《Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan》


 Chapter 1 - Horus Betrayal

    When lightning struck, it rippled through space and time, causing a faint vibration that went unnoticed by any machine. In that fleeting moment, an unlucky student was caught in its path, and their soul was swept into the narrow rift created by the lightning.


    Joe was struck down, his life abruptly ended. Yet, his soul slipped through the fragile seam between dimensions, traversing the gap of space and time to arrive in another world. His journey was beyond comprehension, a chaotic blur akin to being torn from reality itself.


    But Joe tale was only one fragment of the storm. Far beyond the bounds of his new existence, a betrayal of unimaginable proportions unfolded. When the news first broke, no one believed it. It was like thunder without rain, a distant, impossible sound.


    That disbelief shattered when the weapons of former allies roared, their aim turned toward the heart of mankind¡ªEarth itself. Only then did they understand the unthinkable had happened: Warmaster Horus had betrayed the Holy Emperor.


    For those who heard it, the betrayal was a scar on their souls. Horus was not just any leader; he was the most trusted of the Emperor¡¯s children. During the Great Crusade, it was he who carried the Emperor¡¯s banner, bringing victory after victory to the Empire. His name was synonymous with triumph, his loyalty seemingly unshakable. Yet now, that same name struck fear and fury into the hearts of those who once praised it.


    Horus¡¯s treachery wasn¡¯t a solitary act. Half of the Emperor¡¯s elite Space Marines, once paragons of loyalty and honor, turned their backs on humanity. Corrupted by the whispers of Chaos, their souls were twisted into instruments of destruction. They turned their formidable guns, once used to protect humanity, toward its annihilation. They marched under Horus¡¯s banner with one goal: to kill the Emperor and destroy the human race.


    The betrayal was obscene. These warriors had been the pride of humanity, the Emperor¡¯s finest. They sailed across the galaxy on starships, landing on alien worlds to crush brutal xenos and bloodthirsty abominations. They were the Emperor¡¯s blade, honed to perfection and wielded to carve out humanity¡¯s place in the stars. And now, that blade had turned against its master, aiming to pierce the heart of mankind.


    Amidst this chaos stood Kayvaan, a veteran of countless battles, his power armor bearing the scars of war. In his hands were ¡°Raven''s Talons,¡± lethal weapons integrated into his gauntlets. Sharp, electrified, and unyielding, they were extensions of his will. As he drove the claws into an enemy¡¯s helmet, blood sprayed out in a violent arc. A pulse of blue electricity crackled, reducing flesh and bone to ash. The smell of charred remains filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of blood.


    Kayvaan had seen it all before. Death had become a rhythm, as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. The bloodshed was relentless. The Empire¡¯s defenses were crumbling under Horus¡¯s relentless assault. The once-unthinkable had come to pass: the Warmaster¡¯s genius in warfare, once humanity¡¯s greatest asset, was now its doom.


    Horus¡¯s legions had reached Earth. The Emperor¡¯s palace was under siege, and humanity bled. Yet even as exhaustion pulled at his body, Kayvaan refused to yield. With a guttural roar, he kicked a corpse into the oncoming enemy ranks, sending bodies sprawling like broken puppets. His power armor hummed with energy as he surged forward, his claws carving through flesh and steel with brutal efficiency.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Blood mist filled the air as Kayvaan tore through his enemies. He moved like a shadow, swift and merciless, a reaper in ornate black armor. Each strike of the Raven''s Talons was precise, fatal. No foe could stand before him for more than a heartbeat. He was the Crow Guard¡¯s youngest killing master, second only to their leader in close combat. He was death incarnate, unflinching and unstoppable.


    But even his unmatched skill couldn¡¯t shift the tide. The battlefield was awash in chaos. Space Marines, who had once fought side by side, now slaughtered each other. The bonds of brotherhood forged over centuries had been twisted into hatred and betrayal. Horus¡¯s tactical brilliance was unmatched, and he wielded it like a scalpel to tear apart the Empire¡¯s defenses.


    The horrors didn¡¯t end with the traitorous Space Marines. Among the corpses and blood-soaked ground, the enemy performed their vile rituals. The air shimmered with unholy energy, and grotesque demons began to emerge. Mutated beasts, snarling and feral, charged into the fray alongside corrupted Space Marines, their howls blending into a cacophony of rage.


    Kayvaan Kael swung the Claw in swift, calculated arcs, cutting down enemies with precision. His calm demeanor masked the grim reality¡ªthere were simply too many foes. No matter how many he felled, the enemy seemed invincible, their numbers unending.


    The battle was going poorly. No, it was worse than that¡ªit was desperate. The Immortal Wall, their bastion of defense, faced relentless assaults. In the distance, the "Lion¡¯s Gate" spaceport had fallen almost instantly. The enemy had secured an ideal landing point, and now their forces poured in like an unrelenting tide. From the chaos, Kayvaan heard a familiar roar from afar: "Victory or death!" The cry was deep, powerful, and carried a mix of sorrow and resolve. It was the battle cry of his brothers in the Raven Regiment.


    The brothers who had fought shoulder to shoulder with him were reaching their limit. Their rallying cries weren¡¯t just words¡ªthey were declarations of defiance, meant to bolster their resolve in the face of annihilation. But deep down, everyone knew the truth. Victory was no longer within reach. All that remained was to face death with honor.


    The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos. Above, the skies were streaked with lines of light¡ªnot stars, but tracer rounds from countless anti-aircraft weapons firing relentlessly. The ground shook as these weapons launched torrents of ammunition skyward, weaving together a deadly rain that defied gravity, shooting from earth to sky.


    Beyond the clouds, the battle raged in space. The deafening booms from above were not thunder but the unending exchange of artillery fire between warships. High above Earth¡¯s orbit, fleets clashed in brutal combat, firing volley after volley in a merciless duel. Warship against warship, cannon against cannon¡ªthere was no finesse, only raw firepower. It was a contest of attrition, a brutal test of which side could endure longer.


    Explosions lit up the heavens as massive warships were torn apart, their shattered hulks descending toward the planet. These falling behemoths, burning as they entered the atmosphere, looked like enormous meteors streaking across the sky. Occasionally, a battered ship would steer its final descent into the enemy¡¯s positions. Inside one such doomed vessel, a helmsman, miraculously still alive, shouted one last time, "For the Emperor!" before slamming into the enemy ranks.


    Even such acts of heroism could not turn the tide. The enemy surged forward like a tidal wave, overwhelming all resistance. Despair loomed large as Kayvaan fought his way toward the source of the earlier battle cries. He hoped to reach his brothers, to aid them, even if only a few remained. But pushing forward through a sea of enemies felt like swimming against a river of blood. Soon, the cries fell silent. When he finally glanced toward their source, his fears were confirmed¡ªhis brothers had fallen.

 Chapter 2 - Primarch Sanguinius

    Kayvan felt no sadness, only pride. They had died gloriously, fighting for the Emperor¡ªa death worth honoring. He knew his turn would come soon. For the Raven Guard, there was no retreat. If victory was impossible, then death was their only fate.


    Suddenly, the ground trembled violently. In the distance, a towering figure emerged from the enemy ranks, an immense machine that radiated despair. Kayvan''s heart sank. He recognized it immediately. The Titan. Once the most fearsome weapon of the Empire, it had become a symbol of betrayal. The Emperor¡¯s Hammer, now turned against his loyal soldiers.


    Kayvan sighed deeply. "Damn it. It''s a Titan!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Fall back! Ravens, retreat and reform the line a hundred meters back! Little Alen, call for heavy weapon support! Protect the Emperor at all costs! May the Emperor bless us!"


    His brothers echoed his cry, "May the Emperor bless us!" Their voices carried determination, but the Titan¡¯s shadow loomed ever closer.


    The Titan was a monstrosity. Standing well over 14 meters tall, its hunchbacked frame moved like an ancient, mechanical giant. Its weapons¡ªmassive Vulcan bolters¡ªjutted from its shoulders, each barrel larger than the average soldier. As it advanced, its arsenal unleashed a storm of firepower that tore through everything in its path.


    The ground erupted beneath the relentless barrage. Solid earth rippled like water under the Titan¡¯s devastating assault. Chariots, artillery, and bunkers were obliterated, flung into the air like discarded toys. The defense line disintegrated in moments, reduced to smoldering ruins.


    The Titan was a relic from humanity''s golden age, the pinnacle of military engineering. Now, it was the harbinger of despair. Its towering frame seemed invincible, its firepower unstoppable. It crushed all resistance beneath its mechanical feet and rained death from above with ruthless efficiency.


    Kayvan Shrike made his decision in an instant. ¡°For the Emperor!¡± he roared, dragging his claws as he charged at the towering Titan.


    At that moment, the deep thuds of mortars echoed across the battlefield. Kayvan¡¯s call had worked; the artillery in the rear had finally taken notice of the massive Titan. Shells shrieked through the air, crashing into the mechanical colossus. Explosions erupted, filling the sky with fire and thunder. But the devastation was absorbed by an invisible barrier surrounding the Titan¡ªa void shield.


    ¡°Damn it, it¡¯s a void shield! Keep firing¡ªdrain its energy!¡± someone shouted over the comms. Titans, relics of humanity¡¯s golden age, weren¡¯t just weapons; they were fortresses on legs. With layers of heavy armor and a void shield¡ªthe kind of advanced energy barrier usually reserved for Imperial Navy warships¡ªTitans were nearly invincible. For ground forces, encountering one was akin to facing a walking nightmare.


    Despite the barrage, the Titan remained unscathed. The artillery crews, unwilling to waste all their munitions in one place, began shifting their aim beyond the massive machine, leaving it unharmed.


    But Kayvan didn¡¯t stop. He dashed forward at full speed, leaping onto an enemy soldier who tried to block his path. With the sheer power of his Terminator armor and his enhanced body, Kayvan drove the man¡¯s head into his chest with a single stomp. Using the momentum, he pushed off the mangled body, soaring higher. This time, he reached the Titan¡¯s waist.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Seizing the opportunity, Kayvan jammed his Raven''s Talons into the Titan¡¯s armor, clinging to it like a steel insect on a giant.


    The enemy commander¡¯s voice blared angrily through the comms, and within seconds, all nearby guns turned their attention to Kayvan. A hailstorm of explosive rounds and energy beams rained down, the sky lit with destructive power. ¡°Lord Shrike, watch out!¡± Selena¡¯s panicked voice crackled over the channel.


    Yet Kayvan remained calm. The Titan¡¯s own void shield flared to life, blocking the incoming fire. It was almost ironic¡ªthe shield meant to protect the Titan was now shielding him instead.


    ¡°It¡¯s the void shield,¡± Alen murmured, watching the scene in disbelief. For a moment, he¡¯d thought his captain was doomed, but then it hit him. Of course, the void shield didn¡¯t distinguish between friend or foe. It simply repelled anything that threatened the Titan.


    Kayvan kept climbing, undeterred. His Raven''s Talons flashed faintly with energy as he drove them into the armor, pulling himself upward, one hand at a time. Step by step, he scaled the giant machine. He reached the Titan¡¯s hunched head, where its control cabin was housed.


    With ease, Kayvan cut into the armor, peeling back the control cabin¡¯s shell like the rind of a fruit. Inside, three terrified faces stared back at him. ¡°H-how is this possible?!¡± the enemy stammered, his voice trembling.


    Kayvan didn¡¯t give him a chance to say more. He lunged into the cabin, his claws flashing. In an instant, the occupants were reduced to mangled remains.


    From her position on the ground, Selena watched in stunned silence as the massive Titan froze in place. ¡°It stopped¡­ it¡¯s down!¡± she gasped.


    Without its pilot, the Titan became a lifeless hulk¡ªa monument to its former power. The battlefield erupted with cheers. Kayvan''s single-handed takedown of the Titan sent a wave of hope and exhilaration through the ranks. But the celebration was short-lived. The ground trembled. A low, ominous rumble grew louder with every passing second.


    Emerging from the smoke on the horizon were more Titans, their colossal forms blotting out the sky. They advanced in a slow, relentless line, each step shaking the earth like a drumbeat of despair. ¡°One, two¡­ eleven, twelve¡­ there are too many,¡± Alen whispered, his voice trembling. ¡°This¡­ this is impossible. We can¡¯t stop them.¡±


    Kayvan stood on the shoulder of the Titan he had just killed, gazing silently at the approaching army. He couldn¡¯t blame Alen for being scared. The young man had been his apprentice for five years, and Kayvan knew him well. Alen was no coward. He had the heart of a warrior, determined and unyielding. But even the bravest could falter in the face of such overwhelming odds.


    Victory was no longer possible. All that remained was the chance for an honorable death. Kayvan sighed, bracing himself for what was to come. Before he could act, a voice cut through the battlefield like a divine proclamation. ¡°Warriors, you have fought valiantly. I have seen your courage, your strength. On behalf of the Emperor, I thank you. You have done enough. Now, step back. Leave the rest to me.¡±


    The voice came from the outer wall, where the massive Gate stood. A figure stepped forward, noble and radiant, like a god descending from the heavens. Every soldier on the battlefield knew who it was. Sanguinius, the angelic primarch, stood tall, his presence alone igniting hope in their hearts.


    Sanguinius stood at the center of the battlefield like a radiant beacon, his golden armor gleaming even in the shadows cast by the chaos around him. Behind him, a pair of immaculate white wings spread wide, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. He gripped a massive sword, its edge reflecting the light of the blood-red skies, and stood proudly before the colossal Satan¡¯s Gate. His chin lifted slightly as he gazed at the overwhelming horde of enemies, his expression calm yet disdainful. It wasn¡¯t arrogance¡ªit was the quiet confidence of a warrior who knew his enemies were unworthy. These were oath-breakers and traitors, beings who had abandoned their beliefs. To Sanguinius, they deserved no respect.

 Chapter 3 - Joe & Kayvaan

    The tide of the battle had turned the moment he arrived. The Emperor¡¯s legions, who had been on the verge of collapse, rallied under his presence. The soldiers stationed on the outer walls began retreating into the fortress in an orderly fashion, regaining their composure and discipline. As the fortress gates creaked shut, Sanguinius stood alone before them, a solitary figure against an ocean of foes.


    He held the line, his sword carving through demons and Chaos warriors alike. No enemy could stand against him for even a moment. With each swing of his blood-streaked blade, waves of foes fell. His white wings beat powerfully, sending gusts of wind that scattered debris and smoke. As golden light spilled from his feathers, it swept over the battlefield like sacred dust. Those touched by its glow¡ªwhether corrupted spirits or mortal traitors¡ªburst into holy flames, their screams lost amidst the cacophony of war. Enemy ranks disintegrated into writhing torches before they could even approach him.


    Sanguinius wielded his sword with effortless grace, often using only one hand. The blade shimmered with an eternal golden light, untarnished even by the blood of his foes. Each horizontal slash cleaved through enemies within a fifty-meter radius, the sheer force of his strikes cutting through air and armor alike. Yet no matter how many fell, more came, their corpses forming a grisly path as the next wave surged forward. Still, Sanguinius stood unyielding. The ground trembled under the weight of their numbers, but he held firm, a singular force defying countless adversaries.


    Unseen amidst the chaos, Kayvaan fought alongside him. Clad in black Terminator armor, moved like a shadow among the enemy ranks. If Sanguinius was the blinding sun, Kayvan was the silent specter cast by its light. Using Sanguinius as a distraction, he darted through the chaos unnoticed, his movements precise and calculated. His claws struck without warning, each kill swift and lethal. The enemy only became aware of his presence when it was too late¡ªwhen his blades had already pierced their throats or hearts.


    While Sanguinius tore through the enemy head-on, Kayvan hunted those who posed a genuine threat. He targeted powerful demons and infamous traitors, eliminating them before they could reach Sanguinius. Though the Primarch could handle such adversaries, Kayvan''s intervention spared him the effort, allowing Sanguinius to focus on holding the line. These key eliminations sowed disarray among the enemy forces, leaving them leaderless and disorganized. Chaos erupted within their ranks, their blind aggression turning them into fodder for the fortress¡¯s cannons and crossfire.


    Above the din of battle, Sanguinius smiled faintly. The golden light radiating from his armor grew even brighter, drawing the gaze of friend and foe alike. Under his radiant cover, Kayvan moved even faster, striking with relentless efficiency. He disrupted enemy formations, assassinated commanders, and crushed their attempts at organization. As a result, the assault became a disjointed mess. Demons and traitors alike were cut down by the fortress¡¯s defenses or shredded by Sanguinius¡¯s unrelenting blade.


    The tide began to turn. Cannons roared from the fortress, halting the advance of the enemy¡¯s Titan legions. The combined efforts of Sanguinius and Kayvan bought the Emperor¡¯s forces precious time. For an entire hour, the pair stood against the overwhelming horde, holding Satan¡¯s Gate without faltering. Only when the fortress¡¯s gates finally closed behind them did Sanguinius lower his sword. He turned to the sealed gate, smiling softly. "The battle is far from over," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Rest, my warriors. The war has only just begun."Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    As Sanguinius turned to retreat into the fortress, a sudden beam of light pierced the battlefield. It streaked across the chaos, cutting through flesh, metal, and stone with terrifying precision. Sensing the danger, Sanguinius turned, his wings flaring as he tried to evade. But in that instant, a powerful force seized him, locking his body in place. A malevolent will coiled around him, paralyzing him with its sheer presence.


    The beam surged toward him, unstoppable and deadly. Yet before it could strike, a shadow leaped into its path. Kayvan, without hesitation, placed himself between the attack and his Primarch. The beam struck him directly, the force of it tearing into his armor and raking across his soul. Pain unlike anything he had ever known flooded his senses, but he did not falter.


    For a fleeting moment, Kayvan''s vision blurred. He felt something cold and invasive seep into his body, a dark force threatening to consume him from within. Yet even in his agony, he stood firm, his sacrifice a testament to his unyielding loyalty. "Victory, victory, or... or..." Those were the last words Joe said, his voice trembling with confusion, leaving Sanguinius utterly baffled.


    On the other side of the battlefield, Horus slowly lowered his hand, his face dark with frustration. This curse¡ªguaranteed to strike its intended target¡ªhad somehow rebounded, hitting an unintended bystander instead. The misfire forced him to make minor adjustments to the grand plan he had so carefully crafted. Yet, after a moment of seething silence, a sly smile carved its way across his face, as flawless as marble. Perhaps this was fate''s way of proving his supremacy. Maybe destiny itself was paving the path to show that Horus was not only more powerful but also a more perfect existence than the Emperor.


    Meanwhile, in an entirely different space. Kayvan sat on a cold metal chair, his stern gaze locked on the young man before him. His expression held a mix of suspicion and faint irritation. "Have you seen enough?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.


    Standing across from him was Joe, a regular teenager from Earth. He wore light blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His posture was stiff, his gaze darting nervously around the strange environment. The towering man¡¯s question caught him off guard, but he managed a stammered reply. "W-where am I? What were those things I just saw?"


    "Calm down, young man," Kayvan said, his voice steady, carrying a hoarse but reassuring weight. "This is the first lesson I¡¯ll teach you. Don¡¯t panic. Stay composed. If there¡¯s a problem, solve it one step at a time."


    Joe closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again, determined to make sense of the situation. The room remained the same¡ªan enormous, otherworldly library. Towering bookcases stretched endlessly into the sky and outward in all directions, creating a maze of ancient knowledge. At the heart of it all stood a simple steel chair occupied by the imposing figure of Kayvan. Even sitting down, Kayvan was impossibly tall, at least three meters in height. He dwarfed the tallest NBA players Joe had ever seen on TV.


    "Alright," Joe said cautiously, steadying his voice. "No panicking. Let¡¯s start with the basics. Who are you?"


    "I am Kayvan," the giant man replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "A captain for the Raven Guard and a loyal servant of the Emperor." His gaze sharpened, his expression a mix of approval and critique. "You¡¯re quick to regain composure. Impressive¡ªfor an ordinary person. But as a soldier? You¡¯d be woefully inadequate."


    Joe furrowed his brow. "I don¡¯t understand half of what you¡¯re saying, but fine. Next question¡ªwhere am I, and how do I get home?"

 Chapter 4 - Study Hard

    "You¡¯re in my consciousness," Kayvan explained, gesturing with one massive hand. The air shimmered, and suddenly, the world transformed. In the blink of an eye, the maze of books became a vast expanse of stars. A moment later, they stood in an ancient castle surrounded by stone walls and flickering torches. Just as quickly, they returned to the library.


    Joe¡¯s mouth hung open in shock. His breath hitched as he tried to process what had just happened. "This¡­ this is insane! It¡¯s like The Matrix! Are we in some kind of simulation?"


    "Don¡¯t compare this to that shallow, overrated story," Kayvan said with a scoff. "Everything you¡¯ve seen is real¡ªnot a computer-generated illusion. You are in my mind, within my spiritual world."


    Joe blinked. "Wait, you know about The Matrix? How do you even know that? Aren¡¯t you¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ not from Earth? For a second there, I thought I¡¯d been teleported to some other dimension or something. But if you know about The Matrix, then¡ªthank God¡ªI¡¯m still on Earth, right?"


    Kayvan¡¯s expression softened into a faint smirk. "If you define Earth strictly by its name, then yes, we are on Earth. But this is not the Earth you remember. In your terms, you could say you¡¯ve¡­ traveled. This world is entirely different from the one you knew."


    Joe''s eyes widened. "Wait, what? If this isn¡¯t my Earth, how do you know about The Matrix? What, do Hollywood movies broadcast across dimensions or something?"


    Kayvan let out a low chuckle. "Do you think you¡¯ve only been here for a few moments? To you, it might feel like you simply blacked out and woke up in my mind. But in reality, you¡¯ve been here for thousands of years. I¡¯ve had plenty of time to study your memories. By the 300th year, I was bored enough to sift through everything in your head. I know everything you know¡ªright down to the trivial details you¡¯ve long forgotten."


    Joe staggered back a step, his face pale. "You¡­ you¡¯ve looked through my memories?" The thought was horrifying. It felt like standing naked in front of a crowd, utterly exposed. "So you¡­ you know everything about me?"


    Kayvan leaned forward slightly, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow. "Everything. I know your origins, the peaceful world you came from. I know about your mundane but precious life. But don¡¯t feel singled out¡ªour souls are intertwined now. Just as you have no secrets from me, I have none from you."


    Joe''s mind raced, grasping for something familiar to ground himself. "Wait," he said suddenly, "what about that battle I saw earlier? What was that all about?"


    Kayvan¡¯s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, that¡­ was just the beginning."


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re talking about the Battle of the Outer Wall,¡± Joe said, frowning as he finished speaking. The words had come out naturally, almost instinctively, even though he had no idea what the Battle of the Outer Wall was. It felt like the phrase had surfaced from a place he couldn¡¯t explain.


    ¡°Yes, the Battle of the Outer Wall,¡± Kayvan confirmed, his massive figure looming like a mountain. ¡°It¡¯s a good sign that you know those words. It seems you¡¯re starting to tap into my memories, even if you don¡¯t realize it yet. That battle was the last one I ever fought. What you saw in your visions wasn¡¯t a movie or some ridiculous dream¡ªit was real. That battle actually happened. In it, I fought to protect Sanguinius from a powerful attack.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I know,¡± Joe replied, his voice subdued. ¡°I saw it¡ªor, no, it¡¯s more than that. I felt it.¡± He rubbed his temple, trying to explain. ¡°The word ¡®saw¡¯ doesn¡¯t even begin to describe it. It was like I became you, like I was standing on that battlefield as Kayvan. Every moment, every sensation, was so vivid. I don¡¯t just remember it¡ªI understand it, down to my core.¡± He hesitated, then asked, ¡°Sanguinius... was he your friend? Why would you go so far as to shield him with your body? Even your life?¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s expression softened, though his tone remained calm. ¡°No, there was no friendship between us. Sanguinius and I served the Empire in entirely different capacities. We never spoke, never met before that battle. I only knew of him by reputation¡ªa glorious name, nothing more.¡±


    Joe furrowed his brow, struggling to understand. ¡°Then why? Why sacrifice yourself for someone you didn¡¯t even know?¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile as he explained, ¡°Because he was extraordinary. Sanguinius was not just powerful; he was the most powerful warrior of the Empire. Protecting him wasn¡¯t about personal connection¡ªit was about ensuring that he could protect the Emperor. My role in that moment wasn¡¯t to survive; it was to guarantee that the Empire¡¯s most valuable defender could continue to fight.¡±


    Joe blinked, astonished. ¡°That¡¯s it? Just that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Kayvan said, shaking his head at Joe''s incredulous expression. ¡°You look like you can¡¯t believe it, but understand this: the battle we fought wasn¡¯t one where survival was guaranteed. By the end, those who lived likely owed their fate more to luck than skill. But don¡¯t interrupt me now¡ªlisten carefully. At the climax of that battle, I was struck by a powerful force. It wasn¡¯t something of this world. It was a curse, a manifestation of evil from subspace¡ªa kind of dark magic, if you will. And somehow, your soul was carried into my body along with that cursed energy.¡±


    Joe''s mind flashed back to the battlefield memory, recalling the moment Kayvan had stepped in front of Sanguinius, shielding him from a fatal beam of energy. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re saying I followed that beam of light and ended up inside your body?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kayvan confirmed with a solemn nod. ¡°At first, I thought you were some trick of the enemy¡ªmaybe even a new and terrifying weapon. After all, you came into me riding on the very force that cursed me. I waited for you to wake up, planning to face you in a battle of will and soul to see who would triumph. But¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°You slept. And you slept too long. By the 300th year, I¡¯d grown bored. I started digging through your memories and realized you weren¡¯t some enemy trick. You were just an unlucky victim. An ordinary person from another dimension, caught up in events you couldn¡¯t control.¡±


    Joe''s mouth felt dry. ¡°I see¡­ So now that I¡¯m awake, what happens next?¡±


    Kayvan leaned forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over Joe. ¡°Now, it¡¯s not about what you and I want to do. It¡¯s about what must be done. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t harm you. Instead, I¡¯ll teach you. I¡¯ll teach you everything I know. You¡¯ll have to study hard and give it your all¡ªbecause your survival depends on it.¡±


    Joe frowned, confused. ¡°I don¡¯t think I follow.¡±


    ¡°The curse that hit me in the Battle of the Outer Wall didn¡¯t just wound me,¡± Kayvan explained. ¡°It trapped my soul inside my body. I can¡¯t die, but I¡¯m not alive either. My body is a cage for my soul, and the efforts of my comrades to save me only prolonged this cursed existence. Over time, my soul will weaken until it¡¯s gone. When that happens, you¡ª¡± he pointed at Joe. ¡°¡ªwill be the only one left in this body. I don¡¯t know what that means for you. Will you be imprisoned here, unable to act? Or will you wake fully, taking over? Either way, it¡¯s not something you should look forward to.¡±

 Chapter 5 - A Curse?

    Joe rubbed his forehead, his thoughts jumbled. ¡°So¡­ let me get this straight. You¡¯re saying you¡¯re going to die, and I¡¯ll take over your body. And you¡¯re teaching me now so I can carry on in your place? Serve your Emperor or whatever?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°But no matter what happens, you¡¯re saying it¡¯s a bad deal for me? Whether I stay trapped or end up serving your Emperor, it¡¯s all unfortunate?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just an Emperor as you imagine him,¡± Kayvan said firmly. ¡°Not some mortal ruler sitting on a throne. The Emperor of Mankind is our savior, our leader, our prophet. His power surpasses all gods. Without Him, humanity would never have risen to its current heights. The galaxy would have consumed us long ago. It¡¯s because of the God-Emperor that humanity still stands.¡±


    Joe shrugged, unconvinced. ¡°Alright, our Emperor then. I get it. But back to my question: why would serving Him be just as unlucky as being trapped?¡±


    "This is no easy task," Kayvan said with a weary but prideful smile etched on his face. "If you venture out in the future, you''ll understand. As an Adeptus Astartes (space marines), we are powerful, perfect, and granted eternal life¡ªbut such gifts come with great sacrifices."


    Joe froze, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Are you serious? Why should I follow your orders like some puppet?"


    Kayvan¡¯s smile vanished, replaced by a chilling calmness. "Because you¡¯re an outsider. You need to understand that with a mere thought, I could make you disappear in unimaginable agony." With that, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, Joe crumpled to the ground, his body convulsing as excruciating pain tore through him.


    "I can make you feel torment beyond your wildest nightmares," Kayvan said coldly, watching Joe writhe. "So, it would be wise to learn respect and obedience. Now, get up. You''ve already squandered a thousand years; there''s no time left to waste! Your first task is to read every book in this hall."


    _________________________


    Meanwhile outside, "How could this happen?" Alen¡¯s voice trembled as he stared in disbelief at the silver coffin before him. His captain , the one he had revered above all, now lay within it¡ªa shadow of his former self. Anger surged through him, burning hot in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I need an explanation¡ªone that makes sense. Otherwise..."


    The servant standing nearby trembled visibly, his mechanical arm rattling against his side. "I-I don¡¯t know either. This is... bizarre. The lord shouldn''t have changed after being placed in the altar, but... Please wait a moment. This might have happened before the rebellion. I''m just a new servant, sir. I¡¯ll need to check the records."


    Before the servant could move, an elderly man stepped out from the shadows of the hall. "No need, Corida. You''re not authorized to access those records," the man said, his voice steady but firm. He waved a dismissive hand, and Corida quickly retreated. The old man approached Alen, bowing slightly as a sign of respect. "Lord Alen, I am Eustace, Priest of the The Sanctum of the Honored Dead. I oversee everything here. How may I assist you?"


    Alen¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the coffin. "I want to know what happened to the person lying inside. How did he end up like this?"Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Eustace glanced briefly at the identification number on the silver coffin. "May I ask your connection to the lord in question?"


    Alen didn¡¯t hesitate. "He was my captain. He always will be."


    Understanding dawned on the priest¡¯s face. He let his gaze drift to the chest of Alen¡¯s armor, adorned with medals that gleamed in the hall¡¯s soft light: the Chaos Hunter Medal, Angel of Death Medal, Hellfire Silver Medal. Each one represented extraordinary feats¡ªvictories against insurmountable odds, triumphs in legendary battles, and countless foes vanquished. It was no wonder the servant had quaked in the presence of such a figure.


    "If your captain could see what you¡¯ve become, he would be proud," Eustace said softly. "But I must ask you to temper your anger and lower your voice. This is the The Sanctum of the Honored Dead, after all."


    Alen nodded, fully aware of the solemnity and unyielding rules that governed this sanctified space. The Sanctum of the Honored Dead was no ordinary hall¡ªit was a sacred reliquary of the Chapter¡¯s most revered heroes, those who had given everything in service to the Emperor. These were warriors who had slain xenos lords, turned the tide of impossible battles, or laid down their lives in acts of supreme sacrifice.


    The remains of these heroes lay interred in ceramite sarcophagi, their surfaces adorned with purity seals, etched litanies, and the sigils of their Chapter. The walls of the hall stretched into shadowed infinity, each recess containing a crypt illuminated by the dim glow of flickering votive candles. Some sarcophagi bore the honored Crux Terminatus, signifying those who had once donned Terminator armor. Others were marked with the laurels of champions or the battle honors of campaigns long past.


    For these heroes, death was inevitable¡ªwhether from incurable diseases or fatal wounds¡ªbut their loss was too great for the Empire to bear. Their talents, their wisdom, and even their genes were treasures that the Empire could not afford to lose. Thus, the The Sanctum of the Honored Dead was established. These coffins weren¡¯t mere resting places; they were advanced stasis chambers connected to a colossal temporal stabilizer. Time flowed so slowly for the occupants that they were nearly frozen in an eternal sleep. The hope was that one day, when the Empire¡¯s technology advanced far enough, these heroes could be revived and restored.


    Eustace pulled out a data tablet, its surface lighting up with glowing text and symbols. He scanned the information carefully before speaking again. "You have the right to know about your captain¡¯s condition. However, I must warn you that this involves highly classified information. It is one of the Empire¡¯s most closely guarded secrets. I trust you understand the importance of discretion."


    Alen¡¯s expression hardened. "I understand."


    "Good." Eustace tapped the tablet, bringing up a specific document. He held it out toward Alen. "Take a look here¡ªpay close attention to this signature."


    Alen''s gaze followed Eustace''s pointing finger, and his jaw dropped instantly. He stood frozen, his mouth agape for what felt like an eternity. This battle-hardened hero, who had once stood unshaken against hundreds of Chaos soldiers, now wore an expression he had not shown in thousands of years¡ªpure, unfiltered astonishment.


    The sight left Alen speechless.


    The Priest waited patiently, allowing Alen a moment to collect himself. Once Alen regained some composure, the priest continued, his tone grave yet steady. ¡°What you see before you is an autographed photo of His Majesty, the Great Emperor. I trust you understand the weight of this revelation. Your captain, the revered Sir Kayvan, was personally examined by the Emperor himself. It was His Omniscient Majesty who revealed that what your captain suffered was not merely an ordinary wound but a curse of the most sinister kind.¡±


    ¡°A curse?¡± Alen''s voice trembled slightly as the word sent a chill through him. He struggled to process what he had just heard. ¡°I-I don¡¯t understand. I was with my captain on the battlefield during that campaign. Afterward, they told me he was gravely injured, but no one ever mentioned a curse.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Slaanesh

    ¡°That¡¯s because such knowledge was classified,¡± Eustace explained, his tone patient yet firm. ¡°The information had a strict time lock. Fifty years ago, you wouldn¡¯t have had the clearance to know about this. But times have changed.¡± As he spoke, Eustace tapped the panel in his hand. The silver coffin in front of them began to rise slowly, its shimmering surface shifting and transforming until it became transparent like glass. Inside, Sir Kayvan Shrike¡¯s body was now fully visible, displayed in unsettling clarity.


    ¡°Look closely,¡± Eustace said, gesturing toward the body. ¡°Since his remains were entrusted to the The Sanctum, some changes have occurred. However, one thing remains consistent¡ªthere are no visible external injuries on his body. What felled Sir Kayvan Shrike was neither blood loss nor any terminal disease. Not an ordinary attack either. In fact, the scars from his many battles, the ones that once adorned his body, are fading away. What you see now is a body so smooth and unblemished, it could belong to an idle noble rather than a warrior of countless battles. And perhaps most troubling of all, his body has been¡­ shrinking over the past millennium.¡±


    ¡°Shrinking?¡± Alen echoed in disbelief. The word sounded absurd, but looking at the figure in the transparent coffin, he had to admit it was an apt description.


    Kayvan Shrike had once been a tall figure, standing at an imposing 3.1 meters tall. This giant-like stature was standard among the Space Marines, where even the smallest scouts were over 2.3 meters tall. The Space Marines were more than just soldiers¡ªthey were living weapons, engineered for war. Each Marine underwent brutal genetic enhancements and nineteen major surgeries. Their bones became as hard as steel; they were equipped with three lungs for enhanced oxygen capacity, two hearts for greater stamina, and even two stomachs capable of digesting poisonous or irradiated food. Beneath their skin lay a subdermal carapace tougher than Earth-made body armor.


    These warriors were built to endure the harshest conditions in the galaxy. Yet now, her old captain¡ªthe most formidable fighter of the Raven Guard, Master of Shadows, a legend in close combat¡ªwas reduced to this frail state. Kayvan Shrike¡¯s once-scarred body, a testament to his countless victories, had become eerily smooth. It was like the canvas of his life had been wiped clean, his glorious scars replaced by an unsettling perfection. ¡°He¡¯s barely two meters tall now,¡± Alen whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The transformation was both disturbing and heartbreaking.


    "During the Great Rebellion a thousand years ago, Warmaster Horus succumbed to the temptations of the Chaos Gods and betrayed the Emperor. The four evil gods¡ªSlaanesh, Khorne, Tzeentch, and Nurgle¡ªbestowed their blessings and power upon him. Among these blessings were two devastating spells: one was a lethal curse aimed at Sanguinius, the Emperor¡¯s most perfect and powerful son. As long as Sanguinius stood, the Emperor¡¯s rule was unshakable. The second was a powerful curse intended for the Emperor himself.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "But fate did not favor Horus as much as he had hoped. At the most critical moment, your captain, Lord Kayvan Shrike, stepped forward and shielded Sanguinius with his own body. The curse from Slaanesh, which was supposed to strike Sanguinius, was deflected. We all know what followed.


    "Now that you understand this, you should recognize the magnitude of your captain¡¯s sacrifice. The survival of the Emperor¡ªand humanity itself¡ªrests heavily on what he endured. Without him, the outcome of the rebellion could have been very different."


    Alen was stunned, his mind racing. Of course, he knew the rest of the story. At the rebellion''s climax, the Emperor and Sanguinius had stormed Horus''s flagship. Sanguinius confronted Horus first but was struck down in a brutal battle, his perfect form broken by the Warmaster''s overwhelming psychic might. The Emperor, in turn, engaged Horus and ultimately emerged victorious, though at a great cost. Severely wounded, the Emperor had been confined to the Golden Throne ever since¡ªa life-support system that kept him alive but unable to fully recover.


    To this day, the Emperor remains bound to the Golden Throne, His undying will sustaining the Imperium at the cost of His own mortal shell. His state is a paradox¡ªtoo vital to the survival of humanity to lose, yet too broken to truly live. For the faithful, He is the God-Emperor, a divine beacon; for others, He is a reminder of the Imperium''s endless sacrifice. Even in deathless stasis, His light guides the galaxy, much like the relics of ancient saints enshrined in the Sanctum Sanctorum, revered yet forever entombed.


    Alen¡¯s heart ached at the thought. "If my captain hadn¡¯t stepped in, Sanguinius might have survived the curse, but the Emperor might not have. And with Horus standing before him, there¡¯s no telling how the battle would have ended."


    "But why," Alen hesitated, struggling to find the words, "why didn¡¯t my captain succumb to the curse like Sanguinius did? He wasn¡¯t¡­ twisted, or broken, or¡ª"


    "You¡¯re asking why he didn¡¯t meet the same fate," Eustace interrupted, his tone calm but grave. "Sanguinius was tortured to death by Khorne¡¯s curse, yet your captain lies here peacefully. Is that what you¡¯re wondering?"


    "Yes," Alen admitted awkwardly. "It¡¯s just¡­ it was a curse from an evil god. Even if my captain was incredibly strong, Sanguinius was the best of us, and even he couldn¡¯t endure Khorne¡¯s curse. How did my captain survive Slaanesh¡¯s?"


    Eustace sighed. "The curses came from different Chaos Gods, each with their own nature. Khorne is the god of violence and slaughter, and his power manifests as unrelenting pain and rage. Even Sanguinius, with all his strength, could not withstand it. Slaanesh, however, is the god of excess and corruption. Slaanesh¡¯s methods are more insidious, more subtle. Your captain didn¡¯t fall immediately, but make no mistake¡ªhe¡¯s not safe.


    "Slaanesh¡¯s curse transformed Lord Kayvan Shrike¡¯s body into a prison and his soul into its captive. The curse slowly weakens his physical form and corrodes his spirit. Even the stasis field preserving him cannot stop this process. One day, Lord Kayvan will either awaken briefly, only to succumb, or he will quietly pass away. Either way, the warrior he was will be no more."


    Alen¡¯s fists clenched, his voice trembling with anger. "That¡¯s despicable!" He could barely contain his rage. "Warriors like my captain¡ªlike all of us¡ªaren¡¯t afraid to die in battle. We welcome it. To die in combat, giving everything for the Emperor, is the ultimate honor. But to waste away in a bed, unable to fight¡­ that¡¯s a fate worse than death. It¡¯s a mockery of everything we stand for!"

 Chapter 7 - Different Of World

    Deep within Kayvan Shrike¡¯s spirit, a different scene played out. Joe sat in the ethereal world of pure thought, surrounded by shelves filled with Kayvan Shrike¡¯s memories. Here, every event of Kayvan¡¯s life existed as a book. Whenever Joe opened one, he opened a window into Kayvan¡¯s past.


    The human brain is a strange thing. Knowledge is never truly lost¡ªit¡¯s simply misplaced, hidden in the labyrinth of the mind. In this spiritual realm, Joe had access to it all.


    With nothing else to do in this timeless space, Joe spent his days reading. At first, he delved into books about the world and its history, driven by curiosity about this strange new place. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d ever wake up in Kayvan¡¯s body, but if he did, he wanted to understand the world he¡¯d find himself in.


    The books were written in beautiful but unfamiliar characters. Strangely, though he couldn¡¯t recognize the script, the knowledge flowed into him effortlessly, as if the words spoke directly to his soul. Each page revealed wonders, horrors, and complexities of a universe beyond his imagination. Through Kayvan¡¯s memories, Joe explored a new world¡ªand in doing so, began to see his own existence in a different light.


    If humanity in Joe''s original world was like a toddler just learning to walk, then in this world, humanity had matured into seasoned, middle-aged individuals, full of strength and resilience. In Joe''s world, human civilization had barely scratched the surface, boasting only 5,000 years of history. But here, humanity carried the weight of a staggering 40,000 years of existence. Such an overwhelming span of time, brimming with triumphs and tragedies, made Joe marvel at its gravity.


    In this world, humanity had once been the dominant force in the universe. During its golden age, humans unlocked the secrets of subspace navigation, enabling them to traverse vast distances at unimaginable speeds. Their colonies stretched across the stars, spreading the mark of humanity throughout the galaxy. Yet this golden age was short-lived. The universe soon revealed its horrors¡ªa catastrophic subspace storm swept across the galaxy, severing the vital pathways of interstellar travel.


    The storm shattered the grand human empire in an instant. Isolated colonies, cut off from civilization, began to regress. Some were absorbed into the native cultures of their host planets, while others simply vanished into the void, leaving no trace. The galaxy descended into chaos. Civil wars erupted, rebellions flared, alien invasions threatened their survival, and humanity teetered on the brink of extinction.


    Then, everything changed with the arrival of the Emperor. This marked the dawn of a new era, one of unity and resurgence. The Emperor, a figure of unparalleled charisma and power, united Earth under his rule and forged an alliance with the mechanical manipulators of Mars. The subspace storms subsided, and the pathways of interstellar travel reopened. Under the Emperor¡¯s guidance, humanity rebuilt its colonies and expanded its reach across the galaxy. The Light of the Stars, a marvel of engineering, illuminated humanity¡¯s rise. The Emperor created the Interstellar Legion, a force of extraordinary warriors, and led a two-hundred-year-long crusade to reunite humanity.


    It was a time of legends. Forgotten colonies were reclaimed, alien species were subjugated, and humanity¡¯s empire rose to heights unseen. The Emperor¡¯s victories were celebrated with grand triumphs on millions of planets. Marble and gold castles gleamed under alien suns, and monuments to his achievements towered over the galaxy¡¯s most exotic worlds. This was the new golden age, heralded by the Emperor''s vision and unyielding will.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    At the forefront of this age were the Primarchs¡ªthe Emperor¡¯s sons, crafted through unparalleled genetic experimentation. They were extraordinary beings, each the epitome of human potential. These Primarchs commanded the Space Marine Legions, elite warriors capable of defeating a hundred enemies each. Thousands of Space Marines marched under the banners of their respective Primarchs, waging war in the Emperor¡¯s name.


    Among them, Horus stood above the rest. Known as the Glorious One, the Shining Star, and the Emperor¡¯s Favorite, he was chosen to lead as the Warmaster. As the Emperor¡¯s most trusted son, Horus commanded half of humanity¡¯s military might. He was a peerless warrior, a masterful diplomat, and the architect of countless victories. But his name would forever be entwined with rebellion and betrayal.


    Joe. deep in thought, couldn¡¯t help but question the Emperor¡¯s decision. ¡°Why did the Emperor entrust so much power to Warmaster Horus?¡± he asked. ¡°Even with the utmost respect for the Emperor, wasn¡¯t this a mistake? Shouldn¡¯t the Emperor have implemented some kind of safeguard for such a massive force?¡±


    Kayvan Shrike, who had seen the glory and despair of those days, sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not as simple as it looks, Joe. The Emperor trusted his sons, and Horus was the one he trusted the most. But you need to understand¡ªwars in the Empire are nothing like the wars on Earth. They don¡¯t happen on a single planet or even in a single galaxy. They¡¯re expeditions, spanning distances measured in light-years. The frontlines are so far from the Empire¡¯s core that central control is practically impossible. Decisions on the battlefield can¡¯t wait for orders from home. It¡¯s like the old days of Earth¡¯s cold weapon era when generals on horseback had to make decisions without waiting for messengers to return from the capital.¡±


    Kayvan paused, letting Joe absorb the comparison, before continuing. ¡°Now, replace those horses with starships traveling tens of thousands of light-years. That¡¯s the reality of interstellar war. Trust in the generals becomes paramount, and Horus was the Emperor¡¯s most capable and trusted general.¡±


    Joe nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I see. But did Horus¡¯s rebellion succeed?¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Kayvan¡¯s voice was firm, his expression resolute. ¡°His Majesty the Emperor is invincible. You doubt this because you haven¡¯t seen what I¡¯ve seen. When you witness the memories of my battles, you¡¯ll understand. The Emperor¡¯s presence on the battlefield is enough to end any conflict. No force in the universe can stand against him. Not even the so-called gods of the cosmos can resist his might.¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s gaze grew distant, his voice softer yet filled with pride. ¡°The days when the Emperor led us were unlike anything you can imagine. Victory after victory, glory upon glory, we crushed every alien race in our path. We extinguished every threat before it could take root. Humanity was destined to rule the galaxy. To serve the Emperor wasn¡¯t just an honor¡ªit was the greatest privilege any warrior could hope for.¡±


    Joe leaned closer, intrigued. ¡°Is there any proof beyond just stories of how powerful the Emperor really was?¡±


    Kayvan smirked, as if the question amused him. ¡°Proof? Joe. the Emperor himself is proof. His strength, his will, his vision¡ªthose were the pillars that rebuilt humanity. Once you see for yourself, there won¡¯t be any room for doubt.¡±


    "Of course, if Horus wins in the end, we wouldn¡¯t even be having this conversation."


    "Why?"


    "Because a normal human body¡ªeven mine, with all the surgical modifications¡ªcan¡¯t last thousands of years without falling apart. If my body hadn¡¯t been preserved in the The Sanctum, we¡¯d have been doomed long ago." Kayvan Shrike paused as if to gauge Joe''s reaction. Noticing Joe''s lingering curiosity, he continued before Joe could ask another question. "As for knowledge about the The Sanctum, you¡¯ll have the chance to look into it yourself later. Right now, let¡¯s put the books aside and focus on something that actually matters."


    "Something that matters?" Joe tilted his head in confusion.

 Chapter 8 - Kayvan Teaching

    "Yes, something truly useful," Kayvan replied. In an instant, a massive suit of jet-black armor materialized over his body. From his fists, razor-sharp, crow-like claws extended, glinting ominously. "The most useful thing in a universe this dangerous is fighting."


    Without another word, Kayvan lunged at Joe. For someone so large, his speed was terrifying. Before Joe could even register what was happening, the steel claws had pierced his chest. A searing cold spread from the wound, quickly followed by a wave of suffocating weakness. Death¡¯s grip tightened around him. "Why...?" Joe gasped, his voice barely audible.


    "Don¡¯t look at me like that," Kayvan said casually, retracting his claws as if nothing had happened. "I was just saying hello. Didn¡¯t expect you to be this fragile, though. It¡¯s disappointing, especially considering the wealth of combat techniques buried in your memory. Anyway, get up."


    The sensation of dying vanished as quickly as it had come. Joe scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest in disbelief. "I... I¡¯m fine?"


    "Of course, you are," Kayvan said nonchalantly. "We¡¯re in a spiritual space. Your body isn¡¯t real here, so a blade can¡¯t actually harm you."


    "But it felt so real!" Joe protested.


    "The pain, the cold, the sense of death creeping closer," Kayvan replied, shrugging. "Those weren¡¯t your feelings; they were mine. I shared one of my past experiences with you. Remember that sensation and learn to avoid it¡ªbecause in reality, it won¡¯t end so nicely. That¡¯s what we¡¯re working toward."


    "Wait," Joe asked, still shaken. "You¡¯ve actually had your heart pierced before?"


    "Yeah," Kayvan said with a faint smirk. "It was during a brutal battle. If not for the surgery that gave me two hearts, I wouldn¡¯t have made it off that hellish planet alive. Enough about me, though. Let¡¯s talk about you. You¡¯re alarmingly weak. Your reflexes, mental fortitude, and combat experience are all practically nonexistent. How is that even possible? I¡¯ve seen incredible fighting techniques in your memories, and your world seems to pride itself on martial arts."


    Joe coughed awkwardly. "Those... might be from some novels. Fictional stories. I¡¯m more of a pacifist, honestly."


    "That won¡¯t do," Kayvan said firmly. "Pacifism is a luxury you can¡¯t afford. In this cold universe, peace is just the pause between wars. Luckily for you, we have plenty of time. I¡¯ll train you myself. From now on, you¡¯ll call me captain."


    "What are you planning to¡ª"


    "Careful with your tone, apprentice," Kayvan cut in.


    Joe sighed. "Alright, captain. What are you planning to do?"


    "You¡¯re too weak, and weakness has no value to the Empire. If you want to replace me one day, I¡¯ll need to train you¡ªteach you how to fight, survive, and serve the Emperor properly. You¡¯re lucky; not everyone gets to learn from me. Let¡¯s start with the basics: understanding our weapons."


    The massive armor vanished from Kayvan¡¯s body, replaced by simple, lightweight clothing. Raising his hands, he revealed a pair of sleek steel claws glinting menacingly under the light.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "These are Raven''s Talons, the unique weapon made by th primarch," he explained, clicking the claws together. A sharp metallic screech echoed through the space, sending shivers down Joe''s spine. "Sharp, deadly, and easy to handle. They¡¯re perfect for close-quarters combat. Nothing kills more efficiently. Now that you¡¯ve seen them, let¡¯s move on to training."


    In the consciousness space, there was no day or night, no concept of time. Kayvan had initially tried to track it by sheer estimation, but he gave up once his calculations reached a thousand years. For both him and Joe. time had become irrelevant. They didn¡¯t need food or sleep, taking breaks only when exhaustion demanded it, then diving back into relentless training.


    Joe''s studies spanned every aspect of Imperial life. Kayvan was determined to teach him everything: the Empire¡¯s history, its language, its customs, and its culture. Like a sponge, Joe absorbed this vast trove of knowledge, finding solace in learning amidst the monotony.


    But the cultural lessons were brief compared to the endless combat drills. Once Kayvan deemed the academic portion sufficient, he poured his energy into honing Joe''s fighting skills.


    The training was merciless. Joe''s body was shredded countless times, yet he persisted. Over time, the once-ordinary man began to grow, both in skill and resolve, under the watchful eye of his captain.


    At first, Kayvan only taught Joe how to fight with two claws. Under relentless and high-pressure training, Joe made significant progress. Gradually, he could withstand Kayvan¡¯s attacks, though not without effort. ¡°Very good,¡± Kayvan said, his tone laced with approval. ¡°You¡¯ve grasped the basics of using claws. Although you¡¯re slow to learn and, frankly, not very bright, it doesn¡¯t matter. We have plenty of time to fix that. Now comes my favorite part. This is still about steel claws, but what I¡¯m about to teach you is entirely different from what you¡¯ve learned so far. Pay close attention. These are my true martial arts.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Joe interrupted, blinking. ¡°Are you saying everything I¡¯ve learned so far was just the basics?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Kayvan replied without hesitation.


    ¡°...¡±


    The days that followed were a blur of grueling battles and torturous lessons. Only then did Joe begin to grasp how truly formidable Kayvan was. As the training progressed, this realization deepened.


    Kayvan¡¯s fighting skills defied simple explanation. They were less like techniques and more like a deadly art form. Unlike traditional art, this craft was perfected through countless battles, honed in blood and fire. His movements were precise, ferocious, and efficient, designed to kill with ruthless speed. As Kayvan often said, "Crows don¡¯t waste time tearing open a chest when a single thrust to the heart will do."


    His combat style mirrored that philosophy. There were no wasted movements, no unnecessary flair. His attacks were swift and merciless, aimed directly at the enemy¡¯s vital points. These skills, passed down from Raven himself, had been refined on countless battlefields. Simple. Effective. Deadly.


    Once the physical training sessions ended, Kayvan introduced tactical training. ¡°Combat literacy is often more important than combat skills,¡± Kayvan explained as they sparred. ¡°The different battle groups in the Empire all have their own traditions and methods of fighting. For us, the Crow Guard, our specialty lies in assassination, sabotage, and destruction. We excel at operations behind enemy lines. When the opportunity arises, we strike at the enemy¡¯s core. Decapitation tactics are our bread and butter. There¡¯s no need for us to engage in direct, drawn-out battles to prove our strength. Our job is to eliminate the enemy efficiently and move on.¡±


    Joe nodded, his sweat-drenched face reflecting his growing understanding.


    Kayvan continued, his voice steady and commanding. ¡°This is why combat literacy is critical for a Raven Guard. You¡¯ll need to know when to attack decisively and when to bide your time. When to create chaos and when to simply lurk in the shadows, letting your presence gnaw at the enemy¡¯s nerves. These decisions are yours to make as a frontline commander, and they won¡¯t be easy. You¡¯ll often find yourself deep in enemy territory, surrounded on all sides. One wrong move could doom your entire squad. It¡¯s not just your life on the line; your decisions could affect the success of an entire campaign. Brothers will die because of your mistakes. That¡¯s why learning to gather intelligence and make sound judgments is non-negotiable.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Too Strong

    Joe listened intently, the weight of Kayvan¡¯s words pressing heavily on him. He couldn¡¯t argue with the logic.


    The lessons didn¡¯t end there. Kayvan dove into the darker aspects of their training: the art of extracting information. ¡°Fingers,¡± Kayvan said matter-of-factly, holding up his hand. ¡°They¡¯re one of the most sensitive and fragile parts of the human body. Breaking a finger can shatter a man¡¯s will. It¡¯s simple and effective. Now, come here and try it on me.¡±


    Joe didn¡¯t hesitate. The chance to hurt his captain, even in training, felt like sweet revenge for all the beatings he¡¯d endured. He grabbed Kayvan¡¯s hand and snapped a finger with a loud crack. The sound was oddly satisfying, and Joe felt a flicker of triumph¡ªuntil Kayvan punched him square in the face.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± Kayvan barked as Joe groaned, sprawled on the ground. ¡°You¡¯re too quick. The enemy won¡¯t even feel the pain at that speed. You need to understand: we¡¯re not breaking fingers just to hurt someone insignificant. Behind enemy lines, we lack critical intel. The goal is to break their will, make them fear you. Pain is your tool. Now, get up and try again. Slowly this time. Make me feel it.¡±


    Joe got back on his feet, swallowing his frustration. He grabbed Kayvan¡¯s hand again and applied pressure, slower this time, as instructed. ¡°Better,¡± Kayvan said, grimacing slightly. ¡°But you¡¯re still too rough. Torture is an art. It requires finesse.¡±


    Kayvan then moved on to psychological tactics. ¡°Understanding your enemy¡¯s culture and customs can be invaluable. Of course, most of the Emperor¡¯s enemies won¡¯t live long enough for you to apply that knowledge, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to be prepared. Learn what you can about them, even if it feels like a waste of time. Knowledge is power, especially in our line of work.¡±


    And so, day and night, Joe trained under Kayvan¡¯s relentless guidance. He learned to endure, to fight, and to adapt. With time, he mastered assassination, sabotage, poisoning, torture, intimidation, and even explosives. He trained in operating and repairing every type of Imperial power armor, from Thunder Armor to Terminator Armor. By the end of it all, Joe felt confident that he could rival any legendary spy¡ªor at least, outperform 007, especially since 007 couldn¡¯t fly a space shuttle.


    Joe''s combat prowess also grew exponentially. His steel claws moved like shadows, their cold gleam as dangerous as a predator¡¯s fangs. He could now spar with Kayvan on equal footing, a testament to how far he¡¯d come. The style of "Raven" flowed through him effortlessly, a lethal blend of speed, precision, and brutality.


    The first phase of his training was complete. But deep down, Joe knew this was only the beginning. From a tactical perspective, which Kayvan valued most, Joe exceeded all expectations. Whether it was analyzing military chess scenarios or revisiting the battles Kayvan had fought, Joe always managed to come up with fresh ideas¡ªones Kayvan himself had never considered. What¡¯s more, he could explain his thoughts clearly and logically.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, you¡¯ve done well during this period,¡± Kayvan admitted, nodding in approval.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°This is all thanks to your excellent teaching, Capatain,¡± Joe replied modestly. ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know,¡± Kayvan admitted with a sigh. The one enemy he couldn¡¯t seem to defeat was back again¡ªboredom.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we start over?¡± Kayvan suggested.


    ¡°Start over?¡± Joe looked puzzled.


    ¡°I said, let¡¯s start over. I¡¯ll teach, and you¡¯ll learn,¡± Kayvan clarified. ¡°Of course, we¡¯ll skip the basic, messy stuff. This time, we¡¯ll focus entirely on combat. You¡¯re still lacking in that area. If you want to inherit my name and this body, you¡¯ll need more than just strategy and clever ideas. Power matters too. After all, I am Kayvan Shrike.¡±


    Joe frowned slightly. ¡°But I¡¯ve already managed to hold my ground in our spars, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Hold your ground? Against me?¡± Kayvan scoffed. ¡°You¡¯ve got some nerve, kid. Do you really think you can stand toe-to-toe with someone who¡¯s chapter leader-level among the Space Marines? Don¡¯t underestimate me. I¡¯m an Emperor¡¯s Knight, a warrior who¡¯s conquered countless battlefields across the stars. The only reason you¡¯ve done so well against me is because I¡¯ve been holding back.¡±


    As he spoke, Kayvan seemed to grow taller in Joe''s eyes¡ªhis presence commanding, his tone more serious. It reminded Joe of the first time he met his so-called cheap tutor. Towering at over three meters tall, Kayvan¡¯s physique was more monstrous than human. ¡°In our training sessions, I¡¯ve been limiting myself, matching your height and strength so the fights would be somewhat fair,¡± Kayvan continued. ¡°But now, in this second round of lessons, I¡¯ll be using my original strength and form.¡±


    Joe sighed, feeling a mix of helplessness and frustration. ¡°Lord Shrike, are you trying to teach me, or are you just bored and taking it out on me?¡±


    ¡°At times like this, men shouldn¡¯t settle things with words,¡± Kayvan said, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Let the battle speak for itself.¡±


    And so, the second round of lessons began. The instant the fight started, Joe felt like he¡¯d regressed to that clueless boy from Earth who knew nothing about combat. Under Kayvan¡¯s crushing attacks, he was reduced to a beginner, barely able to hold his ground for even a moment. Each encounter ended with him utterly defeated¡ªtorn apart, thrown to the ground, or obliterated in some other humiliating way.


    But Kayvan wasn¡¯t just focusing on combat this time. He¡¯d also decided to involve himself in Joe''s cultural education. At first, Kayvan had been indifferent to Joe''s studies, letting him roam the vast library to read whatever he fancied. That harsh training approach was now over. Kayvan, seemingly struck with the joy of being a cultural guide, took it upon himself to start actively teaching Joe.


    First on the list was language. Thankfully, 99% of the planets in the Empire used Low Gothic¡ªa common language that sounded like a mix of French and English. Its beautiful pronunciation and conversational tone made it relatively easy for most people to learn. Relatively.


    For Joe. language learning was a nightmare. Back on Earth, English classes from junior high through college had been the bane of his existence, costing him more hair than he cared to admit. Now, in this strange new world, he was forced to start all over again with another foreign language. Still, complaints didn¡¯t change the reality¡ªhe had to learn.


    After Low Gothic came High Gothic¡ªa more rigid, aristocratic language used for official purposes. It was complex and exhausting, pushing Joe''s limits even further. By the time he¡¯d made some progress with the languages, his combat training was still abysmally one-sided. Facing Kayvan in his true form was like trying to fight a mountain. No matter how much effort Joe put in, he was always completely overpowered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Joe finally said after being ¡°killed¡± for what felt like the hundredth time. ¡°I¡¯ve tried everything I can think of, but there¡¯s just no way to beat you. Your strength, speed, and reactions are all leagues above mine. All the techniques you¡¯ve taught me are about risking everything to take down the enemy before they take you down. How am I supposed to win like this?¡±

 Chapter 10 - Martial Arts

    Kayvan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯re right. Beating you so easily does feel a bit dull. Let¡¯s change things up. From now on, I¡¯ll teach you something different¡ªhow to get hit.¡±


    ¡°Get hit?¡± Joe echoed, confused. ¡°Is that really a skill worth learning?¡±


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Kayvan said. ¡°If you want to fight effectively, you need to know how to take a hit. Dodging is great, but you can¡¯t always rely on it. Sooner or later, you¡¯ll get caught. When that happens, knowing how to take the blow can make the difference between survival and death.¡±


    Joe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Isn¡¯t avoiding damage just a matter of being quick on your feet?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s part of it,¡± Kayvan admitted, ¡°but on the battlefield, you¡¯ll often find yourself in situations where dodging isn¡¯t an option. You need to learn how to absorb hits in a way that minimizes the damage. What posture to take, which part of your body to use¡ªthese are crucial. And let¡¯s not forget that battles aren¡¯t always one-on-one. Most of the time, it¡¯s chaos, with enemies coming at you from all sides. Learning how to take damage without losing your ability to fight is an essential skill.¡±


    Joe sighed again. ¡°I guess that makes sense¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to,¡± Kayvan said with a grin. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get started.¡±


    Kayvan shrugged. ¡°Although these techniques seem impressive, they¡¯re not as useful as you might think. Space Marines don¡¯t go into battle wearing casual clothes. We have powered armor.¡±  Joe nodded, already familiar with the process of wearing the armor, which was as intricate as donning medieval knight armor. Dressing in powered armor wasn¡¯t a simple task, and Joe had also learned basic repair techniques for it. Power armor, he knew, was an advanced version of knightly armor, reminiscent of the kind machine gunners wore in games like StarCraft. These suits didn¡¯t just provide unparalleled protection; they enhanced the strength and destructive power of their wearers.


    ¡°There¡¯s no better defense than powered armor,¡± Kayvan explained. ¡°You can¡¯t outrun lightning or dodge beams. The enemy will hit you, no matter how fast you are. When that happens, your only defense is the armor you¡¯re wearing. If your powered armor holds, you¡¯re fine. But if it fails¡­ well, it won¡¯t matter where you¡¯re hit. The result is usually the same. That¡¯s why I always felt techniques like these were of limited use. Still, learning them might give you a chance to survive just a little longer.¡±


    Thus began Joe''s brutal lessons. He learned how to take hits deliberately, deciding whether to sacrifice his lungs or kidneys when necessary. He mastered how to let a blade pierce him in ways that caused the least damage and how to staunch arterial bleeding when it occurred. Joe was taught to remain calm, even if his intestines spilled out, so he could push them back and keep fighting. Thankfully, this training took place in a mental simulation where the injuries weren¡¯t real, making the process much easier to endure. It wasn¡¯t long before Joe understood his body intimately and could calculate when and where to take an injury if it meant delivering a decisive blow to his opponent.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The training transformed Joe''s combat style entirely. Previously, he moved like a slippery eel, evading every strike to remain unharmed. Now, he fought like a berserker, willing to trade blows, trusting in his ability to outlast or outmaneuver his opponent. If an enemy slashed at him, Joe was just as likely to slash back, aiming to end the fight in one desperate exchange.


    But this new style had its limits. Against a foe like Kayvan, a captain-level Space Marine, it didn¡¯t matter how much Joe learned or practiced. Kayvan¡¯s overwhelming power made these techniques almost meaningless. No matter where Kayvan struck, he could incapacitate Joe instantly.


    Kayvan sighed, visibly frustrated. ¡°This is a real problem. What am I supposed to do? My body¡¯s already in decline, and if I keep pushing¡­¡±


    ¡°captain,¡± Joe interjected, curious, ¡°what exactly are you worried about?¡±


    Kayvan hesitated before answering. ¡°My body is¡­ withering.¡±


    ¡°Withering?¡± Joe echoed, startled.


    ¡°Well, not exactly. That¡¯s not the right word,¡± Kayvan admitted. ¡°Here¡¯s the situation. I can still use my body, but only barely. Through observation, I¡¯ve noticed something disturbing. My body is slowly becoming ordinary. The curse affecting me is weakening my bones and muscles. My second heart is starting to fail, and my third lung and second stomach aren¡¯t far behind. If this continues, I¡¯ll be¡­ useless. And if someone as strong as me comes after you, you¡¯ll stand no chance in a traditional fight.¡±


    ¡°Why would I have to fight someone stronger than me?¡±


    Kayvan chuckled darkly. ¡°Because enemies don¡¯t wait for you to be ready. They strike when you least expect it. If you want to survive in this world, you must remember two things: always be loyal to the Emperor and serve the Imperium. And second, make yourself strong enough to do so.¡±


    After brooding for a while, Kayvan finally came up with an unconventional idea. ¡°Let¡¯s use the martial arts knowledge in your head.¡±


    Joe frowned. ¡°That¡¯s mostly fiction. They¡¯re just concepts I¡¯ve seen in movies and games. I don¡¯t know anything about real martial arts.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. A concept is enough. I can build on that. Don¡¯t forget, I¡¯m a close-combat instructor. I¡¯ve killed enough enemies to form an entire army.¡±


    From that moment, Kayvan began experimenting. He meticulously analyzed every fight scene Joe had ever watched, breaking down moves and techniques to their core elements. He combined these ideas with his own combat experience, refining them into something practical. Once the groundwork was laid, Kayvan and Joe practiced together. What began as a mentorship relationship evolved into a partnership of mutual learning and discovery.


    Kayvan¡¯s approach blended the calculated ferocity of a seasoned warrior with the creative flair of imagined techniques. Under his guidance, Joe began to develop a unique style, merging the discipline of a Space Marine with the ingenuity of a mind unbound by traditional combat norms. Though still far from Kayvan¡¯s level, Joe''s growth was undeniable. The lessons were grueling, but for the first time, Joe felt he was carving his own path¡ªa path that might just keep him alive.


    Kayvan had always looked down on the ideas that filled Joe''s mind. Boxing, karate, muay thai, etc to him, was nothing more than a refined set of fighting techniques. Sure, when practiced to the point of mastery, martial artists could perform feats that seemed almost magical to ordinary people. But it was no different than a skilled waiter in a Western restaurant pulling a tablecloth from under a fully set table without disturbing the dishes. It might look impressive, even miraculous, but in reality, it was just the product of endless practice¡ªa showy skill with limited practicality.

 Chapter 11 - Last Moment

    Kayvan didn¡¯t care for such flair. His battles had always been brutal and straightforward, fought on real battlefields. His focus was on killing the enemy as efficiently and quickly as possible. Unlike martial artists who sought to challenge themselves and grow by facing stronger opponents, Kayvan wasn¡¯t interested in tests of skill or endurance. He was a soldier, not a fighter¡ªa warrior who fought for humanity¡¯s survival. If an enemy was too powerful to handle directly, that¡¯s what heavy weapons were for. Call in the artillery, wipe the enemy out, and move on.


    Because of this, Kayvan had never bothered delving deeply into the art of defeating stronger opponents through superior technique. He didn¡¯t need to. He had always been the stronger one.


    But now, things were different. Kayvan could feel the curse creeping through his body, eroding it bit by bit. His once-imposing frame, with its hardened muscles and formidable strength, was starting to fade. The Kayvan Shrike who could tear through enemies and wear power armor like a second skin was disappearing. In the not-so-distant future, he might not even have the physical capability to don such armor.


    This realization gnawed at him, pushing him to seek solutions¡ªnot just for Joe''s sake, but for his own survival.


    What unnerved him even more than the physical decline, however, was the effect the curse was having on his soul. Unlike the agony he¡¯d endured countless times in his life, the curse brought no pain. Instead, it delivered waves of bliss. It felt like sinking into a warm bath, every fiber of his being awash in soothing, intoxicating pleasure. The sensation was addictive, like a drug that promised heaven but demanded everything in return.


    For Kayvan, this was far worse than pain. Pain was just another sensation to endure, something that sharpened his will and kept him alert. But pleasure? Pleasure threatened to dull his edge, to erode his resolve.


    It was a battle unlike any he¡¯d fought before. He was no stranger to struggles, but this constant temptation felt like fighting against himself¡ªa seasoned addict wrestling with withdrawal. He had to keep his mind busy, his hands occupied. He couldn¡¯t afford even a moment of stillness, lest the curse drag him deeper into its abyss. He clung to his iron will, convinced that if he could resist long enough, the curse would weaken with his soul. Even as his strength faded, he believed his conviction would hold.


    He studied everything: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, renowned for its mastery of grappling and submissions; Muay Thai, the "Art of Eight Limbs," with its devastating strikes using fists, elbows, knees, and shins; Krav Maga, a no-nonsense combat system forged for real-world survival; Boxing, with its unmatched precision, footwork, and striking power; Karate, blending explosive strikes with disciplined technique; Judo, which turns an opponent''s strength against them through throws and joint locks; and Kung Fu, that emphasizes fluidity, balance, and versatility in both offense and defense.


    ¡°These techniques aren¡¯t completely useless,¡± Kayvan admitted one day. ¡°Fighting boils down to three things: strength, speed, and skill. Of the three, skill can sometimes turn the tide in a fight. But without strength and speed to back it up, skill alone has its limits. With strength and speed, though, you barely need skill at all. Mastering advanced techniques takes too much time for too little payoff, especially for ordinary people.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Joe. listening intently, couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°So, have you mastered them yet, captain?¡±


    Kayvan shook his head. ¡°I understand the principles, but I¡¯m far from mastery. I can teach you, though. Given enough time, you¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    He continued, ¡°The essence of martial arts, at least in your country, lies in the mastery of force. It¡¯s about harnessing the full power of your body in an instant and striking the enemy at their weakest point. That¡¯s the core of techniques like inch force, soft force, and redirection. In war or combat, it¡¯s always the same¡ªuse your strongest blow to hit the enemy where they¡¯re weakest.¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s tone turned wistful. ¡°But it¡¯s a shame¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the shame?¡±


    ¡°These techniques are impressive, no doubt, but they¡¯ll never see widespread use. Skills like these are meant for the weak, for those who need every edge to defeat a stronger opponent. The strong don¡¯t rely on tricks¡ªthey just need to become stronger. That¡¯s why our empire¡¯s warriors have no use for such things.¡±


    The days passed in a blur of practice and study. Kayvan and Joe devoted themselves entirely to the training. Despite his initial skepticism, Joe began learning what Kayvan considered the least useful skill of all: single-soldier unarmed combat. To Kayvan, losing one¡¯s weapons in battle was almost unthinkable. If it came to that, death was likely imminent, and unarmed combat wouldn¡¯t save you.


    But still, they trained. It was a way to fill the hours, to keep the curse at bay for just a little longer. And for Kayvan, it was a means to leave something behind¡ªa legacy of skill and survival in a world that seemed determined to take everything from him.


    Joe had always been deeply interested in this course. When the fourth round of lessons concluded, he surprised everyone by achieving outstanding results. After the last class, Kayvan patted Joe on the shoulder with a smile and said, ¡°I have nothing more to teach you. You¡¯ve been the slowest learner among all my students, but in the end, you¡¯ve become the best. Don¡¯t interrupt¡ªjust listen. In truth, I owe you my thanks. Because of you, even in these dark times, I¡¯ve managed to hold onto my humanity. You¡¯ve kept me from succumbing to despair. And now, I can leave this world without regrets, knowing that even if my soul fades, you¡¯ll carry on my name and serve the empire. You¡¯ve given me the courage to make this decision.¡±


    Joe''s expression shifted as Kayvan continued. ¡°It¡¯s time for me to say goodbye, once and for all. From now on, you are Kayvan Shrike. Honor this name, and never bring it shame.¡±


    ¡°Lord Shrike, you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± Kayvan interrupted, his smile bittersweet. ¡°What¡¯s that look on your face? Don¡¯t be sad. In this world, those who leave aren¡¯t necessarily the unfortunate ones, and those who stay aren¡¯t always the lucky ones. I¡¯ve lived too long, fought too many battles. Now, it¡¯s time for me to face my final challenge, against an enemy more powerful than anything I¡¯ve encountered. I¡¯ve run from this fight for too long, but no more. This battle has always been inevitable.¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s gaze turned stern as he added, ¡°Remember, when the time comes, just watch. No matter what happens, do not intervene. This fight belongs to me alone. May the emperor guide you, and may he grant me his protection.¡±


    With those words, Kayvan raised his hand, opening a shimmering door in the void. He stepped through without hesitation, vanishing from sight.

 Chapter 12 - Mysterious Woman

    The world around Joe began to unravel. The floor crumbled beneath him, the walls disintegrated into dust, and the ceiling dissolved, exposing the endless sky above. Soon, even the sky itself seemed to peel away, leaving Joe weightless, suspended in a void.


    He looked down and saw a vast plain stretching endlessly in all directions. The earth below wasn¡¯t brown or green, but a horrifying patchwork of corpses¡ªhumans, alien creatures, and unidentifiable monstrosities¡ªcovered the ground like a grotesque carpet. Blood pooled and congealed in rivers across the battlefield, staining everything a deep, sickening red. Joe''s heart pounded as he took in the horrifying scene. ¡°Is this¡­ hell?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°It¡¯s not wrong to call it that,¡± came Kayvan¡¯s voice, steady but grim. ¡°But it¡¯s also not entirely right. This is a battlefield. Soon, a battle will rage here¡ªone that will decide everything. The enemy is unimaginably powerful, and I must give everything I have to face it. Joe. listen to me carefully. Stay true to your heart. Don¡¯t let evil tempt you. Her words are poison, and they¡¯ll seep into your soul if you aren¡¯t careful. Whatever you do, don¡¯t believe her.¡±


    ¡°Her? Evil? What do you mean?¡± Joe asked, his voice trembling.


    A sultry voice cut through the air, dripping with charm. ¡°Evil? Such a simplistic word.¡±


    Joe''s gaze was drawn to the plain below as the corpses began to shift and rise, forming a grotesque mound. From the center of the heap, a hexagonal crystal platform emerged, glittering ominously. At its center stood a magnificent golden throne encrusted with dazzling jewels. Around the edges of the platform, six corners displayed something so mesmerizing, it rooted Joe to the spot.


