Warhammer 40k: Rise of the Great Horned Rat

Chapter 194 194: Adversaries Are Better Resolved Than Bound

This was far beyond Yvraine's expectations. She had assumed that after leading the rescue of Isha, the prestige of the Ynnari would soar. She had envisioned performing the final rituals to allow Ynnead, the Whispering God, to truly slay Slaanesh, bringing the long-awaited rebirth of the Aeldari within reach.

However, even Iyanna Arienal, who shared a deep bond with Yvraine, had refused the summons. Her reasoning was that Craftworld Iyanden had suffered losses far too grievous and was still in a period of recovery.

While Isha's protection had caused birth rates to rise, the Aeldari still required time to grow, and their natural gestation remained far slower than that of humanity. Of course, Yvraine knew the real reason: compared to the nascent and enigmatic Ynnead, any Aeldari with a modicum of sense would choose the Mother Goddess Isha. She was the one who, in myth, cherished the Aeldari above all, the collective mother of their entire race.

As for the promise of Ynnead slaying "She Who Thirsts," most Aeldari had long since ceased to believe. As one of the four Great Powers of Chaos, how could Slaanesh be so easily unmade?

Fortunately, the "Thanquol among the Aeldari," Eldrad Ulthran, First Seer of Ulthwé, remained a steadfast supporter of Yvraine. As the premier Farseer of their race, Eldrad had, to some extent, perceived the harrowing truth behind the Mother Goddess's return.

The force truly protecting the Aeldari was not merely Isha, but a new Dark God of Chaos. The warp-tainted power of the Great Horned Rat cast a shadow over Isha's radiance, allowing the Mother Goddess to harbor the souls of her children.

Yet, this was clearly no permanent solution. Slaanesh would undoubtedly seek vengeance, and no mortal could afford to gamble on the capricious whims of a Chaos God. Today, the Great Horned Rat might shield Isha for his own amusement; tomorrow, he might just as easily turn her into a plaything and devour the souls she sheltered as mere morsels.

"I am deeply grateful you are still willing to follow me, Eldrad." Yvraine felt discouraged after receiving several cold shoulders. Most of her friends refused to involve themselves in a battle they deemed irrelevant to the Aeldari's immediate survival, even if it was for the final Cronesword.

Eldrad tilted his handsome, melancholic head and spoke softly, "Do not lose heart, Yvraine. Time will prove you right."

"Ahem…"

The Visarch, clad in his crimson armor, gave a fake cough to signal his presence.

"Oh, and thank you as well, Visarch."

"Hmph. For Ynnead."

Seeing the Visarch so easily placated by Yvraine, Eldrad thought to himself: Simps truly are terrifying. By now, nearly everyone in the Reborn knew of the Visarch's devotion to Yvraine, but with her dedication to the God of the Dead, she hardly had time for a romance.

"If no one else is willing to come... how many can the Ynnari still muster?"

The Visarch immediately assumed the role of her seneschal, reporting dutifully, "From Commorragh, the volunteers consist of seven Kabalite Warrior circles, two Wych Cults, fifteen Raiders, one Ravager, and two Talos Pain Engines. From the Craftworlds, we have five squads of Dire Avengers, two of Howling Banshees, one of Striking Scorpions, two of Fire Dragons, two of Shining Spears, twelve Wraithguards, and one Wraithknight."

"Ah... are our numbers so few they can be counted on one's fingers?" Yvraine sighed, her spirit sinking.

"Yes. Since Isha's return, many Aeldari have deserted our cause. You know we have no right to stop them," the Visarch nodded honestly. "However, the energies of the Avatar of Ynnead have largely recovered. If battle commences, the Yncarne can be deployed."

Suddenly, Eldrad's calm expression froze. A powerful psychic signal had slammed directly into the First Seer's prophetic visions.

Eldrad recognized the familiar psychic signature instantly. It was his old nemesis, the Tyrant of Commorragh, Asdrubael Vect.

"Old friend, it has been a long time." Vect's insufferable, gloating voice echoed in his mind via telepathy. Clearly, Vect lacked such innate talent; he was likely using a slave from some psychic race to risk this communication.

Was he not afraid of Slaanesh's gaze? Anyone might bow to Isha, but not Vect. The man was a creature of absolute self-confidence and arrogance; his past as a low-born slave had left him with zero faith in any god.

"Speak your piece and be done with it!"

"Tsk, still so foul-mouthed," Vect teased. "I hear you've been turned away at every door. What's the matter? The God of Death isn't as alluring as the Mother Goddess? Understandable. That woman has quite the curves; she puts even my Succubus concubines to shame."

"You—!" Eldrad was tempted to unleash a psychic backlash that would give Vect a "surprise" similar to the psychic nuke the "Magic Pony" once gave the Emperor, but he restrained himself and bit back with sarcasm.

"Great Vect, Lord of Commorragh, surely the taste of a failed investment is bitter? Let me guess, Lady Malys's prestige has grown enough to challenge you in the Dark City? She is a formidable woman, after all!"

"Hmph! She is still far from my level!" Vect snapped, clearly displeased. He then pivoted, "Regarding your current 'errand'... I might be persuaded to lend a hand. Do you dare accept?"

"Heh. With me here, what is there to fear? I will take whatever you dare to send."

The link severed. Eldrad walked over to Yvraine, who was busy calculating their meager resources. "A 'good friend' is willing to graciously sponsor us. There is no need to worry."

Yvraine glanced at him, offering a word of thanks but not truly believing it. She assumed it was a single house offering a modest contribution. She never would have guessed it was Vect, the very rival who had hunted her out of Commorragh and put a bounty on her head.

But Eldrad knew: Vect was the most shameless of creatures. As long as it preserved his authority, he would ally with any arch-enemy and save his revenge for a more convenient time.

…

Meanwhile, as the Ynnari prepared, down on the Shattered Star:

The final Cronesword had fallen right in front of Queek Headtaker. Though Queek didn't fully understand its origins, the terrifying aura radiating from the blade told him instantly. This was a blessing from the Great Horned Rat!

"Great-mighty Horned Rat! Thanks-thanks... YES-YES! Thanks for the gift!"

Queek scrambled forward, impatient to draw the rapier that bore a distinct Aeldari elegance. The moment it hit Queek's paw, the blade exerted a powerful suction, drinking his blood. It transformed from a slender rapier into a serrated, brass-colored power blade!

"Eldar Slayer—NO-NO! Pointy-ear names are bad-weak! It shall be called... called Bloody Killer!"

Whether the Cronesword had any complaints about Queek's naming sense, it didn't matter. No one could change Queek's mind except his "companion heads."

Under Queek's leadership, Clan Mors had seized the northwestern continental regions, driving out both the Greenskins and the Dwarfs. This also signaled the total termination of the fragile, non-existent truce between Queek and the Freebooter King, Bogg. No one stole the Freebooter King's loot and lived!

As the three-way war raged on the surface of the Shattered Star, two more entangled forces appeared in orbit, screaming toward the planet.

One side was a tomb fleet shaped like crescent moons; the other was a colossal bio-fleet bristling with tentacles. At first glance, it appeared the Necrons were the ones on the back foot.

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