Warhammer 40,000: Echoes of Divinity

Late into the night. Summoned from Battle

Grot was still deep in the throes of combat when the order came.

A direct transmission from Qin Mo himself—

Return to the fortress immediately.

Even Grey was puzzled by the sudden command, but Grot, ever disciplined, did not question his Lord Commander's will.

Upon arrival, he was escorted by fortress guards through the dimly lit corridors of the underground complex. Every step was heavy with unspoken tension.

When the doors to the detention chambers finally opened, Grot's eyes narrowed in surprise.

Qin Mo was there, as expected, hunched over a newly constructed device—its components thrumming with an eerie, controlled energy.

But what caught Grot's attention was the prisoner bound inside the cell.

The very heretic Magus he had been hunting.

....

"Isn't this the High Magus of the Heretics?"

Grot stepped into the cell with an amused expression.

"How did you capture her?"

The Magus glared, eyes burning with hate, but her bindings held fast. She clenched her teeth in seething rage—yet was utterly powerless to act.

Qin Mo did not answer.

Instead, he simply raised a finger toward the Magus's face.

"Punch her."

Grot cocked his head slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Force her to use psychic powers."

Grot grinned—more than happy to comply.

His gauntleted fist, reinforced by the power of Thunderborn armor, swung forward—

A sickening crunch.

Bone shattered. The Magus's skull caved inward as she convulsed violently, her body instinctively lashing out in agony.

Her mouth twisted into a primal snarl, and for a brief moment—

The air hummed with the telltale vibrations of Warp energy.

But nothing happened.

The psychic backlash never came.

Qin Mo simply nodded in satisfaction.

"It works."

Grot blinked, uncertain what had just been tested.

Qin Mo gestured toward the device. "This is my latest anti-psyker instrument. It disrupts the minds of psykers within its field, suppressing their abilities entirely."

Grot frowned. "How is this different from the Psyker suppressors emitters built into our Thunderborn armor?"

"Stronger interference. Think of it as an advanced version. Our armor's Psyker suppressors-fields weaken psykers—but this? This makes them utterly defenseless."

The Magus twitched on the ground, her eyes wide with terror as she realized her connection to the Warp had been severed.

Grot's excitement grew as he examined the device.

It was bulky, clearly a prototype, but he had no doubt that once refined, it would become a terrifying tool against psykers and Warp-spawn alike.

Yet, despite his enthusiasm, a question nagged at him.

Why was he called back from battle for this?

....

"Starting today, you are to remain at the fortress," Qin Mo commanded.

"Understood."

Grot instinctively acknowledged the order—then realized what it meant.

The war was still raging across the Underhive. The heretics were far from eradicated.

And yet—he was being pulled from the battlefield.

"I will follow orders, but may I ask why?" Grot inquired. "With my Thunderborn Armor, I can significantly accelerate our frontline advances."

Qin Mo's response was brief.

"I have a more important task for you."

Grot hesitated.

More important than the war itself?

But as he studied Qin Mo's expression, he noticed something unusual.

The Lord Commander looked… troubled.

Not with the war, not with the heretics—but with something far greater.

Understanding that now was not the time for further questions, Grot bowed his head.

"As you command, Lord Commander."

Qin Mo nodded. "Good. Go get some rest."

Grot turned to leave but hesitated at the doorway.

"Am I to assume I won't be fighting for the foreseeable future?"

Qin Mo did not answer.

His focus had already returned to his work.

Grot took the hint, quietly exiting the chamber.

....

Qin Mo turned his gaze back to the bound Magus and spoke the one question that truly puzzled him.

"How were you captured?"

The Magus remained silent.

Not that she could answer—her face was so grotesquely deformed from Grot's strike that speech was physically impossible.

But from her furious, bewildered expression, Qin Mo could tell—

She herself had no idea how she ended up here.

Qin Mo frowned.

Vanessa.

He exhaled sharply and refocused on his research.

....

Later that night.

Qin Mo had collapsed asleep at his workbench.

Or so he thought.

Because even as his body rested, his mind remained conscious, transported to a bizarre location.

He stood in a lavishly decorated bedroom, its opulence starkly out of place compared to the cold steel of the fortress.

A massive tree stood in the corner, its leaves an unnatural, vibrant green. Its verdant canopy pulsed with an unnatural light, its bark seeming to twist and shift under his gaze.

It did not belong in this space.

As he approached—

A grotesque face emerged from the bark, grinning wildly.

"Boo∼! Did I scare you?"

Qin Mo remained expressionless.

"You find this amusing?"

The tree's grin vanished instantly.

A moment later, its form began to shift—morphing into the shape of a young girl.

Qin Mo recognized her immediately.

The same girl from his previous visions.

The one who had transformed into a tank, then a nobleman.

She studied him with unnatural maturity.

"I remember who you are now. You are the Forge-Master."

Qin Mo's gaze sharpened.

"Another title? Last time you called me 'the Shapeshifter.' Which is it?"

The girl grinned.

"No, no, no—Shapeshifter is me."

Her form shifted again—

This time into Grey, clad in full Thunderborn armor.

"All because of that damned Void-Dragon." she continued, voice dripping with venom. "It shattered me into fragments. My memories are incomplete and scattered. But I am the true Shapeshifter."

Reality warped.

The bedroom vanished, replaced by a starfield stretching into infinity.

At its center, a luminous figure stood—

A being composed of pure blue energy, forging a sword from the very stars themselves.

"The Forge-Master was the youngest and weakest of the C'tan," the girl narrated. "But that was because it never relied on its own power to fight. Instead, it created terrifying weapons—artifacts so potent that even other Star Gods sought their strength."

The starfield shifted again.

A purple energy entity appeared—its form indescribable.

"That was me—the Shapeshifter."

Her voice darkened, a bitter edge creeping into her words.

"But you remained whole… while I was shattered into fragments. All because you betrayed me."

Qin Mo's gaze hardened.

"Explain."

"The weapon the Void-Dragon used to shatter me?" She clenched her fists. "It was your creation."

"I was not powerful on my own, but I was fluid, ever-changing. The Void-Dragon should never have been able to destroy me."

Reality twisted once more.

The Forge-Master stood behind the Void-Dragon, smiling as the Shapeshifter was torn apart.

The vision continued—

Other C'tan emerged—Iash'uddra, Nyadra'zatha…

All of them devoured.

The Shapeshifter smirked.

"One by one, you consumed them all."

Qin Mo's mind reeled.

This revelation was… too much.

Up until now, he had believed he was merely channeling C'tan power, or perhaps fused with a fragment of one.

But this?

This implied something far worse.

He fell into deep thought, completely unaware of the sly smirk curling on the Shapeshifter's lips.

Then—

Something felt off.

Qin Mo snapped out of his thoughts.

No… something about this story is a lie.

His eyes narrowed as he pieced it together.

If the Forge-Master truly worked alongside the Void-Dragon…

If it was such a critical figure in C'tan history…

Then why had he never heard of it before?

He stared at the Shapeshifter.

Then—realization struck.

He stared at her.

"You're not the Shapeshifter."

His voice turned cold.

"You're the Deceiver, Mephet'ran."