Interlude 1: The Warp's Game Room?

Location: The Warp, a Game Room??

...

It was as if someone had arbitrarily chosen a spot in a space where the height above, the depth below, the width to the left, and the vastness to the right were all unknown. 

Out of this pure black void, a game room's floor, stereotypically patterned in black and white squares, abruptly materialized.

A single white light bulb swayed from the blackness above, casting a plain, pale light over a circular area.

On the black-and-white tiled floor, there was an ordinary, four-legged round table made of reddish-brown wood, covered with a neat black velvet tablecloth. 

On the tablecloth lay countless game pieces, some small, some large, arranged in a complex and dense pattern.

No one touched the pieces, yet they moved on their own, each one shifting according to its own set of rules.

Every second, countless pieces vanished; every second, countless more appeared.

...

Originally, the space was silent.

But suddenly, as if in the blink of an eye, five figures had already gathered around the small table.

One of them was a bloated figure, with yellow-green pus continuously oozing from its massive belly. 

It sat on a chair made of sturdy vines—one half vibrant and teeming with life, with bloodied flowers happily exuding pus and filthy water, and the other half withered and decayed, death and silence tangled in its branches.

But if someone observed closely, they would see that the two sides of the chair were constantly shifting. 

One moment the dead side would flourish, and the next moment it would wither again.

The pus splattered on the round table, soaking the nearby tablecloth with its foul-smelling liquid.

But the other figures at the table paid no heed to this disrespectful scene.

...

Another figure, constantly shifting and flickering, "sat" on a crystal chair that was also in a state of constant change. 

At times, tentacles would sprout from its body, only to be replaced by bird-like beaks that chattered incessantly.

The only constant was the blue glow that alternated between bright and dim, deep and shallow.

The crystal chair itself continually morphed, flickering with bizarre and colorful lights. 

Sometimes, its shape would become so strange that it could hardly be called a chair, yet the figure atop it always found a comfortable position to "sit."

...

A roar of angry red light emanated from a chair made entirely of skulls, gilded with brass. 

Compared to the other figures' seats, the chair made of skulls seemed rather crude.

But the figure liked it that way.

Next to the chair, a battle-axe filled with a violent aesthetic had been driven directly into the floor.

Countless streams of blood continuously gushed from the cracks between the skulls. 

The figure, who represented justice and brutality, constantly muttered words of rage.

...

Beside this figure sat a constantly writhing, alluring figure, with a serpent-like body shimmering in strange purple light. 

Perfect yet eerie, with a body covered in scales that reflected a strange light, this figure softly hummed and sighed, their serpentine form entwining with the chair. 

Occasionally, parts of the tail would suddenly tighten or relax, accompanied by a sharp hiss of breath.

Their chair was the epitome of artistic perfection, with countless patterns etched upon it—patterns that the greatest artists could only dream of creating.

...

These four figures took up most of the space around the round table. 

Green ooze, blue light, blood, and lustful fluids seeped from their seats, slowly soaking and corroding the game pieces on the black velvet tablecloth.

In contrast to the other figures, the last one took up the smallest space on the table.

But this did not diminish his nobility.

He wore a simple white robe, without any decoration. 

The robe was made of plain linen, covering a physique that represented the peak of human strength, with muscles that were powerful yet perfectly aligned with aesthetic principles.

Despite being clearly ignored by the other four figures, occupying the smallest, even cramped, space at the table, he remained calm and composed, seated in a chair crafted from gold that glimmered softly.

On the round table, under the white light, there were twenty-one game pieces that clearly stood above the countless others, each intricately carved and shining with a brilliance that caught the attention of the other figures.

However, most of these exquisite pieces were gathered close to the most inconspicuous player, causing the four other gods to shake their heads in discontent.

Greedy fool, he must pay a price.

Contracts are not equivalent to rules. 

Breaking a contract requires them to personally deliver punishment.

However, the moves on the game board were ever-changing, and the time had not yet come. 

The story had not yet reached its climax.

On the board, near the area dominated by death and decay, there stood a finely crafted piece, shaped like a figure holding a scythe. 

It moved slightly according to its own rules.

Next to it, the kindly father had placed a decaying, alien-like piece. 

The two had been locked in combat from the very beginning, their tiny yet intricate duel constantly amusing the kindly father.

But at some point, a seemingly insignificant piece nearby had grown slightly larger. 

This did not escape the gods' notice.

At first glance, this piece seemed like any other insignificant piece, nothing special.

But upon closer inspection, one could see a black dot on it.

An untouchable? 

These dark pieces were always detested by the gods.

But upon even closer inspection, it became clear that the black dot was, in fact, a tiny hole.

A deep, tiny hole, leading who knows where—an extremely small spot that seemed to connect to another vast, infinite space.

Nurgle grumbled, the god of stagnation never liked these occasional little creatures.

They appeared so rarely and were often confused.

According to the gods' tacit understanding, these little creatures that might threaten the whole world should be eliminated directly.

Moreover, this annoying little creature was next to his favorite piece.

He began to rearrange his layout, but conflict arose at the far end of the board, at the boundary with the Changer of Ways.

Annoying thing.

The god of stagnation and the god of change were mortal enemies, constantly at war with each other.

As Nurgle and Tzeentch tangled with each other, the Lord of Humanity continued to calmly advance his pieces.

Finally, he reached it.

The finely crafted piece holding the scythe and the seemingly insignificant piece were both now in his hand.

He did not immediately erase the small piece.

"Oh—no way?"

Slaanesh twisted their body dramatically, their face contorted in an exaggerated expression that might be the most extreme one they could imagine.

"Are you going to alter our little agreements?"

"You can't keep pulling these little tricks!!! This won't do the world any good?!!"

The red figure raged, The blue figure let out a maniacal shriek of laughter,

"See? I wasn't the first to break the agreement!"

"However."

A sly and cunning light flickered in their eyes.

"If you insist on doing this, then we can also change the agreements."

"You're the one who wants to play. Have you forgotten the beginning?"

Nurgle looked unhappily at Tzeentch, that damned blue bird.

"Exactly, you're the one who wants to play! It's always you?!"

Slaanesh threw a flirtatious glance at Tzeentch. 

They didn't mind these little tricks, though they were dangerous, they brought a unique thrill.

"Unlike you two, the rest of us have no interest in these boring and risky machinations!!!"

...

Seeing that the Emperor was still holding his piece, the gods didn't argue further. 

The Changer of Ways extended a "hand" and slapped the table.

The agreement was rewritten.

A change occurred in the tiniest part of the board.

No one noticed, and the four gods returned to their previous state, as if the earlier scene hadn't drawn much of their attention.

The Lord of Humanity seemed to be ignored once again, but he remained calm.

...

Behind him, In the darkness beyond the light, the Fool silently entered the scene. 

The loser of the last game had already been mocked off the table by the four gods.

From a place unseen beneath the table, he handed two pieces to the Emperor.

A twisted smile of resentment and anger spread across his face.

The Emperor smiled.

===

Fun Fact: The protagonist's name—Hades—is the name of the god of the underworld in ancient Greek mythology.

He is the ruler of the underworld, death, and suffering, and is a symbol of the souls of the deceased.

At the same time, he doesn't really manage much.

He's often confused with the god of death.

The Warp does not have a game room, so this chapter doesn't exist. None of the events described above took place anywhere; it's all made up.

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