What If: Bel'a'kor's Gambit
Bel'a'kor had been forced to rush, that was undeniable. Even if Khorne hadn't noticed the ritual's true purpose immediately, perhaps due to his disdain for Sorcery making him inherently more mistrusting of a casting of this scale, the simple fact of the matter was that his strike on Zahhak had left the forces of the Sane a major clue as to his purpose, and the failure of it left him on a timer before the Goddess of Free Will could shatter the bindings he had planned with a handful of words. Thus, he wasn't quite doomed from the start, but he certainly wasn't in anything close to the position he'd wanted to be in for this Grand Ritual.
Of course, one didn't live as long as Bel'a'kor had, certianly not in ostensible service to the Chaos Gods, without forming contingencies for when things inevitably went wrong. Before the ritual's failure, he wasn't
quite desperate enough to raise himself as a Chaos God just yet, especially when that would defeat the purpose of trying to bind the Chaos Gods to himself, but there were still opportunities he could take advantage of. A Grand Ritual of this scope would muffle other workings like heavy machinery muffling speech, to say nothing of the Singularity's interference in divination, and that provided unique circumstances. What he had planned would be impossible to get away with in any other scenario, but the Anatolian's madness, partially brought about by his own hand, granting him the tools he needed to face the Dragon had
such poetic irony to it.
He'd have to rush this too. Doombreed wasn't as well known as Skarbrand or Kairos, but having him go missing wouldn't go unnoticed for long. Still, if he pulled it off, it wouldn't matter what Zahhak did, Chaos United would be here to stay, and having a direct hand in it's birth would make it a simple matter to enslave a new Chaos God. Hopefully it wouldn't drive even
him irreparably insane, but you know what they say, 'Needs must when the Devil drives.' and the Void Dragon was certainly driving the galaxy to the brink. One batch of bad luck could doom everything, and Abaddon certainly wasn't willing to go back to getting his forces ground into paste by the C'Tan.
***
To say that Doombreed's binding was difficult would be a lie. Bel'a'kor made a point of keeping an eye on Exalted-tier assets regardless of their allegiance, and unique ones like Doombreed all the moreso. In fact, Bel'a'kor was a bit perturbed at how simple it was. He was practically being invited in.
"I assume you plan to make use of me in your bindings?" Doombreed asked, casually, as if he hadn't been absolutely covered in black chains. Carefully avoiding stating outright what Bel'a'kor had been doing.
"...Not exactly." Bel'a'kor admitted slowly, wondering if this had been a mistake. It seemed that Doombreed had a sense for even forceful attempts at uniting the Chaos Gods. Enough to suss out the general picture of Bel'a'kor's efforts despite the Shadowlord's painstaking work to make it impossible for even the likes of Ridcully to discern.
Doombreed smiled. It was a very human smile, but something about that made it seem all the worse. "Ah, good. It's finally time then. I had thought perhaps it wouldn't happen, with how few are left, but with your backing, it should be simple enough. Which one did you plan to gather first?"
"Magnus. Angron is too likely to set Khorne off, and Perturabo is too well-defended. Magnus fancies himself a sorcerer." They shared a chuckle. "So he shouldn't be difficult."
"Ah good. Shall we then?" he asked, as if he were not a prisoner.
Bel'a'kor gestured, and they were on their way to the One-Eyed King.
***
Magnus had been doing some leg-breaking at Abaddon's behest. While he was by no means the best sorcerer in the galaxy, he was certainly in the top hundred, probably even the top 20, when he didn't let his arrogance get the best of him. Which was, admittedly, not very often. The point being, there were only a handful of sorcerers in the Black Imperium that could even contest him, and one of those was his son, Khayon the Black, one of Abaddon's most loyal followers.
As such, he could be forgiven for not immediately fleeing when the shadows of the world he was visiting, the crownworld of one of the more rebellious Sector governors that, while technically neutral, was being courted by both Abaddon's forces and Alpharius' rabble, deepened in a way any Chaos-aligned sorcerer would recognize as being the handiwork of a very specific individual. He'd examined some of the First Follower's workings before, and they were certainly impressive, but this wasn't any kind of prepared ground, he'd made a point of reading up on his deployments and doing some basic prognostication in case of something like this, and loath as he was to admit it, the Oathstone protected him in some ways from things like True Names, because his soul was bound to Abaddon now.
"Hello there, Crimson King." Bel'a'kor said from directly behind him.
