Unlucky isekai? (Warhammer 40000)

The appearance of their light kin was met with an outraged howl that echoed throughout Commorragh. 

The sight of their kin betraying them, siding with the mon-keigh, drove the Dark Eldar into a frenzy. The Drukhari didn't particularly care that they had spent millennia tormenting and killing their own kind and the rest of the galaxy. 

"Why us?" was the thought that involuntarily dominated the minds of the Drukhari. 

The arrogant and self-satisfied xenos had delighted in torturing and insulting other races, but when the same was done to them, they didn't like it one bit. 

Over the millennia of their existence, there wasn't a single race that hadn't suffered at their hands. The black ships of the Eldar scoured the galaxy, as the Archons preferred the most unusual and interesting slaves. And the need for fresh slaves never waned. 

Meanwhile, Vect's ziggurat was clearly struggling. The sudden strike from the Dragon ships had shaken its shields and forced it to halt, overwhelmed by the pressure of the energy lances. But this forced pause was eagerly exploited by the Imperial fleet. 

The giant ships slowly turned and unleashed the full power of their macro-batteries and lance weapons on the ziggurat floating beneath them. 

And though Vect's ship represented the pinnacle of modern Eldar technology, even it couldn't withstand the combined might of two space fleets. 

The energy shield flickered and disappeared, and in the next second, shells and beams pierced the armor, burning and tearing massive holes, triggering explosive reactions within. 

"BOOM!" Commorragh was illuminated by a powerful flash as the ziggurat was instantly transformed into a blazing, superheated sphere. The force of the explosion was so great that even the city's surface was affected, leaving behind only glassed, molten rock. 

The death of the ziggurat finally made it clear to all sides that the era of the Dark Eldar's dominance had come to an end. Yes, the Drukhari were still strong, and their army and fleet were significant, but it wasn't enough due to their critical disunity. 

There was no one among them who could lead them all. No one to form a cohesive fleet capable of repelling the humans and the Craftworld Eldar. 

Like rats, they all scrambled to gather their belongings and flee in all directions. No one cared about the others. Each was saving themselves, spitting on their fellow kin. 

Only a few kabals were organized enough to avoid complete panic and retreat in an orderly manner. 

For example, the Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue, led by Aurelia Malys, successfully fended off the human attacks. Several smaller kabals had joined her, so their combined strength was enough to complete the evacuation and disappear into the Webway. 

Where were they headed? Who knows. The galaxy is a vast place, and there's plenty of room to hide. 

There were other unusual moments as well. For some strange reason, the human and Eldar fleets barely attacked the retreating coven of Lelith Hesperax. Rumors circulated that some higher power had brokered a deal, but few knew even the slightest details. 

But if some Drukhari managed to escape successfully, Asdrubael Vect was not so lucky. The attackers had done everything to ensure he couldn't avoid his fate. 

However, this led to unpleasant consequences. 

The Dark Eldar trapped in Vect's fortress, realizing their time was up, decided to sell their lives as dearly as possible in their twisted cruelty. Every hall, passage, room, or staircase became a deadly trap, claiming the lives of anyone who dared to enter. 

The Drukhari laughed as they blew themselves up, wanting to take as many of the lesser races with them as possible. Deadly poisons were also sprayed into the air. 

It was a true nightmare and meat grinder, but it was there that Saint Stanislav marched. The skills and knowledge ingrained in his very being broke through any defense. The blazing light burned and exploded everything the Dark Eldar dared to throw at the living saint of the Emperor. 

There wasn't a single major clash that Ordynets ignored. He was always on the front lines, charging into the most dangerous and difficult situations. 

Inspired by his example, the Imperial soldiers also showed acts of heroism and self-sacrifice. 

But with each new hall, the difficulty of the battles increased exponentially. 

Vect had surrounded himself with the best and most experienced Drukhari fighters, which, given their lifespans, meant at least hundreds of years of the most horrific and brutal battles and wars. 

The strongest Incubi, the most experienced Wyches, and the fastest Hellions and Skyboard riders. 

At some point, the only ones who could keep up with Stas's pace and survive were the Space Marines of the Blood Angels and the Grey Knights. Only their superhuman reflexes allowed them to react in time to the drugged-up Dark Eldar, who were using the most potent combat stimulants, knowing they would be dead in a few hours. 

"Explosion!" Golden light formed into an energy ram, which, though not on the first try, finally broke through the heavy gates to the ruler of Commorragh's private chambers. 

Only a few individuals stepped inside, if they could even be called that. 

