21 21. Dragon and Devil

'I hate this sensation from the depth of my soul…' Hoopa thought with rising irritation. The locks tightly keeping his emotions under control weakened, making him growl in aggression as he exited his portal and faced the ceaseless wind of nothingness and the composite nullification fields

Both washed over him violently, ripping away all connection he may have to the Sea of Souls, cutting him off the boundless psychic power within that kept the precise internal balance in his being in check.

The process he had begun earlier in predicting this exact scenario gained immensely in traction, and he grew in size and bulked up to a proportional amount. And he did so without end, any sign of stopping absent in his actions.

All from the pure darkness that was antithetical to all of this Universe he had been forced to be part of, all pouring without an end from the depthless black hole that was his soul without the precise harmony brought by his psychic power. Though it was all but natural, it was his Mother's design, but that didn't mean he found it pleasant.

Quite the opposite… It felt… It was hard to describe, but if Hoopa were to put the experience into polite words, it would be akin to ripping the entirety of his skin to a subcutaneous level and then pouring an ample amount of glass shards, sand, ice, and salt, then rubbing this 'joyful' mixture with a metal brush while it's still raw.

And it was worse the first time he had suffered such fate on his day of birth, far worse. But today was different. He was no newborn anymore and had vastly grown into his powers, instincts, body, and talents

The Null Obelisks were not limitless, and through this fact, he kept a reserve of psychic energy in his being for his plan. Heretical and traitorous as it was, he craved freedom and vengeance. It was not noble, but that mattered little at this point.

He understood the consequences. He would be a primary, if not the primary actor in an endless game that would result in trillions of deaths and cause the eternal suffering of many more, but alas, he was selfish and made to be a monster by circumstance and his choice.

And he acknowledged what it would bring to the Milky Way but refused to be enslaved any longer. To be so deeply aware that the creature he hated the most had him on a leash, and he had no choice but to obey her every word. Words failed to express his fury, but action spoke louder, and until now, he had only been quiet.

'Why must it be this way? Such an asinine query without any definitive answer, but it depends.' Hoopa thought. Yet, excitement was growing, his heart hammering in his ribcage as his gleaming ruby eyes, brought by his unbalanced state, gazed at where he appeared.

It was an extensively spacious spherical hypostyle chamber with thousands of Null Obelisks supporting a ceiling of complex cable and black crystal many kilometers above. On every surface and angle were glowing carvings depicting wars, legends, sacrificial rituals, and many more aspects of Necron history before and after biotransference. And maybe in another time and other circumstances, Hoopa would have deeply studied.

And in the center of it, all was a platform of a higher physical dimension. There were many seats, grand and diminutive, grounded and high, austere and ornate. Within them, four stood out. One for each of the primary Necron Gods and Goddesses of Pantheon. One for Death, one for Conflict, one for Famine, and one for Pestilence.

However, none of those were present. Instead, on the smaller seats were Necron of the highest hierarchy, the Triarch, and the most influential Phaeron and Phaerakt. And higher were a minuscule number of C'tan; the most remarkable was a vaguely masculine creature with pale yellow skin and a crown of backward recurved horns growing from his head.

He was Mepheret'ran, the Deceiver, the one who tricked the Necrontyr into becoming Necron. Yet none mattered significantly for Hoopa as all noticed his presence with varying degrees of shock and horror.

What took most of Hoopa's focus was on the central throne, a triangular yet shapeless structure that let the ones on it face all directions equally, thereby breaking the rules of three-dimensional space. The one atop this throne and commented through many glowing cables and grooved tubes was the Void Dragon, the Necron God of Technology, the most powerful and wise among his accursed brethren.

Their eyes met time and space themselves, becoming increasingly heavy. Intense glowing crimson shone through a monstrous mask of shadow and slitted baleful green on a metallic draconic muzzle.

The former's face split open into a malicious smile, shadow parting to reveal hundreds of neatly arranged pure white fangs. Red eyes shifting too slowly, healing wounds stained in the darkness between scales and flesh made of Necrodermis caused the smile only to grow.

"Pardon my impromptu visit, Mag'ladroth. The invitation to come in by my desire was far too alluring." Hoopa declared, the mockery in his voice unhidden to all, even if it lacked any melody and harmony it usually had as his current state made it impossible.

"My servants, your presence has become unbeckoned. You may return to your position." Mag'ladroth ordered regally, and the ones spoken to did not ponder longingly on his words before vanishing

A whine of agony echoed as a masterfully crafted spear of darkness perforated the Star God of deceit and lies in the head just at the moment of his dissipation in a flash of pale yellow.