    The first corner was a pile of treasures: gold coins spilling like water, massive rubies, opals, and diamonds glinting in the faint light. A golden idol stood among them, radiating a hypnotic allure.


    The second corner held a long banquet table laden with food and drink beyond imagination¡ªsucculent roasts, fresh fish, soft bread, and wines that sparkled in the light. Each dish exuded an irresistible aroma, and just as one plate vanished, a new, even more enticing one appeared in its place.


    The third corner was filled with young men and women chained by their necks. Their flawless skin and seductive movements seemed designed to ignite desire. Every glance, every motion, exuded an intoxicating allure that tugged at the deepest recesses of the mind.


    The other three corners were obscured by thick, swirling mist, their contents hidden from view.


    Atop the golden throne sat a woman, her presence as intoxicating as it was commanding. Her elegant frame was draped in a black silk dress that clung to her like a second skin, its sheer fabric revealing tantalizing glimpses of the flesh beneath. Her deep, gentle eyes seemed to draw in the very soul, and her smile was both comforting and dangerous.


    She leaned back, her voice like honey. ¡°How childish it is to divide the world into two simple sides¡ªjustice and evil. Only children see the world so naively. Adults understand that life is shades of gray, driven by personal interests. Don¡¯t you agree, Kayvan?¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s voice was sharp and unwavering. ¡°Enough of your games, Evil. I won¡¯t be swayed by your words.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The woman laughed softly, her tone almost pitying. ¡°You¡¯re such a hypocrite, Kayvan. How long have you been running from me? Hiding behind your walls, plugging your ears, pretending I don¡¯t exist? I¡¯ve waited so long, knocking at your door like a forgotten child, and you¡¯ve ignored me every time. And now that we meet at last, you spew these harsh words at me? You fear me, don¡¯t you? Because deep down, you know I speak the truth.¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°It¡¯s true. Once, I couldn¡¯t stand against you. My heart was too full of weakness, of desire. But not anymore. This ends now.¡±


    "Stop using that word; it¡¯s ridiculous and makes me laugh," the woman in the black robe waved her hand dismissively. "You talk about evil and justice as if they mean something, but those ideas crumble under scrutiny. They¡¯re hollow concepts that fall apart the moment you think too deeply about them. But why waste time on such boring things? Look around you¡ªat the wealth, the shimmering gold, the dazzling jewels. This is treasure beyond what most mortals could dream of possessing in a lifetime. And yet, it¡¯s yours for the taking.


    "Kayvan, you¡¯ve fought for the Empire through life and death. You¡¯ve dedicated your entire existence to protecting humanity¡ªshielding them from alien horrors, exterminating countless alien races. Without you, how many would have been torn apart or reduced to animal dung? And what did you get for your sacrifices? Nothing. Nothing but a pile of ridiculous armor! After all you¡¯ve done, all you¡¯ve suffered, you stand here empty-handed!" Her voice was laced with sorrow, though her expression betrayed a certain cruelty.


    "The officials of the Empire? They¡¯re lounging in their palaces, drinking fine wine and gorging themselves. They exploit the poor, stash unimaginable wealth in secret vaults, and use their positions to indulge in every vile desire. And the interstellar consuls?" She laughed bitterly. "They¡¯re worse than animals in heat, taking any woman they please and killing anyone who dares displease them. They act like gods¡ªnot even, gods have rules. These men are worse. And their children, their descendants, will inherit this power and continue the cycle of tyranny. This is the system you¡¯ve dedicated your life to defending. Are these truly the people you¡¯re risking everything for?"


    Kayvan stood firm, his voice calm but resolute. "It¡¯s my duty. I haven¡¯t given my life for nothing. I¡¯ve earned honor in my service, and I hold faith in my heart."


    "Honor? Faith?" The woman scoffed, her smile twisting into one of condescension. "Those medals? Those scraps of iron they pin on your chest? They¡¯re meaningless trinkets, Kayvan. And as for faith..." She chuckled, shaking her head as if addressing a na?ve child. "You¡¯re fooling yourself. You have nothing."


    Kayvan¡¯s gaze sharpened, his voice edged with cold defiance. "And what can you offer me that¡¯s any different?"


    Her lips curved into a sly smile. "What do you desire? Wealth? I have that in abundance." She walked to a towering pile of gold coins, letting a handful slip through her fingers. The coins clinked and shimmered as they fell. "Listen to that sound. Isn¡¯t it beautiful? All of this could be yours. I can give you more wealth than you could ever spend. You could live in a palace of gold, Kayvan. Even your toilet could be pure gold, if you wished."


    "Cheap illusions," Kayvan sneered. "They¡¯re meaningless."


    "Illusions? Perhaps," the woman admitted with a slight tilt of her head. "But feel them, touch them. These gold coins, these gems¡ªthey¡¯re indistinguishable from the real thing. The weight, the texture, the sound¡ªthey bring the same pleasure and satisfaction. Why concern yourself with whether something is real or not? Isn¡¯t enjoyment enough?" Her eyes glinted with malice, but Kayvan met her gaze with a derisive smile, full of mockery.


    Her tone shifted suddenly, taking on a seductive lilt. "Ah, I see. Money doesn¡¯t move you. How about food, then? Here, try this." She gestured to an ornate table laden with dishes. "This is the belly meat of a fish caught from thirty thousand meters below the sea. The finest cut. And this wine?" She held up a crystal goblet, swirling its dark liquid. "The aroma alone is intoxicating. To live without tasting something this divine¡ªit¡¯s a tragedy, Kayvan."


    "I eat to live, nothing more," Kayvan said coldly. "And I live to serve the God-Emperor."

 Chapter 13 - Who I Am?

    The woman clucked her tongue in mock pity. "Such a bleak existence. How have you survived so long without joy?" Her voice dropped, growing sultry. "What about women? Look at these girls. Their skin is soft, their bodies eager. They long for you, Kayvan. They ache for your touch. They¡¯ll let you do anything¡ªanything¡ªto them. Or perhaps..." Her smile turned wicked. "You prefer men? I can offer you them as well. Their bodies, their moans, their submission¡ªall for your pleasure."


    "Shut your mouth, you whore," Kayvan growled, his gauntleted hands clenching. With a metallic click, razor-sharp claws extended from his gloves. "Your twisted offers are wasted on me. I have no interest in your lies or your perversions. Stop stalling and pick up your weapon."


    The woman sighed, her expression momentarily mournful. "Not interested, are you? Such a shame." She seemed to think for a moment, then clapped her hands. "Ah, I know!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with cruel delight. A figure stepped out from the shadows behind her throne. "What about her, Kayvan? Your old lover. You¡¯ve missed her, haven¡¯t you?"


    Kayvan froze, his breath catching in his throat. The woman continued, her voice soft and venomous. "How many times did you watch her, wondering what was hidden beneath her clothes? How many nights did you lie awake, touching yourself to thoughts of her body, her cries of pain and pleasure beneath you? Wasn¡¯t that why you left her¡ªto escape the temptation? Because you knew, deep down, you couldn¡¯t trust yourself? And now, here she is. She¡¯s waiting for you, Kayvan. She wants you. Take her."


    For a long moment, Kayvan stood motionless, his face a mask of horror. His expression twisted into despair, then fury. Finally, he snarled through gritted teeth, "No. This is


    The woman in the black robe spoke with words sharper than any blade, her voice effortlessly piercing through Kayvan¡¯s defenses.


    "Look at you, poor child," she said, descending from the throne with an unnerving grace. Her feet barely seemed to touch the crystal steps as she approached him. When she reached him, she gently stroked his head, her voice soft and maternal, almost tender. "It¡¯s heartbreaking, really. You¡¯re so sad, and it¡¯s no wonder. You already know, don¡¯t you? What you saw¡ªit''s all a lie, an illusion crafted to distract you from the truth. Your old lover is gone, Kayvan. She died a long time ago while you were out in the galaxy, fighting endless wars, exterminating alien threats, destroying everything in your path to protect humanity. You were unstoppable in battle, but time¡­ time doesn¡¯t stop for anyone. Not for you. Not for her.¡±


    Her words hung heavy in the air as she crouched to his level, her tone almost soothing, like a lullaby meant to break his spirit. ¡°You are immortal, untouched by time. But she wasn¡¯t. She grew older, Kayvan. She aged. And then¡­ she passed away. Alone. Do you know how much she loved you? Her entire life, she never married, never found happiness. She cried herself to sleep more nights than I can count, dreaming of you. That was her only comfort during her long, lonely nights.


    ¡°She wanted to feel close to you, even if it was just in her mind. She¡¯d lay in bed and imagine you there beside her. That fantasy was her only solace. But when she¡¯d open her eyes, all she found was emptiness. And now, that¡¯s all you have left of her¡ªemptiness and regret. Her once radiant skin withered, her laughter faded, and she died lonely, thinking of the brother who was never there.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Kayvan, the towering giant who had always been calm, strong, and untouchable, suddenly crumbled. He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as his crow¡¯s claws fell to the ground with a hollow clang. The unyielding man who had never known fear now shook like a leaf in a storm.


    ¡°No¡­ no! You¡¯re lying! Lies!¡± His voice cracked, and the power armor that once shielded him began to peel away, piece by piece, revealing the vulnerable man beneath.


    The woman¡¯s lips curled into a twisted smile. ¡°You know I¡¯m not lying, Kayvan. You know my power; you know I only speak the truth. This is the reality you¡¯ve been running from¡ªa tragedy of two souls who loved each other but were kept apart by meaningless rules and empty morals. What¡¯s so wrong about love? Even love between siblings? It¡¯s society¡¯s chains that made you suffer, made her suffer. And for what? Those same nobles you fought to protect indulge in far worse behind closed doors. Some even take their pets to bed.¡± Her voice turned honeyed, almost seductive. ¡°So why shouldn¡¯t you indulge in what brings you happiness? Why torment yourself for rules that only serve to hurt you?¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s breathing grew shallow, his chest heaving as the weight of her words sank deeper into his mind. ¡°No¡­ no¡­ it¡¯s my fault¡­ all of it¡­¡± he whispered, his voice hollow. His once-mighty frame seemed to shrink under the crushing burden of guilt and despair.


    From his vantage point in the air, Kayvan watched helplessly. He tried to scream, to warn Kayvan, but no sound escaped his lips. His mind raced back to Kayvan¡¯s words before the battle began. Kayvan had known this would happen. This was his fight, and no one could interfere.


    The woman in the black robe pressed on, her voice dripping with false compassion. ¡°You see now, don¡¯t you? The so-called morality, justice, and laws¡ªthey¡¯re nothing but shackles. You¡¯ve given everything, Kayvan, yet you¡¯ve been left with nothing. Why not take what you deserve? Why not embrace the pleasure and freedom you¡¯ve denied yourself for so long? You¡¯ve sacrificed everything, but it¡¯s time to let go. Enjoy life. You¡¯ve earned that much, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Kayvan¡¯s head hung low, his hands clutching the ground as though he might fall through it. Then, his shoulders shook¡ªnot with despair, but with a deep, guttural laugh. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes blazing with defiance. ¡°You know¡­ you almost had me,¡± he said through gritted teeth. ¡°But unfortunately for you, it¡¯s all nonsense.¡±


    With a burst of strength, Kayvan sprang to his feet like a coiled spring. His power armor was gone, his weapons stripped away, but his faith was unshaken. The crow¡¯s claws, hidden within his very being, erupted from his fists, tearing through his skin and gleaming with deadly intent.


    Before the woman could react, Kayvan lashed out. One clawed hand sliced clean through her neck, sending her head flying. His other hand plunged into her chest, the claws ripping into her heart and twisting mercilessly. He stirred the organ like a wild animal tearing apart prey, reducing it to pulp.


    In the span of seconds, the black-robed woman¡¯s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Kayvan stepped back, yanking his blood-soaked claws free and kicking her body away with disgust. ¡°I told you,¡± he snarled, his voice low and venomous. ¡°Your little tricks don¡¯t work on me. Now, tell me your name, demon. Let¡¯s see just how ¡®close¡¯ you want to get.¡±


    However, as if nothing had happened, another identical woman in a black robe emerged on the throne. She looked down at him, her voice dripping with mockery. "What an unexpected result. He truly lives up to his reputation as a leader of the Crow Guard. You are not to be underestimated. But tell me, Kayvan¡ªdon¡¯t you recognize who I am?"

 Chapter 14 - Against Slaneesh

    Kayvan¡¯s eyes narrowed. "I¡¯m not familiar with you demons at all."


    She laughed, a sound both chilling and strangely familiar. "But I know you, Kayvan. I know every fragrant dream you''ve had, every bit of pain, anger, and resentment buried in your heart. Everything about you is laid bare before me. Can''t you guess who I am? When you blocked the curse, I slipped into your body. Everything since then has unfolded exactly as I planned, without a single misstep."


    Her lips curled into a smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Some call me Salish. Others call me Shalish. To some, I am the Evil God Slaanesh. But here, you should know me by another name¡ªI am you. Just like two sides of the same coin, the curse of the evil god feeds me power, and the darkness within your heart is the soil where I thrive. I am you, Kayvan Shrike, and you are me. We are one and the same. I know all your desires, I feel your pain, your rage, and your joy. I mourn when you mourn, and I revel in your madness. We are not enemies. We are kin."


    "You¡¯re saying you¡¯re my other side? That I have a demon hidden inside me?" Kayvan''s voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp, scrutinizing every word.


    "There¡¯s a devil hidden in everyone¡¯s heart, Kayvan. It just depends on how you name it. Desire is part of being human. Imagine a person without any wants or needs¡ªsomeone who cannot love or hate, who doesn¡¯t feel the sting of jealousy or the satisfaction of success. That person would be as cold as ice, emotionless and hollow. Could they even be considered human? What would be the purpose of their life?


    "You admire the so-called virtuous, don¡¯t you? But think about it. The emperor you revere turned you into a killing machine, a tool for his conquests and inflated ambitions. I, on the other hand, want to help you find your true self. To be someone who knows love, who enjoys life. To become¡­ real."


    Kayvan¡¯s jaw tightened. "Everyone has desires, but what matters is whether I control them or they control me. You¡¯re cunning, devil, but you can¡¯t shake my resolve. When I guard my heart, everything is decided. No matter how much you talk, it changes nothing." He stepped forward, each stride deliberate as he ascended the crystal stairs leading to the throne. Bodies lay scattered on either side, and blood stained his boots, but he moved forward without hesitation.


    The black-robed woman tilted her head, her smile widening. "How ridiculous. I already told you¡ªI am you. How can you kill me? We are inseparable. Every time you pierce my chest with a blade, you weaken yourself. If I die, so do you!"


    "Then we¡¯ll die together!" Kayvan roared, his voice echoing in the vast hall. He charged up the stairs, ignoring the golden treasures and lavish feasts that appeared in his path. When beautiful young women emerged to block his way, he didn¡¯t hesitate, his claws slicing through them like paper. Their bodies fell in pieces, staining the stairs crimson.


    But then a familiar figure stepped into his path¡ªa beautiful woman, her face so achingly familiar it stopped him in his tracks.


    "Kayvan! Please, stop!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You¡¯re scaring me. I don¡¯t even recognize you anymore. Please, come back. Be the Kayvan who loved me."Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Kayvan stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed. "You do look like her," he said softly. "But you¡¯re not her." Without hesitation, he thrust his claws forward, piercing her chest. His sharp talons tore through her body with brutal precision, ripping her apart as blood and flesh rained down the stairs. Her severed head rolled to the ground, coming to a stop against a step.


    Kayvan didn¡¯t even glance at it. He continued upward. The woman on the throne shook her head, her expression one of mock regret. "Look at yourself. You killed even your lover without a second thought. And yet you still think you¡¯re different from me? Between the two of us, who¡¯s more like a devil now? Turn back, Kayvan. There¡¯s still time!"


    Her words were cut short as Kayvan lunged. His claws plunged into her eyes, tearing through her skull with relentless force. Blood spattered as he dragged the blades downward, splitting her body from head to groin. Her form crumpled, torn apart like a grotesque work of art.


    A chilling laugh echoed. "What a pity. I really didn¡¯t want to resort to barbarism, Kayvaan. But you left me no choice."


    The corpses scattered across the ground began to stir. One by one, they rose, their forms shifting until they all resembled her¡ªSlaanesh. Each one bore a twisted weapon as they swarmed toward Kayvaan. Yet, none could match him. He moved like a storm, his claws tearing through them in a whirlwind of silver. The air filled with the sound of ripping flesh and the clang of broken weapons. Dismembered limbs and pools of blood painted a grim battlefield as countless versions of Slaanesh fell, only for more to rise again.


    The massacre dragged on, time losing all meaning. It became an eternal slaughter, a never-ending nightmare. No one could say how long Kayvaan fought¡ªminutes, hours, days. It felt like forever. To anyone watching, it seemed as though the earth itself gave rise to the dead, only for them to be cut down again.


    When it finally ended, Kayvaan stood atop the mountain of corpses, his steel claws glinting in the dim light, his body drenched in blood. He looked like a demon himself, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. ¡°You¡¯ll never beat me, demon!¡± he roared, his voice shaking the ground. ¡°This is my mind, my soul, my territory! I am invincible here! I¡¯m sick of your tricks¡ªcome out and face me!¡±


    "You¡¯re insane," her voice hissed as she emerged from the mound of bodies. The once-elegant, otherworldly beauty on her face was gone, replaced by feral rage and bitterness. ¡°You think you¡¯ve won? You can¡¯t defeat me. I am you. I know your every move, every thought, every strength. How can a man beat himself?¡±


    Kayvaan raised his claws, his grin as sharp as the weapons he wielded. ¡°Then show me how strong I really am.¡±


    Slaanesh smiled coldly, raising her hands. Her nails grew unnaturally long, gleaming like blades. ¡°You¡¯re not smart, Kayvaan, but I¡¯ll admit you¡¯re strong.¡±


    The air thickened with tension as they faced each other. They didn¡¯t need words¡ªboth knew that ordinary combat wouldn¡¯t decide this fight. They were too alike, each knowing the other¡¯s strategies and thoughts. So, they abandoned all subtlety, diving headfirst into brutal, primal violence.


    They collided like forces of nature. Kayvaan''s claws punched through her chest, his fist gripping something inside as he pulled her close. At the same time, her claws pierced his ribs, holding him in an iron grip. Neither flinched. They locked themselves in a grotesque embrace, each tearing into the other without hesitation.


    His claws ripped, sliced, and gouged, turning her flesh into shredded pulp. Her claws dug and tore with equal savagery, peeling muscle from bone in an attempt to dismantle him. They struck with fists, claws, knees, and even teeth, as though they were mortal enemies locked in a fight to the death. Blood splattered across the battlefield, staining their already ruined bodies.

 Chapter 15 - Awaken

    To the onlooker, it was both mesmerizing and horrifying¡ªa fight so close and vicious it blurred the line between combat and self-destruction. Minutes passed, or perhaps centuries. Their movements slowed as exhaustion seeped into their broken forms, but neither stopped.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Slaanesh¡¯s voice broke through the chaos. Her tone, once commanding, now carried a desperate edge. ¡°Kayvaan, stop! Please, I beg you. If we go on, we¡¯ll both die. Why are you doing this? What has the False Emperor done to make you so insane?¡±


    Kayvaan didn¡¯t answer. His actions were mechanical, like a machine. He raised his arm and drove his claws into her again. ¡°Stop, please!¡± she screamed. ¡°Why are you so stubborn? You¡¯re human, Kayvaan! No matter what they turned you into, deep down, you¡¯re just a man. You¡¯re tired, aren¡¯t you? Exhausted! Why not give in and rest?¡±


    He ignored her, lifting his arm with difficulty. The claws plunged into her once more. ¡°Think about it,¡± she gasped. ¡°Eternal happiness, even if false, would feel real. What¡¯s more terrifying¡ªbeing trapped in a dream you never wake from or living in a nightmare you can never escape?¡±


    Kayvaan struggled but forced his arm up again, his claws driving into her body. ¡°Why do this to yourself? Reality is dark, bloody, and full of pain. You¡¯ve seen it. You¡¯ve lived it. Don¡¯t you want peace?¡±


    Again, he raised his arm, slower this time, and pierced her flesh. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± she whispered, her voice faltering. "I''m dead, and you can''t live either. Your soul is on the brink of dissolving. So tell me¡ªhow can you claim victory?"


    Across from him, she rose to her feet. The scars across her body were horrific, as if she''d been through a blender. Torn and mangled, yet, shockingly, her wounds were healing at an unnatural speed.


    Kayvaan remained calm, unfazed by the grotesque sight. His voice was steady, resolute. "You don''t understand. A devil like you could never grasp the essence of an Adeptus Astartes. We give up everything¡ªour ordinary lives, our comforts¡ªfor one purpose: to protect humanity. Being Astartes is about dedication. It¡¯s about sacrifice, not gain or possession."


    She laughed, her smile twisted and eerie. "So you sacrificed yourself to take me down with you?" Her tone was mocking. "And for what? So your pitiful apprentice can inherit your broken body and your legacy, only to keep serving your false emperor?"


    His eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know about him?"


    She tilted her head, her grin widening as if savoring some private joke. "Hahahaha! I told you, everything is going exactly as expected. No exceptions." Her tone grew sharper, yet more amused. "Your poor little apprentice¡ªhe''s not like you, is he? He¡¯s just a regular human. Do you honestly think he can resist all those temptations? Money, indulgence, lust, power, vanity¡ªall those sweet things mortals crave? He¡¯ll crumble, Kayvaan. He¡¯ll fall sooner or later. Sure, you¡¯ve won this battle. I¡¯ll vanish with you. But the real game? It¡¯s only just begun, and you won¡¯t be around to see it."


    Kayvaan coughed, blood trickling from his mouth, but his gaze remained unwavering. "I believe in him. He is my best apprentice. Flawed, yes, but kind. And as long as he holds onto that kindness, he¡¯ll endure."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Her expression twisted into something dark and angry, her voice rising in frustration. "And what did you get from all this, Kayvaan? Yes, you won¡ªbut at what cost? What do you have now? Nothing! You¡¯re dying, just like me! Why do you humans cling to these ideals, these pointless sacrifices, when you never get anything in return?"


    Kayvaan chuckled faintly, his voice soft yet firm. "What have I gained? I¡¯ve gained exactly what I always wanted. I know my place in the universe. I am one of the Crows, a combat instructor, a soldier. And now, I¡¯ve achieved the perfect ending. Victory or death¡ªthat¡¯s our war cry, our creed. And now, I get both. For a Crow, what could be better than that?"


    Their forms began to fade, dissolving into the void. The woman turned her gaze to Joe, her demeanor strangely serene. She was Kayvaan¡¯s adversary, an incarnation of the Chaos god Slaanesh, yet in this moment, she seemed like something more. Neither regretful nor angry, she smiled as if she had simply been part of a game¡ªa game that had reached its natural conclusion. Winning or losing seemed irrelevant now.


    Her voice carried a calmness that was almost holy. "Joe," she said, her smile unwavering. "I will remember you. Your face, your soul. One day, I¡¯ll wait for you in the Temple of Joy. There, all your desires can be fulfilled. Eternal happiness, Joe. It¡¯s yours for the taking. Unlike your foolish mentor, I believe you¡¯ll make the smart choice.


    "I could explain it all¡ªhow to see this cruel, ugly world for what it really is. But joy is fleeting in a place like this. So, I¡¯ll leave you with a gift instead. The darkness will remain, even when I¡¯m gone. Use its power. Don¡¯t chain yourself to meaningless ideals. Nothing is more important than your own happiness."


    With that, both Kayvaan and the devil vanished, their final words echoing in the collapsing void. The world crumbled into darkness.


    The sun shone warmly on Earth, casting a gentle glow across the silver-white plaza. White doves soared overhead, their wings glinting in the light. Fountains sprayed arcs of water into the sky, droplets scattering like diamonds as they fell. Even the sound of water seemed joyful on this tranquil spring day.


    The empire had recently celebrated the dawn of the 41st millennium. A grand parade and carnival had been held in the imperial capital, filling the streets with laughter and cheers. Though the festivities had subsided, an air of celebration still lingered.


    Nobles from across the galaxy had gathered for the event. Some stayed behind to cultivate connections and secure their positions in the sprawling bureaucracy of the imperial capital. Others, devout believers, visited the cathedrals to sing hymns and pray with tears of fervent faith. But most nobles simply indulged themselves, reveling in the rare chance to enjoy the birthplace of humanity¡ªthe heart of the empire.


    Earth was not only the political center of the galaxy but also its spiritual core. The Vatican Council of Cardinals, seated here, remained the most revered religious authority in the empire. Though the Vatican Auxiliary Council on Ophelia VII was an equally powerful institution, centuries of tradition ensured that Earth was still seen as the true heart of the Imperial Creed.


    After all, the Emperor Himself resided on Earth or it called Terra. Pilgrims and nobles alike flocked to the towering cathedrals and ancient monuments, drawn by the weight of history and faith. For many, standing on this sacred ground was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.


    Cathedrals large enough for interstellar spacecraft to pass through stood like monuments built for ancient giants, their sheer size dwarfing anything else in sight. Just looking at them from afar filled people with awe and a humbling sense of insignificance. Above these magnificent structures, thin, tower-like spires pierced the sky, adorned with intricate sculptures of heroes frozen in victorious poses. Every corner and alley boasted murals and carvings depicting the Empire''s storied past, while ancient buildings bore the marks of time¡¯s relentless march. Together, they painted a scene unique to Earth¡ªone that no visitor could afford to miss.

 Chapter 16 - Suspicion

    Among these landmarks stood the Cathedral of the Emperor''s Ascension, a beacon of faith and history. Even the empire''s wealthiest and most corrupt nobles saw value in bringing their children to its hallowed halls. For many, it was not just a visit but an opportunity to instill values and a proper outlook on life. Some imperial schools even made trips to the Cathedral a regular activity, allowing children to hear firsthand the heroic tales and magical legends of a time long past.


    The Cathedral¡¯s outer sanctum was a towering Gothic marvel. Its black walls bore countless carvings depicting heroic sacrifices made for the Empire. Tourists patiently waited in long queues, guided by attendants who led them through the various exhibits. At every significant stop, priests and servants recounted the stories of legendary battles and the brave souls who fought them.


    It had been 9,000 years since the hero Kayvaan fell to a dark curse on the battlefield. In those millennia, the Empire weathered countless storms under the Emperor¡¯s watchful gaze. There had been dark periods when the Empire teetered on the edge of collapse, but it had always endured. Today, the Empire was in a time of relative peace, free from large-scale wars, and its citizens enjoyed a stability that was hard-earned and deeply cherished.


    The Sanctum of the Honored Dead, once exclusively a resting place for fallen heroes, had evolved. While its inner sanctum still housed the remains of those legendary figures, access was strictly limited. Visitors instead marveled at the rebuilt outer sanctum, a grand and majestic structure designed for public admiration and education.


    Then, on an otherwise ordinary day, the cathedral was interrupted by a strange and ancient sound¡ªthe ringing of a bell. Its deep, majestic tone reverberated through the hall, cutting through the chatter of the crowds. What made it even more extraordinary was that it wasn¡¯t amplified by any technology; the bell¡¯s power seemed to come from its sheer resonance.


    Tourists froze, startled, their eyes darting around to locate the source of the sound. Even the servants tasked with guiding the visitors were left bewildered. None of them knew why the bell had been rung.


    Amid the confusion, the high priest suddenly burst onto the scene. His appearance was disheveled¡ªhe wore a simple nightgown, his ornate crown clutched awkwardly under one arm, and his bare feet slapped against the cold stone floor as he sprinted toward the inner hall. His frantic, almost undignified dash drew gasps and puzzled murmurs from the crowd.


    Inside the inner sanctum, chaos reigned. Some priests panicked, while others were visibly flushed with excitement. The bishop, normally a figure of calm authority, looked uncharacteristically energized. Everyone knew what the bell signified: the ¡°Awakening Bell¡± had been rung.


    The Awakening Bell only tolled under extraordinary circumstances, marking the return of a a hero long thought lost to history. For those interred in the Sanctum¡¯s coffins, emerging again was akin to a miracle. In the Hall¡¯s 9,000-year history, the bell had only rung three times, each occasion representing either the resurrection of a legend or their final passing.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The bishop, aware of the magnitude of the moment, knelt in the special auditorium. He prayed fervently, his words praising the Emperor and the miracle unfolding before him. To hear the bell during his tenure was an unimaginable blessing.


    Ancient machinery groaned to life, and soon a silver coffin was transported into the auditorium by mechanical arms. The bishop rose from his prayer, his hands trembling slightly as he removed an ancient golden key from around his neck. With reverence, he handed it to a mechanical servant. The automaton bowed deeply, then carefully inserted the key into the coffin''s lock, ensuring every movement was precise and gentle.


    As the lid of the coffin slid open, the figure of a young man was revealed. He appeared no older than eighteen, his face calm and serene, but when his eyes fluttered open, they held a depth of weariness that spoke of untold years and battles.


    The bishop stepped forward, his voice steady despite his emotions. ¡°I am Armandius, bishop of the Cathedral. I have been your servant during your slumber. Welcome back, great one.¡±


    The man who emerged from the silver coffin was not the original Kayvaan Shrike, but a traveler through time¡ªJoe. When his mentor vanished, the essence of Joe, the traveler, ceased to exist. Now, only Joe, who had inherited Kayvaan''s name and legacy, remained. He vowed to honor that name, carrying its weight forward into this world.


    This was only the beginning¡ªthe very first step of a new journey. Kayvaan Shrike stepped out of the silver coffin, his movements unsteady. His bare foot landed on the cold, smooth floor with a sharp "pop." A servant approached hastily, offering support, but Kayvaan waved them off, his hand firm and unyielding.


    "I am Kayvaan, captain of the Raven Guard," he declared, his voice strong despite his weakened state. "I don¡¯t need anyone¡¯s help to walk. Get out of the way."


    Joe''s awakening set an ancient system into motion, one originally designed by the The Sanctum to handle those returning from prolonged slumber. The first protocol was a complete isolation procedure. A massive, inflatable plastic enclosure sealed Joe away from the outside world. Medical equipment and mechanical assistants flooded into the room, setting up a sterile environment.


    The examinations began almost immediately. Nine thousand years had passed, and the top priority was ensuring Joe wasn¡¯t carrying ancient pathogens. Despite the advanced medical systems of this era, bacteria and diseases still existed¡ªtiny, invisible threats lurking in the air. Fortunately, the empire¡¯s disease prevention protocols were thorough. Every ancient sleeper and alien visitor underwent the same rigorous scrutiny.


    Joe, however, warranted extra caution. Not only was he a relic of an ancient past, but he had also suffered a dreadful curse. No one could be sure what horrors might still linger in his body, remnants of his old life.


    For a week, Joe endured relentless tests¡ªblood extractions, scans, and mental evaluations. Medical staff surrounded him, monitoring his every move. By the end of the week, the scene shifted. Two clergymen arrived, dismissing the medical personnel and removing the inflatable isolation chamber. The high-tech machinery disappeared, transforming the room back into a grand auditorium. Yet, the atmosphere was different.


    Joe sat alone at a simple chair before a long table. Two clergymen faced him from across the table, their austere expressions framed by the empire¡¯s double-headed eagle emblem and cross displayed behind them. Their questions came rapidly, probing into every corner of his past. Their words carried suspicion, as if they doubted his every answer. Again and again, they questioned his faith and loyalty to the Emperor.


    Frustration boiled over. Slamming his hand on the table, Joe snarled, "What is this? I understood the medical tests¡ªensuring I didn¡¯t bring some ancient plague with me. I even tolerated your mental and intelligence exams to check for brain damage after so long. But this? This feels like an interrogation! Are you treating me as an enemy?"

 Chapter 17 - Inquisitor

    The door creaked open before the clergymen could respond. A figure entered, cloaked in black robes, their face hidden within the shadows of a hood. Their calm voice broke the tension. "Please don¡¯t take offense, Kayvaan. Their intent is not to treat you poorly," the figure said. "We know of your contributions, your legacy. You are the pride of the empire."


    "Then what¡¯s with these two?" Joe snapped, pointing to the clergymen. "They¡¯re grilling me like a criminal!"


    The figure pulled back their hood, revealing themselves. "That¡¯s their job," she said calmly. "I am Inquisitor Elizabeth, and I hold the highest authority here. You¡¯ll answer to me now."


    Joe blinked, momentarily taken aback. Elizabeth¡¯s long, golden hair framed a striking face, her sharp blue eyes cold and unfeeling, like shards of ice. Despite her beauty, her severe expression left no room for warmth or compassion. "Well, well," Joe muttered with a playful whistle. "What a serious face. You¡¯re quite the beauty, though I¡¯d wager smiling isn¡¯t your strong suit."


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the air like frost. "Such frivolity is unwise, Kayvaan. If I were you, I¡¯d refrain from whistling at an inquisitor. It borders on self-destruction."


    Joe smirked, spreading his hands in mock surrender. "And who, exactly, are you people? What gives you the right to question me? Before your great-grandparents were even born, I was the Emperor¡¯s knight and captain to the Raven Guard. What authority do you have over me?"


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t flinch. Her lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Your ignorance isn¡¯t surprising," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I¡¯d thought the reach of our organization was known throughout the galaxy, but apparently not."


    "Sorry, I¡¯ve never heard of this organization. The Inquisition? Sounds like a legal institution."


    ¡°Nine thousand years is a long time,¡± Inquisitor Elizabeth replied calmly. ¡°During those nine thousand years, the Empire has undergone many changes. You¡¯ll need time to adapt, assuming you pass our evaluation.¡± Her tone grew sharper as she continued, "For your cooperation, I think it¡¯s necessary to give you a brief introduction. Ordo Hereticus  deals with those who betray the Emperor; they will assess your loyalty. Meanwhile, the Ordo Malleus, which I represent, handles demons born of Chaos. My task is to determine if you are tainted by it.¡±


    Joe tensed. His voice rose as he slammed his hand on the table. "I fought to the death against Chaos on behalf of the Emperor! I stood as a shield for Sanguinius, taking the blows meant for him. I fell with honor on the battlefield, and now, after awakening, you treat me like a traitor? Do you think I¡¯m someone who would betray the Emperor¡ªor worse, one of those Chaos demons? This is absurd!" His fear, though masked by anger, was apparent. ¡°And demons corrupted by Chaos don¡¯t need trials! You can tell them apart just by looking at them!¡±


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t flinch. Her cold expression remained unshaken. ¡°Sir Kayvaan, tell me¡ªhow much do you truly know about Chaos demons?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Joe, fuming, sat down heavily. ¡°Not much, nor do I need to. I know their necks are weak spots, and if you strike hard enough, they die. That¡¯s all I need to deal with them.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°Then you know nothing. Since the Great Rebellion, the Empire has lived in constant turmoil. Chaos demons are our greatest enemies, having corrupted half of the Space Marines. After Horus''s defeat, they retreated into the Eye of Terror, waging war against the Empire even now. Tell me, do you understand that these forces have persisted since the war you fell in?¡±


    Joe hesitated before giving a slow nod.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Elizabeth pressed. ¡°These bastards, tainted by Chaos, have been a thorn in the Empire¡¯s side for nine thousand years. During your long slumber, they¡¯ve waged countless skirmishes against the legions of the Empire, with occasional large-scale conflicts. But war isn¡¯t their most dangerous weapon.¡± She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. ¡°Their most insidious threat is how Chaos itself corrupts. Even those with wavering resolve can fall prey, seduced and controlled by Chaos. These demons don¡¯t always show their true forms. Some are hideous and unmistakable, yes, but others disguise themselves as loyal servants of the Empire. They hide among us, pretending to be our allies.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice grew fervent, almost reverent. ¡°No one can be trusted. We must remain vigilant, sparing no effort to root out and destroy these creatures until all slaves of Chaos are purged.¡±


    Joe gave a dismissive shrug. ¡°Sounds like the enemy has gotten smarter. So what?¡±


    ¡°No matter how cunning the prey, the hunter always finds it.¡± Elizabeth¡¯s eyes gleamed with intensity as she focused on him. ¡°And you, Sir Kayvaan¡ªyour curse from Slaanesh is clear as day. Even your appearance has changed. The curse has turned you from a Space Marine into¡­a pretty boy. For the love of the Emperor, I hate pretty boys.¡± She paused, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°You¡¯ve been cursed, perhaps altered. For all we know, a demon could be lurking within you, wearing Kayvaan Shrike¡¯s skin.¡±


    The sound of metal warping filled the room as Joe smashed his fist through the table. His voice thundered, ¡°You wretch! Who are you to accuse me of this? You dare speak this way to a captain of the Raven Guard? Do you even understand the weight of your accusations? Yes, I bore the curse, but it¡¯s gone now! I¡¯ve recovered! I am still a captain of the Raven Guard!¡± His voice shook with fury and disbelief. ¡°You base this on speculation? How dare you?¡±


    Elizabeth raised a single brow at the ruined table but remained unfazed. Her voice was calm yet unyielding. ¡°As long as Chaos taint is involved, I have absolute authority. Here, I am above the laws of the Empire. Until your purity is confirmed, your rights are suspended. Your past deeds, your contributions to the Empire, your status¡ªnone of it matters here. Oh, and the Raven Guard?¡± She leaned closer. ¡°They¡¯re gone. Your title is meaningless.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Joe''s voice trembled with shock. ¡°The Raven Guard wouldn¡¯t let that happen! That¡¯s impossible!¡±


    Elizabeth''s voice was cold and deliberate as she spoke. "The Ravens caused all of this. After the Great Rebellion, the Raven Guard was nearly wiped out. They''re undeniably powerful, but even their strength can''t restore your war group to its former glory. There are rumors, however, about the Raven Guard''s surgeries¡ªserious flaws in the process. The success rate is said to be less than one percent."


    Her piercing gaze fixed on Joe as she continued, "Do you understand what that means? One percent isn''t surgery; it''s a massacre. There weren''t many suitable recruits to begin with, and most of them died during the procedure. After that, the Raven Guard fractured, and the Ravens themselves faded into near obscurity. As for the old war group''s activities¡­ think about what fate awaits them."

 Chapter 18 - Ordo Malleus

    Joe''s mind churned as he listened. Memories of the Raven Guard surged within him¡ªimages of their incredible power, their legendary victories, their ability to endure trials no one else could. To him, there was nothing in the galaxy capable of withstanding the Raven Guard''s onslaught. Their motto, Victory or Death, wasn¡¯t just words; it was a declaration of their unyielding spirit.


    The founder of the Raven Guard, Corvus Corax, was a larger-than-life figure to Joe. Noble, righteous, and brilliant¡ªevery accolade Joe could think of fit Raven. Joe respected him only second to the Holy Emperor. But now, hearing Elizabeth''s words, doubt crept in. Could it be true? Could the legendary Raven Guard really have fallen?


    One percent. That number lingered like a shadow in Joe''s mind. It wasn¡¯t just daunting¡ªit was horrifying. Such a slim success rate meant it was nearly impossible for the Raven Guard to replenish their forces. Wars bring inevitable losses, and when replacements can¡¯t keep up with casualties, extinction becomes a certainty.


    And to make it worse, Corvus himself was missing. Joe lowered his head and sank into the chair, feeling a weight in his chest.


    Elizabeth noticed his reaction, a trace of satisfaction flickering in her eyes. Sensing the opportunity, she pressed on, her tone sharp and unforgiving. "If it weren¡¯t for your past achievements, this trial wouldn¡¯t have stopped at words. The Inquisition has methods far worse than this¡ªmethods you wouldn¡¯t want to experience. Cruelty beyond imagination. So I suggest you cooperate. Otherwise, we might determine you¡¯ve been corrupted by Chaos. And you know what happens then."


    Joe glanced up at her, his voice flat. "Purification?"


    "Yes," Elizabeth replied, her voice chillingly calm. "You¡¯d be burned to ashes. And don¡¯t think it takes much to reach that conclusion. If I believe you¡¯ve been tainted, then you¡¯re tainted. I only need a plausible excuse. For instance, your face¡ªit¡¯s clearly not what it used to be. Obviously, you¡¯ve been cursed."


    Joe touched his face, his tone laced with dry humor and doubt. "It¡¯s true my face didn¡¯t look like this before. My skin used to be darker, rougher. Now it¡¯s pale and smooth, but who could blame me? It¡¯s been nine thousand years since I¡¯ve seen the sun."


    Elizabeth¡¯s lips curled into a sneer. She studied his expression closely, searching for fear, panic, or something to confirm her accusations. But she found none. Instead, Joe''s demeanor was calm¡ªresigned, even¡ªthough there was an undeniable heaviness in his eyes.


    Elizabeth frowned slightly, then adjusted her approach. After a pause, her voice softened, though her words remained calculated. "You should know that your behavior earlier was reckless. Whistling at me during a trial? That was a poor decision. People being judged usually have the sense to show their judges some respect."


    She leaned closer, her tone hardening again. "And don¡¯t forget, Slaanesh thrives on indulgence and pleasure. Your flippant attitude could easily be interpreted as evidence of corruption. I¡¯ll be documenting your behavior in detail, and let¡¯s just say it could heavily influence the outcome of this trial."You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Joe stared at her, incredulous. "You¡¯re telling me I might get burned to death because I whistled? And because my face is whiter now?"


    Elizabeth¡¯s reply was cold and serious. "It¡¯s entirely possible. I come from the Ordo Malleus , and I have the authority to decide these matters."


    Joe slumped back in his chair, exasperated. The absurdity of the situation left him momentarily speechless. He knew he had no choice but to play along¡ªfor now. Pride and honor could only carry a man so far when faced with the cold reality of the Inquisition.


    Joe''s thoughts drifted to his mentor, Kayvaan. They¡¯d been through nine thousand years together, and Joe knew Kayvaan¡¯s unyielding devotion to honor. For Kayvaan, "honor is my life" wasn¡¯t just a motto¡ªit was the very core of his being. Joe respected him deeply for that, but he couldn¡¯t share the same unflinching commitment.


    To Joe, honor was important, but survival mattered more. Dying for a slogan or an "iron plate," as he often put it, seemed pointless. It was a dangerous mindset in this era, where strict adherence to honor and loyalty to the Emperor were non-negotiable.


    He sighed inwardly. If the Inquisition saw him as too "flexible," it could isolate him from the Empire¡¯s power structures. Worse, it could cast doubt on his loyalty¡ªa suspicion that would almost certainly lead to his execution.


    The focus of the investigation team wasn''t whether Joe was suspected of betraying the Emperor. That idea was absurd, and even the two judges from the Ordo Hereticus on the team saw no reason to question it. A hero from a legendary era, awakened after millennia, turning against the Emperor? It was an unnecessary line of inquiry. The judges understood this well.


    However, loyalty to the Emperor and devotion to Him as a divine figure were different things entirely. Many Space Marine chapters held steadfast loyalty to the Emperor but stopped short of religious fervor. The judges, aware of these historical and cultural nuances, didn''t question Joe''s loyalty or performance. The harsh words and pointed questions hurled during the interrogation had a different purpose¡ªthey were driven by Judge Elizabeth¡¯s instructions.


    "The more cunning a demon is, the weaker it tends to be," Elizabeth had explained earlier. "Cunning makes them clever, but cleverness often masks fear. And fear is a sign of weakness. This is especially true for demons of Slaanesh. Their very essence is rooted in indulgence and decadence. When those wretched beings find themselves facing humanity''s strength, they falter¡ªespecially against someone like me, a judge of the Ordo Malleus. When their cover is blown, fear takes over, and their flaws are exposed. I need you to strike at him with your words, tear apart his defenses, and push him to fear and anger. That¡¯s when I¡¯ll make my judgment."


    One of the Ordo Hereticus judges had raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "So, you''re assuming our hero is corrupted by Chaos?"


    "Not assuming¡ªspeculating," Elizabeth corrected. "I work with the assumption that he is compromised, that he is an enemy in disguise. My methods will expose the truth, one way or another. If he''s innocent, he will prove it through his responses. It''s a fair process. This isn¡¯t just my way¡ªit¡¯s the way of the Ordo Malleus."


    "Sounds more like a ''guilty until proven innocent'' approach," the judge replied, visibly uncomfortable. The Ordo Hereticus and Ordo Malleus may both have been arms of Imperial justice, but their methods couldn¡¯t have been more different.


    "Call it what you like," Elizabeth said coldly. "I¡¯d rather err on the side of caution and kill millions by mistake than let one corrupted soul walk free."


    Before meeting Joe, Elizabeth and the team painstakingly planned the interrogation. Elizabeth, observing him through a one-way reflective window, watched his every move, every expression. She had expected a straightforward process¡ªSpace Marines weren¡¯t known for subtlety. Joe was supposed to be an overconfident warrior, all strength and no finesse. But the man in the room shattered those expectations.

 Chapter 19 - Alen

    Joe was sharp¡ªalmost unnervingly so. He handled their verbal attacks with the calm precision of a seasoned diplomat. When the questions became pointed and even outright insulting, his anger flared, but he never lost control. Instead, he channeled that anger, answering in a measured tone that neither escalated nor conceded. Elizabeth began to doubt her assumptions. Was this man truly a Space Marine? His calm demeanor and sharp tongue seemed more suited to an ambassador than a warrior.


    Frustrated, Elizabeth abandoned the careful script and stormed into the interrogation room. She tried threats first, but they fell flat. Joe didn¡¯t flinch at the name of the Ordo Malleus, something that would have sent even the most cunning demons into panic. His blank expression, as if she had mentioned some minor clerical office, only deepened her irritation. Demons, no matter how well-disguised, couldn¡¯t fake such nonchalance.


    And the tests¡ªoh, the tests were maddeningly clear. No trace of Chaos corruption marred his body. The purity of his physical condition was almost unsettling. He had no psychic abilities, no hint of taint. The data painted a picture of someone as unblemished as a newborn child.


    The only thing ¡°unusual¡± about Joe was his striking appearance, with skin far too well-maintained for someone who had been in stasis for millennia. There was no evidence to suggest Chaos corruption. In any other case, this would have been enough. A single word from the tribunal would have sealed the fate of the accused. But Joe wasn¡¯t just anyone.


    Messages from various Space Marine unit had started pouring in shortly after Joe''s awakening. Even the Blood Angels, a chapter known for its history of struggles with the Black Rage, sent inquiries. The messages were short, often just asking about Joe''s condition. It was clear these chapters considered him a figure of significant importance¡ªa hero of old, now returned.


    Even more unusual was the High Lords Association¡¯s note, indicating they, too, were watching the proceedings closely. And then there was the God-Emperor Himself. Joe''s body had been personally inspected by the Emperor¡ªa fact that elevated his status to an almost untouchable level.


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t have the luxury of too many thoughts or doubts. Yet, what lingered, gnawing at her, was an inexplicable disgust she couldn¡¯t shake. It wasn¡¯t logical; it didn¡¯t stem from anything tangible. It was her intuition, that elusive ¡°sixth sense¡± women often spoke of. To Elizabeth, this gut feeling was more than a vague premonition¡ªit was a compass, one she trusted deeply. Time and again, her instincts had guided her correctly, and now, they pointed to one man: Joe. Something about him felt wrong, hidden beneath his seemingly perfect surface.


    The interrogation continued, a drawn-out, mind-numbing process. Most of the questions were standard, dull inquiries. But Joe''s responses, or rather, his lack of knowledge, made things far more complicated than Elizabeth had anticipated. He wasn¡¯t being evasive; it was clear he genuinely didn¡¯t understand many of the questions being asked. His bewilderment stemmed from one simple fact: Joe had been asleep for nine thousand years.


    Nine millennia.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    That was longer than entire civilizations had existed, let alone thrived. To Lee, everything about the modern world was foreign, every question requiring an explanation of its own.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Kayvaan?¡± he asked at one point, tilting his head like a curious child.


    Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, exhausted. It wasn¡¯t deliberate obstruction; Joe''s ignorance was genuine. Still, the back-and-forth was infuriating. Every question she asked seemed to boomerang back with another question from him. By the third day, Elizabeth had had enough.


    She closed the case with a hastily written label: Pure. Yet, things were far from over for Joe. Passing the initial review meant undergoing a medical examination, followed by a six-month isolation period at a designated Earth-based church. It was more a symbolic ritual than a practical one¡ªa way for the Empire to monitor its ¡°heroes.¡±


    In truth, the ruling class didn¡¯t want the heroes of the Sanctum to awaken. For the Empire¡¯s leaders, these figures were far easier to manage as revered legends lying in gilded coffins, admired but dormant. A living hero? That was a complication no one wanted. After all, heroes often became more trouble than they were worth.


    _______________________


    Darius  stood outside the old wooden door, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. His heart pounded, and for the eighth time that day, he adjusted his clothing. Today was monumental, and he was determined to look the part.


    The suit he wore had been tailored specifically for this occasion¡ªa retro-style outfit of dark blue and black, exuding both elegance and maturity. At sixteen, Darius  knew his age might work against him, so every detail mattered. He wanted to command respect, even if his youthful face betrayed him.


    After a silent countdown in his head¡ª¡®One, two, three!¡¯¡ªDarius  pushed the door open with determination. But before he could take a step inside, a calm but firm voice cut through the air.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know how to knock?¡±


    Startled, Darius  flushed with embarrassment. He quickly retreated, closing the door behind him, and knocked politely. Knock. Knock. Knock.


    ¡°Come in,¡± the voice said, less stern this time.


    Darius  stepped into the room. It was small, plain, and sparsely furnished, just like every other side chamber in the ancient church. No grand decor or lavish displays. Instead, it was bathed in simplicity.


    Sitting on an old rattan chair was a black-haired young man, his figure framed by the sunlight pouring through an open window behind him. The golden light seemed to embrace him, giving him an almost ethereal glow. He sat with his eyes closed, his expression serene, as if savoring the warmth of the sun.


    It was a peaceful, unassuming sight¡ªone that completely defied Joe¡¯s expectations. This wasn¡¯t the towering, battle-scarred warrior he had imagined. In Darius¡¯s mind, Kayvaan Shrike was supposed to be three meters tall, muscles rippling beneath scars earned on countless battlefields, with a menacing aura of pure danger. Darius had even pictured a river of blood and corpses beneath Darius''s feet. But this¡­ this was almost disappointing.


    Gathering his courage, Darius asked hesitantly, ¡°Excuse me, are you Mr. Kayvaan Shrike?¡±


    The man opened his eyes, and Darius found himself staring into a gaze that was anything but intimidating. Instead, Kayvaan''s eyes radiated a quiet warmth, as gentle and inviting as the sunlight streaming into the room. His face, too, was striking¡ªnot rugged, but beautiful in a way that felt almost otherworldly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kayvaan replied, his voice calm and measured. ¡°You¡¯ve found the right person. I am Kayvaan Shrike, but just Kayvaan will do. And you are?¡±


    Darius bowed slightly out of respect. ¡°My name is Darius Alen Shadowglin. I¡¯m the only descendant of Alen.¡±


    ¡°Alen?¡± Joe''s expression softened further. ¡°Ah, little Alen. I see the resemblance. You¡¯ve inherited his face and expressions¡ªyoung and full of determination. Tell me, is he still alive?¡±

 Chapter 20 - Emperor Reward

    Darius hesitated for a moment before replying, ¡°No. My ancestor died on the battlefield. He¡­ he was struck in the chest, a direct and honorable death, just as he would have wanted.¡±


    Joe closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. After a long silence, he finally opened them again and spoke, his tone steady. ¡°Yes, you are indeed my soldier. So, Darius, what brings you here? You¡¯re the only one who has visited me recently, and I doubt it was easy for you to arrange this meeting.¡±


    Darius nodded, his expression serious. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy at all. There are layers of approvals and countless procedures to go through. Even after getting clearance, the meeting time is strictly limited. Today, I only have half an hour. But I assure you, this level of supervision won¡¯t last much longer. In about two months, the restrictions should be lifted. Please understand¡ªit¡¯s a matter of system and protocol. I appreciate your patience.¡±


    Joe''s expression remained calm as he replied, ¡°I didn¡¯t say it¡¯s a bad thing. In fact, it¡¯s quite suitable for me right now. I spend my days reading and basking in the sun, which gives me the time I need to reacquaint myself with this changed world.¡±


    Darius¡¯s face softened with relief. ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way. The House of Nobles has already started discussing your situation. Once they reach a consensus, they¡¯ll step in. I believe your freedom isn¡¯t far off.¡±


    Hearing this, Joe''s brows furrowed slightly. The mention of the House of Nobles brought back memories he thought he had left behind. He had severed ties with them long ago¡ªwhy would they concern themselves with him now, after nine thousand years? However, he quickly dismissed the thought. Speculating wouldn¡¯t change anything. Some matters required patience. ¡°I understand. That¡¯s good news,¡± Joe said, his tone neutral. ¡°But surely you didn¡¯t come here just to deliver that?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Darius said, a faint smile curving his lips. He reached into his bag and carefully pulled out a small metal box. Holding it as though it were a sacred relic, he placed it on the table in front of Joe. ¡°I came to bring you this. Please, open it.¡±


    Joe''s eyes lingered on the box. Its design was familiar¡ªclassical, even antiquated by today¡¯s standards. Yet, he didn¡¯t touch it. Instead, he asked calmly, ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°This,¡± Darius said solemnly, ¡°is the Emperor¡¯s reward.¡±


    ¡°The Emperor¡¯s reward?¡± Joe''s voice held a trace of curiosity.


    ¡°Yes. During the great rebellion, when the traitor Horus led his forces to the gates of the Emperor¡¯s Palace, the Emperor himself emerged victorious but suffered grievous injuries. After the war, he made his final arrangements and ascended to the Golden Throne, where he remains even now.¡±


    Joe was already familiar with this story. It was the first thing he studied after passing the scrutiny of the Ordo Malleus and being confined here. He had requested books¡ªmany books. Learning about the state of the Empire through reading was his priority, and he had delved deeply into its history.


    Among the accounts that captured his attention, the final battle stood out most vividly. The Empire triumphed, but beneath the surface of those triumphant words lay grim truths. Joe had learned to read between the lines, uncovering the raw and often ugly reality masked by polished narratives.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The fall of the Immortal Wall was swift, and the Chaos Gate failed to hold back the relentless tide of Chaos forces. The Imperial defenders were forced into a desperate retreat. Joe had found a forbidden account, heavily censored, but its few remaining details painted a haunting picture.


    ¡°The mile-wide outer wall of the Imperial Palace was more than just a defensive structure¡ªit was a labyrinth of storage rooms, offices, and workshops. Bloody battles raged through its corridors, and soon, rivers of blood ran ankle-deep, mingling the lifeblood of loyal Imperial soldiers with that of traitors. Not far away, at the Lion¡¯s Gate Spaceport, wave after wave of Chaos Space Marines landed, swelling the enemy ranks. The fall of humanity¡¯s last fortress seemed inevitable.¡±


    Joe''s focus had lingered on the tragic fate of Sanguinius. Stationed at the End Gate with his Blood Angels, he stood as the final bulwark against Chaos. The enemy launched relentless assaults, hoping to breach the gate. Sanguinius alone faced down a monstrous bloodthirster demon and countless traitors, holding the line long enough for the surviving defenders to retreat behind the gate. He sacrificed himself to buy time, falling to the might of Horus in a heart-wrenching clash of power and spirit.


    The records revealed that Horus, desperate to end the war, had ordered his flagship¡¯s shields lowered, inviting the Emperor to confront him directly. It was a gamble¡ªone that ended with Horus¡¯s defeat but left the Emperor mortally wounded. The Chaos forces, leaderless, fled into the Eye of Terror, abandoning their doomed followers to the Empire¡¯s wrath.


    Though victorious, the Emperor could not recover. To preserve his existence, he was entombed within the Golden Throne, neither alive nor dead¡ªa silent guardian watching over humanity for millennia.


    Joe''s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Darius¡¯s clear voice: ¡°After being gravely injured, the Emperor still insisted on carrying out his duties as usual. He personally rewarded the meritorious soldiers and passed fair judgment on the traitors. The reward meant for you was presented during that time. It was a token bestowed by my ancestor, Alen, in honor of your service. Since then, our family has safeguarded it for you. The moment you woke up, the ancient protocols were triggered, and we received the official written notice immediately. I¡¯ve been working tirelessly to meet you in person so that I could hand over this precious reward myself.¡±


    Even though Joe was a time traveler and his feelings for the Emperor weren¡¯t as deeply rooted or fervent as those of his mentor, the weight of Darius¡¯s words struck him like a thunderbolt. For a moment, he simply sat there, stunned, as tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He couldn¡¯t stop them even if he tried.


    Nine thousand years may have separated him from that moment, but it was as if the Emperor and the Empire had never truly abandoned their warriors. For an instant, Joe felt as though time itself had collapsed. Through the ancient box resting on the table, he was transported back to that victorious day. He could almost see the Emperor, bloodied but resolute, seated in his grand hall as he personally honored the brave soldiers. Every warrior, whether present or not, living or fallen, was acknowledged. Those who had been loyal and valiant were awarded with dignity. Their sacrifices had not been in vain¡ªthe Emperor had seen it all and ensured that they were properly recognized.


    For a ruler like that, how could the warriors not have fought until their very last breath?


    Joe reached out, his trembling fingers brushing against the ancient box as though it were the delicate skin of a long-lost lover. ¡°What¡¯s inside?¡± he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Darius replied with a gentle smile. ¡°His Majesty did not specify the contents of the reward. Our family never opened it, nor did we have the authority to do so. It is yours to unveil.¡±


    Joe didn¡¯t ask further questions. He wiped his tears away, took a deep breath, and carefully broke the seal on the box. He opened it with the reverence one might show when unveiling a sacred relic.

 Chapter 21 - Chapter Master

    Inside was a silver key resting atop a roll of parchment, its surface slightly yellowed with age. Nine thousand years had left only faint traces on the well-preserved document.


    Joe gingerly took out the parchment and unfolded it. Written in the Empire¡¯s standard Gothic script, the text read:


    Commission of Appointment


    In recognition of his heroic and exemplary service to the Imperium, and in acknowledgment of his tenure as captain of the Raven Guard, it is hereby decreed that Kayvaan Shrike is granted the authority to establish a new Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes.


    By the will of the High Lords of Terra and the decree of His Immortal Majesty, the Emperor of Mankind, Chapter Master Kayvaan Shrike is charged with the creation of a successor Chapter to the Raven Guard. This Chapter shall bear the honored legacy of stealth, precision, and relentless pursuit of the Emperor¡¯s enemies, hallmarks of its progenitor.


    This Commission grants:


    Rights of Founding: Full authority to recruit, train, and oversee the creation of a new Chapter.


    Heraldry and Insignia: The new Chapter may establish its own unique banner, insignia, and sacred rites in accordance with the Codex Astartes.


    Fleet and Resources: A full complement of void-capable vessels and material to enable interstellar operations.


    Sovereign Mandate: Jurisdiction over a designated region of Imperial space to serve as the Chapter¡¯s base of operations and area of responsibility.


    The new Chapter shall act as an extension of the Emperor¡¯s will, a bulwark against heresy, xenos, and the forces of Chaos. Under Chapter Master Shrike¡¯s guidance, it shall embody the nobility, vigilance, and discipline of the Raven Guard while forging its own path in service to the Imperium.


    By this decree, may Chapter Master Kayvaan Shrike spread the light of the Emperor to the darkest corners of the galaxy and bring glory to His name for millennia to come.


    At the bottom of the parchment was the Emperor¡¯s signature, along with the black seal of the Imperial double-headed eagle. Below the seal, a small note in fine print read, ¡°This is a certified copy. The original has been archived by the Imperial Think Tank.¡±


    Joe turned the parchment over, inspected the key, and even re-examined the box multiple times. Only then did he finally accept that this was no cruel joke or twisted test. The letter was real.


    For a moment, a surge of joy overtook him. He hadn¡¯t expected such a monumental recognition. This appointment wasn¡¯t just timely¡ªit was life-saving. He desperately needed this right now.


    When Joe had first awakened in this strange new reality, the respectful treatment from others had felt pleasant, even flattering. But what followed quickly turned into a nightmare. The relentless scans, the wary inquisitors, and their veiled skepticism had filled him with growing dread.


    At every turn, Joe was plagued by the same fear: would someone storm in and drag him away? Would they discover something¡­ unnatural about him? Was there an evil force hidden inside him that even he wasn¡¯t aware of?


    The Empire was no stranger to travelers like him, but not in the way he had imagined. In this world, ¡°travelers¡± were often malevolent entities¡ªevil spirits from other dimensions that infiltrated the Empire. These beings were hunted down mercilessly, dissected for research, or outright destroyed.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Some could manipulate appearances to tempt humans into corruption. Others burrowed into the depths of their victims¡¯ hearts, sowing chaos on a spiritual level. The most terrifying were those that could take over a human host entirely. Joe had encountered such a demon within Kayvaan¡¯s spiritual consciousness before. Its words had been insidious, its influence devastating.


    Every moment since his awakening, Joe had lived with the haunting fear that he might share their fate. If he was unmasked as a fraud, death by burning would likely be the most merciful outcome.


    Yet, through it all, Kayvaan¡¯s stoic demeanor had become a lifeline for Joe. Even though his appearance completely changed now, the body¡¯s natural habits remained unchanged. Kayvaan¡¯s face was always a mask, showing no emotion regardless of the turmoil beneath. That poker face concealed Joe''s terror well, though it did little to ease the storm raging inside him.


    If anyone suspected he wasn¡¯t the real Kayvaan Shrike, it wouldn¡¯t matter whether the accusation was grounded in truth. Just the shadow of doubt was enough to condemn him as a demon. At that point, no excuses would hold up. Claiming to be an innocent traveler from Earth? Who would believe that?


    But if he had this¡ªthis commission¡ªand make a new marine corps, it would serve as a shield against suspicion.  With that in mind, the overwhelming sense of danger eased, if only slightly. Joe felt a flicker of reassurance amidst the storm of anxiety. Yet, as his thoughts wandered to the numerous obstacles ahead, a heavy sigh escaped him. His outward expression betrayed none of the turmoil within. Instead, he shook his head and forced a bitter smile as he prepared to confirm the Emperor¡¯s reward.


    Before he could act, Darius suddenly stood to attention. His boots clicked sharply together as he straightened, rigid as a javelin. The crisp sound echoed in the room. "Stand at attention!" Darius barked, his voice firm and unwavering. Raising one hand sharply to his temple in salute, he declared loudly, "Darius, a loyal citizen of the Empire, formally applies to Captain Kayvaan Shrike for permission to join the Marine Corps you are about to establish!"


    With that, he withdrew a white envelope from his coat, stepped forward, and placed it on the table with both hands, bowing slightly. "You¡­ you already prepared an application?" Joe asked with a wry smile, though he couldn¡¯t hide his surprise. "You knew what was in this box all along, didn¡¯t you?"


    "Lord, I swear my family never opened this box," Darius replied earnestly. "The Alen family has safeguarded this reward for generations, as ordered by His Majesty the Emperor. However, it wasn¡¯t the only one issued. Thirteen identical rewards were granted back then. Of those, seven were opened immediately, and the contents revealed. Each contained a commission identical in nature, differing only in the name of the appointee. It wasn¡¯t difficult to infer the contents of this one.


    ¡°My ancestor¡¯s greatest wish was to help you¡ªhis Lord¡ªrebuild the Marine Corps. For that goal, he declined countless promotions, choosing instead to fight on the frontlines and accumulate merit. But even so, he never lived to see your awakening. Serving under your command is not just my ambition¡ªit¡¯s a dream my family has carried for generations."


    Joe leaned back, his smile tinged with melancholy. "It¡¯s not that simple," he said, shaking his head. "You¡¯re still young, Darius. You don¡¯t understand what it takes to form a Marine Corps. Even a small-scale group is a monumental undertaking now. Nine thousand years ago, I wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to don my armor and sail into the stars. But now¡­"


    He trailed off, his gaze distant. This world was no longer the one he remembered. Nine thousand years had reshaped everything. The dreams of his past felt like whispers from another life, and a single commission, no matter how precious, couldn¡¯t bridge such a vast chasm.


    Darius, still standing, hesitated but then asked, "Lord, does this mean you¡¯ll decline the commission?"

 Chapter 22 - Darius Request

    Joe didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the Star Marine Corps itself. He knew its significance all too well. The Marine Corps wasn¡¯t just a military force; it was the pride and power of the Empire. Riding massive starships, they roamed the galaxy, protecting humanity and the Emperor¡¯s dominion.


    In the days of the Great Crusade, there were twenty original interstellar legions, each commanded by one of the Emperor¡¯s sons, the primarch. Each legion numbered over ten thousand warriors, the ultimate expression of human strength. They swept through the galaxy, conquering worlds, erasing alien threats, and reclaiming lost colonies. But that was before the Great Rebellion.


    When the rebellion erupted, half the legions turned traitor. The Emperor, mortally wounded, was confined to the Golden Throne. The loyalist forces won, but at a devastating cost. The traitor legions fled to the Eye of Terror, leaving the Empire battered and broken. To prevent another such catastrophe, the remaining legions were dismantled and reorganized under the Codex Astartes, penned by Roboute Guilliman. Their size was strictly limited, with no war group permitted to exceed a hundred warriors.


    "I never imagined they¡¯d entrust me with this kind of power," Joe murmured, exhaling deeply. "No wonder the review process was so strict."


    "Of course," Joe interjected earnestly. "The Empire would never neglect a war hero from the legendary era like you, Captain. If I may ask, sir¡ªwhat¡¯s your final decision on my application?"


    Joe regarded the young man thoughtfully. "You should know that applying to join the Space Marine corps isn¡¯t about glory or recognition. It¡¯s a death sentence. I¡¯ve reviewed the recent records. As for the Old Ravens and other chapters, they¡¯re in a sorry state. Centuries of war have left their gene pools fractured, their technology lost. Many things we once took for granted are now ancient relics.


    "These days, any young man hoping to join the Space Marine must endure brutal tests. Failure often means death. From your attire and demeanor, I can tell you live comfortably and have a good education. Are you certain you want to give all that up? Dedicating yourself to the vast void of the stars isn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªit¡¯s almost a guarantee you won¡¯t survive. Are you really prepared for that?"


    Darius stood firm. His expression was resolute as he replied, "I understand the risks. I may suffer a mental breakdown from the pain, mutate into a mindless monster, or even die on the operating table. I¡¯ve thought about all of it, sir. But despite the dangers, I still want to become Space Marine. I can¡¯t stand this hollow life anymore¡ªliving off the reputation of my ancestors without purpose. I want to follow you and become a true soldier, to fight and, if necessary, die with honor on the battlefield, just like my forefathers."


    Joe''s eyes narrowed. "Why do you feel so strongly about this?"


    Darius straightened his posture, his voice unwavering. "Because I want my life to matter, sir. I want the strength to protect others, to safeguard the Empire and serve the Emperor. I don¡¯t want to waste my life on meaningless indulgences. I need to do something that counts!"Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The words rang with conviction, though Joe knew lofty ideals often masked hidden motives. Still, he nodded. For an Imperial citizen, such awareness was commendable. "Very well," Joe said. "If I succeed in forming a Space Marine corps, I promise you¡¯ll be among the first I consider for recruitment."


    Darius¡¯s face lit up with a rare smile. He saluted sharply. "Thank you, Captain Joe!"


    "Don¡¯t celebrate just yet," Joe cautioned. "Even with the Emperor¡¯s letter of appointment, the outcome isn¡¯t certain. There are still many obstacles ahead."


    The truth weighed heavily on Joe''s mind. The Emperor had been silent, entombed on the Golden Throne for nine millennia. ¡®How much of his power remained?¡¯ Darius couldn¡¯t help but doubt.


    Although the Emperor was now the cornerstone of humanity¡¯s faith, to many, he had become less of a person and more of a symbol¡ªan idolized figure or even a god created by human belief. Yet Joe remembered clearly: this was not what the Emperor had wanted.


    The Emperor had despised worship. In life, he had openly declared himself a man, not a god. A firm materialist, he believed only in what could be seen and proven. He had no patience for the ignorance of superstition, magic, or divine worship.


    The irony was staggering. Now, in this broken age, the Emperor was revered as a deity by the very people he had sought to enlighten. For Joe, it was a bitter reminder of how much the Empire had lost¡ªnot just technology, but also the vision and values that had once united them.


    The emperor once tried to pass laws banning anyone from worshiping him as a god. Yet, despite his efforts, secret religious groups kept appearing, like sparks that wouldn¡¯t extinguish. When the emperor was gravely injured and retreated to the Golden Throne, these underground movements only intensified. Over time, this devotion evolved into a fully-fledged state religion, entrenched in the empire''s long history.


    As the emperor ascended to the status of a divine figure, secular power naturally shifted to others. The true authority within the empire now lay in the hands of an institution known as the The High Lords of Terra, which wielded immense influence over the galaxy.


    On a bright afternoon, young Darius stepped out of Joe''s hut with a contented smile after their conversation. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, night had blanketed the earth, but the skies over the heart of the empire glowed with perpetual light. This place, even during humanity¡¯s darkest moments¡ªthe Great Rebellion¡ªnever dimmed.


    It was the Imperial Palace: the sacred heart of humanity¡¯s dominion over the stars. Here, silence reigned, interrupted only by the steady footsteps of golden-armored Imperial Guards. These warriors, with their unwavering gazes and steadfast hands, stood as eternal sentinels of the emperor¡¯s greatest legacy. Deep within the palace lay humanity¡¯s most treasured artifact: the emperor''s body, preserved as a symbol of undying faith and unity.


    Beyond the sacred chambers of the emperor¡¯s resting place, in the sprawling outskirts of the Imperial Palace, a meeting was taking place in an ornate yet intimate conference hall. The room was grand, but the wooden round table at its center was humble and old, its worn edges hinting at countless decisions made here. Around this table sat four figures engaged in quiet but intense discussions, their voices sometimes rising in heated debate.


    Each decision they made reverberated across the stars. Orders issued here could dictate the survival or destruction of entire galactic systems. For those with ambition, witnessing this scene would be awe-inspiring, even terrifying. This was the The High Lords of Terra, the apex of human power, where humanity¡¯s fate was decided.

 Chapter 23 - The High Lord of Terra

    At this moment, a routine session was underway.


    ¡°The inquisitor considers him a dangerous individual. He must remain under observation and surveillance. We cannot allow him any power or position,¡± declared one of the attendees, an elderly man with a voice as sharp and cold as a winter wind. He wore a luxurious robe adorned with skull motifs of various sizes, their grim presence enhancing his air of authority. His white fur collar reflected his high rank, while his piercing eyes¡ªlike those of an eagle¡ªseemed to see through any lie or pretense. This man was the Lord Inquisitor, a figure who embodied the emperor¡¯s law and judgment.


    ¡°In the Inquisitor¡¯s eyes, everyone is dangerous,¡± countered another attendee, an older man seated opposite. His face was hidden beneath the hood of a plain robe, giving him an air of mystery. In one hand, he held an elegant quill, which he used to annotate an ancient tome resting before him. He was the Master of the Administratum, the empire¡¯s chief administrator, overseeing a vast network of officials and managing the empire¡¯s endless data. ¡°The House of Nobles has already issued an ultimatum. By imperial law, we can only detain him for three more days. After that, he must be released.¡±


    The Lord Inquisitor¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°The House of Nobles? Those gluttons care for nothing but their own interests. They¡¯d sell their souls for a scrap of meat! What do they know of danger? Their greed blinds them.¡±


    ¡°They are safeguarding their rightful privileges,¡± the Master replied calmly. ¡°In doing so, they maintain the stability of the empire. Besides, this individual has already undergone thorough review. The results show no issues. The Inquisitor must let this go¡ªhe is, after all, a hero from a legendary era.¡±


    ¡°A cursed warrior is no hero,¡± the Lord Inquisitor snapped. ¡°Even Horus, once beloved, fell into chaos. If a son of the emperor could succumb, why should we trust this man?¡±


    The Master of the Administratum leaned forward, his tone sharp. ¡°The establishment of the Space Marine Corps and the appointment of its head are His Majesty the Emperor¡¯s will. Are you questioning the emperor¡¯s authority?¡± His gaze swept over the room as he placed a heavy document on the table. ¡°And it¡¯s not just military power we¡¯re discussing here. He will also gain significant control over internal affairs. Take a look for yourselves¡ªthis is the resolution from the noble council.¡±


    With a deliberate gesture, he slid copies of the document to the three others seated at the table. As they read, their faces darkened, their expressions betraying a mixture of shock and unease. ¡°This is outrageous,¡± muttered the third member of the group, his voice laced with frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t follow politics much, but even I know this is asking for trouble. We¡¯ve seen this kind of centralization before in the Empire, and it always leads to disaster. This is practically begging for rebellion.¡±


    The speaker¡¯s voice was distinct¡ªsteady, mechanical, and punctuated by faint static, as if the words were being broadcast from an old radio. His tone carried a strange detachment, reflecting his nature. He was the Fabricator-General of Mars, a powerful figure who embodied the emperor¡¯s technological might. Their forge world supplied the Empire¡¯s armies, overseeing the production of weapons and machinery that fueled imperial conquests.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The followers of the Mechanicus worshipped the Omnissiah, a deity they believed resided within the sacred machinery they tended. Their devotion extended to modifying their own bodies, replacing flesh with metal in pursuit of perfection. The General himself was a prime example. His throat had been irreparably damaged two centuries ago¡ªa death sentence for most humans. But for him, it was merely an inconvenience. With a simple operation, he replaced the ruined organ with a mechanical vocal system. Since then, his voice had carried the cold resonance of artificiality.


    ¡°We can¡¯t allow this,¡± the General continued, his words deliberate. ¡°Granting one person such immense power¡ªa leader of a Space Marine Corps who also holds authority as an Sub-Sector Governors¡ªis a recipe for disaster. This individual would control three entire star systems, not to mention commanding a powerful, elite military force that answers only to him. This level of autonomy is dangerous.¡±


    The room fell into a tense silence. No one needed further explanation to grasp the implications. The Manufacturing Director¡¯s concerns were shared by all present.


