本章概述：

????????????伊莎萊（Isarae）決定放個假，可能一去不回的那種——事實上，她就是這么打算的。

In which Isarae decides she needs a vacation, one she may not come back from, in fact, she intends not to.

正文：

血液在我腳邊積聚。

在被我選為離開科摩羅的出口的網(wǎng)道節(jié)點，駐守于此的百名衛(wèi)兵幾乎來不及互相示警便像樹葉一樣撒遍了碼頭。猩紅色恰如緩慢擴張的紅色調(diào)色板一樣延展開來，以最缺乏想象力的方式映襯著黑暗的城市。

哪怕這些武士們不及我古老，任何人也都會認為他們本可以體貼到死得比這更漂亮些。

可悲。

超越控制這套系統(tǒng)沒用多少時間，我作為魅魔的資格認證結(jié)合Shae’lith執(zhí)政官的臉皮幫忙提供的一點生物質(zhì)就是所需的全部東西。

我掃視著這個節(jié)點可能帶我前往的幾個世界。

在靈族之隕之前，科摩羅是靈族帝國最大的港口城市。它就像網(wǎng)道的腫大、長瘤的心臟，如城邦一般位于通商貿(mào)易的中心。多虧其獨特的位置，如果我足夠盡力的話就有可能到達銀河的任何一部分，但我不需要費那些功夫。

再說了，我還挺挑剔的。

“不是這個，”我喃喃著翻過幾個處女世界。盡管掠奪這些世界的確挺有趣的，可我已經(jīng)做過太多次了。那里沒有戰(zhàn)爭，屠殺無助的流亡者（Exodites）沒什么挑戰(zhàn)性，而且在燒殺擄掠一個原始世界成為一件苦差事前你也燒不了它多少次。

我是個藝術(shù)家，不是園藝師。

“不對，不對，不對，”我反復(fù)翻過幾個散發(fā)著象征危險的病態(tài)黃色的Mon-Keigh世界。

盡管掀起一場單人（女）對Mon-Keigh的戰(zhàn)爭也很好玩，可這沒什么意義，除此之外我在找一場進行中的戰(zhàn)爭，我可沒有自己挑起一場的耐心。

“嗯…要不…”?我在停留于一個被標(biāo)記為紅色，目前正遭到一個效忠混沌的Mon-Keigh戰(zhàn)士連隊進攻的流亡者世界時若有所思地哼了一聲。

“算了，”我下定決心，翻了過去。

他們?nèi)藬?shù)太少，除非這些流亡者里恰好有一個頂尖的前道途武士，抑或是混沌的艦船恰好承載了黑暗諸神的冠軍，否則我不大可能找到值得一殺的東西。

“不對，不對，不對，不…”我停了下來。

一個被標(biāo)記成發(fā)炎傷痕的顏色的世界在我眼前閃爍著。它在燃燒，于片刻間我欣賞了它的殘酷。一個巢都世界，就如Mon-Keigh稱呼的那樣，充斥幾十億只出沒于將傾大廈間的昆蟲，他們?nèi)家阉赖脚R頭。

“當(dāng)然了，這本是顯而易見的，”注意到控制臺上的標(biāo)簽的同時，我感覺微笑的影子回蕩在我的嘴唇上。

我渴望挑戰(zhàn)，我渴望注定能指向我的慘死的東西，而且我已經(jīng)找到了。

我毫不猶豫地敲入了坐標(biāo)并啟動了打開網(wǎng)道大門的工序。我找到了自己一直以來追尋的東西——一個浸沒在戰(zhàn)爭的狂熱和絕望中的世界。

更確切地說，在一場WAAAGH！中。

網(wǎng)道傳送門運轉(zhuǎn)和開啟的聲音再一次勾起了那絲期待感。這聲音遙遠而沉悶，但他確實響了起來，告訴我該出發(fā)了。

我回到了接近節(jié)點時使用的噴氣摩托，登上去并在網(wǎng)道如活物般怒放之時如打開了節(jié)流閥，科摩羅在我沖過傳送門，進入網(wǎng)道并駛向目標(biāo)星球時模糊成了一塊紅黑相間的污漬。

