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Archdjinni of the Rings: Hoopa (Warhammer 40k/Pokemon)

A poor sod got violently sucked in an ultra-dimensional wound in reality, leading him to his kidnappers, hyper-intelligent, biologically immortal space-faring magical lizard-frogmen things to be turned into a living tool, weapon, and mode of transport all three in one against his will… Though his new form was oddly akin to the true form of the Pokémon number 720, Hoopa, in both general appearance and power, let's see how a human-turned-monster of mass destruction fares in this universe of grim darkness and how the universe and its players react to him as he now was an integral part of the Great Game, for the better or the worse. Everything goes to their respective owner. It's crossposted on Webnovel, Space Battle, Scribble Hub, and Royal Road.

The_Bip_Boop2003 · Others
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35 Chs

29. Kidnapping the Princess

"Ah, this is where our sensors had detected a birthing ground of those simple-minded barbaric Mon'Keights?" a smooth sing-song voice comparable to the most exotic bird left the thinly smiling mouth of a tall, pale individual draped in elegant form-fitting armor.

"Affirmative, Lady Eölim, your prizes are living deep into the mantle of this planet and unaware of their great fate." the one spoken to answered respectfully, his head shifting slightly to the side in an almost liquidy that revealed behind onyx black hair pointy ears akin to blade.

An Aeldari, much like the first who spoke, and with the near totality of the resident in the Cruiser of Wraithbone and masterful psycho-technological engineering. A void ship far above the average in size, defensive, elusive, and firepower to similarity classed vessels.

Though these gimmicks rarely had any use outside of mock battle and beyond the ability to be swift and discreet, not much else mattered. But they weren't using both to their full potential either; it would be an insult to themselves to use it against anything unworthy of their presence.

Though stealth was close to its maximum output, there was no reason to attract the attention of fellow Aeldari for fear of losing their prizes or leading to an extermination squad to purge the systems of the Orks.

The fact they were in Webways changed little on the matter; it wasn't illegal, but having attention on them would be quite an annoyance and a political maze of contradictory complexity. Ancient families and petty rivalries of time forgotten rarely ever lead to bodily harm, but they did destroy many.

"Uncle Hrythyoc, Father, and Mother will be so proud. Those pitiful creatures shall be of good attunement to the shade and design of our new moon palace." Eölim said, blushing and with rising excitement in her heart. An enthusiasm born out of the praises that will come and the method to obtain, the collection, the fabrication, and the conclusion.

She could barely contain her chaotic emotions inside the room. She was bathing in her intense psychic power, distorting reality as a mere byproduct.

Orkoids, amidst their countless defects born out of their innate inferiority, such as a lack of reproductive system, were extremely resilient and adequately strong, making them excellent and prized possessions for many things. Notably, it was not only for a source of enjoyment and workforce, but today, it was not for this.

Their resilience made them the perfect primary materials for living tools, furniture, and construction in specialized markets. Aeldari technology could do miracles of any lower lifeform, turning each into priceless art forms of all extreme and excess. Still, Orks broke those, pushing the possibilities far beyond the norm.

The only genuine inconvenience was their spore gimmick, but it was nothing a good curing process wouldn't fix. Stories of destruction had followed, failing these vital processes, but those risks were part of the fun, the excitement, the thrill. And what was there to fear? They have executed death itself.

-Lady Eölim, Flesh Mender Hrythyoc, we are ready to begin the Green Harvest. The ambidirectional teleportation matrices for delving into the depth have been set, and we await with great enthusiasm your presence and command.- the smooth psychic voice of an Aeldari of feminine quality but distinctly male reached their minds.

-Then what are we waiting for, Uncle Hrythyoc? Chop chop! Let's begin the festivities!- the Lady of the Aeldari Cruiser urged, skipping happily with an upbeat tone toward the lower deck.

"Ah… So young and full of great enthrallment, and such a talent and deep passion for the greatest craft." Hrythyoc said with mirthful eyes and a soft shake of his head as he followed suit, his graceful movement akin to the wind but of superior velocity.

