Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

- My lord! You've finally returned! – The genuine joy in the voices of his subordinates made Stanislav involuntarily smile. 

When he finally reached his inner circle, they correctly understood his wishes and postponed the grand aristocratic reception to the next day. Today, only the closest and most trusted gathered in a small, intimate group. 

- Yes… friends, – the weighty word slipped from his lips, and Ordyntsev himself was surprised by what he had said. – I have indeed returned. 

- I see not without some additions? – Konstantin chuckled slyly, stroking his beard and glancing at the gently swaying white wings. – As I recall, Your Holiness, you once said you weren't quite a Saint? 

Stanislav shot an unimpressed look at the old man and rolled his eyes. 

- There have been some minor changes on Terra, but don't think these two "appendages" have changed anything. I'm still the same person you knew before. 

- Ah, it's a shame my planetary governor can't see this, – Decius Numenorius, the Lord-Constable sent to his death for a false saint, said dreamily. 

But looking at him now, Stanislav saw a man who had finally found his true place in life for the first time. All his efforts were directed toward strengthening the Crusade. Every minute he thought about the campaign, and it thrilled him immensely. 

Ordyntsev surveyed the rest with a faint, sad smile. 

There stood Walter Fischer. A former bandit and murderer who had proven his loyalty and desire for redemption through blood and sweat. During the war on Armageddon, like all the command, he was on the front lines, fighting orks while commanding the offensive. 

After a year, he had grown even stronger, matured, and gained the confidence he had lacked. 

As for Konstantin, there was little to say. The cursed old man seemed to be wearing the same rags Stanislav had first seen him in. 

Each of these people had entrusted him with their lives and hopes. They believed he would lead them to the best possible future. And somehow, mysteriously, it was working out so far. 

But Stanislav, more than anyone, knew that this couldn't last forever. If nothing bad had happened yet, it only meant the universe was saving its wrath for the end. 

The only thing that somewhat saved him was the justification that they had chosen to follow him of their own free will, and he had forced nothing upon them. 

Trying to distract himself from these troubling thoughts, Stanislav introduced his old subordinates to the new ones. 

And Ordyntsev had to admit that the sight of Magos Dominus Iereki Dosa, Canoness Victoria Lester, and Blood Angels Captain Anderson Cole left no one indifferent. Fleet Admiral Russell Hardy wasn't present, as he was busy with the immense task of positioning the massive fleet around Armageddon in case of a sudden attack. 

There was, however, a funny moment. Stanislav was greatly amused by Father Konstantin's reverent expression as he almost stared at the Canoness. The latter, naturally noticing the old man's attention, pretended not to see it. But thanks to his enhanced senses, Ordyntsev could swear it had significantly lifted the woman's mood. 

In terms of reading emotions, Iereki and Cole were the hardest. Both the Mechanicus and the Space Marine had strayed too far from humanity to have standard reactions. Nevertheless, Stanislav's psychic abilities from his sainthood helped a little in this case. 

- Your Holiness, – when everyone finally settled down and took their seats, Captain Anderson of the Blood Angels decided to ask the main question of the day. With his square jaw and short haircut, he stubbornly reminded Stanislav of a commander from an old Warhammer strategy game. – I've heard rumors that during your journey, the Emperor himself contacted you… 

Anderson didn't continue, but it was clear what he was hinting at. The Emperor wouldn't just "call" for no reason. Besides, Ordyntsev grimly chuckled at the mention of "rumors," since it was the Blood Angels who guarded his chambers, and they couldn't have missed the golden illumination that had erupted. 

Fortunately, the proposal the Emperor had relayed, while not as good as Stanislav's own idea, still aligned with his desires. 

- Captain Anderson is right, the Emperor did indeed contact me, – Ordyntsev admitted, ignoring the astonished gasps around him. His comrades nearly jumped out of their seats, so eager were they to hear the words of the ruler of the Imperium. – And he gave us our next target. Our goal… Commorragh! – Stanislav roared the last word with all his might, making everyone jump in surprise. 

Ordyntsev nodded in satisfaction. He hoped that any Dark Eldar spies or whoever was eavesdropping would rush to Commorragh at full speed to warn Asdrubael Vect of their approach. 

If anyone was confused by the Saint's shout, they hid it well. On the contrary, they were all thrilled by the scale of their Crusade's new goal. Though Anderson, as one of the Emperor's Angels, had a good understanding of the dangers involved. 