過了一小會兒，倒在節(jié)點主控室里的尸體上的定時跳線手雷爆炸了，這隨之關(guān)閉了我身后的傳送門并確保其在很長一段時間內(nèi)都會保持關(guān)閉。

這趟貫穿數(shù)千光年的旅程借助網(wǎng)道的復(fù)雜網(wǎng)絡(luò)只花了不到一個小時的時間。我回想著自己曾多么頻繁地和我的血腥新娘、我的巫靈教派一同游歷這條線路，有多少世界因為巨額賞金被我們收割；多少我?guī)淼呐`為滿足執(zhí)政官無盡的陰謀詭計死在競技場里，又有更多的多少最終成了我的血伶人的實驗素材。

這些都產(chǎn)出了什么？

不過是同一事物的更多變體。

幾萬億種毒劑誘導(dǎo)的更豐富的疼痛類型，最終還是以同一結(jié)果收場。

我無法理解任何以贊許或認為他們?nèi)〉昧耸裁闯晒砜创@種停滯的想法。

我極力拓展自己的藝術(shù)的極限，卻只讓它成了取悅隨便哪個能付的起奴隸和靈魂的錢的陰謀團日漸遲鈍的感官的廉價消遣。當(dāng)我前往飽受戰(zhàn)爭蹂躪的目的地時，我意識到這才是一切的終極真相——科摩羅有著癌般的榮耀，卻產(chǎn)生不了真正的新生事物。

只不過是那讓個讓全體靈族都被饑渴女士詛咒的失敗之變種罷了。

“看來Mon-Keigh在一些事上是對的，“我無精打采地輕笑起來，感到一股真切的樂趣擊穿了我冷漠的不安，“看來我的整個種族可能的確該死?！?/p>

當(dāng)傳送門的虹膜（iris）出現(xiàn)在遠處時，我口中冒出苦澀卻又真實的笑聲，隨機我俯身，低頭，睜開雙眼為一場突然襲擊做好準(zhǔn)備。

節(jié)點的控制臺尚未表明這個傳送門有任何暴露的風(fēng)險。但我要是沒有保持應(yīng)有的謹慎的話也不會活到今天。

在我突破傳送門的那一刻，我卡住動力撐桿，停止了我和摩托的運動并讓過載的動力流入電池，隨即便轉(zhuǎn)身下車，一只手抽出動力連枷，另一只手拔出“悔恨”（Rue）——我其中一支毒針手槍。

我被一座發(fā)霉、古老的地下墓穴所環(huán)繞，其中沒有任何明顯的死亡氣息能泄露Mon-Keigh或者獸人的存在。相反，只有塵埃和死尸，我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己感到一絲失望，它多么的安靜，不過我覺得我是來自己尋找樂子，而非是等它被拱手相讓的。

幾個動作下來，我關(guān)閉了噴氣摩托和傳送門。如果這里不適合作為我的埋骨之所那就得另尋出路，不過我再不會享受的節(jié)點的好處了。

閑逛可不是尋死的好法子，我想。

花了些比我想花費的更多的功夫，我設(shè)法把噴氣摩托開出了地下墓穴，直至到達了一直以來被藏在寄生于這顆星球上的Mon-Keigh的視線之外，被靈能屏蔽的傳送門。穿越靈能護盾和傳送門外的洞穴系統(tǒng)花了我三個多小時，到那時我已經(jīng)變得更相當(dāng)焦躁。

獸人的進攻僅在一天前展開，而已經(jīng)過去的每一個小時里我都沒能殺掉什么東西。我已經(jīng)把武器固定在腰間，開始期盼起某個有進取心的獸人能想到檢查一下這個洞穴以便我殺死他們，抑或是一群逃竄的人類難民。

這不將是場令人滿足的殺戮，但現(xiàn)在容不得我挑挑揀揀。

這樣的運氣沒找上我。

一個小時后，我煩悶地離開了洞穴。洞口終止與一座半開鑿的山的頂峰。空氣寒冷，稀薄，能聞到下面的巢都的污濁臭氣。

這座巢都像這顆行星的血肉上一處開放的瘡口般蔓延擴展，在獸人放肆地降臨其上時燃燒、起伏。老實說，我能真心喜歡獸人和人類的一點在于：他們繁衍地如此之快，以至于我永遠不會缺乏可殺的東西。

