Craftworld Aeldari had always been proud.
They believed they were the branch that had truly inherited the legacy of the old Aeldari Empire.
Before the Fall ever arrived, this branch had proactively taken their vast world-ships—merchant arks, once—and fled to the galaxy's edge to escape disaster.
Inside those craftworlds, they carried their home's art, industrial technologies, even whole environmental systems and native species.
The craftworld Aeldari preserved almost everything they believed worth preserving: culture, wealth, and knowledge.
Even their people had been selected with ruthless care—elites, the best of the best.
They hadn't sunk into indulgence the way other Aeldari branches had. Instead, they held tighter discipline, reigning in desire.
All of that gave the craftworld Aeldari a deep sense of honor.
In their eyes, among all the scattered Aeldari across the galaxy, none lived with more dignity than they did.
And the Commorragh-born Aeldari pirates sat at the very bottom of the contempt chain.
They had chosen decadence. Indulgence, raiding, abandoning ancestral arts, obsessing over fleshcraft.
Their souls had grown brittle, and they survived only by tormenting their own souls and the souls of others, siphoning strength to keep going—wretched beyond words.
More like Chaos's lackeys than kin.
But the distant kin from Commorragh have changed. They're no longer addicted to flesh and torture. Their bodies and souls are… strong.
Fashimel stared at those black-armored warriors and found herself thinking exactly that.
Those warriors bore neither warped flesh nor filthy, greedy souls.
If anything, they seemed cleaner than the craftworld Aeldari themselves, untouched by the stench of corrosion.
They also carried a higher sense of aesthetics, and weapons and wargear of startling quality.
They looked more like the ancestors the craftworld Aeldari spoke of in reverent tones.
And compared to them, Alaitoc's Children looked weak and ragged, almost embarrassing.
Lord Asurmen remade Commorragh's distant kin. He kept them from madness, and he won the Goddess of Life Isha's protection for them.
They're rich. They're powerful. They even dare to strike back against the Dark Prince's daemonic claws…
Fashimel began to see the problem more clearly.
Under the Dark Prince's corrosion and torment, Alaitoc had inevitably declined too far. Too many Paths and disciplines no longer had anyone left to inherit them.
Even survival itself was becoming a question.
She felt ashamed.
It wasn't only Fashimel. More and more Children of Alaitoc, faced with Redemption Elysium's gorgeous and powerful host, lowered their once-proud heads.
The truth was right in front of them. They couldn't lie to their own hearts.
Alaitoc's Children were exhausted, weakened, falling behind even their distant kin. Even their physiques didn't measure up anymore.
"So it actually crushed their confidence. Clothes really do make the man, and a saddle makes the horse…" Eden watched the self-abased Alaitoc Aeldari and couldn't help a quiet sigh.
The situation felt like that "Black Ships" shock back home—an island people suddenly realizing just how backward and powerless they were, with the seeds of reform planted in the same instant.
What the elder seer and Fashimel didn't know was that not all Drukhari were this tall and imposing.
The warriors being shown to them were, for the most part, carefully selected showpieces Eden had picked for appearances—pure presence, nothing wasted.
Of course, the real MVP was Slaanesh. The Dark Prince had ground Alaitoc's Aeldari down for far too long.
Give them time to recover, and they would erupt with tremendous potential for growth and war.
Commorragh's distant kin probably won't raid us.
And besides, Lord Asurmen is so elegant, so generous. How could someone like that do something as shameful as raiding?
That thought began to spread among the Children of Alaitoc.
Because of the image Eden had built and the moral pedestal he'd erected for himself, their resistance had already softened considerably.
And there was more to it than appearances. He was quietly using his authority to dissolve negative emotions, slowly shaving away rejection and increasing their goodwill toward him.
Even the elder seer's resolve was beginning to wobble.
What they didn't realize was that when a ruler puts on a mask of mercy, it usually means he wants something bigger, something higher.
This "Great Asurmen" wanted support.
He wanted to take Alaitoc whole.
It was a mindset born from stereotype: Aeldari pirates always raid once, then vanish.
If they'd grown wealthy and no longer raided, didn't that mean the threat was smaller?
Unfortunately, this Commorragh ruler wanted more than any pirate ever would.
He wasn't just after wealth. He wanted their people, and their land with them.
Seeing his persuasion taking hold, Eden pressed harder.
"After we received the Goddess of Life's protection and entered an age of safety and prosperity, we did not hoard that blessing for ourselves.
