Whisper of the Fallen: The Will Beyond Death

This is the end...

After countless battles and suffering, the conclusion finally arrived. His hands no longer responded; only a searing pain pulsed in his wrists from the thorny chains. Her skin burned from the molten brass poured in droplets by the Bloodletters. Pus-filled blisters covered his arms and chest, as the airborne disease attacked his lungs. Every breath felt like a knife piercing her chest.

But the worst was in his mind; I oscillated between pleasurable and torturous sensations. With visions of a glory that never happened, but could have happened. Visions of a crazy and weak being, tormented by the future planned by crazy gods who wanted to live in his own soul. The god he could become mad would because, in the end, he knew too much. Against this future, his only defense was his will.

Visions merged in his confused mind: a sea of ​​worshipers made of silver and gold acclaiming a Black King, a thousand delicacies served before him, 5,000 strongholds from 5 different legions kneeling before him, the perfection of the shape of the sword sought, the lips of the one who He loved it, but bought another one instead.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind of intrusive images and sounds. None of these pleasures were real; only confusion reigned in them. As much as he wanted to achieve this, to preserve the dream, he would reject them.

At that moment, the words echoed again:

"Alexander... Alexandre, it's time to open your eyes to the threads of destiny... In the end, it happened as I predicted..."

A hesitation or involvement. Was fate really predetermined?

Was everything pre-ordained?

No, his deeds were his and always would be!

With a wave of pain, the cuts inflicted by the cruel black whip opened up, causing him to scream in agony.

Darkness took over everything and he glimpsed the scythe approaching.

As the executioner advanced with his red leaf, a flash of memories flooded his mind and he remembered her. Opening his eyes, he found his mother's loving face – hair as black as night, pale and smooth skin, gentle and soft features. Even tired, love reflected in his eyes like burning embers.

His words echoed:

"My son, my little Alexandre... I wish I could spend more time with you, witness your growth, your first steps, your first words, maybe 'mother', hahah... Cough, cough. I don't have the strength anymore. Know that I love you, regardless of what they say, I love you, my son. Your life will not be easy; our blood, your blood, is cursed, and war will always come to us. My beloved son, my prince, my light. You will face But never stop smiling, and in your smile you will prevail. Despite the cursed blood and the scarring on our minds, you are the hope. Because in the end, you were born pure.

"I love you, my son, and I will always love you... I... I just wish I could be by your side. I never wanted that. I didn't want to make that deal. I didn't want to marry him. I didn't want losing my life in pursuit of a dream that was past. But he deceived me. They are not what they say. They came to us in our darkest hour. Blessed us, helped us rebuild after Klasirendon... During the party , during the celebrations, they revealed who would become sane. Their madness took over our children, who laughed with the laughter of the white people of Antenor; their hands turned into claws, and only fire, darkness, and the laughter... the horrible laughter remained. . The more we screamed, the more they laughed. And then you were born, and the laughter turned to screams. Your soul, my son, carries eternity, carries the spark, And they could not stand in your presence. You taught us, us taught you how to fight. Even though you were so small, the spark inside you led us against them, against their laughter. We could feel it in his soul, see those drops of blood, hear the cry of his tears. I saw, heard and felt... Purposeful Battle... Unchanging Wisdom... Innocent Purity and Disorderly Beauty. You gave us power to fight them, to defeat them. For years it was like this... until the betrayal of the light in the heavens... those who claim to be hope and are just another report. You are different, you are the truth, your personality was born and strengthened in you. I wish you weren't born with this because they will persecute you, they want to subjugate, ally, adopt and seduce you. Not just them, but also Him, the false light. All of them... My son, you will suffer, you will bleed, you will cry. But you can defeat them, deny them, exist beyond them, as you have made this possible for us. We give our life, I give my life so that you may live, and in your soul, we will be eternally alive. I love you my son. From your dear 'Le', your dear mother. Goodbye, my son, I love you."

The words echoed in his mind, and he remembered...

I remembered everything...

The gods are the truth, and if we do not worship them, we will suffer the same fate as the ancient masters of the stars.

It's a lie!