The resolutely advancing Saint looked almost unharmed. Only a few places on his armor bore marks of hits, but none had managed to harm him. The dozen surviving Blood Angels and a pair of Grey Knights in Terminator armor, however, looked much worse. 

There wasn't an inch of their armor that hadn't been damaged. In some places, the ceramite was pierced, revealing wounds beneath. But the Emperor's Angels showed no sign of pain. 

Mocking applause greeted the newcomers. 

At the far end of the hall, sitting on an iron, predatory throne, was the one whose death most of the galaxy desired. 

Asdrubael stopped clapping and leaned back in his throne with a sneer. No one else was in the hall, but no one relaxed. What was particularly unnerving was that, despite the dire situation, Vect was as cheerful as ever. 

"Who do I see!" the ruler of Commorragh twisted his lips into a semblance of a smile. "Could it be those pathetic monkeys whose ancestors were still digging in the dirt when our race ruled the galax…" 

Bolter shells lodged in a force field just in front of Vect's face. One of the Space Marines lowered his bolter slightly, realizing that the throne's defenses were too strong to breach with a single shot. 

"What else could be expected from primitives. No ability for dialogue. Though, what can I expect from fools who worship a living corpse. Even the Orks seem smarter in that regard…" Vect, stalling for time, finally waited for the energy trap to fully charge and activated it with relish. 

This trap was his pride. Based, once again, on the technology of their ancient enemies, the Necrons, it was dangerous not only to physical entities but to energy-based ones as well. Considering his opponent was a living saint, the Imperial equivalent of a Chaos daemon prince, Vect was already preparing to savor his horrific death. 

While the Dark Eldar spoke, Saint Stas did nothing, which made his troops glance at him nervously but also stand their ground. When the green mist surrounded them, even the Emperor's Angels began to worry. 

That's why, when the Necron pylons embedded in the walls and ceiling sparked and shut down, the surprised expression froze not only on Vect's face but also on the Blood Angels, though their helmets hid it completely. 

"What?! Why isn't anything working again?!" Vect screamed like a wounded animal, almost tearing out his long, dark hair. 

"First time?" Stas asked philosophically, sighing humbly. "And here I was almost hoping." 

"Fine," Vect spat. "If you want something done right, do it yourself!" 

At that moment, the fake walls exploded, and hidden Incubi attacked from all sides. The Space Marines bravely took the brunt of the assault, while Stas charged forward at full speed. 

The Emperor's sword flared with flame as it slammed into the energy barrier with a thunderous crash. A wave rippled across the shield, but it held. 

Vect, however, paid no attention to the saint hammering at his last line of defense. 

Asdrubael pulled out a black box, opened it, and took out several syringes, methodically injecting their contents into his neck. 

The black veins already on his face became more pronounced, forming a grotesque pattern on his alabaster skin. But that was just the beginning. 

"Didn't think it would come to this, but I have no choice," Vect muttered, pressing a few symbols on the throne. A pink sword, resembling the flayed flesh of a daemon, emerged from a hidden compartment in the armrest. 

One glance at the repulsive weapon was enough to know which Chaos god it belonged to. 

Long ago, Vect had dared to make a deal with She Who Thirsts. He had offered her the souls of a thousand of his kin, and in return, she had given him a powerful artifact of "last revenge." 

It wouldn't save Asdrubael, but it would give him the strength to take revenge. 

Reluctantly gripping the hilt, Vect gritted his teeth as the flesh-eating roots of the sword penetrated his hand and began to change his body. 

Terrible pain enveloped the ruler of Commorragh, but he remained silent, only listening to the crunch of his bones and the flow of his muscles. 

The force field generator screeched, warning of shutdown, as the golden light struck the energy barrier once more. One or two more hits, and it would fail, but Vect deactivated it himself. 

As soon as the shield disappeared, the blurred figure of the Dark Eldar lunged at the momentarily stunned living saint. 

A Space Marine who tried to intercept was killed by the first strike, while the second was met by the flaming sword. 

The living saint and the chosen of Slaanesh locked eyes, then began to furiously exchange blows, each trying to kill the other. 

On Stas's side was the power of the Emperor, his sword, and the knowledge imbued within him. Vect, however, was not far behind. Millennia of experience far outweighed the knowledge of a human, and the combat drugs and daemonic sword made him truly terrifying. 

That's why, despite the fierce resistance, the Emperor's Angels watched in horror as the saint slowly but surely lost ground. Yes, he was parrying the blows, but he was gradually retreating, unable to withstand the onslaught of the daemonic Eldar. 

