this crossover should not exist
Title: Never Enough
Author/Artist: purplekitten
Fandom: Warhammer 40k/Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica
Rating: PG-13
Pairing or Character(s): Kyubey, Magnus, Mortarion, Lorgar, Angron, Perturabo, Fulgrim, Curze, Horus, the Emperor of Mankind
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, I swear, I would have noticed.
Warnings: character death, canon, canon-typical everything, mention of cannibalism
Author's Note: If I could draw, this fic would not exist and I could have gotten this fanart out of my system the way it was intended. Since I cannot, I will have to attempt to convey the beautiful images in my head with mere words. The story of my life. (Oh Fulgrim, I feel for you.)
‘You want to save your sons so much? They make a contract with me and become a puellus magus.’
The voice came from somewhere behind Magnus, high-pitched and childish. He hadn’t sensed anyone or anything approaching. He still couldn’t sense anything, no emotions, no soul marring the flow of the Great Ocean. He could spin around, but that would mean admitting he had been startled. He could make out its form from its shadow on the far wall without turning. A fox-like creature no larger than his spread fingers.
‘What are you?’
‘I can grant your wish. No one else has to die here.’
So many had died. Before he’d ever met them, deep beneath the pyramids of Tizca. Died screaming as their flesh betrayed them, as they were devoured from within, body and mind.
How many of his own sons had he been forced to kill, to put down like rabid dogs? Each failure, where he should have been able to save them, but could not. He could remember each mind against his, the gratitude they felt when he whispered, Sleep now, my son and took the pain away, snuffed their lives out like candle-flickers.
The fox creature moved and nosed at the Astartes he had been standing over before it had called out to him, twin brothers lying on the same slab of stone in their sickness. Ahzek was still writhing in pain as his skin melted like wax, revealing spurs of bone or lidless eyes or scales with each movement. Ohrmuzd was not.
‘You said a contract. That implies you want something in return.’
‘Weren’t you just saying you would give anything? Didn’t you mean it? Do you not want your wish that much?’
‘There’s no sacrifice I wouldn’t make! Anything! Heal them of the flesh-change. Right now!’
‘Granted.’
It came back? You just asked for it to be healed right then. You humans, getting so emotional when you’re the ones who didn’t think things through. How strange.
Wrecking the Webway? Wasn’t it your father who suggested you shouldn’t interrupt him on Terra? I merely pointed out that your soul resides in your soul gem now, not your body, after you asked. If you were acting with incomplete information and could not have known, then why are you feeling this emotion of guilt? Oh well.
Be a good witch now. The Wolves are almost here.
*
Each breath was agony in his lungs. Mortarion had already lost feeling in the rest of his flesh, but he could feel the burn along the roof of his mouth, down his throat, expanding as his lungs expanded, then the almost comforting echo of the initial pain as he breathed out.
Was this it then? No matter how hard he tried, no much he struggled, he could not move another step forward. He could hear the sizzle as the acid in the wet mud under him ate into the right side of his face from his forehead, across the ridges of his brow, down his cheekbone, and along his chin. Maybe it would eat all of him until nothing was left. He could not bring his body to move enough to flinch away.
He had done everything he could. He had turned his back on all he had once been because he had seen it was wrong. He had taught the people of the valleys how to fight. He had climbed all the peaks but this one. He had never given up.
He still had not given up. Move. Move. Why wouldn’t his limbs carry him further? His determination had to be worth something. The light of his soul burned brightly. His spirit was willing; his flesh could not be so weak to fail him.
Did the very laws of nature stand against him? How dare they. What good was his determination if it wasn’t enough for him to go beyond his limits, beyond all limits of reality? Was he simply not good enough?
Was this how the people of Barbarus had felt before he came among them? But he had proved them wrong. Why couldn’t he do the same for himself?
‘Do you have a wish? I can grant it for you if you’ll become a puellus magus that fights evil.’
He instinctively drew a deeper breath to answer... then he couldn’t scream, but he wanted very much to.
It’s alright. You can speak to me directly with your mind.
You can hear me?
Sure. You’d better hurry, though. You don’t have long if you still want to be a hero of justice. You won’t last long like this.
