In Warhammer, My System is Minecraft

Chapter 228: Cegorach, the Laughing God

The deity worshipped by the Harlequin Troupes—Cegorach, the Laughing God.

He was one of the three surviving Aeldari gods. The other two were Isha, the Goddess of Fertility and Nature, currently imprisoned within the thorns of Nurgle’s Garden; and Khaine, the God of War, being broken during a titanic battle in the Warp between the newly born Chaos God Slaanesh and Khorne into countless avatars, lingering in the mortal realm as mere fragments.

The stage lights slowly expanded, illuminating the Harlequin Troupe standing behind Cegorach. Yvraine and her Ynnari were also impressively present among their ranks.

Wearing a jester’s mask, Cegorach’s unfathomable gaze fell upon the Reaper’s Scythe in Zeke’s hands. The God of the Dead and the Laughing God were once close brothers.

Zeke pulled himself out of the lingering aftertaste of the theatrical performance, a trace of vigilance quietly taking root in his heart. Cegorach was also known as the God of Deception. This title alone was the clearest of warnings; his appearance here was by no means accidental, and he undoubtedly harbored an ulterior motive.

"I come bearing goodwill," Cegorach spoke first.

Zeke ignored the pleasantry, shifting his gaze directly to Yvraine. "The other two Croneswords you promised—when will you deliver them?"

"You truly did succeed in retrieving that Cronesword, Zeke," Yvraine said, giving a slight nod. "As for the remaining Croneswords, I have already delivered them to the Imperial Regent."

This gesture of delivering the goods upfront stirred a rare sense of goodwill within Zeke; the Aeldari were reasonably trustworthy after all. He withdrew his gaze from afar and focused back on Cegorach, opening his mouth to probe the god’s intentions.

Cegorach lightly snapped his fingers, and the stage play from earlier seemed to hit fast-forward. The curtains drew back once more as light and shadow flowed, replaying the previous events like a rapid carousel. It wasn’t until the scene where Slaanesh and Fulgrim jointly birthed a child that Cegorach raised his hands and clapped twice, bringing the play to an abrupt halt.

His gaze landed on the Harlequin playing the infant spawn of Slaanesh, his posture thoughtful.

"Truly incredible," Cegorach began. "The birth of a god... new life is often simply another name for hope. And in the moment of its descent, I glimpsed the dawn of the Aeldari pantheon’s return."

The words ’Aeldari pantheon’ triggered a massive reaction among the gathered Aeldari, sparking a sudden wave of whispers. This was not complete nonsense. Slaanesh had once devoured all the deities of the pantheon, swallowing them into Her belly. However, the essence of gods was exceedingly difficult to destroy; they were merely suppressed, trapped with seemingly no hope of seeing the light of day.

The birth that Zeke had instigated was less of a true birth and more of a masterfully crafted replication. Everything Slaanesh possessed—the devoured Aeldari gods, their power, and their authority—had actually been inherited right along with it.

Cegorach did not need to continue; Zeke already understood perfectly. If gathering the five Croneswords could summon the already dead God of Death back from the void, then releasing the slumbering Aeldari divine powers from within the infant Slaanesh might just be enough to restore the entire Aeldari pantheon to their rightful places.

These grand implications left Zeke not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Humanity only had a single God-Emperor, yet the Aeldari were certainly talking a big game, wanting to manifest an entire pantheon.

There was absolutely no way Zeke would agree to this. The inherent potential of the Aeldari was fundamentally stronger than that of humanity, boasting extremely long lifespans and exceptionally potent Warp talents. Zeke could tolerate a small fraction of the Aeldari surviving, but he absolutely could not allow the entire race to walk the path of total resurgence.

Cegorach continued his persuasion. "Relying solely on yourself, or perhaps adding your Master of Mankind, it will be no easy feat to stand against four chaos gods. But if you were to add the Aeldari pantheon to the mix, there is undeniable strength in numbers."

With a gesture, Cegorach let the stage play continue, the scene shifting to the exact moment Zeke cleaved Slaanesh apart with the Reaper’s Scythe.

"The gods of the Warp are nowhere near as fragile as you imagine. The only reason you could wound Slaanesh is because the God of Death is Her natural counter. Like water overcoming fire, the cycle of mutual generation and restriction has its own absolute rules. But if this method were used against the other three chaos gods, it would be useful, but not by much."

The fact that the Reaper’s Scythe couldn’t do much against the other three was something Zeke had anticipated long ago. Still, carrying a bit of curiosity, he asked Cegorach, "Why?"

"Then allow me to unveil the mysteries of the Warp for you," Cegorach replied, displaying an unexpectedly deep patience toward Zeke as he elaborated. "The essence of the Warp is pure disorder. Compared to reality, the Warp blurs everything. There is only a starting point and an endpoint; there is no process. That is the fundamental norm there."

The Harlequins’ play happened to reach that exact corresponding scene: Slaanesh gathering Her strength to strike, while the Totem of Undying on Zeke’s body suddenly flared to life.

Zeke listened intently, realizing the crucial point at this very moment. From burning Nurgle’s Garden to this brutal intrusion into the Palace of Pleasure, he had never truly blocked a single attack from the chaos gods. He had relied entirely on the Totem of Undying dragging him back from the absolute brink of death time and time again.

Cegorach continued, "The attacks of those gods are completely untraceable. For example, if Slaanesh wants to punch you, you won’t perceive Her throwing the punch. You won’t see the fist carve an arc through space to fly toward you. Slaanesh wants to throw a punch, and then you die. There is no process—only cause and effect. The rules of reality are completely rewritten in the Warp, where everything serves only emotion and will."

Is it really that troublesome?

Zeke thought, absorbing Cegorach’s explanation.

"Precisely because confrontations on the Warp level are so obscure and incomprehensible, if you take the Reaper’s Scythe to fight any chaos god other than Slaanesh, there is only one outcome. You swing your blade; the god decrees that the blade will miss, and the blade will inevitably miss. Since it misses, how can you even speak of harming the god in the slightest?"

Cegorach paused before adding, "The reason the Reaper’s Scythe could strike Slaanesh was that it resonated with the devoured Aeldari souls trapped within Her belly. In that instant, She crashed, Her defenses thrown wide open, which is what provided you with a window of opportunity."

Hearing of Slaanesh being wounded, a flash of deep satisfaction crossed Yvraine’s eyes, looking as if a long-suppressed breath of foul air had finally been exhaled. "Feasting on the Aeldari day after day... She has finally tasted the bitter fruit of Her own actions."

"But I still have the infant version of Slaanesh in my hands," Zeke reminded them.

Cegorach shook his head. "A newly born god cannot possibly stand toe-to-toe with an established veteran, even if it could barely manage a fight, you would only be dealing with two chaos gods simultaneously. What of the remaining two?"

Through the vox-caster, the Emperor’s voice suddenly cut in; He had been listening to the exchange between the Laughing God and Zeke the entire time. "Leave them to Me."

Cegorach fell silent for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "That does make some sense. But haven’t you considered adding another layer of insurance?"

Zeke looked up at him, his tone calm. "So, what brilliant idea do you have?"

Cegorach’s smile hid something much deeper. "I don’t. But if you can resurrect the Aeldari pantheon, they absolutely will."

"The Aeldari offer nothing but unpresentable parlor tricks. Zeke, do not agree to their terms." A familiar mechanical whir echoed through the air as a verdant rift violently tore open, and an old acquaintance of Zeke stepped out.

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Goal = 500 Powerstones.

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