Having close ties with the Ultramarines and Salamanders, Anderson knew that the City of the Dark Eldar was too powerful. 

Commorragh wasn't just a huge city; even the largest Imperial hives paled in comparison, looking like termite mounds next to a towering mountain. Its size defied ordinary measurements, and its population surpassed entire star systems. 

Commorragh could be described as a vast collection of satellite realms and cities, connected by countless portals and hidden paths. On one hand, Commorragh was a wide system of nodal points spread across the Webway like a malignant virus. Clusters of these nodes were scattered across the galaxy, separated by thousands of light-years. 

However, all these places were connected by shimmering spatial passages. Within the Webway, the vast distances between each sub-realm could be crossed in a single step. 

This was the center of all the Dark Eldar's power and might, where their entire fleet, the cancerous tumor of the galaxy, resided. 

Countless defense systems were ready to meet any attackers, and millions of ships would eagerly engage in a deadly dance above the city's sharp spires. 

Commorragh's defenses were incredibly strong, designed not only against external threats but also against the Dark Eldar themselves, where every Kabal and Archon sought to betray one another. Not a day went by without war between Kabals in Commorragh. 

Despite the strength of their Crusade, attacking Commorragh was practically pointless. Not to mention that every major entrance to the Webway was heavily guarded, making it impossible to sneak in unnoticed. 

But Anderson remained silent. Thanks to Chapter Master Dante, he had access to information about the Saint's achievements, so Cole knew that for Stanislav, nothing was impossible. 

***** 

Asdrubael Vect was as pleased as a Dark Eldar who had lived for over ten thousand years could be. 

Young Dark Eldar craved to experience everything they could reach. They drank the pain and suffering of slaves, enemies, and even friends like some foolish mon-keigh savoring expensive alcohol. Agony gave them strength, youth, and vigor. 

But as the years passed, what once gave so much gradually provided less and less. Unwilling to reduce the dose, the Dark Eldar began to experiment. 

If they were wealthy or powerful, it wasn't hard to find, say, twenty tortured slaves instead of ten. But decades turned into centuries, and dozens turned into hundreds, then thousands. By the time they reached several millennia, the need for thousands of deaths approached a monthly requirement. 

At the ten-thousand-year mark… A Dark Eldar had to consume the suffering of thousands daily. An endless meat grinder of torment to prolong the ancient monster's life just a little longer. 

However, experiments are experiments because they always offer multiple paths. 

Thus, a Dark Eldar could increase the number of victims indefinitely. Or… increase the quality of each victim. And here, the Haemonculi entered the scene. Masters of flesh, virtuosos of torture, and maestros of suffering, even by Dark Eldar standards. 

These beings, almost nothing like the Eldar anymore, could prolong a victim's torment for months or even years, drive them mad, restore their sanity, and drive them mad again with the most diverse and bizarre tortures imaginable in this sick universe. 

And the tortured couldn't even hope for a blessed death, as even in the case of an error, the Haemonculi could easily resurrect them and continue their "work." 

In the end, combining the first and second paths could yield something far more successful. 

So… 

Asdrubael Vect had long since grown weary of all the paths of suffering the twisted minds of the Eldar had devised over the millennia. 

Asdrubael had lived so long that he had witnessed Eldar society before the Fall, which birthed Slaanesh, created the mighty Warp Storm, and toppled the human Federation, which was already on its last legs after the war with the Iron Men. 

In the 32nd millennium, Vect had the misfortune of being a slave in Commorragh. That was the official starting point of his rise to power, when he vowed to become an Archon and lead his own Kabal. 

And in the end, he achieved his goal, pitting several Kabals against each other, then destroying them, absorbing their remnants, and creating the Kabal of the Black Heart. The most powerful, organized, and ruthless Kabal, even by Dark City standards. 

Over the next five thousand years, from the 32nd to the 37th millennium, Asdrubael systematically captured all the satellite realms in the Webway and annexed them to Commorragh. 

Eventually, almost the entire Webway was under his control. Under the rule of the Kabal of the Black Heart. 

Now, nothing could hide from the gaze of the brilliant and terrible Asdrubael. The entire Dark Eldar race was forced to accept his will. 