Not long at all. He could see the shadow of the Overlord through the mists. A hero of justice? He thought a laugh. I wonder what the Death Guard will say to that.
So you’ll do it? What’s your wish?
I want to be able to keep moving forward, no matter how much my body may betray me.
Done.
The small creature he had half-glimpsed through the fog was gone. The Overlord was right there before him. So was the stranger.
Will you die of this? Of course not! Don’t give up hope, Mortarion! You can keep going through anything.
Will the pain stop? It doesn’t look like your species has the technology to cure the Destroyer Plague. I guess not.
But don’t worry, no matter how much it hurts, it will never quite kill you.
*
Dust and ashes. They fell from the sky, made patterns on the hot breeze, and piled among the ruins.
Lorgar fought to stand. He had fought on high-gravity worlds and against strange xeno sorceries before. He could not.
He should not want to fight, guilt said in counterpoint to rage and humiliation. A good son, a good worshipper, should accept his rebuke as deserved and seek only to better himself in the eyes of his father, his god.
He could not. He could not reconcile any of these words or actions with things he had believed his whole life, with his entire soul.
They were innocent! If they were wrong in Your eyes, it was only because we forced them to be so after we conquered them. The guilt is mine and mine alone! Punish me, not others. How could You destroy so many lives just as a message to me?
Then there was nothing, no Presence, no pressure upon him. Lorgar hardly noticed.
I only wanted the truth. I only wanted others to see the truth. Was that so wrong?
There was a creature now where He had been. A cat or a fox maybe. The ash fell away from its pristine white fur.
In the hour of your need, as you cry out to the heavens, you are heard. Do you have a wish? If you agree to fight evil as a puellus magus, I can grant you a miracle.
A miracle. We have fought for a lie, then. We have died for a lie. We have killed for a lie. These people, our people, died faithful, died unknowing. They called out for vengeance to me. To their slaughterer. I don’t know how to give them it. I need a miracle for them to have justice. Let their lives have had meaning.
That’s what your wish is? Okay.
Of course they mattered. Would you have ever done this without that push? Trillions have died for the sake of a few billion. You humans, we Incubators will never understand you. You can’t prioritise at all.
But we should thank you. It would have been too stable otherwise and that doesn’t produce good wishes. Only when they suffer do humans have such magnificent wishes that they want more than life itself. We’ll be able to hold back entropy for another ten thousand years thanks to all the wishes and witches your religious schism has produced already.
*
Angron ground his teeth. So consumed was he by the anger that it was hard to remember distractions like breathing.
They were coming closer. Good. Soon he would have their blood coating his hands.
No, it was bad. They would all die.
So? That had always been their fate. Any high-rider they could take down with them made it worth it.
He need to kill. He wanted something else... What had it been again?
They were here. No more distractions.
Do you have a wish you want more than your human life? You’ll never be able to stop fighting after that, as a puellus magus, but I can give you a wish in exchange. One miracle.
What was his life worth? Nothing. What else would he be doing but fighting? Unthinkable.
He couldn’t think.
Didn’t need to. Knew what he wanted more than anything at that moment, anticipating the crack of their bodies under his hands, the smell of their blood and bowels.
I want to kill all of them. All them that want us to fight for their enjoyment.
Five minutes later, Angron wished for his brothers and sisters to not be dead.
*
‘Why now? Why are you offering me this now? There is a siege on, but that was true last week and will be true next week. Not much longer than, I estimate. I would not waste a wish on that. Besides, there will be another one after that.’
‘Your wish can be anything you want, Perturabo. It’s an unlimited miracle.’
‘I have never heard of a miracle born from ennui. I am not desperate. Heroics are single moments of greatness utterly removed from the day-to-day grind that is life. It’s easy to wish once and die a hero. Living everyday is much harder but less glorious.’
‘You can be a hero too. A hero of justice.’
‘Did you not hear me, creature? That is the easy way out. Glory is selfishness. A true hero lives everyday to the fullest and does that which is needed day after day no matter how mundane. No miracle can make that easier. That is worth. From the greatest to the smallest, all may serve the future of humanity.’
‘You’re not happy though.’