    In any functional government, the separation of military and political power was a fundamental safeguard. Consolidating both in a single individual was a direct threat to stability, effectively creating a local warlord. The central government had long used this principle to maintain control, ensuring no one could amass enough power to challenge imperial authority.


    The Star Marine Corps, despite their autonomy, were not exempt from oversight. While they managed their own dominions, traditions, and internal affairs, their territories were deliberately barren, harsh, and resource-poor. This ensured their reliance on imperial support, preventing them from growing too independent or too strong. The unforgiving environments they operated in served dual purposes: forging their warriors¡¯ resilience and curbing their logistical capabilities.


    ¡°Three star systems?¡± The Lord Inquisitor frowned deeply, breaking the silence. ¡°That¡¯s excessive. Is this man from a noble family?¡±


    The Master of the Administratum shook his head. ¡°The surname Shrike doesn¡¯t belong to any prominent house. His father was a minor noble, more interested in indulgence than governance. But his grandfather¡ªah, now there¡¯s a man you might recognize: Veyron Shrike, one of th Rogue Traders¡±


    ¡°Veyron?¡± The Lord¡¯s brows lifted. ¡°The renowned Pioneers ?¡±


    The Master nodded. ¡°The same. He¡¯s credited with mapping over five percent of the Eastern Fringeern Star Region¡ªplanets, routes, preliminary explorations, all thanks to Veyron and his team. His influence inspired others to map an additional fifty percent of the region. The emperor himself rewarded him, and among the prizes were the three star systems in question.¡±


    He paused, then listed the names of the galaxies. The others exchanged blank looks. ¡°It¡¯s not surprising you don¡¯t recognize them,¡± The Master said dryly. ¡°The Empire¡¯s vastness makes it impossible to remember every territory.¡±


    The vastness of the empire stretched far beyond what the naked eye could perceive. As beautiful as the constellations were, as majestic as the Milky Way appeared in the night sky, every single star visible belonged to the empire¡¯s territory. And what the human eye could see was but a mere fraction of the whole.


    In the depths of the dark universe lay countless stars hidden from view, their light too faint or distant for even the best astronomical telescopes. Beyond these, in the infinite expanse, were territories claimed by humanity that no instrument could reveal. The empire was so immense that even the most dedicated scholars couldn¡¯t memorize all the planets under its dominion.

 Chapter 24 - The Galaxy

    Opening an old-fashioned flat star map of the Milky Way provided only a simplistic perspective. Scholars divided the galaxy into five regions. At the center was the Segmentum Solar, home to Terra and the solar system. This heart of the Imperium was densely populated, hosting many famous worlds. Surrounding it were four regions: the Segmentum Obscurus to the north, the Segmentum Tempestus to the south, the Segmentum Pacificus to the west, and the Segmentum Ultima to the east.


    Among these, the Eastern Fringe within Segmentum Ultima was the largest, occupying much of the galaxy. However, it was a wild, sparsely populated frontier where the Imperium¡¯s influence was weakest. Many of the threats to humanity originated here, making it both a danger and an opportunity.


    In the Imperial Palace, the Master of the Administratum traced his finger across the holographic star map, pointing to a distant cluster in the Eastern Fringe Star Field. ¡°The three star systems are located in this region,¡± he announced.


    The Lord Inquisitor frowned slightly. ¡°That¡¯s quite far,¡± he said. ¡°Does the empire even have control over that area?¡±


    The Master hesitated, then admitted, ¡°Even the Emperor¡¯s will struggles to reach such a distant place.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ inconvenient,¡± The Lord replied, his voice laced with skepticism.


    At first, the reward seemed extraordinarily generous¡ªthree entire star systems, a prize of almost unfathomable scale. But as they examined the map, the reality became clear. These star systems, while vast in number, were strategically insignificant. They were located so far from the core of the empire that even the Emperor¡¯s influence waned there.


    ¡°If this is the case,¡± the Fabricator-General chimed in, his voice mechanical and cold, ¡°then I have no objections. The empire¡¯s presence in the Eastern Fringe is already tenuous at best. We can¡¯t effectively supply resources or offer military protection to a place so remote. A local force would be essential to establish a foothold in such a hostile region.¡±


    The Master of the Administratum nodded in agreement, a faint smile playing on his lips. ¡°Exactly. These three star systems have been fortunate to remain untouched by major threats for the past nine thousand years, but we can¡¯t predict what the future holds. A stable human colony there will allow us to expand our influence into the Eastern Fringe, supporting both exploration and security. It serves the empire¡¯s long-term interests.¡±


    ¡°And he will become a sentinel for the empire,¡± the Lord Inquisitor added. ¡°Evidence suggests new threats are emerging in the Eastern Fringe¡ªgreen-skinned orks, Tau, and others we barely understand. This region remains a dangerous frontier. Even if this Kayvaan doesn¡¯t turn out to be completely loyal, the harm he could do from such a remote position is minimal. More importantly, he can help us identify and understand the enemy.¡±


    The discussion seemed to be heading toward agreement when a deep, gravelly voice broke the momentum. ¡°You¡¯re all getting ahead of yourselves,¡± rumbled the Lord Commander. He was an imposing figure, with a square jaw and a chest adorned with medals that spoke of countless battles fought in the Emperor¡¯s name. As the leader of the Astra Militarum, his words carried weight.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Becoming an Sub-Sector Governors is one thing,¡± he continued, his voice as steady as a war machine. ¡°But the leader of a Space marine Chapter? That¡¯s another matter entirely. You cannot hand out such a title lightly.¡±


    The Master of the Administratum tilted his head. ¡°He¡¯s a war hero¡ªa veteran of the legendary Raven Guard. He holds a direct commission from the Emperor himself. Why wouldn¡¯t he qualify?¡±


    The Lord Commander¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°By qualifications alone, he¡¯s more than capable. But have you reviewed his medical records carefully? Due to that strange curse he suffered, his body has reverted to an almost ordinary human state. While he may look unchanged, his internal injuries remain. The most recent examinations confirm that his body can no longer endure another enhancement surgery.¡±


    A heavy silence filled the room. Finally, the Master of the Administratum broke it with a sigh. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, there¡¯s no point in discussing further. But I must ask¡ªhow do you intend to handle the Emperor¡¯s will in this matter?¡±


    "Of course, I will follow the Emperor¡¯s will," the Lord Commander said calmly. "However, the Space Marines have their own traditions, and I cannot interfere with their practices. I do know one thing, though: it¡¯s impossible for a weak person to become one of them, let alone rise to the position of chapter master. The group will conduct their own assessment, as they always do, to ensure Kayvaan is fit for the battlefield. There¡¯s no need to worry about this matter. Let¡¯s focus on more pressing concerns."


    "I understand." The Master of the Administratum nodded in agreement. Wasting no time, he shifted the discussion to the next topic. The Empire was vast, and new problems arose daily, each demanding immediate attention. There was always too much to resolve and never enough time.


    ____________________


    *From this part onward I will use Kayvaan as Joe already become him.


    "You¡¯re saying I have the right to inherit the family estate?" Kayvaan stared at the white-haired old man in front of him, disbelief etched on his face. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Today¡¯s been¡­ surreal. First, the Emperor¡¯s appointment letter, and now a notice of inheritance..."


    The old man stood tall, exuding an air of authority and dignity. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black butler¡¯s uniform, his white gloves pristine, he looked as though he had stepped out of an oil painting from a bygone era. His silver-white hair was neatly curled, and gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose added a scholarly touch. This was no ordinary butler¡ªhe was a special envoy from the House of Nobles.


    "This should not come as a surprise, Lord Kayvaan," the old man said, his gaze steady. "The responsibilities of the Shrike family fall to you now. By inheriting the name ''Shrike,'' you¡¯ve also inherited its obligations." He leaned forward slightly, his voice firm. "This is not a duty you can run from again, is it?"


    "Run away? Of course not." Kayvaan¡¯s thoughts raced. ¡®Why would I run from something like this? This is an opportunity, not a burden¡¯. He smirked inwardly, reflecting on the irony of the situation. After all, the Kayvaan who had fled his family years ago was a brash teenager in the throes of rebellion, not the man he had become.


    The life and name Kayvaan had inherited were far from ordinary. His grandfather had been a legendary pionner who was granted a title and a fief by the Emperor himself, becoming one of the Sub-Sector Governors. In the Empire, these governors and nobles followed an ancient hereditary system, similar to the feudal traditions of medieval Europe. Titles were passed down through bloodlines, not merit. Unlike their medieval counterparts who ruled over land, Sub-Sector Governors ruled entire star system.

 Chapter 25 - Inheritance

    On their respective worlds, planetary governors wielded near-absolute power. They could establish their own laws, design their political systems, and dictate social norms. Some planets still practiced archaic systems like slavery simply because their governors allowed it, while others were barely governed at all. The Imperium maintained a hands-off policy unless a governor openly rebelled. As long as tithes were paid and loyalty to the Emperor remained unquestioned, a governor¡¯s rule was their own.


    In his youth, Kayvaan had despised the idea of living under his father¡¯s shadow as a noble. He had wanted to prove his worth through his own abilities, not by relying on his family name. That determination had driven him to leave, eventually crossing paths with Corvus Corax, the Raven Guard primarch¡ªone of the Emperor¡¯s sons and the founder of the chapter.


    Under Corax¡¯s guidance, Kayvaan had risen to prominence as a Space Marine. He fought valiantly for the Emperor, the Raven Guard, and humanity itself. His efforts earned him countless honors, yet none of his achievements could erase his name or lineage. No matter how far he climbed, he remained Kayvaan Shrike¡ªthe heir to a Sub-Sector Governorship.


    ¡°Who hasn¡¯t made foolish choices in their youth?¡± the old man said with a small smile. ¡°But we grow, mature, and learn to shoulder the responsibilities tied to our names.¡±


    ¡°If inheriting the governorship is my responsibility, I will accept it.¡± Kayvaan straightened, his tone resolute. ¡°Still, there¡¯s something I don¡¯t understand. Nine thousand years have passed. How is this inheritance still intact?¡±


    ¡°Time is irrelevant,¡± the envoy replied. ¡°Even if the universe itself were to collapse, your family¡¯s claim over the three systems would remain. The only exception would be if your family had no heirs left, in which case the Imperium would reclaim the systems. But that has never happened, and the Navis Nobilite exists to ensure it never does. Protecting the rights of noble families like yours is essential for the stability of the Imperium. Nobles are its foundation.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ I can only express my gratitude.¡±


    ¡°This is our duty, Lord Kayvaan. However, your thanks should go to your sister. Without her efforts, the lands rightfully belonging to your family might have been seized long ago.¡±


    At the mention of his sister, Kayvaan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°If we¡¯re discussing my sister, then I have a question.¡±


    ¡°Please, go ahead.¡±


    ¡°When I left home, wasn¡¯t the governorship meant for her? My father had more than one child. The title didn¡¯t have to fall to me. My sister had just as much of a right to inherit as I did. By all logic, the governorship should have passed to her descendants. So why is it coming back to me now?¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "This is a family matter, and I don''t know much about it," the old man said, bowing slightly. "I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t provide more insight, but there¡¯s no need to worry. Within three days at most, your detention will be lifted. Your family has already sent a ship to retrieve you. If the journey goes smoothly, it should arrive in three months. When that time comes, you¡¯ll naturally learn the full story from them."


    Only a fool would speak on matters they didn¡¯t understand, and he was no fool. A person who couldn¡¯t control their words would never be trusted with a role as important as steward of the Navis Nobilite. He nodded, suppressing the curiosity bubbling within him. After all, compared to nine thousand years, three months wasn¡¯t very long. Soon enough, he¡¯d learn everything.


    "I understand," he replied.


    The old man inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Sir, I¡¯ve brought some documents for you today. These include a general overview of the three systems under your control. Please take a look." With that, he opened a sleek black briefcase and carefully laid a dozen neatly bound files on the table before Kayvaan.


    Kayvaan picked up one of the files and skimmed through it, but the dense language and technical terms quickly made his head spin. Tossing it aside with a sigh, he said, "Can you summarize this for me instead? I understand how to lead a world, but these imperial bureaucratic documents? They''re like deciphering a xenos script."


    "It would be my honor," the old man said graciously. He approached the table, pulling a folded star map from the files. Spreading it out, he pointed to three faint markings. "Here are the general locations of the systems under your governance. Unfortunately, the Navis Nobilite hasn¡¯t compiled a detailed star map of the Eastern Fringe yet. This map will have to suffice for now."


    Kayvaan frowned as he studied the map. "The Eastern Fringe? And it¡¯s this far from the Imperium¡¯s core?"


    The old man nodded. "That¡¯s correct. While you hold claim to three star systems, they¡¯re located in a remote corner of the Eastern Fringe, far beyond the reach of the Emperor¡¯s direct influence. To the Imperium, the Eastern Fringe is an undeveloped frontier, often considered untamed. The systems under your control are in an especially isolated region."


    Kayvaan''s brow furrowed deeper. "So, I¡¯ve been granted three star systems, but they¡¯re in the middle of nowhere? That¡¯s a rare arrangement for any Sub-Sector Governor."


    "It is indeed rare," the old man agreed. "An interstellar consul like yourself, governing multiple systems, is almost unheard of. The only drawback, as you noted, is their remoteness."


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. "What happens if those areas are attacked? How does the Imperium respond?"


    The old man didn¡¯t flinch at the question. "Under normal circumstances, the Imperium rarely allocates military forces to defend such distant territories."


    Kayvaan snorted. "You don¡¯t need to tell me that. I¡¯ve served as a Space Marine¡ªI know how the Imperium operates. If a planet is attacked, the surface troops try to hold the line. If they fail, the commander retreats, abandoning the planet while summoning an Imperial battle group for a counterattack. That¡¯s how it works in well-connected territories. In remote areas like this? They¡¯d likely leave it to burn."


    He leaned back in his chair, suspicion flaring in his chest. "Three star systems¡ªsuch immense power handed over so casually to someone who just woke up from stasis? Something¡¯s off here. Wait a minute." His eyes sharpened. "You mentioned earlier that these systems are ''so far away that even the Emperor''s will cannot reach.'' That wasn¡¯t just a figure of speech, was it?"


    The old man hesitated, then sighed. "I assumed you were already aware. My apologies. No, that phrase isn¡¯t metaphorical. Allow me to explain."

 Chapter 26 - Immaterium

    Kayvaan gestured for him to continue, his expression tense.


    The old man straightened, speaking with careful deliberation. "After the Horus Heresy, His Majesty the Emperor was interred on the Golden Throne. But the Golden Throne isn¡¯t merely a ceremonial seat. It¡¯s an ancient, arcane mechanism directly linked to the Astronomican. His Majesty¡¯s essence sustains the Astronomican, guiding the light that ensures safe passage through the Warp and shielding humanity from the horrors of Chaos. May the Emperor¡¯s eternal vigilance protect us all."


    Kayvaan''s eyes widened. "Are you saying these galaxies are so far away that even the Immaterium doesn¡¯t reach them?"


    The old man met his gaze with a faint trace of pity. ¡°It¡¯s complicated, but you can say yes. That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying."


    The galaxy  is now vast beyond comprehension, far too enormous for humanity to fully grasp. Take the Milky Way, for instance¡ªit exists, sprawling and silent, doing nothing yet humbling in its sheer enormity. Even just the Milky Way alone could bring an empire to its knees, its size overwhelming enough to instill despair in humanity about its own insignificance.


    In a city, you measure distances in meters as you walk. Traveling by car between cities? You¡¯d use kilometers. But when you start thinking about traveling between stars or galaxies within the Milky Way, you measure in light-years. What¡¯s a light-year? It¡¯s the distance light travels in a straight line over the course of a year. Considering light can circle Terra seven and a half times in just one second, the distance it covers in a year is beyond staggering.


    The closest galaxy to our solar system is Alpha Centauri, a triple-star system. Among its stars, Proxima Centauri is only 4.22 light-years away. That means even if we could travel at the speed of light, it would still take over four years to reach it.


    Even with light-speed capabilities, traveling through the vastness of the galaxy is a journey of immense proportions. Thankfully, the universe we know isn¡¯t all there is. Our familiar cosmos is but a fragment of a greater existence. Beyond lies an independent, parallel dimension often referred to as "different space." People call it by many names depending on their culture¡ª"chaos," "another world," "ether," or "Immaterium." Regardless of the term, it¡¯s a realm separate from our reality.


    Humanity¡¯s scientific endeavors have long aimed to explore and exploit these other spaces, and the greatest achievement so far has been the development of interspace navigation. Think of it like the "space jump" technology you¡¯d see in classic sci-fi novels. Ships enter this other dimension, ride its currents for a while, and then re-emerge, having traveled several light-years in what feels like just a few days.


    Interspace navigation revolutionized humanity, propelling it from the age of horse-drawn carts into the realm of starships. Galactic distances that once seemed unfathomable became manageable. Yet, the journey was far from simple. The Immaterium, a realm of chaos and psychic energy, is filled with dangers and mysteries. Navigating through it was perilous¡ªuntil the Astronomican came into existence.


    The Astronomican, powered by the Emperor¡¯s unmatched psychic might, serves as a lighthouse amidst the unpredictable tides of the Immaterium. Anchored on Terra, its psychic glow pierces the Warp, guiding starships safely through its chaotic currents. But beyond its range, navigation becomes treacherous. Without its light, traveling through the Immaterium is akin to stumbling blindfolded across a storm-tossed sea, where every step could lead to disaster.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    This limitation defines the reach of the empire. The regions illuminated by The Astromonican are the extent of the Imperial Corps¡¯ effective control. Anything beyond is wild and untamed. In remote areas under attack, the empire might deploy forces¡ªif resources allow. But in regions so distant that even the emperor¡¯s will cannot extend, the outcome is inevitable. Those places are abandoned, left to their fate.


    Technically, all planets in the galaxy fall under the emperor¡¯s domain, but the reality is far from ideal. Even within the tower¡¯s glow, the empire struggles to maintain order, let alone in worlds outside its light. To the empire¡¯s residents, Kayvaan''s newly granted fiefdom was considered the frontier¡ªwild, unprotected, and isolated.


    "Sir, there¡¯s no need to worry," said an old man, trying to reassure Joe. "Your fiefdom hasn¡¯t seen a large-scale invasion by alien creatures in the past nine thousand years. It¡¯s likely to remain peaceful for the next nine thousand."


    Kayvaan frowned. "Or it could be overrun tomorrow by something emerging from the depths of the universe. And the empire wouldn¡¯t lift a finger to save it."


    The old man sighed. "I won¡¯t deny it. That¡¯s a possibility."


    "I understand," Kayvaan said, staring at the letter of appointment on the table, its weight far heavier than the parchment it was written on.


    Three days later, Kayvaan''s confinement and surveillance were lifted. For the first time since his awakening, he stepped outside and felt the fresh, free air. Waiting at the monastery¡¯s door was Darius, his ever-cheerful companion. "Welcome back to the world!" Darius said with a grin. "Any plans for the near future? Never mind, let¡¯s discuss it in the car."


    They climbed into an old black classic car, its engine wheezing like an asthmatic elder. It groaned to life and slowly carried them away from the monastery, leaving behind the scent of grass and trees. As they turned a corner, Kayvaan found himself in a starkly different world¡ªa sprawling city of towering steel structures.


    "I''m surprised. Terra is really like this now. The monastery you were in before is one of the few places left with actual green space. The land here is so expensive that there¡¯s no other choice but to build up or out. And as the Empire gets stronger, Terra¡¯s value keeps climbing. Nobles from across the galaxy need offices in the Imperial capital. Wealthy people from everywhere are desperate to buy property here. That¡¯s why Terra has turned into one massive city.


    ¡°I read somewhere that Terra used to have a ''sea.'' They said it was like a gigantic bathtub, endless to the eye, with salty water. Is that true?"


    "Of course it''s true. Are you saying there¡¯s no sea left on Terra?"


    "Nope. According to books, the mountains have been flattened and the seas drained. But I¡¯ve never seen mountains, rivers, or oceans myself. I¡¯ve lived on Terra my whole life, and all I know is what you see now¡ªa sprawling metropolis packed with people and buildings. Honestly, I¡¯m tired of it. These days, only the wealthiest nobles still have their private green spaces or monasteries."


    Kayvaan didn¡¯t want to dwell on the topic. He wasn¡¯t an environmentalist, and the state of the planet wasn¡¯t something he had the energy to care about. Right now, his focus was on more immediate matters. "So, where are we going now?"


    "My place," Darius said, his tone casual. "You can stay there for now. The festival just ended, and finding a place to rent right now isn¡¯t easy. Do you have any plans for the near future?"

 Chapter 27 - Helpless

    ¡®Plans?¡¯ Kayvaan glanced out the car window at the unfamiliar cityscape of Terra and felt a twinge of helplessness. ¡®Plans? What do I even want to do? Go back to the Raven Guard? No. That woman was right.¡¯ When Kayvaan looked into the Empire¡¯s records, he found that there were glaring flaws in the surgeries performed on the Raven Guard. On top of that, the primarch itself was missing, and it was hard to say if the chapter still existed. Even if it did, Kayvaan wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to go back.


    His feelings about them were¡­ complicated. Part of him felt a longing for the place he once lived and fought. Yet another part feared what he might find¡ªor who might still be there. His brothers? Would there even be anyone left? It was entirely possible they had all fallen on the battlefield. After all, Astartes didn¡¯t fear death or the passage of time.


    But returning to the battlefield, shedding the last drop of blood for the Empire? That wasn¡¯t what he wanted anymore. Maybe the original Kayvaan¡ªbefore this body had been possessed¡ªhad that kind of resolve. But the current Kayvaan wasn¡¯t the same. He was a young man from a peaceful era on Earth. That level of sacrifice and duty wasn¡¯t something he aspired to.


    A romantic life as a noble in this strange world? That seemed laughable. His title was inherited from a minor noble family in some backwater region, with a fiefdom in name only. In the shadow of Terra¡¯s elites, his family¡¯s influence was no more significant than that of a mid-level bureaucrat. Romance and indulgence? Hardly an option when you lacked power and money.


    For now, though, dreams and ideals had to take a back seat. There were more pressing matters.


    Survival! From everything Kayvaan had read, the Empire¡¯s special institutions¡ªthe ones tasked with dealing with Chaos demons¡ªhad their sights set on him. It might have been because his body bore the curse of an evil god from the ¡°Great Rebellion,¡± drawing their unwanted attention.


    At first, Kayvaan hadn¡¯t fully grasped what the Inquisitor was. After all, such organizations didn¡¯t exist during the golden age when the Emperor still walked among the people. But living in the past wasn¡¯t an option. During his time under house arrest, Li had spent countless hours reading about the Inquisitor.


    To sum it up in the simplest terms, the Ordo Malleus was a group of paranoid zealots with nearly limitless authority. Their worldview was stark: if there was one enemy outside the Empire, then there were a hundred enemies hidden within. Their mission? Root out any taint and purify it¡ªusually by reducing the accused to ashes. If they happened to be wrong? Well, that was just bad luck for the victim. According to their logic, the sacrifice was justified to protect the Empire.


    And if you were lucky, your ashes might make it to the Imperial Cemetery¡ªassuming they hadn¡¯t been mixed with others¡¯¡ªand someone remembered your name to grant you a proper funeral. Kayvaan had no desire to cross paths with them again. Nothing good ever came from dealing with the Inquisitor.


    Looking back at his initial trial, Kayvaan couldn¡¯t help but feel a chill. The words of the woman named Elizabeth had been no empty threat. She was dead serious. If she had caught even a hint that Kayvaan wasn¡¯t truly Kayvaan¡ªthat another soul had taken over this body¡ªshe would have wasted no time. She would have taken great pleasure in making him her personal project, ensuring his trial ended in a fiery ¡°purification.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    What made the situation even more devastating was that she had every right to act as she pleased. If she wanted, she could even kill Kayvaan with just a shred of suspicion and some flimsy evidence¡ªlegally. The law was on her side, and Kayvaan understood this all too well.


    After nine thousand years, Kayvaan had absorbed all the experiences of his past life. He knew his own childhood memories better than his predecessor. He could impersonate Kayvaan Shrike so perfectly that no one should be able to notice any inconsistencies. But none of that could extinguish the fear simmering in his heart. Because if she decided to act on her suspicions and wanted him dead, she wouldn¡¯t even need a scrap of concrete evidence.


    Kayvaan wanted to curse out loud. ¡®What kind of insane laws did that bastard come up with? What happened to basic human rights?¡¯ But the harsh reality stared him in the face. The Empire always claimed to protect the rights of its citizens, but it also demanded that personal interests unconditionally serve the collective good¡ªor, more specifically, the Empire¡¯s interests. Anyone who had the slightest understanding of how the system worked knew that the so-called "human rights" were nothing more than a facade.


    If Kayvaan were still powerless and imprisoned like he had been just days ago, this noble probably wouldn¡¯t have paid him much attention. But now? Now he was a leader¡ªa leader of a Space Marine regiment that was about to be established, with authority over three entire galaxies.


    In his position, Kayvaan had no choice but to play his part. To convincingly pose as Kayvaan Shrike, he would have to act like a passionate, battle-hungry warrior. But to ensure his own survival, he needed to stay far from the Empire¡¯s central power. The Eastern Fringe, remote and distant, seemed like the perfect escape. What¡¯s wrong with being in the middle of nowhere? At least there, he wouldn¡¯t live under constant surveillance.


    And hadn¡¯t it been said that his hometown hadn¡¯t suffered any large-scale attacks for the past nine thousand years? Maybe he could gamble on the next nine thousand being equally uneventful.


    But was he really here just to passively await his fate? After nine millennia of imprisonment, countless lessons learned, and endless knowledge absorbed, had he really been brought into this new world just to wait for death? Would he leave everything up to luck and live in constant fear, hoping disaster wouldn¡¯t find him? ¡°What a joke!¡± Kayvaan growled, clenching his fists. I¡¯m not that helpless kid anymore.


    ¡°Sir? Did you say something?¡± Darius asked, glancing over as he drove.


    ¡°I said, don¡¯t look at me! Watch the road!¡± Kayvaan snapped.


    Darius jerked the wheel to avoid a vehicle that suddenly swerved into their lane. The old car wobbled before returning to the road, cruising steadily again. Lee let out a sigh. ¡°Death really is everywhere. I can¡¯t afford to fall like this. No matter what happens, I need to form my Space Marine chapter.¡±


    ¡°Of course! How could we die in something as meaningless as a car accident?¡± Darius laughed. ¡°If we¡¯re going to die, it should be in an epic battle at your side!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself,¡± Kayvaan said seriously. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he asked, ¡°Darius, if someone¡¯s body can no longer handle transformation surgery, can they still become a member of a Space Marine?¡±


    ¡°What? No way! People who haven¡¯t undergone transformation surgery can¡¯t even begin to compare to those who have. It¡¯s not just about strength¡ªit¡¯s their bones, muscles, reflexes, speed, and ability to recover from injuries. An ordinary person would be like a child fighting an adult compared to a standard space warrior.¡±


    ¡°And there are no weaklings in the Space Marine,¡± Darius added.


    ¡°Exactly. So, let me ask you¡ªwhat if someone once had the surgery but, due to unforeseen circumstances, reverted back to being a normal human? And what if their body can¡¯t undergo the procedure again?¡± Kayvaan asked calmly. ¡°What happens then?¡±

 Chapter 28 - Astartes Monatery

    ¡°What?!¡± Darius¡¯s hands shook, and the car swerved dangerously again. This time, Kayvaan grabbed the wheel, steadying it. ¡°You¡ªyou¡¯re not serious! You¡¯re saying you can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain when we get home,¡± Kayvaan interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die in a car crash, okay?¡±


    The next day, Kayvaan declined Darius¡¯s offer to show him around Terra. He wasn¡¯t in the mood for sightseeing¡ªnot when his own future was so uncertain. Besides, Terra wasn¡¯t exactly a tourist haven anymore. The planet had been transformed into a sprawling political and religious megacity, stripped of its natural beauty. Mountains had been leveled, seas drained, and every corner of the planet was covered in towering buildings, orderly streets, and ornate sculptures.


    Instead, Kayvaan had Darius take him to the Terra headquarters of the Space Marines. Their destination was an ancient monastery perched atop a colossal skyscraper.


    To Darius, the sight was almost surreal. A medieval-style monastery, complete with stone arches and stained-glass windows, sat atop a gleaming, ultramodern skyscraper. It looked as though someone had plucked the monastery from a serene mountain landscape and awkwardly placed it in the middle of a futuristic city. The clash of classical and modern styles was bizarre, to say the least.


    ¡°This¡­ this is the Terra headquarters of the Space Marines,¡± Darius said, his voice trembling with excitement. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever seen pictures of it in magazines. This is the holy ground for warriors across the Empire. The Astartes Monastery! I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m actually here. This is a blessing from the Emperor himself!¡±


    ¡°So, this is the famous Astartes Monastery.¡± Kayvaan stood at the entrance, looking up at the towering structure. A strange mix of emotions churned within him as he took in the sight. It was awe-inspiring, yes, but also deeply unsettling. A place like this wasn¡¯t just a building¡ªit was a symbol of everything that now bound him. The world Kayvaan once knew was gone, replaced by something unrecognizably different.


    "Hey, you two! What are you doing standing around here?" A towering man, nearly three meters tall and built like a fortress, approached them. Clad in a monk¡¯s robe, his tone carried a sharp edge of reproach. "Don¡¯t you know the festival is over? Civilians are only allowed here during special events. This area is off-limits to the public otherwise. And how did you even get this far? What are the guards down there doing?"


    "We¡¯re not here for a sightseeing trip," Darius replied calmly. "Master Kayvaan and I are here to handle the formalities for creating the Space Marine Corps."


    "You¡­ what did you just say you¡¯re here to create?"


    "The Space Marine Corps," Darius repeated, emphasizing each word. "We¡¯re here to complete the necessary procedures."


    The guard squinted at them skeptically. "Well, yes, the procedures are handled here. But let me make this clear¡ªprocedures for something as important as forming a corps can¡¯t just be handled by any random people. You two look like civilian staff, and you¡¯re not even allowed inside. These matters have to be dealt with personally by the leader of the corps."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "This man, Lord Kayvaan Shrike, is the leader of the Space Marine Corps," Joe said, gesturing towards Lee. "So, can we go in now?"


    The guard blinked at them in disbelief, then burst into laughter. "Are you joking? Him? Listen, I don¡¯t know which noble family you crawled out of, but let me remind you If you¡¯re trying to stir up trouble, you won¡¯t like how it ends. Now, go find somewhere else to play."


    He reached out to push them away, but before his hand made contact, Kayvaan moved. His hand darted out like a striking snake, clamping onto the guard¡¯s wrist. With a smooth, almost effortless motion, he pulled and flipped the giant guard over his head. The man¡¯s massive body soared through the air and slammed onto the ground with a heavy thud.


    Kayvaan turned back towards the iron door as if nothing had happened, pulling a rope that rang a clear, resonant bell. The guard, still sprawled on the ground, lay there blinking up at the blue sky. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. One moment he¡¯d been standing his ground, and the next, he was flying through the air like a piece of discarded paper. His entire body felt weightless during the throw. How had this shorter, leaner man¡ªbarely over 1.75 meters¡ªmanaged such a feat? Was it magic? Some kind of psychic ability? He had no answers.


    Even Darius, who had witnessed the whole thing, was stunned. His gaze flicked between Kayvaan and the guard. It made no sense. This wasn¡¯t brute strength¡ªit was something else entirely. The bell''s chime shattered the tense silence, snapping the guard out of his daze. Embarrassment and anger flashed across his face as he scrambled to his feet. Roaring in indignation, he jumped at Kayvaan.


    Before he could close the distance, the iron door creaked open, and a deep, commanding voice echoed out. "What¡¯s going on here?"


    The guard froze mid-step, his expression shifting to panic. "Captain! These two tried to force their way in, and¡­ and he attacked me!"


    A massive figure stepped out from the shadows of the monastery, into the sunlight. He was even taller than the first guard, towering over three meters, with a terrifying scar slashing across his face from left to right, splitting his visage into two distinct halves. His voice was low and gravelly, like the rumble of an old engine. "You¡¯re telling me two ordinary civilians overpowered you?"


    The guard, McCain, stammered. "It¡­ it wasn¡¯t like that. I let my guard down for a second, and he¡­ he attacked me!"


    The captain cut him off with a roar that seemed to shake the ground. "Enough! Stand at attention!"


    McCain snapped to attention, his face burning red with humiliation, though his eyes still glared at Kayvaan. The captain loomed over him, his scorn palpable. "Let me get this straight. You were taken down by someone you¡¯re calling an ¡®ordinary civilian.¡¯ Then, instead of recovering your dignity, you decided to attack from behind? McCain, where is your honor? You¡¯ve embarrassed yourself."


    McCain looked as though he wanted to argue, but the captain silenced him with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. Turning his attention to Kayvaan and Darius, the captain¡¯s tone shifted, though it was no less stern. "Now, as for you two. It takes some guts to cause a commotion here. Care to explain yourselves?"


    "My friend and I came here on official business," Kayvaan said evenly. "We were blocked without reason, and I defended myself when the guard overstepped. Also, you might want to reconsider your choice of words. ¡®Causing a commotion¡¯ doesn¡¯t apply here."


    The captain¡¯s lips curled into a faint smirk, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. "Blocked without reason? This is the Astartes Monastery. Official business here is handled by ¡®Astartes monks.¡¯ Civilians¡ªno matter who they claim to be¡ªdon¡¯t just waltz in uninvited. So tell me, what makes you think you belong here?"

 Chapter 29 - Jacob

    In this era, the Space Marines were no longer just warriors¡ªthey had become something much more. Since the second founding of the army, every Space Marine had embraced the role of a religious knight, akin to the "Paladins" of the Middle Ages. Clad in heavy power armor, these warriors not only mastered the art of battle and killing but also devoted themselves to the teachings of the state religion. Their faith in the Emperor was drilled into them during training and combat alike. Across the Empire, they were known not only as warriors but also as "Brother Astartes."


    The captain raised an eyebrow and gestured at the man¡¯s towering stature, measuring him with a sweeping motion of his hand. ¡°Clearly. Alright, state your name. I¡¯ll need to report you to your commanding officer or the local enforcer. If you don¡¯t have a good explanation for being here, you¡¯ll face the consequences.¡±


    ¡°I am Kayvaan Shrike.¡±


    The captain froze. His eyes widened as he processed the words, and his expression quickly shifted from disbelief to realization. ¡°You¡­ You¡¯re Kayvaan Shrike?¡± He recovered swiftly, bowing slightly. ¡°Forgive me, sir. I didn¡¯t recognize you at first. My deepest apologies for my earlier tone. We received word of your potential arrival a few days ago, but I never imagined you¡¯d come so soon. Please, come in.¡±


    Indeed, a document about Kayvaan had arrived at the local headquarters three days prior. Marked with a red alert, it specified that Kayvaan was not to undergo a second body modification procedure. At the time, no one understood the note¡¯s significance. Why would anyone need a second modification? Wasn¡¯t the procedure completed all at once? But seeing Kayvaan in person had begun to clarify the mystery. Still, the captain knew better than to ask questions that weren¡¯t his to ask.


    Inside the monastery, the air was heavy with reverence. The main hall was an expansive auditorium with one wall covered in intricately painted glass. Sunlight poured through, casting vibrant hues across the room. At the far end stood a massive organ, its pipes gleaming in the light. An elderly man in a black robe sat at the organ, his fingers dancing over the keys, filling the hall with sacred music.


    The melody was ancient¡ªa military hymn said to date back to a mythical era. Legends told of soldiers singing it in the quiet moments between battles, drawing strength and solace from its verses to honor the Emperor. ¡°Please wait here,¡± the captain said, gesturing toward a bench near the aisle. ¡°Sir Jacob Keyes will meet with you shortly to explain the procedures and address any concerns about establishing your Space Marine chapter.¡± With that, he left.


    Kayvaan and Darius sat on one of the long wooden benches. The hymn played on for another five minutes before it came to a close. The robed man stood, and approached them. His gaze lingered on Kayvaan, a look of quiet curiosity in his eyes. ¡°I am Jacob Keyes,¡± he introduced himself, ¡°And you must be Sir Kayvaan.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am Kayvaan Shrike.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s eyes softened, and he sighed. ¡°So it¡¯s true. Even after a thousand years, even with the curse that plagues your body, the crow¡¯s genes in you remain unchanged. Pale skin, black hair¡ªyou are every bit the shadowed guardian the legends spoke of.¡± He hesitated, then asked, ¡°How should I address you? You appear young, yet you carry the weight of many lifetimes. Should I call you ¡®my child,¡¯ as I do the others? Or would ¡®elder¡¯ suit you better?¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°No need for formalities,¡± Kayvaan said evenly. ¡°Just call me Kayvaan. The world I once knew is gone, and past glories mean little now. I am here for my reward: to establish a Space Marine chapter.¡±


    Jacob nodded, his expression solemn. ¡°Of course. We must follow protocol, even for someone like you. May I see the necessary documents?¡±


    ¡°I carry the Emperor¡¯s commission,¡± Kayvaan said, reaching into his cloak.


    Jacob raised a hand. ¡°Not here. Let¡¯s move to a more private setting. Follow me.¡± He led them to a hidden door at the back of the auditorium. Behind it lay a peaceful porch overlooking a small courtyard. To the right, floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in natural light. To the left, a neatly trimmed lawn stretched out, dotted with round wooden tables and sturdy chairs.


    ¡°Please, have a seat. Would you like tea or coffee?¡± Jacob asked, gesturing to the chairs.


    ¡°Tea, thank you,¡± Kayvaan replied.


    ¡°Coffee for me,¡± Darius added.


    Jacob nodded and disappeared briefly, returning with a silver tray. On it sat a polished teapot, a small coffee pot, and two round cups. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and coffee wafted through the courtyard as he poured.


    "Please forgive my little hobby," Jacob said with a warm smile. "When I was young, I didn¡¯t care about such things. But at this age, I find myself finding joy in small things, like this peaceful environment."


    Kayvaan inhaled the aroma of the tea and took a careful sip. "This is excellent tea. But let¡¯s not dance around the reason I¡¯m here."


    Jacob¡¯s eyes twinkled with amusement. "Straight to the point, then. Establishing a brand-new Chapter."


    "I don¡¯t have the patience to waste time,"Kayvaan said with a grin.


    Jacob nodded. "Fair enough. A loyal soldier of the empire wouldn¡¯t have time to waste on idle chatter. But before we delve into the details, let me mention something about this tea you seem to enjoy so much. The coffee beans and black tea both come from Kantarra, an agricultural world renowned for its tea gene pool. The finest in the galaxy, I assure you."


    Jacob¡¯s tone grew more serious as he shifted to the topic at hand. "Now, about your mission. Forming a new chapter isn¡¯t a simple task. The Raven Guard, for instance, suffered devastating losses during the Great Rebellion. Their legion¡¯s Gene seeed was almost obliterated. Rebuilding something like that is no small feat. When the empire faces such a crisis, they assign think tank curators to manage the remnants of the gene pool. These curators will swear loyalty to you, but understand this: while they¡¯ll oversee the process, the actual work of restoring the gene is yours alone. Neither the empire nor headquarters can offer much help."


    Kayvaan nodded solemnly. "I understand. I¡¯ll find a way to handle it."


    Jacob continued, his tone measured. "The gene-seed, as you might already know, serves as the foundation for crafting Astartes. Think of it as a sacred template, imbued with the genetic legacy of the Emperor¡¯s Primarchs¡ªa relic of immeasurable value and potential. Unlike the chaotic randomness of human birth, the gene-seed ensures that those chosen to bear it are elevated far beyond ordinary mortals. It instills them with strength, resilience, and the traits necessary to embody the Emperor''s will. For a new Chapter, safeguarding and cultivating this genetic legacy will be your greatest responsibility¡ªand your biggest challenges."


    Kayvaan absorbed the information silently, but Jacob wasn¡¯t finished. "That¡¯s not the only challenge you¡¯ll face, either."


    "Oh?" Kayvaan prompted.

 Chapter 30 - Trial of Combat

    Jacob leaned forward, his expression grim. "The Chapter is no ordinary fighting group. Each chapter has its own traditions, and we¡¯re no exception. One of ours¡ªcall it a tradition, or a bad habit¡ªis that we don¡¯t accept weakness. Our corps prides itself on being the strongest, a band of knights unmatched across the stars. Every incoming master must prove their strength through combat. It¡¯s a rite of passage."


    Kayvaan''s expression remained calm. "What kind of combat are we talking about?"


    "A simple hand-to-hand battle," Jacob explained. "No power armor, only cold weapons. There are no rules¡ªonly strength and survival. As the incoming master, you¡¯ll face three Space Marines at once."


    Jacob stared intently at Kayvaan''s face, studying every detail. He wanted to catch a glimpse of something¡ªmaybe anger sparked by his own words. It would only make sense for Kayvaan to be furious. After all, here was a warrior who had suffered so deeply and had finally fallen on a grand, legendary battlefield where he deserved to die with honor. Instead, the empire chose to let him live. When he woke after sleeping for nine thousand years, everything had changed. The empire no longer fully trusted him. Everyone he once knew had long since passed into memory, leaving him with nothing familiar. What would he feel now, looking at a world so alien to him?


    Of course, he would return to the only place he truly knew¡ªthe battlefield. Even after all these ages, war remained war. The smoke, the killing, and the endless struggle hadn¡¯t evolved in nine millennia. Amid all the unfamiliar faces and towering buildings of this new era, only the battlefield stayed true to what he remembered. If Kayvaan were truly himself, he should have been seething, eager to reclaim some measure of glory. He should have yearned to lead an army back into the vast star-sea and plunge straight into those hellish warzones again, ruthlessly cutting down the empire¡¯s enemies. That was the natural order, the cycle he once lived by.


    But he couldn¡¯t. Jacob knew that the words he had just spoken had struck hard, reminding Kayvaan of what he could no longer do. Yet the young-looking soldier showed no trace of the anger Jacob expected. There were no tears, no outbursts, no hysterics. Kayvaan didn¡¯t break down, didn¡¯t plead, and didn¡¯t even wear a forced smile. None of the reactions Jacob had anticipated came to pass.


    Instead, Kayvaan was simply stunned for a moment. Then he chuckled quietly.


    They stood together in a small courtyard scented by the cozy blend of black tea and coffee. Warm sunlight fell gently on them, but Jacob suddenly felt an odd chill creeping up his spine, as if a subtle coldness rose from the depths of his heart. He found himself wondering if it was fear or some ominous sense of danger. He recalled the stories of ¡°the crow¡¯s smile,¡± a legendary expression rumored to appear on the faces of those carrying crow genes. Could it be that he had made a horrible misjudgment about this young man?This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Before Jacob could sort through his thoughts, Kayvaan spoke up: ¡°It¡¯s actually a great tradition. I appreciate the idea behind it. It¡¯s about pride¡ªour pride as Space Marines. Such a force shouldn¡¯t be led by someone weak. Whoever leads must naturally prove their courage and strength.¡±


    This threw Jacob off. There was no protest or strong objection. Instead, Kayvaan expressed genuine approval of the tradition. There was no trace of lunacy in his tone. Jacob found himself wondering if Kayvaan''s long sleep had unhinged his mind. Didn¡¯t he understand the simple meaning behind these words?


    Jacob tried to steer the conversation: ¡°Well, it is indeed a proud tradition, but if you can¡¯t defeat three Space Marines, then you can¡¯t become the leader of a Marine Corps,¡± he explained carefully. ¡°Even if you have the Emperor¡¯s personal endorsement, the rule still stands.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Kayvaan replied with a nod, his eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°No warrior would accept a leader who can¡¯t even defeat three of his own. If a leader can¡¯t overcome them, he isn¡¯t qualified to lead, and certainly not fit to protect his subordinates. I can¡¯t wait to get started. So, when can we begin?¡±


    ¡°Begin what?¡± Jacob blinked, taken aback. Then it hit him, and he nearly choked on his own words. ¡°Wait, you actually want to take part in this challenge?¡± He had assumed Kayvaan would try to avoid it, to find some loophole or excuse.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± Kayvaan asked, tilting his head. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m going to lose?¡±


    What kind of question was that? Of course Jacob thought he would lose. In fact, he was certain of it. Even one Neophyte Space Marine could likely turn Kayvaan''s lean frame into a twisted wreck without breaking a sweat. They weren¡¯t even playing on the same field. How could Kayvaan possibly hope to win against three of them, all battle-hardened and heavily trained?


    Still, he couldn¡¯t just say that outright. It would be rude and counterproductive. Trying to be tactful, Jacob said, ¡°I just think your chances aren¡¯t great. Consider the differences in strength, physique, height, speed, and overall power. You¡¯re clearly at a disadvantage¡­¡±


    Kayvaan''s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Are we Space Marines only brave when facing someone weaker? Do you doubt my courage?¡± His tone carried a quiet edge, as if Jacob¡¯s words were dangerously close to an insult.


    Jacob quickly produced a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He needed to calm things down. ¡°Absolutely not,¡± he said earnestly. ¡°I¡¯m only worried about your safety. You realize that even if we limit ourselves to cold weapons, accidents can still happen. Serious injuries or even death aren¡¯t just possibilities; they¡¯re common. And if that happens, no one will be held responsible afterward. This is life and dead battle.¡±


    He genuinely feared for Kayvaan''s life. Once both sides entered the arena, it became just like stepping onto a true battlefield. Rules faded. Nothing mattered except defeating the enemy standing in front of you. If one of the Astartes slew the prospective Chapter Master, no punishment would follow. On the contrary, such an act might earn praise and commendation for their strength and valor, for this trial was not about rank or loyalty. It was a test of dominance, where leadership was proven through sheer, undeniable strength.

 Chapter 31 - Kayvaan Reaction

    The current age was a shadow of the legendary era Kayvaan remembered. In those ancient times, the Adeptus Astartes were the undisputed masters of war, dominating every battlefield, whether in offense or defense. In that grim and glorious epoch, whether against the traitorous Horus Heresy or loyalist insurrections, the Space Marines were the Emperor¡¯s unyielding champions. Towering in stature, their fearless charges shattered enemy lines and inspired awe in allies and foes alike. Those who bore witness to those hallowed campaigns knew one truth¡ªSpace Marines were the very heart and soul of war.


    But now, the Imperium¡¯s military structure had evolved. It comprised three vast branches, the mightiest of which was the Astra Militarum, commanded by the Departmento Munitorum under the High Lords of Terra. Unlike the transhuman Astartes, these were ordinary humans¡ªcommon soldiers without the gene-forged enhancements or sacred power armor of the Adeptus Astartes. Their strength lay in their sheer numbers, waging war across countless worlds with unending waves of infantry, armored divisions, and planetary bombardments. Through relentless attrition and overwhelming force, they ground down the enemy. In terms of raw military power and presence, the Astra Militarum now stood as the Imperium¡¯s dominant military force.


    Another significant military force within the empire was the Adepta Sororitas, the militant arm of the Ecclesiarchy¡ªa group of zealously devout women armed to the teeth with advanced weaponry and fanatical conviction. Aside from the faithful masses who revered them, nearly everyone else in the empire kept a wary distance from this ferocious sisterhood. Meanwhile, the once renowned Space Marine Corps had long since lost its former splendor, and the relationships among the empire¡¯s three main military branches grew increasingly tangled. Budget disputes and struggles over control of resource-rich galaxies often led to small-scale conflicts. Though covert skirmishes flared constantly, the three groups maintained a brittle veneer of harmony in public. Still, when compared to the other two main forces, the Space Marine Corps could not claim any particular advantage in overall might.


    For the Space Marine, raw power was everything¡ªthe core measure of their worth. That¡¯s why creating any new regiment held immense strategic value, signifying a tangible boost to their collective power. However, the process of forming a new regiment was no simple matter. It required passing stringent reviews from multiple departments, and the Space Marine Corps couldn¡¯t just set it up at will. Yet Kayvaan, holding direct mandate from the Emperor himself, would face fewer hurdles. With that backing, he could potentially establish a new chapter and place it under his own control.


    In the beginning, events played out exactly as Jacob had planned. He carefully set the stage, using the environment and a few friendly words to lower Kayvaan''s guard. Once Kayvaan relaxed, Jacob revealed the harsh truth of the situation. According to Jacob¡¯s calculations, Kayvaan would then panic or become discouraged. That moment of vulnerability would give Jacob the leverage to pressure Kayvaan into giving up actual command of this newly forming ¡°Chapter Corps.¡± The precious imperial commission wouldn¡¯t go to waste; it would simply be transferred from Kayvaan''s hands to those Jacob preferred. While Kayvaan would remain the figurehead leader of this new regiment, the real authority would be surrendered willingly¡ªor so Jacob thought.


    Yet Kayvaan reacted in an unexpected way. He didn¡¯t seem to care about the risk to his life at all. In Jacob¡¯s view, this was pure madness rather than courage worthy of any admiration. ¡°Will you not pursue responsibility afterwards?¡± Kayvaan asked calmly. ¡°In other words, even if I were to kill those soldiers, would I face no consequences?¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Jacob rolled his eyes. He found it hard to imagine that this slender, unassuming young man could even scratch a single Space Marine warrior. Still, he maintained a polite tone. ¡°In theory, that¡¯s correct. But historically, no new commander has ever actually killed those who issued the challenge. After all, it¡¯s more of a ceremonial test. The purpose is just to make the soldiers recognize their own limits, giving them a benchmark to strive toward, not to spill blood.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Kayvaan replied, unfazed. ¡°I¡¯ll be mindful of what I do. Shall we begin now?¡±


    ¡°Now?¡± Jacob repeated, caught off guard.


    ¡°Yes, the sooner the better,¡± Kayvaan insisted. ¡°I¡¯m about to command a brand-new Chapter Corps. There¡¯s a lot I need to take care of, and I can¡¯t afford to waste time on long-winded formalities.¡±


    Jacob was stunned. He had laid out all the facts and tried to dissuade this young man from risking his life, but Kayvaan still insisted on completing the procedure as quickly as possible. Jacob had no grounds or authority to refuse. Trying to maintain his composure, Jacob clapped his hands, summoning the servants. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°You heard him. Prepare the arena. Master Kayvaan here will face three  Space Marine warriors immediately.¡±


    One of the servants leaned in to whisper a few words to Jacob, causing him to frown momentarily. He soon relaxed, though, and raised his voice, ¡°It¡¯s fine. Hurry up and make the arrangements. I¡¯ll take Mr. Kayvaan to the arena right now. Don¡¯t keep us waiting.¡±


    The servant bowed and left. Jacob then turned back to Kayvaan. ¡°Before we proceed, you¡¯ll need to sign a document acknowledging the risks. If something happens out there, no one bears any responsibility.¡±


    Jacob also reminded Kayvaan to change into more suitable combat attire. But Kayvaan waved this off. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± Without another glance at his own clothing, he strode straight into the arena.


    The so-called arena was actually a massive, cleared-out church, so enormous it seemed designed for giants. Even with thousands of spectators, the place wouldn¡¯t feel cramped. High above them, a golden cross gleamed, symbolizing the faith in the God-Emperor that held this empire together.


    Inside, three muscular soldiers stood waiting. Hands clasped behind their backs, legs firmly planted, they exuded an intimidating presence. They wore identical uniforms: long black military boots, blue trousers, and snug white vests stretched over their bulging physiques. Just by looking at them, you could sense the raw power radiating from their bodies.


    This was Kayvaan''s first time stepping into a real, life-or-death battle. He had imagined that in this kind of situation he would be shaking uncontrollably with fear, terrified down to his core. Now, he was indeed trembling, but not for the reason he first thought. His hands wouldn¡¯t stop shaking, yet Kayvaan knew perfectly well that it wasn¡¯t fear coursing through them¡ªit was excitement.


    He could feel his own breath turning hot, and his heart began to pound faster and louder. Kayvaan felt the blood in his veins heating up, as if it were starting to boil. Even though his body wasn¡¯t as strong as it was nine thousand years ago, he could still feel that ancient longing for battle stirring inside him. His soul, too, yearned for a fight. Despite all of Jacob¡¯s mistakes, he had gotten one point right: in this strange new world, fighting was the only thing Kayvaan truly recognized. No matter what else happened, struggle and violence were what defined him now, what he understood and excelled at above all else.


    When the two halves of Kayvaan''s soul¡ªone from the distant past and one from the present¡ªmet within him, their fate seemed sealed. No matter which side prevailed, in the end, Kayvaan would be someone who fought and killed. It was the only familiar path left to him, the only real skill he could rely on.


    ¡°Under the gaze of the God-Emperor, we begin this fair contest,¡± Jacob¡¯s voice sounded out, crackling slightly as it emerged from a mechanical device nearby. ¡°No weapons are allowed, for this fight is one of strength, skill, and faith. Let both sides prove their worth with honor and valor, as the Emperor observes all.¡± After a brief, solemn silence, he added, ¡°So be it. The trial begins now. May the Emperor¡¯s light guide you!¡±

 Chapter 32 - Maneus Calgar

    The moment Jacob finished speaking, one of the three Space Marines charged straight toward Kayvaan with an expression twisted by rage. Kayvaan realized this was the same man named McCain who had been guarding the door earlier. Back when Kayvaan wanted to get inside, McCain was the one assigned to block him. By all rights, it should have been easy for McCain to stop a normal person, but Kayvaan had knocked him flat instead. That brief encounter had deeply humiliated the Space Marine. He had been stewing in that embarrassment ever since, feeling that as a warrior of the Emperor¡¯s, he had lost face by failing to subdue an ordinary young man. Such a disgrace would follow him for life, with his fellow soldiers likely mocking him at every opportunity. He¡¯d never expected a chance for revenge to come so soon, but here it was. Now, all McCain could think about was beating Kayvaan into the ground, wiping away that shame and restoring his lost pride. He couldn¡¯t wait to repay this humiliation with pain.


    He jumped forward and lashed out with a ferocious kick. The force behind that blow was easily enough to shatter a steel plate. If it connected solidly, it could kill a normal man on the spot.


    Yet McCain¡¯s attack was far too obvious in Kayvaan''s eyes. Kayvaan shifted his body sideways, smoothly avoiding the kick. As McCain¡¯s leg swept past, Kayvaan extended his hand, fingers bent like claws, reaching toward the inside of McCain¡¯s thigh. He moved with terrifying speed. With just one sharp movement, three of Kayvaan''s fingers pierced into the Marine¡¯s flesh, slipping in between muscle fibers and near the veins. Gripping firmly, Kayvaan jerked his arm backward, using McCain¡¯s own forward momentum against him, and tore away a chunk of raw muscle. The sound of ripping flesh, like thick leather being violently pulled apart, echoed nauseatingly through the arena.


    ¡°ARRGH!!!¡± McCain¡¯s pained grunt emerged a heartbeat later, the shock just registering in his mind. But the encounter wasn¡¯t over yet. Both men¡¯s bodies seemed to coil in unison, their legs bending preparing for another burst of movement. They halted almost simultaneously, then rebounded like tightened springs released from tension.


    But McCain was no ordinary human. He was a Space Marine, trained and conditioned to endure punishing pain that would break lesser motal. So even though Kayvaan''s brutal attack had just ripped into his thigh, exposing torn muscle and spilling blood, McCain did not relent. He refused to surrender, and if anything, the pain only fueled his anger. His scream was still echoing when his body moved into a counterattack, swinging his powerful arm at Kayvaan.


    Kayvaan lowered his own body, ducking swiftly beneath the Marine¡¯s arm. He moved forward again, getting close enough to reach the open wound he had just created. This time, Kayvaan''s fingers sought something vital. His fingertips found what felt like a soft, delicate tube within the ragged flesh¡ªa blood vessel. He yanked with force.


    McCain screamed in agony and dropped to the ground. The intense exercise leading up to this moment had his twin hearts pounding like high-pressure pumps, each beat driving fresh blood through his body. But now, with a gaping tear in his thigh, the main blood circulation channel was compromised. Blood gushed out of the ruptured artery like a high-powered water gun, spraying bright red streaks across the ground in an instant.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Even with the remarkable regenerative capabilities of a Space Marine, no one could endure such catastrophic blood loss unchecked. McCain, realizing the severity of his injury, frantically clutched at his thigh.


    In less than a minute, Kayvaan had incapacitated McCain with ease. The other two Marines, momentarily frozen in shock, struggled to process what had just happened. McCain was more experienced than them but now he was down, blood pooling around him. How could this so-called ordinary man dare to rush them, let alone succeed?


    Before they could fully comprehend the situation, Kayvaan was already closing the distance with his next target.


    One of the Marines reacted instinctively. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and launched a powerful punch. But Kayvaan, as if anticipating the move, slipped past the attack with ease, sliding into the Marine¡¯s guard. Both of Kayvaan¡¯s palms struck simultaneously¡ªone pressing against the left side of the Marine¡¯s chest, near his heart, and the other on his right side.


    Kayvaan stepped forward, planting his foot firmly on the ground as he drove his palms upward with explosive force. The impact reverberated through the Marine¡¯s body like a shockwave, bypassing the natural skin armor and striking deep.


    There was a muffled thud, and the Marine¡¯s massive frame lifted slightly off the ground before crashing back down. His face was frozen in disbelief. How could someone half his size and weight send him flying? As his body hit the dirt, he felt an eerie lightness, as though floating. Then, darkness took over. He collapsed.


    The third Marine, wide-eyed, stared at the scene in front of him, his mind racing. Two Space Marines¡ªelite warriors of the galaxy¡ªdefeated in mere moments by a single man. He wasn¡¯t afraid, but the sheer absurdity of the situation left him shaken. "What kind of witchcraft is this?!" he bellowed, trying to mask his unease.


    Blood dripped steadily from Kayvaan fingers, painting his hands in crimson. His dark eyes gleamed coldly as he spoke, ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, Kayvaan charged. The last Marine, roared defiantly and swung both fists at Kayvaan with all his might. But Kayvaan ducked effortlessly, weaving through the blows. Slipping between the Marine¡¯s legs, Kayvaan struck a precise blow to his tailbone with a backhanded slap. He spun around swiftly, inhaled deeply, and launched a flurry of attacks at the Marine¡¯s unprotected back.


    Fists, palms, fingers¡ªevery strike landed accurately, each one designed to bypass the Marine¡¯s armor and exploit his weaknesses. The assault lasted only three seconds, but the damage was devastating. As abruptly as it had begun, Kayvaan¡¯s onslaught stopped. He exhaled slowly, stepping back to assess his work.


    The final Marine remained standing for a moment, his massive frame swaying slightly. Then, like a felled tree, he collapsed, his body clashed witha  a loud bam against the ground.


    In another room, an older man watched the entire spectacle unfold on a screen. His voice, calm yet commanding, broke the silence. ¡°One minute and three seconds. That¡¯s all it took for him to take down three of my veteran Marines. Jacob, it seems you¡¯ve made another unnecessary decision.¡±


    Jacob, standing nearby, visibly trembled. He had come here expecting to witness Kayvaan¡¯s defeat, but instead, he was facing an even greater nightmare¡ªMarneus Calgar, the commander-in-chief of the Ultramarines Legion. ¡°S-Sir, I thought you were leading a patrol¡­¡± Jacob stammered, his voice barely steady.


    Marneus¡¯s expression remained unreadable, his tone unwavering. ¡°That was the plan. However, the Imperial Palace recalled me. Someone else is leading the patrol in my place.¡±


    Jacob swallowed hard. ¡°Then¡­ what brings you back here, sir?¡±

 Chapter 33 - We Are here to Serve

    ¡°That¡¯s none of your concern,¡± Marneus replied curtly. His focus than returned back to the arena, ¡°Who is he?¡±


    "Standing in the arena is the new Chapter Master¡ªa hero from the Great Crusade, preserved for centuries in stasis. Though his curse makes him appear as an ordinary man, his skills and instincts remain those of a warrior forged in the Emperor''s service."


    "Just like Lord Roboute?"


    Roboute Guilliman, the Avenging Son, was the Primarch of the Ultramarines and one of the Emperor¡¯s twenty gene-forged sons. During the Horus Heresy, he remained steadfastly loyal to the Emperor, leading his legion to victory against the traitor forces. After the war, Guilliman undertook the monumental task of restoring the shattered Imperium, bringing order to the chaos that threatened its collapse. He was the architect of the Codex Astartes, a sacred tome that redefined the structure and doctrine of the Adeptus Astartes, and oversaw the Second Founding, dividing the vast legions into smaller, independent Chapters to safeguard against future rebellion.


    But his story was not without tragedy. During a battle against the traitorous Emperor''s Children, Roboute Guilliman was gravely wounded by Fulgrim, his brother-Primarch, who used a blade tainted with dark, unnatural power. The wound to his throat was severe, and the poison from the blade was too deadly for even the Imperium''s best healers to treat. His body now rests in stasis, preserved within a life-suspending machine in Macragge¡¯s Temple of Correction.


    "Although Mr. Kayvaan isn¡¯t on the same level as Lord Roboute, I must admit he is a hero of the Empire," Jacob explained. "He survived the legendary era and carries a reward personally granted by the Emperor himself¡ªan appointment to establish a new Space Marine chapter. But today, for someone like him, such a responsibility feels too heavy. That¡¯s why I see this as an opportunity."


    "So, your plan was to scare him into giving up command, and then convince him to hand the reins over to you?" Marneus smirked. "That¡¯s a foolish strategy. Astartes don¡¯t fear humiliation. We don¡¯t even understand fear."


    "I didn¡¯t mean to humiliate him¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t bother denying it," Marneus interrupted, his tone icy. "Tradition dictates that three neophytes challenge a captain to prove their worth. But you sent in three veterans against an unaugmented human. That wasn¡¯t a trial, Jacob¡ªit was an execution."


    "It wasn¡¯t meant to go that far!" Jacob stammered. "Please, Lord Marneus, believe me! I never wanted to kill him. I just thought... if we scared him, he¡¯d realize he isn¡¯t fit to lead a chapter. Without the genetic modifications, without the surgeries, he can¡¯t truly command a Space Marine chapter. This is an opportunity to strengthen our forces. Surely you understand the precarious position the Space Marines are in right now."


    "But instead, it¡¯s your veterans who were humbled," Marneus said, his gaze shifting to the arena as a fourth Space Marine entered, his steps heavy with fury. "And now you¡¯ve disgraced yourself."


    The newcomer¡¯s voice thundered across the arena, laden with anger. "What treachery is this? What heretical trickery did you use?"


    Kayvaan blinked in surprise before recognizing the man approaching him. It was the same Space Marine he had confronted at the gate earlier. "You¡¯re...?" Kayvaan gestured toward the pale-faced Marine lying on the ground nearby. McCain was clutching his own aorta, trying to stem the alarming flow of blood. "You¡¯re Captain Adams, right?"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "That¡¯s right," the Marine growled. "The three men you just defeated¡ªthose are my soldiers. Veterans. Tested by war. And yet you, a mere human, brought them down. What sorcery is this?"


    "No sorcery," Kayvaan said calmly, shrugging. "If you watched the fight closely, you¡¯d see my victory was fair."


    "Fair?" Adams¡¯s voice rose in disbelief. "I watched every second. When Jack accused you of using witchcraft, you didn¡¯t even deny it. And how in the Emperor¡¯s name could you hurt a Space Marine with your bare hands?"


    "McCain¡¯s leg was injured," Kayvaan explained casually. "He had surgery recently, and probably to treat Residual Ossification Syndrome(a rare condition in veteran Space Marines where their bones become too hardened over time due to their enhanced physiology. This can cause stiffness in joints, reduced flexibility, or minor pain during rapid movements, making them slightly less agile in combat). While he¡¯s mostly recovered, there¡¯s still a subtle imbalance in his movement. It¡¯s not hard to spot if you know what to look for. His inner thigh has a slightly different texture, which suggests recent scarring. By targeting that area, I could tear his muscle and expose his aorta. From there, the rest was easy."


    Kayvaan glanced at the second Marine. "The next one fell because of his two hearts. I noticed a hesitation in his movements¡ªa sign of lingering trauma from a previous battle. Likely scarring or damage to his Haemastamen from an old wound. And the last one? He wasn¡¯t ready for the fight. A veteran, yes, but recovering from spinal surgery after a serious injury. A scar along his lower back gave it away. His Ossmodula protects him, but that area hasn¡¯t fully healed. A precise strike disrupted the nerves there, paralyzing him momentarily. It¡¯s not magic¡ªjust observation and understanding of Astartes physiology."


    "That makes sense," Adams admitted, still processing everything, while half of him still in disbelief.


    Kayvaan shrugged, his tone casual. "Then why are you still standing there? The fight is over. Shouldn¡¯t you be calling the Apothecaries? A momentary cardiac disruption can be stabilized, a ruptured artery needs proper sealing, and even a spinal shock will recover with time. These are manageable issues."


    Adams snapped back to reality. "Of course!" He quickly signaled the Apothecaries, who hurried into the arena moments later, moving chaotically as they administered first aid.


    From the sidelines, Marneus watched the scene unfold with a grim expression. "His observation, judgment, and combat skills are unbelievable," Marneus muttered, glancing at Jacob with a mix of pity and disdain. "And you thought you could question his worth? Really, Jacob? As an advisor to the Chapter, your actions make me doubt your judgment."


    Jacob stammered, "I¡ªI was only thinking about what¡¯s best for the Ultramarines. The current situation is dire. We must strengthen our position, and ¡ª"


    "Enough," Marneus interrupted, sighing deeply. "I know your concerns. The Imperium is besieged on all fronts, and we face constant challenges to our dominance. But never forget who we are: the Emperor¡¯s chosen, the sword and shield of Humanity. The Adepta Sororitas may burn with zealotry, and the Astra Militarum may bring overwhelming numbers to bear, but we are the scalpel that cuts through the heart of the enemy. Redundancy? No. Our purpose is clear, as it has always been. Do not let fear cloud your loyalty."


    Jacob hesitated, his voice unsteady. "I¡ªI just can¡¯t shake this fear. If the Adepta Sororitas and the Astra Militarum outshine us, what is our purpose? Where do we fit in?"


    Marneus placed a heavy hand on Jacob¡¯s shoulder. "Do you know what truly makes us strong? It¡¯s not just our power¡ªit¡¯s understanding our purpose. The records in the Librarium hold the history of every battle since our founding. If you¡¯ve studied them, you¡¯d know our greatest challenge was not being too weak, but too strong. At our peak, the Legions were a force even the Imperium feared. That¡¯s why Guilliman himself decreed our numbers must be limited. We are not here to rule; we are here to serve."

 Chapter 34 - Mountain of Document

    "There¡¯s a book in the library, The Book of Astartes. It records how our Ultramarines Chapter once provided the gene-seed for nearly 60% of all Space Marine Chapters. We were already unmatched. But raw strength alone is meaningless. The flames may destroy more effectively, and the sledgehammer may strike harder, but only the sword remains in the knight¡¯s hand. Jacob, we are the Emperor¡¯s sword. Don¡¯t forget that."


    Jacob nodded slowly, the fear in his heart easing. "I understand."


    "Good. Then go and congratulate Kayvaan. He¡¯s our new chapter master, and he¡¯ll need your support. The Eastern Fringe is critical to the Imperium¡¯s future, and we need strong leaders there." Marneus turned to leave but stopped at the doorway. "Oh, and tell Adams and his team to take care the next penal training cadre. Let them reflect on their failures while preparing our neophytes for the battles ahead. Discipline is forged through duty, not leniency."


    He than glanced back at the thin figure in the arena. A strange feeling stirred in his chest, as though this man would bring monumental change to the Imperium. Whether it would be for better or worse, none could yet say.


    ___________


    The next morning, Jacob found a sealed parchment bearing the Chapter Master''s sigil on his desk. It was an official reassignment order issued by Marneus Calgar himself. He read it once, twice, and finally a third time, the weight of the words sinking in. "The new chapter?" Jacob whispered. "I¡¯m¡­ being reassigned to serve as a tactical advisor to the new  Chapter?"


    In one month, Jacob would leave the Ultramarines and begin his new role. For now, though, he remained the deputy strategist for the Ultramarines ¡°Do your best to help them? Ugh, easier said than done,¡± he muttered to himself.


    Jacob understood Marneus¡¯s reasoning perfectly. In fact, he even felt a sense of gratitude toward him. His previous actions had been reckless, inadvertently offending a newly established Chapter faction. While such a blunder might seem trivial to the Ultramarines, who feared no force in the universe, it was still a mistake. And since it was his mistake, Jacob knew he had to make amends. Yet, on an emotional level, letting go of his role with the Ultramarines was difficult. He had served them for two centuries¡ªan almost inconceivable span of time for ordinary humans, equating to nearly two lifetimes.


    Jacob sighed, but being a practical man, he quickly pushed his emotions aside. With just a cup of tea, he cleared his mind and set off to find Kayvaan.


    Kayvaan, meanwhile, was buried under an avalanche of documents and forms from various imperial departments. The newly formed chapter was little more than a name in the Administratum¡¯s records, and Kayvaan could only imagine what it might become years down the line.


    He was completely out of his depth. His time on Terra and the combat lessons from his mentor had done nothing to prepare him for the maddening bureaucracy of the Imperium. Even establishing a minor guild on Terra required navigating at least seventeen different departments¡ªhealth, taxation, local enforcers, trade guilds, and even the Ecclesiarchy. Starting a Space Marine Chapter? That was bureaucracy on an entirely different scale.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    It was in this dire situation that Jacob arrived, like an angel descending from the heavens. "Emperor¡¯s grace, a whole room packed with documents! This sight never gets old," Jacob said with a wry smile as he stepped inside. He glanced at Kayvaan, his tone playful. "Need some help, Chapter Master?"


    Kayvaan looked up, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. Jacob¡¯s words felt like a lifeline. He nodded quickly, grateful beyond words.


    Jacob chuckled, picking up a few forms and skimming them before setting them aside. "Taking on three Space Marine veterans as an unaugmented human? Easy. But a pile of Administratum paperwork? Now that¡¯s your true enemy."


    "I¡¯d rather face a Chaos Warmaster in open combat than deal with this pile of Administratum drivel," Kayvaan groaned. "It¡¯ll take me an lifetime to get through all of this."


    Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. "An lifetime? You¡¯re an Astartes¡ªyou¡¯ve got all the time in the galaxy."


    Kayvaan sighed, his voice grim. "Exactly. That¡¯s what makes it so horrifying."


    Jacob couldn¡¯t help but laugh again. He understood Kayvaan¡¯s frustration. Most Astartes felt the same way. Space Marines were forged for war¡ªhumanity¡¯s ultimate defenders, not glorified clerks. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s not as bad as it seems,¡± Jacob said, rolling up his sleeves. ¡°Only about a tenth of this is actually important, and less than one percent needs your personal attention.¡± He began sorting through the piles with practiced efficiency. ¡°This is just a game the Administratum plays with anyone who doesn¡¯t know the ropes or fails to show them proper respect. It¡¯s their way of keeping you¡­ overwhelmed.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s working,¡± Kayvaan muttered.


    ¡°Do you hate these bureaucrats?¡± Jacob asked, glancing at him.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Kayvaan said without hesitation. ¡°They¡¯ve got a little power, and they act like they rule the galaxy. They don¡¯t respect the responsibility they¡¯ve been given. Worse, they don¡¯t produce anything. They don¡¯t mine ore, forge weapons, grow crops, or sew uniforms. They don¡¯t fight the enemies of the Imperium. All they do is push papers and shuffle resources, yet they walk around like they¡¯re the backbone of the Imperium.¡±


    Jacob paused, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Shuffle resources?


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kayvaan replied, his tone sharp. ¡°They don''t create value; they just shuffle resources around,¡± he said with a dismissive wave. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s just me being dramatic. Don¡¯t take it too seriously. I just can¡¯t stand their style¡ªtheir smug expressions, their rigid procedures. None of it sits well with me.¡±


    Jacob turned to face him, his eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Master Kayvaan, why are you telling me this? These aren¡¯t the kind of thoughts you should share openly.¡±


    Kayvaan shrugged. "We''re at home right now."


    Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Even so, we¡¯ve only known each other a short time. Aren¡¯t you worried I might tell someone?"


    Kayvaan chuckled lightly. "And if you did? What¡¯s the worst that could happen? I¡¯m just venting."


    Jacob shook his head. "Words like that can make enemies, ones you can¡¯t see. Individually, they might hold little power, but together, they can use their authority to make your life difficult. Look at what you faced today. And remember, you¡¯re not Marneus. Lord Calgar can say what he pleases. His words might ruffle feathers, but he¡¯s the Chapter Master of the Ultramarines. His position alone protects him. You, Master Kayvaan, don¡¯t have that kind of shield."

 Chapter 35 - Choosing Gene Seed

    The point landed, and Kayvaan''s expression turned more thoughtful. The Ultramarines were a towering force among the Imperium¡¯s Chapters, with dozens of successors scattered across the galaxy. Their influence was unmatched, thanks to their efforts in rebuilding after the Heresy. Nearly half the Imperium¡¯s Chapters could trace their lineage back to the Ultramarines. Marneus had earned the freedom to speak as he wished, his reputation and authority making him untouchable. Kayvaan, however, was just beginning. His Chapter were still a fledgling idea, more a promise than a reality.


    Jacob pressed on, his voice steady but firm. "Even in private, you need to be careful. The Inquisition¡¯s reach is vast. They claim to see everything, and while that might not be true everywhere, this is Terra¡ªthe heart of the Imperium and the most monitored place in the galaxy. The Inquisition¡¯s ears are always listening."


    Kayvaan''s confident demeanor faltered, and he glanced around uneasily. Jacob¡¯s words struck a nerve.The Inquisition¡¯s reach was suffocating. They controlled propaganda, public opinion, and Imperial bureaucracy with an iron grip, and when those tools failed, they turned to more direct and brutal methods. If they could, they¡¯d likely implant cogitators in every citizen¡¯s brain to monitor their thoughts.


    Kayvaan sighed deeply. "You¡¯re right. I didn¡¯t think it through."


    "It¡¯s not a big deal," Jacob reassured him. "You¡¯re just not used to it yet. Give it time."