Magnus controlled the impulse to whirl around and blast the Shadowlord with all he had, and simply turned to regard the original Daemon Prince. "Let me guess, you're going to offer me a contract of some kind to get out of being Oathbound, in exchange for a few favors? Not interested." Bel'a'kor actually laughed in response to Magnus' deadpan preemptive refusal of signing his soul away
again.
"Ah, no. The Oathstone is a bit beyond a casual working from me. It would take more than you have to offer for me to make an attempt at setting you truly free. However, there is something you can do for me." the originator of Chaos Sorcery explained.
If Magnus was on guard before, now he was bracing for a lethal attack. "Which is?"
"Die at Doombreed's hands." Bel'a'kor said, a moment before an axe blade nearly took Magnus' remaining eye.
Despite Magnus' expectations, Bel'a'kor made no move to assist Doombreed directly. Instead, he was simply locking down the battlefield so neither side could flee into the Warp. There was some kind of working being done with Doombreed, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Certainly nothing that would strengthen him. With those two data points in mind, Magnus believed it was some kind of ritual that required that Doombreed defeat him with his own strength. Ergo, the simplest way around it would be to defeat Doombreed. The irony was not lost on him as an ankh formed in either hand and he stopped another strike from the Bloodthirster, cloaked in far more black smoke than usual, to the point Magnus could barely make out his actual form. The occasional flash of red muscle was still visible, but it was honestly difficult to tell if what he was fighting was even humanoid.
Magnus was careful not to remain in close combat with the Khornate Daemon Prince more than necessary, but he'd been around long enough to know that being unprepared for combat with a Khornate at their preferred range was a good way to get yourself killed. As such, he always made sure remain in a position that could smoothly translate to hand-to-hand while he flung bolts of azure power at Doombreed. He wasn't simply flinging them towards the Khornate, of course, the Collars of Khorne ensured that didn't work on his ilk, and while Magnus was no petty sorcerer, the Rod of Khorne in Doombreed's other hand made up the difference. No, he was trying to remove the smoke that hung around the Daemon, because some instinct told him it was key to whatever Bel'a'kor was attempting.
So far, the results were inconclusive. For one thing, the pall of smoke that both clung to and was Doombreed hadn't faded in the slightest. If anything, it was
thicker than at the start of the fight. Normally, he'd have left by now, since it simply wasn't worth the effort to save this world from whatever plans Bel'a'kor had in store, but that wasn't an option.
Growing frustrated as Doombreed closed in and delivered punishing blows that Magnus felt through his guard, Magnus tried a different approach. Collars often struggled with second-order effects, so perhaps if he used his psychic might to generate technically mundane winds... As the force of a hurricane bore down on them, Magnus disengaged, then halted in shock. It was only revealed for a moment, but there wasn't a Bloodthirster under the smoke. No, it was a shadowy replica of Magnus himself. Cyclopean, red-skinned, massive twin horns and wings. If it weren't for the implements of Khorne, he'd think he was staring at a soul clone like those used by many Tzeentchians.
"What is this..." he growled.
"Your father's folly runs deeper than you could ever imagine. In you lay the seeds of humanity's downfall long before your scattering." Doombreed spoke for the first time since his arrival, batting aside some debris lifted up by the winds.
"What?" That sounded downright
Tzeentchian. What was going on?
"In the aftermath of Bel'akor's corruption of the Men of Iron, the Anathema broke. He became willing to commit to acts and paths he would never have countenanced before. Not the least of which was splintering his soul to create you, the Primarchs. You knew that drove him mad, but, in granting you Archetypes, he erred far more gravely than you knew." Doombreed explained casually, as if this were plainly obvious to anyone who cared to look.
"Yes, it turned him into an unreasonable caricature of himself. What's your point?"
"Do you know why Khorne raised me as a Daemon Prince?" Doombreed suddenly turned the conversation in a new direction. Magnus, used to the foibles of Tzeentchians, scholars, and Tzeentchian scholars, indulged him.
"For acts of slaughter, I assume."
"Yes... and no. I am actually an amalgamation of multiple human warlords across history. In many ways, I am
all human warlords. The souls that compose me often accomplished much in managing their territories, but that's not what they're remembered for. No, they're remembered for the warring, the slaughter, the conquest, the... crusading." Doombreed smiled as Magnus realized what he was getting at.
"I am more than a petty human warlord! I am a scholar, a sorcerer! A Primarch!"
