Kratos5627
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Escaping Chaos
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 00:30:02 +0000 UTCChapter's a bit early but here we go. With this we are officially done with chaos worlds as a whole. I will be focusing on more different factions of 40k now. Enjoy.
Cassian sat in the ship's small mess area, staring at the mountain of food before him. Rations, nutrient pastes, anything edible had been piled onto a metal tray, and he barely hesitated before digging in. The nanites coursing through his bloodstream demanded food—more than he thought possible. His hands trembled slightly, his body still in the early stages of recovery, but his appetite was voracious.
He ate like a starved man, shoveling food into his mouth with single-minded focus. Each bite satisfying his hunger more, his body hungrily absorbing the nutrients. The nanites have not yet fully integrated, but he could already feel something he just didn't know what to label this feeling. His wounds, the lingering aches and bruises, were fading faster than what should have been possible.
Magos Farron observed him from across the room as he looked at cassian shov, his cybernetic eyes whirring as they adjusted focus. "Your caloric intake has increased by 243%. Fascinating. The metabolic acceleration is within expected parameters. How do you feel?"
Cassian swallowed another mouthful before answering. "Like a man trying to fill a bottomless pit. I could eat another five trays and still be hungry."
The Magos gave a hum, his fingers tapping against his metal arm. "As Expected. The nanites are in their initial replication phase. They require biomass, proteins, and essential nutrients to construct additional units. Your body is prioritizing cellular enhancement. Muscle density, neural conductivity, bone reinforcement."
Cassian grunted. "Sounds fancy. I just feel sore."
"Your body is adjusting. The augmentation is not immediate. Your genetic structure must adapt." Farron leaned closer, peering at him with his enhanced optics. "Pain is natural. The enhancements are not immediate they will show effect as time passes.”
Cassian nodded, still chewing. He had no illusions about what he was becoming. The process was changing him on a fundamental level, but the alternative was being weak, being outclassed. He refused to remain weak like this forever.
---
The first day passed in a haze of eating and exhaustion. He slept for nearly twelve hours, his body shutting down to focus entirely on the augmentation. When he woke, the hunger was still there, gnawing at him. He ate again, and the cycle repeated. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat.
By the third day, the changes were starting to become slowly noticeable.
Cassian stood in the training chamber of the ship, rolling his shoulders. With Magos monitoring for data that nanites cause to the body. His movements just a little smooth and fast. There was a strange sense of lightness in his limbs, despite his increased muscle mass. He flexed his fingers, feeling the building strength in them.
He moved into basic exercises—push-ups, pull-ups, squats. His endurance had increased, his breathing has become steadier than before. He did not tire as quickly. He tossed a metal wrench into the air, then caught it without looking, his hand moving using instinct
Magos Farron observed from the control panel. "Neuromuscular response time has improved. Your body is starting to push itself to reach the level of your enhanced mind.” Cassian smirked. "So now my body will be able to move with my mind."
"Incrementally. You are approaching the baseline physical capabilities of an unarmored Astartes recruit. With passing time, you will become even stronger as nanites continue making changes to your body to optimise it."
Cassian tested his grip on the metal railing. The strength was there. Not superhuman, but slightly more than he had before. His mind was clearer as well. With his memetic enhanced mind, evolving body and psyker abilities. He was confident in defeating at least the less experienced but fully augmented astartes in combat. Provided they are not special units or named characters.
---
On the fifth day, Cassian decided to test himself further. He moved to the ship’s cargo hold, where spare parts and heavy machinery were stored. He found a rusted, half-destroyed section of plating—something that would have been impossible for him to lift before.
He crouched down, gripping the edge, and heaved.
He didn't expect to lift it just see the how much he could push his body. The metal groaned as he lifted it a few inches off the ground before letting it drop with a clang. He exhaled sharply, his muscles burning.
Cassian leaned against the metal crate, breathing heavily. He stared at his hands, as he sighed. He has come so far from the beginning. He still has to go even further. Why couldn't he be transmigrated in the DxD universe. Yes, he would had to work just as hard but he could have a harem by now. Instead he is in this shit hole where even attempting that would result in him being corrupted by a tentacle hermaphrodite eldritch bitch. He shook his head and got back to testing his new body.
---
Cassian sat on a half-melted crate, watching Magos Farron scuttle around the ship’s interior, collecting everything that wasn’t bolted down. And, in some cases, things that were. The tech-priest worked with the efficiency of a machine—because, well, he was mostly machine at this point—but there was something almost obsessive about the way he cataloged, detached, and stored various components.