    Kayvaan nodded slowly. "I¡¯ll be more careful with my words and actions from now on." He paused before looking at Jacob, his gaze curious. "But I have to ask, Jacob. We only met yesterday, and now you¡¯ve gone out of your way to help me. I¡¯m grateful, truly, but there must be another reason you¡¯re here, isn¡¯t there?"


    Jacob smiled faintly. "Not at all, Master Kayvaan. I came here today purely to assist you." He paused before continuing, "In a month, the official transfer order will be issued. When that happens, I¡¯ll be serving as your strategic advisor. I thought, why wait? The work to establish your Chapter begins now¡ªbuilding a regiment isn¡¯t something you can rush."


    Kayvaan¡¯s expression shifted, a mix of relief and excitement. "Ah, so that¡¯s what this is about! Excellent! In that case, I¡¯ll leave it all to you."


    "Not so fast, Master Kayvaan," Jacob said, grabbing his arm before he could turn away. "There are a few matters that require your direct attention before anything can be delegated. I¡¯ll prepare detailed reports for you, but some decisions can only be made by the Chapter Master."


    "Ah, I see," Kayvaan replied reluctantly. "What do I need to do?"


    Jacob pulled three neatly bound documents from the mountain of papers on the table and laid them before Kayvaan. "The High Lords of Terra have sanctioned the name of the chapter as Templar Knights, and the Administratum has finalized it. Now comes the first and most critical decision¡ªyou must choose the genetic lineage of your Chapter. Most Space Marine Chapters inherit the legacy of their founding Primarch without question, but your situation is different. The Templar Knights have three potential options."


    Kayvaan''s curiosity piqued. He leaned forward, his expression turning serious as he studied the documents. The Primarchs were the cornerstone of the Space Marine regiments. Each of the Emperor¡¯s twenty sons had served as the genetic foundation for one of the original legions. They were more than men¡ªthey were demigods, their abilities eclipsing anything humanity could hope to achieve. Marines infused with their genetic legacy were unparalleled warriors, akin to living gods.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    For the Adeptus Astartes, gene-seed was destiny. It dictated not only their strength and resilience but also their culture, traditions, and combat philosophy. The choice of a Primarch would define the Templar Knights for millennia to come, shaping their warriors and their place in the Imperium.


    Jacob lifted a blue-covered book, the bold "U" emblem on its front immediately catching Kayvaan''s attention. Within the "U," a skull symbol gleamed¡ªa badge that unmistakably represented the Ultramarines.


    "This represents the genetic legacy of Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines," Jacob began. "After the Horus Heresy, many Legions were shattered, but the Ultramarines emerged relatively intact. They played a critical role in the Second Founding, providing the genetic foundation for countless new Chapters. Their gene-seed is among the most stable and reliable in the Imperium."


    He set the book down and continued, "Choosing the Ultramarines¡¯ gene-seed means a stable start for the Templar Knights. The process will be quicker, allowing us to deploy combat-ready forces sooner. Ultramarines¡¯ warriors are known for their balance and adaptability¡ªstrong in every aspect, though some argue that makes them less specialized in any one area. Additionally, with my connections to Ultramarines¡¯ logistics, I can help smooth the process and secure resources for the Chapter."


    Jacob slid another book forward, its dark red cover emblazoned with a winged blood drop. "Then there¡¯s the genetic lineage of the Blood Angels. Their gene-seed carries both great potential and a heavy burden. After the Horus Heresy, their Primarch, Sanguinius, was slain by Warmaster Horus. That tragic moment left a lasting mark on his genetic legacy, resulting in what¡¯s known as the ''Black Rage.''"


    ¡°Black Rage?¡± Kayvaan frowned. ¡°What happened? How could Lord Sanguinius¡¯s legacy become contaminated?¡±


    ¡°Well, ¡®contaminated¡¯ isn¡¯t exactly accurate,¡± Jacob admitted, ¡°but after so many years, that¡¯s how people describe it. Here¡¯s what actually happens: Deep within the Blood Angels'' gene seeds lies a fragment of Sanguinius¡¯s memories¡ªspecifically, the final battle against Warmaster Horus.Under extreme stress, such as the eve of battle, these memories can surface. Those afflicted believe themselves to be Sanguinius, reliving his final moments during the Siege of Terra.  This state grants them incredible strength and resilience, drawing on their Primarch¡¯s immense power. But the cost is their sanity. They see allies as enemies, and the battlefield becomes a twisted vision of Sanguinius¡¯s last stand. The Black Rage is both a blessing and a curse for those who inherit it.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded slowly. ¡°I see.¡±


    Jacob continued, ¡°If we choose the Blood Angels¡¯ gene-seed, our warriors would inherit some of Sanguinius¡¯s power, which would make them extraordinary fighters. Those with strong wills can resist the Black Rage. Those who can¡¯t are still incredibly effective in combat and are usually grouped into the Death Company¡ªa force specializing in devastating frontal assaults. The downside is significant, though. Warriors who succumb to Black Rage rarely recover. For a small new chapter like ours, where every soldier is precious, high sacrifices are a steep price to pay.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed. "We can¡¯t afford too many losses. Every soldier matters.¡±


    Jacob reached for the last book, its cover black as midnight. ¡°This is the genetic legacy of the Raven Guard. If you choose this, your warriors would excel in stealth, infiltration, assassinations, and sabotage¡ªtactics perfectly suited for a smaller Chapter like ours.¡±


    His tone darkened as he continued. ¡°But the Raven Guard¡¯s gene-seed has its own flaws. During the Heresy, their genetic material was nearly destroyed during the catastrophic events on Istvaan V and Corax¡¯s later attempts to replenish their numbers. The implantation process is highly unstable, with a low success rate."


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait, didn¡¯t the Raven Guard destroyed?¡±

 Chapter 36 - Two Member

    ¡°Destroyed!?¡± Jacob frowned, thinking for a moment. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard much about them lately, so it¡¯s possible. But it¡¯s more likely they¡¯ve gone dark, conducting some secret mission. It¡¯s their style¡ªkeeping everything under wraps. To be honest, I can¡¯t confirm their status, but we could investigate their homeland if this concerns you so much. Who told you they were destroyed?¡±


    ¡°Inquisitor Elizabeth,¡± Kayvaan replied.


    Jacob scoffed. ¡°Ah, the Inquisition. That explains it. Their word is always hard to trust. They¡¯d rather see all Star Chapters destroyed to maintain their version of order. Did she say this during an inquiry?¡±


    Kayvaan nodded. ¡°Not outright. But her words strongly implied it.¡±


    Jacob sighed. ¡°Typical. The Inquisition thrives on half-truths and ambiguity. They create webs of doubt and fear, isolating and breaking down their targets. It¡¯s a method designed to expose hidden weaknesses or deviations, and they apply it ruthlessly to anything or anyone they can¡¯t control.¡± His tone hardened. ¡°Given your unique situation, it¡¯s no surprise they¡¯d single you out.¡±


    Kayvaan''s expression darkened. "I was cursed, but that''s all in the past," he said sharply, steering the conversation away. "Let''s talk about the Raven Guard."


    Jacob leaned back slightly, unfazed by the abrupt turn in the conversation. "The Inquisition hasn¡¯t fully claimed the Raven Guard is gone, but their silence raises questions. The truth is, we¡¯ve had no contact with the Raven Guard since you woke up. No communication, no reports. Even the gene-seed we¡¯ve been granted access to is stored material from Mars, likely centuries old. These archives are reliable, but they lack the quality."


    "I get that," Kayvaan replied, frowning. "But here''s what I don¡¯t understand¡ªwhy don¡¯t people living on Terra have any real information about an active chapter? We can¡¯t even confirm if they¡¯re still operational."


    Jacob didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he countered with a question of his own. "Do you know how many active Space Marine Chapters the Imperium has right now?"


    "No idea," Kayvaan admitted.


    "In one of the official reports, the number of active Chapters was estimated to be between 989 and 1,021," Jacob explained. "But that¡¯s just an estimate. Even the Imperium itself doesn¡¯t have an exact count. Space Marine Chapters are highly autonomous. Some are deployed on long-term missions, and others quietly establish successor Chapters. It happens more often than you¡¯d think. Combine that with the labyrinth of bureaucracy, the rigid hierarchy, and the vast distances across the galaxy, and tracking every Chapter becomes almost impossible. If a Chapter doesn¡¯t want to be found, they won¡¯t be."


    Jacob leaned forward slightly, his tone more serious. "Chapters like the Raven Guard, who specialize in covert operations, are even harder to track. Even the Inquisition struggles to keep tabs on them. If a Chapter decided to rebel, the Imperium might not notice until the rebellion was already underway."


    "So, what¡¯s the status of the Raven Guard?" Kayvaan pressed.


    Jacob shrugged. "No idea. If they¡¯re not reporting to the Imperium, the Imperium assumes they¡¯re fine. The surrounding sectors near the Raven Guard¡¯s territories are quiet, so there¡¯s no immediate reason to investigate. If you want real answers, someone would have to travel there and check personally. But right now, there¡¯s no pressing need for that."


    Kayvaan sighed, pushing the thought aside. There were more urgent matters at hand. His eyes turned to the books before him, each outlining the strengths and weaknesses of different gene-seeds. The Ultramarines, with their balanced traits, were the ideal all-rounders¡ªcompetent in every area but excelling in none. Their adaptability made them the backbone of the Imperium¡¯s Chapters, a reliable choice for most missions. However, their approach required time¡ªcenturies, in fact¡ªto fully develop into a seasoned force. For someone like Kayvaan, waiting hundreds of years wasn¡¯t an option.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The Blood Angels, on the other hand, were ferocious warriors with incredible power on the battlefield. But their berserker tendencies and the curse of the Black Rage made them less suitable for smaller, tactical missions. Besides, their peculiarities weren¡¯t something an outsider like Kayvaan could fully understand or control.


    Kayvaan asked, "What does the Raven Guard¡¯s gene-seed authorization provide for us?"


    Jacob nodded. "The Raven Guard¡¯s gene-seed ensures recruits will inherit the genetic modifications necessary to create warriors capable of their specialized tactics¡ªstealth, precision, and adaptability. However, their gene-seed has been fragile since the Heresy, and the success rate for implantation is lower than other legacies. Still, it¡¯s a viable foundation for a Chapter like ours."


    Kayvaan thought for a moment. Weapons can be replaced. Ships can be forged. Supplies can always be requisitioned. But gene-seed? That¡¯s irreplaceable¡ªthe lifeblood of a Chapter.


    Jacob continued, "When a veteran falls, his gene-seed is recovered by the Apothecaries. It¡¯s critical to sustaining a Chapter¡¯s numbers and ensuring its genetic legacy endures. Every recruit who carries that gene-seed will inherit the biological enhancements needed to uphold the Chapter¡¯s traditions and combat doctrine. It¡¯s a cycle¡ªeach generation building upon the strengths of the last. That¡¯s what makes the gene pool invaluable."


    As long as the gene-seed remains pure and intact, the Chapter can rebuild itself after losses. Even after devastating defeats, a Chapter can recover over time, using its gene-seed as the foundation for a new generation of Space Marines. However, some Chapters, like the Raven Guard, faced catastrophic setbacks during the Horus Heresy. The losses at Istvaan V devastated their numbers and severely weakened their gene-seed, leaving it prone to instability.


    In contrast, the Ultramarines¡¯ gene-seed is renowned for its stability and reliability. This makes it a common foundation for successor Chapters, allowing them to produce balanced and effective warriors. It¡¯s no surprise that many see the Ultramarines as the standard for the Adeptus Astartes. ¡°We¡¯ll use the Raven Guard¡¯s gene-seed and inherit their strength,¡± Kayvaan declared.


    ¡°But the success rate of the operation¡­¡± someone hesitated.


    ¡°I¡¯ve reviewed the data thoroughly,¡± Kayvaan interrupted. ¡°I know how the Ravens handled things in the past. Their harsh training caused many unnecessary deaths, but we can change that. During training, we won¡¯t push soldiers to the point of dying. For the surgeries, we¡¯ll make adjustments to increase success rates¡ªeliminating high-risk procedures and borrowing techniques from the Ultramarines where applicable.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that go against tradition?¡±


    ¡°Tradition?¡± Kayvaan smiled faintly. ¡°We¡¯re not recreating the Raven Guard; we¡¯re building something new. Tradition isn¡¯t a concern.¡±


    Jacob nodded. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    ¡°Now, for the next steps: We¡¯ll need to coordinate with the Ecclesiarchy to assign Chaplains, arrange weapons and equipment through the Munitorum, and select suitable Captains and Navigators for our fleet. We also need to involve the Mechanicus for tech-priests and servitors to aid in constructing the fortress-monastery. There¡¯s much to organize.¡±


    Setting up a new chapter in the remote Eastern Fringe, far from the Empire, was no easy task. Fortunately, Kayvaan had Jacob¡¯s help. Unlike typical Space Marines, Kayvaan had a softer personality. He could smile warmly, speak kindly, and even pay small bribes when necessary to ease bureaucratic hurdles. Jacob, who observed these actions, found it amusing. ¡°An Astartes negotiating like a Munitorum clerk,¡± he often remarked. But Kayvaan¡¯s methods worked. Within a month¡ªa record time¡ªthe entire process was completed.


    ¡°The official recognition of the Chapter has been issued,¡± Jacob said, presenting the scroll to Kayvaan. He stepped back, dropped to one knee, and placed a fist over his chest. With solemn reverence, he recited an oath in High Gothic, pledging unwavering loyalty to the Chapter and the Emperor¡¯s eternal service.


    Kayvaan raised his hand, mimicking a ceremonial sword, and tapped Jacob¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Welcome, my brother.¡± With this simple but solemn gesture, the ceremony was complete. The Knights Templar¡¯s roster grew from one to two.

 Chapter 37 - Psyker

    Elizabeth knelt alone in the quiet chapel, her head bowed in prayer before the Emperor¡¯s golden statue. Her heart was heavy with doubt, an unusual state for someone as resolute as she. She desperately sought guidance from the Emperor, her thoughts a chaotic storm.


    For an Inquisitor, such doubt was almost heretical. The Inquisition demanded unyielding resolve, and its operatives were taught to trust no one¡ªnot even themselves. Their faith lay solely in the Emperor. Suspicion was their greatest weapon, and ruthlessness their shield. This relentless vigilance was the foundation of their work, and failure to meet these standards often resulted in swift and brutal judgment.


    Elizabeth had earned her position through decades of service. She had purged heretics, destroyed xenos, and resisted the temptations of Chaos. Her decisions carried unimaginable weight, for her authority could override planetary governors, military leaders, and even Astartes. She could order the Exterminatus of a world, extinguishing billions of lives if deemed necessary. Yet now, as she knelt in the silence of the chapel, uncertainty gnawed at her¡ªa shadow she couldn¡¯t escape.


    As Elizabeth knelt before the towering statue of the Emperor, her head bowed in silent prayer, the sound of heavy wooden doors creaking open broke the stillness of the sanctum. The faint echo of footsteps followed, precise and orderly. She opened her eyes, her thoughts snapping back to the present, and turned to see rows of young girls entering the sacred hall in disciplined lines, their movements synchronized like a ceremonial march.


    This was not Elizabeth¡¯s personal sanctuary. Even her esteemed position as an Inquisitor did not grant her authority over such a place. Churches on Terra were sacred ground, controlled by the Ecclesiarchy and maintained by the Adepta Sororitas¡ªthe Sisters of Battle. These militant warriors were the armed force of the Imperial Creed, bound by the Decree Passive to be exclusively female. This decree, a relic of the Age of Apostasy, forbade the Ecclesiarchy from maintaining men under arms, forcing them to create a force of warrior women instead. Thus, the Sisters of Battle were born¡ªa symbol of unshakable faith and martial devotion.


    The Sisters of Battle recruited young girls from the Schola Progenium, taking them in at a young age and raising them under the strict doctrines of the Ecclesiarchy. These children received what the Sisters proudly called ¡°the most orthodox education.¡± Outsiders might whisper their doubts in private, labeling it indoctrination or brainwashing, but none dared voice such opinions openly. To the Sisters, it was no lie¡ªthey were zealots, utterly devoted to the Emperor. To them, no act in his name was too extreme.


    Every Sister was a fervent believer. Their faith was absolute, their loyalty unwavering, their dedication unmatched. Under the guidance of an older Sister, the girls entered the hall and knelt before the golden statue in perfect unison. Their soft voices rose in a hymn, filling the church with a hauntingly pure melody. It was a song Elizabeth knew well, often sung by the Sisters as they marched into battle. For a moment, the tender, earnest voices stirred something deep within her heart. Almost unconsciously, she found herself humming along to the familiar lyrics:This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "A spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos, From the lightning and the tempest, Our Emperor, deliver us. From plague, temptation and war, Our Emperor, deliver us.


    From the scourge of the Kraken, Our Emperor, deliver us. From the blasphemy of the Fallen, Our Emperor, deliver us. From the begetting of daemons, Our Emperor, deliver us.


    From the curse of the mutant, Our Emperor, deliver us. A morte perpetua, Domine, libra nos. That thou wouldst bring them only death, That thou shouldst spare none, That thou shouldst pardon none, We beseech thee, destroy them."


    The hymn carried Elizabeth back to a distant memory, to her earliest days in the Schola Progenium. It was the first song she had ever learned, sung alongside her fellow initiates as they trained. For Elizabeth, those days felt like salvation.


    The training was strict, but she remembered waking each morning to sunlight streaming through barred windows. The walls shielded her from the biting wind, and the roof kept out the relentless rain. She had a clean cot, simple blankets, and a meal waiting for her. No death. No hunger. No beatings. No cruel words or kicks to endure. For an orphan who had survived by scavenging scraps on the streets, this life felt like a blessing. Praying to the Emperor each day gradually replaced her fear with purpose.


    Most of the girls in the Schola had similar stories. They were orphans, abandoned or left destitute by war, famine, or the countless tragedies that plagued the Imperium. The Sisters gave them shelter, food, and a cause. Elizabeth cherished this life and worked tirelessly, excelling in every lesson and task. Her dedication to the Emperor steeled her resolve and honed her skills. She passed the grueling trials to become a Sister of Battle and fought in countless wars, her faith unyielding.


    Elizabeth thought her life would continue this way¡ªburning with the Emperor¡¯s righteous fury until her inevitable fall on the battlefield. But one mission changed everything.


    It was a perilous assignment, her unit tasked with purging a demonic incursion. The Sisters fought with unwavering faith, their prayers rising in defiance of the Warp¡¯s corruption. Yet the demon was too powerful. One by one, her Sisters fell, their screams echoing in Elizabeth¡¯s ears. She pressed forward, her voice trembling as she recited the Emperor¡¯s holy verses, her faith unbroken even as despair gripped her.


    Elizabeth would never forget that moment. As she faced certain death, she cried out to the Emperor, her voice trembling with desperation. The demon closed in, its cruel laughter echoing in the shattered ruins. Then, something inexplicable happened. It was as though her prayers had been answered directly. The world around her seemed to ripple, and the demon was torn apart, its form disintegrating as if struck by invisible forces.


    Psykers are rare in the Imperium. Their powers stem from the Warp, a dimension of chaotic energy that exists parallel to reality. What humans call "psychic power" is the ability to channel the Warp into the material world. But the Warp is not an empty void; it teems with predatory entities¡ªdemons and worse. Psykers shine like beacons in the Immaterium, their presence impossible to hide.


    The most powerful psykers, known as Alpha-level, are said to burn like stars in the Warp. For demons, they are irresistible prey. If a psyker succumbs to possession or is overwhelmed by a demon, their body becomes a gateway, allowing the Warp to bleed into reality and granting the demon a foothold in the material world.


    Warnings about the dangers of psychic power were as old as humanity itself. The Imperium¡¯s teachings echoed those ancient fears: "The Warp is no gift from the Emperor, but a realm of Chaos. Unchecked, it invites destruction." These warnings were no fiction. Countless worlds had been consumed by the Warp¡¯s horrors, leaving the Imperium no choice but to enforce strict regulations. The rule was clear: if psychic power could not be controlled, it must be destroyed.

 Chapter 38 - Battle Sister Hilsa

    Elizabeth was sent to the Scholastica Psykana, the Imperium¡¯s institution for psyker training. There, she was taught to control her abilities, resist demonic influence, and shield her presence in the Warp. For untrained psykers, resisting a demon¡¯s invasion was nearly impossible. But those who survived the Psykana¡¯s grueling regimen stood a chance of serving the Imperium.


    As always, Elizabeth excelled in her training. She mastered the techniques to hide her "light" in the Warp, outwit the entities that prowled its depths, and wield her abilities as she will. Upon graduation, she was sanctioned and assigned to the Ordo Hereticus, the branch of the Inquisition tasked with hunting witches and heretics.


    The academy¡¯s choir performance ended, and the young girls filed out in neat rows, their voices fading into the stillness of the hall. Yet Elizabeth¡¯s mind was restless. There were questions she couldn¡¯t shake.


    The higher-ups of the Inquisition seemed reluctant to dig further into one particular question: Was Kayvaan truly what he seemed? Or was he something far more dangerous? The Inquisition¡¯s higher-ups seemed divided. Some argued that Kayvaan, now far beyond the Imperium¡¯s reach in the distant Eastern Fringe, posed no immediate threat. The Eastern Fringe was a realm of chaos and shadows, a region where Imperial influence was tenuous at best. Even finding a reliable star map of the area was a challenge. Others, however, saw complacency as heresy in itself. Whether Kayvaan was an enemy, or even a demon, no longer mattered. As far as the Inquisition was concerned, he was someone else¡¯s problem now.


    Still, there were whispers. The higher-ups had plans for Kayvaan and his newly forming Chapter. For now, they seemed content to let him go, hoping perhaps to turn his journey to their advantage.


    Another reason for their inaction was Elizabeth herself. As the inquisitor responsible for reviewing Kayvaan, she had found no solid evidence of his corruption. Yes, he bore the curse of Slaanesh, one of the most feared chaos gods among demons. But curses were complicated, and there was no proof he had fully succumbed. Executing him without evidence would only invite backlash, tarnishing the Inquisition¡¯s reputation. And Kayvaan was no ordinary man; his background made him a dangerous adversary.


    But Elizabeth couldn¡¯t let it go. Her conscience and sense of justice screamed against the idea of turning a blind eye. What if Kayvaan truly was a demon? What about the people under his command? How long before they became his unwitting pawns¡ªor worse, his victims?


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t believe him. Her intuition whispered that there was something off about Kayvaan, something she couldn¡¯t ignore. Elizabeth had learned to trust her instincts.


    ¡°Elizabeth?¡± A familiar voice called out, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned her head and froze. A young sister in a pristine white robe stood before her, her slender figure framed by the sunlight streaming through the arched windows. The nun¡¯s golden hair, styled in a simple, doll-like cut, shimmered as she smiled. Her delicate features¡ªround nose, small mouth, and big, expressive eyes¡ªradiated both warmth and innocence.¡°Is it really you, Elizabeth? It¡¯s me, Hilsa! Do you remember me?¡± The young woman¡¯s voice was filled with disbelief and joy.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as the familiar figure stepped into the hall. ¡°Sister Hilsa?¡± she asked, her voice steady but tinged with disbelief. ¡°By the Emperor¡¯s grace¡­ it is you.¡±


    Elizabeth and Hilsa had grown up together. They had faced countless challenges side by side, building an unshakable bond over the years. But after becoming Battle Sisters, they had been assigned to different group, separated by duty and the relentless chaos of war. To meet again, alive and well, was nothing short of a miracle.


    Their reunion was like a rare beam of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. For a moment, the weight of duty and war seemed to lift, and they spoke as they once had. ¡°I¡¯ve been blessed with command,¡± Hilsa said, gesturing to the heraldry on her armor. The golden cross, etched with the Roman numeral III, marked her as a Sister Superior. ¡°The Emperor has granted me the honor of leading a squad of Battle Sisters.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s smile faltered, and her expression grew somber. ¡°Me? I¡­ I can¡¯t fight anymore.¡±


    Hilsa¡¯s eyes widened, her expression one of restrained concern. ¡°What happened, Sister?¡±


    Elizabeth sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. ¡°I encountered an enemy beyond anything I had faced before. My Sisters¡­ they all fell in battle. I was the only one who survived.¡± Her voice faltered, heavy with sorrow. ¡°When I returned, I was deemed unfit for active service. They reassigned me to advisory duties within the Ecclesiarchy.¡±


    Hilsa¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Unfit for service? You? That doesn¡¯t sound like the Sister Elizabeth I know. You were the finest among us¡ªthe most disciplined, the most faithful. If anyone could endure, it would be you.¡±


    Elizabeth forced a bitter smile. ¡°There¡¯s no choice. Orders are orders. I have to accept it.¡±


    Hilsa¡¯s gaze softened, but there was a glint of understanding in her eyes. ¡°And yet, here you are, serving the Emperor in your own way.¡± She paused, leaning slightly closer. ¡°Tell me, Elizabeth, are you truly working for the Ecclesiarchy?¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s expression tightened, and she remained silent. Hilsa smirked knowingly. ¡°I see. So, it¡¯s true. You¡¯ve been seconded to the Inquisition.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. ¡°How did you¡ª?¡±


    Hilsa chuckled softly. ¡°Sister, we trained together. I know you better than you think. The Emperor¡¯s light shines brightly on you, and your skills have always set you apart. You may wear a different mantle now, but your purpose remains the same.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s heart skipped a beat. She lowered her gaze, steadying herself with a deep breath. When she looked up again, her expression was composed. ¡°Yes, Sister Hilsa. I am seconded to the Inquisition. But this is not a matter for open discussion. You¡¯ve been briefed, I assume?¡±


    Hilsa nodded, her tone shifting to one of seriousness. ¡°Yes. My team has been assigned to your operation. When I saw your name listed as the commanding officer, I thought it was an error. It¡¯s been a long time, Sister.¡±


    Elizabeth offered a faint smile. ¡°The Emperor¡¯s will guides us both. I trust you and your team are prepared.¡±


    Hilsa looked around seeing only both of them her facade dropped, with a infectious smile she asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to seeing you for so long. Meeting you here feels like a blessing. But tell me, Sister, why were you praying to the God-Emperor? Is something troubling you?¡±


    Elizabeth already know her true personality so she doesn¡¯t find it weird. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    Hilsa tilted her head with a knowing smile. ¡°We trained together for years. I know you well, Sister. Your silence speaks volumes.¡±


    Elizabeth sighed in defeat. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll tell you.¡± She hesitated but eventually shared her concerns, skimming over the details to avoid anything classified.


    Hilsa listened attentively, nodding now and then. When Elizabeth finished, Hilsa clapped her hands together. ¡°Oh, is that all? Sister, you¡¯re overthinking this. You¡¯re still adjusting to your role as an Inquisitor, that¡¯s all.¡±

 Chapter 39 - Plan Agains Eldar

    Elizabeth frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Hilsa began, her tone turning serious, ¡°our methods are completely different. As Battle Sisters, we confront heretics and demons head-on. Our job is simple¡ªeliminate the threat. Evidence? Judgments? That¡¯s not our concern. But you, as an Inquisitor, have a different role. You work in the shadows, gathering evidence, making decisions, and passing judgment. It¡¯s not about pulling the trigger anymore¡ªit¡¯s about understanding when and why to do it. It¡¯s a totally different mindset.¡±


    "Indeed, it makes sense. Alas, there is no other way. It seems I¡¯ll have to put aside matters in the Eastern Fringe for now. That  Kayvaan is very lucky."


    "Lucky? That¡¯s hard to say. Sister, you probably don¡¯t know the full scope of our operation yet, do you?"


    "A big operation? What do you mean? Tell me!"


    "No problem. Sister, since you¡¯re about to be officially appointed soon, it¡¯s fine if I tell you first. The operation¡¯s focus is on the Eastern Fringe."


    "The Eastern Fringe?"


    "Yes, the Eastern Fringe."


    Hilsa laid out everything she knew. The Inquisition is gearing up for a massive operation in the Eastern Fringe. The task force includes twelve inquisitors, sixty-eight Interrogators and their attendants, and two regiments of battle sisters. This formidable group will be sent to the Eastern Fringe to establish control.


    It seems that with recent stability across the Empire, the Inquisition has freed up some resources. Naturally, the higher-ups aren¡¯t going to let their forces sit idle. The leaders decided it was time to bring the Eastern Fringe under the Inquisition¡¯s authority. While the long-term goal is to secure the region entirely for the Emperor, the immediate focus will be on exploration, groundwork, and laying the foundation for future expansion.


    The first step is establishing three core monasteries in the Eastern Fringe. These monasteries will serve as the Inquisition¡¯s bases in the region, and future operations will revolve around them. After hearing this, Elizabeth didn¡¯t linger. She quickly got Hilsa¡¯s address, exchanged goodbyes, and rushed back to the court to verify the information.


    "Yes, the operation is real, and you¡¯re part of it. The detailed briefing and related documents have already been sent to you. Wait, what? You didn¡¯t receive any notice?" Elizabeth¡¯s superior, Randall Jonde, frowned. With his round face and an almost jovial sparkle in his eyes, he looked like a harmless middle-aged man. But anyone who knew him understood his reputation as a cunning and ruthless strategist.


    Randall grumbled, "Honestly, it¡¯s been three days since the notices were sent out! What are those Administratum doing? Anyway, there¡¯s also a surprise for you in this mission."


    "I already know," Elizabeth replied. "I ran into Hilsa earlier and heard about it from her. But I can¡¯t shake this uneasy feeling about the mission. If it¡¯s just about building monastry, why send so many inquisitors? And why such a small combat team?"


    "It¡¯s not just about building monastery," Randall said, suddenly serious.. ¡°If it were, we¡¯d leave it to the Mechanicus. This mission is about waging war¡ªa war in the shadows.¡±


    "A secret war? Against who?"


    "A year ago, an inquisitor was killed in the Eastern Fringe," Randall explained. "His body was mutilated¡ªcut into over a hundred pieces. The response from the region was swift, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Fourteen more inquisitors have died there since then. We¡¯ve completely lost control, particularly the outermost territories. This mission is designed to reestablish Imperial authority.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.Elizabeth frowned. ¡°Who is responsible?¡±


    ¡°The Eldar,¡± Randall replied, his voice cold. ¡°Rangers, specifically from Alaitoc. They¡¯re shadow-walkers¡ªmasters of stealth and assassination. An army is useless against them. This operation will focus on locating their base and eliminating their presence. Capture and interrogation are secondary objectives.¡±


    The Eldar are a mysterious and dangerous alien race. In the cold and ruthless galaxy, they are just one of the many threats humanity faces. "Do all Eldar rangers act alone?" Elizabeth asked, frowning.


    "No one knows for sure. We¡¯ll figure that out when we get there. The Eldar are an enigma, and we know very little about them. Hopefully, this operation will change that."


    The relationship between the Eldar and the Imperium is one of tenuous coexistence and frequent conflict. On rare occasions, they have fought alongside humans to face mutual threats, such as Chaos incursions or rampaging Ork hordes. But they¡¯re far from allies. Battles between humans and the Eldar are frequent, and trust is nonexistent.


    The Eldar resemble humans at first glance¡ªtall, slender, with elegant faces and flawless, pale skin. But a closer look reveals their pointed ears, inhumanly graceful movements, and extraordinary skill. In combat, their agility and swiftness make them terrifying opponents.


    Randall continued, "They are cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless. They view humanity as little more than a tool or an obstacle to their survival. Trusting them is a fool¡¯s game."


    The Empire''s disdain for the Eldar runs deep. If given the chance, the Imperium would gladly wipe them from existence, for humanity alone should rule the galaxy. The Eldar are seen as unreliable at best¡ªpotential slaves for the mines or specimens for museums, nothing more. Yet, the reality is far less straightforward. The Empire has no clear way to deal with the Eldar, for they don''t live on planets. Instead, they inhabit enormous, drifting vessels known as Craftworlds.


    These Craftworlds are colossal ships that float in the endless void, far removed from the warmth of stars or planets. Their smooth towers rise into the dark, their domes gazing out into the infinite emptiness of space. Without the light of a star to illuminate them, the task of finding even one Craftworld is nearly impossible. The galaxy is simply too vast, the void too deep. Finding an Eldar Craftworld is not just like searching for a needle in a haystack¡ªit¡¯s thousands of times harder, a task even the gods might fail to accomplish. ¡°Where am I supposed to be stationed?¡± Elizabeth asked, her tone as serious as ever.


    Randall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°You¡¯re so impatient. Can¡¯t you wait until the formal orders arrive?¡±


    Elizabeth''s frown deepened, but Randall continued before she could voice her objection. ¡°Very well. Let¡¯s review the data,¡± he said, unrolling a cracked and faded star map onto the table. With a gauntleted finger, he traced the edge of the Imperium¡¯s holdings and tapped a shadowed region. ¡°It¡¯s somewhere in the Eastern Fringe. Beyond reliable Astropathic reach.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes narrowed at the map, her lips thinning in disapproval. ¡°This? This isn¡¯t a map¡ªit¡¯s a relic. How do you expect anyone to navigate this?¡±


    Randall shrugged. ¡°The information is what it is, The Eastern Fringe has always been a patchwork of half-truths and guesswork. The true frontier of the Empire. Yeah, the map¡¯s a bit outdated¡ªupdating it is part of your job. Your mission is tied to the new lord assigned there, a guy named Kayvaan or something. You reviewed him recently, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I remember now,¡± Elizabeth said, her mood brightening. ¡°It¡¯s all part of the Emperor¡¯s grand plan. Evil will eventually face divine judgment.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. To be specific, this Kayvaan guy is what we call a ¡®lighthouse.¡¯ His position is critical¡ªhe¡¯s to lead a new Space Marine chapter and govern three system. He¡¯s expected to fend off weaker enemies on his own and at least hold his ground against tougher ones. Your job is to shadow him, keep a safe distance, and report back. Help him when necessary, but don¡¯t make it obvious. You¡¯re the ¡®eye,¡¯ watching from the shadows. The Inquisition will cover any expenses, so don¡¯t be stingy.¡±


    Elizabeth blinked in disbelief. ¡°Help him? I¡¯m supposed to help a Space Marine chapter? Isn¡¯t that overkill for a ¡®lighthouse¡¯?¡±


    Randall smirked. ¡°There¡¯s more to this than meets the eye, but you don¡¯t need to know all the details. Just do your job. And remember the protocol¡ªif you encounter something you can¡¯t handle, retreat immediately. Protect the information first, then yourself. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I understand.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now go prepare.¡±

 Chapter 40 - Marius & Magos

    Kayvaan stared at the strange garment in front of him, running his fingers over the smooth material. ¡°What is this made of? It doesn¡¯t feel like fabric or ceramite. The texture¡¯s¡­ odd.¡±


    Jacob, standing beside him, grinned proudly. ¡°Master Kayvaan, you have no idea how special this is. I pulled a lot of strings to get this suit from the Mechanicus.¡± He held up the outfit and gave it a firm shake, revealing a sleek, black, gel-like bodysuit. ¡°This is the latest in experimental scout gear. It¡¯s still in the testing phase, but it¡¯s impressive. The suit has a built-in gravity interference device that can distort surrounding light. When combined with this special cloak, it provides full invisibility. The attached mini-super battery ensures 24 hours of functionality when fully charged. The cloak isn¡¯t just invisible¡ªit¡¯s waterproof, heat-insulating, and can even shift its color like a chameleon for camouflage.¡±


    Jacob then handed over another item¡ªa monocle with a thin, transparent lens set in a golden frame, connected to a delicate golden chain. ¡°This is the Lens of Farseeing, an ancient device recovered from a forgotten forge world. It allows enhanced perception across multiple spectra¡ªinfrared, low-light, and ultraviolet. Once you put it on, the frame bonds lightly with your skin, so you won¡¯t lose it even in intense combat.¡±


    Finally, he presented a massive sniper rifle. ¡°And this¡­ this is a heavy sniper-pattern bolt rifle, blessed by the Omnissiah and consecrated for precision strikes. At 1.7 meters tall, it delivers righteous judgment from unimaginable distances. With this gear, you¡¯ll embody the Emperor¡¯s will as the ultimate scout.¡±


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow, picking up the gear one by one. After suiting up in the bodysuit, donning the glasses, and slinging the cloak over his shoulders, he stepped back to admire the rifle. ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, his voice tinged with approval.


    Kayvaan''s invisibility cloak and color-changing features underwent meticulous testing with the aid of a Tech-Priest. The Mechanicus¡¯s meticulous attention ensured that the Machine Spirit of each artifact was appeased, quickly bringing the equipment to optimal performance. This marked only the beginning of his preparation.


    Standing at just 1.75 meters, Kayvaan was significantly shorter than the towering Space Marines, who exceeded two meters in height even in their lightest armor. For him, finding power armor that fit was out of the question. Despite searching across the empire, none existed that would suit his size. Moreover, his physical strength wasn¡¯t what it used to be, making it nearly impossible for him to wield the colossal armor designed for Space Marines. This harsh reality forced Kayvaan to reevaluate his role. Instead of a frontline warrior, he found his niche as a scout.


    In this new position, Kayvaan could provide invaluable long-range sniper support during battles or act as the unit¡¯s eyes and ears, scouting enemy territory for intelligence. A scout could also carry out surgical strikes on strategic enemy targets, a role perfectly suited to Kayvaan''s current capabilities. With his basic equipment finalized and his path clear, Kayvaan and Jacob left the testing site and headed home.


    The night air was cool, and the streets glowed softly under warm lamplight as the two men walked through the city. Their spirits were high, and their conversation buzzed with ideas about the future of the Knights Templar. From restructuring leadership to base development, soldier training to tactical planning, their enthusiasm carried them through the winding alleys. Before they knew it, they were standing in front of Darius¡¯s residence, which now doubled as the temporary headquarters.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    As they entered, a young voice called out from the dimly lit room. ¡°Master Kayvaan, you¡¯re back! And Master Jacob too.¡± Someone had been waiting for them.


    Kayvaan flipped on the light, revealing Magos Ferratus, his gray robes trimmed in green and red, the colors of Mars, draped over a wiry frame reinforced by cybernetic augmentation. His folded hands rested within his wide sleeves, but what truly commanded attention were the four mechanical limbs extending from his back, moving with an eerie, serpentine precision. His face was a study in cold logic, carved like a machine¡¯s blueprint. One eye gleamed with human sharpness, while the other, a telescopic lens, whirred softly as it adjusted focus.


    ¡°Magos Ferratus,¡± Kayvaan greeted him, his tone neutral. ¡°What brings you here at this hour?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to deliver a report,¡± Ferratus  replied in his smooth, almost robotic tone. One of his mechadendrites extended toward the desk, placing a folder neatly on its surface. ¡°The report is complete. It includes all technical specifications and schematics relevant to the battleship. I trust the Machine Spirit of the data will satisfy your inquiries.¡±


    Kayvaan opened the folder and skimmed through the dense pages of technical data. Closing it, he asked, ¡°You just returned from Mars, correct? How did the negotiations proceed? And the battleship¡ªhas it been sanctified?¡±


    Ferratus was a recent addition to Kayvaan¡¯s retinue, a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus tasked with supporting his chapter in both technological and strategic matters. Alongside him had come Confessor Marius Benedictus, a zealous preacher of the Ecclesiarchy. Their first mission had been to Mars to secure a battleship for the chapters.


    ¡°It went smoothly,¡± Ferratus said, his monotone voice tinged with a rare note of excitement. ¡°The battleship transfer is complete. We acquired a Lunar-class cruiser, the Dros Sovereign. I personally conducted the rites of inspection, and I am pleased to report it is in pristine condition. It is a marvel of design¡ªrobust, efficient, and highly adaptable. While it lacks the sheer firepower of a Retribution-class or the vast holds of a Dominator, its modular construction allows for easier maintenance and refitting compared to other vessels of its size.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned, leaning forward. ¡°You¡¯re telling me we could maintain something like that ourselves?¡±


    ¡°With assistance from the Mechanicus, certainly,¡± Ferratus replied, his mechanical arms gesturing in emphasis. ¡°And do not forget, Chapter Master, your chapter has control over forge world in the Eastern Fringe.¡±


    Kayvaan hesitated. ¡°But that¡¯s barely a functioning forge world by Imperial standards.¡±


    Ferratus¡¯s augmented eye whirred as he focused on Kayvaan. ¡°True, but repairs and modular replacements are well within its capacity if supplied with sufficient raw materials. The Dros Sovereign was constructed in a sub-sector where much of the material came from mining and industrial worlds. Compared to those facilities, your forge world is a notable step up in capability, albeit requiring substantial investment to achieve its full potential.¡±


    Kayvaan''s astonishment turned to excitement. ¡°This is incredible. When can we put the battleship into action?¡±


    Ferratus¡¯s mechadendrites twitched as he spoke. ¡°It will take no less than two Terran years to complete the modifications, assuming all goes according to the Omnissiah¡¯s will. The Lunar-class cruiser, originally constructed for the Imperial Navy, was designed with naval engagements in mind: firepower, armor, and speed. While excellent for fleet actions, certain modifications are required to align it with the needs of the Knights Templar.¡±


    As he spoke, a mechanical arm extended from Ferratus¡¯s servo-harness, retrieving a data-scroll encoded with sacred schematics. The arm unfurled it onto the table with precise, mechanical efficiency. ¡°Observe,¡± Ferratus intoned, pointing with another mechadendrite at a section of the schematic. ¡°This is the primary crew deck, positioned in the most stable portion of the ship. It has been designated as the site of a grand sanctuary to honor the Emperor. Construction has already begun under the supervision of Confessor Marius, who remains on Mars to ensure the spiritual sanctity of the work.¡±

 Chapter 41 - Ebony Shadow

    Kayvaan studied the schematic, his mind imagining the grandeur of a sanctum aboard such a vessel. The Lunar-class cruiser, though considered a medium-sized warship by Imperial standards, was still an immense construct. Its sheer scale dwarfed anything conceived in human history before the Age of the Imperium. Aircraft carriers of ancient Terra would be but specks compared to its massive hull.


    Judging by the layout and scale of the planned renovations, the cathedral would rival the grandeur of ancient Terran structures like the Cologne Cathedral, but its details far surpassed its terrestrial counterpart. Carved reliefs of the Emperor¡¯s triumphs, intricate stained-glass windows depicting saints and martyrs, and even a massive organ designed to fill the ship with sacred hymns were all part of the plans. However, the practical side of Kayvaan couldn¡¯t ignore the absurdity of such a project. On a warship, every meter of space was critical. More storage could mean additional munitions, vital supplies, or resources to extend the crew¡¯s survival in deep space. Instead, they were dedicating this prime space to a cathedral.


    Kayvaan couldn¡¯t help but question the rationale behind it. Wasn¡¯t this a bit too extravagant? Perhaps ¡°extravagant¡± wasn¡¯t even the right word. It felt outright absurd. Still, Kayvaan nodded without hesitation, masking his thoughts with a firm expression. ¡°It shall be so,¡± he said, his voice steady.


    In the Imperium, unwavering reverence for the God-Emperor was not merely expected¡ªit was absolute. Questioning such actions could be seen as heresy. Kayvaan knew this all too well. To question such a project, even internally, was a dangerous line of thought, a matter of survival. ¡°Do you require anything further from us?¡± Kayvaan asked, steering the subject. ¡°Are there capable Mechanicus artisans on Mars?¡±


    Magos''s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. ¡°Rest assured. If something cannot be achieved on Mars, then it cannot be achieved anywhere in the Imperium. The Red Planet is the home of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the finest minds and hands in existence. ¡°That is good to know,¡± Kayvaan replied, nodding. ¡°I look forward to seeing the finished chapel. Please, continue.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Lord Kayvaan,¡± Magos said. ¡°After the chapel, we¡¯ll begin augmentations to the apothecarion. It will be fully equipped for both combat surgeries and implantation rites for our warriors. Additionally, we¡¯re removing the dorsal macro-cannons on the lower deck to install four drop pod launch bays. Most wars among the stars inevitably require ground deployments, and these bays will allow for rapid insertion of strike forces to planetary surfaces.


    Kayvaan nodded. ¡°Ground deployments are the teeth of the Raven Guard. That will suffice.¡± He paused before shifting slightly forward, his tone low but deliberate. ¡°But what of the weapons? We require precision, Magos, not blunt instruments. Have you something to match our doctrine, or are you offering indiscriminate devastation again?¡±


    The Magos¡¯s mechadendrites twitched in what might have been amusement as he slid a data-slate across the table. ¡°I believe this weapon meets your requirements: orbital lance arrays capable of precise targeting and focused devastation.¡±


    "I believe this weapon meets your requirements: orbital lance arrays capable of precise targeting and focused devastation."Magos said, placing a data-slate before Kayvaan


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience..


    "Focused devastation, you say?" Kayvaan leaned forward, scanning the schematic. "How accurate are we talking?"


    "From lighting the candles on an altar to reducing a fortress three levels deep to molten slag," Magos replied with a faint smile.


    "Acceptable," Kayvaan said, nodding. "I¡¯ll need four of these lance arrays and a launch platform integrated into the strike cruiser to deploy and retrieve them."


    Magos''s mechadendrites whirred as he etched the request onto his scroll. After a brief pause, he asked, "Forgive me, Lord Kayvaan, but may I inquire... what purpose will this weapon serve? Standard bombardments from the ship remain quite sufficient for most campaigns."


    Kayvaan leaned back, his tone measured. "Standard bombardments lack control. Saturation fire has its place, but it¡¯s far from ideal for striking singular targets. A cruiser like ours cannot always hold an advantageous firing position. Worse yet, conventional bombardment allows the enemy to track our attack vectors back to their origin. This ship is newly commissioned, Magos, and we cannot risk its loss. These lance satellites, on the other hand, are efficient, expendable, and easily replaced. Should the enemy destroy one, it is of no great consequence."


    "Logical," Magos conceded with a bow of his head. "The last task remaining is the refurbishment of the hab-blocks and leisure facilities: three training halls, a strategium, and a reserve hangar for auxiliary craft. Modifications will take two Terran months, with the servitors already engaged. That concludes my report."


    "Well done." Kayvaan gave an approving nod. "Any other matters concerning the cruiser?"


    Magos''s optics dimmed slightly. "There is one thing, my lord. Protocol requires you to name the vessel."


    Kayvaan sighed, fingers drumming on the desk. "Of course. Another name to conjure. Very well. Call her Ebony Shadow. That has a certain dignity to it. Now, what of Darius?"


    "His gene-screening is complete," Magos replied. "A viable match has been found in the archives. Lord Darius meets all requirements for the operation, and surgery may commence once the cruiser is battle-ready."


    "Excellent work, Magos," Kayvaan said, dismissing him with a nod. "You are dismissed. Go recharge¡ªyour cogitators deserve it."


    Magos''s joints hissed as he bowed, the faint hum of servos filling the silence. "Thank you, Lord Kayvaan," he said before departing the chamber.


    Once alone, Kayvaan retrieved a thick stack of dossiers from his desk. These were profiles of veteran serfs and trusted Chapter serfs, hand-selected as candidates for the Ebony Shadow¡¯s command. Though the role held modest significance within the Chapter hierarchy, aboard the vessel, the chosen captain¡¯s authority would be as absolute as Kayvaan¡¯s own. Every crew-serf, servitor, and thrall aboard would obey without question, for the captain¡¯s word would carry the will of the Chapter Master.


    Kayvaan scrutinized each parchment, absorbing every detail, every mark of merit, and every pict-capture. Hours passed before he narrowed the selection to three. But names on a page were not enough¡ªhe would need to test them personally.


    A creaking door disturbed his focus. Kayvaan looked up to see Darius stumbling in, his blond hair disheveled and his tunic unkempt. The acrid tang of amasec clung to him like smoke. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" Kayvaan¡¯s tone was sharp. "You reek of drink."


    "Hic... who, me?" Darius slurred, straightening as if to feign dignity. "I wouldn¡¯t dare!"


    "Clearly," Kayvaan said dryly, his brow furrowed. "Drinking alone now, are we? Didn¡¯t think to invite me?"


    "You¡¯re always working," Darius said with a lopsided shrug. "Even if I had, you wouldn¡¯t have joined."


    Kayvaan sighed, sinking back into his chair. "Fair. These days, my schedule allows little time for such indulgences. Jacob¡¯s demands see to that."


    In the days before this life, Kayvaan had enjoyed many pastimes, none more so than his appreciation for fine food and drink. The culinary mastery of the Imperium was unparalleled, but here¡ªamong the stars¡ªnutrient paste and ration packs were a bitter reminder of what he had lost. "To live for food is folly, but to eat without joy is heresy," Kayvaan murmured to himself, shaking off the thought.

 Chapter 42 - Opression

    Kayvaan sighed, leaning back in his chair, his thoughts heavy. Pleasure was dangerous¡ªtemptation brought ruin, a siren song for the damned. His body, marked by the taint of Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Excess, ensured he was always under suspicion. The Inquisition¡¯s unrelenting gaze followed him like a predator in the dark. For now, caution was his shield¡ªa lesson learned at great cost.


    ¡®Perhaps things will improve when I leave the Segmentum Solar¡¯, Kayvaan mused grimly. ¡®At least there, I might savor a meal without fanatics crying heresy and seeking to purge me for ¡°indulgence.¡±¡¯ His eyes settled on Darius, who stood before him with naive eagerness. The boy, so bright-eyed and trusting, made Kayvaan¡¯s gut twist with reluctant pity.


    ¡°The gene-screening results are in,¡± Kayvaan said softly, though the weight of his words lingered like a funeral dirge. ¡°You¡¯re a match. There¡¯s no sign of rejection; the implantation process should proceed without complications.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± Darius almost leapt from his seat, excitement igniting his features. He paced like a caged beast, unable to contain himself. ¡°I knew it! I knew I could do it. This is my chance!¡±


    Kayvaan offered a faint, weary smile at the boy¡¯s exuberance. ¡°It surprises me, if I¡¯m honest. Few aspirants come from noble. Most recruits hail from death worlds or hive slums where survival breeds strength. The fact that you passed is rare¡ªmiraculous, even. But tell me honestly¡­ are you sure? Becoming an Astartes is not the honor the Ministorum claims. It is a curse.¡±


    Darius¡¯s grin faltered, confusion crossing his face. ¡°A curse? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Do you truly believe the propaganda, boy?¡± Kayvaan¡¯s voice lowered, words sharp as a blade. ¡°The Imperial Guard are ¡®heroes¡¯ who march gloriously into battle, they say. Lies. They are fodder¡ªlittle more than a delaying tactic. And us? The Adeptus Astartes? We are not human.¡±


    Darius blinked, his excitement draining. ¡°Not human? What are you saying?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s tone darkened further, his gaze unrelenting. ¡°You will cease to be what you are. The transformation changes everything. You gain strength beyond imagination, endurance that defies belief. But at the same time, you will lose¡­ yourself. Your fears. Your desires. Your humanity. Fear makes men human, Darius. Without it, you are something else.¡±


    Darius stood frozen, absorbing the words, his brows furrowing. Kayvaan continued, ¡°You will become unrecognizable¡ªflesh, bone, even your face will warp into something other. And here¡¯s the truth no one speaks of: you will have no need for women, nor will you desire them.¡±


    That struck the boy like a hammer blow. ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± He gawked at Kayvaan, awkwardly gesturing downward. ¡°You mean they¡¯ll¡­ they¡¯ll cut it off?¡± His voice rose in alarm, laced with panic.


    Kayvaan barked a harsh laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Calm yourself. No one will touch you. But your lust, your need for companionship? That will wither like a flame deprived of air. You can still partake, I suppose, but it will mean nothing. It will be an empty act, devoid of joy.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Empty?¡± Darius echoed, his expression horrified. ¡°You mean¡­ I¡¯ll lose everything? Even that?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice dropped, cold and final. ¡°Do you think this life allows for such distractions? Astartes exist to wage war, not to indulge urges. You will lose all semblance of a normal life, and the truth is¡ª¡± He met Darius¡¯s stunned gaze with grim finality. ¡°It will be easier that way. Desire festers like rot when left unchecked.¡±


    Silence hung between them, thick and oppressive. Darius¡¯s youthful confidence fractured, his face a storm of doubt and unease. Kayvaan let the words sink in before speaking again. ¡°The pleasures you know will be stripped from you. Are you ready for that? To sacrifice all that you are?¡±


    Darius hesitated, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. A moment passed before he lifted his chin, resolve flickering in his eyes. ¡°I can endure it. I¡¯ve made my decision. I want to leave. I want to fight.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed, his expression softening, though it did little to hide the bitterness in his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t understand you. You¡¯re a noble¡ªwealth, luxury, and ease have been handed to you since birth. And yet, you wish to abandon all of it for the hell of war. Don¡¯t tell me you seek some foolish sense of purpose?¡±


    Darius¡¯s face darkened. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, as if ensuring no one else could hear. When he leaned in close, his voice was a hushed tremor. ¡°I¡¯m afraid,¡± he whispered. ¡°I can¡¯t stay here. I can¡¯t survive here.¡±


    Kayvaan leaned back, frowning. ¡°Why?¡± he asked, his tone steady but curious.


    Darius¡¯s voice brimmed with excitement, almost spilling over. ¡°I was scared before¡ªtoo scared to even say it. But now? Now it doesn¡¯t matter. Things are different.¡± He paused, his eyes lighting up with fervor. ¡°I want to become one of the Space Marines. Space Marines aren¡¯t afraid of anything. I want to leave this place, get away from all these... creatures. I want to speak my mind freely and, one day, die proudly on the battlefield. No fear. No hesitation. I want to stand tall and face life head-on. I want to be stronger.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Space Marines are fearless,¡± Kayvaan agreed with a nod. ¡°But what are you so afraid of?¡±


    ¡°Everything. Everything here!¡± Darius stepped back with exaggerated movements and flopped onto the couch. He gestured wildly before falling into a quiet, almost haunted voice. ¡°Every breath of air feels wrong, like it¡¯s laced with suspicion. Every glance is probing, like they¡¯re peeling away your soul. The streets are littered with cameras, electronic eyes tracking your every move. It¡¯s everywhere¡ªthis constant surveillance.¡± He let out a hollow laugh. ¡°Even when I drink, I can¡¯t let myself get drunk. You know why? Because I can¡¯t trust anyone. Informants are everywhere, willing to sell you out for the smallest reward. It¡¯s suffocating, like living under the weight of invisible chains. You can¡¯t see them, but they¡¯re there. Always there, tightening around your thoughts until you don¡¯t dare to even think freely.¡±


    Kayvaan scratched the back of his head, his expression thoughtful. He¡¯d heard of similar things in another world but had never experienced them firsthand. ¡°Is it really that bad?¡±


    ¡°Is it that bad?¡± Darius sat up, staring directly at Kayvaan with an intensity that bordered on manic. ¡°Let me tell you a story. I had a friend, a good guy, from a remote galaxy. He came from a wealthy family, generous and full of life. He was the kind of person who lit up a room just by being there. Then one night, he got drunk and said something he shouldn¡¯t have.¡±


    Kayvaan''s curiosity was piqued. ¡°What did he say?¡±


    Darius hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though the walls had ears. ¡°He said, ¡®The Emperor created the universe? What nonsense. Those Sisters are insane.¡¯¡± He chuckled nervously, the sound hollow. ¡°Can you believe that? He actually said that. Out loud. In public.¡±


    Kayvaan''s eyes widened slightly. ¡°What happened?¡±

 Chapter 43 - What it Mean?

    ¡°The whole place went dead silent.¡± Darius¡¯s voice grew distant as he recounted the moment. ¡°The chatter, the laughter, the music¡ªeverything stopped. It was like someone had hit a giant pause button. People froze in their seats, too scared to even look at each other. Then, slowly, everyone just... left. Dispersed like ghosts. I remember sitting there, heart pounding, terrified someone had overheard. I prayed that no one reported him. I hoped he¡¯d be okay.¡±


    He paused, staring at the floor. ¡°But he wasn¡¯t. Three days later, he vanished. Just like that. No warning, no explanation. One day he was there, and the next, he was gone. No one dared to ask what happened. It was like he¡¯d never existed. Even his closest friends acted like he was a figment of imagination, like mentioning his name might bring trouble.¡±


    Kayvaan said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line. He could see the pain etched on Darius¡¯s face, the kind of pain that came from betrayal and loss.


    Darius continued, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. ¡°Someone snitched. Someone in our circle¡ªa person he trusted¡ªbetrayed him. But who? I don¡¯t know. It could¡¯ve been anyone. Hell, it could¡¯ve been all of them. Maybe they thought it wasn¡¯t betrayal. Maybe they believed they were being loyal to the Empire. But I know the truth. It was betrayal. Plain and simple.¡±


    He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. ¡°And the worst part? There¡¯s no trial, no rules, no warning. They don¡¯t tell you what¡¯s forbidden. It¡¯s like living in a world where invisible walls surround you. You don¡¯t see them, but the moment you cross a line, you¡¯re gone. Just like that.¡±


    Darius took a shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he spoke. ¡°That fear? It¡¯s everywhere. It¡¯s in the air we breathe, in the silence between conversations, in every forced smile and nervous laugh. It seeps into your soul until it¡¯s all you know.¡±


    Kayvaan exhaled deeply, still unsure how to respond. He had no words for this kind of invisible terror. But Darius wasn¡¯t done. His voice cracked, full of suppressed emotion. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been dreaming about my friend lately. He was more than just some rich guy. He was smart, thoughtful¡ªa brilliant historian. Everything he said, even when he was drunk, was deliberate. He never spoke without thinking first. And now, looking back, I realize how brave he was to say what he did, even if it cost him everything. He wasn¡¯t just talking nonsense. He was telling the truth. And we all knew it. We just didn¡¯t have the courage to admit it.¡±


    Kayvaan sat there, silent, letting Darius¡¯s words sink in. There was nothing he could say that would make any of this easier. So he listened, offering the only comfort he could in a galaxy that seemed to have none.


    __________________


    Meanwhile somewhere else in the galaxy, a inquisitor is confused. ¡®305 If there¡¯s no meaning, why do they keep whispering that string of numbers?¡¯


    He had to let it go. If he couldn¡¯t decipher any significance, then maybe there truly wasn¡¯t any. He had confidence in this conclusion because he wasn¡¯t just anyone¡ªhe was an Inquisitor. His training had honed a sharp, instinctive sense for numbers and intelligence. Even among the elite ranks of the Inquisition, few could rival his skill in analyzing information. ¡¯So why? What was this all about?¡¯This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    It had started out as a mission like any other¡ªmethodical, structured. But things spiraled out of control. He had been forced to flee, barely surviving. Now, standing at the gates of the town, he allowed himself a moment to breathe. The town was a ¡°sanctuary,¡± at least for now. That gave him some comfort, though not much. He had a premonition that whatever this was, it would end here.


    Stopping at the gate, he pulled out a lho-stick, lit it, and took a long, deliberate drag. The familiar burn in his lungs helped calm his racing thoughts. Slowly, he exhaled the smoke, letting it drift away in the cold night air. He needed to relax, to think clearly.


    This wasn¡¯t just a mission gone wrong; it was the Inquisition¡¯s greatest failure in living memory. Thirteen Inquisitors operating on the Eastern Fringe had been slaughtered¡ªsystematically, brutally. Some were hacked into pieces, others had their skulls blown apart by high-energy pulse fire. One had his throat slit, another burned alive. They died in their offices, in busy city streets, in filthy ditches, and in blazing fires. One even dropped dead in a crowded square for no discernible reason.


    Something was very wrong. He had been tasked with finding out what. He¡¯d scoured every murder site, examined every corpse, pieced together every clue. But his search painted a terrifying picture. Somehow, he¡¯d become the next target.


    How the enemy found him was a mystery, just as it was with the others. Inquisitors didn¡¯t walk around with badges or wear identifying marks. They were masters of concealment¡ªneedles in haystacks, drops of water in the ocean. Yet the enemy had plucked them out one by one. Thirteen times. Fourteen, if we included him. There was no doubt in his mind now¡ªthere was a traitor in the Inquisition. Someone high up. Someone with access to personnel lists classified beyond clearance.


    Knowing this, he had moved cautiously between star systems in the Eastern Fringe, investigating each crime scene. He had gathered critical intelligence, hoping to unravel the truth. But the enemy had caught on to him before he could report back.


    Along the way, his team¡ªtwelve loyal agents¡ªhad been picked off one by one. At first, when the enemy made their move, he¡¯d felt a flicker of triumph. They¡¯d set traps, laid ambushes, ready to capture or kill their assailants. But the tables turned. The hunters became the hunted. The enemy was too powerful, too ruthless to be human.


    From the evidence¡ªdeep blade wounds, bodies scorched by weapons of unknown make, and the lingering sting of psychic interference¡ªhe knew their attackers were no ordinary criminals. They were Eldar. Xenos wanderers, beings of terrifying psychic might, capable of atrocities that defied comprehension. The Imperium had no shortage of foes, but only the most dangerous of mankind could operate at such a scale. Those few were already branded as heretics and closely watched by the Inquisition. No sane rogue would dare provoke the wrath of the Inquisition. It was suicide.


    But the Eldar weren¡¯t human, and they didn¡¯t think like humans. The number haunted him. 305. It was a whisper, low and insistent, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He didn¡¯t know where it came from or who was saying it, but the sound was as clear as a bell. It was psychic interference¡ªhe was certain of that. He had dealt with psykers before and understood their power. They could do things that defied reason: summon fire or ice, control lightning, even glimpse the strands of fate. Sending whispers into someone¡¯s mind? That was child¡¯s play for them.


    So why? What did they want? What it meant¡ªslain victims, unholy rituals, or something far worse¡ªhe could not yet say.

 Chapter 44 - Rosina

    He sighed, frustration etched on his face. Once again, his thoughts circled back to the same question with no answer. He couldn¡¯t understand the Eldar, couldn¡¯t make sense of their motives.


    Dropping his lho-stick to the ground, he crushed it under his boot, grinding it into the dirt. There was no point dwelling on it. He needed to get to the sanctuary and hand over the information he¡¯d gathered. Let the analysts back at the Inquisition figure it out. He had done his part.


    Still, as he walked into the town, a chill ran down his spine. The Inquisitor stepped into the hidden shelter, his boots squelching as they sank into the blood pooled across the floor. The crimson tide was so thick it nearly covered his ankles. Bodies were sprawled in every direction, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, their faces frozen in expressions of disbelief and terror. The air was heavy with the metallic stench of blood and death¡ªeveryone here was dead.


    At the center of the room, a young man with a muscular build was tied to a desk. His body, battered and scarred, resembled a frog strapped to a dissecting table. Standing before him was a slender figure cloaked in dark fabric. The figure¡¯s hood obscured their face, but a small scalpel glinted in their hand. With unsettling grace, they sliced off a thin piece of flesh from the man''s shoulder, as if performing a delicate art.


    ¡°Four hundred and one,¡± the cloaked figure said crisply. Her voice was light and clear, but it was underscored by the shrill, broken screams of the young man strapped to the table. His agony echoed through the dark chamber. As his cries faltered into hoarse gasps, she tilted her head thoughtfully.¡°Efficient, but not optimal. Their resilience is impressive, though crude. I need more time.¡±


    The inquisitor inhaled sharply, steadying himself before speaking in a cold, measured tone. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    The figure turned toward him with languid grace, a mocking smile curling on her lips. Her movements were impossibly fluid, a predator cloaked in beauty. She offered an exaggerated, theatrical bow, her shadow stretching like a spider across the bloodstained floor. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself,¡± she purred, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. ¡°I am Rosina, Farseer of Alaitoc. Your kind call us Eldar¡ªthough you are not worthy of the name. What you are is insignificant, and yet you have crossed into our affairs.¡±


    The inquisitor chose his words carefully, hoping to buy time. ¡°I¡¯ve gone by many names, but none that would mean anything to you. I¡¯m simply one among thousands who serve the Imperium.¡±


    Rosina chuckled, a sound as unsettling as it was melodic. She reached up and pulled back her hood, revealing a face of stunning beauty. Her features were strikingly human, save for her pointed ears and the almost hypnotic elegance in her every gesture. But what unsettled the inquisitor most were her eyes¡ªa trace of madness flickered within them, sharp and unrelenting.


    She glanced at the inquisitor standing by the door and shook her head as though pitying him. ¡°Humans truly are strange creatures. Your names mean nothing to me, and yet you offer them anyway. You understand your insignificance, and yet you still insist on trying to prove otherwise. Look at him.¡± She gestured at the young man strapped to the desk. ¡°Four hundred and two. Another pitiful scream. Don¡¯t you understand your fate? You¡¯re all just prey¡ªborn lowly, destined to die lowly. Your doom in this corner of the galaxy was decided long before you arrived.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The inquisitor¡¯s voice was steady but tinged with frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Our peoples once fought side by side. On Cadia, your warriors and ours stood together against the forces of Chaos. Why have the Eldar turned their blades on former allies?¡±


    ¡°Allies?¡± Rosina let out a derisive laugh. ¡°You speak of Ulthw¨¦¡¯s misguided pact, their hopeless crusade alongside your dying Imperium. We Alaitocians have never shared such delusions.¡±


    ¡°Even so,¡± the inquisitor pressed, his gaze hardening, ¡°why torment our soldiers like this?¡± He pointed at the man on the table, who had begun to moan weakly. ¡°If his skills were inferior, then defeat him and end it. But this? This is barbaric.¡±


    ¡°Torment?¡± Rosina¡¯s gaze turned icy, her voice calm but cutting. ¡°No. This is not torment¡ªit is necessity. Knowledge demands sacrifice, and death is but another step in the cycle. I seek understanding, not pleasure. The mon-keigh must learn to fear what they cannot comprehend.¡± Her lips curled into a cruel smile as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°And yes, let this be a warning. We does not tolerate meddling in our affairs.¡±


    ¡°A warning?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Rosina¡¯s voice carried an almost reverent tone. ¡°I bring death and leave behind bones. Even your kind can understand that warning. You humans should never have set foot on the world you call Eden 5.¡±


    The inquisitor¡¯s brows furrowed in confusion. ¡°Eden 5? That¡¯s an uninhabited planet!¡±


    Rosina¡¯s expression turned cold. ¡°It is our world. We may not dwell on it now, but it is still ours.¡±


    The inquisitor struggled to suppress his rising anger. The arrogance of the Eldar was infuriating. But her words sparked a realization. The strange movements of Craftworld Alaitoc¡ªtheir raids, their warnings¡ªit all centered on Eden 5.


    Maiden worlds were rare jewels in the vast, inhospitable expanse of space. Lush, pristine, and teeming with life, they offered an environment so perfect for human survival it was almost mythical. A single Maiden world could sustain countless generations, providing food, water, and shelter without effort.


    ¡°Eden 5 is under Imperial control,¡± the inquisitor said finally, his voice steady. ¡°Our forces are already establishing colonies there. This,¡± he gestured to the carnage around him, ¡°is preparation for war, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re planning to reclaim it.¡±


    Rosina¡¯s lips curled into a slow smile. ¡°Perhaps. Or perhaps this is simply the beginning. Either way, the message is clear¡ªyou should never have come.¡±


    "ell, enough has been said. I¡¯m tired of you," Rosina said, her voice tinged with mockery. "Besides, what¡¯s the point of you worrying about these things? I¡¯m just the messenger. No matter what you¡¯ve done or what you plan to do, we both know there¡¯s no corner of the galaxy that can escape the gaze of Eldar¡¯s rangers."


    A sly smile spread across Rosina¡¯s face as she raised her hand with lightning speed. In an instant, she drew a shuriken pistol, an elegant but deadly weapon, and pulled the trigger.


    The Inquisitor, didn¡¯t let his guard down for even a moment, but Rosina¡¯s speed was unnatural¡ªfar beyond human capability. He only managed to raise his hand in a futile attempt to shield his face before a storm of monomolecular discs shot out, slicing through him with ease. A heartbeat later, the Inquisitor was nothing more than a pile of flesh and shattered bone. Blood pooled around the remains, spilling freely onto the ground.


    Rosina watched the collapse of the human body with something between fascination and delight. Her lips parted slightly as she licked them, savoring the primal thrill coursing through her veins. No matter how many times she witnessed such a sight, it always awakened a beastly, almost uncontrollable impulse within her.

 Chapter 45 - Why Me?

    The video ended abruptly. With a sharp click, white light filled the small room, dispelling the grim imagery of the recording. Elizabeth stepped into view, wearing her pristine white Sororitas habit. The slits in her uniform offered glimpses of long, toned legs, while her heels clicked against the polished floor with authority. She was striking, undeniably beautiful, her presence commanding attention. A figure like hers could stir desires even in the most pious of men¡ªif not for the fact that she was a Judge of the Inquisition, someone no sane man would dare approach lightly. To Kayvan, it felt like a waste of such beauty.


    Shaking off those lingering thoughts, Kayvaan leaned back and studied the woman. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he asked, gesturing toward the now blank screen. ¡°A horror vid?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Elizabeth replied coldly, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel, ¡°was the last thing seen by the fourteenth Inquisitor assigned to the Eastern Fringe. You¡¯ve just witnessed what he saw in the moments leading up to his death. The Eldar not only killed him but also obliterated the monastry we had painstakingly built in secret. They even destroyed the research facility connected to it.¡±


    Her expression was icy, her tone laced with anger. It didn¡¯t take much to see that Elizabeth was in a foul mood. She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully, then continued, ¡°For the Inquisition, this is an unacceptable loss¡ªa humiliation we cannot tolerate. The Eldar of Alaitoc have mocked us, spit in our faces. But they will learn the true fury of the Emperor soon enough.¡±


    To Kayvaan, it was just another spectacle. He shrugged internally. The deaths of the Inquisition¡¯s people didn¡¯t bother him; if anything, their losses might make things easier for him in the long run. The fewer Inquisitors meddling in the Eastern Fringe, the better. Still, he feigned regret, if only to keep up appearances.


    The regret, however, wasn¡¯t for the dead Inquisitor¡ªit was for not having rations to enjoy the show properly. Suppressing a grin, he put on a solemn face, tilting his head in what he hoped passed for respectful contemplation. ¡°I see,¡± he said. ¡°A tragic loss indeed.¡±


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t seem to notice his lack of genuine emotion. Instead, she stepped closer, her piercing gaze locked onto his. ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering how we got this footage,¡± she said, her tone flat but with an edge of challenge. ¡°The video starts when the Inquisitor enters the town and ends minutes after his death. What you saw was a first-person perspective¡ªhis final moments.¡±


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, what? He just happened to be recording? Doesn¡¯t seem like something your lot would bother with.¡±


    ¡°Our Inquisitor knew his fate the moment his last acolyte fell,¡± Elizabeth explained, her voice steady, though a trace of bitterness crept in. ¡°He understood there was no escape¡ªthat death was inevitable. But even in the face of that, he chose to serve until the very end. He fled to the sanctuary not for his own safety, but to buy time. Time to gather intelligence.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s tone grew colder. ¡°He performed surgery on himself during the voyage, replacing one of his eyes with a mechanical augmetic capable of recording and transmitting what he saw. His only thought was to leave us with knowledge of the enemy, even at the cost of unimaginable pain. Everything you saw¡ªthe enemy, their words, their actions¡ªwas captured by his eye. He paid for that knowledge with his life.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Kayvaan leaned back slightly, rubbing his jaw as he processed her words. He couldn¡¯t deny that the Inquisitor¡¯s actions were impressive, even admirable, in a grim way. The man¡¯s unwavering resolve and sacrifice deserved some measure of respect, regardless of how much Kayvaan disliked the Inquisition.


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°I know many of you despise the Inquisition. Even if you won¡¯t say it, I know what you think. But understand this¡ªevery single one of us bleeds for the Imperium, just as much as any soldier on the front lines. We sacrifice, endure, and give everything for the Emperor.¡±


    Kayvaan''s lips twitched, tempted to comment on her priorities¡ªhow ¡°humanity¡± seemed to be an afterthought in her speech. But he bit his tongue, instead straightening up and adopting a solemn expression. ¡°The blood of warriors will never be spilled in vain. May the Emperor bless his soul.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded curtly. ¡°The Emperor protects. The mechanical eye was recovered by our intelligence team, buried in the wreckage among blood and broken flesh. Thanks to their speed and determination, we were able to retrieve this invaluable footage in such a short time.¡±


    The term "such a short time" echoed in Elizabeth''s words, but from the moment the Inquisitor was killed to the intelligence personnel discovering the prosthetic eye, to the intel finally reaching Terra, the process had taken two full months. This meant the murder Kayvaan had just learned about actually happened two months ago. "Information from two months ago? That¡¯s practically ancient in a crisis. Eden 5 must be in real danger by now."


    "Why do you say that?" Elizabeth asked, her tone carrying both skepticism and concern.


    Kayvaan didn¡¯t hesitate. "It¡¯s a classic strategy: send elite forces to conduct targeted strikes, assassinating key intelligence operatives to paralyze or confuse the enemy¡¯s communications. Then follow up with a decisive, large-scale attack. It¡¯s an old tactic¡ªthe Raven Guard perfected it during the Great Crusade."


    She ignored Kayvaan''s reaction and pressed on. "Eden 5 is located on the Empire''s Eastern Fringe border, an area of little strategic value. The local garrison consists of the Cadian 69th Regiment from the Astra Militarum. The Eastern Fringe Command has already chosen to focus on gathering intelligence rather than deploying major reinforcements. Orders have been given for the local garrison to hold the region as best they can."


    "A battle just to gather intelligence?" Kayvaan murmured. "It¡¯s an effective method," he admitted reluctantly. "There¡¯s no room for lies or misdirection on the battlefield. A real fight exposes the truth about both sides. But still, it¡¯ll come at the cost of the Cadian 69th Regiment being wiped out. That¡¯s the Guardsman¡¯s fate, I suppose. Even Space Marines meet their end on the battlefield; regular soldiers don¡¯t stand a chance against this kind of assault. Still¡­" He hesitated. "Why sacrifice them specifically? Was it because of their number? ''69'' is a¡ªwell, never mind."


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice cut through his wandering thoughts. "We should receive updated reports by the midpoint of our journey."


    "Wait," Kayvaan said, narrowing his eyes. "You said ''we''? What do you mean by that?"