And now, united under a single will, Commorragh set out with even greater passion to spread suffering to every corner of the galaxy. Black ships of the Dark Eldar pirated and pillaged everywhere, bringing countless streams of slaves into the Webway, their blood flowing down the black spires of the Dark City. 

But the millennia passed, and Vect's thirst grew with them. 

Now, Vect had to venture out more frequently in his modified "Ravager" to enjoy the suffering of entire worlds. To absorb their screams, to see the despair on their dying faces. 

But the hunger tormenting him could not be sated, so sooner or later, the abyss of Asdrubael's gaze turned to his own people. 

From time to time, Vect enjoyed secretly orchestrating grand wars between Kabals to weaken them and reduce the risk to his own ruling Kabal. 

And so, just over a year ago, Vect had another idea to shake up the Kabals, and he initiated a clash between four major factions. A few misplaced messages here, a couple of assassinations there, some captured witnesses, and the Webway erupted into another major war. 

Watching his kin die, Vect's black heart began to beat a little faster, and his stagnant blood flowed rather than crawled through his veins. 

Vect happily added more and more "fuel" to the growing conflict. Burning spires lit up the sky, hired Haemonculi released new batches of modified combat slaves, and thousands of fighters engaged in a deadly dance above Commorragh's fractal structures. 

It seemed everything was going exactly as Vect wanted. The Kabal of the Black Heart remained as strong as ever, while its main rivals grew weaker by the month. 

However, gradually, Asdrubael began to notice something was wrong. Just over six months ago, he decided to start ending the war. The warring Kabals had already lost a significant portion of their strength, and Vect didn't want them completely drained, as he had plans for them. 

But to Vect's surprise, instead of dying down, the war flared up with renewed vigor! Completely unexpectedly, new participants joined the ongoing slaughter, other Kabals, and the flames burned even brighter! 

Being the greatest Archon, Vect immediately realized that someone was playing against him. This someone deliberately prevented the war from ending, aiming to attack him, Asdrubael. 

Vect lay low and spread his nets, trying to identify the cunning opponent, only to realize months later with fury that there was no opponent! 

Meanwhile, the war had spiraled completely out of control. Somehow, messages that were never supposed to fall into the wrong hands did just that. And the accidentally fired disintegrator that vaporized half an Archon's body during a peace meeting? 

Naturally, after this unfortunate incident, everything went completely off the rails. 

Now, looking at the numbers, Vect realized with furious rage that due to the total war, the flow of slaves had dwindled to devastating levels, as everyone was too busy cutting each other's throats to raid for slaves! 

As if that weren't enough, the poor, mutants, and monsters from the darkest and most rotten levels of Commorragh had emerged to the surface. 

The Dark Eldar loved to occasionally stage slave revolts to spice things up and have fun killing the foolish slaves. 

But in the current chaos, finding all the escaped slaves was impossible. And the escaped "meat" only added more chaos to the surrounding reality. 

Hating and fearing their cursed masters with all their hearts, these slaves took revenge and destroyed everything they could reach. Knowing that no mercy could be expected from the Dark Eldar and that even death was preferable to capture, the slaves blew themselves up, taking entire factories, fuel depots, and cloning chambers with them.

Yes, the Dark Eldar lifestyle didn't lend itself to love and care for children, so the Haemonculi had long ago invented ways to clone their population to ensure their numbers continued to grow. 

Though his own Kabal remained largely untouched by the raging civil war, Vect paced like a wounded beast. He saw Commorragh as his twisted child, a possession that belonged solely to him. And now, his toy was being broken right before his eyes! 

However, despite the seemingly dire situation, nothing truly irreparable had happened. 

The Kabals continued to fight, but none were in a hurry to reveal all their cards. The most terrifying weapons, powerful artifacts, poisons, and technology were carefully reserved. 

Among the population, it was mostly the young Eldar who perished, while the older and more experienced watched with interest to see how events would unfold. 

- O Mighty One! – Another messenger cautiously entered Asdrubael's office, quickly freezing as the guards' blades rested on his shoulders. – Urgent news from the Haemonculi! 

- Speak! – A voice that chilled to the bone came from the darkness. 

- The Haemonculi report that one of their largest prisons for particularly dangerous and cruel research subjects has been breached, and their creations have escaped… 

The messenger's head, never finishing its sentence, rolled off his shoulders and fell onto the expensive carpet woven from the hair of tortured Astartes, as the office shook with Vect's roar of fury.