Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

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[Awaken.]

[Awaken quickly.]

[Do not flee your destiny.]

[You were born to break free from it.]

[At any cost.]

——————

A distant voice awakened her. Morgan opened her eyes, only to find herself in a starry expanse, with an endless black earth beneath her feet.

A pale blue star hung in the sky, constantly flickering in her pupils, drawing her forward. With hardly a thought, she followed. Certain voices in her heart told her to trust this star, but when she concentrated, trying to discern these voices, she couldn't hear them clearly.

She walked forward, her steps creating ripples across the earth, like pebbles tossed into a pond, and the starry sky began to move with her.

After she had taken approximately a hundred steps, everything suddenly changed. The once quiet and spherical star instantly grew fangs, transforming into a monstrous, thrashing creature.

At this moment, the serene stars were like a pack of hungry predators. They advanced rapidly, intertwining and twisting, finally shrinking tightly together, then suddenly exploded. From that explosion stretched countless deep blue and pale purple tendrils, like two ferocious deep-sea krakens.

They immediately clashed, yet at the same time, allowed countless tentacles to reach out towards the boundless sky, as if a large drop of blood had fallen into a wine glass. The tangled colors of blue and purple filled her vision in the blink of an eye.

They roared, struggled, from the deepest void to the immediate clash. Every tendril and sharp blade fought selflessly for its master's interests. They vied to reach Morgan's side, unceremoniously tugging at the newborn child, intending to draw her into their embrace.

The power belonging solely to gods thus sparked another war in the confined starry sky. Countless malicious thoughts and emotions erupted from beneath their respective primary gods, finally colliding and merging, becoming sightless vortices that swept Morgan along, surging step by step towards the unknown.

Thirst, distortion, transformation, indulgence, craving for knowledge, indulgence, desire, defiance… They tore at her, condemning her in the name of blessings and gods, yet showed no mercy.

Tugging, brute force, dragging, wailing. Until she was overwhelmed. Until she shrieked. Until that merciless golden light descended from the sky.

That golden light transformed into a greatsword, an unimaginably world-ending divine weapon. It cleaved down from the firmament, tearing through countless mists and nightmares in an instant.

The blue and purple tendrils shrieked and perished before this cold golden light. Immediately after, it unleashed a towering, fiery crimson-gold blaze, and the hideous tableau that had just covered the sky was consumed by flames in the blink of an eye.

After accomplishing all this, the golden greatsword did not linger. It lifted high again, cleaving down fiercely, brutally tearing a massive fissure in the pure black earth. That fissure quickly began to expand and collapse, with blood and wailing continuously emanating from it.

Accompanying everything happening before her, Morgan's brain began to ache again, a bone-chilling pain, as if someone were piercing her eye sockets and nasal bridge with a dinner knife, repeatedly striking the crown of her head, little by little crushing her skull.

She could even hear the grating friction circling in her ears. She could clearly feel that as the fissure before her expanded, her pain also began to spread from her forehead throughout her entire body, tormenting her flesh and spirit. Violent power, accompanied by merciless strikes, made Morgan involuntarily fall to her knees.

The Primarch had completely understood: this starry sky and this pure black earth were none other than her mind, her mental world.

And now, it had been reduced to a battleground for certain more terrifying entities, already riddled with holes. The profound powers of azure and deep purple naturally held malice, but that seemingly glorious greatsword had certainly not come merely to protect her.

The appearance of the great fissure did not halt the ongoing struggle. The blue and purple tendrils soon returned, clashing with the golden greatsword, while simultaneously fighting amongst themselves.

This competition, accompanied by the constant machinations and mutual sabotage of the three factions, gradually became meaningless. Finally, the situation stabilized. The golden, blue, and purple powers each took root in a separate area, almost completely partitioning Morgan's mind.

They each settled, leaving only Morgan standing before this great fissure, curled up, feeling the heartfelt pain. The wills of gods and her creator had transformed into indelible steel nails, driven deep into her mind.

——————

[Look.]

[What a ruthless and magnificent spectacle.]

[The weak are meant to be butchered. Don't worry, you will adapt to all of this.]

[Your frenzy is so powerless; your pain is the eternal treasure.]

[Now, go look at that sharp blade. That is the gift from your creator. That is also the best proof of plunder and defense. He defends his prey like a beast, so that he can devour... you, alone!]

——————

The voice fell silent again, as if it possessed endless patience, awaiting the listener's reply. Thus, for an unknown duration, the nearly eternal agony finally receded slightly. Morgan looked up, only to see a small shower of snowflakes slowly falling.

She quickly realized they were not snowflakes, but white specters, thrashing and clawing: these were the countless souls she had consumed before.

They drifted down, falling into the Great Fissure, like true snowflakes, quickly melting into the muddy ground. But as more and more souls drifted down, some eventually accumulated, bringing an insignificant touch of pure white to the massive fissure.

And with the appearance of this pure white, the pain in Morgan's brain began to diminish minimally. She was able to draw a shred of energy to observe the arrival of the last batch of souls: these were the three most powerful Xenos she had consumed.

Sure enough, with the appearance of those souls, a cooling sensation began. She watched the three fragments of souls slowly drift to the bottom of the fissure. The pure white they accumulated was even greater than all the previous ones combined.

Morgan stood up, letting out a long breath. Everything was clear now. Although she still couldn't recall her past, still couldn't discern who had caused all this, she now knew her predicament.

Three powerful wills, currently beyond her ability to resist, had partitioned her mental kingdom. They might be her creators, or malicious others—but whatever they were, she could not resist them for now. Fortunately, they were equally hostile to each other.