    "Exactly what I said," she replied casually. "I came here not just to share information, but to ask you to join our front. I¡¯ll be traveling on your ship."


    Kayvaan frowned. He had no interest in aligning himself with an Inquisitor¡ªit felt wrong on every level. But articulating that discomfort was another matter. "I¡­ I don¡¯t understand. Why me? Why involve me in this?"

 Chapter 46 - Planet Under His Control

    Elizabeth sighed, her voice softening. "Because I want to protect you, even if you don¡¯t realize you need it. You¡¯re still too vulnerable¡ªyour Chapter, your brothers, even your fleet are at risk. If the enemies you face ever take notice of you, though the chances of that happening are slim, they could wipe out everything you¡¯ve built overnight. And it wouldn¡¯t take much effort. Between the Eldar of Alaitoc and roving bands of Chaos pirates, your position is precarious at best. Traveling with us offers protection, as well as access to critical intelligence you¡¯ll need to make the right choices."


    Her explanation carried a note of finality, but Kayvaan couldn¡¯t suppress a bitter laugh. "And what if I¡¯m not interested in your so-called protection?"


    "Then consider it a gift," Elizabeth replied with a shrug. "Mercy, even. All you have to do is accept it humbly. For me, it¡¯s just another mission."


    Kayvaan''s face flushed red, anger boiling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched, and his posture radiated a dangerous energy, like a predator poised to strike. For a moment, Elizabeth wondered if he would lash out. But the tension drained from his body as quickly as it had built, and he let out a weary sigh. "What an infuriating truth," he muttered. He stared at the floor for a long moment before raising his gaze. "Fine. When do we leave?"


    "The fleet departs in five days," she answered simply.


    "Understood." Kayvaan stood, signaling the end of the conversation. "If that¡¯s all, I¡¯ll prepare for the journey."


    "I¡¯ll board your ship shortly before departure," Elizabeth added.


    "We¡¯ll be ready to welcome you," he replied flatly, turning on his heel and striding out of the room.


    Kayvaan passed through a series of heavily secured corridors before stepping into the bustling streets of the Lion¡¯s Gate Spaceport. This was the third sub-port, one of thirteen expansions built to accommodate the Imperium¡¯s ever-growing needs. The ancient spaceport, once a symbol of strength, now strained under the weight of modern traffic.


    He paused by a massive observation window, where the silhouette of his ship loomed against the star-filled void. Its design was unlike anything else in the fleet¡ªa ship that seemed to belong to another era entirely. It resembled a massive ancient sailing vessel, with a towering mast and enormous black sails adorned with the silver emblem of a rose. The symbol of his Chapter: the Black Rose.


    The Black Rose was the most prized asset of the Kayvaan family. It had been under the control of the family heads for generations, a symbol of their power and legacy. Named after the family emblem, the Black Rose was now Kayvaan''s to command. Compared to standard void-faring cruisers of the Imperium, the ship was relatively small. However, as an exploration vessel, it surpassed warships in every critical area¡ªspeed, endurance, and operational efficiency.


    Kayvaan navigated through the bustling port, passing multiple security checkpoints with ease. After quick scans and verification, he reached the designated docking bay. A guard clad in a finely detailed carapace uniform hurriedly saluted him, and Kayvaan returned the gesture with a casual nod before boarding the Black Rose unimpeded.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The ship¡¯s interior was nothing short of breathtaking. It bore an air of old-world majesty, resembling the gilded halls of a noble estate more than the austere confines of a voidship. Plush crimson carpets lined the deck, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and relics from forgotten ages. As Kayvaan walked the corridors, the subtle rumble of the ship¡¯s plasma drives resonated like a heartbeat beneath the hull. After taking a series of sharp turns, he arrived at the bridge.


    An elderly man with neatly groomed curls of white hair stood waiting by the bulkhead door. He exuded the poise of a veteran void-servant, a figure who seemed born for service among noble lords. The old man offered a respectful bow.


    Kayvaan acknowledged him with a nod and strode to the command throne¡ªthe bridge''s central seat of authority. Made of rich sandalwood lacquered to perfection and padded with fine furs, it left no doubt about its purpose: a throne fit for a leader of consequence. Without hesitation, Kayvaan settled into it and asked, ¡°How are the preparations for the Black Rose?¡±


    The old steward, Williameus , stepped forward, placing a steaming cup of green tea on the ornate tray beside the throne. ¡°Everything is ready, Master. The cargo and supplies were secured yesterday. The ship is prepared to depart at your order.¡±


    Kayvaan picked up the teacup, blowing gently across its surface. He took a sip, the fragrant brew filling his senses. ¡°This tea is excellent. Where is it sourced?¡±


    ¡°It hails from the mountain estates of my homeworld, Master,¡± Williameus  replied with a faint smile. ¡°Should it please you, I will ensure it remains stocked.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Kayvaan said, setting the cup aside. ¡°Now, tell me about my holdings and the previous head of the family.¡±


    Williameus  straightened, his voice carrying a note of quiet reverence. ¡°In our homeland, the previous head of the family is known as The Rose That Never Withers. Legends surround them¡ªsome claim they have lived for millennia, others whisper of eras beyond reckoning. Facts are scarce. My grandfather¡¯s grandfather entered their service as a child, yet to this day, the tales persist.¡±


    Kayvaan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Still alive? And doing what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°The previous head has withdrawn to a great fortress-palace. None are permitted to enter, and no one has glimpsed them in living memory. Yet, instructions are delivered monthly, without fail, from a single high window.¡±


    ¡°You have never been inside?¡±


    ¡°No one has, Master,¡± Williameus  replied solemnly. ¡°Even I, as chief steward, have never looked upon their face.¡±


    Kayvaan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The air of secrecy clung like smoke. ¡°Unusual... but let¡¯s move on. What of my territory?¡±


    Williameus  nodded and retrieved a data-slate from a nearby cogitator terminal. He flicked it on, scanning its contents before speaking. ¡°Master, your domain spans three star systems and eighteen planets. All, in principle, bend to your will and owe you fealty.¡±


    ¡°Spare me the ceremony. Just the key points.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± Williameus  said, scrolling quickly. ¡°You have one forge world, an agri-world, a hive world, a feudal world, two feral-class worlds, and twelve death worlds.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Death worlds? Explain.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Within the Imperium, each planet is classified based on human viability. Death worlds are those where survival is near impossible. They include planets dominated by predatory flora and fauna, others plagued with endless volcanic upheavals, plasma storms, or atmospheres toxic to the unprotected. Some are frozen spheres locked far from their stars.¡±


    ¡°And the forge world?¡±


    ¡°A forge world is a factory-world dedicated to the Omnissiah¡¯s sacred industry. The forge world in your system, designated Ferrum 3, orbits the Reach star. It is compact¡ªcloser in scale to a moon¡ªbut its manufactorums can sustain entire regiments with arms and wargear.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Kayvaan said, leaning back into the throne. ¡°Continue.¡±

 Chapter 47 - Dangerous thought

    The agricultural world, a planet with 85% of its surface dedicated to cultivated land, aquaculture farms, and livestock operations, stretched endlessly beneath the stars. Only a handful of sprawling cities broke the monotony of the vast plains, with most of the population scattered across countless rural settlements. The purpose of this world was singular¡ªagriculture. Though the agri-world known as Agron Reach, now under Kayvaan''s dominion, was not yet fully optimized, it still produced enough sustenance to feed the forge world and the sprawling hive population of his civilized world.


    The civilized world was among the Imperium''s broadest classifications for human-inhabited planets. Self-sustaining and technologically stable, such worlds often served as vital hubs of trade, governance, and culture. In Kayvaan''s case, his civilized world could even be mistaken for a garden world, owing to its fertile lands and pristine landscapes.


    Kayvaan glanced at Williameus. ¡°Tell me about the feudal world and the barbaric worlds,¡± Kayvaan said thoughtfully. ¡°Why do feudal worlds persist at all?¡±


    ¡°A feudal world,¡± Williameus  began with patient clarity, ¡°is a planet where technology has stagnated, rarely advancing beyond black powder. These worlds often possess rigid hierarchies and entrenched traditions. Most inhabitants are descended from ancient colonists of the Dark Age of Technology. When the warp storms ravaged the galaxy, many isolated human outposts regressed¡ªsome maintaining feudal kingdoms, while others fell back to the Iron Age or even earlier.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded slowly, considering the explanation. ¡°And the barbaric worlds?¡±


    ¡°They are more primitive still, Master,¡± Williameus  replied. ¡°Barbaric worlds lack black powder entirely, their people reduced to pre-industrial or even pre-metalworking societies. Life on such planets is harsh, often defined by endless tribal warfare and survival against hostile environments. In your holdings, you control one feudal world and two barbaric worlds, all located in the Eridanus Expanse. Your forge world, agri-world, and hive world are in the Acheron Reach. Finally, the Nivalis Abyss is home to nine death worlds.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned slightly, eyes scanning the star map spread out before him. The regions under his control were clearly defined. The Acheron Reach was the backbone of his domain¡ªits developed worlds formed a stable foundation for his ambitions. Eridanus Expanse, on the other hand, remained neglected, its inhabitants trapped in medieval stagnation. The Nivalis Abyss was different: a wasteland of hostile death worlds, harsh and unyielding.


    Kayvaan tapped the map with a gloved finger. ¡°The Inquisition may find such places useful,¡± he muttered. ¡°I wonder if the woman would agree to such an arrangement. Not that it makes much difference if she refuses.¡±


    Pushing those musings aside, Kayvaan straightened. ¡°I have a general understanding of my domains now. When time allows, I¡¯ll visit each of these planets myself. For the moment, prepare the captain¡¯s cabin. I will be hosting some distinguished guests.¡±


    Williameus ¡¯s pale brows arched slightly in curiosity. ¡°Distinguished guests, sir? May I know their identities to make the appropriate arrangements?¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°No need for extravagance,¡± Kayvaan replied, exhaling tiredly. ¡°Keep it simple. A female inquisitor from the Inquisition is arriving, but fanatics care little for such trivialities.¡±


    At the mention of the Inquisition, Williameus  stiffened visibly but quickly regained his composure. ¡°Understood, Master. Shall I ensure the cabin is spartan, yet reverent? Perhaps include a shrine to the God-Emperor?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re always thorough,¡± Kayvaan said, allowing himself a faint smile. ¡°Proceed.¡±


    With a respectful bow, Williameus  turned to carry out the orders. Kayvaan picked up his cooling teacup, the warmth lingering as he took another sip. His thoughts drifted, as they often did¡ªa habitual exercise of reviewing decisions, weighing opportunities against risks, and looking to the future.


    Nearly two months had passed since Darius, in a drunken stupor, uttered those treasonous words. By the following morning, Kayvaan had urged him to depart for Mars and undergo augmentation surgery in the holy manufactoria of the Mechanicus. A month later, the flagship of the Knights Templar fleet¡ªthe Ebony Shadow¡ªcompleted its ritual refit. Its medical facilities had been transferred aboard, its crew assigned: captains, voidsmen, and star-chart navigators, all in service to duty.


    Three weeks after that, Kayvaan''s personal voidship docked at Lion¡¯s Gate Spaceport on Terra. There, Williameus  handled the labyrinthine formalities of recognition on Kayvaan¡¯s behalf. Gene-scans, parchment work, and ancient protocols were observed with ritualistic precision, and by the day¡¯s end, Kayvaan was confirmed as the head of the Kayvaan family.


    Kayvaan had considered departing immediately, but the rotten state of the Imperium gnawed at him. Between Darius¡¯s drunken confessions and his own observations, his contempt for Terra¡¯s decadent political web had deepened. He loathed its suffocating bureaucracy, its blind adherence to tradition. The world he had known in his previous life¡ªthough flawed¡ªhad offered far more freedom. At least there, one could live quietly if they stayed out of trouble.


    Kayvaan''s idea was a crime. It might have been a secret buried deep in his heart, never spoken aloud or acted upon, but even the act of entertaining such thoughts was, in itself, a crime¡ªa thought crime. From the Inquisition¡¯s perspective, Kayvaan was already guilty. As Darius once said, you could hide such sins in your mind for a time, but you couldn¡¯t bury them forever. Thoughts had a way of festering, and the Inquisition always found them.


    What made matters worse was that Kayvaan wasn¡¯t an ordinary man. He had traveled across the boundaries of time and space, and if that secret were ever uncovered, the Inquisition would declare him a heretic or burn him alive as a witchspawn. The Inquisition did not forgive, nor did it forget.


    Resentment boiled in his chest, but Kayvaan knew he couldn¡¯t fight back. He wasn¡¯t some naive idealist chasing lofty visions of justice. Every world was steeped in its own brand of unfairness, and most learned to ignore it. It wasn¡¯t worth losing everything. If he could not defy them, he had no choice but to hide.


    He had considered fleeing¡ªto the Eastern Fringe. The Imperium¡¯s reach was weakest there, beyond the Astronomican¡¯s guiding light. In those distant and uncharted regions of space, beyond the Emperor¡¯s will, perhaps he could find a measure of peace. But fate rarely allowed such reprieve.


    When the Inquisition summoned him to accompany them, it was as though the stars themselves had fallen. Refusal was not an option, and worse still, he was ordered to serve flawlessly under a woman whose presence weighed like a stormcloud. It was a curse¡ªan omen of doom.


    Rubbing his temples, Kayvaan pushed back his frustration. He wasn¡¯t searching for glory or revolution. He wanted only a simpler existence, free from the grinding chaos of this life.

 Chapter 48 - Power as Governor

    Eldrad Ulthran awoke abruptly, his trance shattered by a vision carried on the psychic winds from the Eastern Fringe. The faint threads of the immaterium whispered an omen¡ªa distant cry that tugged at his consciousness.


    For most, it would have gone unnoticed. But Eldrad was no ordinary seer. As the High Farseer of Ulthw¨¦, leader of the Seer Council, and one of the greatest prophets the Eldar race had ever known, such burdens were his alone to bear. The galaxy was a cruel and uncaring place, where suffering was the norm and peace was fleeting, a fading ember in a storm.


    Still, it had been a shame to lose that dream. Strictly speaking, it had not been a dream at all. Eldar did not dream. Their minds were too disciplined, their souls guarded against the turmoil of the warp. For a farseer, to dream was to falter¡ªa lapse that could bring ruin. Such failures were rare, yet always carried meaning.


    In deep meditation, Eldrad had glimpsed a memory buried within the infinity circuit¡ªa fragment of the Eldar¡¯s lost golden age.


    In that era, the gods still walked among them, and the Eldar ruled the stars unchallenged. Worlds bloomed under their care, and the galaxy itself seemed to bow to their will. With but a thought, they could shape barren rocks into lush paradises, breathe color into lifeless skies, or dim distant stars as though they were lanterns. The sun worshipped by humanity was little more than a grain of sand to the Eldar of that time. Eldrad could almost feel it¡ªthe hum of boundless life energy, the taste of honeyed wine, the chorus of laughter ringing from pearl towers. It was beauty incarnate.


    Then, the vision darkened. The laughter twisted into anguished screams. The sweetness turned to blood, pouring from shattered amphorae. In his mind¡¯s eye, a two-headed eagle, stained crimson, unfurled its wings and stretched its claws toward the Eastern Fringe.


    The sword of Khaine¡ªan icon of the Eldar¡¯s war god¡ªshattered beneath a blood-red moon. The tears of the eagle ran like rivers of blood. And then, the sigil appeared: a sinister purple mark that burned in the shadows. The symbol of Slaanesh¡ªShe Who Thirsts. A full purple moon, bracketed by two crescent shapes, glowed with malevolence.


    The meaning was clear. A cataclysm was coming to the Eastern Fringe. The two-headed eagle was the Imperium of Man, and the shattered sword foretold doom for the Alaitoc Craftworld, often known as the Clan of the Eagle Eyes. Blood would stain the stars, and Slaanesh would strike in the chaos.


    For a moment, Eldrad¡¯s thoughts turned to intervention. But he stilled himself. The path of prophecy demanded patience. Acting before the time was ripe could prove disastrous. The powers of Chaos were cunning, lurking in the void beyond sight, and a premature move could doom everything.


    Taking a deep breath, Eldrad calmed his mind, letting the echoes of the vision fade. Such was the burden of the farseer¡¯s path¡ªto walk the knife¡¯s edge of destiny, forever seeing calamity yet unable to act until the moment was right. The omens were clear, but the finer details remained cloaked in shadow. For now, all he could do was wait.


    Meanwhile more pressing matters loomed closer to the Imperium¡¯s core. Compared to the veiled conspiracies festering in the Eastern Fringe, the chaos erupting in the Eye of Terror was far more dire. Abaddon¡¯s forces were assembling a vast fleet of warships, and the unsettling movements of the Black Legion hinted at a growing war. An evil god, perhaps even the Despoiler himself, seemed to be preparing another incursion. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Five Terran days later, a vast fleet comprising thirteen ships departed from Lion''s Gate Spaceport, gliding steadily into the cold void. Among them were the Ebony Shadows and Black Wings, both part of Kayvaan¡¯s flotilla, as well as the Black Rose under Kayvaan¡¯s direct command. The rest included three chartist freighters leased to the Sisters of Battle and six mighty voidships painted in blinding white, their hulls emblazoned with fleur-de-lis¡ªmarks of the Adepta Sororitas.


    ¡°Power up the Ebony Shadows and have it follow. Disengage moorings and make sail,¡± Kayvaan ordered from the bridge of the Black Rose. The two ships released their anchor clamps, thrusters engaging as they joined the larger convoy.


    The Sisters of Battle were legends in their own right. Fanatical warriors of the Emperor, their name alone was enough to ensure that no vessel dared challenge the convoy, even within the crowded shipping lanes of Sol. Though their fervent presence brought an air of oppression, it also promised an untroubled passage.


    The fleet moved steadily away from Lion¡¯s Gate, accelerating toward the outer rim of the solar system. Once past Pluto, they would begin the next phase of the journey¡ªa delicate and arduous process taking an entire Terran week.


    Once clear of Sol, the fleet would converge at a known warp transit point¡ªa weakened boundary in the fabric of reality. There, under the guidance of navigators, the ships would engage their warp drives, tearing through the Immaterium to emerge thousands of light-years away. This treacherous journey would take one to two weeks before the convoy stabilized in realspace, where it might pause briefly at an outpost to resupply before continuing.


    This method of void travel, known as a guided warp jump, was standard for long-range expeditions. It demanded coordination and immense patience. Navigating the Warp was fraught with peril¡ªan error could send a ship drifting forever or worse, into the jaws of daemons. To reach the distant Eastern Fringe, the fleet would repeat this process three or four times.


    Despite the voyage¡¯s daunting length, the greatest delay came not from the Warp itself, but from the slow process of accelerating out of one system and decelerating into another. Jumping within a star system was tantamount to suicide¡ªstars, planets, and other gravitational anomalies rendered such calculations near impossible. The best-case outcome of such folly was to vanish without a trace; the worst was to be torn apart by the roaring tides of the Warp before even breaching its boundaries.


    Shortly after departure, the Black Rose and Ebony Shadows linked via an external docking tube, the structure resembling a lifeline between them. A temporary corridor connected the two ships, though Kayvaan rarely left his beloved Black Rose. Once an exploration vessel, it had been reforged into a noble void-yacht, replete with ornate kitchens, heated washrooms, and a grand library filled with ancient tomes. Life aboard was as refined as any planetary estate, and Kayvaan had no intention of relinquishing such comfort.


    Most of his days were spent with Williameus , the ever-dutiful steward. Together, they reviewed the holdings of the Kayvaan family, the sprawling systems now under his rule. Williameus  offered a wealth of insight, while Kayvaan adapted quickly to the staggering responsibilities of an Imperial governor. The weight of it all was daunting, yet exhilarating.


    To Kayvaan¡¯s surprise, being a planetary governor offered remarkable freedom. The Imperium demanded only one thing: tithes. Beyond that, the affairs of a governor were rarely scrutinized. A ruler could plunge their subjects into despair, grind them into servitude, or raise them to prosperity. So long as the Imperial Tithe was paid, none would interfere.


    It was an intoxicating power, one that left Kayvaan both awed and wary. Taking a slow sip of green tea, he exhaled deeply. ¡°No wonder so many envy the aristocracy. Who wouldn¡¯t want this kind of power? And now, here I am.¡±

 Chapter 49 - Elizabeths Mission

    Williameus offered a small, knowing smile. ¡°It gets better, Master. The Kayvaan family¡¯s holdings are far beyond the reach of direct Imperial control. The tithes we pay are symbolic at best. Compared to nobles dwelling in the Segmentum Solar, our wealth is considerable.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s gaze darkened thoughtfully. ¡°That explains it. There¡¯s no way anyone would willingly settle this far from Terra without some incentive. How much of the family¡¯s fortune do I control now?¡±


    Williameus  lowered his head and mumbled a number under his breath.


    ¡°What?¡± Kayvaan froze for a moment, staring in disbelief. But he quickly snapped out of it, his face turning red with anger. He shot to his feet, shouting, ¡°That¡¯s all?! With just this little bit, you still think the Kayvaan family can be counted as one of the wealthiest? What can you even do with that amount? It¡¯s not even enough to buy a hab on Terra!¡±


    Williameus  sighed, realizing he had to tread carefully. He began explaining in a calm and clear manner, leaving no room for misunderstanding.


    To put it simply, the Kayvaan family had always maintained a unique but pragmatic approach to wealth, a mindset that persisted through generations. Unlike most noble houses, who often stockpiled their fortunes in hidden vaults, the Kayvaan dynasty believed that wealth only served a purpose when used. The principle was straightforward: idle treasure is dead treasure. It cannot feed armies, clothe citizens, or even power a single ship. Its role is to flow¡ªinvested and spent to build something greater.


    This doctrine shaped every decision made by the dynasty. The previous governor, adhering to this tradition, saw gold not as a symbol of status but as a means to uplift the dynasty¡¯s holdings. Hoarding riches in vaults full of Thrones and plundered relics was wasteful in his eyes, a barbaric relic of lesser minds. Instead, he funneled everything into progress. Of course, what others called spending, he called investing.


    Kayvaan took a deep breath. He couldn¡¯t deny his own understanding of finance was as shallow as a water basin. In his eyes, wealth was about stacks of Thrones glittering before him, the sheer joy of counting them in silence. He still saw economics as a strange mix of trickery and sophistry. But Kayvaan was no fool. With a sigh of resignation, he muttered, ¡°Fine. Then tell me, what exactly did my ancestors spend it all on?¡±


    Williameus  answered without hesitation. ¡°Most of it went into the reclamation of Reach. The undertaking spanned millennia¡ªan immense effort given our dynasty¡¯s stretched resources. Nine thousand years ago, Reach wasn¡¯t much more than a death world¡ªbarely fit for a penal colony. Its thin atmosphere meant anyone stepping outside needed full void-rated suits, or they¡¯d suffocate in seconds.¡±


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes, listening intently. The reclamation of Reach was no legend¡ªit was fact. Once, Reach had been a lifeless rock, devoid of even bacterial life. Its jagged terrain, wind-worn and unyielding, stretched under a sky choked in dust storms. By day, temperatures soared past 800 degrees Celsius, enough to warp iron. By night, they plunged to minus 40, a cold capable of freezing coolant lines solid.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Survival had been unthinkable. In those early years, Kayvaan¡¯s ancestors must have been half-mad. Yet through stubborn defiance and toil, they began to shape the impossible.


    Today, Reach is a jewel among Imperial holdings. No longer a tomb world. Skies of perfect blue stretch above green meadows and thriving cities. Rivers of pure water wind through valleys, feeding crops that sway in warm breezes. Every vista, every stone, speaks of careful craftsmanship¡ªa vision brought to life. Reach is now the kind of paradise chronicled in pilgrim dreams, a garden world wrenched from oblivion.


    The cost? Beyond comprehension. Transforming Reach devoured resources that could have raised a dozen hive worlds or built a thousand voidships. Thrones spent on its reclamation would stagger even the wealthiest Forge Lords. It was a labor as vast as the Emperor¡¯s own Great Crusade.


    Kayvaan shook his head, torn between awe and disbelief. ¡°They truly spent that much? It¡¯s hard to imagine, but... they did it. I¡¯ll give them that. Fine. The money¡¯s gone. Now tell me, what about our defenses? What¡¯s the state of the Ferrum sector?¡±


    Williameus  inclined his head, ready. ¡°Reach has its planetary Governor¡¯s Guard stationed across major cities, alongside a defense fleet in low orbit. The fleet consists of twelve warships and escort squadrons, but they are limited to void operations within the system. These are not Astartes cruisers¡ªnor even fleet-grade vessels¡ªbut they¡¯ll suffice to keep the system intact for now.¡±


    The Reach Fleet was no ordinary fleet. Its ships, equipped with highly coveted warp drives, had the ability to ¡°jump¡± across vast interstellar distances¡ªa feat essential for navigating the star sea. However, such technology came at a heavy price. The Imperium maintained iron-fisted control over warp-capable vessels, with every ship meticulously registered through the Adeptus Administratum. Acquiring a warp-capable warship was no small task, even for powerful planetary governors or noble consuls. Due to these limitations, most governors settled for warships restricted to void operations within a single sector or system for their planetary defense forces.


    ¡°Twelve battleships!¡± Kayvaan muttered, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. That was more than he had anticipated. ¡°Tell me about my fleet. Do they answer to me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord. The Reach Fleet sails at your command,¡± replied the officer with a crisp nod.


    Kayvaan was still learning the finer details of his domain, gaining insight through these conversations. It wasn¡¯t wasted effort, though. After studying imperial protocols and his vast responsibilities, he frequently visited the flagship Ebony Shadows. But most of Kayvaan¡¯s time was spent in the training chambers, sharpening his physique. He drilled the basics relentlessly¡ªboxing techniques and combat stances¡ªfocusing on the subtle precision of his movements, awaiting the day when he would return to the battlefield.


    A month slipped by quickly. During that time, the fleet completed three warp jumps and finally arrived in the Eastern Fringe of the Imperium. It was then that Elizabeth emerged from her quarters for the first time since the voyage began. Without preamble, she strode into the study aboard the Black Rose, where Kayvaan sat immersed in reading. ¡°Elizabeth,¡± Kayvaan greeted, looking up from his dataslate. ¡°What brings you here?¡±


    ¡°Now that we¡¯ve reached the Eastern Fringe, I wanted to inform you that the fleet will disband soon,¡± she stated plainly.


    ¡°Disband?¡± Kayvaan raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his face.


    Elizabeth nodded. ¡°Yes. To counter Eldar infiltration, the Adepta Sororitas will establish three permanent monastry here, along with a hidden bastion. Once we land, the fleet will disperse. Our mission involves creating these footholds and launching an assault on Eden V. This will force the Eldar¡¯s attention, buying time for our agents to gather intelligence.¡±


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t this be classified? Why tell me?¡±


    ¡°Who said I was telling the truth?¡± Elizabeth replied with a smirk, leaving him unsure whether she was joking.

 Chapter 50 - The Previous Governor

    The Inquisition had secured permission to establish three monasteries on Reach. These facilities, while appearing as bastions of piety, served dual purposes¡ªhousing orphans and training reserves for the Adepta Sororitas. According to tradition, once the girls reached sixteen, they would be sent to Nivalis 3, the world governed by Canoness Elizabeth, for further training. It was a grim but structured fate: a method to replenish the Sororitas ranks while instilling discipline and faith into the young. Whether the orphans considered it salvation or damnation was uncertain, but Kayvaan saw no reason to refuse.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Kayvaan said, raising his hands in mock surrender. ¡°So, what do you need from me?¡±


    ¡°A planet,¡± she replied bluntly. ¡°Any one will do, as long as it¡¯s unlikely to draw attention.¡±


    Kayvaan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. ¡°That¡¯s... vague. You¡¯re sure any planet will work?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Among your holdings, the Nivalis Abyss system caught my attention. Specifically, Nivalis III.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned, uncertain whether to laugh or argue. ¡°You do realize all nine planets in Nivalis are death worlds, right? Nivalis III might have breathable air, but the surface is smothered in sprawling rainforests. The trees blot out the sky, and the predators lurking there make Catachan seem tame. It¡¯s a nightmare¡ªten times worse than any Jurassic horror story. No settlements. No infrastructure. Completely unsuitable for habitation.¡±


    Elizabeth remained unfazed. ¡°The Sororitas do not seek comfort. We are the Emperor¡¯s warriors. A harsh environment strengthens our faith. Besides, establishing a war convent on a populated planet would invite unnecessary complications.¡±


    Kayvaan studied her for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. ¡°Fine. If that¡¯s what you want, Nivalis III is yours.¡±


    Though unsettled by the choice, Kayvaan couldn¡¯t deny the appeal of having Elizabeth and her zealous Sororitas far from his immediate vicinity. The conversation turned to formal negotiations. Both were efficient, wasting no time on empty pleasantries. Elizabeth¡¯s request came with unspoken obligations. As an Imperial governor, Kayvaan was bound to the Imperium¡¯s laws and expectations¡ªexpectations he dared not defy.


    First, psykers within his territory had to be closely monitored. When the Black Ships of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica arrived, all unregistered psykers had to be surrendered without hesitation. Failure to do so meant the governor¡¯s personal responsibility to root out and destroy them.


    Second, his planets were expected to wage war unconditionally against any foe declared heretic, xenos, or traitor by the High Lords of Terra. Surrender was not an option under Imperial law.


    The fleet forged steadily onward. In time, only three ships remained: Kayvaan¡¯s flagship, the Black Rose; the Ebony Shadows, once a paragon of the Knights Templar but now a shadow of its former self; and the Flame of Justice, heralding the Sisters¡¯ devotion. Together, they arrived at Aion, a border bastion of the Imperium.


    The fleet lingered briefly in Aion¡¯s orbit for rest and final resupply. This would be their last respite before the perilous route ahead. Without the Astronomican¡¯s light to guide them, long jumps through the warp were suicidal. Only short, methodical leaps of 4 to 5 light-years were safe. Beyond Imperial space, the warp was an unstable and roiling sea where tides and storms could devour entire fleets.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The journey was sluggish, like marching through mire rather than sprinting on open ground. After four arduous jumps, Kayvaan¡¯s fleet reached its destination. Through the viewport, the Reach stars shimmered like the distant embers of a dying fire. It was the 40th Millennium, in the chill of its endless autumn, and Kayvaan had returned to his homeland after nine thousand long and silent years.


    A fleet of twelve warships awaited beyond the Reach system, a ceremonial guard honoring his arrival. Ancient customs dictated the Black Rose fire a salute¡ªsilent plumes of color burst in the void, resembling distant explosions frozen in space. The escort ships fell into formation seamlessly, becoming a part of Kayvaan¡¯s vanguard.


    The bridge vox crackled to life. A servitor chimed an incoming connection, and moments later, the hololith flickered, revealing an older man with a neatly trimmed mustache. Twisting its end between his fingers with habitual ease, the man inclined his head. "Admiral Tiberion Dravak of the Reach Sector Fleet," he greeted with practiced reverence. "On behalf of Reach, we welcome you, Lord Governor. Welcome home."


    The transition of power was unfolding with a smoothness Kayvaan found suspicious. He had anticipated resistance. After all, a position of this magnitude¡ªrule over three entire sectors¡ªinvited both admiration and envy. Such power elevated a man beyond kings and lords. He was a governor in name, but in practice, he now wielded influence akin to a god.


    And yet, it was a god seated on a fragile throne. Terra had proven that even minor posts within the Imperium sparked rivalry, treachery, and bloodshed. A governorship of this scale seemed to Kayvaan an irresistible lure for ambition and betrayal. "How simple it would be," he mused darkly, "to bury a knife in my back and seize my throne."


    Jacob, Kayvaan¡¯s chief advisor, had dismissed his fears earlier. ¡°They could kill you,¡± he admitted, ¡°but they would accomplish nothing. The Imperium itself stands behind your authority. Should anyone rebel, they would face a retribution so total it would erase their legacy from history,¡± Jacob continued, ¡°and no single system or coalition of worlds would dare stand against them. Only fools would entertain such treason.¡±


    ¡°Ambition often devours reason,¡± Kayvaan countered.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Jacob conceded, ¡°but I believe your worries are unwarranted. This appointment came willingly from the Reach¡¯s previous governor. The man personally petitioned the Segmentum Lords the moment he heard of your resurrection. I suspect his reasons will become clear when you meet him.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pity,¡± Kayvaan muttered, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. He didn¡¯t bother concealing his disappointment. Deep down, he had hoped for rebellion or conspiracy, something to sink his teeth into. He even welcomed the idea with quiet anticipation. Whatever arose, he had faith in his ability to crush it.


    Under the fleet¡¯s watchful escort, Kayvaan landed at Aquila Landing. The sprawling facility had been locked down for his arrival. Soon, he stepped onto Reach soil. A grand reception awaited him, followed by an elaborate three-day ceremony that unfolded like a flawless ritual.


    For those three days, Kayvaan felt like an automaton, trapped in a carefully orchestrated performance. His butler and an entourage of adept officials ensured every detail was exact, leaving no room for misstep. When it ended, Kayvaan held the governor¡¯s scepter¡ªa cold symbol of absolute authority¡ªand received oaths of loyalty from the planet¡¯s most powerful figures. If rebellion had been an option, its moment had passed. The transfer was complete.


    Two days after his inauguration, a message arrived: the former governor extended an invitation to a palace no one else had ever seen. At last, the mysteries surrounding the transition might reveal themselves. A knock came at the door¡ªsteady and deliberate. The rhythm carried a practiced restraint, reflecting the discipline of a veteran retainer.


    Kayvaan glanced up from the dataslates he had been reviewing and set them aside. Taking a measured sip of recaf, he said, ¡°Enter.¡±

 Chapter 51 - The Chief Steward

    Williameus , his chief steward, stepped in, clad in a crisply maintained black uniform. With a subtle gesture, he dismissed the other attendants. Once the door clicked shut, he approached and spoke with respectful calm. ¡°My lord, everything is prepared. Please follow me.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded, unsurprised. He set his cup down, rose, and followed Williameus . The Governor¡¯s Mansion was a vast maze of gothic corridors and chambers. Though Kayvaan had dwelled there for days, its sprawling expanse could still confuse even the sharpest mind. Williameus  led him down silent hallways before stopping at a study. The butler pushed against an ancient bookcase, revealing a passage hidden in the wall.


    They descended a staircase of cold stone, the air growing heavier with each step. The journey continued through dim corridors until they reached an elevator. It shuddered faintly as they began to descend, the hum reverberating through the shaft for what felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened, they were greeted by shadows.


    Williameus  stepped out first, activating a lumen. The faint beam flickered as the silence stretched. A loud click rang out, and rows of overhead lights buzzed to life, illuminating an underground cavern large enough to house an Imperial cathedral. Kayvaan¡¯s eyes fell upon the structure dominating the center¡ªa massive, armored train, its hull lined with ornate Gothic detailing. ¡°A subterranean transit system?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Williameus  said, bowing slightly. ¡°This leads to the former governor. He waits for you beyond.¡± With reverence, he stepped to the side, opening the carriage door. ¡°Please, my lord.¡±


    Kayvaan boarded without hesitation. The interior was lavish, a striking contrast to the stark machinery outside. Plush seating, a stocked amasec cabinet, and shelves of leather-bound tomes made the carriage feel more like a noble¡¯s private lounge than a military transport.


    Walking to the cabinet, Kayvaan selected a bottle of aged amasec. He poured a glass and sampled it with an appreciative hum before drifting toward the bookcase. Pulling a tome at random, he settled into the velvet couch, stretching his legs as the train door hissed shut.


    The train jolted softly, gliding into the depths of the tunnel. It was a solitary journey. Not even Williameus  accompanied him, and the low hum of the engine was the only sound in the abyss. The train burrowed ever deeper beneath Reach, the distance beyond measure.


    Kayvaan, unperturbed, savored the silence. Fear had no hold on him. Though he no longer bore the title of Astartes, the instincts of a warrior endured. Instead of unease, the journey calmed him. He sipped his drink, let the book occupy his mind, and eventually dozed off to the gentle sway of the train.


    When he awoke, hours or minutes later, the train had halted. The door stood open, and beyond it, a dimly lit platform awaited him. Kayvaan stepped off the platform and stood before a massive golden arch towering above him. Its grandeur shimmered with a faint, inviting glow. Without hesitation, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.


    The space beyond was vast¡ªso large it could easily fit a Thunderhawk gunship. Half the room was dominated by an enormous machine, its structure intricate and overwhelming. Thick, black cables coiled around the machinery like veins, pulsing with dim, crimson flashes of light. The faint, rhythmic sound of steam hissing added an eerie pulse to the room¡¯s atmosphere.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Kayvaan, you¡¯re finally here.¡± A voice echoed from every corner, deep and resonant. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like an eternity. Time has drifted us, but I always believed we¡¯d meet again. You¡¯ve never been one to break a promise. Still¡­ it¡¯s been so long. Long enough for me to forget so much.¡±


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes and scanned the dimly lit room. The giant machine cast complex shadows, creating countless places for someone¡ªor something¡ªto hide. His voice was steady but edged with curiosity. ¡°Where are you? Why don¡¯t you show yourself?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right in front of you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Kayvaan''s gaze sharpened, flicking between the gaps in the cables and adamantium framework. ¡°Then why can¡¯t I see you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already seen me. You just haven¡¯t realized it yet.¡± The voice surrounded him again, a stereo-like presence that seemed to come from the very walls.


    Before Kayvaan could reply, the enormous machine roared to life. Steam vents hissed violently, filling the room with a dense, white fog. Metallic groans reverberated as the machinery shifted and moved. Cables twisted like serpents, and mechanical arms emerged from the machine¡¯s depths, locking onto the floor or embedding themselves into the walls. Sparks flew from exposed joints, dancing like tiny fireflies in the mist.


    The mechanical chaos slowly subsided, and the crimson flashes faded. In their place, white lumen strips flickered on, illuminating the room with a cold brilliance. As the steam cleared, Kayvaan''s eyes locked onto something that made him freeze¡ªa face.


    It wasn¡¯t human. A metallic visage emerged from the heart of the machine, its surface gleaming under the lumen light. Crimson, glowing eyes peered back at him, their gaze unyielding. The face, although mechanical, had features eerily reminiscent of a woman. Beneath it, there was no body¡ªno neck, no torso. Instead, a chaotic network of tubes and cables extended from where the neck should have been, embedding the head into the massive machine.


    ¡°Hello, Kayvaan Shrike,¡± the metallic face greeted him. Its voice carried a strange mix of familiarity and artificial resonance. The corners of its mouth twitched upward, forming what could only be described as a mechanical smile.


    Kayvaan stared in disbelief, his brows knitting into a frown. ¡°Who¡­ who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m human,¡± the mechanical face replied, its tone heavy with something almost like sorrow. ¡°At least, I used to be. Now? I¡¯m not so sure anymore. Oh, Kayvaan, you were always so fortunate¡ªblessed with the gift of the Astartes, a body unyielding against time. Time doesn¡¯t leave scars on you. But me? I was mortal. I had a name, a legacy, perhaps a little more courage and wit than most. But what did that matter in the shadow of eternity? This is what remains.¡±


    Kayvaan''s eyes narrowed as his twin hearts began to race. ¡°Who exactly are you?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t recognize me?¡± The mechanical voice held a faint note of amusement. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair. Ten thousand years is a long time. But I remember you, Kayvaan. I¡¯ve always remembered. It¡¯s me. Valyra.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°Va¡­ Valyra?!¡± His voice cracked as he staggered back, uncharacteristically shaken. Panic surged through him like an electric shock.


    Even in the face of war¡ªagainst Ork WAAAGHs, towering Titans, or the deadliest of Traitor Legions¡ªKayvaan had always remained calm. He¡¯d stood unflinching before death itself, his spirit unyielding. But now? Now, he felt something foreign and terrifying: fear. ¡°This can¡¯t be,¡± he stammered, his voice trembling despite his effort to control it. ¡°Valyra Shrike? That¡¯s impossible. It¡¯s been ten thousand years! You can¡¯t still be alive!¡±


    ¡°But I am. Though ¡®alive¡¯ might not be the right word for what this is. I¡¯m here, Kayvaan. My body is gone, but what remains of me persists.¡±

 Chapter 52 - Valyra

    Kayvaan''s mind reeled as fragments of forgotten memories clawed their way to the surface. Valyra. The name felt like a distant echo from a life he¡¯d long since buried. She had once been his kin¡ªa sister from a world long gone. ¡°What happened to you?¡± His voice cracked with disbelief, tinged with desperation.


    Valyra¡¯s mechanical face softened¡ªat least, as much as it could. ¡°It¡¯s a long story, brother. But we have all the time in the world now. Do you remember what you said to me before you left?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Kayvaan faltered, his mind blank. Ten millennia of war and hardship had erased so much. His childhood memories were shadows at best, buried beneath layers of bloodshed and loss.


    ¡°Have you forgotten? It¡¯s no surprise if you have¡ªit¡¯s been nine thousand years, after all. But I remember it clearly.¡± Valyra¡¯s voice carried both warmth and bitterness. ¡°They say when people grow old, they live in their memories. Maybe that¡¯s true. But there are some things I can¡¯t forget, no matter how much I want to.


    "That day, you prepared to leave. I was the one who caught you. I stood at the door and wouldn¡¯t let you pass. You smiled, ruffled my hair, and said, ¡®I¡¯ll come back for you. The house is yours until then.¡¯¡± Her voice faltered before continuing. ¡°I can still feel that warmth on my head, like it just happened yesterday. You told me to wait for you¡ªthat¡¯s what you said.¡±


    Kayvaan felt a strange, heavy pang in his chest as he listened. His mind painted an image of the past¡ªa little girl, small and fragile, standing barefoot under a pale, indifferent sky. Her thin clothes did nothing against the chill, but she stayed outside, stubborn, her tiny hand gripping the edge of his sleeve. ¡°Can¡¯t you just stay?¡± her small voice asked.


    The young man looked to the stars, his gaze distant, filled with a longing for something far beyond their small home. He shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to go, big brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving forever,¡± he assured her, crouching to meet her tearful eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll come back, I promise. But until then, the house is yours to watch over. Can you do that for me?¡±


    The girl hesitated, sniffling before nodding. ¡°I¡¯ll protect it until you come back, big brother.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s a promise,¡± he said, holding out his fist.


    The little girl lifted her own and tapped it against his. ¡°It¡¯s a promise.¡±


    Kayvaan blinked back to the present, his eyes resting on the mechanical face before him. Guilt twisted uncomfortably in his chest. But it wasn¡¯t his guilt to bear, was it? He hadn¡¯t been the one who left his little sister to fend for herself for nine thousand years. Yet a voice within whispered otherwise ¡®You carry his name, his body, and his honor. That means his debts are yours as well.¡¯


    Kayvaan took a deep breath, the weight of the name pressing on his shoulders. After a long pause, he exhaled heavily, his resolve clear. ¡°I¡¯ve fought in countless wars, faced horrors and death for causes greater than I understood. But those are excuses. I forgot the promise I made. I broke my word.¡± He looked up, meeting Valyra¡¯s glowing eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Valyra replied, her voice free of resentment. Her metallic eyelids lowered briefly, a faint shimmer passing through them. ¡°You came back. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    The tenderness in her words struck something deep within Kayvaan, and for a moment, he nearly let his emotions overtake him. He forced a faint, rueful smile. ¡°How have you managed all this time?¡± he asked quietly.


    ¡°What choice did I have?¡± Valyra¡¯s tone was soft, almost fragile. ¡°After you left, the family faced... challenges. I took over, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Later, I found I couldn¡¯t have children. Without an heir, the family¡¯s purpose was at risk. Adoption wasn¡¯t an option. So I turned to other means to ensure we endured.¡± Her voice faltered, then steadied. ¡°At first, I clung to hope you¡¯d return soon. But as years turned to centuries, hope became anger. Then exhaustion.¡±


    ¡°Why push yourself so far?¡± Kayvaan asked, his gaze shifting to the enormous machine that encased her. ¡°The family name... it¡¯s just a name. It¡¯s not worth this.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Valyra said firmly. ¡°You left when you were still young. You never learned what we are. If we were just another noble house, yes, it wouldn¡¯t matter if we vanished. Even suns fade. But our family is different, Kayvaan. We are guardians. We safeguard the flame.¡±


    ¡°The flame?¡± Kayvaan frowned. ¡°What flame?¡±


    ¡°The flame of humanity,¡± Valyra said solemnly. ¡°It¡¯s the STC.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°STC? You mean a Standard Template Construct?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied. ¡°But not the fragments and corrupted blueprints the Mechanicus covets. What we have is something... else.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s breath caught. ¡°How else?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s complete,¡± Valyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Pristine. Untouched, as if the Dark Age never ended.¡±


    Kayvaan felt his heart sink. If what she claimed was true, then the Kayvaan family hadn¡¯t been guarding treasure¡ªthey were hiding a relic of unthinkable power. A relic that could change or doom the Imperium forever. ¡°But even the Mechanicus doesn¡¯t see STCs as threats to humanity¡¯s survival,¡± he said cautiously.


    ¡°They¡¯ve never seen one as perfect as this,¡± Valyra replied, her voice grave. ¡°Listen to me, Kayvaan. This isn¡¯t just an heirloom. It¡¯s a secret that could reshape the galaxy. If it fell into the wrong hands, it wouldn¡¯t just be us¡ªit would end the Imperium as we know it.¡±


    In the Golden Age of Mankind, humanity reached heights of technological and cultural prowess that bordered on the miraculous. They mastered interstellar travel, navigating the treacherous dimensions of the warp, and began colonizing the vast expanse of the galaxy. But for the brave colonists stepping onto unfamiliar planets, the universe was not only full of awe-inspiring wonders but also unprecedented dangers.


    On these new worlds, the comforts of Terra were a distant dream. Colonists couldn¡¯t simply rely on supplies from their homeworld¡ªthey had to fend for themselves. Imagine needing something as simple as a container to hold water. It would need to be functional, durable, and ideally, aesthetically pleasing. On Terra, such a thing could be picked up for mere pennies. But on a newly established colony, shipping a batch of fragile ceramics across the stars was out of the question.


    This posed a pressing challenge: how would colonists make what they needed? Take ceramics as an example. Firing clay into usable shapes is an ancient craft, but by the Golden Age, it had become a niche skill. People were fluent in multiple languages, capable of repairing advanced tools, and deeply knowledgeable about space travel or human biology. But how many could say they knew how to make a simple ceramic cup? Even on 21st-century Terra, very few people¡ªapart from specialists¡ªwould have that knowledge. Division of labor had long since rendered such skills unnecessary in daily life.


    And ceramics were just the beginning. What about cutting wood for construction? Logging is a hazardous job that even trained workers handle with caution. How about fishing? Building houses? Producing cement? Every step of life¡¯s basic necessities required skills most colonists simply didn¡¯t have. On Terra, these items were commodities taken for granted. On alien worlds, they were treasures. The only viable solution was to produce these goods locally¡ªbut how?

 Chapter 53 - STC

    The Standard Template Construct, or STC, was humanity¡¯s answer. It was a near-mythical machine from the Golden Age, a pinnacle of human ingenuity. The STC was designed to standardize and program the manufacturing methods for virtually everything humanity had created. From simple tools to advanced machinery, the STC stored detailed instructions, enabling anyone to replicate Terra¡¯s vast array of products.


    In essence, the STC was a foolproof guide. If you could read, you could use it. With enough suitable materials, anyone could create anything¡ªfrom a bar of soap to a piece of pristine writing paper, from a basic fishing rod to a massive combine harvester. Following its instructions step-by-step, even a single individual could manufacture a tank. Pair the STC with automated machinery, and you had the means to mass-produce anything imaginable.


    The breadth of its database was staggering. Humanity¡¯s technological capabilities in the Golden Age were so advanced they bordered on magic. For example, the Titan, the strongest war machine in today¡¯s arsenal, were but one of countless technological marvels.


    Humans of that era were bold, innovative, and resourceful. They thrived in a golden era of prosperity and exploration. If history had continued uninterrupted, the galaxy would have undoubtedly become humanity¡¯s domain. But this golden age ended abruptly, catastrophically.


    The fall of the Golden Age was as sudden and devastating as the mythical sinking of Atlantis. A massive warp storm swept through the galaxy, severing humanity¡¯s connection to the stars. Unlike a natural disaster, this storm didn¡¯t directly affect the physical world. Instead, it wreaked havoc in the warp¡ªa parallel dimension crucial for faster-than-light travel. Navigation became impossible, and attempting to traverse the warp was suicidal.


    Humanity¡¯s lifeline was cut. Without warp travel, the vast distances between stars became insurmountable. Colonies that once thrived as part of a unified human empire were reduced to isolated outposts, each stranded and alone. The STC network, which had enabled their survival, was obliterated. Nearly every STC machine was destroyed, and the knowledge it contained was lost.


    The collapse was inevitable. Without the tools to sustain their advanced society, humanity fell into chaos. For centuries, the species teetered on the brink of extinction¡ªuntil the rise of the Emperor. In the aftermath, the remnants of the STC became priceless relics. Even a fragment of a functional STC could revolutionize an entire civilization¡¯s technological capabilities. A fully operational STC? It would be nothing short of a miracle.


    The Emperor''s unmatched mastery of technology from the Golden Age and the depth of his understanding had a profound effect on the followers of the Cult Mechanicus. To them, it was unthinkable that someone so well-versed in the mysteries of their sacred craft could be anything but a divine figure. Some whispered, with fearful reverence, that the Emperor might be the physical embodiment of the Omnissiah¡ªthe Machine God''s chosen vessel. How else could anyone explain such incomprehensible brilliance?


    This near-worship made Standard Template Constructs (STC) a particularly sensitive matter. STCs were relics of the past, containing schematics that could unlock technologies beyond compare¡ªif their contents were usable. Without the means to interpret or replicate the data, an STC was little more than a lifeless artifact, destined to gather dust in a vault. Its true worth wasn¡¯t in its physical form but in the knowledge it preserved¡ªknowledge that could alter the fate of the galaxy.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°So, what can we actually do with this STC?¡± Kayvaan asked, his brow furrowed. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be some incredible stuff in it, right?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Valyra shot back, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°You know¡­ massive voidships, orbital fortresses, titanic war machines¡ªthings that could flatten whole armies. You¡¯ve gotta admit that¡¯s cool.¡± His eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought. ¡°Imagine what we could build!¡±


    Valyra let out a frustrated sigh, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Seriously, Kayvaan? After ten millennia, you¡¯re still like a child getting excited over bigger guns and shinier toys. Battleships and fortresses sound impressive, but what¡¯s the point? War machines only fuel more war. They don¡¯t build the future; they bury it. You just don¡¯t understand what an STC really means!¡±


    Kayvaan shrugged, unfazed. ¡°Fine, call me a barbarian. Enlighten me, then. What¡¯s so special about it besides turning my stone club into something fancier?¡±


    Valyra crossed her arms, her tone sharpening. ¡°The true treasure isn¡¯t the machines or the relics themselves¡ªit¡¯s the knowledge. That¡¯s where real power lies. It¡¯s not about revering the sacred schematics like the Mechanicus does; it¡¯s about understanding the science, the logic behind why things work and how they¡¯re made. Knowledge is the key to shaping the galaxy itself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s it?¡± Kayvaan quipped, smirking. ¡°How exactly does your ¡®understanding¡¯ upgrade our fleet? Does it bless the engines with more thrust or the hulls with better plating?¡±


    ¡°More than that,¡± Valyra countered, her voice firm with conviction. ¡°With that knowledge, we wouldn¡¯t just rebuild¡ªwe¡¯d advance. Imagine surpassing even the achievements of the Golden Age. A blade, not just sharp steel, but sheathed in molecular disruption fields. Armor that bends light itself. Weapons that shatter mountains with precision. The possibilities are limitless if we can grasp what was lost.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a nice dream,¡± Kayvaan said lightly, ¡°but you do realize you sound like a heretic, right? If the Mechanicus catches wind of this, they¡¯ll strap you to a plasma engine and send you to the nearest star.¡±


    Valyra laughed, unshaken. ¡°Heretic? Me? That¡¯s rich. The Mechanicus are the real heretics. They¡¯ve turned stagnation into a religion¡ªclinging to superstition and ritual because they fear progress. They destroy what they can¡¯t control. Sure, they¡¯d kill me if they knew what I thought, but they won¡¯t. That¡¯s the difference¡ªthey¡¯re blind to what they don¡¯t see.¡±


    Kayvaan chuckled and shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re deluded if you think secrets last forever. All secrets feel safe at first, but they always come out¡ªespecially with the Mechanicus. Their reach is infinite. Even out here, beyond Segmentum Solar, their influence is everywhere. Forge Worlds, legions of cybernetic thralls, and data-spirits watching for the smallest breach.¡±


    In the Imperium, any church that worships gods other than the God-Emperor is forbidden to exist openly. "Freedom of belief" is not a concept that has ever been acknowledged, let alone tolerated. The phrase itself has been erased from High Gothic lexicons. For the citizens of the Imperium, there are only two types of faith: faith in the God-Emperor or faith in heresy. Pagan cults, when discovered, are eradicated with ruthless efficiency by the inquisition, which enforces the Emperor¡¯s divine will without hesitation. The Sisters of Battle take particular pride in purging heretics and their false gods, leaving only ashes in their wake.


    Yet, under this iron rule, the Adeptus Mechanicus continues to exist, their position unchallenged within the Imperium. It is a testament to their influence. Though the Mechanicus rarely flaunts its strength, their authority is impossible to ignore¡ªmost visibly in the Imperial High Council, where the Fabricator-General of Mars holds one of the twelve seats. Even the Ecclesiarchy begrudgingly accepts the Mechanicus as a vital part of the Imperium.

 Chapter 54 - Adeptus Mechanicus

    The reason is clear: the Adeptus Mechanicus controls the Imperium¡¯s technological lifeblood. They command countless Forge Worlds that produce the weapons, ships, and supplies that fuel the Emperor¡¯s wars across a million worlds. Without the Mechanicus, the Imperium would collapse into ruin. If they ever withheld their industry, the consequences would be apocalyptic. ¡°I understand what you¡¯re getting at,¡± Valyra said calmly. ¡°It¡¯s precisely because of the Mechanicus¡¯ power that I¡¯ve kept quiet all these years, allowing those robed fanatics to play their games in my territory.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Kayvaan snapped, pacing restlessly, his agitation plain. ¡°Are you seriously planning to provoke the Mechanicus? Do you realize how bad things already are? Why make it worse? And why am I just hearing about this now?¡±


    Valyra raised a hand, signaling him to calm down. ¡°What exactly do you want to know, brother?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± Kayvaan said, exasperated. ¡°Why have you changed so much? How have you lived for nine thousand years? What¡¯s the deal with our STC? And why are you antagonizing the Mechanicus? Honestly, you¡¯re even more of a machine than they are! You¡¯re practically their mascot!¡±


    Valyra chuckled dryly. ¡°What a flattering comparison. Fine, I¡¯ll explain. There¡¯s much to cover, but I¡¯ll keep it simple for your sake.¡±


    ¡°Good. Start from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with my body,¡± Valyra began. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you remember, but I¡¯ve been¡­ different since we were children.¡±


    ¡°Of course. You were always the one with her nose in books. You were smart¡ªtoo smart.¡±


    ¡°But I was still human,¡± she said sharply. ¡°Being a ¡®genius¡¯ doesn¡¯t mean anything in the Imperium. Geniuses grow old. They die. And in this age, they are crushed under the weight of ignorance. Especially those in science.¡± Her tone turned bitter. ¡°The Mechanicus is stagnant. They¡¯ve strangled human progress with their blind devotion. You can¡¯t imagine the torment of living as a scholar under their rule. They don¡¯t study technology¡ªthey worship it. Worse, they persecute anyone outside their ranks who dares to innovate.¡±


    She paused, her mechanical hand curling into a fist. ¡°Private research is forbidden. Civilians who attempt it are silenced¡ªexecuted or assassinated. And STCs¡ªthose sacred relics of technological knowledge¡ªare hoarded like treasures. The Mechanicus will stop at nothing to seize them.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± Kayvaan said flatly. ¡°It¡¯s what they¡¯ve always done.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re not furious about it?¡± Valyra shot back, her voice rising with frustration. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a monopoly¡ªit¡¯s a betrayal of humanity. They¡¯ve twisted knowledge into a religion and made curiosity into a crime. The so-called Machine God isn¡¯t real, Kayvaan¡ªit¡¯s a lie they cling to because they¡¯re afraid to question.¡±


    Kayvaan shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Are you sure about that? Some machines do seem to¡­ defy logic.¡±


    Valyra sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll admit there are mysteries we don¡¯t fully understand. But even the strangest machines aren¡¯t divine¡ªthey¡¯re the product of science lost to time. The Mechanicus refuses to see that. They revere technology instead of advancing it. Do you have any idea how much this has crippled the Imperium?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Kayvaan frowned, but Valyra pressed on, her words flowing like a torrent. ¡°Our technology has regressed because of them. Nine thousand years ago, in the Emperor¡¯s time, weapons and ships that are now seen as sacred artifacts were standard issue. Whole classes of voidcraft can no longer be built because the Mechanicus lost the knowledge to make them. Can you fathom it? Losing the tools of our own survival!¡± Valyra paused, her mechanical body still as her voice softened. ¡°This is why I changed, Kayvaan. I refused to let the Mechanicus dictate my life or the fate of science. I became what I am to survive¡ªand to fight back.¡±


    Kayvaan remained silent. Valyra was right about everything. In Kayvaan''s view, the Adeptus Mechanicus wasn¡¯t an organization of scientific researchers at all. Instead, it felt more like a church of archaeologists. Their mission seemed less about advancing humanity and more about spreading their dogma across the galaxy. They scoured the stars for ancient Standard Template Constructs (STCs), claiming the knowledge stored within them. Once an STC was uncovered, it was used to mass-produce tools, weapons, or technology, which were then distributed to the Imperium. Then, they¡¯d dive back into the endless ocean of ancient texts, investigation reports, and fragments of intelligence scattered across the void to hunt for the next STC.


    But most of these efforts ended in failure. The rare times they did find an STC, it was often too damaged to be of use. Finding one in decent condition was almost a miracle for the Mechanicus. In thousands of archaeological ventures, unearthing even a single usable template was seen as the blessing of the Omnissiah.


    "You¡¯re saying that if this keeps up, we might regress to the Stone Age?" Kayvaan asked after a long pause. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head. "I don¡¯t know¡­ It¡¯s hard to believe. The Imperium is so powerful. It doesn¡¯t seem possible that the Mechanicus¡ªwhatever flaws it might have¡ªcould lead to humanity¡¯s extinction. They¡¯ve helped us sustain the war effort, haven¡¯t they? Destroy the Imperium? End humanity? It just sounds... ridiculous."


    Valyra¡¯s voice was steady but firm. "What seems ridiculous to you isn¡¯t because it¡¯s impossible¡ªit¡¯s because your emotions won¡¯t let you accept such a grim truth. Deep down, you know the kind of organization the Mechanicus is. You know their flaws better than anyone."


    Kayvaan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. So¡­ how does this connect to your situation?"


    Valyra hesitated for a moment, then her voice came through, slightly distorted by the speakers. "I have to protect the family¡¯s secret. This STC wasn¡¯t discovered by accident. Our grandfather unearthed it during an expedition, buried deep beneath a planet¡¯s surface. Somehow, it had survived countless millennia, shielded from storms and the ravages of time. Its preservation is nothing short of a miracle. You have no idea how precious it is. If the knowledge contained within it were fully extracted and shared with humanity, it could spark a golden age. The enemies of mankind would fall to their knees, and the glory of our past would return."


    Valyra¡¯s words, once filled with fervor, suddenly carried a trace of sadness. "But that dream is out of reach. Right now, all we can do is hide this STC. Keep it buried in the farthest corners of the galaxy."


    "The gap between ideals and reality," Kayvaan muttered, shaking his head with a bitter smile. "The ideal is to save humanity. The reality? We¡¯re hiding underground like rats, clutching onto secrets."


    "It¡¯s all worth it," Valyra replied fiercely. "Every sacrifice. The loneliness of carrying this burden. The pain of never being able to share it. The responsibility that weighs heavier than any mountain. Turning myself into this¡ªthis fusion of flesh and machine, no longer human nor fully machine¡ªevery agony I endure is worth it. It¡¯s all to protect this secret. You left home, brother. I never had children. My obsession with this research, my need for secrecy, left me with no one to trust. And even if there were someone I could trust, how could I entrust them with something so monumental? No, this burden is mine alone. That¡¯s why I connected my body to the machine. My mind is always linked to the STC. As long as the machine is maintained, I can protect this knowledge¡­ forever."

 Chapter 55 - Sisters Goal

    Kayvaan frowned. "Do you really want to protect the future of humanity? Or is this just about your thirst for knowledge? You¡¯ve always been happiest when immersed in your studies. You once told me that eating and sleeping were just chores to you¡ªwastes of time. That if you could, you¡¯d spend your whole life doing nothing but reading and researching."


    A dry chuckle came from Valyra. "You remember that so well. But no, this isn¡¯t just about my love for knowledge. This is about responsibility. When grandfather discovered the STC, his first instinct was to share this monumental find with the Emperor. But back then, the Emperor had just forged a pact with the Mechanicus. If this discovery went public, the STC would¡¯ve been handed over to them as part of the deal.


    "The Emperor knew better. He understood the true nature of the Mechanicus and refused to let them have it. Instead, he ordered grandfather to keep the STC hidden. He dreamed of a future where the Imperium would have its own research institutions, its own scientists. In that future, the Mechanicus wouldn¡¯t hold humanity hostage with their archaic faith. The Emperor saw this STC as a tool for that future¡ªa future where humanity¡¯s golden age could return.


    ¡°But¡­" Valyra¡¯s voice faltered, tinged with sorrow. "The Emperor was betrayed, and that dream never came to pass. Brother, you don¡¯t need to worry about me. I know my limits. I can hide well from the eyes of the Mechanicus. When my Captain discovered the STC, the Emperor¡¯s protection was already in place. Besides, while this STC is undeniably precious, it¡¯s not as useful as you might think¡ªnot without its original protocols. Each STC is equipped with a comprehensive defense system. Accessing its files without the proper permissions is nearly impossible. I¡¯ve been battling this system for years, and even now, I¡¯ve only managed to unlock less than one ten-thousandth of its data."


    Kayvaan frowned, trying to process the staggering inefficiency. In over nine thousand years, she¡¯d unlocked a fraction of the "knowledge," and even then, it seemed to consist mostly of basic schematics. "So, let me guess," Kayvaan said. "You gave up the Governor''s seat to me because you need more time to break through that defense system?"


    "My time is limited," Valyra admitted, her voice heavy with frustration. "I can¡¯t afford to waste it on trivial matters. Imagine standing before a treasure trove of invaluable knowledge, only to find yourself locked out. It¡¯s maddening. Even though I don¡¯t need to eat or sleep anymore, I still need to rest and manage the territory, which eats up so much of my time. And let¡¯s not forget the Mechanicus. I have to constantly watch my back because there¡¯s a Forge World orbiting the Reach star above our heads. All these distractions make it impossible to focus. But now that you¡¯re here, brother, you can handle it all."


    Kayvaan finally understood. The remote and barren planet, the long-forgotten lineage, and even the throne returning to his hands¡ªit was all for the STC. "So, I¡¯m essentially your babysitter?" he asked with a wry smile.


    "Let¡¯s call it mutual assistance," Valyra said, her tone lightening. "I can do plenty for you too."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Like what?" Kayvaan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "For starters, the armor you¡¯re wearing," Valyra replied. "Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just a routine check-up," she added as eight sleek, metallic arms extended from the massive machinery surrounding her. Some carried scanners that emitted a soft blue light, while others had intricate tools. The arms moved around him, scanning and probing his suit before retracting.


    ¡°Done,¡± Valyra said, stepping back to inspect her work. ¡°The suit you¡¯re wearing is a simplified design based on early Imperial reconnaissance gear, likely derived from pre-Heresy scout uniforms. Stripped-down performance for a massive reduction in cost. It¡¯s functional, but crude by today¡¯s standards.¡± She tapped a few keys on her portable cogitator. ¡°With the tools I have, I can tweak and upgrade it. Some adjustments to the armor¡¯s joint flexibility and thermal padding could improve comfort and overall performance by about 20%.¡±


    "Twenty percent?" Kayvaan exclaimed, stunned. That kind of improvement could mean life or death on the battlefield. The suit wasn¡¯t just protective; its exoskeleton design enhanced strength, stamina, and reflexes. A 20% boost across the board was like being handed god-tier equipment in a game, except there were no second chances in real life. He swallowed. "Just the suit?"


    "I can upgrade your weapons too¡ªguns, blades, cloaks, you name it. Standard scout equipment is within my reach," Valyra replied.


    "What about more advanced gear, like power armor?"


    Valyra hesitated. "Brother, having better personal gear is fine. After all, you¡¯re the Governor of a star system¡ªsome perks are expected. But equipping your entire legion with top-tier gear? That would draw the Mechanicus¡¯s attention, and you don¡¯t want that. If they find out about me, it won¡¯t just be inconvenient. It¡¯ll be the end."


    Kayvaan nodded grimly. Exposure would mean annihilation, no doubt about it. "So, what do I do moving forward?" he asked. "Any advice?"


    "That¡¯s up to you. I¡¯m not interested in managing the territory. The only reason I bothered before was to stay under the radar. As long as I didn¡¯t stir up trouble, I could work quietly. Now that you¡¯re in charge, none of that concerns me. Honestly, you could sell off all the people, turn them into slaves, mine the planet dry, or build a massive palace and fill it with wives and concubines. Whatever makes you happy," she said with a teasing smirk.


    Kayvaan sighed. "And how do we stay in touch?"


    "It¡¯s better if we don¡¯t. You¡¯re going to be busy¡ªgovernor, leader of a Chapter regiment, all that. Just focus on your work and make sure the Reach system doesn¡¯t fall apart. If I need you, I¡¯ll find you." Valyra paused, the machinery around her emitting a low hum. Suddenly, the giant construct that housed her body began to ripple like liquid metal. Moments later, it spat out a metallic coffin, which clattered onto the floor.


    The iron coffin opened with a mechanical hiss, and from within emerged a fair-faced female servitor. Like all servitors, she wore a long robe, but this one was unique: four mechanical limbs, resembling an arachnid¡¯s, extended from her back to assist her movements. Her slender frame and the fluid motion of the limbs gave her an unsettling grace¡ªsomething alien, yet disturbingly human.


    Beneath the robe, there was nothing¡ªjust emptiness where flesh should have been. The front hung slightly open, revealing elegant collarbones and a slender, unblemished throat. Her closed eyes and serene features hinted at a beauty frozen in time, untarnished by the ravages of reality. Crawling out of the coffin, the mechanical limbs bore her weight, allowing her to stand. The limbs moved her forward, each step accompanied by a faint mechanical whir. The robe swayed with her movements, offering glimpses of pale legs beneath. He studied her, and his expression darkened. ¡°This¡­¡± His voice was low and guarded. ¡°This is you. From when you were younger.¡±

 Chapter 56 - Im Sorry

    The resemblance wasn¡¯t approximate¡ªit was exact. Valyra¡¯s voice answered, calm and dismissive. ¡°Why do you look so shocked? It¡¯s not me¡ªnot exactly. She¡¯s a clone grown from my genetic material. Flesh without a soul.¡± She waved a hand toward the servitor. ¡°This is the Valyra Type-74. Grown from my DNA, equipped with an artificial neural cortex, and capable of tasks far beyond standard servitors. Repairs, maintenance¡­ you name it. As long as I¡¯m within the Reach system, I can directly interface with her through optic-network relays.¡±


    The immense mechanical construct behind her gave a final shudder, its lifeless eyes dimming with a heavy groan. As the machine powered down, the figure in front of Kayvaan stirred. A lock of her hair moved as if caught by a nonexistent breeze. Her eyes snapped open, glowing with unnatural red light. The doll-like stillness vanished as her face shifted¡ªsuddenly animated, alive. ¡°Brother!¡± she called out, her voice light and unnervingly cheerful as she trotted toward him. ¡°Isn¡¯t this body something special?¡±


    Kayvaan froze, unease creeping through him. He glanced between the now-dormant construct and the lively figure approaching him. ¡°You¡­ moved from that thing into this body?¡± His hand instinctively shifted toward his weapon. ¡°What are you doing, Valyra? What is this?¡±


    Valyra¡ªnow fully inhabiting the servitor¡ªlaughed, waving dismissively. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so horrified. It¡¯s not heretical possession, I promise. It¡¯s still me¡ªyour brilliant, charming sister!¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°Charming, you say? You¡¯re a nine-thousand-year-old abomination. Who exactly do you think you¡¯re fooling?¡±


    Valyra¡¯s playful expression soured, replaced by a chilling calm. ¡°And what about you, brother? Is the Astartes still human? Do they count as men? You feel no desire for women. You fear nothing¡ªnot death, not pain. Two hearts beat in your chest. Three lungs feed your body. Your very form relies on constant bio-chemical balance just to function. You¡¯re a weapon, Kayvaan, not a man. So tell me¡ªare you still human?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Watch your words, Valyra. The Astartes are humanity¡¯s protectors¡ªthe pride of the Emperor Himself. We gave everything to defend mankind.¡±


    ¡°And how am I any different?¡± Valyra countered sharply. ¡°I altered my body, yes, but why? To protect our family. To uncover knowledge. To safeguard secrets that would have destroyed lesser minds. And I regret none of it.¡± Her eyes burned as she continued. ¡°This body is mine. My flesh. My DNA. The artificial cortex is nothing more than a tool. When I log out, it¡¯s just a servitor. When I¡¯m here, it¡¯s me¡ªfully and completely.¡±


    She stepped closer, her gaze unyielding. ¡°So tell me, brother¡ªdo you want me to regret it? Do you want me to abandon my progress just to fit into your narrow ideals of humanity?¡±


    Kayvaan stood speechless. Valyra believed she was doing the right thing, and in her view, no one was being harmed¡ªnot even herself. Yet to Kayvaan, her actions were undeniably destructive. She used her own genetic material as an experimental canvas, sculpting her humanity into something alien. This wasn¡¯t the servitor augmetics the Mechanicus preached as a necessary cost¡ªit was a deliberate rejection of her very nature. Could anyone really reduce themselves to such a state? This wasn¡¯t a cogitator, where you simply logged in and out. It was a living vessel, corrupted by purpose. Valyra didn¡¯t see it that way, and Kayvaan found himself at a loss for words.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say,¡± Kayvaan muttered, rubbing his temples. ¡°I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re wrong, Valyra. I just feel like you don¡¯t value yourself enough. You don¡¯t need to treat your own body like¡­ like¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she snapped, her voice sharp as iron. ¡°Brother, you pity me. You look at me and see something alien. ¡®Why does she look like this? Can she still feel anything in that steel form? Is she even human?¡¯ That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking, isn¡¯t it? Such a shallow reaction.¡±


    ¡°But you said you were tired,¡± Kayvaan pressed, his tone softer this time.


    Valyra blinked, realization flashing across her features. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s what this is about. Brother, you¡¯ve misunderstood. I¡¯m not tired of living. Long life is no burden to me. Every moment I exist is a chance to pursue the truth, to uncover the unknown. What tires me is meaningless repetition. I live for discovery, not secrecy. The thrill of the unknown fuels me. Burying those discoveries? Now that is boring.¡±


    She offered a faint smile, cold and distant. ¡°But now that you¡¯re back, everything is perfect. I can focus on what I enjoy¡ªexploration. And you, brother, can take care of the rest. The dull tasks. The politics. Act like the lord you were made to be.¡±


    Kayvaan hesitated, struggling to find the words. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to live like this. I want you to be happy. I want you to have a normal life. Wear fine robes, find a partner, maybe¡ª¡±


    Valyra cut him off with a bitter laugh. ¡°And then what? Die like everyone else, leaving a handful of broken hearts behind? Live a life so small, so fleeting it means nothing? That¡¯s what you¡¯d wish for me?¡± Her voice dripped with disgust. ¡°I haven¡¯t felt this level of revulsion in a thousand years, Kayvaan. Don¡¯t waste time pushing your ideals on me. Nine thousand years ago, we stopped being ¡®normal.¡¯ I chose my path. I earned my happiness. You don¡¯t get to dictate it.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed, his shoulders sagging. ¡°You¡¯re right. I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Valyra¡¯s expression softened, though the warmth never reached her voice. She turned brisk again. ¡°An Inquisitor has entered the system and sent a briefing. Something¡¯s happened. Go do what you need to. When you return, I¡¯ll have new wargear ready. You¡¯ll like it.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m leaving. Don¡¯t overextend yourself.¡±


    Valyra pointed to her servitor shell. ¡°Take No. 74.¡± She closed her eyes, the tuft of hair on her forehead drooping lifelessly as if all power had drained from it. When the servitor¡¯s eyes reopened, the red light within them was dim, vacant. Valyra was gone. The construct behind her groaned back to life, a mechanical echo filling the chamber. ¡°Goodbye, brother,¡± came its lifeless, synthesized voice.


    The transit ride back was silent and uneventful¡ªexcept for the figure seated opposite him. Kayvaan couldn¡¯t help but glance at the woman. Her robe was familiar, yet something about her unsettled him. ¡°Your name is No. 74?¡± he finally asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied without inflection.


    ¡°Why No. 74? Why not No. 1 or No. 2?¡±


    ¡°Genetic cloning is imperfect,¡± she explained flatly. ¡°Even the Mechanicus fails to produce reliable results on the first attempt. I am the seventy-fourth.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°And the others? Your predecessors?¡±


    ¡°They were failures,¡± she answered without pause. ¡°They were purged.¡±


    His expression darkened. ¡°Purged? You mean¡­ they were destroyed?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she clarified, her voice void of any feeling. ¡°Only humans can die. I am not human.¡±


    Her words struck like a blow. A tool, discarded when deemed insufficient. What had Valyra done? What had she become? ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Kayvaan murmured.