"You know we’re leaving, right?" Cassian asked, raising a brow. "Not dismantling the place for parts."
Farron didn’t even glance up. "This is called preparation, Cassian. You’d be amazed how many people die because they forget the basics."
Cassian exhaled. "And the basics include… ripping the walls apart?"
"Redundancies, spare materials, essential components," Farron listed, prying off another panel with a screech of protesting metal. "What, you think we’ll just stumble into a well-stocked forge world anytime soon?"
Cassian shook his head. "You could at least pretend to be sentimental."
Farron stopped for a second, as if considering. "Fine. Goodbye, ship. You were… adequate."
Cassian sighed. "You really know how to bring a tear to my eye."
"Efficiency is my priority."
Cassian stood, stretching. "Alright, while you strip the ship down like a scavenger, I’ll grab my stuff."
"Good. Try not to forget anything important. Or do, if you feel like making life harder for yourself."
"Noted."
He made his way toward the storage lockers, retrieving the few possessions that still mattered. His melted-down bolter was useless—Farron had salvaged what he could from it, but the weapon had been beyond saving. That left him with his meltagun, which had seen better days but was still functional, and the knife Faeveleth had given him. Not much, but usable. He also packed a small supply of food and water—whatever hadn’t spoiled in the ship’s failing storage systems. He wasn’t about to take his chances with warp-touched rations.
By the time he returned, Farron had piled an impressive collection of scavenged materials near the ramp. Cassian gave it a once-over. "So, what, you planning on carrying all that?"
Farron gestured vaguely at the pile. "Most of it."
Cassian blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You’re stronger now," Farron said. "I figured you might as well put it to use."
Cassian folded his arms. "I am not your pack mule."
"You’re not. But I don’t see anyone else around, do you?"
Cassian sighed. "I hate that you make sense sometimes."
"You’ll live."
Cassian rolled his eyes but slung a few of the lighter packs over his shoulder. They had a long walk ahead, and he wasn’t about to waste time arguing.
As they stepped onto the loading ramp, Cassian took one last look at the ship. It had become a battered wreck with warp storms and daemons and all that, barely spaceworthy even before their last skirmish. But it had been home, in a way.
"Well, that’s that," he muttered. "Goodbye, you magnificent heap of junk."
Farron scoffed. "Magnificent is a strong word."
"It kept us alive."
Farron tilted his head slightly, then gave a mechanical shrug. "Fair enough."
With that, they turned away from the ship, stepping onto the shifting, unstable ground of the daemon world. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and something faintly sulfuric. The landscape around them twisted as if it resented their departure—walls of ruined architecture shifting in the distance, shadows moving without a source.
"Y’know, part of me expected this place to just swallow us whole as soon as we stepped off the ramp," Cassian mused.
"Would’ve been inconvenient," Farron replied dryly.
"Yeah, a real shame. We’d miss out on all the horrors waiting for us elsewhere."
The familiar absurdity of the warp-touched terrain played out around them. Once again, the ground occasionally tried to slither away beneath their feet. The sky rippled, forming patterns that looked suspiciously like watching eyes. At one point, an archway collapsed in on itself, only to reform seconds later as if nothing had happened.
"You ever gonna miss this place?" Cassian asked, stepping over what he was reasonably sure was a ribcage embedded in the ground.
"Not even a little."
Cassian smirked. "No nostalgia for the good old days?"
"If these were good days, you have a terrible definition of good."
Cassian chuckled. "Alright, fair point."
They continued in silence, making their way toward the Webway gate where Faeveleth was supposed to be waiting. It was strange, knowing they were finally leaving. Cassian wasn’t the sentimental type, but something about this felt… final.
As they neared the gate, Cassian took one last look at the twisted landscape behind them.
"You know," he said, "for all the absolute nightmares we went through here… I won’t miss a damn thing."
Farron huffed. "Like any sane man."
Cassian smirked. "Sanity is overrated anyways."
And with that, they stepped forward, leaving the past behind.
---
Cassian caught sight of her first.
Faeveleth stood by the towering structure of the Webway gate, barely visible against the shifting, unnatural twilight of the daemon world. The arcane, wraithbone arch loomed behind her, its alien contours pulsing faintly, as if waiting—watching.
Cassian slowed his approach, his steps careful. Magos Farron followed at his side, mechanical limbs whirring softly, his crimson robes billowing in the wind. Neither Cassian nor Faeveleth reached for their weapons, but the tension in the air was thick, coiled like a wire ready to snap.
She had come as promised.
Good.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a potential threat.
