Weird as it was, I'd left my heart and blood mostly intact with only some enhancements so they could transfer much more oxygen and work even under high Gs. I didn't need them. I could live off of only bio-energy well enough and my base Psyker Form didn't even have blood or a heart anymore.
What I realized when I looked into what bio-energy does to my cells to achieve this was that it is directly controlling and maintaining my mitochondrial transmembrane electric gradients in all my cells. Although it is enormously difficult to do with any nanotech we can conceive of, this is enough to bypass the need for oxygen for energy metabolism. It would also mean I don't need my blood to circulate anywhere as rapidly as it does in animals. Since oxygen is poisonous, this would be beneficial in normal environments too.
I'd still need blood if it only did that but bio-energy could transplant any form of other energy needed to support the functioning of a biological organism, this also left open the question whether I could apply this in direct combat somehow but I put little effort into this. A lightning bolt made of bio-electricity was viable, but I could do just that with psychic powers, exactly that as biomancy had that same spell as one of its staples. Even Val knew it.
Where was I going with this again?.... Right, blood, and why did I have a heart? The same reason I had emotions, feeling my excitement or nervousness have physical effects on my body felt nice, normal even. Normalcy was a hard thing to come by in this galaxy and every bit was precious, so even if it was both redundant and unnecessary I had a heart and blood flow. It was also a must if I wanted to stay capable of blushing. Very important!!
An illusion flickered around me, concealing me from the slowly organizing Tyranids as I flew above the battlefield. The sky — much like the ground — teemed with aliens - massive fighter-jet-sized creatures accompanied by small sky-slashers. They flew among many floating spore sacks, poised to release their corrosive or combustible contents upon an unsuspecting prey.
Artillery beasts screeched in an ungodly voice as they shot boiling acid missiles through the air. They painted a large arc onto the pink sky before coming back down and bursting on the outer walls of the Fortress.
Atiesh twitched to the side, smashing a large Gargoyle to the side with an overpowering force wave which sent it careering through several exploding sacks that coated the falling beast in scorching flames.
"Good stick," I ran my finger along it. The thing was weird, having some sort of animalistic sentience, but unlike machine spirits, it didn't have any soul I could sense.
"What say you, warriors of Baal?" My ears caught a weathered voice carrying a calm ferocity, "That we let slip the Red Thirst one final time, and fly upon wings of wrath with our lord unto battle?
I commend you all, oh ye mighty, to the protection of the Great Angel.
For the Emperor, for Sanguinius!
There is no more beauty to be had from life, so let us then seek a beautiful death!"
"A beautiful death! For the Emperor! For Sanguinius!" The chorus of the transhuman warrior's shout shook the basilica they were in and I let myself smile.
My gaze flickered to another place for a moment. Deep within the Swarm, I sensed more than saw something. It was vast and intelligent, a predator that conquered galaxies and had power enough to bring death upon many more. Deep, ancient hunger radiated from it, making it known to all who dared to look at it as the architect of their end.
Once again, like with the Lord of Change, I stared into the Abyss. My Third eye snapped open, and I pierced through the veil of ash clouds and warp concealment around the nexus point of the Swarm, something shifted and I felt something flicker across my presence but for a moment and then I felt it.
Uncontained hunger and fury. It wasn't directed at me, not entirely, but enough of it was so I understood it knew, it knew who I was. It knew I was the one who made a meal out of it before. Be it a single tiny Ripper or a Norn Queen they were all Tyranids, all parts of the Hivemind, sure a Norn Queen equaled to billions if not trillions of Rippers if one compared their effects on the Hivemind but it didn't change the fact that in that eldritch intelligence, all these monsters below me were one.
Single cells of the same organism.
The manifestation of the Hive-Mind shrieked and caused the Warp — which calmed from the shadow slowly spreading over it — to roil and crash back. The Warp-based Psychic attack did absolutely nothing to me and the sonic attack slipped off of a quick barrier I tossed up with Atiesh's help. Good stick, who is a good stick? You are!
I smirked as I sensed the being return to its previous resting position. You are going to be my dinner today, overgrown bug.
My heart pounded still, not out of nervousness but from excitement. I wasn't nervous, the one thing I dreaded was Selene somehow dying but with that armor and me keeping a telekinetic connection with both her and the armor that should be challenging for anyone to accomplish. So no, I wasn't overly nervous.
I am finally stepping onto the main stage!
So many novels and fanfiction I read and hardly any of them were of a character that actually made a difference. Who was better than this shithole galaxy, who had the power to be what I aimed to be.
Dante, Gabriel Seth, Astorath, Mephiston and Guilliman. All of them are people I have a chance to meet.
And eat.
"Ouch," I slapped myself in the face before wiping the drool off the edge of my mouth, "Let's try not murdering some of the biggest heroes of the Imperium, that'd make for a horrid first impression."