Within the same timeframe, in a massive cave with a ceiling reaching dozens of kilometers in height, was a banquet of equally immense proportions. Hundreds of thousands of green-skinned muscular creatures were feasting merely and drinking in abandon while skittering between them with the ever-present fear of getting crushed was a far smaller, uglier, scrawny version.

These were Gretchins, a subspecies born of the Krork and dramatically opposite to the Orks in general behavior. Still, both lived in a perfect symbiosis, one the muscles and the other the brains.

One doomed to die without the others in some shape or form; everywhere, there was a mighty Ork, and an equally cunning Gretchin was behind. Well, in most cases, but that was in their generality. And those were not the only Krork descendants; the Squigs, serving as livestock, living ornaments, and pets, were equally important, all subspecies forming a superorganism of green and krumping.

And they were rejoicing at a bloody victory against an opposing clan that had taken the revolution and a brutal leadership change as a sign of weakness.

A mighty error that ended with the Boss of the opposing clan on the plate of the freshly crowned one, the biggest, largest, bulkiest, smartest, greenest, and shiniest of Ork in the room. The blemishless and magnificent ring around his tusk showed his superior status as he gorged himself upon the seasoned brain.

-You see, I was correct in using this strategy, my dear Kurgal. Rushing in head first, crying a battle cry would not have ended well.- a voice whispered jollily into his mind.

-Won't ya eva shut yer mouf?! I'm chompin', and quit callin' me dat deary thingy! We ain't best matey!- Kurgal mentality yelled, and the minute chuckle he got in answer almost tipped him over the edge.

-That is truly heartbreaking, but if you so desire, my dear boy Kurgal.- the dark figure dramatically faked horror at his own words, but that was too late. Nothing more than jest and tomfoolery, but that was the Gretchin that broke the Squig back.

"SHUT YER ZOGGING MOUF!" He screamed in red-hot rage, slamming both fists on the bedrock table, every last Ork and Gretchin freezing as his voice reached the entirety of the caves and echoed, creating a wave of deadly silence.

But before anything else, there was an intense flash of kaleidoscopic light in the most prominent tablet, blinding and blasting all Orkoid and food aside in a blast of sizzling air as a geometrical portal of countless glyphs appeared.

Then someone walked out, and the click and clack of her boots echoed across the cave as if ported by every air molecule.

She would be considered the epitome of beauty among her kind, an immaculate natural feature product of millions of years of perfect pairing for the most intelligent, powerful, and beautiful of a lineage of purity matched by only a few. Her long, rosy blond hair was braided into her armor, and the solid light construct grew, forming a pure white dress that existed yet did not impede any movement.

"Oh! How sensible and good of those undistinguished beasts to have congregated in a herd for our grand arrival!" She said, her feminine voice enchanting and oh so alien to all her confused audiences.

"Indeed, it will ease the burden of our hunt in the sinuous confines of those labyrinths of rocks and stones." Another arrived and said, his onyx black hair billowing in a nonexistent wind as his crimson iris scanned his surroundings with cold exhilaration at such untapped potential breathing before him.

-Hmm, the squid bird fucker. Annoying timing. Anyway, she insulted you and your boyz. Go have fun for how short it may last, my dear Kurgal.- the entrancing voice said with honest certainty, and Kurgal's rage that had been interrupted was set ablaze.

"Boyz! Dem intrudaz, smash 'em, kill 'em, an' punch 'em! Krump 'em good! WAAAAAGGGHH!" He bellowed, and like an alarm, it created a chain reaction, awakening every Ork from their surprised state into one of alertness and thirst for violence.

"WAAAAGHHHHH!" The closest to the first figure screamed, a metal pike in his hand going down to cave her skull.

Alas, it was never to be. With a flick of her wrist, the world veered a shade brighter, and the Ork turned into a fine red mist, just as the hundreds behind in a cone formation.

"Metal, stone, and bone apparatus, really? How uncouth even by their abysmal standards. Drearily more primitive than anticipated but expected of Mon'Keighs to never lack in despondency." Eölim scoffed, both disappointment and joy in her voice as both weaker and stronger opposition brought different enjoyment.

But it changed little to nothing. Those creatures' weapons would have never pierced her psychic shield, less be mentioned her physical and metaphysical armor and overall defense. Her bare skin would suffice.