    ¡°There is no need,¡± No. 74 replied dispassionately. ¡°I do not feel sadness.¡±


    Kayvaan studied her empty crimson eyes¡ªvoids that stared through him without meaning or warmth. ¡°Then what do you feel? Joy? Fear? Guilt? Love?¡±

 Chapter 57 - STC in My Territory!?

    ¡°No,¡± she said, her voice calm and detached. ¡°I am a servitor in all but function. I exist to serve. If this body is damaged, it will be replaced. I am not burdened by such concepts.¡±


    Kayvaan''s mind churned with a whirlwind of thoughts, tangling together like a basket of loose yarn tossed into a storm. It was chaos, pure and simple. Frustrated, he slapped his cheeks to shake off the muddled haze and made his way to the wine cabinet. Pouring himself a generous glass of amasec, he downed it in one gulp. Then another. By the third glass, he exhaled deeply, the warmth of the alcohol loosening the tension in his chest. Finally, he felt clear-headed enough to think.


    The first question he needed to answer was simple: Should he help Valyra? Should he stand by her side?


    The answer came almost immediately. Of course, he should. Valyra was his sister, after all. But then doubt crept in, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. Was she really his sister? ¡°What a ridiculous question,¡± Kayvaan muttered, shaking his head at his own cowardice. Without hesitation, he slapped himself hard enough to sting. ¡°Of course she is. If I¡¯m Kayvaan, then Valyra is my sister.¡±


    Blood ties weren¡¯t something that could be debated. Even if her veins now carried something strange¡ªbe it electricity or motor oil¡ªit didn¡¯t change the fact that they shared the same father. That bond was undeniable.


    Still, the question lingered: What had he done to deserve this life? He¡¯d been thrust into this world with a strong body, a renowned name, and a level of power most people could only dream of. It had all come to him effortlessly, leaving him feeling uneasy, as if such unearned fortune might vanish like a mirage.


    Kayvaan clenched his fists. If he spent his days simply enjoying what he had without a care in the world, then he would be nothing more than a bastard¡ªa boy, not a man. And the difference between the two, he knew, came down to responsibility. Boys could apologize and move on when they made mistakes. Men, on the other hand, bore the weight of their faults and the consequences of those tied to them.


    Valyra was his responsibility. His burden.


    No, not a burden. She was the only thing in this vast, unfamiliar world that truly felt real. Empires, planetary governors, and humanity as a concept all seemed abstract, distant. But Valyra, with her struggles and sorrow, grounded him. She gave him purpose. His resolve firmed, and strength surged back into his body. ¡°I¡¯ll help her,¡± Kayvaan murmured. ¡°No matter what it takes.¡±


    But how? Where would he even begin? Her mind, warped by centuries of existence within a metal shell, was the root of the problem. That wasn¡¯t something he could fix overnight. It would take time, patience, and trust to help her find her way back.


    For now, the priority was keeping her safe and hidden.


    Kayvaan''s gaze shifted to No. 74, who stood silently in the corner. She was a servitor¡ªyoung and strikingly beautiful in appearance, but her role was one of unquestioning labor. Her presence gnawed at him, incongruous and unsettling. Like a pearl tossed into the mud, her beauty only made her more noticeable. ¡°You can¡¯t walk around looking like that,¡± Kayvaan said, gesturing at her. ¡°You¡¯ll draw too much attention. Do you have a disguise?¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Without a word, No. 74 nodded. From within her cloak, she produced a standard rebreather mask and slipped it on. She zipped up her robe, covering her figure entirely, and stomped into a pair of oversized, battered leather boots. The transformation was startling. Where once stood an elegant figure, there was now a ragged, nondescript servitor.


    No one would give her a second glance. Just like the countless workers who toiled in the manufactorums, servitors were invisible to society¡ªtoo insignificant to care about.¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± Kayvaan said with a nod. His unease eased. ¡°Once we¡¯re done here, I¡¯ll collapse this tunnel.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± she replied quietly. Kayvaan took a deep breath, steeling himself. He¡¯d seal this secret underground and bury it for good. Once that was done, he¡¯d focus on eliminating the danger that threatened Valyra.


    When he returned to his study, a house servant approached with news: two important visitors were waiting for him aboard the Ebony Shadow.


    One was an old acquaintance, Inquisitor Elizabeth. She was as striking as ever, clad in her battle-sister-pattern power armor. The white plating gleamed with intricate engravings, and the strips of purity seals hanging from her shoulder plates hinted at her many accomplishments. Despite her beauty, her icy demeanor kept everyone at arm¡¯s length.


    The other visitor, though unfamiliar, was someone Kayvaan had already labeled as ¡°dangerous.¡± He wore a dark green robe and had eight mechanical arms extending from his back. His fair complexion and gold-rimmed glasses gave him the air of a scholar, especially with the nervous energy flickering in his light blue eyes. If not for the flamboyant mechanical appendages, he could have passed for an ordinary intellectual. This was Gustav Magos, the manufactorum overseer of Ferrum-3.


    Elizabeth gestured invitingly toward the man sitting across the room. "This is Gustav," she said, introducing him. "He¡¯s the planetary and manufactorum director of the Ferrum-3 Forge World, which falls under your purview. Gustav, this is Lord Kayvaan, the sector governor."


    Gustav rose from his seat, bowing slightly. "It¡¯s an honor to meet you, my lord. I should¡¯ve come sooner to congratulate you on assuming your station, but matters of grave importance kept me. Now, though, I¡¯m here to request your aid with something urgent."


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"


    ¡°It¡¯s about STCs,¡± Gustav said simply. Kayvaan felt his heart skip a beat. It was as if his chest would explode. He¡¯d only just learned from his sister about the monumental secret of the Standard Template Construct. He had barely begun to process the revelation or strategize how to keep it from the Adeptus Mechanicus, and now Gustav had come out of nowhere, casually dropping the term.


    Despite the storm within, Kayvaan kept his expression composed, showing only faint curiosity. His posture exuded a dismissive calm, as if to say: ¡®STC? Impressive, perhaps, but what does that matter to me?¡¯


    Gustav, anticipating the reaction, leaned forward slightly. "As you are aware, the Mechanicus has scoured the galaxy for Standard Template Constructs. Most of our searches rely on fragments of records unearthed from the vaults of Mars. A long time ago, data suggested an STC fragment might be hidden in the Eastern Fringe. The search area spans thousands of systems, and the Reach Star in your sector was once listed as a candidate."


    Kayvaan¡¯s pulse quickened. He kept his voice calm, though, and asked casually, "An STC in my territory? Are you certain? What evidence do you have?"

 Chapter 58 - Establishing the Plan

    Gustav shook his head. "Nothing concrete. The lead is thousands of years old. Since then, the Mechanicus has dispatched no fewer than eight explorator detachments to survey your region. Centuries of searches have produced no results. Personally, I find it improbable. Your sector lies so remote that even during the Dark Age of Technology, colonization here was sparse."


    Kayvaan¡¯s thoughts turned dark. ¡®Damn it, Gustav, you¡¯re giving me a heart attack over nothing.¡¯ One day, he swore, he¡¯d tie those mechanical limbs into knots just to see the man squirm. Outwardly, though, he softened his tone. "Then why tell me this? What¡¯s your point?"


    "Ah, well," Gustav continued. "While no findings emerged from your sector, there has been a breakthrough elsewhere."


    Kayvaan forced back the urge to snap, ¡®What does that have to do with me?¡¯ Instead, he smiled faintly. "I¡¯m sorry, but could you get to the point? How does this concern me?"


    "We require your assistance," Gustav said firmly. "The border world Fortis Aion is under siege. The 101st Cadian regiment stationed at the Fort Gallan is being overrun. They¡¯ve sent an emergency signal. For the Mechanicus, Aion is critical. It serves as both our forward stronghold and the nearest Warp transit hub back to Imperial space. Months ago, a Mechanicus survey uncovered what appears to be an ancient buried city. Initial augur scans indicate the possibility of STC remnants within it."


    Kayvaan¡¯s face remained composed. "You mentioned Aion as a connection to Imperial space. Elaborate."


    Gustav inclined his head. "Warp travel relies on stable routes mapped over millennia. Aion represents the most reliable nexus linking this fringe sector back to the greater Imperium. If Aion falls, the Warp corridor will collapse. Alternative routes are uncharted and fraught with peril. Any attempts to open a new path would delay transit by six months or more. You passed through Aion¡¯s corridor to arrive here. Without it, your domain would be isolated¡ªcut off from support, reinforcement, or retreat."


    Kayvaan nodded, his mind racing. ¡®If Aion falls, we¡¯re stranded.¡¯ It was a grim reality¡ªno reinforcements, no escape. "I understand the severity. But you¡¯re aware that my Knights Templar chapter is newly formed. We are far from combat-ready. My seneschal is still scouting locations for our fortress-monastery. The chaplain is occupied establishing command structures and training recruits. My Techmarine hasn¡¯t yet completed his forge. I¡¯ve no full company of Astartes, let alone an army. How do you expect me to assist?"


    Gustav¡¯s mechanical limbs shifted slightly. ¡°We are aware of your limitations, my lord. Yet the threat to Aion cannot be ignored. Even a small strike force could shift the balance. The Cadians fight valiantly, but they cannot hold against such opposition alone. Your presence¡ªyour command¡ªcould turn the tide.¡±


    Before Kayvaan could respond, Elizabeth interjected. ¡°If you¡¯re worried about firepower, you don¡¯t need to be. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. My Sisters and I will bring all the might you require.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned thoughtfully. ¡°With the Inquisition involved, mustering sufficient strength should be straightforward. How many troops are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s me, fourteen of my Sisters, yourself, and Gustav,¡± Elizabeth listed briskly. ¡°Altogether, that makes seventeen.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Seventeen?!¡± Kayvaan leaned back, disbelief writ across his face. ¡°You¡¯re bringing fifteen fighters? Are you here to mock me? A Cadian regiment can¡¯t retake the fortress, and you think seventeen people will succeed? How many enemies are we even facing?¡±


    ¡°Our estimates suggest between fifty and seventy,¡±  Elizabeth replied, unbothered. ¡°Eldar Rangers. They¡¯ve locked down the fortress using long-range suppression tactics. To be blunt, the Cadians can¡¯t show their faces without being cut down.¡±


    ¡°A handful of snipers suppressing a fortress? And the Cadians can¡¯t retaliate? What happened to their artillery?¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s tone turned icy. ¡°An unnatural explosion in the ammunition depot destroyed their shells before the battle began¡ªclearly sabotage by the Rangers. But for a fortress to allow such infiltration speaks to failure on the part of the Imperial Guard. Cowardice and negligence. It¡¯s disgraceful. My lord, as the leader of the Templar Knights, you should learn not to rely on such weak-willed forces.¡±


    Kayvaan exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. ¡°Fine, point taken. But then why involve me? If you and your Sisters are sufficient, what do you need me for?¡±


    Elizabeth hesitated, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. ¡°Ahem, well¡­ while my Sisters and I excel in faith and firepower, we lack subtlety. The Eldar won¡¯t face us directly, and capturing them alive requires¡­ finesse. That¡¯s where you come in.¡±


    ¡®Ah, so that¡¯s it.¡¯ Kayvaan fully grasped her dilemma. The Sisters of Battle were devastating in war, their zealous ferocity unmatched. But subtlety? Covert operations? ¡°Capture them alive¡±? Those concepts were anathema to their methods. For them, ¡°covert infiltration¡± often meant annihilating everything in the area and declaring it secure. Capturing someone alive depended more on the target¡¯s resilience than their restraint.


    ¡°It¡¯s unusual,¡± Kayvaan remarked, watching her carefully. ¡°Does this mission align with your order¡¯s goals?¡±


    ¡°Normally, no,¡± Elizabeth admitted. ¡°The Ordo Hereticus and Ordo Malleus focus on heretics and the daemonically tainted. Xenos are not our concern. But this time is different. These Eldar Rangers pose a dangerous unknown near our borders. Their understanding of the Warp and its denizens could be invaluable to the Inquisition.¡±


    Kayvaan wasn¡¯t convinced. He leaned back, studying the two people sitting in his modest chamber. One radiated unease over the potential presence of an STC on Aion, while the other simmered with frustration over her ¡°elf-child¡± prey that had vanished without a trace. Both seemed determined to mount a rescue operation as quickly as possible, yet neither seemed to spare much thought for the Astra Militarum forces still stranded there. But what was there to worry about? In an Imperium teetering on the brink, who among the Emperor¡¯s servants could truly claim control over their own survival?


    For Kayvaan, the battle ahead wasn¡¯t just another mission¡ªit was inevitable. The thought of retreat, even in the face of possible death, was inconceivable. ¡°I get it,¡± Kayvaan said at last, breaking the heavy silence. ¡°Whether it¡¯s about maintaining trade corridors, preserving the Imperium¡¯s interests, or saving the Guardsmen still holding out in Fort Gallan, we need to move immediately.¡± His tone hardened. ¡®And let¡¯s not forget¡ªthe merit evaluation tied to this operation. Success here is critical for my future standing. More importantly, it¡¯ll direct the Mechanicus¡¯ attention back to their ruins, which should buy my sister and me a little breathing room.¡¯


    Both Gustav and Elizabeth were on their feet at once, clearly eager to begin. Time was of the essence¡ªdelay was not an option.


    Gustav cleared his throat, his voice hesitant but firm. ¡°Who¡¯s leading this operation?¡±


    Elizabeth grinned, her confidence as unshakable as ceramite. ¡°You, obviously,¡± she said, pointing toward Kayvaan. ¡°You¡¯re responsible for capturing those alien wretches alive. No need to drag the Inquisition fully into this. The merit¡¯s all yours, but once we¡¯ve secured them, they¡¯ll be turned over to me for interrogation.¡±


    Kayvaan returned a mock bow, his tone sardonic. ¡°Of course, Lady Inquisitor. I¡¯ll notify my captain, and we¡¯ll set out at once.¡±

 Chapter 59 - Wheres Darius?

    Minutes later, the Ebony Shadow launch into the void of space, its engines roaring to life in bursts of crimson fire as it hurtled toward the distant stars. Back in his quarters, Kayvaan poured himself a glass of golden ale, froth spilling over the rim as he took a long sip. His chambers were sparse: a pair of worn sofas, a modest wine cabinet, and a few scattered datapads. The simplicity suited him.


    Jacob, his think-tank director, lounged nearby with a cup of recaf in hand, idly stirring the steaming liquid. ¡°Since you¡¯ve agreed to this mission,¡± Jacob began, his voice calm but probing, ¡°what¡¯s your take on it?¡±


    Kayvaan chuckled, downing another mouthful of ale. ¡°That¡¯s an interesting question. Not a smart one, but interesting.¡± He gestured toward the glass. ¡°Want some? Brewed on Agron Reach¡ªfinest drink this side of the Segmentum.¡±


    Jacob shook his head. ¡°Recaf suits me just fine.¡±


    ¡°Your loss,¡± Kayvaan replied, setting the glass down with a clink. He leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. ¡°You know, Jacob, we¡¯re just like canaries.¡±


    Jacob raised an eyebrow. ¡°Canaries?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kayvaan said with a dry laugh. ¡°Golden feathers, sweet songs¡ªfragile little creatures. Back in the Dark Age, miners used to send them into abandoned shafts. If the canary came back alive, it meant the air was safe. If not¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°Nobody ever asked the bird for its opinion, did they?¡±


    Jacob frowned, his cup forgotten for a moment. ¡°Even so, it¡¯s the right thing to do. We have a duty to those Guardsmen. Every day, countless souls give their lives for the Imperium. If it¡¯s our turn, we should accept it with honor.¡±


    Kayvaan smirked, swirling the frothy liquid in his glass. ¡°Honor? You¡¯re right, of course. Dying for the Imperium is our glorious destiny, isn¡¯t it?¡± He sighed, setting his glass down. ¡°But not everyone shares that view. Take Elizabeth, for example. Did you notice she only brought her personal retinue? That¡¯s because she doesn¡¯t have anything else¡ªno support, no resources. She¡¯s been exiled to this forgotten corner of the galaxy, and now she has to rely on us.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not popular,¡± Jacob remarked, taking a slow sip of recaf. ¡°The Sisters of Battle were never meant to be politicians. Too pious, too uncompromising. People mistrust zealots when it comes to nuanced decisions.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Kayvaan said bitterly. ¡°She¡¯s been discarded¡ªleft here to fade away while her peers jockey for power on Holy Terra. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But don¡¯t be fooled¡ªshe¡¯s using us. If this mission goes sideways, we¡¯ll be the ones buried in the rubble while she finds her escape route. She¡¯s expendable to the Inquisition, just like we¡¯re expendable to her.¡±


    Jacob set down his cup, his voice measured. ¡°And yet, she¡¯s here. That counts for something. Maybe there¡¯s still a glimmer of purpose driving her. Maybe this mission will give her the chance she needs to prove herself.¡±


    Kayvaan shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Hope, huh? Let¡¯s just say I¡¯d rather face a horde of greenskins than spend another hour with her breathing down my neck. If this mission gets her promoted¡ªor, Emperor willing, reassigned to the other side of the Segmentum¡ªI¡¯ll consider it a victory.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Jacob simply shrugged, his tone indifferent.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your plan?¡± he asked.


    Kayvaan leaned back in his chair. ¡°How¡¯s Darius progressing?¡±


    Jacob smirked faintly. ¡°The lad¡¯s shaping up well¡ªbetter than I expected. Honestly, it¡¯s as if he was born for the Astartes. The initial hypno-indoctrination went smoothly during transit, and most of his augmentations have been integrated without complications. He¡¯s cleared the physical evaluations, and he¡¯s now adapting to his new organs through training.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll take over his training,¡± Kayvaan said firmly.


    Jacob¡¯s brow arched. ¡°You¡¯re taking him to the battlefield already? Isn¡¯t that too soon? He¡¯s green as a Catachan sapling. Darius was just another spoiled noble from Terra. He¡¯s never killed, never fought xenos¡ªcertainly not Eldar Rangers.¡±


    Kayvaan drained the last of his ale, his expression dark. ¡°I know the risks, but we can¡¯t afford the luxury of gradual training. I¡¯ve been studying the Ordos¡¯ reports¡ªwe¡¯re dealing with Alaitoc Eldar. Their Rangers are outstanding even among their kind. Their usual strategy is infiltration, precision strikes, and prolonged harassment to cripple enemy lines. This suppression isn¡¯t their endgame¡ªit¡¯s the opening act. If my instincts are right, we¡¯re on the brink of something far bigger than a skirmish.¡±


    Jacob¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°A war?¡±


    Kayvaan nodded grimly. ¡°The winds are blowing, and the scent of war is thick. Alaitoc doesn¡¯t move without cause. The Inquisition wants prisoners¡ªalive. But you and I both know the Eldar won¡¯t suffer such an affront without retaliation. This will escalate, and it won¡¯t end quietly.¡±


    ¡°You think the Alaitoc will retaliate?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll have no choice,¡± Kayvaan said, his voice cold. ¡°The Inquisition¡¯s tactics are reckless as ever. Anyone they drag back is subjected to unspeakable fates¡ªdissected, interrogated, mind-scraped. To the Eldar, that¡¯s sacrilege. Alaitoc will strike back. Mark my words, it¡¯ll be fire and blood.¡±


    Jacob remained silent, processing the weight of his words. ¡°And the Inquisition?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re blinded by their objective. They¡¯ll keep pushing until the xenos lash out, and when that happens, it¡¯s us who¡¯ll pay the price.¡± Kayvaan shook his head. ¡°We need to prepare, strengthen our position. But don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m not throwing Darius into the jaws of Eldar Rangers. Not yet.¡± He paused. ¡°What¡¯s the status on the headquarters?¡±


    Jacob took the shift in topic as a cue. ¡°I¡¯ve shortlisted several systems. The Ferrum system stands out¡ªit¡¯s far more developed than the others. Agron Reach, specifically, has potential.¡±


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Agron Reach? It¡¯s an agri-world. Too serene, don¡¯t you think? The climate¡¯s practically idyllic year-round.¡±


    Jacob explained patiently. ¡°True, but the planet has pockets of harsh terrain¡ªenough to train initiates effectively. It also serves as a gateway to the Death World in the Reach system. If we need to push harder, we can send them there. For now, Agron Reach strikes the right balance: tough enough to forge warriors, but controlled enough to avoid breaking them too early.¡±


    Kayvaan considered it, then nodded. ¡°Fair reasoning. Very well. We¡¯ll pass Agron Reach in two days¡ªI¡¯ll drop you there along with Mechanicus Enginseer Bell. The fortress-monastery¡¯s construction will be your responsibility.¡±


    ¡°You can count on me, Lord Kayvaan.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now, where¡¯s Darius? I want to see his progress for myself.¡±


    Jacob sipped his recaf. ¡°Last I checked, he was in the chapel.¡±


    Kayvaan found Darius kneeling before the gilded statue of the God-Emperor, his posture rigid with strain, his lips silently moving in prayer. ¡°What are you doing, Darius?¡± Kayvaan asked, his voice level.


    Without turning, Darius replied, his voice strained. ¡°Praying, my lord. Asking the God-Emperor to grant me strength¡­ to forgive my sins¡­ to help me endure.¡±


    Kayvaan exhaled, stepping closer. ¡°Don¡¯t look for too much, Darius. The Emperor has already given you a warrior¡¯s body, the tools you need. Your struggles now? They¡¯re not His¡ªthey¡¯re yours. Learn to endure them yourself. The Emperor protects those who cannot fend for themselves. We, the strong, stand because we must. Now, end your prayers. Rise.¡±

 Chapter 60 - Launch It

    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t,¡± Darius whispered, his voice breaking. ¡°It hurts. My body feels like it¡¯s tearing itself apart.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Pain is a test¡ªone you must pass. The flesh may falter, but the mind decides whether you stand or fall. I¡¯m not asking¡ªI¡¯m ordering you. Stand up.¡±


    Darius clenched his jaw, his trembling hands pushing against the cold floor. With a strained groan and sweat pouring down his face, he forced himself upright, his body shaking violently.


    Kayvaan gave a small, approving nod. ¡°Good. Follow me.¡±


    Darius, still catching his breath, managed a weak but hopeful, ¡°Is there any good news, my lord?¡±


    "First of all, congratulations," Kayvaan said, his tone both encouraging and wryly amused. "You¡¯ve cleared the first, most grueling hurdle. Honestly, most of us¡ªmyself included¡ªdidn¡¯t expect you to make it this far. Many others have failed here, and not quietly. Some couldn¡¯t endure the agony of transformation and lost their minds, reduced to little more than drooling husks. Others suffered organ rejection and became little better than grotesque servitors.¡±


    Kayvaan placed a reassuring hand on Darius''s shoulder. "But don¡¯t worry about that. Your body has proven exceptional¡ªflawless, even. The tests confirm it. The pain you feel now is just your flesh adapting to the new implants. It will pass. My advice? Don¡¯t resist it¡ªembrace it. Learn to manage it, to turn it into strength. Pain is your Captain, Darius. If you master it now, the challenges you¡¯ll face later will feel like nothing."


    ¡°I will endure, Captain,¡± Darius replied, bowing his head.


    "Good. And drop the ¡®Your Excellency¡¯ nonsense. From now on, call me captain. You¡¯ve begun your true training, and for the next fifty years, you¡¯ll be a Knight-Aspirant under my care.¡±


    ¡°Knight-Aspirant?¡± Darius asked, tilting his head.


    Kayvaan nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the rank given to neophytes like you¡ªthose who have survived the trials but are still untested. After your fifty-year apprenticeship, you¡¯ll earn the rank of Knight and join the ranks of our Chapter¡¯s brethren as a full-fledged warrior of the Temple. But don¡¯t get ahead of yourself. This is only the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Fifty years¡­¡± Darius echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    Kayvaan chuckled. ¡°Fifty years is nothing, Darius. Compared to the lifetime that awaits you as an Astartes, it¡¯ll feel like a blink. Now come¡ªI¡¯ll show you the tools of our trade.¡±


    They arrived at the Chapter¡¯s training range, where rows of weapons gleamed under the dim lumen strips. ¡°Take a good look,¡± Kayvaan said, gesturing to the racks. ¡°These are the tools you¡¯ll wield as a warrior of the Emperor. Know them well¡ªwhether in your hands or an enemy¡¯s, ignorance can mean death.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it my all, Captain,¡± Darius said earnestly.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Good.¡± Kayvaan grabbed a standard lasgun from the rack and held it up. ¡°We¡¯ll start simple. This is a lasgun¡ªstandard-issue weapon for the Astra Militarum. A fine tool for the rank and file.¡± With a smooth motion, he field-stripped the weapon and reassembled it in moments before raising it to his shoulder. He fired a burst at a distant target, the red beam scorching the bullseye. The range¡¯s automated vox droned, ¡°10 rings.¡±


    ¡°This weapon fires a focused energy pulse powered by replaceable charge packs,¡± Kayvaan explained. ¡°No recoil, easy to aim. Against unarmored targets, it¡¯s efficient. But against something tougher¡ªan Ork, a Tyranid, or even basic power armor¡ªit¡¯s as useful as waving a glow-lamp at them. If you ever face Guardsmen wielding these, don¡¯t bother hiding. Walk right through their fire and deal with them up close.¡±


    Kayvaan returned the lasgun to the rack and picked up a far larger, brutal-looking weapon. ¡°This, however, is a boltgun. This is our weapon¡ªdesigned for Space Marines, by Space Marines.¡±


    He pulled a single bolt round from the magazine and held it up. ¡°Most primitive weapons fire bullets propelled by chemical explosives¡ªhigh-speed slugs. This, however, fires mass-reactive bolts. Miniature rockets, each packed with an explosive warhead. The boltgun doesn¡¯t just punch through flesh¡ªit detonates inside it.¡±


    Darius furrowed his brow. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t understand. A rocket?¡±


    Kayvaan smiled patiently. ¡°Think of it like this: every round fired from this gun is a tiny guided missile. It tears into the target, then explodes. That¡¯s why it¡¯s so devastating. But pay attention¡ªnever tamper with the ammunition. Bolts are volatile. Mishandling one during maintenance will result in your hands¡ªand your life¡ªbeing scattered across the deck.¡± Setting the boltgun aside, Kayvaan motioned Darius to the firing line. ¡°Enough theory. Time to test your aim. Be mindful of your stance¡ªthe boltgun has serious recoil. Fail to brace properly, and it¡¯ll knock you flat.¡±


    Despite the grueling lesson, Kayvaan felt a surprising satisfaction in the process. Darius was raw but quick to learn, and teaching him had its own rewards. Time passed swiftly, and before long, a chime echoed through the range¡ªthe Ebony Shadow had reached its destination.


    The bridge was taut with anticipation. The Ebony Shadow moved carefully into Aion¡¯s orbit, its crew scanning the void with meticulous focus. The atmosphere crackled with unease. Elizabeth had assured them the Eldar presence was limited¡ªno more than ten Rangers, with no enemy vessels in the system. Still, doubts lingered. Intelligence could fail, and failure in war meant death.


    The ship¡¯s captain guided the vessel with glacial precision, every movement deliberate. Auspex screens blinked and buzzed as the crew combed the system for signs of hostile craft. Every scan was double-checked. Every anomaly was analyzed. Finally, the vox crackled to life. ¡°All scans complete. Orbit clear¡ªno enemy ships detected.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded with satisfaction. "It seems our inquisitor''s intelligence was accurate. The enemy numbers are small, and there are no warships in orbit around the planet. The Eldar typically avoid deploying ships unless there''s a large-scale operation. They have their own ways of traversing the stars."


    The captain, standing by the control panel, turned to the crew on the bridge. "Stay sharp, everyone. We don¡¯t know where those crafty xenos might be hiding."


    Kayvaan folded his arms. "Let''s stick to the plan."


    "Understood, sir," the captain replied, saluting. He swiftly issued a series of commands. "Adjust the hull to a 45-degree angle. Begin a gradual descent into the outer cruising orbit of Aion."


    At the helm, the helmsman guided the Ebony Shadows, tilting the vessel like a descending swan. The mighty ship slid smoothly toward the planet. When the ship fully entered orbit, the adjutant called out, "We¡¯re in position."


    The captain nodded. "Stabilize the hull. Prep the ejection cabin and ready the Sky Eye for deployment."


    The crew responded in unison. "Sky Eye ready."


    "Launch it. Once deployment is complete, shut down the plasma furnace and switch to silent running."

 Chapter 61 - Peter!!!

    Moments later, the Sky Eye launched smoothly, its augur arrays linking seamlessly into the planet¡¯s orbit. The ship¡¯s systems dimmed as the plasma furnace powered down. The crew activated the light-baffles, counting down three minutes until the Ebony Shadows entered full silent mode.


    Three minutes passed. The Ebony Shadows became a ghost in the void, hidden by shadow and technology. The enemy would need blind luck to detect it unless they stumbled directly across its path.


    The captain reviewed the data on his panel before addressing Kayvaan. "Sir, we¡¯ve reached equatorial orbit. However, I must inform you we cannot provide immediate fire support from this position. I suggest shifting to geostationary orbit above the Fort Gallan. From there, we can deliver firepower on your command."


    Kayvaan waved him off. "We won¡¯t need it. What¡¯s the situation down there? Have we contacted Fort Gallan?"


    "We¡¯ve established contact. Would you like to speak with them?"


    "No need. Just tell them to have coffee ready. We¡¯re coming down." Kayvaan gave the captain a considering look. "By the way, what¡¯s your name?"


    "Grant, sir."


    Kayvaan nodded approvingly. "Good work, Grant. You keep the ship secure. I¡¯m heading down." Leaving the bridge, Kayvaan descended to the launch bay on the lower deck. There, a Thunderhawk transport gunship stood ready. Unlike its gunship counterparts, this one carried no weapons, stripped down to serve purely as a landing craft. Upgrades were an out-of-pocket luxury¡ªeither through throne gelt or earned merits. Gelt, unfortunately, was often the more reliable option.


    Kayvaan¡¯s squad was already inside, geared up and waiting. Elizabeth, sitting closest to the ramp, looked over calmly. "Are we starting?"


    "Everyone, strap in. We¡¯re going down." Kayvaan tapped his earpiece. "Iron Hawk, this is King of Knights. Squad aboard. Take us down."


    The comms crackled as the pilot replied, "Iron Hawk here. Welcome, everyone. This is Peter and Edmund at the helm. Belts tight and brace for turbulence."


    With a hiss, the Thunderhawk¡¯s hatch sealed. Massive mechanical arms descended from above, locking onto the craft with heavy thuds. Red warning lights flared, and the launch bay¡¯s floor split open, revealing the planet below. The arms extended, lowering the Thunderhawk before releasing it into open space. Inside the cabin, Kayvaan glanced at the young recruit beside him. "Nervous?"


    Darius stiffened in his seat, his hands gripping the straps across his chest. "No, Captain," he replied quickly, though the slight quaver in his voice betrayed him.


    Kayvaan¡¯s sharp gaze didn¡¯t miss a thing. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Then why are your hands clenched so tightly? You¡¯ll snap those straps if you¡¯re not careful."


    Darius stammered. "It¡¯s not fear! I¡¯m just¡­"


    Kayvaan chuckled. "Relax. It¡¯s your first mission, but don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m here. You¡¯ve got it easy, you know. Back in my day, we didn¡¯t have this luxury."


    Darius looked up. "Sir, do you mean the airborne capsules?"


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings."Exactly. Those coffins aren¡¯t a secret. You¡¯ll learn about them soon enough."


    "What were they like?" Darius asked, his curiosity betraying his nerves.


    "Exciting," Kayvaan said with a grin. "You¡¯ll see for yourself someday. Until then, here¡¯s a tip¡ªif you¡¯re jittery, focus on checking your gear."


    The temperature in the cabin began to rise noticeably. Darius glanced around nervously, but to his surprise, everyone else seemed unfazed, as if they hadn¡¯t noticed the increasing warmth. He wiped his damp palms on his trousers and looked at Kayvaan suspiciously. ¡°We¡¯re entering the atmosphere,¡± Kayvaan explained, his tone casual. ¡°It¡¯ll feel warm for a bit, but there¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    The Iron Hawk plunged into the planet¡¯s atmosphere like a blazing meteor, streaking diagonally across the sky with trails of molten fire. This wasn¡¯t an accident¡ªit was deliberate. The descent was a basic evasion tactic, meant to trick any observers into dismissing them as debris from orbit. As the gunship hurtled downward, the portholes revealed fleeting glimpses of land and jagged mountains growing steadily larger beneath the churning white clouds. The view was breathtaking, though the sensation of plummeting headfirst toward the surface made Darius¡¯s stomach lurch. It felt as though the very ground of Holy Terra was rushing up to punish him for his sins.


    Darius¡¯s face turned pale, and his knuckles turned white on the armrests. Opposite him, Inquisitor Elizabeth frowned, her usual poise faltering just slightly. Even she looked displeased¡ªthis was not how a Thunderhawk was supposed to fly.


    The craft tore through the lower atmosphere, gaining speed with every moment, until it seemed inevitable they would crash. At the very last moment¡ªbarely a hundred meters above the ground¡ªthe Iron Hawk suddenly pulled up hard. The engines howled as the tail belched streams of cerulean flame. The craft still dropped under its immense weight, skimming so close to the surface that Darius swore he could see individual leaves on the treetops. Then, in one final defiance of physics, the ship¡¯s nose pitched upward, its descent arrested at the final moment.


    Inside the cabin, the tension shattered. Every man and woman exhaled together, even Kayvaan and the hardened Sisters of Battle. The near-disaster had rattled even the most stoic among them. Elizabeth, however, was far from impressed. Her frown deepened as she muttered a short litany beneath her breath before her expression shifted entirely. Her eyes widened with sudden realization.


    ¡°It¡¯s a miracle,¡± she said softly, her voice trembling with reverence. ¡°If we had dropped just five meters lower, we would have perished. The God-Emperor Himself is watching over us. His divine hand guides our path.¡±


    The Sisters of Battle, visibly moved, shouted in unison, ¡°The Emperor protects!¡±


    The cabin filled with fervor as the Sisters¡¯ faith ignited like an unquenchable flame. The squad of nuns looked ready to march into the eye of the Warp itself, their zeal unshakable. Elizabeth, sensing their energy, gave a small nod of approval but tempered it with a stern warning. ¡°We must remain vigilant,¡± she said firmly. ¡°Faith does not excuse recklessness. The pilots must be reminded of their duty to those aboard.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed and rubbed his temple. ¡°Leave that to me.¡± He tapped his earpiece and growled, ¡°What in the name of Dorn do you think you¡¯re doing up there? Have you lost your mind?¡±


    A calm, unnervingly monotone voice replied, ¡°Captain, please remain calm.¡±


    ¡°Calm? Calm?! My squad nearly died because my pilot thinks he¡¯s performing for a hive carnival. Where did the Mechanicus find you lunatics? I swear, when we land¡ª¡±


    The voice cut him off, still maddeningly level. ¡°Captain, the ship is under control.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re threatening me now?¡± Kayvaan¡¯s voice dropped into a dangerous growl. ¡°Are you threatening your commanding officer?¡±


    Another voice, noticeably more nervous, chimed in. ¡°Captain, it¡¯s Edmund¡ªthe co-pilot. This is all Peter¡¯s fault! I swear! Don¡¯t shoot me¡ªI didn¡¯t touch anything! He¡¯s the one flying!¡±


    ¡°Coward,¡± Peter muttered. ¡°Captain, this isn¡¯t my fault. The Iron Hawk has a spirit, and I respect it. The machine spirit likes flying this way¡ªit demands it. I¡¯m merely cooperating. And we did arrive in one piece, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper of barely contained fury. ¡°There are important people on this ship, Peter. They don¡¯t appreciate your... technique. And they¡¯re all women.¡±

 Chapter 62 - Marlborough

    ¡°Important women?¡± Peter asked, sounding intrigued. ¡°The machine spirit doesn¡¯t care about rank or gender, Captain.¡±


    ¡°One of them,¡± Kayvaan hissed, ¡°is an inquisitor. And her escort consists of a squad of Sisters of Battle.¡±


    There was a loud thunk from the cockpit. ¡°What was that?¡± Kayvaan barked.


    Edmund¡¯s panicked voice answered. ¡°Captain, Peter fainted. I¡¯m flying now. We¡¯ll land shortly.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Kayvaan said flatly. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a very long discussion once we land. Now take us to the drop site.¡±


    The Iron Hawk skimmed the canopy, its engines droning like a chorus of engines whispering prayers to the Omnissiah. Suddenly, with a hiss, the side hatch slid open. A rush of wind tore through the cabin, though no one jumped and nothing was deployed. The door closed again after a moment, leaving Darius bewildered. ¡°What was that?¡± he asked.


    Kayvaan shrugged. ¡°Just getting some fresh air.¡±


    ________________


    The Cadian 101st Regiment was once a proud and renowned unit. Its soldiers were just ordinary people who had undergone rigorous military training. They weren¡¯t genetically enhanced like the Space Marines, nor did they possess the fanatical zeal of the Adepta Sororitas. They didn¡¯t receive the God-Emperor¡¯s blessings, nor did they wield devastating psychic powers. They were simply human.


    Before enlisting, these soldiers came from all walks of life. Some were hardworking farmers, others were miners laboring deep underground, and a few were fresh-faced schola graduates ready to step into society. But there was one thing that set them apart¡ªthey were from Cadia. Growing up on Cadia was a different experience. It was often said that Cadian children could disassemble and reassemble a lasgun blindfolded by the age of five. Their first books were military manuals, and they were taught combat drills before they could even walk properly. Cadia didn¡¯t just raise citizens; it raised warriors.


    Now, under the banner of the God-Emperor, these ordinary people left their previous lives behind. Farmers put down their tools, miners left their shafts, and graduates abandoned their dreams. They picked up their weapons, marching together under the flag of the Cadian 101st Regiment to fight for humanity¡¯s survival. And then they were defeated.


    It happened on a lush, picturesque world. Marlborough, the regiment¡¯s deputy commander, remembered it vividly. It was spring¡ªbright and peaceful, with fresh rain that nourished the land. But this tranquility was shattered by an unrelenting nightmare: the green-skinned Orks.


    The Orks weren¡¯t a metaphorical plague; they were a literal one. Like fungal growth after rain, they emerged from the ground, spreading across the land. Every soldier in the 41st millennium knew about Orks. These creatures weren¡¯t born like humans. Biologis theorized that Orks were an unnatural hybrid of animal and plant matter, allowing them to grow directly out of the soil. Their green skin came from chlorophyll, enabling them to photosynthesize like plants.


    This wasn¡¯t just terrifying¡ªit was absurdly unfair. Bury an Ork in winter, and by spring, an entire warband might sprout in your backyard, ready to wreak havoc. How could such abominations exist in the Emperor¡¯s universe? Yet, here they were: violent, cunning, and impossibly durable. Orks were the embodiment of war. Stronger than bulls, craftier than vermin, and tougher than a plague of cockroaches, they were destruction incarnate. For them, fighting wasn¡¯t just a necessity¡ªit was their purpose.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Cadian 101st had been sent to confront this menace, but due to an intelligence failure, they arrived too late. The Orks had already grown into a massive horde. From the moment the first shots were fired, the regiment found itself locked in a brutal, unrelenting battle. The soldiers¡¯ lasguns were pitifully underpowered against the Orks'' sheer resilience. A single lasgun shot rarely did more than scorch an Ork¡¯s hide; it often took three to five direct hits to bring one down. Against the larger, tougher Nobz, even more firepower was needed. The regiment fought valiantly, but it was like trying to stop a green avalanche with pebbles.


    The battlefield became a slaughterhouse. The Orks charged with reckless abandon, turning the conflict into a grinding war of attrition. The Cadian 101st was hopelessly outmatched. Their regimental commander, a man Marlborough deeply respected, was killed in a gruesome manner. An Ork wielding what appeared to be a rusty cleaver¡ªThrone knew where it found one¡ªsplit the commander¡¯s skull in half, exposing a grotesque cross-section of his brain.


    The political commissar fared no better. He executed over a dozen soldiers during the battle, claiming they had shown signs of cowardice. Yet many suspected that these ¡°cowards¡± were simply victims of the commissar¡¯s paranoia. Regardless, the public executions did boost morale for a time. However, when the regiment began its retreat, a lasbolt from the rear struck the commissar, melting his knee. Perhaps it was a stray shot, or perhaps it wasn¡¯t¡ªMarlborough couldn¡¯t say. Still, the commissar stoically volunteered to cover the retreat, limping back toward the advancing Orks. His defiant shouts and the sound of gunfire echoed into the night until they were silenced forever.


    By the end of the battle, the regiment was shattered. Half of its soldiers were dead or missing. All heavy weaponry had been abandoned during the retreat. The Cadian 101st was no longer a fighting force; it was a broken shell of its former self. With no choice left, the remnants of the regiment were reassigned to a desolate border fortress, far from the frontlines.


    The soldiers of the Cadian 101st Regiment were supposed to have some well-deserved rest and recovery time. They were ordinary men and women. Soldiers who had just endured fierce battles needed time to heal their physical and emotional wounds, catch their breath in a safe place, and prepare themselves for whatever new challenges awaited on the next battlefield.


    But fate had other plans. Just as they were trying to regroup, they encountered an Eldar Ranger¡ªa sniper of elite caliber. For any army, encountering a sniper is among the most difficult scenarios to deal with. Snipers are ghosts, striking fear and chaos into their targets. There are typically only two ways to deal with them: one is to send out a sniper of your own to hunt them down, and the other is to use artillery to obliterate the area where they¡¯re hiding. A bombardment might lack accuracy, but it ensures no sniper, no matter how skilled, can remain hidden.


    Unfortunately for the 101st, they had neither option. They¡¯d lost all their heavy weapons in the last engagement, and the fortress¡¯s arsenal had been sabotaged¡ªthe guns rendered useless. Even their sharpshooters had been casualties of war. Morale was at rock bottom, and this battered half-regiment of over 500 soldiers had no choice but to cower behind the thick walls of Fort Gallan, calling desperately for reinforcements.


    When the rescue finally arrived, the sight on the tarmac didn¡¯t inspire much hope. The soldiers who weren¡¯t on duty stood in two neat rows, forming a half-hearted welcoming party. Deputy Commander Marlborough was among them, silently praying that only the Astra Militarum reinforcements had come. Anything but a political commissar, he thought. The last thing they needed was someone passing judgment on their sorry state, perhaps even carrying out summary executions for cowardice.


    But when the airship¡¯s doors opened, Marlborough¡¯s heart sank further. The passengers weren¡¯t commissars¡ªthey were far worse. Inquisitors and Adepta Sororitas in full power armor stepped out, their presence radiating authority and intimidation.


    Marlborough¡¯s nerves betrayed him. He blurted out a question he¡¯d regret later: ¡°Why are you here? Aren¡¯t you with the Militarum reinforcements?¡±

 Chapter 63 - The Easy Way

    The lead Sister of Battle, a stern woman named Elizabeth, arched an eyebrow at the remark. Her cold, commanding tone cut through the air. ¡°They disembarked earlier. You must be Marlborough. Let¡¯s find a private room to talk. There¡¯s much we need to discuss, Deputy Commander.¡±


    While this was happening, far away in the jungle, Kayvaan and Darius were carrying out their mission. Earlier, the Valkyrie transport had hovered just above the treetops. The moment the hatch opened, the two scouts leapt out, disappearing into the dense canopy. By the time their boots hit the ground, they were invisible, thanks to the advanced camo-cloaks they wore. These holy garments, paired with their black bodygloves, made it almost impossible to spot them, even if someone stood a few feet away.


    ¡°Captain, are you there?¡± Darius¡¯s voice came through the vox-link, low and steady.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Kayvaan replied. ¡°Switch to the new variable frequency band for our communication. I¡¯ve sent the channel details to your link.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°Good. Switch now,¡± Kayvaan instructed. A brief burst of static filled their earpieces before the connection stabilized again. ¡°Testing, testing. Can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Loud and clear,¡± Darius confirmed.


    ¡°Perfect. Let¡¯s begin. Check your equipment,¡± Kayvaan ordered.


    Darius pressed his back against a large tree trunk, pulling the camo-cloak tighter around him for additional cover. Carefully, he began a meticulous inspection of his gear, piece by piece.


    Kayvaan, ever the pragmatist, was obsessed with equipment. He believed that the defining trait of humanity wasn¡¯t just intelligence but the ability to wield tools. For him, superior equipment could compensate for any disadvantage in strength or skill. He often referenced the Mechanicus creed: ¡°The flesh is weak, but the machine endures.¡±


    Every mission demanded customized tools, and Kayvaan ensured no detail was overlooked. For this particular operation, he¡¯d equipped Darius with a Stalker-pattern bolter, modified for long-range engagements and fitted with a high-powered scope. The weapon, while simpler than the armaments used by veteran marksmen, was still a challenge for an inexperienced Neophyte.


    Darius had been training relentlessly with it, spending hours each day disassembling and reassembling the bolter, practicing his aim on the range, and running simulations under Kayvaan¡¯s watchful eye. Despite his dedication, he was still struggling to master its full potential. The bolter¡¯s effective range extended to over a kilometer¡ªfar beyond what Darius was accustomed to.


    Next was a black-painted carbon steel combat knife, razor-sharp and capable of piercing flak armor. Darius also carried a compact med-kit containing silk sutures, a small tool hook, and a box of spray-on coagulant agent. The kit also included stim-pens and three detoxification phials¡ªrare and valuable items that could neutralize most toxins.


    Additional gear included spare power cells for their stealth systems, three remote-controlled det-packs rigged to release a potent gas capable of sedating a grox, and a silenced autopistol loaded with toxin-coated rounds. Each tool had been chosen with care, ensuring they were ready for anything. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Inspection complete. All equipment is working perfectly.¡±


    Kayvaan chuckled, his tone relaxed. ¡°A good start is half the battle, as they say. And we¡¯ve got a good start. Now, stick to my instructions and head southwest. Stay low, watch your step, and leave no trace. Remember, we¡¯re dealing with an Eldar Ranger here. They can kill you before you even realize they¡¯re there.¡±


    Darius moved cautiously through the dense jungle, but it was far from easy. Every step seemed to betray him¡ªbranches snagged his gear, brittle twigs crunched underfoot, and the rustling grass left an unmistakable trail. Even startled birds fleeing into the canopy made him cringe.


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice came through his vox-link, half amused and half exasperated. ¡°Darius, you might as well carry a big, bright banner that says, ¡®Here I am! Please, shoot me!¡¯ Can¡¯t you move a little quieter? And watch your feet! What was that? Did you grow ogryn feet overnight? Breaking a branch like that in a jungle is like firing a flare¡ªit¡¯s loud enough to wake the dead. Even a half-deaf scout could find you.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Captain,¡± Darius replied sheepishly. ¡°I¡¯ll try harder.¡±


    ¡°Not just try harder,¡± Kayvaan said, his voice turning cold. ¡°Try to stay alive. The Eldar Ranger isn¡¯t just some sniper; they¡¯re an expert. And they love picking off amateurs like you.¡±


    Darius swallowed hard. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll have to fight?¡±


    Kayvaan snorted. ¡°Fight? You¡¯ve been training for what¡ªa month? Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves. Don¡¯t underestimate the enemy. Just because they aren¡¯t human doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re stupid. On the contrary, they¡¯re far more cunning than you can imagine. You¡¯re not ready for combat¡ªespecially not sniper warfare. For now, just watch, listen, learn, and ask questions. That¡¯s your mission this time.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Captain,¡± Darius said, pressing forward. ¡°But¡­ I have a question.¡±


    ¡°Then ask it. Don¡¯t waste time.¡±


    ¡°Is it really safe for us to talk like this?¡±


    ¡°Do you think your full-face helmet vox is some cheap knockoff? Don¡¯t worry. As long as we¡¯re not directly in front of the enemy, talking quietly won¡¯t get us killed.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Darius hesitated before continuing. ¡°What exactly is our goal? Are we just here to attack the Eldar from behind, capture a few, and leave?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice held a note of approval. ¡°Good question. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re thinking ahead. I already explained the mission details¡ªso, tell me. What do you think? Should we help the Inquisitor capture a few Eldar, scare off the rest, and let the Mechanicus magi get back to their archaeology?¡±


    Darius frowned. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. Something feels off about all this.¡±


    ¡°More than just off¡ªit¡¯s downright strange,¡± Kayvaan muttered. ¡°What are the Eldar really up to? If they wanted this planet, they wouldn¡¯t just send a few Rangers. A few dozen of them couldn¡¯t hold this place even if they wiped out every Imperial soldier here. And if they¡¯re trying to lure reinforcements, their bait is pathetic. A border world like this? No one important cares about Fort Gallan. And the Rangers¡ªthey¡¯ve just trapped the defense forces inside without doing anything noteworthy. So, what¡¯s their endgame?¡±


    Darius asked quietly, ¡°Then¡­ what¡¯s our plan?¡±


    ¡°We find out,¡± Kayvaan said firmly. ¡°Making the right call depends on solid intel. Without it, even the best strategist is just guessing. That¡¯s our job as scouts¡ªto gather intel. Now let¡¯s figure out what those Eldar are up to.¡±


    With a clear objective, Darius felt a little steadier. Soldiers were trained to focus on the goal, and once that was set, the rest boiled down to execution. ¡°To figure out what the Eldar are doing, we have a few options,¡± Kayvaan continued. ¡°First, we can grab one and interrogate them. It¡¯s simple and effective¡ªwhen it works. The problem is, Eldar are stubborn, and getting them to talk usually takes someone like Inquisitor Elizabeth.¡±


    Darius nodded, though Kayvaan couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°What¡¯s the second option?¡±


    ¡°Track one of them,¡± Kayvaan said. ¡°If we follow them long enough, we¡¯re bound to learn something. But that¡¯s easier said than done. Tracking an Eldar Ranger is like chasing a shadow in a hurricane. Still, it¡¯s worth trying. If we succeed, the intel will be far more reliable than anything we get through torture.¡±


    Kayvaan paused before adding, ¡°And then there¡¯s the easy way.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

 Chapter 64 - Fury

    Kayvaan tapped the small auspex terminal on his wrist, connecting to the Sky-Eye orbital relay system. ¡°We use the four Adeptus Mechanicus surveillance satellites orbiting the planet. Let¡¯s take a look at the aerial view of Fort Gallan¡­ Oh, perfect timing. Elizabeth and her team just landed. Look at that resolution. It¡¯s clear as day.¡±


    The display revealed a live feed of the area. Kayvaan zoomed in, scanning the surroundings. Kayvaan never expected to actually find something. He was fully aware of who the other party was. A skilled sniper could blend into their surroundings using the simplest tools. Unless someone specifically looked for them, they would walk right past without noticing the well-camouflaged figure. And these weren¡¯t just snipers¡ªthese were Eldar Rangers, masters of stealth and secrecy.


    Spotting a Ranger hiding in the jungle through an orbiting satellite was about as likely as hitting the jackpot in a hive-world lottery. Kayvaan''s attempt wasn¡¯t out of genuine belief he¡¯d succeed; it was more of a teaching exercise for Darius. He wanted the young man to learn how to utilize the unit¡¯s equipment effectively and creatively. ¡°Hmm, this is strange,¡± Kayvaan said, squinting at the monitor. ¡°Darius, do you see it too?¡±


    ¡°I see it, Captain. The image is clear,¡± Darius replied, his enhanced goggles displaying the same feed from the Sky-Eye relay. ¡°But¡­ are they fighting? And who are they fighting?¡±


    The Rangers themselves weren¡¯t visible in the high-altitude footage, but their sniper rifle shots left a telltale sign: brilliant blue energy trails slicing through the air. Each shot left behind a glowing streak of light that lingered briefly in the jungle¡¯s dense canopy. It was strange enough that the Eldar Rangers were engaging in combat while keeping the Imperial Guard pinned down at Fort Gallan, but stranger still was the question of who¡ªor what¡ªthey were fighting in the depths of the jungle.


    Even more bizarre, the energy trails didn¡¯t seem to be aimed at some external enemy. The trajectories suggested the Rangers were firing at¡­ each other? ¡°I don¡¯t get it. What are these xenos thinking?¡± Kayvaan muttered. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take a closer look. But this means I won¡¯t have time to babysit you, Darius.¡±


    Kayvaan quickly marked a random point deep in the jungle on the map, far from Fort Gallan, and turned to Darius. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. This is your one-month jungle survival training. Your goal is to reach this point in thirty days. The coordinates are already loaded into your map. The Valkyrie will be there to pick you up at the end. If you¡¯re not there by then, they¡¯ll leave without you. So don¡¯t be late.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, Kayvaan activated the timer and said, ¡°Start now. This channel is closed, and the team is disbanded. I¡¯ve got work to do.¡± With that, Kayvaan vanished into the jungle, leaving Darius standing alone.


    Back at the fortress, Elizabeth was fuming. Kayvaan had completely disregarded the original plan and gone off on his own. Her angry voice crackled through the vox-link for a full hour, cycling through every insult she could think of. She started with questioning Kayvaan''s intelligence, moved on to speculating about his mother¡¯s lineage¡ªwhether she was part Ork or something worse¡ªand finally settled on accusing him of heresy against the God-Emperor himself.


    The original plan had been straightforward. Kayvaan and Darius were supposed to disembark halfway to scout while Elizabeth and her team continued to Fort Gallan. Once Kayvaan reached the designated position, Elizabeth would lead the defense forces out of the fortress in a charge against the hidden Rangers.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Of course, the charge wasn¡¯t expected to succeed. With no clear knowledge of the Rangers¡¯ positions, it would be a suicide mission. Everyone knew that. But the Guardsmen¡¯s deaths wouldn¡¯t be in vain.


    The energy trails left by the Eldar weapons would reveal the Rangers¡¯ approximate locations. Even the greenest recruits could spot the glowing streaks through the air. Using the Guardsmen as bait, Kayvaan could then pinpoint the Rangers¡¯ hiding spots and take them out with tranq-rounds, capturing them alive.


    It was a simple, practical plan with a strong chance of success. In sniper-versus-sniper combat, the winner is usually the one who spots and takes the first shot. The plan positioned Kayvaan in the perfect place to remain unseen and strike first.


    If everything had gone smoothly, Kayvaan would have captured the Rangers, securing the Fort Gallan. Elizabeth would deliver the prisoners to higher command, earning recognition for her leadership and potentially securing a return to her rightful place in the Imperium. It was a win-win situation.


    But now, thanks to Kayvaan¡¯s impromptu decision, everything was thrown off course. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± Elizabeth barked over the vox-link. ¡°Do you even care about the mission? What the Eldar are doing out there has nothing to do with us!¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice came back, calm but tinged with curiosity. ¡°Drink some water and relax, Elizabeth. But seriously, aren¡¯t you even a little curious? Why are the Eldar doing this? Suppressing Fort Gallan while fighting in the jungle? And it looks like they¡¯re fighting among themselves. That¡¯s not normal. I thought you¡¯d want to know why.¡±


    "I''m really not interested at all, and frankly, I suggest you don''t get curious either," Inquisitor Elizabeth said bluntly. "This kind of curiosity will get you killed sooner or later. If we need answers, we¡¯ll extract them from prisoners. Under the care of the Inquisition, they¡¯ll confess everything, no matter how much they wish to keep it buried. What you''re doing now? It¡¯s futile. Besides, understanding what the Eldar want or why they do what they do? Irrelevant. Our orders are clear: capture as many as possible, purge the rest, and scour their stain from this world entirely.¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s voice remained calm but resolute. ¡°They¡¯re killing each other. There has to be a reason.¡±


    Elizabeth scoffed. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just their twisted culture, like how we cleanse our weapons after battle. Or perhaps they¡¯re naturally drawn to slaughter. The Eldar are deceitful, scheming, and entirely devoid of honor. They cannot be trusted, and nothing they do should surprise us.¡±


    ¡°Come on, we both know this isn¡¯t normal,¡± Kayvaan countered, unyielding.


    Elizabeth¡¯s tone sharpened, her frustration unmistakable. ¡°By the Throne, Kayvaan, they¡¯re xenos. Foul abominations. How can you expect anything but deceit and treachery from creatures born outside the Emperor¡¯s light? Their very existence is a stain upon the galaxy.


    Kayvaan didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I¡¯ll figure out why they¡¯re doing this,¡± he said firmly. ¡°And just to remind you¡ªthis isn¡¯t a suggestion. Elizabeth, who¡¯s in command of this operation?¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s jaw tightened, her voice dripping with venom as she ground out the truth. ¡°You are.¡±


    This had been decided long before the campaign began. In matters of war, there could only be one authority. Despite her strong disapproval of Kayvaan¡¯s methods, Elizabeth had no choice but to follow his orders. For now. ¡°Good,¡± Kayvaan said with audible smugness. ¡°Then here¡¯s my next order: shut up. I¡¯ve had enough of your complaining. You¡¯re worse than a hive-world crone.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s fury erupted. With a roar of frustration, she slammed the communicator, the device splintering under her fist. The link cut, just as Kayvaan had expected. In the fortress command room, Deputy Captain Marlborough froze mid-sip, his coffee nearly spilling as he bore unwilling witness to the argument. The tension in the air was stifling, and the man felt trapped in the blast radius of two giants at war.

 Chapter 65 - Syladria

    Suddenly, Elizabeth¡¯s wrath boiled over completely. With a snarl, she wrenched the communicator free and smashed it into oblivion. Marlborough flinched violently as she drew her bolt pistol and emptied rounds into the shattered remains. The deafening thunder of bolts discharging tore through the room, pulverizing both the equipment and the wall behind it.


    Nearby guards scrambled, ducking for cover or cautiously peeking around corners. Fear rippled through the ranks; none wished to draw the Inquisitor¡¯s attention. The Sisters of Battle, however, remained unfazed, sparing little more than a glance before resuming their work with the discipline of the faithful. Marlborough, still in his seat, felt like prey trapped before a predator. Summoning his courage, he stammered, ¡°Uh¡­ ma¡¯am¡­ is everything¡ªuh¡ªalright?¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s glare could have melted steel. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong. The plan has changed. Order the stormtroopers to stand down and await further commands.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am! Right away!¡± Marlborough practically sprang from his chair, eager to escape the suffocating tension. ¡°Do you require replacement vox units?¡±


    Elizabeth holstered her pistol and dusted off her scorched coat. ¡°Obviously. Have it replaced immediately.¡±


    ¡°Understood, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ll see to it.¡± Marlborough fled with haste, barking orders to the stunned soldiers outside, relieved to leave the furious Inquisitor behind.


    Elizabeth folded her arms, her anger still simmering as she muttered to herself, her thoughts lost in quiet fury. The sound of crumbling plaster was the only noise that remained.


    From the shadows, nervous guards exchanged glances. They had seen war. They had faced monsters. But the wrath of an Inquisitor was something else entirely. One young recruit whispered, ¡°Remind me never to get on her bad side.¡±


    A grim-faced veteran beside him didn¡¯t look away. ¡°If you do, you won¡¯t live to regret it.¡±


    Time pased on, Kayvaan had been tracking his target for three days. Through the scope of his sniper rifle, he patiently observed the Eldar rangers from a safe distance. His meticulous surveillance continued for another three days, and yet he had gained little more than an understanding of the brutal game unfolding before him.


    The jungle was alive with silent battles, quiet deaths. The Eldar moved like phantoms, their movements elegant and deadly. Kayvaan''s scope revealed a small team of rangers led by a single leader, totaling four individuals in his line of sight. Judging by their coordination, there were likely at least two such teams¡ªtwelve rangers in total. Three days ago, there had been sixteen.


    In that time, five Eldar rangers had fallen, their lifeless bodies marked by the precision of energy arrow wounds. The battlefield bore no signs of crude human weaponry¡ªonly the distinct marks of Eldar technology. This was a war fought in shadows, ranger against ranger, and the line between hunter and prey shifted constantly. From what Kayvaan could tell, the supposed pursuers were barely holding their own.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Lying motionless in the underbrush, Kayvaan''s optical camouflage blended seamlessly with the jungle''s greens and browns. His breathing was steady, his body still. He was a ghost in the foliage, watching, waiting.


    Finally, he decided to act. Slipping the rifle onto his back, he began a slow and deliberate approach. Every step was calculated, every movement silent. With the aid of his advanced stealth equipment, he glided through the jungle like a wraith, unseen and unheard. He closed the distance until he was directly behind one of the Eldar. In an instant, he pounced, one hand clamping over her chin, tilting it upward. The other pressed the edge of a dagger against her throat. His voice was low, steady, but tinged with mockery. "Hello, Eldar. What¡¯s so special about me?"


    The Eldar froze for a moment before replying, her voice lilting and musical, even in Gothic. "To sneak up on me like this... are you a human or a ghost?"


    Kayvaan allowed the blade to press against her armor, the tip grazing her pale skin. "Flattering me now seems a bit late, don''t you think?"


    "If this is how we begin a conversation, then perhaps it¡¯s not too late," she answered smoothly. "Put away your blade, human. I invite you to talk with words, not weapons. If you wish to kill me, then do so. But if you seek understanding, then speak. Surely, you¡¯re not so foolish as to be unaware of who your true enemy is?"


    Kayvaan hesitated but eventually withdrew his dagger. "I¡¯ll admit, I don¡¯t really know who the enemy is. To me, all Eldar look the same¡ªfragile, like bean sprouts. You probably don¡¯t know what bean sprouts are, but they¡¯re delicate plants that snap with the slightest pressure. Now, tell me, oh mighty bean sprout, what do you want to talk about?"


    The Eldar turned to face him, removing her helmet with deliberate grace. Her face was breathtaking¡ªsmooth, pale skin, light blue eyes as clear as a mountain lake, and long platinum hair cascading past her shoulders. Her lips, a delicate shade of red, curled into a faint smile. Were it not for her slightly pointed ears, Kayvaan might have mistaken her for a mere human. "I am Syladria Sha''eillanis," she announced, her voice carrying an air of ethereal grace and unmistakable authority. "And you, mon-keigh, could at least show some semblance of courtesy. Remove your helmet and let us speak face-to-face."


    Kayvaan studied her closely. Her elegant Eldar armor hugged her form, accentuating her lithe figure. Her sniper rifle and sleek blade suggested anything but peace. She was both alluring and dangerous¡ªa deadly flower blooming in the heart of the jungle. Shrugging off his hesitation, Kayvaan removed his helmet. "Fine. I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯ve never seen an Eldar up close before. You look... very human."


    Syladria¡¯s eyes sparkled with amusement as she tilted her head. "And you, human, look quite Eldar. I¡¯ve never seen a warrior as fair or as handsome as you among your kind. If you were Eldar, perhaps we could even be friends." Her smile turned sharper. "But don¡¯t be mistaken. While your ancestors were still crawling from the primordial muck, we Eldar had already mastered the stars. Whatever similarities you see are mere accidents of evolution. We are not the same."


    Kayvaan smirked, unbothered by her words. "I¡¯m fine with that. Honestly, I¡¯ve been called too pretty to be a warrior anyway. People mistake me for some kind of performer or ask how much I charge for¡ªwell, never mind that."


    Syladria regarded Kayvaan with a mix of disdain and pity, her voice carrying an air of condescension. ¡°Mon-keigh¡­ barbaric and vulgar. War, killing, bloodshed, death¡ªthese are not mere acts of violence but forms of art. Beauty exists even in destruction. As a warrior, you shouldn¡¯t abandon the pursuit of beauty. Fighting may be your duty, but appreciating beauty speaks to your character and refinement.¡±


    ¡°Is this why you pulled me out of the shadows?¡± Kayvaan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Not entirely,¡± Syladria replied, tilting her head slightly, her tone cold but deliberate. ¡°I wanted to tell you who your real enemy is.¡±


    ¡°Please enlighten me.¡±

 Chapter 66 - The Eldar Offer

    Syladria¡¯s expression hardened as she began. ¡°Rosina Sha''eillanis, my former sister in arms¡­ my only sister, in fact. She was the brightest star of Alaitoc, a genius among our people. She walked many paths with ease: Fire Dragon, Howling Banshee, Dark Reaper, Shining Spear, Ranger, even Farseer.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned, interrupting her flow. ¡°Those words mean nothing to me. Fire Dragon? Howling Banshee? Sounds like something out of a bad holo-drama. All I know is you¡¯re rangers.¡±


    Syladria sighed, her irritation showing. ¡°Typical human ignorance. Allow me to educate you. We, the Eldar, are superior to your kind in every way. Smarter, faster, and more refined. Our hearts beat twice as quickly as yours, and our reaction times are unmatched. Ordinary humans can¡¯t even track us in combat.¡±


    Kayvaan smirked. ¡°I nearly slit your throat a few moments ago.¡±


    Her expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°You¡¯re no ordinary human. Even so, the basics I¡¯m sharing should prove valuable to you. Would you like me to continue, or would you prefer to interrupt again?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Kayvaan replied with a shrug, though his patience was wearing thin.


    Syladria resumed. ¡°We are born with psionic energy, the core of our civilization. It allows us to channel immense power, but it comes with a cost. Unlike humans, our emotions are heightened¡ªjoy, despair, love, hatred¡­ every feeling is magnified. The thrill of battle, the satisfaction of mastering a skill, the pleasure of beauty¡ªthese can all become intoxicating.¡±


    Kayvaan crossed his arms, his skepticism obvious. ¡°So you¡¯re saying your emotions can kill you?¡±


    ¡°Not metaphorically, no,¡± Syladria said, her tone somber. ¡°Our ancestors fell victim to their indulgences. They reveled in excess, and from their hedonism, the Chaos God Slaanesh was born¡ªthe Lady of Thirst, the destroyer of our race. When she emerged, she consumed most of our people¡¯s souls. Only a few of us, the exiles, escaped. But she hunts us still, and we fight to resist her, to survive until either she is destroyed or the last Eldar breathes their final breath.¡±


    ¡°And this¡­ corruption you speak of, it¡¯s why your people follow these so-called paths?¡± Kayvaan asked, intrigued despite himself.


    Syladria nodded. ¡°Yes. To avoid falling into depravity, every Eldar dedicates themselves to a single discipline, a single path. It becomes their life¡¯s focus, suppressing their baser instincts. These paths guide us away from the temptation of excess and prevent Slaanesh from claiming our souls.¡±


    She hesitated before continuing, her voice tinged with sorrow. ¡°Rosina Windwhisper was a master of many paths. The Path of the Fire Dragon made her a master of melta weapons, turning flame into her ally on the battlefield. As a Howling Banshee, her dual swords cut through enemies with ease, her war cry capable of disorienting even the most disciplined foe. The Path of the Dark Reaper gave her unmatched proficiency with heavy weaponry, raining death from afar. As a Shining Spear, she soared above the battlefield, striking with unparalleled speed. And as a Ranger, she was a ghost in the shadows, impossible to track.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Kayvaan let out a low whistle. ¡°She sounds like a one-woman army.¡±


    ¡°She was,¡± Syladria admitted. ¡°But her brilliance wasn¡¯t limited to the battlefield. Rosina was kind, gentle¡ªa beacon of what we aspire to be. I can¡¯t fathom how she fell, yet she did. Slaanesh has claimed her, twisting her into a tool for Chaos. She seeks to open a warp rift, allowing Serapheas to flood into this world. Her path has become one of destruction, and now, she is our greatest enemy.¡± Syladria¡¯s voice broke slightly as she finished. ¡°For us Eldar, there is nothing more terrifying than corruption. It is a fate worse than death, the loss of our very souls to Slaanesh. Rosina must be stopped. No matter how painful it is to fight one of our own, we cannot allow her to succeed.¡±


    Kayvaan pointed to the faint rift in reality hovering above them, its edges shimmering like fractured glass. ¡°So, this is Rosina¡¯s doing?¡±


    Syladria¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Yes, her handiwork. It began as a conspiracy. Some time ago, I received a message from Rosina. She claimed she was losing control, that her desires and emotions had become like a wild beast freed from its cage. She said she was on an irreversible path to corruption and begged me to kill her. She wanted to die by my hand, to spend her last moments in her sister¡¯s arms.¡±


    Kayvaan''s eyes narrowed. ¡°She lied.¡±


    ¡°She did,¡± Syladria admitted bitterly. ¡°But the message wasn¡¯t entirely false. Rumors had already begun to spread. Rosina had been seen attacking human settlements indiscriminately¡ªsometimes slaughtering civilians, other times targeting Imperial officials. No one paid much attention at first; skirmishes between Eldar and the Imperium are common, and human lives mean little in the grand scheme. But this wasn¡¯t ordinary killing. She didn¡¯t simply destroy her targets¡ªshe tortured them, indulging in every twisted pleasure she could extract from their suffering. For her, killing wasn¡¯t duty or even sport. It was pure, unrestrained joy.¡±


    Kayvaan thought back to the video Elizabeth had shown him during his journey to the Far East. The footage of an Eldar torturing an Imperial official still haunted him. The victim had been carved into a thousand pieces while still alive, and the act was as grotesque as it was erotic¡ªa horrific blend of sadism and perversion. ¡°That... sounds exactly like what I saw. An Eldar killed an official on record¡ªskinned him alive and worse. Her name was mentioned.¡±


    Syladria¡¯s lips tightened into a grim line. ¡°That must have been Rosina. My people do not usually torture enemies. It serves no purpose. But Rosina... she¡¯s been fully claimed by the depravity of Slaanesh. Her soul has been twisted into a mockery of what she once was. Much of what she said in her message was true. But her intent was not to let us end her suffering. No, she lured us here to kill us.¡±


    Kayvaan glanced at the shimmering rift again. ¡°And this altar she set up? What¡¯s its purpose?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s created a Chaos altar on this planet, using a psychic array powered by ritual sacrifice. Her plan is to kill us and use our blood and souls to fuel a ritual. If successful, the warp rift above us will stabilize, becoming a full-fledged gateway. Once that happens, Chaos Serapheas will pour through, and this world will become a playground for their kind.¡±


    Kayvaan scoffed. ¡°This world? It¡¯s a backwater. Hardly seems like a prize worth taking.¡±


    Syladria gave him a tired look. ¡°It¡¯s not the planet itself. It¡¯s what the rift represents¡ªa foothold for Chaos. We cannot allow it to happen. But Rosina chose this battlefield and set the trap. Escape is not an option. If it were, we would have fled long ago. No one from Alaitoc would willingly face her. Even if I had the strength to defeat her, I wouldn¡¯t know if killing her or being killed by her is the worse fate.¡±


    ¡°Yet here you are,¡± Kayvaan observed. ¡°Still alive. That¡¯s something.¡±

 Chapter 67 - Whats your choice?

    ¡°A miracle, perhaps,¡± Syladria admitted. ¡°But I¡¯ve no illusions. The Rosina I knew is dead. All that remains is a Daemon wearing her face. I want to stop her, but I lack the strength. My people are scattered¡ªsome suppressing your soldiers at the fortress to prevent them from causing more chaos, others hunting Rosina in the jungle. As you¡¯ve seen, we¡¯ve had no success.¡±


    Kayvaan shrugged. ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen, you¡¯re the ones being hunted. So, what do you want from me? Cooperation?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. A verbal covenant,¡± Syladria said firmly. ¡°We share a common enemy. Until that enemy is defeated, we must act as allies.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned. ¡°I¡¯m just a scout. I can¡¯t make promises on behalf of others.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t represent all Eldar,¡± Syladria countered. ¡°This is merely a practical arrangement. A temporary truce with no formal record. When this is over, we¡¯ll return to our separate paths. In peace, we might speak again. In war, we¡¯ll fight for our people. But for now, we must stand together. I need you to deliver this message to the decision-makers at your fortress. No matter the tensions between us, they must understand the stakes.¡±


    Kayvaan considered her words. ¡°That... actually sounds reasonable. So, those are the words I¡¯m supposed to take back?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and be quick. We don¡¯t have much time,¡± Syladria said, her tone grave. ¡°Rosina¡¯s movements have been consistent. She goes hunting every three days, then disappears, only to repeat the cycle. During these intervals, the warp rift above us grows more defined. I suspect she conducts a sacrificial ritual to strengthen the passage while she¡¯s inactive. Today, the rift is visible to the naked eye, and she killed four of my kin in the last engagement. If we do nothing, the rift will stabilize in three days, allowing weaker Serapheas to cross over. We must act now. After three days, it will be too late¡ªSerapheas will start pouring through, and this world will become their playground.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned. ¡°I understand. But how should we stay in contact once I return to the fortress?¡±


    ¡°Outside Fort Gallan. If you come out alone, I¡¯ll know. I¡¯ll find you.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    The return to Fort Gallan was swift. Without the need for stealth or tracking, Kayvaan pushed himself to his limit, sprinting through the jungle. He covered the distance in a single day.