Perturabo sighed. ‘I hardly desire to force the Emperor, beloved of all, to give my Legion assignments that might make us happier when we are where we can do the most good towards his designs. My brothers’ respect I will earn by my own deeds.’
‘It doesn’t have to be any of those things. What do you really want your life to amount to?’
‘That’s a thought. This then: I wish to be remembered for the things I built.’
Don’t worry, the Imperium will always remember your Eternal Fortress.
Is this what you meant your legacy to be? An empty shell now filled with the bodies of your brothers? I don’t know. You were the one that built it.
*
‘Have you decided yet, Fulgrim?’
‘These things cannot be rushed. My wish needs to be perfect. That said, I have chosen one, Kyubey.’
‘That’s wonderful. What will your contract with me be for?’
‘I want to be a perfect puellus magus.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be great at that, Fulgrim!’
‘He’s dead. I killed him. He was always a loyal brother to me. It was my fault all along. Ferrus never was never jealous of me, was he?’
‘I never sensed such emotions from him. The only emotional signatures I was able to catalogue were those in keeping with the human disease called friendship and those you call love and respect and protectiveness and loyalty and... Fulgrim? Fulgrim? You’re ready then? You’re emotions produced so much magical energy for the universe already, and just think, you’ll be able to help our quota even more. It would be a waste if you ended it now. The next step in a puellus magus’ lifecycle is to become a witch. It wouldn’t be perfect to leave things incomplete.’
*
‘Are you awake now? I detected a shift in your brainwaves.’
‘Water,’ croaked the spindly young man who would one day be Konrad Curze.
‘Right here.’ Kyubey nosed the bucket towards him.
He stuck his face in it first, then drank some. It tasted of dirt and blood after that, but a hand across his cheek confirmed that the deep scratches across his face had already closed up. A few coarse scabs made lines down from his eyes like he’d been crying.
‘What did you see this time?’
‘Can’t you tell?’
‘We have no idea how your power works either. When we Incubators speak of the future, we are extrapolating from existing evidence and probability models. If we could produce magic like you humans, we wouldn’t need you.’
‘Hm.’
‘So?’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Did you see where someone was going to jump off a building? I don’t sense any witches nearby.’
‘When have they ever been necessary?’ He started to walk. ‘I have something different in mind.’
Kyubey jumped from a refuse pile onto his head. ‘Based on past data correlated with your tone of voice, you are unlikely to mean eating this body again.’
‘You have more.’
‘Certainly, but it is inefficient to waste energy that could be going towards fighting entropy when there are humans that would be left to rot.’
He brought them to an empty shop. Kyubey jumped through a broken skylight while he ripped through the wall behind the alarm system to pull out wires before breaking the lock on the backdoor. Kyubey’s eyes would normally had glowed red in the dark, but it turned them off to not annoy the Nostraman.
‘You saw a bakery in the future?’
‘I saw that the baker is going to be murdered for his chrono in three minutes in a nicer part of town far from here. He used to leave the bread that was too burnt to sell or had gone stale next to the dumpster. His daughter won’t come to the shop for another week, then she’ll throw everything out. As you say, it would be a waste to let everything go bad.’
He opened one of the display cases delicately rather than breaking the glass, though he sat on the floor and ate with his hands instead of using any of the chairs or forks around. He fed Kyubey from his hand too.
As Kyubey devoured the cake he held out to it in bites almost as large as its head, he licked the last of the sweetness from the back of his teeth and said evenly, ‘I’ve seen full well what you intend for me, Incubator.’
‘Does that mean you don’t want to make a contract with me? That would be too bad.’
‘I know I’m going to. I’ve already decided what I’m going to wish for. I don’t have to be see the future to know that I’m going to agree to a contract with you during one of my fits.’ Either kind of fits.
‘If you want it, shouldn’t you be happier about it? You should wish for something you want. You’ll be the one paying for it.’
‘I’m going to wish to kill evil until I’m the one everyone’s afraid of. I’m going to wish to be a monster. A monster is needed; I don’t need to enjoy it.’ (But he would.)
‘Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,’ Kyubey said, licking up the last of the frosting and blood clinging to his palm.
