At once opposed but at the same time intrinsically linked with the physical universe, the Warp is a realm of nightmares, full of the mad laughing of incurably demented gods who scheme in ways too arcane and convoluted to even begin to comprehend. To say that the Warp, and the inhabitants within it, are opposite to the Great Devourer could be well-stated. The Devourer is single-minded, single-focused, and weaves every available thread of thought into fulfilling, in some way, its ultimate and clear goal – survival. But the Warp...the Warp is endlessly complicated, full of ten billion interweaving and conflicting goals and plans, where every entity is both linked to everything else and, at the same time, totally on its own. Who could begin to guess how two such entities would regard each other?

The Devourer sees Chaos, and it sees nothing.

Chaos has always existed, in one way or another, and for the Devourer Chaos is not a force, an entity – it is a fact of life, as intrinsic as death and life. The Devourer simply cannot, even thought it might have once deep within the far, far past, when it wasn't, but was something else. Chaos was as intrinsic as life, as intrinsic as death, and in the end merely another fact of existence, something to be accounted for and overcome in the constant search for survival.

On thousands of worlds, Chaos Space Marines and the Lost and the Damned praise unholy chants to their chosen gods as they fight against the Tyranid hive swarm. Daemon hordes swarm out of debased portals and fall upon the reciprocating Hive Fleet masses. There is no thoughts of salvation, no horror or fear or terror – simply sheer rage and hatred and feeding all around.

But to the Devourer, such things are of little interest – in the end, biomass is biomass no matter whether it comes from warp spawn or tainted flesh. And, as with all things Chaos, there is no unity – none in truth, and none to the Devourer. It registers Chaos as nothing, for how can an entity recognize another when there is none in the first place? Instead, all encounters are swept under the notice of the Devourer, registered only as the natural process of survival.

Even the one sign of Chaos – the lack of soul that prevents the Devourer from gaining any memories or experience from the beings it destroys – goes unnoticed, for the Galaxy is not alone. Chaos is omnipresent, and wherever the Devourer has gone, it has fed on beings tainted by the Chaos unnoticed since it existed. It is simply an accepted fact, and unnoticed by the calculating Devourer.

That is not to say that Chaos is incapable of effecting the Devourer, for it tries. It certainly tries to, infecting the Devourer with a tainted and corrupt virus of the soul every time it meets in battle. But a virus is only good if the immune system cannot handle it, and the Devourer has thrived on not merely attacking...but sucking in viral attackers.

As such, the forces of Chaos seep in – and are taken apart and re-digested in turn. Tzeentchian energies are torn from their holy origins, mutated and warped past recognition to fuel the Devourer's adaptation process. Slannesh's whispers fall on deaf ears, and her illusions are strained and wrung into new stealth mechanisms. Nurgle's diseases are churned into an endless cycle of adaptation and induction into the Tyrannic weaponry stores. And, as Chaos fights even harder, the Devourer does what it does best – survive.

The Devourer sees Chaos, and it sees nothing.

The Devourer ignores Chaos, and grows stronger from its attacks.