We have never forgotten our kin who still suffer under the Dark Prince's torment. We feel your pain as if it were our own, and it grieves us."
He released the life energy he'd been holding back in a single surge, spreading it across as wide an area as possible.
He wanted Alaitoc's Aeldari to feel Isha's presence, even if only as a faint brush against the soul.
Then, with a sweep of his hand, one skimmer-sailcraft after another threw back their tarps, revealing decks piled high with spirit stones.
Sacred relics the Aeldari treasured beyond price.
And they were stacked there like cargo.
The shock hit even harder.
The Children of Alaitoc gasped. So many spirit stones appearing all at once struck their souls like a hammer.
They couldn't look away.
Right now, many of Alaitoc's Guardians didn't even have a spirit stone, let alone those who walked other Paths.
They lived in extreme fear, trembling under the Dark Prince's covetous gaze.
They wanted those stones.
Eden's voice rose, louder and warmer, overflowing with benevolence.
"Redemption Elysium follows the Goddess of Life's guidance. We have come to save our Aeldari kin of Alaitoc.
We have brought spirit stones to protect your souls."
Then he began to act, turning on a performance of wounded grace, as if he'd been insulted. His elegant face tightened with grievance.
"We crossed storm after storm, and we brought every spirit stone we had in our vaults. Yet our goodwill has been met with suspicion.
If this kindness is not accepted, then we have no choice but to leave…"
He turned to go, his pace deliberately slow.
The skimmer-sailcraft laden with spirit stones began to turn as well, drifting as if to depart with Great Asurmen.
With the sailcraft and the crowd framing him, his retreating silhouette carried a strange hint of loneliness.
We misunderstood Lord Asurmen. We misunderstood Commorragh's distant kin. We stained that kindness…
Fashimel stared at his back, and a sharp, sour ache rose in her throat, along with guilt so heavy it made her chest hurt.
She didn't want that presence to leave burdened by grievance.
She wanted to rush forward and beg him to stay, even to throw her arms around him.
But she knew that was only her delusion.
She wasn't worthy of doing such a thing.
Around her, other Alaitoc Guardians felt the same, shame blooming thick in their hearts.
They had driven away kin who had come to help them.
What kind of sin was that?
The elder seer wavered more than anyone, chiefly because he couldn't bear to watch those spirit stones leave.
No Aeldari could.
He knew exactly how desperately Alaitoc needed them. With that batch of spirit stones, the Infinity Circuit could be repaired, and more Guardians could be armed.
Spirit stones were courage and a second life.
A warrior without a spirit stone was a warrior fighting with a blade already broken.
After all, having your soul swallowed by the Dark Prince was worse than death.
If they could keep those spirit stones, Alaitoc wouldn't just recover.
It might even grow strong again.
The elder seer wanted them with all his heart, but he didn't dare entertain the thought of seizing them.
Commorragh's distant kin were too heavily armed. Alaitoc couldn't stop them.
Watching Asurmen turn to leave, he finally couldn't hold back. He stepped forward, calling out to stop him.
In his urgency, his voice even rose sharp.
"Lord Asurmen, please halt your steps.
Alaitoc has misunderstood your goodwill. On behalf of the Seer Council, I offer our apologies. Y-you… please, come in!"
Under the crowd's anxious, pleading stares, Eden finally stopped.
His brows knit as if weighing the decision.
Fashimel pressed a hand to her chest, tense to the point of pain, breathing fast and shallow.
In truth, Eden was ecstatic.
The moment the elder seer apologized and invited him into the central district, Eden had gained lawful authority to "rescue" Alaitoc.
That was legitimacy.
Eden slowly turned back. Under everyone's gaze, he looked at the elder seer and let out a long sigh.
"Since you have asked, I will accept the Seer Council's apology, and continue helping our kin."
Then his eyes swept across the crowd.
He shrugged off the elder seer and strode forward.
It was like a declaration, his voice carried outward on psychic resonance, stirring blood and breath alike.
"Next, I, the descendant of Asurmen, will deliver every Aeldari kin of Alaitoc.
My warriors will help you drive out the daemons. My relief forces will place spirit stones into the hands of every tortured soul, and offer whatever aid we can.
There is no time to waste. We must begin at once.
Alaitoc will end its suffering and welcome redemption.
May the Goddess of Life shelter us. We will save our home with our own hands.
Homeward!"
"Homeward!"
Those words set the Children of Alaitoc on fire.
They surged after him toward the central district.
The crowd swelled.