The halls of his flagship had always been dark, but now they danced with activity, black on black. The darkness was an object of fear because it was full of monsters. So it was.
Why aren’t the familiars attacking? the puella maga, the assassin, asked Kyubey silently.
The witch wants you all to himself.
Overconfident. The puella maga laughed to herself, though not aloud. She had wished for the ability to kill any witch. Against familiars she’d have had to work up a sweat.
The witch smiled at the puella maga, showing his sharp teeth, a spot of white in a shadowed and blood-stained face. ‘You can always find another one, can’t you, Kyubey?’
‘I only offer the contract. It’s their choice to take it. Fear of your Legion has given me many contracts. Thank you.’
M’Shen had never known a witch to speak. No matter. She’d have an interested audience for her story when she returned to Terra with his grief-seed.
‘Many puelli magi and many witches in turn. Do not try for my Legion or you Incubators will be half-disappointed. I am the last witch they will tolerate among them.’
‘What?’ M’Shen said aloud in confusion. Puelli magi fought witches. They didn’t attract them or anything, or hunting them down would be less time-consuming.
The smile broadened. So many teeth. ‘As you are, so I was. As I am, so shall you be.’
*
‘Was that really the future, Kyubey?’
‘It could be. The future can always change as long as you don’t lose hope!’
‘I won’t let it happen. I won’t let us be cast aside like a tool that’s no longer useful. Even if all that we believe in is a lie on a madman’s path to godhood, I’ll make it true, with my own hands. If puelli magi are made for fighting evil, then I’ll use this power for fighting back against this betrayal.’
‘If you say so, Horus. What is your wish then?’
‘I wish to never be a slave to my father’s designs again.’
Soul-gem in hand, Horus healed his body in a moment. It was nothing.
The witch barrier sprung up around both of them in the last moment. Horus’ soul-gem was so dark in the Emperor’s bright hand.
‘Father, I’m sorry.’
Darker and darker until the last bit of light clouded over. Darker and darker as the last ounce of hope turned to despair and horror at what he had done.
‘So am I.’
The Emperor closed his fist to crush the grief-seed to dust.
*
‘What do you want then?’ The Incubator swished its tail, only to have it bitten by one of the goats that the boy was watching.
The boy whacked the goat with his stick. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said to the goat before flopping on his back. ‘I don’t know. Is there really that much out there?’
‘Even more. The data transmission to tell you about all the universe would take too long. Maybe your species can see it too someday, once you’re done figuring out how to make sharper rocks.’
‘I’d like that. No, Mom and Dad said I can’t go too far when I have the goats. I’m responsible for them,’ the boy reminded himself proudly.
‘You are a juvenile of your species now, but you won’t always be. You can be anything you want if you wish for it. Even a god. No matter how impossible your dreams, they can come true.’
The boy thought about it. Mankind was always at the whims of the gods, the gods of sun and storm, of good harvest and of pestilence. A god might be happy or it might be angry, but that could not be trusted. Everything that a man had worked for could be crushed without thought or reason. The only things mankind could count on were themselves and each other.
‘I wish that nothing ever rule over mankind. Our fate is our own.’
Kyubey nosed the boy. ‘Alright. Even we Incubators shall be bound by that. You will be left to make your own mistakes. We will make contracts with you only as you chose. Make sure you never blame anyone else for the results of your choices, okay?’ It wrinkled its nose cutely. ‘I can’t wait until you join us among the stars. After all, your wishes will save the universe.’
Everyday, a thousand grief seeds, drawn from all corners of the galaxy, leeched the darkness from the Emperor's soul-gem as His mortal form suffered upon the Golden Throne.
At the end of everyday, it was just a little bit darker.
(a/n: I can’t think up a serious one for Alpharius that I like, so have this omake totally not keeping with the tone of this fic instead:
‘I wish for an unlimited number of wishes.’ ‘I wish that all my wishes will come about in the spirit I intend them without any fussing around about exact wording.’ ‘I wish no wishes of mine or anyone else lead me or anyone else into despair.’ ‘I wish to not fall into despair despite my wishes.’ ‘Now then, I wish for a cake.’ ‘And the internet.’ ‘And a family that isn’t totally screwed up.’ ‘And another cake.’ ‘And a pony.’)