Because all gods are an existing plague. I think you know this better than anyone. Do not forget.

It's a lie!

I don't care if there are gods or not. If they exist, I will become the God who kills gods. Otherwise, I will become the first God to protect what is important to me.

True.

His vision returned to normal and he saw back to the black tundra. The Dark Priest stood before him; Beside him, he could see the executioner with the red leaf... it was red because of the blood that flowed from it... the blood of millions.

Looking around, he saw other people, others captured during the siege. Captured for sacrifices to help in the war... What was the reason for the war again?

Oh yes, that was about it...

A crusade.

A new black crusade, the 13th as he remembered.

The last crusade before the new era.

The galaxy divided in two.

The resurrection of the primarchs.

The dark millennium.

The true beginning of the end times.

He was brutally snapped out of his thoughts when he found himself being dragged by the red daemon (a Bloodletter from what he remembered) over to the black priest who had interrupted his speech and was looking at him with pure rage in his eyes (or what appeared to be eyes, more like two fireballs in the face).

"You accept?"

"Accept what?"

The priest did not respond; His expression turned into something monstrous, and he made a strange symbol, the blood dripping from his skin turned into strange, glowing symbols, and then there was pain, an indescribable pain that coursed through his soul.

And it was like that for what seemed like millennia, but were seconds.

"Do you accept the true gods, do you renounce the corpse that calls itself god?"

"He was never a god, to me, it's nothing but lies."

The priest's expression then changed and for the first time he smiled.

Until he continued.

"Just like the lies you love. They are nothing more than cancerous lumps in reality. Lies that pass for truth. They are nothing and can do nothing. If you knew what they really are, there will be nothing left of you for them... Nothing. All they do is create empty things. They create a desolation of hope and a desert for the future."

Red passes through war itself, but it is nothing more than blood that stains the ground.

Azul pretends to be Destiny, but it is a lie that he lies to himself.

Green disguises itself as love. But it's just misery and suffering.

And Pink is not perfection. But stagnation.

They are nothing and in the end they will be destroyed.

At that moment, demons across the planet howled in fury, the crowd gasped in horror, as madness took hold of many.

The Immaterium shook and wrapped itself like a blanket around the planet. The attention of the four turned to the world, and the indivisible will manifested itself, desiring only one thing, His death.

Because those words were said a long time ago...

The priest, overcome with fury, activated the runes to their maximum and then shouted:

"Kill him... Kill him..."

He was then dragged to the altar built from the bones of his people. Before the eight-pointed star-shaped statue, he was forced to kneel. The executioner hovered over him, raising the blood-soaked scythe, and the priest hovered in front of him, pulling his face hard to make him look at him.

At that moment, his vision became blurred and he saw the priest as he was.

It was Chaos.

A million faces intertwined and alternated on the priest's skin, each face a distorted expression of his own corrupted essence. A visual cacophony echoing the multiplicity of influences of the chaos that surrounds him. Each face told a story of despair and corruption, a myriad of souls amalgamated into a single figure. An endless metamorphosis, a polyphonic monstrosity that defied mortal comprehension, full of faces writhing and contorting in an eternal cycle of filthy scarlet, putrid green, grayish blue, and purplish black.

He saw Annihilus' face, and Annihilus saw his face.

You regret? You accept?

Never.

So die for the glory of the true gods.

The executioner raised the scythe and swung it hard, pointing it at the neck.

He felt death coming; he knew he was going to die.

His life flashed before his eyes and he could only smile.

Because it was a life lived according to His will.

And also because he would leave something for others .

For those who would become the children.

The heirs who built the next kingdom.

They rebuilt Eden.

"Checkmate..."

The sickle struck the neck of the man on the altar and cut off his head with a single blow, and the blood gushed powerfully onto the altar and then ran down onto the floor.

The priest then noticed something strange about the blood; it was not red like human blood. It was black as night, a black that nevertheless shone.

The blood soon began to glow with a strong black light.

Light spread across the tundra, and wherever the light shone, those touched by the chaos turned to dust.

The chaos priest realized with horror. The light was Death .

Everyone on the tundra knew at that moment, with absolute certainty.