What did first impressions matter when I could probably throw fists with a Primarch? Well, a Primarch didn't amount to all that much if you counted the whole combat capability of the Imperium. What they had though was Legions of Space Marines ready to die for them and billions praising their names and worshipping them as demigods. Especially Guilliman whose name was legitimately a synonym for 'Regent' as in Lord Regent and Lord Guilliman were interchangeable titles in Gothic.
Lord Guilliman Guilliman. I giggled at the thought.
What I was getting at was that even with Selene acting as a tree to hide behind, she was an arguably thin tree with her ship stolen. Sure, she'd still be respected but how much shit hitting the fan could she swipe under the rug like this? Could she actually pull her weight when an inquisitor came around and started poking their crooked noses into my business? I wasn't sure; I wasn't versed in imperial bureaucracy but I knew Selene wasn't in a good position from their standpoint. They couldn't know that the most awesome eldritch monster was willing to go to war for her.
Now, if the Imperial Regent himself vouched for me and dumped some important title on my head, wouldn't that be fucking convenient?
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I knew just what he wanted too, information.
With a pained creak, the gates of the fortresses opened and out came bounding, frothing monsters the size of tanks that still somewhat resembled humans.
"KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL," only one could still talk coherently, if you could call that coherent, but what they could do fucking well was rip apart Tyranids, apparently.
One of them bounded up to a Carnifex close to the fortress, crushing Gaunts and Warriors under his bulky feet like flies and as the Carnifex launched itself at the brute, the mindless berserker grabbed at it. With the still weak control the Hive-Mind had on its toys, the Carnifex didn't dodge in time as bulky fingers wrapped around its legs and torso.
The hulking abhuman raised the alien above his head as it squirmed helplessly and tore it in half, bathing himself in acidic blood, which only made his skin blister for a few seconds before it healed back up.
Dozens of scenes similar to this played out as the small group of berserkers crashed into the endless swarms and paved the way for their saner brethren with blood. These were the 'damned' or so the Blood Angels called them, once hopeful aspirants reduced to mindless beasts as they failed to turn into the noble Space Marines. Usually, the aspirant just died. The odds of success in the process were rather abysmal, but there were a few who lost themselves to the black rage before even fully becoming a Space Marine which mutated them into the hulking monsters rampaging down there.
This is a bit too tame to be the end of time, but I can see where they are coming from. From their perspective, the line of Sanguinius might die along with them right here and right now.
Autocannons roared to life all around the walls of the fortress and started blasting into the endless wave of Tyranids, the people manning them were hardly trained for it but with the enemy spreading from horizon to horizon, hitting them wasn't much of a challenge, reloading without getting a bone-spike to the head was much more of a worry though as one man experienced just now.
A soft sigh left my lips as I felt Selene arrive right under me with a path of liquified Tyranids in her wake. I was worried about her, but I wasn't her mother. Coming off as overbearing or annoying wasn’t something I wanted to do. I gave her more than enough tools to match up to some of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy and if someone whom she couldn't defeat came for her life, I could always just appear next to her.
A smile spread across my face as Atiesh snapped into my palm. The fabric of reality trembled as I briefly entered and exited.
"Oh," Selene turned to where I stood, looking vaguely in my direction before I expanded the illusion to cover her. Now that she could see me, her eyes focused on me, "So?"
"Look," I turned and pointed at the figures dashing out of the Fortress with a squad of golden beings flying carried by winged jetpacks, "The lead one is Commander Dante."
"The one with the... mask?" Selene narrowed her eyes as she saw the man land on the head of a Tyranid warrior and smash it into gory paste beneath his boots before jumping back into the air, slaughtering war beast after war beast.
"Yes," I nodded as my eyes tracked him, "That is Sanguinius' death mask. They say it perfectly replicates the Primarch's features."
"Shouldn't we help him?" she frowned as she watched the last raging abhuman being pulled under the tide of aliens. "… them?"
"You are free to do so," I inclined my head, "Hmmm, I'm just wondering how much to show them … ah don't absorb stuff in front of them, please."
"Sure?" she nodded with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not here to announce to the world that I am a Xenos, Selene," I glanced at her for a moment, "no matter how strong I am, a cyclone torpedo wouldn't be something I want dropped on my head."
"You can just revive, right?"
"But it would be an awful waste of energy," I shrugged, "and besides, I might come back, but you can't."
"Ehm," she blushed a bit at the firm look I gave her, "It'd take a Primarch to kill me with this thing on."
"Or a Necron Destroyer," I corrected her, "or one of the other thousands of extremely dangerous beings lurking in the void."
"It's so weird that you are this paranoid," she grumbled. "Even with the little of it you gave me, I feel like a demigod."
"I am not paranoid," I shrugged, I really wasn't, "I just know how many things are out there that are beyond the current me, but along with them, I see just as many opportunities to overtake them."