    As soon as he entered the meeting room, Elizabeth greeted him with her usual impatience. ¡°You¡¯re alive? Wonderful. Now tell me, what the hell happened out there? And what was that psychic explosion that disrupted our communications?¡±


    Kayvaan wasted no time, delivering a concise report of the events. ¡°The Eldar have set up a ritual altar,¡± he concluded. ¡°They¡¯re trying to open a warp rift.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Describe the rift in detail.¡±


    Rather than waste words, Kayvaan pulled up the photos he had taken and projected them onto the screen. Elizabeth studied them in silence, her brow furrowed. After a long pause, she exhaled. ¡°This isn¡¯t as bad as it could be.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Kayvaan''s frown deepened. ¡°Not a big deal? That rift will bring Serapheas into this world. Shouldn¡¯t we be panicking?¡±


    Elizabeth crossed her arms, her tone matter-of-fact. ¡°Because it¡¯s a temporary rift. This isn¡¯t the first time we¡¯ve dealt with incursions from the Warp. Every year, Serapheas find ways into realspace¡ªwhether through natural tears caused by cosmic phenomena or the rituals of cultists. But these breaches are usually unstable. Once the rift closes, Serapheas are forced back. They can¡¯t stay indefinitely. What¡¯s left behind is a corrupted wasteland¡ªlike spoiled food in a fridge. Open the door, and the smell leaks out. Close it, and the smell lingers but fades with time.¡± She gestured to the image of the rift. ¡°This crack is unstable. Even with their rituals, it won¡¯t hold for long. I¡¯d wager it¡¯ll collapse within a week. Space in this sector is too stable for a permanent breach.¡±


    Kayvaan wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°What about the Eldar? Should we trust what they¡¯ve told us?¡±


    Elizabeth smirked. ¡°Trust them? Of course not. Even if the Eldar you spoke to told the truth, they¡¯d never reveal the whole picture. They¡¯re using us. Their internal conflict has spiraled beyond their control, and now they want us to clean up their mess.¡±


    Kayvaan nodded, agreeing with her assessment. ¡°What¡¯s your recommendation?¡±


    Elizabeth tapped her chin thoughtfully. ¡°We¡¯re always on the back foot when it comes to Chaos incursions. We rarely know their full objectives, so we stick to defensive strategies¡ªfortify key positions, protect critical assets. But there¡¯s nothing here worth defending. My suggestion? Evacuate immediately. Let the Eldar fight their own battle. In a week or two, the rift will collapse on its own. Afterward, we¡¯ll come back and mop up whatever¡¯s left.¡± She paused, then added, ¡°Oh, and before we leave, capture two Eldar. That¡¯s our original mission, after all. This is just a border planet¡ªthere¡¯s not even an Imperial colony here. Frankly, I don¡¯t understand what Chaos hopes to gain. Maybe Serapheas want to collect antiques from that old outpost. Who knows? Either way, let them have it.¡±


    Kayvaan grinned. ¡°I like it. The 101st Regiment can evacuate with us. The Iron  Hawk can make a few extra trips¡ªfive hundred people is nothing for the Ebony Shadow.¡± Before Elizabeth could respond, the deputy commander of the 101st Regiment, Marlborough, interjected with a forced smile. ¡°I appreciate your offer, Mr. Kayvaan, but we can¡¯t evacuate with you.¡±


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can see for yourself,¡± Deputy Commander Marlborough began, rubbing his hands together nervously, ¡°that the 101st Regiment has suffered greatly. We¡¯ve been battered by a recent battle, and we¡¯re far from combat-ready. Technically, we were sent here to recover¡ªgive the soldiers a moment to breathe before returning to full operational status. But¡­¡± He sighed heavily, his voice tinged with resignation. ¡°Orders are orders. Officially, we¡¯ve been tasked to defend this Imperial border world, Aion. And until those orders change, we are bound to hold Fort Gallan. No matter what.¡±


    Elizabeth snorted, her gaze flicking to the lasguns mounted on the wall. ¡°You were already trapped in the fortress by a handful of rangers. Now you¡¯re supposed to hold this place against Chaos Serapheas? With what? Those ¡®flashlights¡¯?¡±


    Marlborough bristled but maintained his composure. ¡°Those are not ¡®flashlights.¡¯ They are standard-issue lasguns of the Imperial Defense Force. They may lack the raw firepower of your fancy weaponry, but they¡¯ve served countless Guardsmen in defending the Emperor¡¯s realm.¡±


    For a moment, Elizabeth looked ready to snap back, but she held her tongue, her smirk fading. She said nothing.


    Marlborough exhaled deeply, continuing. ¡°Even at full strength, the 101st could never hold this fortress against a Seraphea incursion. We¡¯re ordinary men and women, unlike you. We rely on discipline and the Emperor¡¯s orders to stand firm. But we are soldiers. And as soldiers, our duty is to obey, even if it costs us everything.¡± His gaze hardened as he went on. ¡°I want to live, but my duty is to this fortress. Even if there¡¯s nothing of value here¡ªjust a single cursed rock¡ªwe will defend it. Serapheas will learn that even for a pebble, we will fight until our last breath. This may seem foolish to you, but we¡¯re not just protecting Aion. We¡¯re defending the honor of Cadia itself.¡±


    Elizabeth turned to Kayvaan, her voice cold and sharp. ¡°Some people have no choice. What about you? What¡¯s your choice?¡±

 Chapter 68 - Cannot Leave

    Kayvaan crossed his arms, weighing his options. Staying to defend the fortress seemed absurd. Even with his team¡¯s support and heavy air cover, they would likely be overwhelmed when the warp rift stabilized. Chaos Serapheas would flood the area, and Fort Gallan would become a slaughterhouse. And even if they somehow succeeded, what would be gained? A broken fortress on an insignificant border world? No, it wasn¡¯t worth it.


    On the other hand, cooperating with the Eldar was equally unappealing. Could Syladria¡¯s claims about Rosina¡¯s corruption be trusted? The Alaitoc Craftworld had clashed with Imperial forces across multiple systems. They were enemies, not allies. Trusting the Eldar would be the height of naivety. Evacuation seemed the most logical course. Pulling back and allowing the rift to collapse on its own would minimize losses. The fortress could always be reclaimed later. The 101st Regiment would fight to the death, but as Marlborough had said, that was their duty.


    Kayvaan was about to speak when a voice cut through the room. ¡°No. None of us have a choice.¡±


    The room turned toward the speaker¡ªGustav, the Manufacturing Director from Ferrum 3, who had been silent until now. His tone was calm but carried a weight that silenced the room. ¡°We cannot retreat. This planet holds treasures you cannot imagine, and Serapheas know it. I know what they¡¯re after.¡±


    Kayvaan and Elizabeth exchanged glances before turning back to Gustav. Elizabeth¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Gustav, what are you hiding? If you¡¯ve been withholding critical information, now¡¯s the time to speak.¡±


    ¡°When I said there was a research station here, I wasn¡¯t being entirely accurate,¡± Gustav began, his tone measured. ¡°It¡¯s not even a proper research facility¡ªjust an observation station monitoring the planet¡¯s ecological environment.¡± He paused, seemingly lost in thought, before continuing. ¡°About six months ago, the station stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient underground city. Discoveries like this aren¡¯t unusual, and there¡¯s a well-established protocol for handling them. The report reached the manufacturing directors on the planet, and soon after, it landed on my desk. I came to Aion immediately to assess the site and quickly realized the significance of the find. The ruins weren¡¯t just a colony¡ªthey were a hidden storage facility. Based on the ancient texts we deciphered, we confirmed that something of immense value was hidden deep within the city¡¯s core.¡±


    Gustav adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice steady as he recounted the events. ¡°Given the potential importance of the site, the excavation was conducted with extreme caution. Early on, we uncovered fragments of an STC. Although the fragments and their templates were mostly destroyed, the discovery electrified the excavation team. Then we found it¡ªa complete and intact template.¡±


    At those words, the room fell silent. Even Deputy Commander Marlborough, who had been slouched in his chair, sat up straight, his attention riveted. Gustav allowed a moment of suspense before he spoke again, his voice carrying both pride and embarrassment. ¡°This was a complete template. It could revolutionize production¡ªonce returned to a forge world, it would begin manufacturing whatever was encoded within. Unfortunately¡­¡± He hesitated, pushing his glasses up his nose as if to shield himself. ¡°The template isn¡¯t for military equipment.¡±


    Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then what does it produce?¡±


    Gustav exhaled, almost reluctantly, and uttered a single word: ¡°Coca-Cola.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Kayvaan blinked. ¡°¡­¡±


    Elizabeth muttered, ¡°What¡¯s that? I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±


    ¡°The name has a certain charm,¡± Marlborough offered cautiously. ¡°Easy to say.¡±


    ¡°But entirely useless.¡± Gustav¡¯s tone was somber. ¡°May the Machine God forgive me, but the template is only capable of producing a black, fizzy beverage. I¡¯ve analyzed its properties extensively¡ªit can¡¯t be used as fuel, lubricant, or a substitute for engine oil. It appears to be purely consumable. But why would ancient humans add so much carbonic acid? What purpose does it serve? I¡¯ve racked my brain trying to understand. The Machine God¡¯s designs are profound, far beyond the grasp of mortal comprehension.¡±


    Kayvaan pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Black, and fizzy?¡± Elizabeth grimaced. ¡°That sounds disgusting.¡±


    ¡°It might seem unremarkable,¡± Gustav admitted, ¡°but let me remind you¡ªexcavations like these are a gamble. Out of hundreds of digs, most yield nothing but dirt and broken relics. Sometimes, if we¡¯re fortunate, we uncover funerary artifacts or antiques that fetch high prices from collectors. Discovering even fragments of an STC is rare. Finding a complete template, no matter how trivial its use, is nothing short of miraculous. The Machine God has blessed us, even if the blessing comes with a test.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s disdain was evident. ¡°A test? Of what? How much fizz we can tolerate? Honestly, what were the ancients thinking? The idea of drinking something like that makes me sick.¡±


    Gustav¡¯s tone grew more resolute. ¡°You¡¯re focusing on the wrong thing, Inquisitor. This template was found in the living quarters on the city¡¯s outskirts. The fact that it survived intact speaks volumes about the storage conditions in the deeper sections. We¡¯ve only excavated the city¡¯s first layer, and work on the second has barely begun. These outermost areas hold promise, but think of what lies deeper¡ªdata archives, industrial sectors, possibly military vaults. The possibilities are staggering. The STC we¡¯ve found is just the beginning.¡±


    Elizabeth folded her arms. ¡°You¡¯re saying there might be something useful. That¡¯s still just speculation.¡±


    ¡°This is the drawing I made of the ancient city,¡± Gustav began, spreading the schematic across the table. ¡°Take a look here¡ªyou must have noticed this yourself. The city¡¯s design is peculiar. It¡¯s a honeycomb-shaped colony, but it differs significantly from other ancient settlements. While much of its architecture follows the standard colonial style, some of the core buildings exhibit unusual features¡ªstreamlined, angular designs that feel almost weightless. They lack the imposing heaviness typical of Imperial architecture. If anything, they resemble Eldar constructions. Beyond that, the entire city feels¡­ light, almost as if it¡¯s meant to take flight. It¡¯s a magical place, a treasure trove of possibilities. With more time, I¡¯m certain we¡¯d uncover something invaluable.¡±


    Kayvaan glanced at the schematic and shrugged. ¡°In a few months, you¡¯ve only managed to excavate the first layer. Now all we can do is sit here dreaming about treasures that might be there. If you¡¯d worked faster, we could have packed up the loot and evacuated by now.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a simple matter of digging holes and pulling things out,¡± Gustav shot back, exasperated. ¡°We¡¯re conducting a meticulous excavation. Every detail matters. Every corner must be examined. It¡¯s a far cry from soldiers shoveling trenches. We use fine brushes and wooden tools. Excavating ancient ruins requires patience and care!¡±


    Kayvaan rolled his eyes. ¡°Fine. Anyway, do you think Serapheas are here for your ¡®treasure trove¡¯?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no other plausible explanation. Serapheas don¡¯t come to realspace without a purpose. Even if they were looking for a place to relax, they¡¯d pick somewhere better than this backwater. The only thing of value on this planet is in that ancient city. Otherwise, this rock is worthless.¡±


    Elizabeth frowned. ¡°When did Serapheas start caring about STCs? That doesn¡¯t add up. I¡¯ve never heard of them pursuing technological relics.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps this particular group understands the value of an STC,¡± Gustav speculated. ¡°Or perhaps their goal isn¡¯t the STC itself. The city is unusual. There could be something far more significant hidden within. But regardless of their motives, we can¡¯t let them roam freely. The ancient city must be protected.¡±

 Chapter 69 - Archeological Site

    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to risk our lives to defend an archaeological site?¡± Kayvaan tilted his head, his tone flat. ¡®Honestly, I couldn¡¯t care less.¡¯ His thoughts mirrored his words. Not only was he uninterested, but if he had the choice, he¡¯d leave immediately. Let the 101st Regiment fight to the death for Coca-Cola. It wasn¡¯t fear of combat that drove his apathy¡ªit was practicality. If they won but found nothing of value, this whole endeavor would be a waste. Gustav had compared the excavation to buying a lottery ticket, and Kayvaan wasn¡¯t the gambling type. The odds of winning seemed far too slim.


    What would history record as the Templars¡¯ first great victory? ¡®The warriors of the Knights Templar fought bravely on Aion and shattered an evil conspiracy. It was a historic victory, the dawn of their legend. Or perhaps The Templars won an epic battle, their first war and their first victory, heroically defending Coca-Cola for the Imperium. They ensured it did not fall into the hands of Chaos.¡¯ Kayvaan snorted at the thought. If that were the case, he¡¯d disband the war group himself.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just about interest,¡± Gustav interrupted, his tone steady. ¡°According to ancient covenants, Imperial soldiers are duty-bound to protect relics deemed sacred by the Mechanicus. And rest assured, the Mechanicus will not let its allies fight in vain. We¡¯ll provide¡­ suitable compensation.¡±


    Kayvaan''s eyebrow rose. ¡°Compensation, you say? That¡¯s not bad. But let¡¯s not leave it at vague promises. If there¡¯s a thank-you gift, I¡¯d also like some souvenirs. Is that fair?¡±


    ¡°It depends on the souvenir,¡± Gustav replied cautiously. ¡°Artifacts from the ancient city are cultural relics. Their value must be assessed by experts.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about random trinkets,¡± Kayvaan said with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m talking about the Coca-Cola STC. Can I have it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a sacred relic! It cannot be handed over so casually.¡±


    ¡°But you just said it¡¯s useless.¡±


    Gustav stiffened. ¡°I also said, ¡®May the Machine God forgive me.¡¯ The Machine God¡¯s will is not to be taken lightly.¡±


    ¡°True enough,¡± Kayvaan conceded with a shrug. ¡°The Machine God may forgive you, but I wonder if your superiors on Mars will be as understanding. I¡¯ll make sure to write them a detailed report.¡±


    Gustav glared at him but relented. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll authorize a copy. The Coca-Cola STC template isn¡¯t particularly complex. Its schematics can be transcribed into a manuscript. You¡¯ll receive a detailed copy of the manufacturing process and production line setup. The original template, however, must be delivered to Mars.¡±


    ¡°Good enough.¡± Kayvaan stood, his mood visibly lightened, and turned to examine the map on the wall.


    Elizabeth, who had been quietly observing the exchange, suddenly interjected. ¡°Kayvaan, why are you so obsessed with that Coca-Cola template?¡±


    ¡°Because I want to drink it,¡± Kayvaan replied without missing a beat. ¡°I¡¯ve never tasted anything like it before¡ªa black, fizzy drink. How could I resist? Besides, future recruits need to know what sparked the Templars¡¯ first great battle.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Elizabeth stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and disdain. ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s leave the Coca-Cola debate for later,¡± Kayvaan said, tapping the map with a cane to draw everyone¡¯s attention. Pointing to the map, Kayvaan continued, ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. Our objective is clear: destroy the enemy¡¯s ritual within three days and prevent the warp rift from stabilizing. If possible, we¡¯re also taking down the Eldar Rosina. According to my research, she¡¯s a wanted criminal responsible for killing multiple Imperial Inquisitors. Her head carries a hefty bounty. The Inquisition will reward us handsomely for her demise.¡±


    Kayvaan paused to let the weight of his words sink in before adding, ¡°Naturally, the bounty will be distributed according to an agreement between Elizabeth and me. Now, about the Eldar¡ªinitially, we didn¡¯t consider working with them. They¡¯re not exactly trustworthy, and we had no way of locating the enemy reliably. Aion is a vast planet, and Rosina could¡¯ve been hiding anywhere. Even the Eldar rangers, with all their tracking skills, couldn¡¯t pin her down. But now we know she¡¯s likely in the underground ancient city. That simplifies things. We team up with the Eldar, storm the city, eliminate Rosina, and dismantle her summoning ritual.¡±


    Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why involve the Eldar? You just said they can¡¯t be trusted.¡±


    Kayvaan smirked. ¡°They can¡¯t, but they bring firepower and knowledge about our enemy. If their information checks out, we¡¯re dealing with a powerful foe. We might win on our own, but it¡¯ll cost us lives. With the Eldar alongside us, we minimize losses. Besides, the underground city¡¯s terrain is complex and confined. It suits your Sisters perfectly, Elizabeth. Combine their close-quarters expertise with the Eldar rangers, and we¡¯ll have the upper hand.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°So the grand plan is to gather a band of misfits and charge in?¡±


    Kayvaan ignored her jab. ¡°On the third day, Marlborough, your regiment will move to this location.¡± He tapped a spot on the map.


    Marlborough leaned forward, studying the map. ¡°Chapter Master Kayvaan, do you want us to block the entrance to the underground city?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Kayvaan confirmed. ¡°You¡¯ll establish two lines of defense¡ªone inside and one outside¡ªwith Gustav¡¯s assistance. The ancient city is vast, and if we don¡¯t achieve our objectives in three days, the warp rift might stabilize. If that happens, Serapheas will likely start pouring out. Your regiment¡¯s job is to hold the line and buy us time to finish the fight in the city. Once we destroy Rosina¡¯s altar, the rift will collapse. It¡¯s unstable, so taking down the altar should close it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Gustav interjected.


    ¡°Good. That¡¯s the framework of the plan,¡± Kayvaan said, stepping back. ¡°Now, I¡¯ll let the Inquisitor explain the finer points.¡±


    Elizabeth stood, her expression grim. ¡°No matter the type of Seraphea we face, priority one is to close the dimensional gate. Without the gate, Serapheas lose their anchor to this world. Until the gate is closed, killing a Seraphea is essentially impossible. At best, you destroy its physical form, but it can return through the gate in the same or a different guise. Once the gate is shut, their power diminishes. Only then can we truly banish them.¡± She turned to Marlborough, her voice firm. ¡°Be prepared. Closing the gate is the turning point of the battle. When Serapheas sense their failure, they¡¯ll become more frenzied and violent. Their desperation will make them more dangerous. Your fortifications must be strong enough to withstand their assault during this critical phase. The more desperate they become, the harder they¡¯ll strike.¡±


    Marlborough swallowed hard, his face pale. ¡°You mean my people are supposed to hold the line against those... things? That can¡¯t be right. Most of my troops think Serapheas are just myths. Even I¡¯ve never seen anything like them.¡±

 Chapter 70 - The Fallen Eldar

    Elizabeth¡¯s tone was almost cheerful, which only added to Marlborough¡¯s discomfort. ¡°It¡¯s not unusual for units like the Imperial Guard to avoid fighting Serapheas. Consider yourselves lucky¡ªyou¡¯ve been given the honor of facing the darkest creatures in the galaxy. For many Imperial citizens, this would be a privilege, a chance to prove their courage and loyalty to the God-Emperor. Tell your people this: do not engage Serapheas in conversation, in thought, or in any spiritual way. Their words are poison, full of lies and deceit. The only dialogue you should have with a Seraphea is through the barrel of your lasgun. When you see one, shoot, and then keep shooting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we can hold off an enemy like that,¡± Marlborough muttered, his voice trembling. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d miss the green-skinned brutes, but now they seem almost... charming.¡±


    ¡°Marlborough, don¡¯t overthink it,¡± Kayvaan said, his tone reassuring. ¡°This is just the worst-case scenario. There¡¯s a good chance we¡¯ll destroy the altar and shut the warp gate before it stabilizes. If that happens, you¡¯ll just need to reposition to the second line of defense. At that point, the real threat won¡¯t be Serapheas but the Eldar rangers. Once the gate is closed, aim every gun you have at the exit of the underground city and ensure none of them escape.¡±


    Elizabeth chuckled. ¡°Kayvaan, you¡¯re a devious one. I thought you had a pact with the Eldar¡ªa verbal covenant, wasn¡¯t it? And now you plan to betray them.¡±


    ¡°This is war,¡± Kayvaan replied confidently. ¡°The Eldar are our enemies, and there¡¯s nothing wrong with deceiving the enemy. Besides, I¡¯m not breaking the agreement. The covenant with their leader, Syladria, is to unite against the warp-spawned threat. Once we emerge from the city, the shared enemy will be defeated, and the agreement fulfilled. The result? All threats to Fort Gallan will be eliminated, the ancient city will be secure, and Gustav can continue his excavation. Elizabeth, you¡¯ll get your prisoners, and everyone wins.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded, a faint smile on her lips. ¡°I must admit, the plan is... elegant. I like it.¡±


    Kayvaan glanced around the room. ¡°If there are no objections, then we¡¯ll proceed. Earth time is currently 10:30. I¡¯ve distributed the timetable, action routes, and orders to everyone here. I¡¯ll handle negotiations with the Eldar. Lady Elizabeth, take Gustav and your team to the rendezvous point at the entrance to the underground city.¡±


    Meanwhile Syladria situation is not as good. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve stooped to negotiating with those Mon-keigh ! You¡¯re an embarrassment to our kind. To think you would grovel to those primitive apes¡ªwhat could they possibly understand about this fight?¡±


    ¡°And what do you propose we do instead?¡± Syladria countered, her voice calm but firm. She swept her gaze across the gathered rangers, meeting their eyes one by one. Their expressions were a mixture of despair and frustration. ¡°Our situation is dire. Rosina has turned this place into our grave. The network has been severed, our escape routes are gone, and we are utterly trapped. So, tell me¡ªwho among us can stand against Rosina?¡±


    The cruel reality left no room for hope. Rosina appeared for the first time without warning. She said nothing, simply struck down a ranger with ruthless efficiency, taking both the ranger¡¯s body and their soul stone.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Three days later came the second attack. This time, Rosina didn¡¯t show herself. Two rangers vanished without a trace, as though they had been swallowed by the void. Their soul stones, as expected, were also gone. The third attack came three days after that. The rangers had laid an elaborate trap, painstakingly designed to corner Rosina. It failed spectacularly. Rosina swept through like a storm, leaving chaos in her wake. Three more rangers fell, their soul stones snatched from their lifeless bodies.


    Then came the fourth attack, mere days ago. Despite their desperate efforts, the rangers failed to prevent more losses. Four rangers were slain, and Rosina took their soul stones as easily as plucking fruit from a tree. Against Rosina, the once-feared Alaitoc rangers were no more threatening than children. Their lives were mere toys in her hands, extinguished at her whim. For the proud rangers, this realization was both horrifying and humiliating.


    The rangers were not considered one of the Paths of the Eldar. Unlike the Whirling Eagle, Screaming Banshee, or Fire Dragon, the ranger was a pathless wanderer, a being who had forsaken the strict discipline of the Paths.


    They were those who grew weary of the rigid rules and unchanging routines of Eldar society. The monotony of life under the Paths often led to feelings of despair, an incessant questioning: ¡®Is this all there is? Will my days always follow the same, predictable pattern?¡¯


    Curiosity about the universe¡¯s mysteries pushed them to abandon their homes. What lay beyond the dark expanse of space? What secrets hid beneath distant stars? What wonders waited beyond the next horizon? Once these questions took root, they became impossible to suppress. Driven by this wanderlust, many became rangers, forsaking the structure of Eldar life for the freedom of the void. But this freedom came at a price. Without the protective structure of the Paths, a ranger¡¯s heightened psychic awareness became a dangerous liability. Like a beacon in the darkness, their presence attracted predators, both physical and spiritual. Only those with extraordinary willpower survived for long. The weak often succumbed to despair, lost forever in the cold and unfeeling depths of the galaxy.


    Some rangers roamed endlessly, while others explored the labyrinthine Webway. A few even turned to piracy or plundering, becoming merciless raiders. But regardless of their chosen life, all rangers who endured were exceptionally resilient in both mind and body. Rarely did they fall to corruption or succumb to the influence of Chaos.


    Rosina had been the greatest of them all¡ªbrilliant, disciplined, and seemingly incorruptible. Her fall to Chaos was not just shocking; it was unthinkable. For the Eldar, there was no fate more horrifying than corruption. To be claimed by Chaos was a terror far worse than death.


    ¡°The fallen Rosina isn¡¯t just strong¡ªshe¡¯s far stronger than she was before,¡± Syladria said, her voice bitter. ¡°Chaos has given her power, and she wields it without hesitation. She has become a weapon of terror, slaughtering her own people and stealing their soul stones. None of us can stand against her. Even if we all joined forces, we wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.¡± Her lips twisted into a sad smile. ¡°It¡¯s tragic. The Star Walker should embody freedom and romantic adventure, but here we are, relying on human soldiers to survive. I understand the humiliation you feel, but we have no choice. We must fight with everything we have. If we fail, the consequences will be far worse than death. Rosina doesn¡¯t just kill. She takes our soul stones. She isn¡¯t giving her victims back to the endless cycle of rebirth. If we die, our souls will be trapped in her hands. At best, we¡¯ll cease to exist. At worst... we¡¯ll suffer fates too terrible to imagine. For Rosina, the consequences will be even more horrific. If she fully succumbs to Slaanesh, her torment will never end.¡±

 Chapter 71 - Mission Start

    Syladria took a steadying breath, her gaze sweeping over her companions. ¡°We still have a chance. If we can kill her and recover her soul stone, we might sever the grip Chaos has on her. We can pull her back from the abyss. It¡¯s our only chance to save her¡ªand ourselves.¡±


    One of the rangers muttered bitterly, ¡°And the humans? What use are they? They hide behind their fortress walls and shake with fear. They couldn¡¯t stand against even a few rangers, let alone Rosina.¡±


    ¡°There are so many of them,¡± one ranger muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. ¡°Every human life requires just one well-placed shot. When they gather, a burst of psychic energy can destroy them in one fell swoop. Mon-keigh are perfect targets¡ªugly, crude, barbaric. Their faces lack elegance, their existence devoid of beauty. Rosina must be delighted to turn these vulgar monkeys into red mist.¡±


    Syladria silenced him with a sharp look. ¡°Their flaws may amuse Rosina, but we can use their presence to our advantage. They¡¯ll distract her, drawing her firepower, and that gives us our opening. Humans are not entirely useless. They may lack grace, but their strict organization and discipline make them formidable. An army, even a human one, can do what we cannot alone. Rosina may overpower us, but with their support, we stand a chance. Besides,¡± she added with a sigh, ¡°their fortress received reinforcements. Some of them are surprisingly capable warriors. Yes, they¡¯re crude and vulgar, but they¡¯re the only allies we have. The situation is dire¡ªwe no longer have the luxury of choice.¡±


    Syladria¡¯s voice grew firm as she addressed her rangers. ¡°I know I led you here. I am responsible for what¡¯s happened, but I will do everything in my power to ensure you leave this planet alive. Please, trust me as you always have.¡±


    One ranger stepped forward, his voice resolute. ¡°I have walked darker paths, but a ranger does not fear the shadows.¡±


    Another echoed, ¡°My eyes are yours to guide, and my rifle follows your command.¡±


    A sudden sound carried on the wind¡ªa series of coded signals, part of the rangers¡¯ prearranged communication. Syladria tilted her head, listening intently, then smiled. ¡°Good news,¡± she said, her voice lifting with rare optimism. ¡°Our human allies have found Rosina¡¯s hiding place.¡±


    The mood among the rangers shifted instantly. Words of encouragement, no matter how heartfelt, could never compare to the power of actionable intelligence. After days of enduring Rosina¡¯s relentless assaults, they finally had a target. Rangers were never meant to stand passively, waiting for an inevitable attack. They were hunters, not prey. The despair of being forced into inaction lifted, replaced by a fierce desire to strike back.


    With renewed morale, the rangers quickly fell into formation. Guided by Kayvaan, they moved swiftly toward the underground ancient city, their pace relentless. When they reached the gates, they found two massive bolter turrets mounted on armored towers guarding the entrance. Each turret was manned by servitors, their soulless mind keeping the weapons trained on anything that moved. The dual bolter cannons were devastating, capable of firing 6,000 explosive rounds per minute. Their relentless firepower could turn even the most armored enemies into smoldering ruin. Though stationary, they provided an impenetrable defense for key positions.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Kayvaan whistled, his tone light. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t expect Gustav to bring these beauties along.¡± Internally, however, he cursed. ¡®Gustav, you idiot. Why set this up so early? What if you scare the Eldar into refusing to go in?¡¯


    The turrets were an intimidating sight. Their presence alone could deter most foes, and their overwhelming firepower ensured that anything brave¡ªor foolish¡ªenough to approach would be reduced to ash. If Rosina were on the surface, she will surely escaped, but than she wouldn¡¯t have been able to evade the rangers for so long. Unlike other rangers, she couldn¡¯t simply crawl into a hidden crevice to wait out the search. Her plans required something far more elaborate¡ªa dark altar, essential for conducting the vile rituals needed to open a warp gate.


    The ritual wasn¡¯t as simple as spilling blood or offering corpses. Each sacrifice¡ªbe it a body, blood, or a soul stone¡ªhad to be meticulously prepared. To offer them carelessly would risk offending the Chaos Gods, a blasphemy even Rosina wouldn¡¯t dare commit. Chaos summoning rituals, especially those involving the opening of dimensional gates, demanded strict adherence to detail: the placement of candles, the preparation of sacrifices, the drawing of intricate runes, and the precise incantation of spells. All these requirements made a quiet, secure, and spacious location essential.


    The underground ancient city provided the perfect environment for such work. Its labyrinthine corridors shielded Rosina from detection, explaining why the rangers had failed to locate her.


    The moment the ranger stepped forward, the air erupted with the deafening roar of bolter fire. Kayvaan reflexively ducked, his combat-honed instincts screaming at him to hit the ground. But he quickly realized he was well outside the turrets¡¯ range and straightened up, relieved that he hadn¡¯t embarrassed himself by overreacting. The ranger, however, reacted with agility one would expect from the Alaitoc. He dropped to the ground in a fluid motion, rolled to the side, and sprang up behind a rock. His movements were seamless, a masterclass in evasive action. Yet, despite the impressive display, no one paid him any attention. The rangers remained focused on the situation at hand.


    The turrets weren¡¯t firing at the rangers. Their barrels were aimed inside the dungeon¡¯s entrance, unleashing a relentless barrage of explosive shells. From the angle, it was impossible to see what they were targeting, but the sound of the gunfire was a chilling reminder of the destructive force those weapons wielded.


    The first hint of the enemy came in the form of a deep, guttural roar. Emerging from the shadows of the ancient city¡¯s gates was a creature that seemed plucked straight from nightmare¡ªa towering beast with the head of a bull, the body of a man, and cloven hooves. Its blackened, sinewy muscles gleamed under the dim light, and its hulking frame stretched nearly three meters tall. In one hand, it effortlessly wielded a massive axe.


    The creature¡ªresembling the Minotaur of human myth¡ªlowered its horned head and charged toward the bolter turrets like an enraged bull. The ground trembled under the beast¡¯s thunderous steps, its sheer mass radiating raw power. It moved as though nothing could stand in its way, as though even the mightiest walls would crumble beneath its charge.


    The Vulcan bolter turrets swiveled slightly, their movements almost casual, as if swinging a massive whip. The explosive-tipped rounds shredded the beast¡¯s body with terrifying precision. Bright blood sprayed into the air as the Minotaur staggered, its charge abruptly halted. The sheer force of the gunfire left its massive frame quaking uncontrollably, and another arc of fire tore through it, splitting the creature in two. Within moments, the monstrosity was reduced to a gory ruin.


    Even as the turrets recalibrated, more Minotaurs surged forth from the depths of the city, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Each carried massive axes, their numbers multiplying by the second.

 Chapter 72 - The Chaos Spawn

    At that moment, the Sisters of Battle emerged from their positions behind the bolter turrets. Clad in pristine white power armor adorned with purity seals, the Sisters moved with purpose, their leader at the forefront. She wore a blood-red cloak that billowed behind her as she marched, her chain sword gripped in one hand and a bolt pistol in the other. Her voice rang out, strong and commanding, cutting through the chaos: ¡°For the Emperor! Sisters, fire! Purge this filth from the Emperor¡¯s sight!¡±


    The Sisters responded with unwavering discipline, raising their weapons as one. Bolter fire erupted in a symphony of destruction, ¡°Destroy the filth in front of you!¡± Their voices were immediately drowned out by the deafening roar of bolter fire. The combined firepower was like an unrelenting steel tide crashing against a wall of blackened, monstrous flesh. The wave of explosive rounds tore through the charging Minotaurs, sending gouts of red blood and shredded muscle into the air. The Daemons, which had seemed as immovable as stone, were obliterated in moments, leaving only dismembered remains scattered across the battlefield.


    But their numbers seemed endless. The entrance to the underground city was broad enough to allow several Leman Russ  tanks to pass side by side. Such a massive gateway couldn¡¯t be fully sealed by even the most ferocious gunfire. From the dark recesses of the dungeon, more Minotaurs surged forth, their monstrous forms lit by the occasional muzzle flash. These beasts, driven by an otherworldly fury, charged fearlessly toward the Vulcan gun towers, their massive axes gleaming with malice.


    ¡°Everyone! The enemy is right in front of you¡ªwhat are you waiting for?¡± Kayvaan shouted as he straightened, sniper rifle in hand. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired. The shot rang out, sharp and precise. A distant Minotaur jerked backward, the bullet having entered its right eye.


    Kayvaan lowered the rifle slightly, watching the creature. Despite the headshot, it merely staggered, standing upright once more. The beast grunted in irritation, then reached up with one massive hand, its thick fingers plunging into the bloody socket. The monster began to dig into its own eye socket with an almost casual ferocity, as if trying to extract the bullet embedded in its skull.


    Kayvaan''s eye twitched. The scene was grotesque. ¡®How is this thing still alive?¡¯ He had seen monsters with incredible resilience, but this was beyond anything he¡¯d witnessed. ¡®Surely digging into your own brain would cause more damage than my bullet.¡¯ Then, with a wet, echoing bang, the Minotaur¡¯s head exploded. The explosive round had finally detonated, obliterating the beast¡¯s skull from the inside out. The towering monster collapsed like a toppled statue, its massive frame hitting the ground with a thud.


    Kayvaan exhaled, his surprise fading. Explosive rounds weren¡¯t ordinary bullets. Each was a miniature missile, designed to pierce the target and detonate inside, causing catastrophic internal damage. Even a creature with vitality as tenacious as the Minotaur couldn¡¯t withstand such destruction. But there was no time to marvel. The battlefield was chaos incarnate, a relentless tide of death and violence. Minotaurs continued to charge, hurling themselves at the firepower arrayed against them. Behind them, from the depths of the dungeon, emerged a new figure¡ªa larger, more muscular Minotaur. It didn¡¯t join the charge, instead standing back, observing the battle with a cold, calculating gaze. This one, clearly, was their leader.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet,¡± Kayvaan said, pointing toward the larger Minotaur hidden in the shadows, ¡°that you can¡¯t hit that one¡¯s eye.¡±


    Syladria raised her energy rifle without hesitation. ¡°Left eye or right eye?¡±


    ¡°Left eye.¡±


    The sharp thwip of an energy arrow being fired came almost before he finished speaking. The glowing projectile illuminated the darkness briefly, and then it struck home. The arrow embedded itself deep in the Minotaur leader¡¯s eye socket. The massive beast let out a roar of agony, its pained bellow echoing through the dungeon. The cry was abruptly cut short as the psychic energy infused within the arrow tore the creature apart from the inside. It collapsed in a heap, lifeless. Kayvaan stared, momentarily silent. Then, with a smirk, he said, ¡°It was the right eye.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the monster¡¯s left eye, but our right,¡± Syladria retorted, dismissively. Turning to her squad, she called out, ¡°Khaine will protect us! Rangers, the hunting season has begun! Let¡¯s finish this.¡±


    The Eldar rangers sprang into action. Beams of psychic energy streaked through the air, each one a deadly lance of light. Each shot heralded the fall of another Daemon, its lifeless body crumpling in the wake of the Eldar¡¯s precision. The rangers¡¯ energy arrows danced across the battlefield like strokes of an artist¡¯s brush, painting the air with brilliant, luminous trails.


    To the uninformed, it might have looked beautiful¡ªa dazzling display of light and color. But for the Daemons, it was the cold, merciless art of death. This was the Eldar way: even in battle, they sought elegance and beauty. If they couldn¡¯t create art in the quiet of their sanctuaries, they would craft it on the battlefield, through blood and destruction. Kayvaan continued to fire his sniper rifle, though his attention shifted away from the Daemons. Chaos was powerful, but the creatures it summoned here were still flesh and blood. They could be killed, torn apart, or burned to ash. The greater threat wasn¡¯t the Chaos-spawned monsters wielding crude axes.


    With Syladria and her rangers joining the fray, the defensive battle quickly turned into a massacre. The charging Minotaurs, already battered by the Sisters of Battle under Elizabeth¡¯s command, found themselves caught in a deadly crossfire. Flanked by the unrelenting Vulcan gun towers and subjected to the Eldar rangers¡¯ precise firepower, their courage crumbled. Had their leader survived, they might have persisted in their suicidal charge. But with his death under Syladria¡¯s psychic-powered arrow, the beasts¡¯ will to fight evaporated. Unlike pure Serapheas, these Minotaurs were Chaos-twisted creatures¡ªbeasts at heart. And beasts, when overwhelmed, succumbed to fear.


    Under the relentless onslaught, the surviving Minotaurs turned and fled into the darkness. Their retreat offered little reprieve. The gun towers unleashed a barrage of fire, tearing into their exposed backs. Within minutes, the battlefield was littered with mangled corpses and pools of dark, steaming blood.


    The Vulcan towers, now devoid of immediate threats, shifted into automated monitoring mode. They rotated methodically, scanning the gore-strewn battlefield for movement. Occasionally, a burst of fire would erupt, shredding any hint of disturbance until nothing recognizable remained. ¡°Kayvaan, you arrived just in time,¡± Elizabeth said, her tone calm, almost casual. To her, it seemed as if they¡¯d merely swatted away a horde of pests. ¡°Any later, and while we wouldn¡¯t have suffered casualties, it might¡¯ve caused unnecessary trouble.¡± Her gaze shifted to Syladria, who stood beside Kayvaan. ¡°And who is this enigmatic companion? Might I have the honor of learning her name?¡±


    ¡°You may call me Syladria,¡± the Eldar replied, offering a graceful one-handed greeting. Her tone carried the cool detachment characteristic of her people. ¡°Judging by your attire, you must be the leader here. And your name?¡±

 Chapter 73 - Cooperation

    Elizabeth smiled faintly, noting that Kayvaan hadn¡¯t corrected Syladria¡¯s assumption. She chose not to clarify the misunderstanding, allowing it to work in her favor. ¡°I am Elizabeth, a loyal servant of the God-Emperorw. Syladria of Alaitoc, I am aware of your purpose here. It¡¯s heartening to see you recognize the necessity of unity in the face of Chaos. Compared to the filth we fight, the tensions between our races are trivial. Cooperation is our only path to victory.¡±


    With that, Elizabeth performed a slightly awkward Eldar gesture of respect. Though her attempt was clumsy, it was enough to leave Syladria with a more favorable impression of the human leader. ¡°We share a common goal¡ªRosina¡¯s death,¡± Syladria said.


    ¡°And we need her body,¡± Elizabeth countered without hesitation. ¡°Her crimes against the Imperium¡ªmassacring civilians, attacking officials¡ªmust be judged. Even in death, justice must be declared.¡±


    ¡°How can you use human laws to judge an Eldar?¡± Syladria asked sharply.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Elizabeth¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Do you still believe your friend is Eldar?¡±


    Syladria fell silent. The Rosina she had known¡ªthe genius and pride of Alaitoc¡ªwas gone. In her place was a slave to Chaos, a puppet of Slaanesh. After a moment, Syladria relented. ¡°Very well. You may take her body, but anything that belongs to my people must be returned.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Elizabeth stepped aside, motioning for Syladria to follow. ¡°Now, let¡¯s discuss further details in the command post. We¡¯ve been working to clean up the filth infesting the ancient city, but the situation is far from ideal. Fortunately, we¡¯ve had assistance from a researcher familiar with the area, which has been invaluable.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Elizabeth guided them past one of the Vulcan gun towers to a bunker partially buried in the ground. ¡°This is our temporary headquarters,¡± Elizabeth said as she gestured for them to enter. ¡°It¡¯s far from luxurious, but we¡¯re not here for comfort. Please, come inside.¡±


    Inside, the command post was sparse but functional. Gustav was bent over a table, intently studying a map. Across from him sat Hilsa, the squadron leader, meticulously cleaning her firearm. Hilsa¡¯s focus was unshakable, her movements almost reverent. For her, weapon maintenance was more than a practical task¡ªit was a ritual, akin to the way ancient knights tended to their swords after battle.


    Elizabeth frowned slightly. ¡°Hilsa, the weapons can wait until after the battle. Take my retinue, equip them with flamers, and ensure every trace of flesh outside is purged. Leave no residue of Chaos behind.¡±


    Hilsa set down her firearm without hesitation. ¡°As you wish, my lady. I¡¯ll burn it all.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the commotion outside,¡± Elizabeth said, her tone calm as she gestured toward the military history map pinned to the wall. ¡°Hilsa and the others are handling the cleanup. Let¡¯s focus on the current situation.¡± She pointed to a location on the map. ¡°We initially marked the dungeon entrance as our assembly point because we didn¡¯t anticipate it being overrun by Chaos corruption. Logically, that shouldn¡¯t have been possible. Until the ritual is complete and the dimensional gate stabilizes, no Seraphea should be able to breach the warp-tearing currents of an unstable passage. Higher-level Serapheas wouldn¡¯t risk the journey, and lesser ones would be shredded by the violent energy flows. Normally, such incursions are impossible.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Elizabeth paused, her expression hardening. ¡°The plan was straightforward: bring the Eldar strike team to the dungeon, intercept Rosina, destroy her altar, and divide the spoils before heading back. That was Phase One. Phase Two involved baiting the defenders into ambush positions outside, where our forces could strike decisively. Ideally, we¡¯d neutralize the Eldar as well¡ªbecause no one underestimates their cunning and walks away unscathed.¡± Her voice grew sharper. ¡°But no one expected issues this early. The first step alone fell apart. We assumed Rosina was the only threat, focused on her rituals and vulnerable to a coordinated assault. Even if she was powerful, she couldn¡¯t stand against our combined strength.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°We didn¡¯t count on her having Chaos Serapheas as backup.¡±


    Kayvaan, standing beside her, crossed his arms. ¡°Those Serapheas shouldn¡¯t be here. It¡¯s far too risky for them to cross unstable rifts. Yet they¡¯re here, hidden within the dungeon. Why?¡± He shook his head, clearly frustrated. ¡°This doesn¡¯t add up.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded slightly but remained silent. In her mind, the answer was obvious: a more powerful Chaos entity was pulling the strings. Such entities cared little for the expendable lives of lesser Serapheas, using them as tools to achieve their goals. However, this wasn¡¯t something she intended to say aloud, especially not in front of their Eldar allies. Trust only went so far. ¡°High-level Chaos Serapheas are far too calculated to waste resources on a whim,¡± Elizabeth said cautiously. ¡°There must be something in this dungeon they want¡ªa prize worth the risk.¡±


    She glanced toward Kayvaan, who seemed deep in thought. ¡°We could request immediate support from the Ebony Shadows,¡± he muttered. ¡°Ship-based artillery could level this place and destroy whatever Serapheas are after.¡±


    Elizabeth sighed. ¡°If only it were that simple. The Adeptus Mechanicus would never allow it. Gustav¡¯s presence alone makes that option impossible.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Kayvaan admitted, shaking his head. ¡°Still, we can¡¯t afford endless speculation. Whatever Rosina and her Serapheas are planning, it ends here. Kill her, destroy the altar, and close the rift.¡±


    Elizabeth gave a curt nod. ¡°Agreed. Now, onto practical matters,¡± Elizabeth continued. ¡°Before your arrival, I led a team into the dungeon for preliminary reconnaissance. It¡¯s as dangerous as you¡¯d expect. Serapheas are lurking, ready to strike, so we couldn¡¯t risk going too deep. We lured some of them to the entrance and eliminated them, but we¡¯ll need to venture further this time. Be prepared.¡± She gestured toward the map again. ¡°This ancient city is anything but ordinary. It has a unique shielding effect¡ªoutside its gates, it appears completely mundane. Neither electronic instruments nor psychic detection work. The moment you step inside, though, it¡¯s like crossing into another reality. The air itself reeks of Chaos, and every breath carries its foul taint. Strangely, the corruption doesn¡¯t leak beyond the city¡¯s boundaries. It¡¯s as if the walls contain it.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned. ¡°You mentioned interference. Is that why we can¡¯t pinpoint Rosina or the altar¡¯s location?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Elizabeth confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s as if the city was designed to block all psychic activity. Instruments are useless, and our spiritual senses are blinded. Tracking Rosina in these conditions will be nearly impossible.¡±


    Syladria, a veteran of countless battles, muttered under his breath. ¡°An ancient city with this level of protection... it¡¯s incredible. How large is this place?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s enormous,¡± Gustav remarked as he placed a three-dimensional model on the table. The structure, made of interconnected metal rods, resembled a honeycomb.

 Chapter 74 - Exploring the Site

    ¡°This underground ancient city was once a sprawling, oval-shaped metropolis. Based on preliminary estimates, it could have housed millions at its peak. Its layered, honeycomb design was a hallmark of colonial urban planning¡ªefficient against floods, predators, and natural disasters. A true marvel. Praise the Omnissiah; the design is almost divine.¡± He paused, a somber expression crossing his face. ¡°But something catastrophic happened here. We don¡¯t know the exact cause, but whatever it was, it led to the city¡¯s destruction and eventual submergence underground. The entrance we used is actually the city¡¯s topmost layer. If the design adheres to standard patterns, the city should span 23 levels. The 12th level would likely be the core, surrounded by living quarters and agricultural zones on the upper levels. The lower levels were probably industrial and military zones. Of course, this is speculation¡ªbut what¡¯s certain is that the city is vast. Finding one person here will be like finding a needle in a haystack.¡±


    Elizabeth crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. ¡°We have only three days¡ª61 Terran hours, to be precise¡ªto locate and eliminate Rosina. We¡¯ve already wasted half a day. The problem isn¡¯t just finding her; it¡¯s the sheer size of this city. A complete search is impossible in the time we have. If we¡¯re to succeed, we¡¯ll need more than luck.¡± She smirked, adding with faint sarcasm, ¡°Perhaps the Omnissiah could bless us.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Inquisitor, mind your words,¡± Gustav interjected, his tone sharp. ¡°The Omnissiah is the god of knowledge, the spirit within machines. He is not some god of chance.¡±


    Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ¡°Fine, Gustav, but tell me this¡ªwhat are the odds of digging up an intact STC? Higher than winning the lottery? Without the Omnissiah¡¯s ¡®blessing,¡¯ would you even manage to unearth a can of soda?¡±


    Gustav faltered, his indignation fading into confusion. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Before he could form a reply, Syladria, one of the Eldar Rangers, cut in. ¡°Leave the problem to us. Human psychic abilities are rudimentary at best, but for us, such challenges are trivial¡ªassuming there are no unusual barriers. Rosina may be clever, but she cannot escape the gaze of Alaitoc¡¯s Rangers. Nothing evades the hawk-eyes of our craftworld. We have no need for your Omnissiah. We require only the blessing of Khaine, the God of War, to crush our foes.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment. None of the humans bothered to comment on the Eldar¡¯s dead gods. Kayvaan, wearing scout equipment, broke the silence. ¡°Understood. Everyone, prepare yourselves. We move out now.¡±


    A task force comprising Eldar Rangers, a squad of Battle Sisters, Inquisitor Elizabeth, and Kayvaan set out for the ancient city. Gustav and his combat servitors remained behind, tasked with fortifying their position. For Gustav, the battle had only begun. He needed to construct a robust defense system for the reinforcements expected to arrive. More defensive turrets, deeper trenches, stronger fortifications, and heavier firepower were required.


    Kayvaan''s defensive lines, in Gustav¡¯s opinion, were inadequate. The soldiers available were mere mortals, and if Chaos Serapheas breached the lines, morale would collapse. A flexible defense was essential¡ªfortifications that could absorb pressure without breaking. Gustav muttered a prayer to the Omnissiah as he began sketching his plans.


    Meanwhile, Elizabeth¡¯s team ventured deeper into the ancient city. As she predicted, their connection to the outside world was severed by an unknown energy. Psychic communication and electronic signals alike were blocked, though the interference seemed localized¡ªinside the city, their instruments worked fine. The Eldar Rangers noted the anomaly but set aside their curiosity. There was no time for analysis. Their priority was finding Rosina.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Rosina was no novice. She knew how to conceal her psychic energy and movements. However, the Chaos Altar she was using emitted a faint but detectable signature. Skilled psychics like the Eldar Rangers could pick up on it, even amidst the taint of Chaos saturating the city.


    Elizabeth found it impossible to distinguish the altar¡¯s presence amidst the overwhelming background noise of corruption. For her, it was like trying to identify a specific scent in a swamp. The Eldar, however, were confident. ¡°The path ahead is clear,¡± Kayvaan reported, returning from a quick reconnaissance. ¡°No enemies detected for now. Syladria, can you pinpoint Rosina¡¯s location?¡±


    Syladria hesitated, his expression troubled. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a problem.¡±


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. ¡°What kind of problem?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s definitely some kind of psychic interference in the city,¡± Syladria said, his tone laced with frustration. ¡°It¡¯s like a dense mist clouding the mind, making it impossible to see clearly. It¡¯s strange¡ªI can¡¯t pinpoint the source of this disturbance.¡±


    ¡°Let me stop you right there,¡± Kayvaan interrupted, his voice sharp. ¡°Can you locate the Chaos Altar or not?¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± Syladria replied calmly. ¡°The interference doesn¡¯t block everything. I can sense the Chaos Altar.¡±


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then there¡¯s no issue. You can see through the fog.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Syladria¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°We found the altar¡¯s location¡­ but there isn¡¯t just one.¡±


    Kayvaan froze. ¡°What do you mean? How many are there?¡±


    ¡°Six altars,¡± Syladria replied flatly. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve detected.¡±


    ¡°Six altars?¡± Kayvaan echoed, his tone incredulous. ¡°Is this some kind of ritual formation, or do we need to destroy all six?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Syladria said, shaking his head. ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be six altars. Rosina is working alone¡ªshe can only perform her ritual in one location. The other five are decoys, meant to mislead us. If it weren¡¯t for this psychic interference, I might be able to identify the real one. But right now, I can¡¯t.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed, his frustration mounting. ¡°So, we have six targets, and only one is real. Not ideal, but at least we have something to work with.¡± He turned toward Elizabeth, raising his voice. ¡°Inquisitor, we¡¯ve got a situation. Care to lend us your wisdom?¡±


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Can¡¯t you handle it yourselves?¡±


    Kayvaan''s patience thinned. ¡°We could, but it¡¯d be faster with your input.¡±


    Reluctantly, Elizabeth joined them, and the three leaders examined the map Syladria had marked. The six altars were spread across the vast, labyrinthine city. The conclusion was obvious. ¡°We don¡¯t have the time to check each altar one by one,¡± Kayvaan said. ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll hit the right one first. If not¡­¡± He trailed off, but the implication was clear. ¡°We¡¯ll have to split up. It¡¯s risky, but it¡¯s the best option to cover ground quickly.¡±


    Elizabeth and Syladria exchanged looks and nodded. Neither the Eldar nor the humans trusted each other, but splitting up was a relief for both sides. At least this way, they didn¡¯t have to constantly watch their backs against their supposed allies.


    Kayvaan''s group descended into the depths of the city, heading toward the fifth floor where their first target was located. The journey could only be described as endless. A spiral staircase stretched downward into darkness, its steps worn smooth by time. Peering over the edge of the railing revealed nothing but an abyss, the void below seemingly without end.


    Occasionally, they crossed long corridors or traversed iron bridges suspended over bottomless pits. The air grew heavier the deeper they went. The oppressive weight of the ancient hive city bore down on them, its sheer scale humbling. The city¡¯s architecture was a testament to the wonders of high technology, far beyond the comprehension of most humans. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why the Adeptus Mechanicus revered the Omnissiah. For those without scientific knowledge, such structures would seem like miracles.

 Chapter 75 - Another World

    Kayvaan, cloaked in a camouflage shroud, led the way. His multi-functional goggles were set to low-light mode, allowing him to see every detail of the steps beneath his feet, from their cracked masonry to the thin layer of dust that coated them. His movements were silent, blending seamlessly into the shadows, but his unease grew with every step. Something was wrong.


    Kayvaan stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal the group behind him. The Battle Sisters, armed with shock mauls and searchlights, halted a few meters back, their weapons at the ready. A beam of light swept across the staircase, illuminating Kayvaan as he emerged from the shadows. ¡°Elizabeth,¡± he called out, his voice steady. ¡°Something¡¯s not right here.¡±


    Elizabeth approached, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°That¡¯s why you stopped? This place reeks of Chaos, and Serapheas are lurking in every shadow, hungry for fresh blood. Did you just now notice? Your remarkable insight never ceases to amaze me.¡±


    Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. ¡°Are you okay, Elizabeth?¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s breathing was labored, her pale face ghastly under the harsh beam of the flashlight. ¡°I-I just had a small auditory hallucination,¡± she stammered, forcing a weak laugh. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. An old issue. No need to worry.¡±


    Two of the Battle Sisters accompanying her subtly shifted their stance, positioning their weapons for a potential threat. Another Battle Sister adjusted her position, clearly ready to shield Elizabeth if needed. The maneuver didn¡¯t escape Kayvaan''s notice. ¡®How could I not be tense?¡¯ he thought, suppressing a grimace. The situation was spiraling fast. While cursing his misfortune internally, he understood that ignoring the issue would only make things worse.


    Elizabeth was an Inquisitor¡ªand a psyker. Most Inquisitors trained in psychic powers were adept at maintaining control, constructing mental fortresses to fend off Serapheaic influence. But psykers were never entirely safe. They were like pressurized gas tanks¡ªuseful, yet dangerous if mishandled. Even among the rigorously trained, the risk of corruption was never zero. The Ordo Malleus taught its operatives to monitor psykers closely and act decisively at the first sign of possession. If Elizabeth¡¯s condition worsened, her own retinue wouldn¡¯t hesitate to execute her. The tension among the Sisters was palpable; two were ready to fire, while one stood prepared to shield her.


    Kayvaan swallowed hard, weighing the likelihood of internal conflict. They¡¯d barely entered the dungeon¡ªwhat if their first fight wasn¡¯t against Chaos, but among themselves? ¡°What exactly did you hear?¡± he asked cautiously.


    Elizabeth shivered, her voice trembling. ¡°Chewing. Like bones being crushed. Something gorging itself. And¡­ cries. Women and children, terrified, drowning in despair.¡±


    ¡°Elizabeth, focus!¡± Kayvaan snapped, his voice firm but steady. ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to you. Remember your training. Calm your mind, check your defenses. This is Chaos trying to worm its way in. You¡¯ve faced worse¡ªyou can fight this.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she whispered, nodding shakily. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. The Emperor protects.¡± Her voice steadied as she began a breathing exercise, each inhale and exhale measured and rhythmic. The oppressive atmosphere of the spiral staircase seemed to hold its breath as Elizabeth worked through the psychic disturbance. Moments later, she opened her eyes, her composure restored. ¡°I¡¯m fine now,¡± she declared, her tone cold. ¡°My apologies for the trouble, Commander Kayvaan. There¡¯s something very wrong with this city¡ªnot just Chaos. Something unique affected me.¡± She hesitated, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. ¡°Thank you for noticing. If you hadn¡¯t¡­¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°No thanks needed,¡± Kayvaan replied tersely. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on staying alive. Something¡¯s definitely wrong, and I don¡¯t mean just psychically. What did you see before?¡±


    Elizabeth gave him a faint, approving smirk. ¡°Is this a test? Always cautious, aren¡¯t you? Admirable.¡± She swept her gaze across the staircase, her sharp eyes catching details most would miss. ¡°This city¡¯s ruins are ancient¡ªtens of thousands of years, if not more. But¡­¡± She ran her fingers along the railing, brushing off a thin layer of dust. ¡°This dust is fresh. No more than a week old.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned, breaking off a section of the wooden railing. ¡°That doesn¡¯t add up. Wood like this should have rotted away centuries ago. Instead, it¡¯s as solid as newly-made furniture. Whatever Gustav told us about this city was surface-level guesswork. He barely scratched the surface, literally. His intel isn¡¯t reliable¡ªwe¡¯ll need to tread carefully.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded, still examining the dust. ¡°Could it be a stasis field? Something keeping the city in temporal suspension?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kayvaan said after a moment¡¯s thought. ¡°If time was frozen, we¡¯d be affected too. And who would use that kind of technology to keep dust off furniture? I¡¯ve never heard of anything like this.¡± He tossed the wood fragment aside and shrugged. ¡°Maybe someone cleaned up recently. Either way, it doesn¡¯t change our mission. We move forward, stay sharp, and deal with whatever we find.¡±


    With that, he stepped into the darkness, his cloak blending into the shadows. The team followed, the clinking of armor and distant echoes the only sounds accompanying their descent. The descent lasted three hours, the spiral staircase seeming endless. Finally, they reached the fifth level. Kayvaan pushed open a small, unassuming door. What lay beyond wasn¡¯t a continuation of the staircase but an entirely different world.


    As the door creaked open, the sight before them was surreal. Instead of ancient ruins or decayed halls, they were greeted by a sprawling cityscape. The streets were paved with concrete, flanked by rows of dim streetlights. Skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their silhouettes outlined by flickering neon signs. A pair of black vintage cars stood parked along the street, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the glowing lights. Pedestrians in sharp suits passed by, casting brief, curious glances at Kayvaan and his group before hurrying on their way. Neon signs overhead blinked intermittently, their crimson glow illuminating the shocked expressions of the party. The pulsing red light gave the illusion of their faces appearing and vanishing in the dark.


    Kayvaan froze, an absurd thought creeping into his mind. ¡®Could this be the United States of the 20th century?¡¯ He immediately shook the idea off and turned to glance back at the door. Beyond it was still the long, spiraling staircase they had descended. No, they hadn¡¯t somehow teleported. His gaze shifted upward toward the ¡°sky.¡± Instead of stars, it was a dome of swirling clouds, lit sporadically by flashes of lightning. The rumble of distant thunder echoed through the city. But Kayvaan''s trained eyes saw the truth¡ªit was a projection. The sky was nothing more than an elaborate screen, simulating the oncoming storm.


    Amid one of the lightning flashes, he caught a glimpse of towering structures piercing through the false clouds, connecting what seemed like different layers of the city. The colossal architecture was reminiscent of the mythical Tower of Babel, serving as a passage between the upper and lower levels. ¡°What is going on here?¡± Elizabeth muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°Blocks of buildings, streetlights, cars¡­ pedestrians?¡± She paused, visibly struggling to reconcile the scene with reason. After a moment, she composed herself, though her tone was still incredulous. ¡°What kind of underground ruins is this!?¡±

 Chapter 76 - Seraphae

    The scene was undeniably bizarre. The incongruity was almost laughable, like an archaeologist digging into the Mausoleum of the First Emperor and finding a thriving utopia instead of Terracotta Warriors. ¡°Good thing Gustav isn¡¯t here,¡± Kayvaan muttered under his breath. ¡°The poor guy would lose it. He spent months meticulously brushing the surface, thinking he¡¯d unearthed some treasure. If he saw this, it¡¯d break him.¡±


    Elizabeth, still processing, finally spoke. ¡°This is¡­ unsettling. But there are people here. Actual people.¡± She looked at Kayvaan. ¡°The person who passed us just now¡ªwas that a human?¡±


    ¡°It looked human,¡± Kayvaan replied, though his tone carried doubt. ¡°No danger, no psychic signature. But it¡¯s hard to be sure.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded. ¡°If they¡¯re human, then this isn¡¯t an ancient relic¡ªnot in the way we thought. This place is¡­ something else entirely.¡±


    Kayvaan''s brow furrowed. ¡°Then what is this place?¡±


    ¡°Simple,¡± Elizabeth said, her voice steadier now. ¡°We catch someone and ask.¡±


    Just as the group began scanning the area, planning to intercept a pedestrian, a sharp sound broke the tension¡ªrapid, deliberate footsteps. From a nearby alley, a woman in a red windbreaker emerged. Her wide-brimmed hat cast shadows over her face, and her high heels clicked urgently against the pavement. The woman didn¡¯t even hesitate upon seeing the group¡¯s unusual appearance. Instead, she hurried directly to Kayvaan and spoke in a hushed, urgent tone. ¡°You¡¯re outsiders, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Kayvaan blinked, momentarily stunned. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    The woman ignored his question. ¡°There¡¯s no time. Follow me! The streets aren¡¯t safe. The city is crawling with the Eyes of the Devils. We need to leave¡ªnow.¡± She started to walk away but stopped when she realized no one followed. Turning back, she lowered her voice further. ¡°Please, trust me. I won¡¯t harm you. I¡¯ll take you somewhere safe, and we can talk there. But we can¡¯t stay here any longer.¡±


    Kayvaan turned to Elizabeth, his eyes questioning. ¡°Devils?¡±


    Elizabeth shook her head. ¡°No signs of Chaos. She feels human, but I¡¯m not certain.¡±


    Kayvaan considered her words before nodding. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll follow.¡± He turned to the woman. ¡°Lead the way, ma¡¯am. But first, your name?¡±


    ¡°Seraphea,¡± she said hurriedly. ¡°Now come on¡ªthis way.¡±


    As they followed her down a dimly lit alley, Kayvaan pressed further. ¡°Seraphea, where are you taking us?¡±


    ¡°To a hidden shelter,¡± she replied without looking back. ¡°This city¡ªno, this entire world¡ªhas been invaded by beings from beyond. Their Eyes are everywhere, watching, hunting. We must stay out of their sight.¡± The so-called ¡°hidden shelter turned out to be an ordinary apartment in a residential block. Upon entering, Elizabeth¡¯s retinue immediately fanned out, assuming defensive positions. Some guarded the door and windows, ensuring no silent infiltrations, while others meticulously searched each room for hidden threats.


    ¡°They¡¯re thorough,¡± Kayvaan remarked, watching the Sisters work with precision. ¡°One guards the perimeter, another checks for potential enemies. They make sure it¡¯s secure before declaring the space safe. It¡¯s like they¡¯ve done this a thousand times.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Elizabeth responded coolly, ¡°Every Battle Sister is trained to do this. It¡¯s second nature to them. But don¡¯t mistake their actions as a measure of protection for the people inside.¡±


    Kayvaan understood the implication. He sighed but refrained from commenting further. He followed Seraphea upstairs, watching as she unlocked a door and led them into what appeared to be her personal quarters. The room was simple but well-kept, with neat furnishings that suggested someone still lived here. ¡°Please, sit down,¡± Seraphea said warmly, gesturing to the seats. ¡°Make yourselves at home. Would you like something to drink? What do outsiders usually drink?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in a hurry,¡± Kayvaan said bluntly. ¡°No drinks. Just tell us what¡¯s happening here¡ªand about these devils you mentioned.¡±


    Seraphea¡¯s face tightened, but she maintained her composure. ¡°All outsiders are so impatient,¡± she muttered. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll explain. The universe beyond is harsh and unforgiving. Countless horrors lurk in the void, and survival itself is a relentless struggle. ¡°But here¡­¡± Her tone softened. ¡°Here, it¡¯s different. We¡¯ve lived in peace for generations, untouched by war or the tyranny of mankind. This city is a sanctuary, a true paradise where no one suffers, and disputes are resolved peacefully. We¡¯ve built a life far removed from the chaos of the outside world.¡± Her expression darkened. ¡°But that peace ended a week ago. They came¡ªthose devils. They tore apart the harmony of this place.¡±


    ¡°They?¡± Elizabeth asked sharply. ¡°The devils?¡±


    ¡°What else could it be?¡± Seraphea¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°We¡¯ve had outsiders stumble into our world before. They marveled at our tranquility and chose to stay. But these creatures¡­ they¡¯re nothing like anyone we¡¯ve encountered. They severed all connections between the cities and levels, isolating us completely. Now, people are too afraid to leave their homes. The devils hunt openly, roaming the streets and alleys. Most, however, have gathered in the central square.¡±


    ¡°The central square?¡± Kayvaan asked. ¡°Why there?¡±


    Seraphea hesitated before answering. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a circus. A massive tent dominates the square. It looks like something from a grand carnival¡ªbright colors, exaggerated decorations, lively music. But it¡¯s all a facade. Nearly every devils is concentrated there, and every day, they ¡®invite¡¯ residents to attend their performances. No one who enters ever comes back. We don¡¯t know what happens inside, but it¡¯s something terrible.¡±


    ¡°No one resists?¡± Elizabeth¡¯s voice rose, her anger barely contained. ¡°You let yourselves be taken without a fight? Even if you can¡¯t win, better to die standing than to walk into their clutches like sheep!¡±


    Seraphea lowered her gaze, shame etched into her features. ¡°We¡¯ve forgotten how to fight,¡± she admitted. ¡°Our ancestors were warriors, but generations of peace have left us defenseless. We¡¯re powerless against such evil. All we can do is pray¡ªpray for salvation. And then¡­ you came. You¡¯re the answer to our prayers, aren¡¯t you? Please, save us!¡±


    Kayvaan''s expression remained stoic. ¡°We aren¡¯t the warriors of your false gods,¡± he said coldly. ¡°We serve the God-Emperor, and we¡¯re here to eradicate all evil.¡± He turned to Seraphea, his voice firm. ¡°We¡¯ve heard enough. Leave us for now. I need to discuss our next steps with my team. It might involve¡­ unsavory details you wouldn¡¯t want to hear.¡±


    Seraphea hesitated but nodded, retreating quietly. As the door closed behind her, Hilsa entered the room, saluting sharply. ¡°Your Excellency Elizabeth,¡± Hilsa reported. ¡°The apartment is secure. We found no one else inside. However, there¡¯s something odd. While the furniture is intact, there are no signs of life¡ªno personal items, no lingering scents, nothing to suggest this place is truly lived in. Every surface looks carefully cleaned, almost sterile.¡±


    Elizabeth sneered. ¡°As expected. Something is definitely off.¡± She turned to Kayvaan. ¡°So, Commander, what¡¯s our next move?¡±


    ¡°If I had more time, I might have indulged my curiosity¡ªarrested Seraphea, interrogated her, maybe even killed her,¡± Kayvaan thought, scratching his head. ¡°But time isn¡¯t on our side. The clock is ticking, and we can¡¯t waste it on distractions. We¡¯ll deal with these people later if we have to. For now, we focus on the mission.¡± He sighed, his voice tinged with frustration. ¡°And as expected, we¡¯re in trouble. Things always take a turn for the worse the moment we arrive. The Daemons aren¡¯t just guarding the altar¡ªthey¡¯ve hidden it. If we find it, we¡¯ll need to storm that circus and start killing.¡±

 Chapter 77 - Nightmare

    Elizabeth nodded, her expression grim. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Kayvaan turned to Hilsa. ¡°Set up sentries. The team will rest for two hours before we assault the Daemon clowns in the center. Elizabeth, have you reached the Eldar? What¡¯s their status?¡±


    Elizabeth closed her eyes, her breathing steadying as she entered a trance-like state. For a fleeting second, Kayvaan felt as though he glimpsed a fragment of another reality¡ªa place beyond mortal comprehension. A faint flash of light passed through her body, and then she opened her eyes. Only a second had passed.


    ¡°The connection is stable,¡± she reported. ¡°Communication is clear. The Eldar are facing the same issue we are. The Daemons have hidden their altar as well, and they can¡¯t determine which is real. Like us, they have no choice but to attack each one in turn.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it,¡± Kayvaan said, his voice heavy with resignation. ¡°We push through one by one. The enemy¡¯s concentrated, prepared. We charge in, kill everything, and destroy whatever they¡¯re protecting. Then move to the next. Rinse and repeat.¡± He clasped his trembling hands together and shook his head. ¡°What a stupid plan.¡±


    Elizabeth caught the slight tremor. ¡°You¡¯re shaking. Are you afraid?¡± she asked, her tone laced with doubt.


    Kayvaan let out a dry laugh. ¡°Afraid? Me? Astartes know no fear,¡± he replied, forcing a grin. ¡°No, I¡¯m not scared¡ªI¡¯m excited. This will be my first battle against Daemons since¡­ well, since my last one. That fight was where I fell. Back then, we didn¡¯t understand these creatures. We didn¡¯t bother to. We were invincible¡ªor so we thought. We believed that if we didn¡¯t falter, not even the Chaos Gods themselves could defeat us. ¡°But Daemons¡­¡± His voice darkened. ¡°They¡¯re different. You can¡¯t block them with armor alone. The fight isn¡¯t just physical¡ªit¡¯s spiritual, mental. If I could choose, I¡¯d face them on a battlefield I understand. A clash of steel and fire. I want to see how their blood splatters when we finally take them down. Instead, we¡¯re forced to do this¡ªrushing in blind, hacking through whatever stands in our way. It¡¯s crude, it¡¯s reckless, and it¡¯s stupid. But,¡± he added with a faint smirk, ¡°it¡¯s also effective.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°You¡¯d do well to guard your thoughts,¡± she said coldly. ¡°We don¡¯t fight for entertainment. We fight for duty¡ªto fulfill the Emperor¡¯s will.¡±


    Kayvaan laughed¡ªa deep, genuine laugh that echoed through the room. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Inquisitor. I haven¡¯t lost my mind to bloodlust. This is just who I am. In the past, we spread faith through slaughter. Now, we sing hymns to the Emperor with the blood of our enemies. Times have changed, but the battlefield hasn¡¯t. We came, we killed, we conquered¡ªand that will never change.¡±


    Elizabeth frowned but said nothing. Kayvaan''s words were flippant, but she knew better than to take them at face value. His true belief was simpler, harsher. For him, fighting wasn¡¯t a means to spread truth or glorify the Emperor¡ªit was an end in itself. Victory was all that mattered. There were no prayers, no fiery sermons, no stirring speeches. Only the drive to fight and an unshakable faith in victory. And somehow, when Kayvaan spoke, it was impossible not to believe him. His presence alone seemed to make triumph inevitable.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Kayvaan turned to Hilsa. ¡°I¡¯ll take first watch. Let the others rest. This place isn¡¯t kind to anyone, especially Elizabeth. Make sure she¡¯s ready for what¡¯s coming. She¡¯ll need all her strength soon.¡± Elizabeth smiled faintly, for once holding back her sharp tongue. She sank into a chair, exhaustion finally catching up to her. The room fell silent as the team settled in.


    This wasn¡¯t a scene one could find in an interrogation room or written in the crisp pages of a field report. In times of peace, soldiers cloak themselves with courtesy, smiles, and layers of pretense¡ªhiding the harsh reality of what they are to avoid harming others unnecessarily. But here, on the cusp of battle, all illusions were stripped away. Kayvaan stood bare, his polished exterior shredded by the grinding teeth of his unspoken ferocity. In this moment, Elizabeth had a peculiar thought. ¡®This man¡¯, she mused, ¡®was born for the battlefield. There, amidst chaos and carnage, he was most at ease.¡¯ His every word, every movement reflected an authenticity she rarely saw. Here, Kayvaan wasn¡¯t a commander or a soldier; he was simply himself¡ªa predator in his natural habitat.


    Oddly, this version of Kayvaan exuded trust. The eerie spiral staircase, the oppressive atmosphere, the unknowable tension of facing Serapheas¡ªall seemed to dissipate in the warmth of his hearty smile. It wasn¡¯t his physique¡ªKayvaan lacked the broad chest or chiseled features of a stereotypical warrior. It was his demeanor: calm, clean, and reassuring, like the world after a cleansing summer rain.


    Elizabeth couldn¡¯t help but accept his offer of rest. She shed her armor, wrapped herself in her cloak, and lay down on the worn sofa. Within moments, her exhaustion took over, and she drifted into a deep sleep. Kayvaan, stepped out of the room. Gently closing the door, he began his patrol.


    Inside the room, Elizabeth slept soundly, her breathing steady. Yet the rest she sought eluded her entirely. As her mind drifted, her defenses slipped, allowing old nightmares to creep in. Perhaps it was the unnatural tension of this place, or the release of stress after constant vigilance. Whatever the cause, her subconscious betrayed her, dragging her back to the origin of her fears. She dreamed of the sea, its waves receding to reveal a breathtaking underwater world. For a fleeting moment, she felt wonder¡ªbut then the waves returned, crashing down with violent ferocity, sweeping her away.


    The nightmare engulfed her. She was no longer in the room but back at the beginning, where it all started. It was early morning. The sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, dancing lightly on Elizabeth¡¯s lashes. The world was unnervingly silent. No footsteps echoed on the streets. No engines roared, no birds chirped, no dogs barked. It was a silence so absolute that it pressed against her ears, oppressive and suffocating.


    But amidst the silence, two sounds reached her. The first was chewing¡ªwet, visceral, and unnervingly loud. It was the sound of bones cracking, flesh tearing, and blood pooling. The second was faint crying, carried by the wind. A mother and her daughter, sobbing quietly in despair. Elizabeth wanted to open her eyes to see. ¡®Don¡¯t open your eyes!¡¯ a voice screamed in her mind, panicked and insistent. ¡®Don¡¯t look!¡¯ But the Elizabeth of the dream didn¡¯t hear. Her curiosity gnawed at her, and her eyelids fluttered open.

 Chapter 78 - Abellum III

    What she saw would haunt her forever. A massive, red-skinned Daemon crouched at the far side of the room, its grotesque form shrouded in shadows. In one clawed hand, it held the limp body of a Battle Sister, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Her lifeless eyes stared directly at Elizabeth, wide with terror.


    Daemon¡¯s jaws clamped down on the Sister¡¯s slender leg, sharp teeth sinking deep. With a sickening pull, Daemon tore the limb free, flesh and bone ripping apart with wet, squelching sounds. It chewed noisily, savoring the meal. Blood dripped from its maw, pooling on the floor in crimson rivulets. ¡®Stand up!¡¯ her mind roared. ¡®Get up and sing praises to the Emperor as you charge! Stand up, you coward!¡¯ But Elizabeth couldn¡¯t move. She lay paralyzed, her body betraying her.


    She woke with a start, heart racing, drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare receded, but the memories it dredged up lingered. She was back in the Abel system, on Abellum III. It had been her first mission as a novice Battle Sister¡ªa baptism of fire, though one marred by failure. The planet was under siege, not by xenos or traitors but by a far more insidious threat: corruption. Evil thoughts had spread like a plague among the populace, rotting their minds and igniting rebellion. These heretics, drunk on their twisted notion of ¡°freedom,¡± destroyed churches, butchered priests, and desecrated the Emperor¡¯s name. They called it liberation, but it was treachery of the highest order.


