Warhammer 40k: Rise of the Great Horned Rat

Chapter 196 196: The Classic Dwarf-Elf Duo

Though the Great Horned Rat had not manifested his full deific might, he was nonetheless operating through the consciousness of a Chaos God. Consequently, the movements of this single Clanrat possessed a martial finesse far beyond any mortal vermin. Armed with nothing but the bayonet of a crude warp-musket, the rat became a whirlwind of slaughter amidst the suffocating tide of Tyranid invaders.

Lucius gripped the makeshift weapon. By all rights, such shoddy Skryre craftsmanship should have splintered under the strain of prolonged use, yet in his hands, it remained preternaturally unbreakable.

The scuttling Termagants and Hormagaunts were beneath notice; even the formidable Tyranid Warriors proved no match for this possessed rat. With casual, fluid strokes, as if peeling an apple, the Great Horned Rat split the carapaces of the xenos monstrosities, carving through chitin and meat alike.

Sensing a disruption in the local synapse, a Tyranid Dimachaeron lunged forward with terrifying momentum. Its twin scything talons of psychically-charged bone swept through the air with impossible speed and strength, strikes capable of shattering a Leman Russ or deconstructing a Dreadnought into scrap metal.

Yet, the Clanrat controlled by the Great Horned Rat showed no hint of panic.

With a nimble leap, he rolled along the Dimachaeron's chitinous flank. Simultaneously, he drove the warp-blade deep into the beast's side, dragging it along the length of the torso to open a massive, ragged fissure. As the living siege engine spun around, spraying geysers of highly corrosive green ichor, the rat leveled his musket. From a chamber long since emptied of physical ammunition, a bolt of pure, coruscating warp-energy erupted, punching a hole clean through the Dimachaeron's massive skull.

"No, this won't do. There's no challenge at all," Lucius sighed, shaking his head. "It's as tedious as a game of Mount & Blade with every attribute cheated to 9,999."

At that moment, a Neurotyrant drifted into the air, its multifaceted eyes fixed upon Lucius. Though the creature was silent, Lucius immediately felt a colossal, suffocating Will bearing down on him, a psychic gaze radiating waves of insatiable, cosmic hunger.

Within that Will, Lucius's keen senses captured something deep: the resonance of the final, unclaimed seat of the Southern Quadrant of the Chaos Eight-Fold Path, the Aspect of Ravenous Dissolution.

"The Hive Mind? The Great Devourer?" Lucius stared back at the Neurotyrant, feeling the vast, predatory intellect of the Hive Mind scrutinizing him with avarice.

Though he had long suspected it, it seemed only the Four Great Powers had truly realized that the seat of Ravenous Dissolution was already occupied, by the Great Devourer of the Tyranid swarms.

"You wish to consume me, do you?"

Lucius felt the psychic pressure channeled through the Neurotyrant. It was an atmospheric weight sufficient to shatter the mind of any mortal hero; Lucius was certain even a Primarch would struggle against such mental devastation. For an entity that embodied Ravenous Dissolution, there was no finer delicacy than a true God of Chaos.

The mere aftershocks of this hunger caused the surrounding Skaven of Clan Mors to instinctively soil themselves before breaking into a frantic rout.

But the Great Horned Rat was present. With a casual wave of his hand, Lucius dispelled the pressure, or rather, used the essence of the Lord of Distortion to counter the Hive Mind's hunger.

The Neurotyrant did not linger; it was crushed into a pulp of grey matter in an instant. Yet, simultaneously, the entire Hive Fleet Tiamet seemed to undergo a total systemic activation. Every bio-form on the planet redirected its trajectory, surging toward Lucius's location.

"Has the Hive Mind gone mad? Even if it devours this mortal rat-vessel, it gains nothing," Lucius muttered.

Under the Hive Mind's absolute command, the Tyranids abandoned their tactical roles, drawn like moths to a flame, swarming toward him in an ocean of chitin and claws.

As a Chaos God, the Great Horned Rat was hardly intimidated by a Tyranid horde. He gripped his warp-musket, slammed a fresh magazine home, and then... promptly withdrew his sliver of consciousness from the Clanrat's body.

"Now is the time to win glory for your master, yes-yes! Do not disappoint the Great Horned Rat!"

Following this "affectionate" encouragement, the poor little rat, who had been an unstoppable engine of death seconds prior, suddenly snapped back to his own terrified senses. He stared at the encroaching wall of Tyranids, fired a single, panicked shot into the air, and was instantly trampled into a red smear.

…

"Hahahahaha—truly entertaining, God of Treachery!"

"Coward!!"

"That was in poor taste, my friend."

"Hehehe~ a delightful little trick~"

As Lucius's consciousness returned to the Immaterium, the voices of the Four Powers thundered in his ears. Clearly, the four shameless deities had been watching him. Lucius suspected they were keeping a close eye on him because the Emperor's personal intervention during the Plague War had rattled them; they feared the Great Horned Rat was up to some new scheme.

Lucius remained unfazed. The God of Treachery? So what if he sold out his own children? To be sold out by the Great Horned Rat was the highest honor a rat could hope for.

Besides, the excursion hadn't been fruitless. He had finally touched the power of Ravenous Dissolution, a mystery that had eluded him until now.

"Don't laugh, Slaanesh," Lucius barked back, targeting the Dark Prince, the only one of the four he felt comfortable bullying. "You'd better hope the Aeldari don't get their hands on the final Cronesword, or I'll be laughing much louder than you."

Predictably, the other three gods immediately turned their mockery toward Slaanesh.

Within the Palace of Pleasure, Slaanesh's ever-shifting visage turned a bruised, livid shade of teal. This newcomer was intolerable! First, he had snatched away the "vessel" Slaanesh had coveted for ages, and now he was gloating over his spoils.

As for the rumors regarding the resurrection of Ynnead, the God of the Dead, Slaanesh had never truly feared them. If anything, the Prince of Excess was quite looking forward to a god of death attempting to claw its way out of their own womb… as it promised to be a sensation of exquisite, unprecedented stimulation.

…

While the Skaven remained entangled with the Tyranids and Orks, the Leagues of Votann, currently holding the line against a sudden Necron incursion, received an unexpected group of allies.

Yvraine of the Reborn led her Aeldari coalition into the Leagues of Votann's starport on the Shattered Star.

In the world-that-was, Elves and Dwarfs were bitter rivals, but in the grim darkness of the 41st Millennium, the two races shared little animosity. In the realm of commerce, the Kin and the Aeldari actually found each other to be remarkably reliable partners.

Thus, High King Snorri of the Urani-Surtr Regulates granted the Aeldari an audience.

"A sword? You've come all this way for a single sword?"

Snorri blinked, certain he had misheard. These reckless Aeldari were throwing themselves into this meat grinder for a blade?

"Indeed, High King. We ask for no other compensation. It is a holy relic of our people," Yvraine replied, her posture elegant and her voice steady. Years of navigating the treacherous politics of the Imperium and other xenos races had gifted her with an iron composure.

Snorri's white brows furrowed. The insular Leagues of Votann rarely brooked outside interference, but Snorri was no stubborn traditionalist. After a brief deliberation with his Votann Elders, he reached a verdict.

Once the fighting was done, these pointy-ears could take their damn sword and leave!

Despite the gruffness of the response, Yvraine felt a surge of relief. This outcome was infinitely better than she had dared to hope.

After all, if they didn't seize the final sword from the clutches of the Orks, Skaven, Necrons, and Tyranids now, they would have to quest for it within the Warp itself. And that would be a true journey of certain death.

——————

If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)