我還要再花幾個小時才能趕到這座城市，這令我很是惱火，不過我總會會到達那里并找到我的目標(biāo)。我能感受到環(huán)繞著這座城市的突突的靈能尖嘯——大量的駭人的慘死帶來的可口的痛苦。

好吧，至少在那里我不會感到饑餓了。

我再度騎上噴氣摩托并啟動了引擎。目標(biāo)的更新令我振奮，在附身啟動推進器時我開始好奇自己在這里的死狀。

死于一群獸人的沖擊在某種意義上很有吸引力。這是種真正缺乏價值又極不光彩的死法，令我頗為向往。另一方面，在與領(lǐng)導(dǎo)這場WAAAGH的獸人戰(zhàn)爭老大鏖戰(zhàn)后死去從個人角度看來更加令我滿足。我是藝術(shù)家也是戰(zhàn)士，我不確定自己能抵御最后一戰(zhàn)的誘惑。

在持續(xù)幾個月的無盡血戰(zhàn)后暴死也是一個選項。

我的杯子真的要滿溢出來了。

這個決定是對的，我如此確信。

原文：

Blood pooled around my feet.

The hundred guards of the Webway junction I’d chosen as my point of egress from Commorragh had barely had time to warn one another before they were scattered like leaves across the embarkation platform. Bright crimson spread in a slowly expanding palette of reds, contrasting the dark shades of the city, though only in the most trite and unimaginative manner.

Even if these warriors were not as ancient as I, one would think they could have been thoughtful enough to die more beautifully than this.

Pathetic.

It was the work of a few moments to override the system, a combination of my credentials as Succubus along with some biological matter helpfully provided from Archon Shae’lith’s flayed face was all it took.

I scanned over the possible worlds this junction could connect me to.

Before the Fall, Commorragh was the greatest port city of the Aeldarii Empire. It sat like a bloated, tumorous heart in the Webway, resting at the center of trade and commerce like a city-state. Thanks to its unique position, I could potentially reach any part of the galaxy if I tried hard enough, but there was no need for such efforts.

And anyway, I was feeling picky.

“No,” I muttered, flicking past several maiden worlds. As amusing as they would be to despoil, I’d done so far too many times. There was no war to be had there, no challenge in slaying helpless Exodite peasants, and one could only scorch a pristine world so many times before the notion became more of a chore than anything.

I was an artist, not a landscaper.

“No, no, no,” I repeated flicking past several Mon-Keigh worlds that glowed a sickly yellow for danger.

As amusing as it would be to wage a one-woman war against the Mon-Keigh, it would serve little purpose, and besides that I was looking for a war in progress, I didn’t have the patience to start one myself.

“Hm… perhaps,” I hummed thoughtfully as I paused on a red-tagged Exodite world currently being raided by what appeared to be a Chaos-sworn company of Mon-Keigh warriors.

“No,” I decided, flipping past it.?

Their numbers were few, and unless one of those Exodites happened to a superlative ex-Path warrior, or the Chaos vessel chanced to be carrying some champion of the Dark Gods, I was unlikely to find anything worth killing.

“No, no, no, n-” I paused.

A world tagged with the shade of an angry bruise blinked before me. It was burning, and I took a brief moment to admire the sheer brutality of it. A Hive World, as the Mon-Keigh call it, teeming with billions like insects infesting a decaying edifice, and they were all dying.

“Of course, it should have been obvious,” I felt the shadow of smile echo across my lips as I noted the tags on the console.

I wanted a challenge, I wanted something that was sure to result in my ignominious demise, and I had found it.

Without hesitation, I punched in the coordinates and began the cycle for opening the Webway portal. I found what I’d been looking for, a world soaked in the furor and abandon of war.

Or rather, in WAAAGH.

The sound of the Webway portal cycling up and opening drew out that thready sense of anticipation again. It was distant and dull, but it was there, and it was telling me to move.

I retreated back to the jetbike I’d used to reach the junction, mounted it, and opened the throttle just as the Webway exploded into fulminating life, and the Commorragh became nothing more than a black-and-red blur as I tore through the portal and into the Webway towards my target planet.

A few moments later, the haywire grenades I’d left on a timer behind me attached to the various corpses I’d littered the junction control chamber with went off, shutting the portal behind me and ensuring it would stay closed for a very long time.