"Not fast enough, huh… How very sad." Hoopa chuckled darkly, pleased with the suffering and crippling state he brought on the twisted soul-addicted error of creation.

He was not sadistic by nature, or that's what he liked to think of himself, but bringing the most primordial of emotion into those hateful creatures was… It was almost addicting, fueling certain parts of his brain to continue doing so.

They were to share the blame for his current state as well, and he will not discriminate here. It was evidence that this was a tool to make him act in the Old Ones' victory, not changing the satisfaction that it brought.

"I did not foresee callous insanity as your prominent trait, Anomaly. To come within the heart of your enemy, to forgo security and rationality. It seems my notions of your statue have been too high compared to your kind." the draconic being said, booming with disappointment and a heavy amount of conceit.

As he did, he stood up to his full height, cables, and tubes phasing out of existence. Simultaneously, the effect of the platform he was on disappeared to reveal his majestic body, carved and modeled from his very claws to represent the most perfect of forms.

"Or is it blind arrogance of a young chimeric alien unable to gauge what is and what isn-" however, he could not continue as he was violently interrupted by a tridactyl fist coated in dark shadowy spikes slamming against his lower jaws.

The air turned to violet plasma when the fist collided with the Void Dragon's head. The very next instant, his massive frame was flung at speed, breaking the sound barrier of the local atmosphere hundreds of times over as he slammed against the base of a Null Obelisk.

The massive structure of Blackstone shattered on impact, hundreds of cracks forming on the ceiling, creating a chain reaction onto untold more pillars. A roar followed one of unbridled outrage and pain as the world shook.

The Void Dragon, with unbridled fury in his eyes and his lower jaws dangling uselessly, flew out of the hole that made of his body image as he repaired all the damage done with but a wave of one of his claws.

"YOU-" he boomed, trying to make his rage known through his most powerful words, an error as what came was another violent interruption from two sides.

Two dark fists from one respective golden ring came into being, one from the left and the other from the right, as they moved at velocities beyond that of light and slammed into his draconic head.

A rumbling boom echoed as the color left the world. Darkness engulfed all that was in the room with the shockwaves that came. Cataclysmic destruction befell the spacious room as the artificial planet they were in began to break apart. The room was the core, the foundation, and the most important area for its structural integrity.

The impact traveled through the pillars, flour, and ceiling, turning on its path everything into fine atomic dust, and nothing seemed to stop it.

Yet it suddenly stilled, time rewinding, and the damages became forgotten in a non-existent future. Then the headless body of the C'tan hovered out of the debris, body crackling with the might of the material universe as he ripped off a neck and half of a chest lashed with maleficent darkness.

From this, the body grew back into its original form, a shoulder blade, arm, chest, neck, and head reforming instantly.

And as the slitted pupils regained their green luster, Mag'ladroth observed the Aeldari God of Darkness. In his mind were emotions he was experiencing for the first time in his very long existence.

Fear and wrath. From it, a seed of doubt started to shape itself, leading to the formers increasing in a vicious cycle.

Fear and wrath to a level he did not know himself capable of, this brought shame for those were emotions only befitting of lowly mortals, and yet. And yet, he was experiencing both vicariously to a point he was aware was beyond that of those inferior creatures' measly mental faculty.

This was a threat to his existence.

"Enou-" his newly regenerated maws opened to only stop as three closed fists came his way at an even higher speed than before, the darkness encompassing them more potent and denser than any and all past point in time.

Their mass, speed, and presence passively generated blasts that destroyed the most powerful material and defense as the artificial world around them shattered to a conceptual level.

But that was all but one layer. Four golden rings appeared, and from them flowed torrential oceans of darkness swarming with spiked chains, serrated blades, spears, and harpoons draped in pentagrams and mystical symbols.

"I have said… ENOUGH ANOMALY!" he thunderously mandated, and the physical world obeyed his will. And it was so With a will that was uncaring of the adverse effects this would have, he poured power, and the world gladly took it in.

Hundreds of five kilometers in diameter black spheres manifested into existence, their outer surface coated in a homogenous mix of a thin orange layer and the toxic green of his essence.

This was the power of gravity in one of its most mighty forms. The weakest of the Fundamental Forces used to its full potential, resulting in space and time folding, and the rules of reality bent and shifted in those spheres' heavy presence. This was the power of gravitational singularities under the appellation of black holes.