And the sailcraft flotilla, heavy with spirit stones, along with the main host of Redemption Elysium, quickly followed.
As naturally as if they were returning to their own home.
Eden had achieved his purpose at last, already shaping the next stages of his annexation.
Of course he wasn't stupid enough to hand the spirit stones to the Seer Council.
What would that make him, a relief bureau delivering state aid?
No.
If anyone was going to distribute them, it would be him.
The Guardians were hot-blooded now.
It was the perfect time to move.
"No, no, you can't…"
The elder seer stared at the surging tide and went numb.
How did it suddenly become this passionate?
Alaitoc's Guardians were almost entirely swept up.
And he hadn't said Commorragh's distant kin could bring their forces into the central district, did he?
That was Alaitoc's core.
But the Children of Alaitoc were in full fever now. No one cared about the elder seer anymore.
They even shoved him aside in the crush.
At that moment, Eden had only one thought.
The main force finally made it into the city.
…
Alaitoc, Central District.
Beneath dust-caked, ancient spire-towers, everything looked dead.
There were almost no pedestrians on the streets.
Aeldari residents hid inside their dwellings, eyes wide with fear, or cowered beneath eaves.
Their souls were barely hanging on.
They wanted salvation so badly it was pitiful.
In some corners lay dead local beasts, their bodies showing faint traces of corruption.
"This can't go on. If the High Farseer can't hold back the taint, it's all over…" Eden looked at the scene, worry deepening.
Fear and torment were smothering the central district.
Other residential zones and related sectors were probably no better.
He could see the marks of desperate fighting between Guardians and daemons.
It looked brutal.
Too many regions and facilities had collapsed—no time to repair them, or no capability left to do so.
Even the weapon-forging workshops had gone cold.
He understood the seers' fear.
If he really were a pirate, wouldn't he look at this and strike while the fire was hottest, taking everything in sight?
Under an awning, an Aeldari woman holding a small child looked over, then recoiled in terror, pressing back as if the wall behind her could protect them.
From the tools scattered at her feet, she walked the Path of the Artisan, making handcrafts.
But she had no strength left.
Even her mind was beginning to blur.
The Guardians who had followed Asurmen saw it.
Shame washed over them.
They hadn't protected their people.
They hadn't protected their home.
"No need to be afraid…" Eden looked at the resident and offered a gentle smile.
With a light push of psychic force, he floated a spirit stone toward her.
He also left behind a vial of draught that could temporarily ease the pain of a wounded soul.
Eden's gaze moved from one resident to the next.
Looking at those tortured, near-fading souls, he made a promise.
"From this day onward, you will not live in fear, because the Goddess of Life will shelter you…"
When he finished, he turned his head to the elder seer who had followed them in.
He didn't give the man a chance to speak.
"Seer, you aren't going to stop us from saving people, are you?
Or is it that your Seer Council doesn't want to save them at all, and intends to abandon the Children of Alaitoc?"
He seized the moral high ground and put the elder seer on trial in public.
With the higher seers trapped in the Infinity Circuit, the elder seer stood alone and outnumbered.
It was the perfect moment to break him with righteousness.
"I… we, of course, will not obstruct rescue efforts…" Under the stares of the Guardians, the distant kin of Commorragh, and the local residents, the elder seer stammered.
Faced with that question, there was only one answer.
Anything else would invite fury.
He even felt that if he refused, Asurmen would ignite the crowd and have him torn apart.
When people needed someone to blame, all they needed was a head.
The elder seer desperately tried to think of restrictions he could still impose.
But Eden didn't let him speak again.
He issued the order outright.
"Since the Seer Council has permitted it, then relief operations begin now!"
He was already in the city.
From this moment on, this place might as well be his territory.
The instant Great Asurmen gave the order, the flotilla's loudspeakers roared to life.
Not just here.
Every sailcraft that had reached Alaitoc joined in.
Broadcasts echoed through Alaitoc's atmosphere.
Amid sacred, stirring Aeldari hymns, the Lhamaeans announced the glad tidings of Great Asurmen's descent:
By the Goddess of Life's guidance, and by the Seer Council's invitation, that presence had come to aid Alaitoc.
This world would end its suffering and welcome rebirth…
The short version was basically this, delivered to the tune of something like a "Good Luck Is Coming" jingle:
Our savior of the Aeldari, here to save the suffering and deliver the lost, is here to hand out spirit stones to the hometown folks.
Come and claim them.
The broadcast was cheesy.