The journey, a span of thousands of light years, took less than an hour to complete via the complex networks of the Webway. I reflected on how often I had traveled these lanes with my brides, my cult, and how many worlds we had reaped of their mortal bounty. How many slaves had I taken to die in my pits to feed into the endless machinations of the Archons, and how many more had ended up as experimental fodder for my haemonculus.?

To produce what?

More variations on the same thing.

More varieties of pain induced by a trillion different toxins, all resulting in the exact same outcome.

How anyone could view that kind of stagnation with approval or with the notion that they had succeeded at something was beyond me.?

I had pushed the furthest boundaries of my art only for it to become a cheap diversion enacted to please the jaded senses of whatever Kabal could afford our fee in slaves and souls. That, I realised as I was in transit to my war-torn destination, was the ultimate truth of it all… that Commorragh, for all of its cancerous glory, could produce nothing truly new.

Just variations of the same failure that had damned each and every Aeldarii to the gullet of She Who Thirsts.

“It seems the Mon-Keigh were right about something,” I chuckled wanly, feeling a surge of real, genuine amusement crack through my malaise of dispassion. “It seems my entire race does likely deserve to die.”

Laughter bubbled out of me, bitter but real, as the iris of the far portal appeared in the distance, and I leaned in, keeping my head low and my eyes open as I braced myself for an immediate attack.

The junction console hadn’t suggested the portal was in any danger of being revealed, but I hadn’t lived as long as I had without taking due care.

The moment I breached the portal, I jammed the kinetic brace, stopping our motion dead and bleeding the kinetic overflow into the batteries, and spun off of the jetbike, drawing my razorflail in one hand and Rue, one of my splinter pistols, in the other.

Catacombs surrounded me, musty and ancient, and there was no telltale stink of death that might have announced the presence of either Mon-Keigh nor the slavering Ork. Instead, it was just dust and the dead, and I found myself feeling a touch disappointed and how quiet it was, but I suppose I was here to find my own amusement, not have it handed to me.

With a few motions, I shut off the jetbike and closed the portal. If this place was not suitable for my death then I would need it to find another, although I wouldn’t have the benefit of a junction.

Wandering wasn’t such a poor way of finding death, though, I supposed.

With more effort than I would have wanted to expend, I managed to maneuver the jetbike through the catacombs, until I eventually reached the psyshielded portal that had kept it hidden from the Mon-Keigh infesting this planet for all these years. It took better than three hours to traverse the cave system that existed beyond the shield and the Portal, and by that point I was growing exceedingly restless.

The Ork assault had begun only days ago, and every hour that passed was an hour I had not been permitted to kill something. I had already secured my weapons back to my waist, and found myself hoping some enterprising Ork had thought to examine these caves just so I could kill them, or perhaps a gaggle of fleeing human refugees.

It wouldn’t be a satisfying kill, but I wasn’t going to be choosy for now.

No such fortune found me.

I emerged from the cave another hour later, irritated and pent up. The cavern mouth terminated at the summit of a half-carved mountain. The air was cold, thin, and tasted of the pollutant stink of the Hive below it.

The Hive sprawled like an open sore in the planet’s flesh, burning and heaving as Orks fell upon it with abandon. The one thing I could say in all honesty that I truly loved about Orks and Humans was this… they repopulated so quickly that I would never run out of things to kill.

It would take me a few more hours to reach the city, and it galled me, but I would get there and I would find my purpose. I could feel the thrumming psychic shriek that surrounded the city, the delicious ache of so many horrific deaths.

Well, at least I wouldn’t go hungry while I was here.

I mounted the jetbike again and engaged the engine. This renewal of purpose was invigorating, and as I leaned in to engage the thrusters I wondered what my death here would be like.

Dying to a massive crush of Orks was appealing in a certain sense of things. It was a truly unworthy and hideously inglorious way to die, and that did tickle my fancy. On the other hand, dying after a prolonged fight with whatever Warboss led this particular WAAAGH would be far more personally satisfying; I was an artist and warrior and the appeal of a final fight was a temptation I wasn’t sure I wanted to resist.

Dropping dead of exhaustion after months of endless, grueling bloodshed was another option.

My cup truly overfloweth.

This was the right decision, I was certain of it.