Chapter 293: A Resolute Choice (Patreon)

“So… you wish to become whole again?” Qin Mo looked at the Burning One in puzzlement, though he more or less grasped the C’tan shard’s intention.

Two fragments of the Burning One were currently imprisoned within a section of the Webway, a region warped by age and neglect, clearly trapped there by the larger fragment now standing before him.

Though the Star Gods were beings fundamentally insulated from the Warp, some among them could still manipulate the Old Ones’ Webway constructs.

The Burning One was one such entity.

No one truly knew how it achieved this, but it simply could.

Perhaps it was inevitable that the C’tan, as a species born of the raw physics of the early universe, had always been intertwined with hyper-advanced technologies. Even the volatile ones like this pyromaniacal, flame-hungry being still possessed frightening mastery over science.

But even such a shard could not re-merge the pieces shattered long ago by the Necrontyr during the War in Heaven. All it could do was contain the two shards it had located, locking them away inside the Webway.

“You should be able to do it.” The Burning One drifted slowly toward Qin Mo. “Among all our kind, none rely on tools more than you. I do not care what your essence has become, but you should be capable. Capable… isn’t that right?”

The Burning One was incomplete, and its mind was fractured, unstable like Shapeshifter and the Nightbringer’s shards. It believed the Forger could help it, yet doubted that possibility in the same breath. Two contradictory emotions lived in every sentence it uttered.

Or perhaps it simply had no confidence left, grasping at straws, hoping for a miracle…

“Don’t listen to it!” Shapeshifter darted behind Qin Mo, voice sharp with fear. “The Burning One is the most violent among all our kind! If you make it whole, the first thing it will do afterward is devour you!”

At those words, the Burning One froze, staring at Shapeshifter in stunned silence.

Qin Mo also did not lower his guard. From Shapeshifter’s earlier stories about the Star Gods, the two most savage and merciless C’tan were the Nightbringer and the Burning One.

The Nightbringer, Azagorod. The Burning One, Nyadra’zatha. And the Void Dragon, Mag’ladroth.

These three were the Triarch of the ancient C’tan powers: the most powerful of their entire pantheon, the three greatest star gods of the War in Heaven.

Of the three, two had left Shapeshifter with terrible memories. Only the Void Dragon, Mag’ladroth, was “relatively kinder” to weaker C’tan.

And even that “kindness” merely meant complete indifference; it did not bother to torment weaker shards because they were useless to it. At least it did not behave as cruelly as the Nightbringer or the Burning One.

“What nonsense are you sputtering?” the Burning One demanded of Shapeshifter. “When Azagorod sought to devour you all, who was it that helped you hide within the Webway?”

Qin Mo glanced toward Shapeshifter.

Yet Shapeshifter remained fiercely distrustful of the Burning One. Its form wavered, shifting through shapes as if anxiety made it unstable.

The Burning One pressed on, “And when Mag’ladroth, that insufferable wretch, wanted to hurl you into the Warp for its experiments, who was it that sealed you away in the Webway to save you from annihilation?”

Hearing this, Qin Mo slowly turned back to stare at Shapeshifter.

Another perspective. Another version of ancient C’tan history entirely.

An incomplete Star God’s mind was unstable and its memories fragmentary. Self-contradiction was to be expected.

But Shapeshifter’s stories, too, were riddled with inconsistencies.

And without proof, neither could be taken at face value, unless a complete C’tan were present to verify it.

The Burning One studied Qin Mo. “Tell me, between Shapeshifter and myself, which one of us is more complete?”

Qin Mo thought for a moment. Given the power and relatively coherent mind the Burning One displayed, the answer was obvious.

“How often is it sane?” the Burning One continued calmly. “And how often does it fall into hallucination and lies?”

The words struck Shapeshifter hard, so hard it began doubting itself.

It knew its own instability. When a more complete shard recited ancient events in vivid detail… it was difficult for it not to doubt itself.

Qin Mo exhaled slowly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said to the Burning One. “Those ancient quarrels mean nothing now. Most of the C’tan are shattered. Whether you or the Void Dragon were more ‘friendly’ is irrelevant. Whichever of you I encounter next, I don’t need to run anymore.”

“Of course.” The Burning One seemed to calm, not eager to argue any further.

After drifting aimlessly for tens of millennia following its escape, it had already realized that the age had changed. Past grudges might hold academic interest, but they were meaningless in this new era.

And Qin Mo sensed something else, even if the Burning One might be wrong about certain things, Shapeshifter, the Forger, and the weaker C’tan clearly held no deep hatred toward it. Otherwise, it would never have willingly delivered itself into the presence of a fully empowered Star God with a grudge against it.

“You must help me. We are fighting a war that has lasted tens of millions of years.” The Burning One’s voice dropped into a low rumble.

“A war of tens of millions of years? What do you mean?” Qin Mo asked.

“The war between the Star Gods and their servant races, against the Old Ones and the psychic abominations they created.” The Burning One spoke with solemnity. “We should have exterminated the Old Ones and every psychic species they seeded. We should have let the Void Dragon isolate the Warp’s influence from realspace using its supreme Blackstone technologies. But because of the betrayal of those pitiable, short-lived slaves… we failed.

The squabbles of mortal species, the traitor-races now stirring in their tombs, those filthy bio-engineered abominations, they fight over trivial interests. Their wars are not what determine the fate of the galaxy. All of them are but mere aftershocks of the War in Heaven.

Had those wretched short-lived creatures not betrayed us, we would have triumphed. There would be no rifts where the Warp tears into the galaxy.”

“…”

Listening silently, Qin Mo realized every faction in the galaxy had its own story, its own version of cause and blame, for why things were the way they were.

The Burning One believed the War in Heaven was unfinished, that it must be continued until every psychic species was extinguished and the Warp sealed away forever.

But among the C’tan, even this perspective was not universal.

Shapeshifter’s view, for example, held that the current wars were irrelevant: what mattered was the death of the Old Triarch and the rise of new C’tan powers. The War in Heaven had merely been the prologue to a C’tan civil war spanning millions of years.

All these perspectives were subjective, but each offered a window into C’tan logic.

After a moment of thought, Qin Mo voiced his one concern, “C’tan are too uncontrollable. I can help you become whole, but I cannot guarantee you won’t just… burn an entire populated world because you feel like it.”

“I have already made my choice by coming to you.” The Burning One extended a hand.

A sphere of bright flame flickered in its palm.

The flame had no heat. Almost immaterial, yet overflowing with terrifying energy.

The cold, living flame drifted slowly toward Qin Mo.

The Burning One offered no explanation. It didn’t need to. Qin Mo sensed its nature the moment he beheld it.

The cold, dancing flame was a portion of the Burning One’s essence, its true nature. It could be absorbed, used, reshaped into any form he wished. Its existence would not harm the Burning One so long as it remained intact.

But if that essence were destroyed… the Burning One would suffer catastrophic, irreversible damage, scars that not even the universe could heal. Reality itself would be affected.

Qin Mo sensed even the consequences of its destruction.

If that shard of essence were annihilated, the universe would lose the concept of increasing heat. Stars and fires would still shine, but they would never grow hotter again.