It was also brutally effective.
Wide coverage, and it forced the Seer Council to serve as the endorsement.
After that, more flotillas arrived at Alaitoc with blinding speed, pouring into every district.
So enthusiastic.
So friendly.
Eden's warrior host fanned out across the city, assisting local Guardians in driving back daemons with overwhelming strength.
The pressure of the invasion eased.
Meanwhile, the bulk of his relief forces pushed into one residential sector after another, distributing spirit stones, soul-restoration draughts, and offering help to the "local folks."
They built grassroots goodwill, and while they were at it, spread the doctrines of the Goddess of Life.
Everything moved so fast the elder seer's head spun.
He had no time to react.
"By the skein of fate…
That Asurmen is hiding a terrifying ambition. He's coveting Alaitoc…" The elder seer watched it all and felt his nerves go numb again and again, dread deepening.
Too fast.
Commorragh's distant kin moved like they had rehearsed this a thousand times.
Their ambition couldn't have been clearer.
But what could he do?
Eden's warriors were "helping Guardians clear daemons," and they truly were strong.
That vast sea of relief personnel carried no weapons at all. They went door to door delivering spirit stones, delivering warmth, practically one step away from patching blankets for the locals.
The Lhamaeans and the Succubi wore smiles so gentle.
Like angels.
In that situation, could Alaitoc's Guardians really be ordered to drive them out?
Even more so when Commorragh's warrior host had already penetrated every key point.
If Alaitoc tried to use force, the consequences were unthinkable.
The elder seer couldn't even be sure the Guardians would obey.
The Seer Council was not a centralized regime. It guided through prestige, not chains.
Under normal circumstances, Alaitoc's Children followed that guidance.
Right now, that was far from certain.
After all, on the surface, Asurmen looked like he had given everything to help Alaitoc.
Rumble—rumble—rumble.
The elder seer felt the tremor and the rolling thunder underfoot.
He looked up, and his composure shattered.
In a distant street block, a statue of the Goddess of Life—over ten meters tall—was being raised, faint psychic radiance shimmering from it.
Even worse, smaller statues of the Aeldari savior Asurmen were being set up as well, only slightly more discreet.
"This… this…" The elder seer nearly suffocated.
Not only had they brought in a statue of the Goddess of Life.
Asurmen was even bringing in statues of himself.
What else did that man plan to do next?
He didn't dare imagine it.
The elder seer drew a deep breath and rushed toward the Webway gate.
The situation was urgent.
He had to summon the seers to deal with this, even if it meant taking risks and interrupting their struggle against Chaos corruption.
…
The Seer Council Hall.
That old dome, standing among mountain peaks and collapsed towers, hosted another gathering.
High-ranking seers answered the call, returning from the psychic world of the Warp.
They were deeply uneasy about what they faced.
"What vicious methods. They're distributing spirit stones to the Children of Alaitoc.
And erecting icons."
A blind seer slammed a fist down on the stone table, furious.
But a heartbeat later he realized how wrong that sounded, and he awkwardly drew back into silence.
The seers understood: Asurmen wasn't hiding his ambition in the slightest.
And he was using an open scheme.
He meant to swallow Alaitoc.
The elder seer's clouded eyes turned to the figure who looked as noble as a spirit made flesh—Elarai.
His heart was heavy with dread.
"High Farseer, we must stop Asurmen, before he… does something even more terrible…"
Before Elarai could answer, a psychic transmission boldly crossed the barrier—blatant, almost rude in its confidence.
The high-ranking seers instantly tensed.
But the psychic signal held no malice.
It wasn't concealed.
It was simply a message.
And the fact that it could cross that barrier was proof enough of the sender's strength.
"It's Asurmen's psychic signature." The elder seer shuddered and warned the others.
Then Asurmen's elegant, courteous voice rang out.
"Honored High Farseer, I have an important question I wish to discuss with you."
The manner of it, however, was undeniably abrupt.
Like: Hello, hello, hello. Is Qiuya there? Is Qiuya there?
"Lord Asurmen, please speak." Elarai's voice was soft, clear, and lovely.
The High Farseer's perfect body was draped in gauze-thin veils like mist, holy and cold.
Any living being, of any species, would pause to admire her, perhaps even feel a surge of possessive desire.
Elarai showed little emotion at Asurmen's intrusion.
So long as she held the Infinity Circuit, that presence could not do whatever he pleased…
(End of Chapter)
[Get +30 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"]
[Every 300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]