Evolto City: The Nexus of Eternity

Nyxia remained still for a moment, slowly lowering his hand from his earpiece. He narrowed his eyes at Vidarath, who was trying and failing not to look like a cornered animal. The jittery being was glancing at the windows, shadows, even the ceiling, as though expecting something to descend upon him at any moment.

"You jump like that again, and I'm going to start believing someone actually is hunting you," Nyxia muttered, standing up with a tired stretch.

Vidarath didn't reply. His expression had turned unreadable, lips drawn into a thin line. But he got up anyway, smoothing down his sleeves and brushing off invisible dust. The humor that usually danced in his eyes was absent replaced with a low, gnawing tension.

Then both of their comms beeped.

Vidarath let out a sharp yelp, jumping nearly a foot off his seat, clutching his chest like he'd been shot. "By the Creators! Every damn time!"

Nyxia's brow furrowed slightly as he answered his comm first. Dr. Wagner's face appeared as a small blue hologram projected from the device, his expression uncharacteristically grim.

"Zalthorion called you both to his office," Wagner said without pleasantries.

Nyxia straightened slightly. "Why? Is it about the last mission?"

"I don't know," Wagner replied, his tone low. "But he sounded… serious. No jokes. No riddles. Just that 'he needs to see you both immediately.' I'd get moving if I were you."

Nyxia nodded. "Understood."

"You heard him," Nyxia said, adjusting the strap across his chest. "Zalthorion wants to see us."

Vidarath hesitated, then nodded. "Right. Yeah. I'm totally not walking into my own execution or anything…"

They walked through the echoing marble halls of the Nexus Tower, the crystalline walls humming ever so faintly with ambient Void energy. As they approached the elevator, Vidarath muttered under his breath, "He sounds serious, Wagner said. That's never a good thing. Last time he 'sounded serious,' half the Exo-Guardians got upgraded and the rest were sobbing into their armor."

"You sob into your armor?"

"I don't have armor. I sob into other people's armor. It's efficient."

Nyxia didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

The elevator doors opened with a hiss. They stepped inside, and for the first few floors, there was only silence. But around the 70th floor, Vidarath blurted out

"Okay but hypothetically, if you were getting contacted by multiple versions of… let's say, godlike warriors who might have been… gender-swapped and might believe you are their missing partner what would you do?"

Nyxia turned to look at him.

"…Ignore the hallucinations, or tell Wagner you need sleep meds."

Vidarath groaned and leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. "Why did it have to be the Empress first…"

Before Nyxia could press him further, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal Zalthorion's office bathed in twilight-blue light, filled with the subtle scent of starfire and scorched parchment.

Zalthorion stood behind his vast obsidian desk, arms crossed, draped in flowing cosmic-black robes that shimmered faintly with constellations. Dr. Wagner was there too, arms folded, brows creased. There was an unmistakable weight in the air.

Zalthorion stood tall behind his obsidian desk, cosmic-black robes trailing like shadows made of starlight. The air in the room had weight like the calm before a storm. Starfire and scorched parchment lingered in the air. Dr. Wagner stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"Good," Zalthorion said, his voice low and resolute. "You're both here."

Nyxia stepped forward, adjusting the strap across his chest. "Wagner said this was serious."

Zalthorion's eyes flickered. "Someone has been experimenting with Multiversal Transition Devices. Ones identical to our own."

Vidarath let out a dry scoff. "So? That happens every other Thursday. Most of them can barely breach their own narrative branch. Angstrom Levy, some versions of Strange, a few rogue Singers what's new?"

"You're right," Zalthorion said, folding his hands behind his back. "Most stay within their narrative bounds. But this one is different. Whoever is behind it is traveling outside of their branch. And worse"

He turned, activating a holographic projection of shifting universal paths.

"they're using our exact method. Down to the dimensional frequency and Void-tunneling sequence. It's not imitation. It's replication."

Nyxia's brows furrowed. "So you want us to find out who built it."

"And whether they are a threat… or someone worth recruiting."

Vidarath frowned, squinting at the flickering multiversal stream. "So… which universe are we heading into?"

Zalthorion tapped a crystalline interface.

"Designation: Universe W40-R61987."

The data scrolled by: 'Warhammer 40K – Erotic Variant. God-Empress of Mankind. All Primarchs gender-swapped. Excessive fanservice warnings logged. Archive flagged by multiple archivists for 'unstable tone and overwhelming thirst energy.'"