"Do please try not to damage them too much, Lady Eölim. I know and emphasize with your excitement, but the dead are unfeeling, freed of their mortal coils and its beauty." Hrythyoc intoned sagely, walking behind her like a guardian, his grandfatherly tone dramatically opposing his actions.

From both of his wide open palms, three runic hexagons spun into existence, the symbol of healing, defense, and fortitude in evidence to anyone knowledgeable in the arcane. As their first circle ended, torrential rivers of crystallized dark blood flowed and shifted in the air like thousands of snakes, living whips obeying his every minute movement of experience only millennia upon millennia will grant.

And as the blood's whips snapped in the air, creating shockwaves, they snaked among the advancing horde of greenskins, brushing delicately against their skins and leaving behind millions of microscopic needles. However, the air was also an effective vector to carry them.

That was where the magic began. Each needle bloomed, rooting itself into the thick skin like a hot knife through butter; from then, they replicated themselves using the moisture available, draining the blood of the living Orks screaming in shocked pain.

In mere seconds, the targets saw their entire bodies weaken, limbs atrophied as they reduced dramatically in size and mass. Ultimately, they crystallized into the very same crystal that had touched them.

The entire process was excruciating, even for Ork, but it did not kill. It was not a spell to sow death on the battlefield. Its original purpose was to suture wounds and promote rapid healing for further care. Touched victims remained awake, conscious of the agony and alive, their vitals safe from harm and kept in a stable state by the crimson crystals.

The partially crystallized Orks were then dragged back into the portal by the crimson whips, the current within the lifeblood shifting in reverse. Ultimately, they were to be neatly placed in a massive storage chamber. There, they will lay for a time unknown until they are deemed of use, where they will be rehydrated and brought back to adequate health.

Until then, their minds would be fully aware, always awake and screaming in an endless void with their only sense available was pain. This was only the beginning of their journey to greatness.

As this was happening, Eölim did not stay idle. Her gauntlets and boots had grown into immaculate blades as dark as the void of space had grown. Above them, on the wrists and ankles, were golden rings shining brightly in the dimly lit cave.

She danced on the battlefield like an ice skating ballerina, her image multiplying by the dozen as doppelgangers manifested into reality and obeyed her command.

Much like Hrythyoc's spell, it did not kill. Its current level of intensity was not for such boorish purposes. It ignored all physical barriers cutting through the souls and minds alike; it could permanently kill Daemons and Neverborn.

Only her movements of surgical precision were the reason for the lack of death on her many paths as all left behind were falling, screaming silently on whatever lay below them, the control ever their body lost replaced by an agony beyond the realm of Realspace. Behind Aeldari came in flocks to collect the bodies swiftly in their psychic grasps.

"Oi, ya! Pointy 'eared cheatin' fat grot! Stop killy ma boyz! Come 'ere an' scrap wif me! I'm gonna krump ya ta bits an' show where ya belong!" The largest Ork of the green tide, the Boss, yelled at her, the real her as the little dark voice said, and it was with quaking fury that his booming, grating voice reached her and attracted her attention.

She fully understood his primitive language of grunts, not needing a translator as a crutch. Through thousands of cycles, she had heard them both by voices and minds and even without this having a grasp of inferior lifeforms, language was a must to understand them and what worked best on them.

Though his insult did not faze her, not only was it childish, lacking in poetry and nuances, but it was from such a creature. Reacting to it negatively or taking it personally would insult all that she inspires and is, extending beyond herself to her family and the Aeldari as a whole.

"Oh, what is this queer artifact? I want it, I desire it, it calls to my artistic soul!" She said, almost with a squeal. Her focus on the big Ork was short-lived as it switched to the strange ring on one of his tusks, something that, by all accounts, was not Orkish. It vaguely appeared Aeldari but not modern; it was beyond ancient and in no way fit to be on such an unsightly animal, even more so on such a place.

"OI! Don't ya be ignorin' m-" the Ork Boss didn't manage to finish his sentence that she was right in front of him, his eyes widening immensely out of astonishment. But he didn't have the time to bore his massive mining drill armed with many cannons on her, and neither did she react that an arcane circle with many five-pointed stars at their feet appeared.