Author/Artist: purplekitten
Fandom: Warhammer 40k/Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica
Rating: PG-13
Pairing or Character(s): Kyubey, Magnus, Mortarion, Lorgar, Angron, Perturabo, Fulgrim, Curze, Horus, the Emperor of Mankind
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, I swear, I would have noticed.
Warnings: character death, canon, canon-typical everything, mention of cannibalism
Author's Note: If I could draw, this fic would not exist and I could have gotten this fanart out of my system the way it was intended. Since I cannot, I will have to attempt to convey the beautiful images in my head with mere words. The story of my life. (Oh Fulgrim, I feel for you.)
‘You want to save your sons so much? They make a contract with me and become a puellus magus.’
The voice came from somewhere behind Magnus, high-pitched and childish. He hadn’t sensed anyone or anything approaching. He still couldn’t sense anything, no emotions, no soul marring the flow of the Great Ocean. He could spin around, but that would mean admitting he had been startled. He could make out its form from its shadow on the far wall without turning. A fox-like creature no larger than his spread fingers.
‘What are you?’
‘I can grant your wish. No one else has to die here.’
So many had died. Before he’d ever met them, deep beneath the pyramids of Tizca. Died screaming as their flesh betrayed them, as they were devoured from within, body and mind.
How many of his own sons had he been forced to kill, to put down like rabid dogs? Each failure, where he should have been able to save them, but could not. He could remember each mind against his, the gratitude they felt when he whispered, Sleep now, my son and took the pain away, snuffed their lives out like candle-flickers.
The fox creature moved and nosed at the Astartes he had been standing over before it had called out to him, twin brothers lying on the same slab of stone in their sickness. Ahzek was still writhing in pain as his skin melted like wax, revealing spurs of bone or lidless eyes or scales with each movement. Ohrmuzd was not.
‘You said a contract. That implies you want something in return.’
‘Weren’t you just saying you would give anything? Didn’t you mean it? Do you not want your wish that much?’
‘There’s no sacrifice I wouldn’t make! Anything! Heal them of the flesh-change. Right now!’
‘Granted.’
It came back? You just asked for it to be healed right then. You humans, getting so emotional when you’re the ones who didn’t think things through. How strange.
Wrecking the Webway? Wasn’t it your father who suggested you shouldn’t interrupt him on Terra? I merely pointed out that your soul resides in your soul gem now, not your body, after you asked. If you were acting with incomplete information and could not have known, then why are you feeling this emotion of guilt? Oh well.
Be a good witch now. The Wolves are almost here.
*
Each breath was agony in his lungs. Mortarion had already lost feeling in the rest of his flesh, but he could feel the burn along the roof of his mouth, down his throat, expanding as his lungs expanded, then the almost comforting echo of the initial pain as he breathed out.
Was this it then? No matter how hard he tried, no much he struggled, he could not move another step forward. He could hear the sizzle as the acid in the wet mud under him ate into the right side of his face from his forehead, across the ridges of his brow, down his cheekbone, and along his chin. Maybe it would eat all of him until nothing was left. He could not bring his body to move enough to flinch away.
He had done everything he could. He had turned his back on all he had once been because he had seen it was wrong. He had taught the people of the valleys how to fight. He had climbed all the peaks but this one. He had never given up.
He still had not given up. Move. Move. Why wouldn’t his limbs carry him further? His determination had to be worth something. The light of his soul burned brightly. His spirit was willing; his flesh could not be so weak to fail him.
Did the very laws of nature stand against him? How dare they. What good was his determination if it wasn’t enough for him to go beyond his limits, beyond all limits of reality? Was he simply not good enough?
Was this how the people of Barbarus had felt before he came among them? But he had proved them wrong. Why couldn’t he do the same for himself?
‘Do you have a wish? I can grant it for you if you’ll become a puellus magus that fights evil.’
He instinctively drew a deeper breath to answer... then he couldn’t scream, but he wanted very much to.
It’s alright. You can speak to me directly with your mind.
You can hear me?
Sure. You’d better hurry, though. You don’t have long if you still want to be a hero of justice. You won’t last long like this.