Cassian studied her carefully. She carried herself with the same eerie grace, but there was a tautness in her stance, a subtle readiness. He didn’t doubt that if he made one wrong move, she would have her blade at his throat before he could blink.
“Cassian,” Faeveleth greeted, her voice even, unreadable. Her gaze flicked briefly to the towering figure beside him. “And you have brought… something.”
Magos Farron’s mechanical optics whirred as he took in the Eldar, his head tilting slightly. “Designation: Faeveleth. Confirmed species: Aeldari. Initial assessment—combat-capable, probable expertise in xenos warp-based technology. Fascinating.”
Cassian exhaled. “I would introduce you both, but you seem to have managed that yourselves.”
Faeveleth’s expression was unreadable, but there was a sharpness in her tone when she spoke again. “You ally with the priesthood of Mars?”
Cassian shrugged. “Ally is a strong word. But we’ve kept each other alive so far.”
Faeveleth’s gaze lingered on Farron. “I have seen men wear armor. I have seen men wield steel. I have seen men walk the path of the scholar, the warlord, the king. But rarely do I see a man so willingly carve away his own flesh and replace it with machine. Do you still consider yourself human, Tech-Priest?”
Magos Farron regarded her with what almost seemed like amusement. “Humanity is a construct of biological limitations. I have ascended beyond such concerns.” He made a sound—part static, part chuckle. “Your species would do well to recognize the inefficiency of flesh.”
Faeveleth’s lips curled in something that was not quite a smile. “Yes. We have seen what becomes of those who replace flesh with metal.” Her tone was unreadable, but Cassian caught the faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something in her expression—something older than hatred.
Before the conversation could spiral, Cassian cut in. “The gate. We’re wasting time.”
Faeveleth nodded, stepping aside to reveal the wraithbone arch in its full, towering enormity. The air around it pulsed with faint, shifting colors, the runes carved into its surface flickering with life, responding to the presence of those who stood before it.
“The Webway is not like your crude human gates into the warp,” Faeveleth said. “It does not open with mere will or force. It requires knowledge about our technology. Harmony. And most importantly—” She extended a hand. “—a key.”
Cassian reached into his cloak, retrieving the relic they had recovered. The artifact was cold to the touch, its surface etched with the same shifting patterns that adorned the gate. He could feel something beneath its surface—a hum.
He handed it to her.
Faeveleth took the key with a careful, touch, stepping toward the gate. She moved with slow, movement, pressing the artifact against the wraithbone surface. The gate reacted immediately.
The air around them vibrated. The runes along the structure’s length flared, their light growing brighter, pulsing in sequence. The key in Faeveleth’s hand melted into the gate like liquid metal, sinking into the structure’s form, becoming one with it.
Cassian felt the change before he saw it.
The pressure in the air shifted, thickened. The space within the arch began to ripple, distorting like the surface of a disturbed pool. Then, with a sound that was less of a noise and more of a sudden absence of sound—
The Webway opened.
Before them, reality peeled back, revealing a corridor of impossible colors, shifting and warping beyond human comprehension. The path within twisted and stretched, endless yet contained, vast yet claustrophobic. It was not the Warp—there was no maddening swirl of daemonic chaos—but it was still not natural.
Magos Farron observed the sight with what could only be described as deep fascination. “A stable transdimensional pathway,” he mused. “I hypothesize that its structure exists partially in a null-space state, intersecting with realspace only at its access points. The implications are… profound.”
Faeveleth ignored him. She turned to Cassian, her gaze sharp. “The path ahead is not without its dangers. Do you trust me enough to follow?”
Cassian held her gaze for a long moment.
Trust.
Fuck no.
But there were no choices.
“Let’s move.”
As the three of them stepped toward the portal, a sound rose from the depths of the daemon world behind them.
A scream.
Not one.
Many.
A chorus of howls and shrieks, of rage and hatred, of things bound to this planet’s cursed existence reacting to the Webway’s activation. The greater daemon of the Changer of Ways, lurking in the shadows of the world, had noticed their escape. And they did not approve.
The air shudder
ed with the force of their wails. The ground cracked. The sky itself seemed to twist, recoiling at their departure.
But the gate did not waver.
Cassian stepped through.
And the world behind them vanished.
Comments
Kratos5628
Yeah, back to back chaos world were becoming repetitive. I noticed but now it set the tone for future now.
Mika Willems
A Warrant of Trade is gene locked, would be hard to become one unless they have a way to bypass it. Would be cool tho.
Darth Bane
I kinda hope he becomes a rogue trader.
Siva Chandan Chakka
Finally a new arc
