The Power Of Ten: Sama Rantha 483 Far Future Ch. 193 – Sing Of A Legend Rising

Your roars and anger give no heed,

Chaos calms and burns away,

Warp begone, its final day,

A whispered sigh.

Souls in torment, now be released,

Demon's raving now is ceased,

Life is come to drink and feast,

Death is now the one made least.

The end is nigh.

Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, she comes...

Drink from Chalice, oh, drink deep,

Behold Paten, before you sleep;

Raise the Host, and sup you well,

Afore Life Itself dines on h.e.l.l,

Waiting, waiting so long...

Wail and scream against Faith's own s.h.i.+eld,

Your time is done, your fate is sealed.

Cast you down, burn you high,

Paint the ground, sear the sky,

Coming, coming so strong...

Tremble, oh ooooo Tremble, she comes...

The Wheel turns, and now it grinds

Demons to dust in endless lines,

Your turn to end, demons to reap,

No one to mourn, no tears to weep,

Feed, oh demons, Feed the Land.

Its hunger old, and now it wakes,

Wails of madness its hunger slakes.

Protest and scream, the Land cares not,

Your race is run, your battle fought,

Fight, oh demons, your last stand.

Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...

Feel you now, feel that thirst?

Prepared you are for utter worst?

The Land, it rises, and mortal souls,

Fires fan embers, and vengeance rolls,

Turns the wheels on burning steel.

Life now rises, feel its rage,

Feel the turning of the age,

Serene calm, beyond all death,

Beyond the pall where doom draws breath,

Rail and stagger, and demons kneel.

Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, we come...

Feel that light from mortals arise,

Feel that might where defiance flies,

Against the destiny you have wrought,

Against the d.a.m.nation you have sought,

Cracked and shattered far asunder.

Your cheap power, let it burn,

New light rises, now in turn,

A future waits where the Warp is naught

A figment, a dream, its battles fought,

Broken and buried deep down under...

Tremble, oh ooooo oh Tremble, we come...

-----

"Concentrate all firepower around the path she's building with the vivic flame! Burn the demons and feed them to the fire she's making!" barked his Sergeant, her voice cracking like a whip through the ringing, droning song every man was humming along to.

Fingers leapt to triggers, hard light shot down, scattered demons near the vivic flames fell, tainted ichor sprayed, and caught the edge of unwhite fires, and began to spread... and spread... and spread, as the circles of fire were expanded again, and again, and again.

Even the main guns got in on the trick, laying down a barrage in rows that crossed the white line that was advancing at murderous speed towards the towering figure of a six-armed Spiral Dancer who had been avoiding their shots with foresighted ease. Streams of four-armed lesser Dancers were trying to head for the line of vivus chewing through deadly demonic soldiers like chaff, and when the bombardment of the guns crossed ahead of that line of vivus, pulses of light reached out, and flying demon corpses that had not even hit the ground blew apart... and that entire barrage zone became a wall of unwhite fire, catching hundreds of screaming demons within it and burning them as no natural fire could while they screamed.

Thunder of guns, feed on the weak,

Breath of the Land, the end you seek.

Doom! Doom! It all ends here!

Death! Death! The Final Fear!

Life hungers, and you are the meal!

Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, we come!

------

"I don't care what the f.u.c.k you have to do, I want anything and everything that can give me that vivic fire! Do you see what the f.u.c.k it is doing to those demons? They are burning, you G.o.dd.a.m.n blockhead! LOOK AT THEM! DEMONS ARE BURNING!"

------

"No, I don't know who she is! She just killed a Spiral Dancer before all our eyes, and she's on her way to kill a Ma.s.sacre Demon right there! The whole d.a.m.n demon army is reeling because of her and that song! I don't care who she is, she's saving our a.s.s!

"Now SHOOT! Shoot around that trail of fire she's leaving, and feed the demons to it! Make them BURN!"

------

Archpraetor Vohler, self-stylized the Avatar of the Abyss, had burned sixteen worlds in his lifetime, a period of time spanning centuries. The tendrils of the cults he had founded extended into hundreds of worlds throughout the Empire. He did not care which of the Warp G.o.ds he served as he triggered insurrections, uprisings, and rebellions; destabilized nations, worlds, and whole systems; setting siblings against one another, children against parents, zealot patriots against fanatic and deranged idealists.

On some worlds, it was the soft, silken seduction of Amourae, infecting the upper cla.s.ses and rotting them with decadence and ever-greater, ever-unfulfilled desire for experiences. On others, it was rampant compet.i.tion and planning, ruthless clawing for power that buried the weak and the strong alike in endless compet.i.tion for the few remaining sc.r.a.ps of authority. Sometimes it was fueling martial ambition by the strong and violent, and prodding them to seize power over mountains of bodies and whatever purpose they cared to use to justify the experience. Sometimes it was taking the dull ma.s.ses, lighting their rage with caste differences and discontent with their lot in life, and bringing the mighty down in an anger that, once ignited, did not let up until whole worlds burned.

He had been blessed with great power by the Warp G.o.ds for his service, Warp sorceries that could easily contend with the mightiest mentalists of the Empire.

A wall of reality-shredding energy howled desperately out from him as the blur of motion spitting death in every direction turned towards him, registering his once-human appearance among the possessed, mutated, and Warped bodies of his servants and acolytes.

Everything in the way of his power was torn apart as reality roiled, stretched them in impossible ways, reverted to normal, roiled again, and blew them apart in all directions. Ground and sky seemed to change places, reality screamed with the power channeling through it-

A golden blade scythed it right down the middle, and the Archpraetor convulsed as something broke in his mind, feedback flooding back into him and his whole mind rocking as the spell was shattered, riven aside like a cobweb. Glowing blood spurted out his nose, eyes, and mouth, and he watched as streams of light pulsed around him, spikes and force bolts reaching out with impossible accuracy.

The demons and elite cyberdemonized bodyguards around him writhed and fell as the fusillade swept through them, the three strongest of them eating scything flame-shrouded golden Shards and exploding in violent, hungry white light.

There was a blur of motion, and the force field of his personal hover-chariot shrieked and was rent through so fast he wondered if it was there at all, feedback blowing back through it explosively and blowing out the gravimetrics and s.h.i.+eld.

Before it could fall, he saw a glimpse of a face with no eyes, only a Mask of black and white Tattoos, and then it was past, and he was falling, falling...

Killed in pa.s.sing, just another d.a.m.ned soul of no importance, there to burn... and if he imagined he heard something, it wasn't the laughter of his mad G.o.ds watching as he fell; it was looming, hungry silence, clad in unwhite robes, and it was reaching for him...