"Wha-" both Kurgal and Eölim said in their respective languages. At this very moment, the circle of runes went alight, and a third of the cavern became white, all sound vanishing just as the two that once were at the epicenter of it did.

There was a moment of silence at the realization of what happened in the crowd, the sheer shock, impossibility, and horrific implication quickly washing over the mind of all. If for different reasons.

"Sum git orknapped da Big Shiny Boss!" a Gretchin screeched, sending waves of panic across the already distressed Ork horde that exploded into chaos, the one physically and mentally able running with an evident lack of care for their brethren, formation or logic as they stampede on one another.

"Eölim!" Hrythyoc snapped back to reality and bellowed, his psychically amplified voice echoing far and wide as he shifted his spell, turning the runes into their opposite. He jumped and rode the river of blood as any and all Orkoid on his path were pulverized, thousands upon thousands dying in a mere instant.

Reaching his target, he jumped with his bloodshot eyes, scanning the blurry burnt mark on the ground, symbols of ancient nature marked everywhere, and others entirely unknown. Doing hundreds of checkup spells to know what happened, his features only continued to distort themselves into a visage stricken with grief, rage, and horror.

-What is happening, Flesh Mender Hrythyoc? Lady Eölim's presence has suddenly vanished! And an unknown vessel had been detected briefly entering and exiting the Materium!- a voice from the Cruiser reached his mind, and his emotions became known to all Aeldari.

-Lady Eölim has been taken by an unknown force knowledgeable in the Dark Arcane. This is a matter of utmost importance; we cannot act rashly in the blazing fire of our emotions.- Hrythyoc stated with cold fury, glaring at the cave ceiling as if his gaze pierced the kilometers of stone above him.

The Dark Arcane, a name that brought fear and curiosity, was all but misleading, as there was no inherent malice in them. Not that it was of importance. It was due to their origin. A forgotten God, no, a God that his brothers and sisters forcibly erased from history records. Or so it was until they destroyed and became distant and aloof, and then their lies of times beyond times slowly resurfaced.

The Original Sin, the Great Betrayer, the God of Darkness, the Dark Prince, his presence hidden by ignorance as he was everywhere. He was only known as the monster in bedtime stories for the young blood. His essence imprinted every aspect of the Aeldari Empire, be it in custom, runes, and sciences.

The one true God and this was a most heretical anomalous use of his blessing for not only on who the magic was done but also the mistakes within. But Hrythyoc couldn't act for the moment, the Empire was vast.

-Capture the greenskins to their very last number. They shall be thoroughly interrogated for any worthwhile information. After we shall collapse the star of this system and travel to the family estate.- he ordered and lifted the dozen tons of rock where the runic circle was.

At the same time, in the confines of a strange Cruiser, two people fell onto the other, one burly and green and the other thin and fair-skinned, the second reducing the impact of the former on the pale grey stone ground.

"-atakkkbleurggh!" The smaller one gurgled inelegantly after her forehead slammed on the ground. Her eyes widened as she looked around, taking in everything with confusion until they locked into something, someone.

The greener one was scratching his bald in utter confusion, nerve firing left and right without any sensible answer. The only sure thing was that what was under him was a comfortable mattress.

"Welcome, Ork and Aeldari." A tall figure wearing a mask in a robe said with regality in an animalistic voice of hiss, low humm, and short hypersonic screech, yet they understood.

"This is a spell shaped into existence by the magnanimous talons of our Divine Lord. It lets us speak freely. I'm known as Majun, the Archdeacon of the Khrave, devout servant of his Holiness, the Beast." Majun said with devotion as his two pairs of arms and singular pair of wings spread, revealing a golden medallion in the shape of a five-pointed star in a hoop.

*

My P@treon is up to chap 31 if you are interested.

p@treon.com/user?u=60424165

Hello, the Aeldari enter the picture but the first true contact of civilisation is for latter. Also an idea on how they see Hoopa, quite an important plot point for latter. And the worship he felt isn't from the type of Aeldari seen here.

Bye-bye!

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