Then the impact came, the hands twisted, elongated, and compressed before being absorbed within and turned into exotic particles and energy, earth-shattering echoed from it. But the darkness did not stop pouring itself within the gravitational singularities and in far greater quantity. And something unexpected happened, forever altering what is and isn't, as the oppressive will of the Archdjinni in his black essence changed the grander rules.

The reaction was violent and out of control from even the C'tan, as he observed with fascination and mild horror as the black holes he conjured collapsed on themselves.

Hoopa only aided in worsening the matter as he generously poured more and more of his power within, which should destroy all surgically focused points of reality. The Archdjinni of the Rings increasing, diminishing, and suppressing creation locally without rhymes or logic.

Then, a breaking point was reached. It sparked a chain reaction of astronomical proportion as each black hole grew and grew until cannibalizing began. One after the other, they gained in size and mass, leading to constant growth and power as the black anomalous energy absorbed remained and shifted inside

Then it halted, time unable to operate as it should, turning a phenomenon in the order of eons to transpire within the tiniest fraction of time. The sound of dry paper tearing apart echoed through even the void of space and nothingness of the howling winds.

At this instant, Mag'ladroth realized his immense mistake born of his anger and an unwise decision to fight back when he should have retreated the moment Hoopa came.

He had been tricked. He, the Void Dragon, the greatest and most powerful of C'tan, a being as old as the Universe with the power to reshape it, manipulated and led to act rashly, played the way a child would to their toy. His pride could not bear such repeated insults and mockery, yet leaning in would give reason to the Anomaly and dancing upon the theater set made for him.

"HOW!?" he proclaimed in stupefaction, dread growing as he realized that he could not teleport, not that he could not teleport outside of this chamber. He was not Llandu'gor, and his control over the Ghostwimd was too poor to be used within the current situation.

He was trapped. Realspace on all levels was inaccessible beyond the chamber he was in. Any technology, plans, devices, and beyond set to counteract open the Aeldari God of Magic out of his grasp. All drowned under an omnipresent interweaving of darkness covered in delicate runes, a web weaved under his eyes but unseen until this very moment.

"Don't fret. I do not wish to kill you, and it would be foolish to do so. And this is not enough to attain such a goal, but I dearly hope it will be unpleasant." Hoopa said, and his presence disappeared from Mag'ladroth's senses, leaving him alone, trapped like an animal in a cage.

Then it happened the reason behind his dread. His body radiated a brilliant green brighter and hotter than any star to form shield upon shield of many layers, shapes, and functions. The reason as to why he was clawing, biting, punching, hitting, all with an almost desperate insistence on the corrosive web, uncaring for the damage it caused on his person.

The black hole winner above the others disappeared briefly, then reappeared before detonating in an eruption of cataclysmic grey light, an ominous light akin to the dawn breaking an eternal night seen from every corner of the vast battlefield spanning distances counted in light years.

An omnidirectional crushing wave of primordial devastation was the bearer of devastation upon the most secure layer of the Infinite Empire. Unparalleled annihilation befell chained stars, planets, cruisers, weapons, and Necrons of any rank indiscriminately at momentum; none could react or resist.

At the heart of the conflagration, the Necron God of Technology came out, a third of his body gone and all that was with it. The remaining parts were marred with cracks and flaking Necrodermis fighting with toxic green darkness lodged deep in the wound.

The draconic C'tan shifted form, turning into a tide of silvery light and flickering into nothingness. His gaze as he moved toward his destination remained fixated on the cause of this catastrophe, Hoopa. The Anomaly had enrobed himself in a swirling bubble of black that did little to hide his body inside.

And what a confusing sight it was, the three intact hands lacking in rings spinning randomly, the poorly done meditative with half-open eyes and an almost woozy expression typically seen in intoxicated mortals.

'What is he planning?' Magl'adroth couldn't help but wonder with terror and a desire to make it all stop and terminate this threat at all costs. Their gaze met, a hazy, drunken one to his sharp, predatory one, and he saw the lips of the Archdjinni move. It was a stray of random words that formed a message and one of all the more astounding.

It read, 'Must protect, Mother protects by liberating all from the forgotten prison to her homeworld and that if the Old Ones for protection and keep all in shield I made for safe embrace l…'

"BEGONE ANOMALY!" The Star God billowed all pent-up rage, frustration, and fear that had bubbled within bursting at once, and hundreds of billions of projectiles, energy fields, and manifestations of reality focused onto Hoopa.

Mag'ladroth yearned, desired, and wanted to neutralize, no, shatter into millions of fragments this six-handed chimeric creature that had caused so much harm and humiliation. And, he had the exact tools to do so, only he lacked them earlier.


My P@treon is up to chap 28 if you are interested.


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