Chapter 501: Back Then I Was Only Eighteen, Standing Beside Them Like a Nobody

The instant the Aeldari dark gods saw Slaanesh, most of them fell into a momentary trance.

Before they could break free from the god's allure, Slaanesh's soft, lilting laugh washed over the hall.

For the weaker deities, that laugh was the last thing they ever heard.

Their bodies burst instantly into clouds of shimmering blood-mist, which gathered into dozens of strawberry-shaped crimson meat-spheres that floated obediently into Slaanesh's waiting hand.

Slaanesh picked one up between slender, pale fingers, placed it delicately between divine lips, and chewed. A hum of pleasure slipped out—soft, languid, satisfied. Thin streaks of scarlet god-blood trailed down the corners of Slaanesh's mouth.

The deity extended a blood-stained tongue, licked the traces clean, and smiled joyfully.

"Exquisite."

A tremor ran through every surviving god in the pantheon.

Their reigning god-king could bear it no longer. His voice boomed out:

"Attack together!"

He acted immediately.

Reality twisted around Slaanesh as the god-king unleashed his power—atoms, forces, and laws of nature themselves were overwritten. He attempted to erase Slaanesh at the fundamental level.

Slaanesh didn't bother to dodge. A casual wave of the hand dispersed the attack.

In the next instant, the god-king's body punched through the wall of the pantheon and vanished into the distance at faster-than-light speed.

Moments later, he came hurtling back even faster.

CRACK.

The sound was like a sack of rotten meat smashing against stone, yet the force behind it gouged a crater into the supposedly indestructible pantheon floor.

More than ninety percent of the god-king's bones shattered on impact. He collapsed, unable to move.

Seeing this, many of the other dark gods—whose loyalty to one another was always paper-thin—began to falter and edge toward retreat.

But Slaanesh had no intention of letting dinner escape.

With a casual snap of the fingers, an irresistible force locked every god in place. Each froze mid-motion like an insect trapped in amber.

Satisfied, Slaanesh nodded.

"Now then… it's feeding time."

Slaanesh plucked the broken god-king from the crater. A flick of the fingers tore away the deity's skull, exposing the glistening, pulsating brain beneath.

After inhaling its scent with relaxed delight, Slaanesh began to feast.

The god's screams, rather than unpleasant, were like a symphony—fine music to accompany a divine meal. Slaanesh even adjusted the tones and rhythms of the screams by eating different regions of the god's brain, playing him like an instrument.

Thanks to the divine vitality in his body, the god-king's brain regenerated endlessly, like an automatic refill of soft-serve ice cream. Slaanesh ate leisurely for quite some time.

And even after the entire brain was consumed, the god-king remained alive—until Slaanesh finally savored the soul itself.

Only then did the deity truly die.

Slaanesh dropped the empty corpse and scanned the remaining Aeldari gods, who stared back in terror.

It was like watching a predator choose the next course at a lavish banquet.

Slaanesh paused only to consider the order of consumption—occasionally teasing the trembling gods for amusement—when, suddenly, space-time shifted.

The god's smile froze.

From the air appeared a hand marked with deathblossom sigils—a hand belonging unmistakably to Orsaga.

Like an eagle grabbing chicks, it plucked away the Aeldari gods of torment and pain.

Then came a taloned bird-like foot—Tzeentch—snatching the gods of schemes, knowledge, and secrets.

Next, a thick red claw—Khorne—seized the gods of strife and rebellion.

Finally, a swollen green hand—Nurgle—took the gods of plague and rot.

"—!!"

Watching the other four Chaos Gods picking through what Slaanesh considered their buffet, selecting the choicest pieces, the newly awakened deity felt an emotion rarely experienced:

Utter, visceral humiliation.

Slaanesh clenched both fists but dared not protest.

A one-on-one challenge? Slaanesh might scrape the bottom of the rankings.

One against four?

That would be a tragedy.

And so, like an eighteen-year-old student watching seasoned professors steal all the credit, Slaanesh could only swallow the indignity and resolve silently:

'I will repay this. Every slight. Every insult. One by one.

But for now?

If the multiverse slanders me, deceives me, humiliates me, mocks me, despises me, hates me, betrays me—

How should I respond?

Endure. Allow. Avoid. Be patient. Respect. Ignore.

Give it time.

Years from now, they will learn.'

Slaanesh comforted themself with these words and chose—for the moment—to endure.

Only after the four Chaos Gods departed did Slaanesh turn back to the pantheon, now missing nearly half its deities.

The smile that spread across Slaanesh's lips was terrible.

Every surviving god trembled.

Over the next several days, the pantheon echoed with horrors better left undescribed—acts equal parts nightmare and grotesque indulgence.

Even by the standards of Chaos, it was a spectacle of despair.

When Slaanesh finally departed, the pantheon—already a den of darkness—resembled something far worse.

____

After finishing with the dark gods, Slaanesh immediately turned attention to the Aeldari's true gods.

Several were missing.

Isha, goddess of life.

Khaine, god of war.

Others as well.

Not even Slaanesh could sense their traces.

It didn't take a genius to understand what had happened—the other four had taken them.

Irritated, Slaanesh sought out the god-king of the Aeldari pantheon: Asuryan.

As Slaanesh approached, Asuryan—who had glimpsed fragments of the future—looked sorrowfully at the wife beside him. Then he turned to Cegorach, the Laughing God, and said solemnly:

"You must go. We will face what comes. You will safeguard what remains of our people."

...

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