Not long at all. He could see the shadow of the Overlord through the mists. A hero of justice? He thought a laugh. I wonder what the Death Guard will say to that.
So you’ll do it? What’s your wish?
I want to be able to keep moving forward, no matter how much my body may betray me.
Done.
The small creature he had half-glimpsed through the fog was gone. The Overlord was right there before him. So was the stranger.
Will you die of this? Of course not! Don’t give up hope, Mortarion! You can keep going through anything.
Will the pain stop? It doesn’t look like your species has the technology to cure the Destroyer Plague. I guess not.
But don’t worry, no matter how much it hurts, it will never quite kill you.
*
Dust and ashes. They fell from the sky, made patterns on the hot breeze, and piled among the ruins.
Lorgar fought to stand. He had fought on high-gravity worlds and against strange xeno sorceries before. He could not.
He should not want to fight, guilt said in counterpoint to rage and humiliation. A good son, a good worshipper, should accept his rebuke as deserved and seek only to better himself in the eyes of his father, his god.
He could not. He could not reconcile any of these words or actions with things he had believed his whole life, with his entire soul.
They were innocent! If they were wrong in Your eyes, it was only because we forced them to be so after we conquered them. The guilt is mine and mine alone! Punish me, not others. How could You destroy so many lives just as a message to me?
Then there was nothing, no Presence, no pressure upon him. Lorgar hardly noticed.
I only wanted the truth. I only wanted others to see the truth. Was that so wrong?
There was a creature now where He had been. A cat or a fox maybe. The ash fell away from its pristine white fur.
In the hour of your need, as you cry out to the heavens, you are heard. Do you have a wish? If you agree to fight evil as a puellus magus, I can grant you a miracle.
A miracle. We have fought for a lie, then. We have died for a lie. We have killed for a lie. These people, our people, died faithful, died unknowing. They called out for vengeance to me. To their slaughterer. I don’t know how to give them it. I need a miracle for them to have justice. Let their lives have had meaning.
That’s what your wish is? Okay.
Of course they mattered. Would you have ever done this without that push? Trillions have died for the sake of a few billion. You humans, we Incubators will never understand you. You can’t prioritise at all.
But we should thank you. It would have been too stable otherwise and that doesn’t produce good wishes. Only when they suffer do humans have such magnificent wishes that they want more than life itself. We’ll be able to hold back entropy for another ten thousand years thanks to all the wishes and witches your religious schism has produced already.
*
Angron ground his teeth. So consumed was he by the anger that it was hard to remember distractions like breathing.
They were coming closer. Good. Soon he would have their blood coating his hands.
No, it was bad. They would all die.
So? That had always been their fate. Any high-rider they could take down with them made it worth it.
He need to kill. He wanted something else... What had it been again?
They were here. No more distractions.
Do you have a wish you want more than your human life? You’ll never be able to stop fighting after that, as a puellus magus, but I can give you a wish in exchange. One miracle.
What was his life worth? Nothing. What else would he be doing but fighting? Unthinkable.
He couldn’t think.
Didn’t need to. Knew what he wanted more than anything at that moment, anticipating the crack of their bodies under his hands, the smell of their blood and bowels.
I want to kill all of them. All them that want us to fight for their enjoyment.
Five minutes later, Angron wished for his brothers and sisters to not be dead.
*
‘Why now? Why are you offering me this now? There is a siege on, but that was true last week and will be true next week. Not much longer than, I estimate. I would not waste a wish on that. Besides, there will be another one after that.’
‘Your wish can be anything you want, Perturabo. It’s an unlimited miracle.’
‘I have never heard of a miracle born from ennui. I am not desperate. Heroics are single moments of greatness utterly removed from the day-to-day grind that is life. It’s easy to wish once and die a hero. Living everyday is much harder but less glorious.’
‘You can be a hero too. A hero of justice.’
‘Did you not hear me, creature? That is the easy way out. Glory is selfishness. A true hero lives everyday to the fullest and does that which is needed day after day no matter how mundane. No miracle can make that easier. That is worth. From the greatest to the smallest, all may serve the future of humanity.’
‘You’re not happy though.’