The light was the Opposite , the Counterpart , the Echo of what was to come .

And there were laws, two laws. And offered a choice.

All beings touched by chaos under the light died a true death.

Those who were not touched were healed.

Those who were touched, but not by free will. A choice was given.

This choice, however, is another story.

Even though he was killed, his soul remained in the world for a while before leaving. He then extended his soul into his heart and from his radiant chest emerged four fragments of dark lights.

He looked, saw and understood what they were. It was his divinity that he built throughout his life.

Purposeful battle...

Immutable Wisdom...

Innocent Purity...

Disorderly Beauty...

That which would fight against that which annihilated everything.

But it was still not enough because the false light of the one who would come still remained.

Then he reached out to the Beyond and took possession of what he acquired before coming to this world.

A crimson scale of dream personified.

A scale that would swallow part of the 4 fragments and become the meeting point of the 4 attributes of His divinity.

Thus the Crystallized Dream would be born, the definition of the coming kingdom, the Rest of the fallen, the house he built for his children, the desire of those who would come to believe, and the rest of the fallen in His Name!

The kingdom of the fallen.

He then saw the warp gate opening and his soul was pulled into it, into the realms of chaos. Where did he meet 4 or 5? tried to torture him.

Despite all this, he smiled.

Because they never had power over him.

He had won.

Wanting to stop, he stopped.

Turning his eyes to the world below, he saw everyone who they were, would be, or had been.

Wishing to know, he looked into the eternity to come and saw as the black fortress fell from the sky and caused the end of the world below and decreed the beginning of the end.

He saw the horror and joy that would spread across the galaxy.

And despite everything that happened and would happen.

He laughed, a laugh full of joy.

A laugh that filled the materium and the immaterium.

And for a single moment he silenced the laughter of the thirsty gods.

With one last smile.

He pushed the 4 fragments and the Dream into the immaterium.

"It's done."

He then allowed his soul to dissipate into nothingness because the purpose he didn't remember until now was fulfilled. Your current soul.

And when the soul dissipated, and the fragments united by the Impossible Dream entered the immaterium. The galaxy shook and the gods screamed.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Because now the reflection had a reflection.

Everything they weren't, the fragments were.

In that moment, in that second, right after he died, he acquired the last piece and became a God.

A God who chose to die.

So that those who were born and would be born could fight and possibly win . Even those who were struck by Annihilus' touch.

In those 4 fragments was the counterpart of the 4 lies, and in their sum was the opposite of the false light born after the heresy.

And that was enough.

In 5 thousand different worlds, of 5 thousand different races, there was the echo of the voice of the one who had the flesh of man but the soul of God.

Of the man whose will became eternal and of the God whose life disappeared forever.

And that was enough.

Because his will was very simple.

May all those who chose to follow serve the one whose number was 5, survive and prosper.

That they could be more than their nature. This choice would be offered even to the children of the immaterium and outer darkness.

(Year 001 - 42nd Millennium – Segmentum Ultima – Badab)

"In the twilight of the 42nd Millennium, the galaxy is shaped by the echoes of a will that transcended death itself. Across the stellar reaches, the will of the Lord of the Fallen echoes, whispering influence into the hearts of the 5,000 destined worlds in the dark empire. Under Under its mantle, a nascent kingdom emerges from the chaos, an ordered and dark chaotic order, which is established in the aftermath of the Great Schism, giving rise to the Impossible Dream.

Amidst the darkness, the armies of the Lord of the Fallen advanced, rooted in the fragments of modernity. Each fragment is a piece of the cosmic game, a Purposeful Battle, Unchanging Wisdom, Innocent Purity and Disorderly Beauty. The heirs appear and incarnate what should never be incarnated. They are the generals who are at the forefront of the embodiments of the will of Annihilator and Anathema. The battle for supremacy in the galaxy rages on, as the Lord of the Fallen, a dead God whose will lives on, guides his followers in the forging of destiny, bringing with him the promise of an eternal kingdom beneath the ashes of the fallen empire.

Because at this moment a new possibility was born: the laughter of Man and the cries of the Thirsty Gods."