Vidarath went completely pale.

"No," he said instantly. "No. Nope. I am not going into that place. I know that universe. It's… It's cursed. There's so much fan art. They made a swimsuit calendar for the Sisters of Battle and called it canon."

"You may not opt out," Zalthorion said firmly, eyes narrowing. "Normally, I would be lenient. But not this time. The nature of this mission takes priority over your… traumas."

Vidarath's eye twitched. "It's not a trauma, it's a war crime in narrative structure. Their Vulkan bakes cookies with plasma heat.

Dr. Wagner, still leaning against the wall, muttered without looking up, "Sounds like a proper hell."

"Wagner," Vidarath hissed, "they made Horus a tsundere. Do you even understand the psychic damage that implies?"

Nyxia just adjusted his gauntlet, unfazed. "So. Same retrieval protocols?"

Zalthorion nodded. "Yes. Enter the universe. Locate the source of the unauthorized MTD signature. Assess the individual. Do not engage unless provoked. And do not under any circumstance draw the attention of the Empress."

"…Too late for that," Vidarath mumbled under his breath.

Zalthorion's eyes flared for a brief moment. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing! I said nothing! Just warming up my nerves!"

Nyxia tilted his head. "You're hiding something."

"I hide many things.

Zalthorion stepped back from the console, gaze hard. "Dismissed. Briefing uploaded to your interfaces. Extraction coordinates are already set. You leave in ten."

As the doors hissed open behind them, Vidarath leaned over to Nyxia and whispered, "If I die in there, delete my browser history."

Nyxia didn't even pause. "No.

They stepped out of the rift with the soft crackle of collapsing reality behind them.

Nyxia barely had time to orient himself before a distant BOOM of fireworks and the deafening roar of a crowd assaulted his senses. The air was thick with incense, flower petals, and blaring fanfare. When he looked around then up he realized with dawning horror that they were in a parade route.

And not just any parade.

In front of the Imperial Palace.

In the middle of the celebration.

In a dark, cramped alleyway behind a glowing float of cherub-faced Servo-Skulls and golden-armored dancers gyrating around a twenty-foot effigy of the Empress.

Nyxia let out a slow, venom-laced exhale. "I swear to every Blackstone in the Divide, if Wagner tweaked the coordinates again"

He checked his MTD, which had been modified by Wagner to trace the exact quantum frequency of the duplicated Multiversal Travel Device.

A blinking red dot appeared.

Inside the Imperial Palace.

Nyxia stared at it for a long moment. Then, with forced calm, he turned the screen toward Vidarath and deadpanned:

"Oh, look. Drumroll, please. The signal is coming from the Imperial Throne Room."

Vidarath, who had been silently trying to blend into the shadows and not be noticed by a suspicious marching squad of Sisterhood Honor Guards, peeked over and went completely still.

"Of course it is," he said, voice tight. "Because why wouldn't the reality-defying bootleg MTD be in the most heavily guarded building in the entire multiverse branch? During a coronation parade. With probably ten thousand Empress-simping soldiers in attendance."

Nyxia groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is already a disaster."

From the parade float nearby, an overly ornate announcer on a vox-horn boomed: "ALL HAIL THE DIVINE EMPRESS!"

Vidarath whimpered. "Please kill me now."

"We go during the post-parade ceremony. Everyone will be distracted, full of holy wine and ego. We slip under the cathedral, trigger a false relic alarm, mask the energy signature, and extract the Echo through a micro-phase void hook."

Vidarath blinked. "You mean we just punch the floor really hard?"

"Yes," Nyxia said. "But smartly."

"I do nothing unsmartly."

And yet, neither of them noticed the figure watching them from the shadows above, perched on a gothic spire like a patient raven.

Corvina Corax.

Mistress of Shadows.

Primarch of the XIX Legion.

Her raven-black wings were cloaked in null-light. Her eyes glowed with a soft psychic sheen, but it wasn't hate or suspicion in her stare it was adoration.

She whispered to herself, too quietly for human ears, but not too quiet for the Mother.

"Oh Cain… you've returned to us. My beautiful Cain…"

Her gaze never left Vidarath who, in another life, had passed through this reality like a seductive comet, unknowingly captivating every soul he touched. Back then, for reasons even he didn't recall now, he had used the name Cain. He had worn a silver mask, whispered forbidden sonnets, and told the Primarchs they were more beautiful than creation itself.

And then he vanished.