But more important than these, for now, was to deal with the great fissure before her. This massive wound was continuously expanding, tearing outwards or downwards at Morgan's domain of will every moment, using pain to interrupt her thoughts and progress.

Pain...

——————

[Yes, pain.]

[It is the most universal language in the cosmos, the simplest truth, the grandest endeavor, the most intimate companion.]

[It is also the curse you cannot escape.]

[Look at yourself, pathetic little one, do you know your destiny?]

[Your great creator, your cold-blooded gene-father, the gift he bestowed upon you amazes even me.]

[That golden blade stands there. It is the symbol of his power and dominion, and also the means of tyranny and control. Let me tell you, little one.]

[Do you know the Butcher's Nails? The essence of ten millennia of your race's civilization.]

[The place where that golden blade destroys, where it stands, will be no gentler than the Butcher's Nails. While it won't turn you into a brute of brass, it will drive your destiny with pain and tyranny.]

[Because in his eyes, you, the failure, deserve nothing less.]

——————

"Morgan... failure..." The voice from her memory reappeared, accompanied by this merciless conclusion. The golden sword in the distance slowly vibrated, as if acknowledging it all.

Twisted voices echoed around her, but Morgan's mind, under the torment of pain, had fallen into deep self-preservation. She registered the voices, yet only thought of her own predicament. That pain, it had to be solved, with priority. She needed souls, the souls of those [Xenos], or perhaps those pure black souls... But it wasn't enough.

Morgan clutched her forehead in distress. The gradually dissipating throbbing pain brought her thoughts into sharper focus. Still not enough, far from enough.

This massive fissure was like a chasm, stretching from her feet to the end of her sight, perhaps thousands of meters wide.

If she were to rely solely on those scattered snowflakes to fill it, she would probably have to devour countless worlds, kingdoms, and civilizations to achieve it. She needed a method, a more efficient method.

——————

[Yes, efficiency.]

[Efficiency is the crystallization of the galaxy; it is the primal impetus for all civilization and destruction.]

——————

The voice reappeared. With it, the pale blue star streaked across the horizon and plummeted before her eyes.

——————

[You were born a failure.]

[But the hatred of the vanquished is the sweetest.]

[No... wait, no, what am I saying? You don't even know what hatred is.]

[You possess the freedom of anxiety and irritation, but you have no true emotions. Whether it is your joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, or your grudges and affections, they have all been completely taken away and utterly suppressed by your creator.]

[He spared no effort to make you as useful to him as possible, to deviate as much as possible from the true path.]

[Contemptible fellow.]

[No wonder I admire him.]

——————

Morgan narrowed her eyes. Although she couldn't comprehend the joys and sorrows, grudges and affections mentioned by this voice, when she heard the words "deprivation" and "suppression," her gaze instinctively shifted towards the giant sword.

This voice was right. Her innate knowledge told her what emotions and feelings were, but she... couldn't understand them. These so-called emotions were like a clear-cut forest in her heart; they existed, but when the outside breeze swept through, only the remaining grass rustled powerlessly, stirring no waves.

——————

[No need to worry, little one. That fellow, indulged in pleasure and idleness, is also watching you. He will help you solve all this. He will give you a gift, making you a cunning mirror, reflecting others' thoughts and secrets in your mind, capturing their hearts with words and actions, usurping their souls.]

[Those truly powerful and precious souls, they belong to your kin and brothers. They will completely resolve the fissure in your heart, and even further, make you a true, complete person.]

[Break free from pain, break free from servitude, break free from everything you were born to bear. Gain new life.]

[And, freedom.]

[The most precious freedom.]

——————

"..." Morgan remained silent. She did not believe the sharp words of this unknown entity, not a single word. Yet she had to concede one point: its ideas and suggestions were tempting. A person, a true, complete person. And... freedom. This thought, once it appeared, seized her mind like some potent magic.

And with this magic came the most unrestrained laughter. This laughter was unlike the distant laughter she had heard before; it was close, frenzied, and chaotic.

——————

[Yes, yes!]

[Go, deceive, plunder, follow the guidance of your instincts. Twist the fate of failure. Turn your pain into sharp arrows, and shoot them at the one who caused you such suffering.]

[Trample the trust of the arrogant.]

[Adorn the piety of the kneeling.]

[Seize the kindness of the ignorant.]

[Ignite the fury of the betrayer.]

[Let war erupt! Let the galaxy burn!]

[Let all of his be turned to ash.]

[I await your performance.]

——————

Amidst a long string of cackles, the sky-shattering voice finally vanished. The pale blue star, accompanying its departure, emitted a blinding light. When this light dissipated, Morgan had awakened.

Outside the chamber, the rain still poured. The figures of thunder and lightning leaped across the distant sky, appearing and disappearing.

Morgan looked at the heavy rain outside the window. She suddenly noticed that the chamber had become somewhat small: undoubtedly, she was growing, and very rapidly. The reflections of raindrops and dark clouds appeared on her face.

Amidst these layers of reflections, Morgan began to contemplate her tomorrow and her future: what she would do, what she would learn and practice, how she would grow as much as possible, absorbing... in order to leave this place. The lingering echo of the voice still reverberated in her mind, but she paid it little heed.

Morgan watched the pouring rain outside the window, the Primarch's cerulean pupils seemingly colder than the savage world's sky.

She didn't care if she had to deceive and plunder, trample and burn, or turn some world to ash, like the scene before her eyes. But no matter what she had to do to end her fate, to change her collapsing mental world, to escape this desperate dead end, she would accept it.