Chapter 16: The Laughing God Notices
The arrival of the Drukhari was no accident.
It meant one thing: Cegorach, the Laughing God of the Aeldari, had turned his gaze upon this planet.
Others among the ancient Eldar pantheon would no doubt follow—but the first to notice was always the Trickster. Always watching, always laughing. One of the last gods of the Eldar still active, Cegorach carries the burden of his dying race's legacy… and somehow still finds time to have fun with it.
He was cut from the same chaotic cloth as Aha, that cosmic jester from the Star Rail dimension next door.
The unfortunate Drukhari now trapped here? Merely toys flung through a malfunctioning Webway gate—bait, perhaps, or a distraction. A side-show act to amuse the Trickster. And if their fleet happens to be used as a convenient hammer to crush the incoming Tau?
Well.
[That giant beast, Godzilla, doesn't exactly look like he can fly… Hehe~~~]
Back in the Jungle
Thoros stood still, towering and unmoved.
His arrival stunned the Drukhari warband. Even the kabalite captain—a veteran of countless arena slaughters—took a step back involuntarily.
"A native of this world? It's massive…"
In their minds, the calculations were already running. A beast of this size would fetch a fortune in the blood-soaked arenas of Commorragh. The Haemonculi would pay handsomely for such a specimen.
Without a word, the kabalite captain slipped into a fighting stance. The rest of his warriors followed, fanning out in a semi-circle, their curved blades gleaming under the thick jungle canopy.
They could have opened fire with splinter rifles… but the Drukhari always preferred close combat. Pain delivered by hand is pain best savored—and the more exquisite the suffering, the sweeter the soul.
But Thoros didn't flinch. His single good eye scanned the group with chilling precision, like a cold machine weighing threats.
"Enemies," he muttered flatly.
The Drukhari struck first.
"For Khaine! Blood sacrifice!"
"Take him alive! The Haemonculi will pay very well for this one!"
One warrior darted forward with lightning speed, sliding beneath Thoros' massive legs, dragging his scimitar across the Lizardman's thigh.
Sparks.
No blood. No wound.
Thoros turned his head.
The kabalite warrior barely had time to blink before a massive tail lashed out at supersonic speed—too fast for even Drukhari reflexes.
CRACK.
His head was simply… gone. Sent flying into the jungle, embedding into a tree trunk like a melon hurled by a god.
"Enemy," Thoros repeated.
The rest of the Drukhari lunged. Only the captain held back.
"Fools," he muttered. "You really can't tell we're not in the same league?"
In seconds, Thoros was moving—fluid, brutal, unstoppable. Each motion carried terrifying weight. Limbs snapped, skulls caved in, torsos were crushed.
One warrior was caught mid-lunge. Thoros grabbed him by the skull with a single hand and lifted him like a child's doll. The kabalite thrashed, stabbing and hacking—but his blade only sparked harmlessly against scaled armor tougher than adamantium.
He might as well have been attacking a Dreadnought with a butterknife.
CRUNCH.
Thoros closed his fist. The warrior's skull imploded.
Blood dripped from his claws as he turned toward the Webway gate.
The captain was gone.
"…"
Thoros stood still, silent in the moonlight. Above him, the first Tau gunboats began to breach the cloud layer, engines humming as they flew low overhead.
He turned without a word and disappeared into the jungle.
A new battle awaited.
In Orbit
Three Tau gunboats hovered above the wreckage-strewn orbit where Captain Aurora's last transmission had originated.
"Commander, we've arrived at the source of the distress signal. But… only debris remains."
"For the Greater Good," came the solemn reply. "Captain Aurora is lost."
Seated at the heart of the command deck, the Ethereal leader of the fleet closed his eyes in mourning. Incense drifted from braziers near his throne, its peaceful scent a stark contrast to the tension in the air.
This was no scout mission. This was a main fleet.
Aboard the Guardian-class Mothership, Wind Caste officers operated massive holo-displays and strategic augurs. The Captain of the ship stood at attention, fingers dancing across controls.
"My lord, Aurora's fleet was destroyed by unknown forces. But her final message claimed this planet is suitable for colonization."
The Ethereal nodded.
"Then we honor her final wish. Begin orbital descent. For the Greater Good."
"For the Greater Good!"
Squadrons of gunboats launched from the Mothership's hangars, descending into the atmosphere. Troop transports followed, dropping steadily toward the green world below.
This was not a token force like Aurora's ragtag group. This was the real thing.
Fully armed. Fully reinforced.
The Tau's mechanized ground forces were deployed en masse. Fire Warriors in standard armor. Hammerhead and Devilfish-class vehicles. Gun drones. Infantry divisions.
And above all—the XV8 Crisis Battlesuits. Dozens of them.
Special units touched down first. XV25 Stealth Teams, their adaptive camouflage flickering, scouted ahead. Kroot auxiliary packs stalked the jungle's edge. Even contingents of Gue'vesa—humans raised under Tau guidance—descended with the main force.
The Imperium may be the larger empire, yes—but in localized engagements like this, the Tau can dominate.
That is… unless something interferes.
"Almost no anti-air resistance."
"It must be a wild world."
"Don't lower your guard. We lost an entire fleet here. Something dangerous is down there."
The warning came too late.
The jungle had been silent—not defenseless.
Suddenly, a column of plasma fire shot skyward from the canopy. One of the descending transport ships was hit directly, exploding in midair.
"What?!"
Before they could respond, more beams of energy lanced into the sky. Not many—but enough. Enough to make the Tau realize the world below had been watching.
And then—
Godzilla opened his mouth.
Above him, a Fortress-class frigate descended. Reinforced plating, powered deflector shields, the Tau equivalent of a pocket battleship. Something that even a Warlord Titan might hesitate to engage.
Godzilla's eyes locked on.
"I've been waiting for you, little titanium girls."
He inhaled.
"Radiation Hotline!!"
A searing beam of azure energy erupted upward, piercing through the Fortress-class ship like a hot knife through butter. The beam continued its upward sweep, slicing through transports mid-descent.
The Tau had walked into a trap.
They had been careless.
*******
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