Without a word.

Without a goodbye.

Leaving shattered hearts… and dangerously frayed minds.

Corvina placed her hand to her temple, whispering telepathically across the void, straight to the Throne herself.

"Mother… our Cain. He has returned to us. You were right. That device he left… it was the key to bring him back."

Far away, seated on her hovering throne at the head of the parade, the God Empress of Mankind paused for a breath. Her golden eyes widened, only slightly—but enough.

The last marching Astartes didn't notice the slight twitch of her lips.

Then came the laugh subtle, regal, just short of a whisper like the moment a hurricane smiles.

But she kept her expression serene, even divine, as the crowd continued to cheer. Yet her thoughts ran wild, an ancient part of her soul reignited like a supernova.

Oh Cain… my lovely Cain… I knew you would return to us eventually. This time this time I won't ever let you go, my darling…

Unconsciously, she licked her lips.

Back in the alley, Vidarath suddenly shivered.

Nyxia narrowed her eyes. "...Are you okay?"

"I I just got this really strange sense of being watched. Like… intensely. Like 'chained-in-a-cathedral-while-being-fed-grapes-by-people-who-claim-to-be-your-wives' intense."

Nyxia's brow furrowed. "What a strangely specific fear."

"I wish it were hypothetical," Vidarath muttered.

Nyxia paused. "...Did you use the alias Cain here?"

Vidarath blinked. "I mean maybe? I had a phase, alright? I thought it sounded poetic."

She stared at him.

He stared back.

They both slowly turned their heads… just in time to see Corvina Corax vanish into the shadows.

The mission had been textbook at least, at first.

Nyxia and Vidarath had infiltrated the Imperial Palace by blending in with the massive parade outside. Drones disguised their life signatures, hacked ident-tags masked their biosignatures, and the local echo-static field kept their MTD trail fuzzy. The parade itself had been a distraction: hundreds of Space Marines marching in synchronicity, banners raised high, music thundering through the air like divine judgment. At the rear, the God-Empress herself stood radiant, wreathed in holy light, followed by her Primarch daughters all tall, impossibly beautiful, and terrifyingly perfect.

Underneath that spectacle, Nyxia and Vidarath had slipped through the servant quarters, moving with calculated speed.

Their target: a device buried beneath the palace, replicating multiversal frequencies dangerously close to the MTD's core design. A copy machine of forbidden technology and a potential disaster waiting to happen.

They bypassed the inner sanctum's defenses, avoiding detection for almost twenty minutes, until…

A burning halo of light erupted behind them.

"We've been found," Nyxia had said flatly, as a wall of Adeptus Sororitas armor gleaming, eyes alight with fury surrounded them with bolters raised. They didn't even get the chance to resist.

Now…

They stood in the throne room, wrists bound with searing null-wire. The scent of incense hung in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of the Golden Throne.

The God-Empress sat upon it tall, divine, timeless. Beside her stood the Primarchs, their expressions unreadable. Cold. Calculated. Eyes sharp like glass blades.

Nyxia's tail twitched anxiously. His mind raced for a plan.

Vidarath, meanwhile, stood unnaturally still. His usual aloof, theatrical aura had drained. There was a tension in his posture recognition… or dread.

The Empress gestured gently.

"Leave us," she commanded, voice honeyed and absolute.

The Adeptus Sororitas bowed and exited, the heavy doors groaning shut behind them.

Then, everything changed.

The cold mask of authority melted from the Empress and her daughters like wax in flame. The Primarchs' blank expressions flickered then bloomed into manic joy. The Empress rose with unnatural grace, her heels clicking on marble, her eyes never leaving Vidarath.

"Oh Cain…" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've come back to us."

Vidarath didn't answer. His face twisted into a mask of horror and confusion.

One of the Primarchs her crimson armor stained from a hundred battlefields, unmistakably Angrona, the female Angron stepped forward and grabbed Vidarath, dragging him to the base of the throne like a prize.

"Cain… Cain… Cain…" she repeated like a mantra, panting almost feverishly.

Before he could move, the Empress was already there, one finger under his chin, lifting his head with unnatural strength.

"It's so… saddening," she murmured, her tone velvet and venom. "You return to us like this… breaking into your own home."

Then, with a sultry curl of her lips: "Darling."

Vidarath's mouth opened slightly but no words came out.

Nyxia, still restrained, looked between them and muttered in disbelief, "What. The. Actual. Fuck."