through technological superiority alone. The Emperor understood this dynamic better than anyone.

Was he pressured by this crisis?

Not particularly.

The Imperium was not a "new rich empire" like the Rangdan.

It was a heir — the wealthy child of a once-great civilisation.

Even after collapsing for millennia, the Golden Age had left behind countless relics, many immensely powerful yet non-reproducible. The Imperium lacked the ability to rebuild them, so the Emperor refused to waste them unless absolutely necessary.

As he pondered strategies, a message from the Captain-General of the Custodes arrived:

"Lorgar Aurelian is planning the construction of a great holy city dedicated entirely to Your Majesty's worship…"

The Emperor's expression darkened instantly.

Combined with the Word Bearers' chronically slow progress in the Crusade, the Emperor's irritation rose sharply.

He snapped an order:

"Send word to Lorgar Aurelian: he is to cease all such pointless projects immediately. He will accelerate his advance and bring more worlds into compliance."

...

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