"Like this," she turned back to the battlefield as Atiesh dutifully sent flying any beast that came close to our little bubble of calm.
"Yes," my lips cracked into a grin, "like this, so if you'll excuse me, I have to go eat some people and kill some aliens."
"What about me," she said as I turned to leave, "what should I do?"
"Whatever you wish for Selene," I smiled back at her, "I think the Swarmlord might be still too much for you, but the rest should be perfect prey for you to hone yourself on."
"Okay," she licked her lips as she scanned the battlefield before nodding, "I'll go help them."
"Be careful," I warned as I once again grabbed my obedient staff, "they are deep into the Red Thirst. It wouldn't surprise me if they thought you are the enemy and tried to rip you apart."
"W-what?" she glanced at me, "Oh, okay."
"Good luck, Selene," I said as I traced a circle on the elusive veil.
"Good luck, Echidna," she whispered back.
As the head of my staff connected to the starting point of the circle, the shape came to life like a scorched painting of reality itself, and inside I saw a different place. After a step, the portal hissed shut behind me.
Dr. Strange has nothing on me now.
I materialized next to a fallen Space Marine, one of the winged ones that the ravenous beasts had torn apart. I sent out a psychic shockwave charged with Psyflame, turning anything not in my immediate vicinity like the corpse into white ash which then softly drifted through the air, concealing me.
One lock of my hair shifted and turned into a tendril, plunging into a gash in the once mighty warrior's armour and fed on his flesh. The tendril expanded, scanning, mapping, absorbing, analyzing, assimilating, and then it retreated once only the ceramite shell was left of the once mighty warrior from the Sanguinary Guard. It morphed back into a lock of pale white hair.
40% already, or maybe only 40%? He was in a rather messy state.
Fortunately, there wasn't a lack of Astartes corpses around here so as the last sons of Sanguinius fought for their survival I walked around and collected more than enough of them to push my gene template of the 'Astartes - (Sanguinius variant)' well beyond 100%. Not that I could already turn into one of them, I'd need to create a single whole template out of the dozens of fractured ones but with every part of their body being scanned it'd be faster than what I had to do with the Eldar where I needed to fill out the gaps based only on their DNA.
Once I was done with that, I headed over to where I felt the good Commander from. His soul was quite clear in this sea of bestial souls and average Astartes.
I could tell that he was falling already. He was giving in more and more to the Red Thirst. It was a trade really, sanity for power, and when a Blood Angel gave up their last vestiges of sanity, would they gain the greatest strength, falling into what they called the Black Rage. Commander Dante was pushing himself closer and closer to that edge with every passing minute and every fresh scar or injury that adorned his body and armor.
'Commander' I let my telepathy slide into his mind, carrying peaceful emotions. Hopefully, he wouldn't think that it was a Psychic attack.
'What? Who is this?' I saw him stumble slightly. A Tyranid Warrior prime needed no more prompting to skewer him.
'An ally, hopefully,' I sent as Atiesh lashed out at the offending Tyranid with an Eldritch Blast. The beam of white energy only flickered into existence for a nanosecond, but it obliterated the target into a white mist.
'I don't need your help, demon,' he bit back as I felt someone try to intimidate me and when I glanced at the source, I found an ephemeral angel glaring at me, sword raised to strike.
'Demons are already helping you on Baal Prime,' I snickered, 'but I am offering you a chance to live, though I know that is the last thing you'd want.'
'Begone already,' he growled, lashing out at the aliens converging on him before jumping back into the air, 'or show yourself.'
"Gladly," the air vibrated with my voice as my illusion fell away. Right in that instant did most of the Tyranids shift their path and throw themselves at me. I felt the Swarmlord shift again, but remained motionless aside from that. My force field was going at full force, projectiles curved around me and the few beasts that landed strikes at my armor couldn't as much as scratch it.
Let's be dramatic. Psychic flame formed a blade in my hand, which I held with both hands before plunging it into the ground.
For a second there was silence as the beasts closest to me froze, their instincts honed over eons warning them of the danger, but it was too late, so very late. A shockwave coated in white flames expanded slowly at first, expanding far up into the sky before it started swirling, I stood in the storm's eye as my tornado of flame fueled by the souls of the dead collapsed into a glowing ring around me before it finally exploded.
The fire washed over the battlefield and Tyranids, be it the smallest maggot acting as a bullet or a mighty Carnifex, burned. I could have evaporated them instantly, but hearing thousands of aliens scream in pain and suffering was pleasing to a deeply sadistic part of me and I was sure the Astartes would agree with me. They didn't scream, flames washed over them like the Tyranids but left them with only harmless specks of flames sticking to their armor, which they'd find out later enhanced their inherent healing factor.
"I'll say it again Luis Dante, Greatest son of Sanguinius," He stood alone in a field of ash and burnt carapace, staring at a being he couldn't possibly understand, "I want an alliance."