The Space Marines couldn't come to the saint's aid, as the pressure from the Incubi hadn't let up. 

Suddenly, Ordynets gasped and took a step back. Blood poured onto the floor. The daemonic blade had pierced the left side of his chest, leaving a gaping, unhealing wound. 

The battlefield froze as a triumphant Asdrubael stepped forward, ready to see the fear of death in his enemy's eyes, but… 

"Stronger…" whispered Saint Stas, causing Vect's smile to freeze. 

"What?" 

"What?" Ordynets automatically replied, then corrected himself. 

"I meant to say, don't get distracted, villain. You won't land that final, decisive blow." The living saint roared with enthusiasm, moving the flaming sword aside, thrusting his chest forward, and accidentally glancing away. "You'll never break through my defenses and kill me!" 

It's unknown what the flustered Vect wanted to say, but his hesitation proved fatal. 

The room seemed to explode. Everyone standing between the door and the saint with Asdrubael was thrown aside as something shot through the hall in an instant. 

Slash! 

Vect's arm, still clutching the sword, flew into the air. 

Slash! 

The second arm joined the first. Everything happened so fast that it was impossible to see who was attacking. 

Finally, the attacker slowed enough to reveal the majestic figure of the Primarch of the White Scars. Jaghatai Khan held his mutilated enemy above his head, then tore him in half with a single motion. 

The blood splattering Khan didn't bother him in the slightest; in fact, the Primarch grinned widely. He threw the upper half of Vect's body to the ground, then crushed his head with a powerful stomp. 

Seeing their ruler's death, the guards broke and fled to hidden passages in a vain hope of escape. Some of the Space Marines gave chase. 

The incredible news spread through the dying Commorragh—Asdrubael Vect was dead. 

The Primarch and the remaining Emperor's Angels silently watched the living saint, whose face suddenly tensed. The hole in his chest slowly began to heal, but he didn't seem concerned. 

A significant portion of their attention was also on the Primarch himself. The Blood Angels and Grey Knights gazed in awe at Jaghatai's features and towering figure. 

"Who are you?" Khan asked warily, his attention focused on the white wings. "Are you the son of my brother, Sanguinius? Or has the Emperor finally risen from the Throne, and you are my brother?" 

Ordynets's face twisted in anger. He had been so close! Just a little more, and this madness would have ended! 

"You're no brother of mine…" Stas began irritably, but he didn't get to finish. 

In a green flash, a tall, horrifically thin robot resembling a skeleton, clad in a steel, scaly cloak, appeared beside him. 

No one had time to react as the skeleton placed a hand on the Saint's shoulder, and they both disappeared in another green flash. 

Needless to say, the saint's guards were more than a little disappointed. 

***** 

Asdrubael Vect was in an unusually good mood for his situation. 

Just a few minutes ago, his connection with his clone had conveyed the sensation of the clone's death. In a way, Vect even felt sorry for Cripple, as he called his clone. 

After all, it had been an excellent tool, and it was a shame to lose it. 

But no matter. Sooner or later, the galaxy would hear of him again. For now, Asdrubael would disappear for a while to prepare. 

At the moment, he had boarded one of his hidden ships, where everything was ready for a long journey. No one was nearby, so he could leave in peace. 

The ship's door closed, and the former ruler of Commorragh sat in the pilot's seat. 

"Enter password." A red, glowing message appeared before him. 

Anyone who found this ship and dared to steal it would quickly regret their foolish decision. No one stole from Vect and lived to tell the tale. 

Asdrubael allowed the scanner to scan him, then quickly entered the sequence of symbols known only to him on the holographic keyboard. 

"Sorry, login failed. Please check your password." Vect looked at the red message in confusion. 

A click, and his body was trapped as special restraints locked him into the seat. Only one arm remained free. 

"How could I have messed up? Oh, right!" Vect remembered that he had indeed added an extra symbol to the password for this ship. 

Asdrubael began carefully re-entering the long and complex code. 

Just a kilometer away, an Imperial battleship decided to fire a full volley, causing the area of Commorragh, specifically the hidden shipyard, to shake violently. Vect's finger, instead of pressing the correct final symbol, hit a different one. 

The red message flashed and turned black: "Sorry, login failed. Enjoy eternity in the belly of She Who Thirsts." 

Long ago, Vect had found it amusing to add this message to his ship. Now, he wasn't laughing. 

"Self-destruct systems activated. Three." 

"Curse you!" 

"Two." 

"Primitives, beasts, mon-keigh…!" 

"One." 

"Aaaaaah!!!" 

Boom.