Perturabo sighed. ‘I hardly desire to force the Emperor, beloved of all, to give my Legion assignments that might make us happier when we are where we can do the most good towards his designs. My brothers’ respect I will earn by my own deeds.’
‘It doesn’t have to be any of those things. What do you really want your life to amount to?’
‘That’s a thought. This then: I wish to be remembered for the things I built.’
Don’t worry, the Imperium will always remember your Eternal Fortress.
Is this what you meant your legacy to be? An empty shell now filled with the bodies of your brothers? I don’t know. You were the one that built it.
*
‘Have you decided yet, Fulgrim?’
‘These things cannot be rushed. My wish needs to be perfect. That said, I have chosen one, Kyubey.’
‘That’s wonderful. What will your contract with me be for?’
‘I want to be a perfect puellus magus.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be great at that, Fulgrim!’
‘He’s dead. I killed him. He was always a loyal brother to me. It was my fault all along. Ferrus never was never jealous of me, was he?’
‘I never sensed such emotions from him. The only emotional signatures I was able to catalogue were those in keeping with the human disease called friendship and those you call love and respect and protectiveness and loyalty and... Fulgrim? Fulgrim? You’re ready then? You’re emotions produced so much magical energy for the universe already, and just think, you’ll be able to help our quota even more. It would be a waste if you ended it now. The next step in a puellus magus’ lifecycle is to become a witch. It wouldn’t be perfect to leave things incomplete.’
*
‘Are you awake now? I detected a shift in your brainwaves.’
‘Water,’ croaked the spindly young man who would one day be Konrad Curze.
‘Right here.’ Kyubey nosed the bucket towards him.
He stuck his face in it first, then drank some. It tasted of dirt and blood after that, but a hand across his cheek confirmed that the deep scratches across his face had already closed up. A few coarse scabs made lines down from his eyes like he’d been crying.
‘What did you see this time?’
‘Can’t you tell?’
‘We have no idea how your power works either. When we Incubators speak of the future, we are extrapolating from existing evidence and probability models. If we could produce magic like you humans, we wouldn’t need you.’
‘Hm.’
‘So?’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Did you see where someone was going to jump off a building? I don’t sense any witches nearby.’
‘When have they ever been necessary?’ He started to walk. ‘I have something different in mind.’
Kyubey jumped from a refuse pile onto his head. ‘Based on past data correlated with your tone of voice, you are unlikely to mean eating this body again.’
‘You have more.’
‘Certainly, but it is inefficient to waste energy that could be going towards fighting entropy when there are humans that would be left to rot.’
He brought them to an empty shop. Kyubey jumped through a broken skylight while he ripped through the wall behind the alarm system to pull out wires before breaking the lock on the backdoor. Kyubey’s eyes would normally had glowed red in the dark, but it turned them off to not annoy the Nostraman.
‘You saw a bakery in the future?’
‘I saw that the baker is going to be murdered for his chrono in three minutes in a nicer part of town far from here. He used to leave the bread that was too burnt to sell or had gone stale next to the dumpster. His daughter won’t come to the shop for another week, then she’ll throw everything out. As you say, it would be a waste to let everything go bad.’
He opened one of the display cases delicately rather than breaking the glass, though he sat on the floor and ate with his hands instead of using any of the chairs or forks around. He fed Kyubey from his hand too.
As Kyubey devoured the cake he held out to it in bites almost as large as its head, he licked the last of the sweetness from the back of his teeth and said evenly, ‘I’ve seen full well what you intend for me, Incubator.’
‘Does that mean you don’t want to make a contract with me? That would be too bad.’
‘I know I’m going to. I’ve already decided what I’m going to wish for. I don’t have to be see the future to know that I’m going to agree to a contract with you during one of my fits.’ Either kind of fits.
‘If you want it, shouldn’t you be happier about it? You should wish for something you want. You’ll be the one paying for it.’
‘I’m going to wish to kill evil until I’m the one everyone’s afraid of. I’m going to wish to be a monster. A monster is needed; I don’t need to enjoy it.’ (But he would.)
‘Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,’ Kyubey said, licking up the last of the frosting and blood clinging to his palm.
The halls of his flagship had always been dark, but now they danced with activity, black on black. The darkness was an object of fear because it was full of monsters. So it was.