"The galaxy remembers the Primarchs as warlords. They might have been more than that, but so were my components. Being a Primarch is a point against you." Doombreed tutted at him.
Enraged at the mere suggestion of becoming nothing more than a part of Doombreed, Magnus flung a massive blot of psychic power at the Khornate, then enhanced himself as much as he dared and then some, before charging in. He wanted to reduce Magnus to a piece of himself? He'd bleed for the insult!
Doombreed's protections were just barely overcome by the burning spear of psychic energy, but he was still a Daemon Prince with millennia of combat experience, so it pierced his should enough to only moderately hamper his movements, rather than taking an arm off as Magnus had intended. Still, that was enough to break his guard, so Magnus was able to press his advantage for the first few blows, making several minor wounds, and worsening the shoulder wound considerably. Enough that Doombreed dropped the Rod.
Magnus surged forward triumphantly, attempting to gut Doombreed, only for a familiar ankh to intercept his own, followed by an equally familiar azure blast, sending him stumbling back as much from sheer shock as anything else. The pall of black smoke was starting to cling to Magnus as well now, as if trying to swallow him.
"You... that was Warpcraft!" Magnus whispered in harsh disbelief.
"Yes. You have my thanks. It will be so very useful against your brothers."
Magnus struggled, desperate attempts at summoning Daemons to at least distract Doombreed stifled by Bel'a'kor with contemptuous ease, but he lacked the time to perform any kind of large-scale ritual, and he could no longer count on supremacy in that field. Now bolstering himself as Magnus had, Doombreed's sheer physical advantage was reaping a heavy toll.
Magnus attempted to summon an Exalted of Change via a contract, but Bel'a'kor almost lazily snuffed that out before it could even begin. His vision was growing blurry, and weakness in his limbs sapped at him, every wound he took seeming to drain him far more than it ought to. His last thoughts were bitterly musing that at least with his father, Tzeentch, and Abaddon, he retained his sense of self.
As Doombreed absorbed the King in Crimson, he seemed to swell in height, a reflection of his growth in power. In truth, Magnus had been the Primarch best suited to contesting Doombreed, as one of those least associated with the common acts of a warlord. Not to mention having the most access to Daemonic contracts and summonings to interfere in the duel, as most Daemons wouldn't have to worry about the narrative link. The Loyalists could better resist, as the Daemon Primarchs had lost much of their resistance to simply being incorporated as part of Doombreed's larger narrative as the original warlord with their 'ascension' as Daemons, but Doombreed could simply overwhelm them with raw might now that he'd taken in a Daemon Primarch, much like a contest between a Loyalist and Daemon Primarch would usually end with the Loyalist dead.
Of course, Magnus had been selected because unlike Perturabo, he was unlikely to have a technological trinket Bel'a'kor might struggle to suppress. Doombreed would normally never have had a chance to consume a Primarch before they could flee, least of all one like Magnus. Those that remained would know better than to remain fighting a foe they couldn't possibly beat over a comparative backwater like this, and Bel'a'kor was enhancing the narrative link on top of that. Truthfully, he shouldn't have been copying Magnus' abilities before absorbing him, that was only possible with the Shadowlord amping their link. Technically not a buff since it would normally make both sides more vulnerable to each other, but the nature of the conflict meant that it advantaged Doombreed. Now that he had Magnus, his link with the others had grown stronger, so he wouldn't strictly
need Bel'a'kor's help to achieve the same effect, at least with a Daemon Primarch.
"That's one down." Bel'a'kor commented, eyeing the... Bloodthirster? Was that accurate any more? He shrugged internally. His intuition told him that if he did nothing, his ritual would fail in it's goals. He needed insurance, and even if the larger goal failed, having Doombreed as effectively an allied Exalted with the powers and traits of multiple Primarchs would do much to aid his efforts. Even if he had the feeling he might regret this later, he
knew he'd regret letting the Sane or the Dragon win.
"On to the next?" Doombreed asked, smiling easily, his wounds healing with unnatural speed even by Daemonic standards.
Bel'a'kor simply gestured again, and they were gone, long before Abaddon could find more than a hint of what happened.
AN: Drawing a bit from RedFlag here. I asked myself 'What's more ambitious than trying to enslave the Chaos Gods? Oh, I know, trying to make a Chaos God of Unity to bypass his issues with Zahhak.' but I'm
sure Bel's not biting off more than he can chew here.