Why aren’t the familiars attacking? the puella maga, the assassin, asked Kyubey silently.
The witch wants you all to himself.
Overconfident. The puella maga laughed to herself, though not aloud. She had wished for the ability to kill any witch. Against familiars she’d have had to work up a sweat.
The witch smiled at the puella maga, showing his sharp teeth, a spot of white in a shadowed and blood-stained face. ‘You can always find another one, can’t you, Kyubey?’
‘I only offer the contract. It’s their choice to take it. Fear of your Legion has given me many contracts. Thank you.’
M’Shen had never known a witch to speak. No matter. She’d have an interested audience for her story when she returned to Terra with his grief-seed.
‘Many puelli magi and many witches in turn. Do not try for my Legion or you Incubators will be half-disappointed. I am the last witch they will tolerate among them.’
‘What?’ M’Shen said aloud in confusion. Puelli magi fought witches. They didn’t attract them or anything, or hunting them down would be less time-consuming.
The smile broadened. So many teeth. ‘As you are, so I was. As I am, so shall you be.’
*
‘Was that really the future, Kyubey?’
‘It could be. The future can always change as long as you don’t lose hope!’
‘I won’t let it happen. I won’t let us be cast aside like a tool that’s no longer useful. Even if all that we believe in is a lie on a madman’s path to godhood, I’ll make it true, with my own hands. If puelli magi are made for fighting evil, then I’ll use this power for fighting back against this betrayal.’
‘If you say so, Horus. What is your wish then?’
‘I wish to never be a slave to my father’s designs again.’
Soul-gem in hand, Horus healed his body in a moment. It was nothing.
The witch barrier sprung up around both of them in the last moment. Horus’ soul-gem was so dark in the Emperor’s bright hand.
‘Father, I’m sorry.’
Darker and darker until the last bit of light clouded over. Darker and darker as the last ounce of hope turned to despair and horror at what he had done.
‘So am I.’
The Emperor closed his fist to crush the grief-seed to dust.
*
‘What do you want then?’ The Incubator swished its tail, only to have it bitten by one of the goats that the boy was watching.
The boy whacked the goat with his stick. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said to the goat before flopping on his back. ‘I don’t know. Is there really that much out there?’
‘Even more. The data transmission to tell you about all the universe would take too long. Maybe your species can see it too someday, once you’re done figuring out how to make sharper rocks.’
‘I’d like that. No, Mom and Dad said I can’t go too far when I have the goats. I’m responsible for them,’ the boy reminded himself proudly.
‘You are a juvenile of your species now, but you won’t always be. You can be anything you want if you wish for it. Even a god. No matter how impossible your dreams, they can come true.’
The boy thought about it. Mankind was always at the whims of the gods, the gods of sun and storm, of good harvest and of pestilence. A god might be happy or it might be angry, but that could not be trusted. Everything that a man had worked for could be crushed without thought or reason. The only things mankind could count on were themselves and each other.
‘I wish that nothing ever rule over mankind. Our fate is our own.’
Kyubey nosed the boy. ‘Alright. Even we Incubators shall be bound by that. You will be left to make your own mistakes. We will make contracts with you only as you chose. Make sure you never blame anyone else for the results of your choices, okay?’ It wrinkled its nose cutely. ‘I can’t wait until you join us among the stars. After all, your wishes will save the universe.’
Everyday, a thousand grief seeds, drawn from all corners of the galaxy, leeched the darkness from the Emperor's soul-gem as His mortal form suffered upon the Golden Throne.
At the end of everyday, it was just a little bit darker.
(a/n: I can’t think up a serious one for Alpharius that I like, so have this omake totally not keeping with the tone of this fic instead:
‘I wish for an unlimited number of wishes.’ ‘I wish that all my wishes will come about in the spirit I intend them without any fussing around about exact wording.’ ‘I wish no wishes of mine or anyone else lead me or anyone else into despair.’ ‘I wish to not fall into despair despite my wishes.’ ‘Now then, I wish for a cake.’ ‘And the internet.’ ‘And a family that isn’t totally screwed up.’ ‘And another cake.’ ‘And a pony.’)