    The local Crusaders, few in number, had been overwhelmed. Worse still, the garrison meant to protect the planet had joined the heretics. They threw open the arsenals, arming the mob and plunging the world into chaos. Elizabeth remembered the deployment vividly. Her squad had been sent to purge the rebellion and restore order. But what awaited them was a nightmare. The corruption ran deeper than anyone had anticipated. By the time they realized the extent of the infestation, it was too late.


    This was a carefully orchestrated rebellion, and the mission of Elizabeth¡¯s Sororitas unit was clear: Daemonstrate the Emperor¡¯s might and utterly crush the heresy that had taken root on this forsaken planet. When the Sisters of Battle arrived, it became apparent that the scale of the rebellion had been grossly underestimated. By the time they realized the true scope of the threat, they were already surrounded by the rebellious mob. Yet the Sisters didn¡¯t falter. Clad in faith and bolstered by the Emperor¡¯s blessing, they prayed, sang hymns, and launched a ferocious assault.


    The rebels, though armed, were no warriors. Before taking up weapons, they had been ordinary people¡ªwhite-collar workers, factory laborers, housewives, and even school custodians. Many had never fired a gun before. The weapons in their hands, looted lasguns and poorly maintained rifles, gave them a false sense of power. They mistook the cold weight of a firearm for control, the feel of a wooden stock for authority. Holding the trigger gave them an intoxicating rush¡ªa perverse illusion of being gods, wielding the power to grant or end life with a flick of their fingers. It was an experience far removed from their mundane existence, and it filled them with a reckless confidence.


    That confidence shattered the moment the Sisters charged. The nuns were unrelenting. They ignored the mob¡¯s numbers, their weapons, and their desperate pleas for negotiation. The Sisters carried the Emperor¡¯s will, and there was no compromise in His name. What followed was less a battle and more a massacre. Bolt rounds tore through flesh, ripping bodies into grotesque shreds. The roar of chainswords drowned out screams as the blades cleaved through limbs and torsos. Promethium-fueled flamers reduced heretics to ash, purging their sins in holy fire.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The mob¡¯s overconfidence was like a balloon¡ªbloated and fragile. The Sisters burst it with ease, leaving a field of broken, burned, and bloodied bodies in their wake. Victory, as always, was inevitable under the Emperor¡¯s watchful gaze. But for the Sisters of Battle, victory on the battlefield was never the end¡ªit was merely the beginning.


    Interstellar travel, even in the 41st Millennium, was no small undertaking. The Imperium hadn¡¯t dispatched the Sororitas across tens of thousands of light-years just to win a single skirmish. They were here to solve the problem at its root, to ensure this rebellion would never rise again. The enemy¡¯s defeat didn¡¯t eliminate the heresy; it merely forced it underground. Those who survived the purge¡ªthose who had harbored treacherous thoughts¡ªwould now bury their beliefs deeper. They would seethe in silence, their hatred smoldering, waiting for another opportunity to strike.


    The relatives and friends of the fallen rebels wouldn¡¯t reflect on their sins. Instead, they would blame the Imperium, nursing their grief and resentment like a festering wound. To the Sisters, it was obvious: unless every trace of rebellion was eradicated, another uprising was inevitable. The Sisters of Battle excelled at solving such problems.


    Their mission wasn¡¯t just to win battles but to destroy the seeds of rebellion and the soil in which they grew. If heresy had corrupted minds, then those minds needed purging. If hatred lingered, then its bearers had to be silenced. The innocent and guilty alike were swept up in the Emperor¡¯s cleansing fire because distinguishing between the two was a luxury the Sisters couldn¡¯t afford. Rebellion was a disease, and like any disease, it spread invisibly. Rumors were its vectors, whispers its carriers. Even if you cracked open a heretic¡¯s skull with a chainsword, you couldn¡¯t see the heresy lurking within.


    The purge began anew. This time, the battlefield was the homes of the planet¡¯s inhabitants. The Sisters kicked down doors, storming into houses and rooting out anyone who bore even a hint of heretical thought. Women begged, children screamed, and old men prayed for forgiveness, but the nuns had no time for mercy. Promethium flames and bolt rounds spoke the Emperor¡¯s will. Not everyone was guilty. Some had been swept up by the fervor, afraid to dissent openly. Others had resisted silently, saying nothing but refusing to act. Yet it didn¡¯t matter. Doubt, hesitation, and disobedience were unacceptable risks. The Sisters weren¡¯t here to judge individuals¡ªthey were here to purify the entire population.


    As the purge continued, the heretics grew desperate. Those who had hidden among the crowds, pretending to be innocent, were eventually exposed. Backed into a corner, they revealed their true nature. At first, the rebellion had been fueled by cries of ¡°freedom¡± and ¡°liberation.¡± Now, the heretics screamed ¡°revenge,¡± turning to darker forces to enact it. With the lives of women and children as sacrifices, they performed vile rituals, summoning Daemons to their aid.


    Elizabeth¡¯s team had been tasked with purging a small town. The order was simple: cleanse the settlement of heresy. It was supposed to be a standard operation for the Sisters of Battle, yet when they broke through the door of a nondescript house, the horrors they faced were anything but routine.

 Chapter 79 - Elizabeths Past

    The creature before them was no trembling heretic or defiant mob. It was a Daemon. Its skin was a deep, hellish red, its goat-like horns twisting upward from its grotesque head. Sinful flames flickered in its eyes, and its forked tongue flickered like that of a serpent. Shark-like teeth glinted as it sneered at the nuns, and an aura of palpable malice filled the room.


    Daemon spoke¡ªnot in the crude obscenities of mortals, but in the true language of Chaos. The words were alive with curses, each syllable a desecration of reality itself. It pointed a single clawed finger toward a novice standing near Elizabeth. The girl¡¯s bolter clattered to the ground as her body convulsed violently. Her scream was cut short as her blood began to boil, literally, within her veins. Steam hissed from her skin, and red mist seeped from her eyes, ears, and nose. Moments later, she collapsed, lifeless.


    Daemon grinned, turning its gaze toward another Sister. Sister Lysandria, the team leader, stepped forward, raising her voice above the dread-filled silence. ¡°Faith is your protection!¡± she shouted. ¡°The Emperor¡¯s words are your shield!¡± Her conviction was not in vain. A golden light enveloped her armor, the holy radiance of the Emperor¡¯s divine protection burning away Daemon¡¯s foul sorcery. The misty black tendrils of the creature¡¯s power retreated, unable to touch her. ¡°No Daemon may harm the Emperor¡¯s daughters!¡± Lysandria cried. ¡°Fire, Sisters! Do not fear¡ªour God watches over us! Shoot!¡±


    The bolt guns roared to life. Flamethrowers unleashed streams of holy fire, and the air was thick with the sound of explosions and the acrid stench of promethium. Shells and flames poured toward Daemon, but to no avail. Its crimson flesh seemed to swell, its muscles hardening like iron. Bolt rounds failed to penetrate, and even the searing flames did little more than singe its skin.


    The Sisters faltered. ¡®What manner of monstrosity was this?¡¯ Even ceramite and steel would have crumbled under such an onslaught, yet Daemon stood, unscathed, a grotesque smile on its face. In an instant, it disappeared.


    The next moment, it reappeared behind Sister Spike. Daemon crouched, gripping the powerful Sister with one hand on her shoulders and the other on her thigh. With terrifying ease, it twisted her body as if wringing out a rag. Her legs coiled unnaturally, bones snapping, and Daemon tossed her aside like a broken doll. The Sisters fought valiantly, but the battle quickly devolved into chaos. The room became a cacophony of roaring bolters, jetting flames, and shouts of desperation. The Sisters were overwhelmed, their faith unyielding but their strength insufficient. One by one, they fell.


    Elizabeth¡¯s body slammed into the corner of the room, Daemon¡¯s massive hand striking her like a hammer. The impact twisted her limbs into unnatural angles, and her vision blurred before darkness consumed her. When she regained consciousness, she couldn¡¯t feel her body. Pain radiated from every joint, but she forced herself to breathe, testing her wrists and ankles. Slowly, she realized she could still move, albeit barely.


    Her bolter lay a short distance away, just out of reach. She imagined herself lunging forward, grabbing the weapon, and firing at Daemon. She envisioned charging it with a phosphorus grenade, hoping to take the creature down with her. But no matter how many scenarios she ran through her mind, they all ended the same way: her death and Daemon¡¯s survival.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Elizabeth remained motionless. Fear rooted her to the spot, whispering insidious justifications into her mind. ¡®Daemon is too powerful. It killed us so easily. It treated us like insects. What chance do I have?¡¯


    Even in the heat of the battle, Daemon had fought with an almost casual cruelty, its contempt for the Sisters plain in every movement. Their sacred weapons, their prayers, their faith¡ªit had mocked them all. The disparity in strength was so vast that it felt like a cruel joke. ¡®You¡¯re just a mortal, a weak woman in the face of this monstrosity. What could you possibly do?¡¯ Elizabeth¡¯s thoughts spiraled deeper into despair. She conjured a thousand reasons to justify her inaction, each one more convincing than the last. But deep down, she knew the truth. She could think of a hundred thousand excuses, and they wouldn¡¯t change a thing. Her fear wasn¡¯t logical¡ªit was primal. And yet, bravery doesn¡¯t need logic. ¡®You coward,¡¯ a voice screamed in her mind.¡¯ Have you forgotten the sacred words of the Emperor? Cowards will die of shame! Stand up and fight!¡¯


    The words burned into her heart like fire. Elizabeth clenched her teeth, her breath ragged. Slowly, she extended her hand toward the bolter. Daemon¡¯s monstrous form loomed before her, oblivious to her movement. Its cruel laughter echoed in the room as it toyed with the remains of her Sisters. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the bolter, and in that moment, a spark ignited within her. Not hope¡ªhope was a fragile, fleeting thing¡ªbut rage. The righteous fury of a daughter of the Emperor. ¡®For the Emperor, ¡®she thought, her grip tightening on the weapon. ¡®For my Sisters. For humanity.¡¯  Not all warriors are fearless, and not all nuns are unshakable in their loyalty. The Imperium has its share of weak links, and Elizabeth realized, with dawning horror, that she might be one of them.


    Among the Sisters lost was Eryndis, a senior nun Elizabeth had always admired. She was everything Elizabeth aspired to be¡ªkind, compassionate, a mentor to newcomers, and a stalwart warrior on the battlefield. Eryndis had been the warmth in the grim, cold reality of their crusades. She had treated Elizabeth with gentle care, guiding her through the trials of their shared service. Now, she was unrecognizable. Her broken body lay on the ground, stripped of dignity, Daemon having torn it apart with grotesque indifference. Her legs had been bitten off, her torso ravaged, and her once-kind face twisted in eternal agony. The sight twisted something inside Elizabeth.


    Nearby, Sister Marcellia was still alive, though barely. Her face was a mangled mess, her limbs contorted in impossible directions. Daemon had discarded her like a broken toy, and now she lay moaning weakly, her words incoherent. Elizabeth tried to suppress her anguish. ¡®Do not look, do not hear, do not think.¡¯ She repeated the words like a mantra, but the nightmarish reality seeped through.


    Then she heard new sounds¡ªfootsteps, a woman¡¯s voice murmuring strange, agonized words. Elizabeth opened her eyes just a crack, dreading what she might see. Her worst fears were realized. Suspended in the air by vile, writhing appendages was Sister Lysandria, their leader and mentor. Lysandria had been a paragon of faith, her conviction unyielding, her strength an inspiration to all under her command. The Emperor¡¯s light had shone brightly through her, and her steadfast belief had given hope even in the darkest of battles.


    Now, that light was gone. Daemon had ensnared her with grotesque, vine-like appendages. Two wrapped tightly around her arms, pulling her upward, while others held her legs apart, suspending her in midair like a mockery of the Imperial Aquila. Lysandria¡¯s power armor, once a shining testament to her devotion, was broken and discarded.Elizabeth¡¯s heart sank. How could this happen? Lysandria had been their leader, their protector, a warrior blessed by the Emperor Himself. She had prayed with unshakable resolve, and her faith had always carried them through. Yet here she was, desecrated and broken, a mere plaything for Chaos. ¡®How could she fall? How could she abandon her duty?¡¯

 Chapter 80 - Hopelessness

    Anger surged through Elizabeth, but it was quickly snuffed out by the weight of her own shame. She, too, was hiding. She, too, had failed. How could she judge Lysandria when she herself cowered in the shadows?


    Elizabeth''s eyes filled with tears as she watched Lysandria¡¯s hollow, defeated expression. Her once-proud leader, the Sister who had carried them through countless battles, was no longer recognizable. Her body moved unnaturally, her mind broken, her faith shattered. ¡®What has this world become? What have I become?¡¯


    Elizabeth¡¯s breath hitched as she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She forced herself to look, to truly see the nightmare before her. Daemon¡¯s cruelty, the destruction of her Sisters, Lysandria¡¯s desecration¡ªit all burned into her memory. Her gaze fell on her bolter, lying just out of reach. The same thoughts returned. She could grab it, rise up, and fight. She could throw herself at Daemon, even if only to buy her remaining Sisters a moment of respite.


    But Daemon¡¯s overwhelming power loomed in her mind, and with it, fear crept back in. The memory of how effortlessly it had slaughtered her squad replayed over and over, paralyzing her. ¡®You are weak,¡¯ whispered a voice in her mind. ¡®You are nothing. You will die, and nothing will change.¡¯ Elizabeth bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Another voice, quieter but more resolute, rose within her. ¡®Cowards will die in shame.¡¯


    The words echoed like a tolling bell. They were the Emperor¡¯s words. Words she had recited countless times, but never truly felt until now. Trembling, Elizabeth reached out. Her fingers brushed the bolter¡¯s cold metal, and a spark ignited deep within her. Not hope¡ªhope was fleeting and fragile. What burned in her heart now was rage.  Lysandria had fallen completely, her once-iron resolve drowned under a wave of pain and despair. Shame, duty, and the Emperor¡¯s name¡ªall cast aside. Daemon¡¯s power had overwhelmed her mind, leaving only a hollow shell of what was once the proud leader of their squad.


    Elizabeth¡¯s gaze flickered between her shattered Sisters and the looming Daemon. Her heart wrenched as she fought against the primal instincts clawing at her¡ªa desperate desire to survive. Every lesson she had learned, every word of scripture, told her to fight, to embrace death in the Emperor¡¯s service. Yet, as the horrifying scene unfolded, her body froze, refusing her commands. ¡®Holy Emperor, I beg you. Save me. Grant me strength to fight the evil before me. Give me the courage to end this torment. Protect me, shield me from their sight. I am your servant.¡¯


    The silent prayer offered no solace. Her courage ebbed away, replaced by the gnawing fear of Daemon¡¯s overwhelming power. But as the flames of despair consumed her, something flickered deep within¡ªa faint spark of defiance. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt her limbs respond, an adrenaline-fueled clarity sharpening her senses. Her body surged with newfound strength, and she felt as if the Emperor Himself had breathed life into her failing form.


    Daemon, preoccupied, didn¡¯t notice Elizabeth until it was too late. As thick, viscous fluid poured from one of its severed tentacles, momentarily clouding its vision, Elizabeth moved. She leapt forward, snatching her fallen bolter. ¡°Elizabeth!¡± Marcellia¡¯s broken voice rasped from the floor. ¡°Help us!¡± Her words struck Elizabeth like a hammer. The plea wasn¡¯t for salvation¡ªit was for release. Spock, with her mangled body and unyielding faith, sought only an end to her suffering.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Without hesitation, Elizabeth raised her weapon. The bolter barked three sharp bursts. The first round struck Spock, silencing her cries and granting her peace. The second hit Eryndis, whose desecrated body still hung like a grotesque trophy. The third round, meant for Lysandria, was intercepted by one of Daemon¡¯s writhing appendages. The explosion tore through the tentacle, spraying ichor and blood across the room, but Daemon remained unfazed.


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t stop. She switched to full-auto, her bolter roaring as she emptied the magazine. Explosive rounds tore into Daemon¡¯s grotesque form, shredding flesh but failing to bring it down. As the bolter clicked empty, Elizabeth reached for the last weapon she carried: a small pistol holstered at her thigh.


    The pistol, a standard-issue sidearm, was woefully inadequate against Daemon. Its brass bullets lacked the stopping power of her bolter, but that no longer mattered. The pistol wasn¡¯t meant for Daemon. Elizabeth pressed the barrel to her temple, her breath hitching. Her mind raced with the futility of the situation, the carnage she had witnessed, and the crushing weight of her failure. The Emperor¡¯s daughters had fallen, and she, their last survivor, could not hope to avenge them.


    Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, ¡°Forgive me, Holy Emperor.¡± Her finger trembled on the trigger, but she hesitated. ¡®Pull it. End it now. Do not let them defile you.¡¯ She adjusted her grip, placing the barrel in her mouth. Her thumb hovered over the trigger, her heart pounding in her chest. ¡°You pulled the trigger. I¡¯m impressed,¡± Daemon¡¯s guttural voice rumbled, cutting through the silence like a blade. ¡°But too slow, little mortal. If you¡¯d acted faster, perhaps you might have succeeded.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s eyes widened in shock. She had felt no pain, no release. The pistol hadn¡¯t fired. Instead, a foul, warm liquid filled her mouth, coating her throat with its sickly, metallic taste. Jerking the weapon from her lips, she saw the truth: her pistol had transformed, its barrel warped into a grotesque mockery of itself. ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± Elizabeth stammered, her voice barely a whisper.


    Daemon chuckled, its amusement dripping with malice. ¡°A simple trick,¡± it said, its many tentacles writhing in delight. ¡°Your weapon was dangerous, so I made it¡­ safer. You mortals are so amusing, clinging to your little toys. But your lips¡ªah, so inviting. Watching you wield it was¡­ exhilarating.¡±


    Horror washed over Elizabeth as Daemon advanced, its mocking tone filling the room. She scrambled backward, clutching the useless pistol. Her mind raced, desperate for a way out, but the truth was inescapable. She was trapped. Daemon loomed closer, its twisted form blotting out what little light remained. ¡°No¡­¡± Elizabeth whispered, her voice cracking. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die¡­ I don¡¯t want to be your plaything.¡±


    Daemon laughed, its voice echoing with cruel delight. ¡°Then what do you want, little mortal? Mercy? Salvation? The Emperor you cry out to cannot save you now.¡±


    Tears streamed down her face as she cried out, ¡°Holy Emperor, I beg you! I am your servant, faced with unspeakable evil. Save me! Deliver me from this despair!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late for prayers now,¡± Daemon sneered, its voice a mocking rasp. ¡°Face the truth, little girl. Begging your false Emperor will achieve nothing. What can he do? He is nothing but a rotting corpse on a golden throne, unable even to save himself. How can you expect him to save you?¡±


    The creature¡¯s head tilted as it laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the shattered room. ¡°This is despair, child¡ªpure and unfiltered. Your Emperor¡¯s so-called daughters: one is moaning in rapture above my head, another weeps like a child at my feet, and the rest... well, they¡¯re sizzling nicely on the fire.¡± Daemon spread its clawed arms wide. ¡°Ah, the taste of hopelessness. I never grow tired of it.¡±

 Chapter 81 - Awakening

    The laughter reverberated in Elizabeth¡¯s ears, cutting deeper than any blade. Her mind teetered on the edge of collapse. But then, amidst the cacophony of Daemon¡¯s mockery, something snapped deep within her¡ªa sharp, crystalline sound, like a chain breaking. From the depths of her being, an unfamiliar strength surged forward.


    Daemon froze mid-laugh, its grotesque smile faltering. The air around Elizabeth grew heavy, charged with an invisible force. The psychic storm brewing within her was unmistakable. Chaos creatures were born in the Warp; they thrived in its energy. But even they understood the terror of unbridled, awakening psychic power. ¡°No!¡± Daemon barked, its voice suddenly laced with urgency. ¡°A psyker awakening!? At this level!? Damn it¡ªretreat!¡±


    With a flick of its claws, it seized Lysandria, wrapping her in its tentacles, and hurled itself through the shattered window. The other lesser Daemons abandoned their grotesque feast and vanished into the shadows, fleeing like rats.


    But it was too late. Elizabeth¡¯s eyes glowed with a searing blue light, psychic energy spilling from them like an untamed flame. She reached out with her hand, and the broken chainsword on the floor flew into her grasp, its motor roaring to life as if drawn by her fury. Her psychic power coursed through the weapon, infusing the blade with an ethereal glow that danced along its serrated teeth.


    The air around her crackled with energy. Pointing the chainsword at the fleeing Daemon, Elizabeth unleashed her rage. The weapon, now a missile of vengeance, tore through the air with terrifying speed, spinning like a cyclone. The blade struck true, severing six of Daemon¡¯s tentacles in one sweep. Black ichor sprayed across the ruined street, and the creature staggered, roaring in pain. Daemon hesitated for only a moment before retreating faster, dragging its mangled form and Lysandria into the distance. With a final, spiteful glare, its figure flickered and disappeared into the ether.


    Elizabeth stepped outside, her chainsword hovering beside her like a sentinel. The town lay in ruins, its once-vibrant streets now filled with shadows and despair. Ghostly figures of the slain swayed in the corners of her vision, remnants of lives lost to the corruption of Chaos.


    The signs of Chaos¡¯s infestation were everywhere: blood flowed from the small fountain in the square, its crimson spray staining the cobblestones. A spire of human skulls loomed in the distance, a grotesque monument to the invaders¡¯ dominance. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and ozone. Above, the stars had shifted unnaturally, forming constellations no human eye could recognize. And in the sky, a red-tailed comet streaked like a herald of doom.


    Elizabeth¡¯s heart ached as she took in the devastation. This had once been a world of peace and order. Its people had lived simple lives under the Emperor¡¯s protection, content and faithful. They had homes, food, and hope. But that was before Chaos arrived. Before the Sisters were sent to purge the corruption. Before hatred and fear had buried themselves so deeply in the hearts of mortals that only fire could cleanse them.


    If only someone had seen the signs earlier, she thought. If only they had acted before Chaos¡¯s tendrils could take root. Perhaps then the children would still be laughing. The men would not be consumed by rage. The women would not weep in despair. Elizabeth looked up at the swirling clouds, her body trembling as psychic energy erupted from every pore. Her soul burned, torn between grief and fury. ¡®This cannot be undone,¡¯ she thought. ¡®But it can be avenged.¡¯Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The psychic storm within her built to a crescendo. Lightning crackled around her, leaping from her fingertips and arcing into the sky. The roiling storm above answered her fury, thunder rumbling like the Emperor¡¯s wrath. With a roar, Elizabeth unleashed her power. Bolts of searing blue lightning tore from the heavens, lashing the town like the whip of an angry god. The streets erupted in flames, shadows disintegrated, and the taint of Chaos burned away.


    The lesser Daemons that had lingered in the shadows were obliterated, their shrieks drowned out by the roar of the storm. Houses crumbled, fountains shattered, and the spire of skulls was reduced to ash. Elizabeth stood at the center of the tempest, a beacon of destruction. Her body was wreathed in lightning, her eyes blazing with the Emperor¡¯s fury. The town was no longer a place¡ªit was a scorched wasteland, purged of both life and corruption.


    When the storm subsided, Elizabeth fell to her knees, smoke rising from the ground around her. The air was heavy with ash and the acrid scent of ozone. Nothing remained. No heretics, no Daemons, no innocents. Just blackened earth and a lone survivor. Elizabeth stared at the ground, her hands trembling. She had eradicated the taint of Chaos, but at what cost? Was this justice, or had she simply destroyed what she could not save?


    She looked up at the storm-clouded sky. ¡°Holy Emperor,¡± she whispered, her voice hoarse. ¡°Was this your will?¡± The heavens were silent.


    After a brief rest, Elizabeth completed her work and left. On the scorched earth where the town once stood, a single wooden cross remained, rising like a stark monument against the charred landscape. On the cross were engraved the names of her entire team¡ªevery Sister of Battle who had perished in the confrontation. Each name bore testament to their courage, their unyielding faith, and their ultimate sacrifice.


    At the bottom of the list, carved with the same unassuming precision, was Elizabeth¡¯s own name. Yes, she had died there too¡ªnot in body, but in spirit. The moment fear overtook her, the glory she once held as a Sister of Battle was stripped away. Now, she was nothing more than a dangerous psyker, cursed by the very powers that had saved her life.


    Elizabeth had crafted the cross as a tombstone for her Sisters and for the version of herself that had died alongside them. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she had fallen in battle with them, that her name on the cross truly marked the end of her existence. But the cruel reality was that Elizabeth still lived. Her Sisters¡¯ glory had been extinguished in their deaths, and all that remained for her was the curse of her psychic awakening. What was she now? A rogue psyker, unchained and untethered, her existence a walking contradiction of loyalty and danger.


    Psychic power was rare¡ªa one-in-ten-thousand occurrence¡ªand it was both a gift and a curse. To humanity, it was more often the latter. Psykers were doorways, fragile barriers between the material realm and the Warp. Daemons hunted psykers¡¯ souls from the shadows, using their bodies as vessels to step into the mortal plane. The thought filled Elizabeth with dread. She had seen firsthand the devastation wrought by Chaos¡ªhow a single Daemon could annihilate a village, how a host of them could reduce a planet to ruin. And now she was a potential doorway to that same evil. Her very existence was a threat to the Imperium. Every moment she lived, she risked becoming the instrument of humanity¡¯s undoing. The weight of that knowledge drove her to the edge of despair. On many occasions, she considered ending her life, believing her death would protect the Emperor¡¯s people from the dangers she embodied. But each time, the memory of her awakening stopped her.

 Chapter 82 - I Wont

    In the deepest abyss of despair, when all seemed lost, her psychic powers had emerged. The Emperor had not answered her prayers directly, but something greater than coincidence had granted her the strength to survive. Her awakening had driven the Daemons to flee, and though the God-Emperor had not spoken, Elizabeth saw it as a sign. He was still watching. He was still protecting her, even in her weakest, most unworthy state. The Emperor had preserved her life for a reason. ¡®If He has granted me this existence, then who am I to throw it away?¡¯


    Her survival was not hers to take. If she were to die, it would be on the battlefield, not by her own hand. She resolved to use the cursed strength she had been given to destroy Chaos wherever it lingered. And besides, Lysandria was not truly gone. Elizabeth owed her one more bolt round. She could not rest until that debt was paid. To avoid drawing the Imperium¡¯s attention, Elizabeth left the Emperor¡¯s service, becoming a rogue wanderer on the wasteland. Wherever she found Chaos, she struck mercilessly, tearing apart the taint with her psychic wrath.


    Her crusade continued until one fateful encounter. The woman who found her was unlike any enemy Elizabeth had faced. Her features were blurred in Elizabeth¡¯s memory, but her presence was unforgettable. She exuded power that defied comprehension, moving through Elizabeth¡¯s psychic lightning as though it were no more than a gentle breeze. The lightning arced around her harmlessly, dissipating into nothingness.


    Elizabeth barely had time to react before the woman closed the distance, seizing her by the throat with an iron grip. Elizabeth gasped, choking as her vision blurred. She closed her eyes, certain death had come at last. ¡°Elizabeth,¡± a voice spoke, low and steady.


    Her eyes snapped open. It wasn¡¯t the woman speaking¡ªit was a man. The voice was too familiar, too real. As her vision cleared, she saw the concerned face of Captain Kayvaan. ¡°Elizabeth, are you all right? Wake up!¡±


    Reality reasserted itself. She wasn¡¯t on scorched wasteland or gripped by an all-powerful being. She was back with the team, lying on the cold floor of the hive city. ¡°I¡­ I just had a nightmare,¡± she said hoarsely, trying to compose herself. ¡°A little headache. It¡¯s nothing. Thank you for your concern.¡±


    Kayvaan''s frown deepened. ¡°The rest period is over,¡± he said after a moment, his voice cautious. ¡°You still have five minutes to prepare. We move out soon.¡±


    Elizabeth nodded. ¡°Understood. Please, give me a moment to get ready.¡± Kayvaan hesitated before leaving, concern still evident on his face.


    Five minutes later, the raid team assembled and set off.  In the heart of the ruined city, the central square was dominated by a massive red tent. Its garish colors and grotesque design stood in stark contrast to the desolation surrounding it. Huge, ghost-faced balloons floated ominously above the tent, their grinning visages twisted into macabre mockeries of joy. Below, a broken carousel lay discarded by the entrance, its once-beautiful wooden horses savagely dismembered.


    Outside the tent, pink cartoonish rabbits wandered aimlessly. At first glance, they resembled harmless mascots one might see at a festival, their bright colors and oversized features a parody of innocence. But a closer look revealed the truth. Their ears, like enormous scissors, gleamed wickedly in the dim light. Their eyes glowed a menacing red, scanning hungrily for prey, while their toothy grins displayed rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. The square was littered with the corpses of these monstrous rabbits, each cleaved cleanly in half. The blood that once pooled around them had long since congealed, leaving dark, crusted stains on the ground.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Looming over the square, several massive loudspeakers blasted harsh, distorted heavy metal music. The cacophony was punctuated by the sound of a broken gong, its desperate clanging merging with the growling basslines to create a soundscape of madness. From the vantage point of an abandoned building overlooking the square, Captain Kayvaan observed the spectacle through a cracked window. ¡°So this is why the city¡¯s central district is abandoned,¡± Kayvaan remarked, his voice tinged with grim humor. ¡°Nobody wants to live next to neighbors this noisy. They¡¯ve even made it look like a circus. It¡¯s almost convincing¡ªif you ignore the corpses.¡±


    Elizabeth stood nearby, her power armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. She shook her head, her expression dark. ¡°It¡¯s like something out of a twisted fairy tale. No child would find this amusing¡ªit¡¯s the stuff of nightmares.¡± Kayvaan nodded. ¡°Agreed. Let¡¯s end it. What¡¯s your plan?¡±


    ¡°I say we charge in,¡± Elizabeth replied. ¡°Hit them with overwhelming firepower. No subtlety, just a direct assault. Destroy everything that moves and leave no survivors.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned. ¡°Too reckless. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s inside that tent. Charging in blindly is a sure way to die. Let me infiltrate first.¡± He pointed toward the massive red structure. ¡°I¡¯ll scout the area, figure out their numbers, and locate their leaders. Once I¡¯ve got intel, we coordinate an assault. If everything lines up, I¡¯ll hit them from the inside, and you charge in to clean up the rest.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice rose slightly, her tone sharp. ¡°You want to infiltrate alone? Do you even understand what you¡¯re up against? These aren¡¯t just mutants or heretics¡ªthey¡¯re Daemons. They wield weapons beyond our understanding and abilities that can assault your very soul. You can¡¯t face them alone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve dealt with them before,¡± Kayvaan said calmly. ¡°I know the risks. Look at those rabbits wandering the square¡ªthey¡¯re clearly sentinels. Their hearing must be excellent, even if their ears look like scissors. With all of you in power armor, the noise would alert them immediately. You¡¯d never make it to the tent without being noticed. I¡¯m the only one here who can move quietly enough for this job.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°You¡¯re taking an unnecessary risk. This isn¡¯t a battle you can win with stealth alone. Are you sure about this?¡±


    Kayvaan gestured toward the tent. ¡°Listen to that music. It¡¯s deafening. Judging by the noise, they¡¯re holding some kind of gathering in there¡ªa concert, maybe. That works to our advantage. With so many of them focused on the stage, slipping past unnoticed should be easier. Besides,¡± he added, patting his gear-laden waist, ¡°I¡¯ve brought plenty of surprises for them. Let me do my job.¡±


    Elizabeth remained unconvinced. ¡°We could storm the place together. A sudden assault with all our firepower would overwhelm their defenses. Rushing in might not be as reckless as you think.¡±


    Kayvaan''s tone turned serious. ¡°Your plan is the real gamble. A head-on assault without knowing what we¡¯re facing? That¡¯s inviting disaster. Your Excellency Elizabeth, I am the commander here. Let me do this.¡±


    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Elizabeth sighed and nodded. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re the commander. But don¡¯t let your confidence blind you to the danger. These are not ordinary foes.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Kayvaan assured her. ¡°You know the code if anything goes wrong.¡±


    Elizabeth and the Sisters took cover, preparing to launch their assault if the situation demanded it. Meanwhile, Kayvaan activated his optical cloak, his form shimmering briefly before vanishing entirely.


    Time passed slowly, marked only by the growing tension in Elizabeth¡¯s heart and the absence of any sign from Kayvaan. The Sisters stood at their positions, weapons trained on the grotesque sentinel rabbits patrolling the square. Every subtle movement of the pink monstrosities was watched, every potential omen of aggression analyzed. The bolters were primed to fire, ready to turn the creatures into splattered remains at the first sign of danger. But nothing changed.

 Chapter 83 - Circus

    The rabbits continued their slow, aimless wandering, oblivious to the crosshairs trained on them. The garish, bloodthirsty music roared unabated from the tent¡¯s massive loudspeakers, filling the square with a pounding cacophony. To Daemons inside, all seemed normal¡ªjust another day in their mockery of existence. Then, five minutes later, Kayvaan''s voice crackled through the communicator. ¡°I¡¯ve successfully infiltrated,¡± he reported, his tone steady.


    Elizabeth exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remain calm. ¡°What¡¯s the situation inside?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s... chaotic,¡± Kayvaan replied. ¡°Hard to describe in words. I¡¯m establishing a video feed. Stand by for visuals¡ªyou¡¯ll want to see this for yourself.¡±


    Moments later, Elizabeth received the feed. Through the lens of Kayvaan''s monocular goggles, the interior of the massive red tent came into view. At first glance, it resembled an ordinary circus. The center of the tent held a circular stage, its edges bordered by tiered seating that rose in concentric levels, giving the audience a clear view of the spectacle below. Every seat was filled, the spectators eagerly leaning forward to catch every moment of the show. On the stage, an animal trainer dressed in an elaborate, gaudy costume stood holding a long whip. The roaring heavy metal music served as an almost absurd backdrop to what appeared to be a performance in progress.


    The star of the show was a massive golden lion. Its mane shimmered like sunlight, and its powerful body exuded an air of regal authority. It moved with deliberate slowness, head held high, as if basking in the adoration of the audience. Its roar rolled through the tent like thunder, momentarily drowning out even the blaring music. Then, the music stopped abruptly, signaling the beginning of the act. The trainer snapped his whip with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the tent. Without hesitation, he lashed the whip across the lion¡¯s back, the barbs tearing into its flesh and leaving a vivid gash that dripped crimson onto the stage.


    The lion¡¯s face twisted in pain, a low growl rumbling from deep in its throat. It seemed ready to lash out, yet it held its ground, motionless save for the tremors running through its massive frame. The audience erupted in cheers and frenzied laughter, their inhuman voices rising in a cacophony of gleeful malice. Encouraged by the reaction, the trainer cracked his whip again, this time striking the lion¡¯s back even harder.


    Another bloody wound opened on the lion¡¯s golden hide, and it let out a deafening roar of pain. Yet, inexplicably, it remained stationary, enduring the punishment without resistance. The trainer, emboldened by the crowd¡¯s enthusiasm, began to whirl his whip above his head. The barbed length spun faster and faster, the air around it vibrating with the force of its motion. Finally, with a dramatic flourish, he snapped the whip horizontally across the lion¡¯s face.


    The impact was sickening, a wet crack that silenced the crowd for a moment. Then, to everyone¡¯s shock, the lion stood upright on its hind legs, its enormous body towering over the trainer. ¡°What a fool!¡± the lion bellowed, its deep voice reverberating through the tent. ¡°It hurts so much! And it feels so good!¡±


    The trainer froze, his panting breaths visible even from the camera feed. ¡°Now comes the most thrilling part of the performance!¡± the lion declared, its voice dripping with mockery. ¡°Will this hapless trainer survive? Stay tuned, my dear audience!¡± The lion crouched slightly, its massive jaws parting to reveal rows of dagger-like teeth. ¡°Go on, human. Continue the show! Don¡¯t keep me waiting.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The trainer¡¯s entire body trembled as he approached the lion, his movements stiff and mechanical. The drumbeat of the accompanying music grew louder, faster, driving the tension higher. ¡°Be bold!¡± the lion taunted. ¡°Show some courage! Don¡¯t be afraid¡ªI promise not to eat you. Not yet, anyway. It¡¯s all part of the act, isn¡¯t it? Come on, my jaw¡¯s starting to ache from holding this pose.¡±


    The trainer hesitated for a moment, but under the lion¡¯s unyielding gaze, he had no choice. Slowly, he knelt and, with a trembling hand, guided his head into the gaping maw of the beast. The lion¡¯s voice, now muffled by the trainer¡¯s head inside its mouth, rang out again, jubilant and theatrical. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen! Behold the bravery of this fool! See how he risks his life for your entertainment. Isn¡¯t this the most daring act you¡¯ve ever witnessed? Isn¡¯t it worthy of your applause?¡±


    A burst of laughter erupted from the audience, followed by sporadic applause. The rapid drumbeats reached a crescendo and abruptly stopped. The animal trainer, visibly trembling, nearly collapsed to the ground in relief. "Very good," the lion said, its deep voice dripping with mockery. "You¡¯re quite brave. Now, withdraw your head from my mouth." The trainer complied slowly, pulling his head out of the lion¡¯s massive jaws. The lion closed its mouth with a grin that seemed almost too wide. "The performance was a success. The audience cheered for you. They applauded your bravery. But don¡¯t relax just yet. Turn around and accept their praise¡ªit¡¯s your moment in the spotlight."


    The music softened, the heavy basslines replaced with a strange cacophony of sounds from the audience: angry growls, disgruntled murmurs, delighted screams, and sparse clapping. The trainer finally began to relax, convinced the act was over and his life was safe. He turned to face the audience, bowing deeply to acknowledge their applause. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over his face. But as he straightened, all he saw was a blood-soaked maw descending toward him.


    The giant lion lunged from behind, swallowing the trainer whole in a single bite. The audience erupted into thunderous applause and gleeful laughter, their excitement palpable. "Ha! This fool thought he¡¯d live!" the lion roared, rearing onto its hind legs like a triumphant boxer. Raising its paws in the air, it basked in the adulation. "Did you see his face? I lied to him! Hahahaha!"


    ¡°All the spectators here are Daemons,¡± Kayvaan whispered over the communicator. ¡°The performers in this circus are higher-ranking Daemons, and the others might be local residents forced to play their roles¡ªor something worse. Every so-called animal performer here is a Daemon in disguise. And that lion? He¡¯s the ringleader. The strongest of them all.¡±


    Through the feed, Elizabeth could see the grotesque show continuing. A white-haired poodle trotted onto the stage, holding a whip in its mouth. Following behind it were several humans crawling on all fours. Metal collars encircled their necks, and their tongues lolled grotesquely from their mouths. The poodle cracked the whip with surprising force, compelling the humans to perform degrading acts: rolling over, jumping through fiery hoops, and bowing deeply to the audience. Each act elicited uproarious laughter from the Daemonic spectators. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, her disgust bubbling into rage. She turned away from the feed, addressing Kayvaan. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen the inside,¡± Kayvaan replied. ¡°This place is a hellish fortress. There are too many of them. Even if we stormed in with heavy weapons, it¡¯d be nearly impossible to take them all down. But I brought plenty of explosives. Let¡¯s start with a bang and work from there.¡±


    Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll plant a remote bomb to cause maximum chaos,¡± Kayvaan explained. ¡°The explosion will create panic, and Daemons will rush toward the gate. That¡¯s where you come in. Position your team at the entrance. When they bottleneck, unload everything you¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°What if they break through the tent itself?¡±

 Chapter 84 - Explosive

    ¡°This tent isn¡¯t what it seems,¡± Kayvaan said. ¡°It looks flimsy, but my monomolecular blade couldn¡¯t even scratch it. Whatever it¡¯s made of, it¡¯s tougher than most fortifications I¡¯ve seen. The only way in or out is the main gate. Trust me, this will work. Be ready to storm the gate once the explosion goes off.¡±


    Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°Alright. Kayvaan, I like this plan.¡±


    Kayvaan chuckled. ¡°Try not to fall in love with me.¡± He ended the communication before Elizabeth could retort, his focus shifting to the delicate task ahead.


    Even among the Space Marines, few were true masters of demolitions. It wasn¡¯t that they lacked knowledge¡ªany soldier could place a bomb and press a detonator. For most, this basic level of competence was enough. But to wield explosives with surgical precision, crafting destruction with intent and control, required a unique blend of skill and instinct. Kayvaan was one of those rare experts. During his time training in behind-enemy-lines tactics, he had excelled in every course on explosives, earning top marks. His instructor, however, had mixed feelings about his enthusiasm for destruction. "You¡¯ve got a dark streak, Kayvaan," the instructor had remarked once. "Hiding in a corner, pressing a button, and watching the enemy get torn apart¡ªdoes that really satisfy you?"


    Kayvaan had grinned unapologetically. "Absolutely." The instructor had said no more after that. While he may have disapproved of Kayvaan''s methods, he couldn¡¯t deny their effectiveness. In war, the only objective was victory. How that victory was achieved was left to the soldier''s discretion.


    Kayvaan''s bomb placement proceeded smoothly. The Daemons'' attention was entirely focused on the grotesque circus performance. To him¡ªand perhaps to Elizabeth¡ªthe show was an obscene mockery of all that was good and natural. But to the gathered Daemons, it was high art. The massive golden lion, the star of the spectacle, had turned traditional roles on their heads. It commanded the stage like an emperor, lording over trembling human "trainers" who cowered like beaten beasts. The Daemons reveled in this inversion, their grotesque laughter filling the air. They took twisted delight in human despair, reveling in the perverse aesthetics of pain and power.


    The Chaos realm adhered to its own perverted hierarchy. The strong preyed on the weak, and survival was a privilege earned through cruelty and cunning. Low-ranking Daemons, often little more than fodder, lived in constant fear but took what pleasures they could. For them, the mortal realm was a playground¡ªa respite from the endless torment of the Warp. Here, they could unleash their creative evils upon unsuspecting humans. Some Daemons found joy in gluttony, cooking and devouring their captives. Others were consumed by carnal obsessions, violating their victims without regard for species, gender, or form. Their actions transcended even the most depraved imaginations of humanity. For Daemons, each foray into the mortal plane was a festival of perverse innovation¡ªa celebration of malice and chaos.


    The lion¡¯s circus had clearly succeeded in entertaining its infernal audience. Applause thundered across the venue, mingling with the distant, despairing cries of humans. But none of this concerned Kayvaan. Neither he nor Elizabeth had voiced the inevitable question: ¡®What about the humans in the circus?¡¯


    They were innocent, yes¡ªbut in this grim and unrelenting galaxy, innocence was its own crime. Weakness and submission were the ultimate sins. In the darkness of the 41st millennium, salvation was a fleeting hope. Those who lacked the will to fight or the faith to endure were left to perish. The Emperor''s protection was reserved for the faithful and the resolute. Kayvaan had no illusions about heroism. He wasn¡¯t here to save anyone. His only goal was the destruction of the circus and the elimination of its Daemonic occupants. He worked methodically, placing his charges beneath the tiered seating, ensuring maximum carnage with minimal effort.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The Astartes were warriors first and foremost. Their role as humanity¡¯s guardians came second. Killing was their craft, and Kayvaan intended to practice his with precision. The performance¡¯s grotesque success worked to Kayvaan''s advantage, allowing him to plant the final bomb without interference. He selected a vantage point, concealed himself, and activated his communicator. "Elizabeth, get ready. It¡¯s showtime."


    "Weapons are primed. The sisters are eager," Elizabeth replied.


    "Then prepare to dance in a storm of fire," Kayvaan said with a grin, pressing the detonator.


    The explosion ripped through the air moments later, deafening and violent. An entire section of the stands disintegrated in an instant. Smoke and flames engulfed the tent, obscuring visibility, but the devastation was clear. Daemons seated near the blast were obliterated, their bodies shredded into chunks of scorched flesh and bone. The remains splattered against the tent¡¯s inner walls, painting them with viscera. Those farther from the epicenter fared no better; the intense heat seared them to charred husks, their once-vivid forms reduced to brittle shells.


    The circus tent itself groaned under the force of the explosion but remained intact, a testament to its unnatural construction. The Daemons, however, were thrown into chaos. Shrieks of panic and confusion replaced their earlier jeers and laughter. Kayvaan''s voice crackled through the communicator. "That¡¯s your cue, Elizabeth. Light them up."


    Elizabeth nodded, her voice steely with resolve. "Understood. Sisters, prepare to advance! The Emperor protects!"


    ¡°The power was sufficient, but the explosion range wasn¡¯t as extensive as expected,¡± Kayvaan muttered, assessing the aftermath through his goggles. ¡°Elizabeth, how¡¯s it going on your end?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re engaging,¡± Elizabeth responded tersely. She and her squad of former Sisters of Battle moved in formation, emerging from their concealed position. The explosion in the tent had drawn the attention of the pink sentinel rabbits, leaving their defenses momentarily vulnerable. Elizabeth seized the opportunity, leading her team in a swift, decisive assault.


    These women were no ordinary soldiers; they were elite warriors forged in the fires of faith and battle. Their discipline was unshakable, even in the depths of a hellish hive city far from the Emperor¡¯s light. Their bolters barked in controlled, precise bursts, mowing down the distracted sentinels with ruthless efficiency.


    The first volley wreaked havoc among the enemy ranks, but the reprieve was short-lived. The sentinel rabbits quickly adapted, springing and darting to avoid incoming fire. Their blood-red eyes gleamed with malicious intent as they began pulling weapons from their strange, furry bodies. Soon, bolts of energy screamed through the air as the rabbits counterattacked.


    Luck, it seemed, was not on the nuns¡¯ side. A single explosive bolt struck a squadmate at close range, her breastplate offering no protection against the devastating payload. She disintegrated in a mist of blood and viscera, her death a stark reminder of the stakes. ¡°Damn it!¡± Hilsa cursed as she dropped a rabbit mid-leap with a precise burst. ¡°Where the hell are these things hiding bolters?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t all have bolters,¡± Elizabeth shouted, crushing another rabbit¡¯s head beneath her boot after blasting its legs apart. ¡°Prioritize those that do. Focus your fire!¡±


    As if to punctuate her words, Elizabeth raised her chainsword just in time to meet a charging sentinel. The rabbit lunged at her, its scissor-like ears snapping viciously, but Elizabeth¡¯s blade roared to life. Teeth spinning, the weapon bit into the creature¡¯s skull, reducing it to a spray of gore and fur. Shortly after the first explosion, Elizabeth¡¯s voice crackled through Kayvaan''s communicator. ¡°We¡¯ve reached the designated position. Fortifications are underway, heavy weapons are in place, and we¡¯re ready to engage.¡±


    ¡°Copy that,¡± Kayvaan replied. ¡°You¡¯re faster than I expected. But don¡¯t rush¡ªwe¡¯ve got things under control here.¡±

 Chapter 85 - The Golden Lion

    Inside the tent, the Daemons were in disarray. The explosion had sent shockwaves of panic through the crowd. Some Daemons, wounded but not dead, writhed on the ground, groaning in agony. Others staggered about, dazed and confused, while a few merely gawked, speculating wildly about what had just occurred. ¡°Was that part of the show? A surprise performance?¡± one Daemon mused aloud.


    ¡°No way. That was a full-blown explosion! Half the idiots in the front row are dead!¡± another growled.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s punishment for the lack of applause earlier,¡± a third Daemon speculated nervously. ¡°The Golden Lion hates being booed.¡±


    The mere thought caused a ripple of fear to pass through the audience. Some began clapping frantically, desperate to avoid the lion¡¯s wrath.


    ¡°Bravo! More fireworks!¡±


    ¡°Beautiful display, truly artistic!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s have another big bang!¡±


    The chaos reached a fever pitch until the lion itself roared. The sound was thunderous, distorting the very air with its raw power. The cacophony ceased as all eyes turned to the stage. ¡°Silence!¡± the lion bellowed, its voice commanding. ¡°We are under attack! Stay calm and¡ª¡±


    Kayvaan, crouched in his hiding spot, smirked and pressed the detonator again. The second explosion ripped through the tent with even greater ferocity than the first. Flames roared, painting the interior in hues of orange and red. Daemonic bodies were torn asunder, their flesh and ichor splattering across the grotesque walls of the tent.


    Panic spread like wildfire. The golden lion¡¯s attempt at control was drowned in the cacophony of screams and wails. The once-confident Daemons now scrambled in terror, their bloodlust replaced with confusion and dread.


    ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s it coming from?¡±


    ¡°Who dares?!¡±


    But no answers came. The Daemons were blind to the source of their torment, their frustration mounting with every passing second.


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice cut through the chaos over the communicator. ¡°The second explosion was effective. The Daemons are scattered. Ready to advance.¡±


    Elizabeth''s voice brimmed with delight as she pulled the trigger, her grin widening. "There''s a little bird singing in my heart," she declared cheerfully. "Kayvaan, if you keep delivering battles like this, I¡¯m pretty sure the girls will fall head over heels for you. Who could resist a captain like that? But you know what? I want more¡ªI want this happiness to keep growing." Her shout rang out over the chaos: "Heavy weapons team, step forward! Set up and fire freely once you''re in position!"


    Moments later, the unmistakable roar of the Vulcan gun echoed through the comms. Even the power-armored combat sisters couldn¡¯t wield such a devastating weapon without care. They quickly secured a defensible spot, anchoring the massive cannon. Then, the storm began¡ªa hail of bolt rounds slicing through the battlefield like a scythe. The relentless barrage shredded anything in its path, sparing no Daemon foolish enough to stand before it.


    Meanwhile, inside the chaotic camp, some Daemons finally realized the danger outside. But their attempts to organize and counter were cut short¡ªliterally. Bolt rounds screamed through the air, drilling into their skulls with deadly precision before erupting in violent explosions. Amid the chaos, Kayvaan moved silently out of cover, his sniper rifle steady in his hands. Each pull of the trigger brought him a quiet satisfaction as another Daemon fell, their lifeless bodies collapsing amidst the carnage.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The Golden Lion¡¯s furious roar tore through the battlefield as he lashed out at everything around him. "Who did this? What miserable bastard dared ruin my performance?!" His voice was raw with rage as he turned on his own subordinates, clawing and striking at anything that moved.


    This was an insult like no other. No one had ever humiliated him like this¡ªslaughtering his followers, wrecking his grand spectacle, and dragging his dignity through the muck. It was a bitter irony, one he despised. He often played these very roles: the predator sowing panic among prey, turning his performances into grotesque mockeries of human order. Yet now, the tables had turned, and he was the one being toyed with¡ªan ironic twist that cut deeper than any blade.


    The Golden Lion had reveled in countless performances, unleashing chaos on terrified crowds and chasing them down like prey. But now, his own circus of Daemons was reduced to a panicked, mindless rabble, scattering before an invisible enemy that mocked him from the shadows. The fury in his chest burned hotter with every passing second. He couldn''t deny the cause of this disaster. That damn unstable Warp gate was the root of it all. When his circus crossed into the Materium, they¡¯d barely survived. The treacherous passage through the Immaterium had torn apart his strongest officers, leaving him with nothing but dregs¡ªmindless, gibbering cannon fodder. Without his officers to keep order, the lowest of his kin ran wild, incapable of coherent action.


    The Golden Lion had cursed the Warp gate as soon as he saw it, knowing the risks. And yet, by some cruel twist of fate¡ªor perhaps the twisted favor of Slaanesh¡ªhe alone had survived intact. Most of his subordinates weren¡¯t so lucky. Their forms had been shredded by the unstable energies, their essence lost forever in the void. Those who made it through were broken, and the ones left behind were even worse: mindless imbeciles driven purely by primal urges. He grabbed a hapless, eyeless Daemon that scurried past him and, with a roar, ripped it in half. Blood sprayed over his golden mane as he snarled, "Who dares humiliate me like this? If you have any courage, come out and face me! Stop hiding in the dark like a coward!"


    Outside the tent, Elizabeth felt the pressure mounting. Continuous firing had pushed several weapons to their limits, the barrels glowing red-hot. It was time to change tactics. "Flamethrower team, step forward!" she commanded, her voice sharp and clear. Two Sisters of Battle carrying the iconic flamers of the Adepta Sororitas advanced to the front lines. "When you¡¯re ready, light it up. Let these remnants of Chaos feel the Emperor¡¯s judgment. Give them a proper, fiery welcome."


    Twin jets of golden flame roared forth, flooding the tent¡¯s entrance in holy fire. The purifying blaze consumed everything it touched, burning away the unclean and vile. Elizabeth watched the inferno with closed eyes, inhaling deeply as if savoring a fine wine. The screams of the dying Daemons mixed with the acrid scent of scorched flesh, a sickly-sweet aroma that made her shiver with dark satisfaction.


    There was no greater moment in her life than this¡ªstanding amidst the slaughter of Chaos abominations. Only in these brutal acts of destruction did Elizabeth feel a fleeting sense of fulfillment. Yet even in the euphoria, she knew the void in her heart would return, deeper and darker. It was a cruel cycle, an unending thirst for vengeance and blood that Chaos had carved into her soul. They had stolen her glory, leaving only emptiness behind. Now, she would spend her life repaying that debt in their blood. She thought briefly of Marcellia, her old comrade. "One day, I¡¯ll find you," Elizabeth muttered to herself. "I still owe you a bullet, and I won¡¯t miss this time."

 Chapter 86 - All Clear?

    Her reverie was shattered by a thunderous explosion, even louder than the ones before. Elizabeth opened her eyes, her sharp gaze cutting through the smoke. The battle was nearing its conclusion. The addition of the flamethrowers had extinguished the Daemons¡¯ last desperate hopes. They had nowhere left to run. The outcome had been decided long before. From the moment Kayvaan infiltrated the tent, victory was inevitable. A charred mountain of corpses now blocked the tent¡¯s entrance, the twisted remains of Chaos Daemons who¡¯d been driven into the kill zone by the coordinated assault. Kayvaan had meticulously planned the trap, funneling the creatures toward the exit where Elizabeth and her Sisters held them at bay. The final explosion was the coup de grace, obliterating any stragglers caught in the crossfire.


    Inside the tent, the scene was grim. Most Daemons lay lifeless, but a few still clung to existence, their guttural moans like the dying gasps of a defeated army. Kayvaan, hidden in the shadows, methodically picked off the survivors. Each bolt round was precise, silencing the wounded with a sharp crack and the wet splatter of flesh. "All clear," Kayvaan''s voice carried over the comms, steady and calm. "Ladies, finish the cleanup. We¡¯re on the clock."


    Elizabeth acknowledged him with a nod. The Sisters advanced into the tent in disciplined formation, their bolters ready. The flamethrower team led the way, purging any traces of life beneath their boots. The ground was no longer visible, covered entirely by the bloodied remnants of Chaos. Every few paces, they unleashed another burst of fire to ensure nothing remained to rise again.


    Kayvaan slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder and moved toward the center of the tent, his sharp eyes scanning for anything suspicious. "Where¡¯s the altar?"


    "Center stage," Elizabeth replied, gesturing toward a stone platform that exuded an unnatural aura.


    Without hesitation, she emptied her bolt pistol into the platform, the explosive rounds reducing it to rubble in moments. "That¡¯s it," she murmured, closing her eyes and focusing on the dissipating Warp energy. "The Chaos ritual¡¯s power is gone, but the Warp rift remains unstable. And Rosina¡¯s not here. This was a decoy."


    She turned to her Sisters, her voice firm and commanding. "Sisters, pick up the pace. The Emperor watches over us, and there¡¯s more evil to cleanse. Onward to the next battlefield!" "May the God-Emperor protect us!"


    A sudden, guttural roar split the air, shaking the ground beneath them. From behind Kayvaan, a massive golden form leaped into view. The beast was a grotesque mockery of a lion, its fur shimmering with an unnatural glow. Its eyes burned with unbridled fury, and its bloodstained maw opened wide as it charged. The Golden Lion roared again, its voice a thunderclap of rage and hatred. It had waited for this moment, vowing to tear apart the mortals who dared defy Chaos. And first on its list was the sniper who had orchestrated this slaughter.


    Kayvaan turned slowly, his bolt sniper rifle already rising to meet the beast¡¯s charge. "Well," he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk on his face. "Looks like the show¡¯s not over yet."


    The golden lion fought with relentless ferocity, whether his prey was a rabbit or the despicable humans who dared to challenge him. Towering over most beasts, the golden lion''s colossal frame was matched by claws sharp enough to tear through anything that dared block his path. On one fateful day, a group of human planetary defense forces foolishly sought to defy him. Armed with their pride and a Chimera troop transport, they believed their armored vehicle could shield them from the wrath of Chaos incarnate. Their arrogance was short-lived. With a powerful swipe of his claws, the lion overturned the Chimera, ripping apart its thick metal plating like parchment. Their so-called fortress was nothing more than a toy, insignificant against the divine strength Chaos had bestowed upon him.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The battlefield was no different from the plains where the golden lion once hunted. He approached his prey with practiced precision, crushing them underfoot, peeling back their armor like a hide, and reveling in the taste of blood and raw flesh. To the golden lion, the universe itself was a sprawling grassland, and he was the sovereign ruler, unchallenged and unstoppable.


    Unlike the ordinary lions who lazily basked in their territories, content to rely on others for sustenance, the golden lion lived for the thrill of the hunt. Larger, stronger, and more determined than his kin, he disdained complacency. His days of prowling the wilds, chasing down prey, and indulging in his primal instincts were his greatest treasures. But those days ended all too soon when human hunters invaded his domain. They shattered the sanctity of the plains, hunting not for survival but for sport, mocking the natural order. Infuriated by their audacity, the lion rose to defend his land, only to be captured and sold to a circus, a mockery of his former glory.


    Chaos soon swallowed the world that betrayed him. A colossal warp rift consumed the planet, transforming all life into twisted, mutated forms. Infused with the power of Chaos, the golden lion transcended his earthly limitations, becoming a Daemonic beast of unparalleled strength and intellect. To him, this new universe was a boundless hunting ground, and he reveled in the endless slaughter it offered. Chaos promised him infinite potential, and each hunt brought him closer to his ultimate evolution as a Daemon of immense power.


    Yet, even in his heightened state, he could not ignore the stench of humans hiding in the shadows. Outside a makeshift tent, a group of humans brazenly roasted the flesh of Chaos-touched creatures, their pungent odor fouling the air. Most Daemons loathed the acrid stench, but the lion¡¯s sharp senses pinpointed a single human hiding within the tent. The scent burned in his nostrils, aggravating his rage. This human was cunning, but no one could outlast the patience of a predator.


    The lion crouched low, his massive body blending into the shadows. He stalked silently, each step calculated to remain unnoticed. The prey¡ªarrogant and oblivious¡ªbelieved itself hidden. It was typical of humans: small, fragile, yet insufferably self-assured. The golden lion relished the thought of tearing this one apart. His chance came when the human began firing indiscriminately, the muzzle flashes betraying his location. The shots were wild, uncoordinated¡ªclearly, the human thought he was in control. Foolish. The lion locked onto his position and prepared to strike. Before he could pounce, a group of women armed to the teeth entered the scene. These humans were no ordinary soldiers; they moved with grim precision, slaughtering Chaos beasts as if it were second nature. The lion snarled in frustration. Even among humans, these females were unnatural, their skill in combat unsettling. He needed to act before they regrouped.


    Seizing his moment, the golden lion launched himself toward the lone human, a blur of muscle and malice. His claws aimed to shred the prey in an instant, but the human dodged with uncanny reflexes, rolling away just as the lion¡¯s attack crashed into the ground. The lion''s momentum carried him forward, and before he could recover, pain exploded across his abdomen.

 Chapter 87 - Kill!?

    Kayvaan rolled over without hesitation. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ejected the spent magazine from his bolt pistol and smoothly slid in a fresh one. Without pausing, he sidestepped swiftly, his hand already reaching for the sniper rifle slung across his back. There was no need to aim¡ªat this range, instinct and years of battle-honed precision guided him. The sniper rifle barked loudly, its large-caliber bolt round tearing through the golden lion''s thigh with brutal efficiency. The shot shattered bone and exploded in the Daemon''s hind leg with a violent burst.


    The rifle hit the ground with a metallic clang as Kayvaan discarded it without a second glance. He drew his combat dagger and charged, his movements fluid and relentless. With a pistol in one hand and the dagger in the other, he leaped onto the golden lion¡¯s back, slamming the blade deep into its thick hide. The single-molecule edge sliced effortlessly through flesh and bone, embedding itself to the hilt. Kayvaan didn¡¯t stop¡ªhe tore the blade free, carving a gruesome wound along the lion''s spine. Without hesitation, he jammed the bolt pistol into the exposed flesh and pulled the trigger.


    "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"


    Thirteen explosive rounds detonated deep inside the Daemon''s body, sending tremors through its massive frame. The golden lion howled in agony, its fur bristling as it thrashed wildly. Yet, Kayvaan held firm, gripping the dagger''s handle like an anchor. Half-kneeling on the lion''s back, he remained steady as if he were part of the beast itself, unshaken by its desperate attempts to throw him off. The pistol¡¯s magazine clicked empty. With practiced ease, Kayvaan ejected it, pulled a fresh one from his belt, and reloaded single-handedly. In one swift motion, he pulled the dagger free and stabbed it into a fresh spot. The blade sliced open another gory wound, and once again, thirteen rounds exploded inside the lion¡¯s torso, each shot deepening the Daemon¡¯s anguish.


    The golden lion roared in fury, its mind clouded by pain. Even its Daemonic resilience faltered under the relentless assault. Still, it refused to succumb entirely to the torment. Driven by primal instincts, the lion¡¯s body surged with infernal energy. It reared back on its hind legs, its claws swiping blindly at its tormentor. Kayvaan let go of the dagger and dropped to the ground, landing lightly behind the creature just as one of its massive paws slammed down, inadvertently driving the embedded dagger deeper into its flesh.


    The lion howled again, the pain unbearable. Kayvaan wasted no time. He discarded the bolt pistol and flexed his hands. The lightning claws integrated into his gauntlets extended with a sharp snikt, crackling with blue arcs of energy. With a quick lunge, Kayvaan ducked under the lion¡¯s belly. His claws found their mark, raking across the soft underbelly in a series of long, deliberate cuts that tore through the Daemon¡¯s thick hide like parchment.


    The golden lion thrashed harder, its massive form shaking the ground. But Kayvaan moved with the precision of a veteran warrior. He darted around the beast, striking with speed and ferocity. As he slipped out from under the lion, his claws delivered another brutal series of slashes across its abdomen, leaving the wounds gaping and raw, like an unzipping seam.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The lion staggered, its Daemonic strength finally faltering. Its glowing eyes widened in disbelief as its insides began to spill out. Intestines, shredded organs, and charred remnants of muscle poured from its ravaged body. The lion tried in vain to hold its intestines, pawing at them with trembling claws as if it could somehow shove them back inside. "How¡­ how is this possible?" the lion gasped, its voice choked with shock and fury. It glared at Kayvaan, who stood before it, his armor spattered with gore but his stance unshaken. "I am the Golden Lion! My legend has only just begun! How can I fall here, at the hands of a mortal? Who are you? Speak your name, human!"


    Kayvaan tilted his head, his expression one of mild irritation. "Why do you Daemons always have to talk so much?" he muttered, shaking the blood off his claws. "You''re done. Just die already."


    Kayvaan stopped wasting words and leaped forward like a predator on the hunt. In a single bound, he landed on the golden lion¡¯s thigh, pushing off with force to propel himself onto its massive chest. His claws extended, gleaming in the dim light, and he drove them straight into the daemon¡¯s left atrium. A sickening squelch echoed as his claws sank deep into the lion¡¯s chest. With a grim determination, Kayvaan twisted his arms violently, tearing through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed as his claws raked around the lion''s ribcage, carving a gaping wound. Using his legs for leverage, he anchored himself into the beast''s chest, forcing his way further into the cavity.


    With one claw still embedded in the daemon¡¯s torso, he reached deeper with the other, pulling aside layers of muscle and sinew to reveal the beast¡¯s massive, pulsating black heart. The organ throbbed unnaturally, its surface shimmering with a sinister glow. Without hesitation, Kayvaan plunged his claws into it. With a flick of his wrist, the heart was severed from its arteries, ripped out with brutal efficiency.


    He kicked off the lion''s chest, landing gracefully on the ground with the grotesque heart still beating in his clawed hand. A look of disgust crossed his face. With a flick, he discarded the heart, letting it thud onto the ground. Raising his boot, he stomped down hard. The heart exploded beneath his foot in a wet burst, dark ichor splattering everywhere. ¡°Shut up and die quietly,¡± Kayvaan spat, glaring at the daemon.


    The golden lion, trembling in agony and fury, collapsed. Despite its grievous wounds, it glared at Kayvaan, its glowing eyes filled with hatred. ¡°You filthy human,¡± it growled, its voice a mix of rage and pain. ¡°This isn¡¯t over. The horror has only just begun. I will return, and when I do¡ª¡±


    Before it could finish, a single shot rang out. A projectile tore through the daemon''s mouth, obliterating its tongue in a spray of gore. The lion could only emit garbled, meaningless sounds as its body convulsed. Suddenly, eerie green flames erupted across its massive form. The fire was unnatural, consuming the lion without a single spark to ignite it.


    Elizabeth approached, her calm demeanor contrasting with the chaos. ¡°Impressive,¡± she remarked, standing beside Kayvaan as they watched the daemon burn. ¡°I was ready to give you fire support, but you managed to kill that beast in under two seconds. To be honest, I haven¡¯t seen such skill in a long time.¡±


    ¡°Kill?¡± Kayvaan shook his head. ¡°This wasn¡¯t a fight. The battle ended the moment I struck. All we¡¯re doing now is cleaning up. Tell your people to hurry up¡ªwe don¡¯t have time to waste.¡±


    Elizabeth frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to grasp the gravity of what just happened. You killed a daemon with a true name. Do you have any idea what that means? It will come back for you.¡±

 Chapter 88 - Respect

    ¡°True name or not, it¡¯s just another beast,¡± Kayvaan replied dismissively. ¡°That thing was spouting nonsense when it died. Why should I care?¡±


    ¡°Because this isn¡¯t just another beast!¡± Elizabeth snapped. ¡°This was a true daemon, not one of the twisted creatures corrupted by Chaos. The others bleed and die like any mortal creature, but this one... its body ignited in unholy flames. That fire wasn¡¯t natural¡ªit was Chaos itself reclaiming its servant. Killing it doesn¡¯t destroy it; you¡¯ve merely banished it back to the Warp. It¡¯ll heal, grow stronger, and come for you again.¡±


    Kayvaan shrugged, his expression unbothered. ¡°And I¡¯ll kill it again. A hundred times if I have to. Let it come back as many times as it wants¡ªthe outcome won¡¯t change. This is a human universe. These Warp-spawned parasites have no claim here.¡±


    Elizabeth sighed, watching the green flames devour the daemon¡¯s body until only blackened ashes remained. She knew Kayvaan''s confidence bordered on arrogance, but his skill was undeniable. Neither spoke as the last traces of the daemon faded into nothing.¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± Kayvaan said flatly. ¡°Next target.¡±


    The winding path to the second target was fraught with danger. Kayvaan and his group faced a relentless onslaught of twisted creatures: hulking minotaurs, sentinel rabbits armed with crude weapons, daemonic dogs, gorillas with claws like scythes, lions wreathed in flames, and horrors of all shapes and sizes. These creatures ambushed from every conceivable hiding spot¡ªlurking in shadows, leaping from rooftops, or bursting out of the sewers.


    Kayvaan''s sharp instincts and experience turned these ambushes into futile efforts. When a daemon tried to emerge from a sewer manhole, Kayvaan casually rolled a phosphorus grenade inside and slammed the cover shut with his boot. The explosion below sent fiery light spilling out from the cracks. Shadowy figures clinging to lamp posts or concealed within the dim street corners were swiftly eliminated by Kayvaan''s sniper rifle. Each shot was precise, each kill clean.


    Walking point for the team, Kayvaan ensured that most threats were neutralized before they became a danger. He marked more problematic enemies on the squad¡¯s electronic map, guiding the Sisters of Battle to quickly eradicate these hidden threats. Despite his vigilance, the team couldn¡¯t avoid conflict altogether. The daemons¡¯ persistence forced repeated skirmishes, slowing their progress and steadily draining their stamina.


    The team¡¯s path twisted down a seemingly endless staircase spiraling deep into the underground. Shadows danced ominously along the walls, and every step seemed to echo endlessly. daemons struck from unexpected places: from blind corners, from the ceilings, even bursting forth from the very stone itself. They clung to darkness, waiting to exploit the smallest lapse in attention.


    Kayvaan''s keen senses and skill rendered these ambushes ineffective. He identified threats before they could strike, calling out locations and dispatching foes with ruthless efficiency. Yet, no matter how quickly the team handled these attacks, the constant fighting took its toll. Though the Sisters¡¯ faith and unshakable resolve fortified them against the mental and spiritual assaults of Chaos, their mortal bodies were still bound by human limits.


    Understanding this, Kayvaan led them to a secure location to rest. The group halted for two hours, during which every warrior but Kayvaan was given an hour and a half to sleep. He stood watch, ensuring their temporary respite wasn¡¯t interrupted. Refreshed but wary, the group pressed on, eventually reaching their second objective¡ªa massive tent surrounded by makeshift fortifications. Sentinel rabbits armed with primitive firearms guarded the barricades, their glowing eyes scanning the darkness.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The daemons were prepared for an attack, but their defenses were futile against Kayvaan''s optical cloak. Invisible to the naked eye, he moved like a wraith. The first explosion shattered the fortifications, and the sentinel rabbits scrambled in disarray. Then came the rhythmic, unfeeling crack of Kayvaan''s sniper rifle. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each shot found its mark, splattering daemon heads with ease. Fear rippled through the defenders; none dared to expose themselves.


    Under Kayvaan''s cover fire, the Sisters of Battle surged forward. Before breaching the tent, they lobbed phosphorus grenades, the ensuing flames consuming everything in their path. With righteous fury, the Sisters stormed the tent, their bolters roaring in unison. The daemons within stood no chance. The carnage was so overwhelming that even the Chaos-spawn might have questioned who the true monsters were.


    When the battle ended, the altar inside the tent lay in ruins. But their victory was hollow¡ªthe altar was another decoy. The march to the third target was slower. Fatigue weighed heavily on the group. At one point, a Sister collapsed mid-stride, falling to the ground without a sound. Alarmed, the others formed a defensive perimeter, anticipating a silent attack. But no enemies emerged. On closer inspection, it became clear¡ªshe had simply succumbed to exhaustion.


    The relentless pace, sleepless nights, and constant fighting had pushed their bodies to the brink. Even the strongest wills couldn¡¯t override their physical limits. Realizing this, Kayvaan ordered an immediate halt. Rest was no longer optional; without it, the entire team would collapse.


    As they settled in for a much-needed break, Kayvaan studied the cityscape visible through nearby windows. The underground metropolis was a strange, lifeless place, a maze of reinforced concrete cloaked in shadow. Tall buildings rose like silent monoliths, their windows dark and uninviting. It was unclear whether the city had been abandoned or if its inhabitants had sealed themselves away to avoid the horrors lurking outside.


    In the distance, a few streetlights flickered, casting pools of orange-yellow light onto the empty roads. Instead of providing comfort, the faint illumination only heightened the eerie atmosphere, making the surrounding darkness feel even more oppressive. Lightning occasionally slashed across the sky, illuminating the city in brief flashes of pale, unnatural light.


    Kayvaan''s thoughts remained pragmatic. This strange city was just another battlefield. Whatever secrets it held would eventually be revealed. For now, the priority was clear: rest, regroup, and prepare for the challenges yet to come. The war against Chaos waited for no one.


    After checking all the sentries, as he had expected, everything was in order. Despite their exhaustion, the Sisters never uttered a single complaint. They carried out their duties flawlessly, with unwavering focus. These women, steadfast and disciplined, gave Kayvaan confidence. Still, out of responsibility and habit, he personally inspected every post before allowing himself to rest.


    It wasn¡¯t strictly necessary. These women, all combat veterans, were beyond reproach. Elizabeth¡¯s followers were no ordinary Sisters of Battle. They had undergone elite training, executed perilous missions, and carried an unshakable faith in the Emperor. Their belief was their shield, their courage forged in conviction. These were not mere soldiers¡ªthey were warriors who embodied the Emperor¡¯s light on the battlefield.


    If Kayvaan had once harbored disdain or skepticism toward the Sisters, that had long since faded. He now held a deep respect for them, though he kept it to himself. These women fought with the same ferocity and discipline as any Space Marine, proving themselves time and again. That alone was deserving of admiration.

 Chapter 89 - Just Telling The Truth

    Kayvaan adjusted the single-lens goggles on his forehead and scanned the dark streets outside with infrared and thermal optics. Nothing moved¡ªnot an enemy, not even a stray animal. The world beyond the window was eerily still, the silence pressing down like a weight.


    Satisfied with his inspection, Kayvaan walked into a room where the Sisters had made camp. The nuns had scavenged and burned old furniture to light a bonfire in the center of the room. The flames cast flickering shadows on the cracked walls, giving the space a semblance of warmth. Elizabeth sat alone by the fire, staring into the flames. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your energy on unnecessary tasks again,¡± Elizabeth said with a sigh, her gaze never leaving the fire. ¡°My Sisters are completely reliable.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re exhausted,¡± Kayvaan replied. ¡°I was just doing a routine check. It doesn¡¯t mean I distrust them.¡±


    ¡°As long as they live, they¡¯re trustworthy,¡± she said, her tone even. ¡°These are Sisters of Battle, warriors of faith. You should know that by now.¡±


    Kayvaan waved off the remark. ¡°It¡¯s just habit. Let¡¯s drop it. How¡¯s the Eldar¡¯s progress?¡±


    Elizabeth gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°What outcome are you hoping for? That they succeed easily, or that they struggle like us?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± Kayvaan admitted. ¡°Of course, I want them to succeed. But if they breeze through this, it¡¯ll be trouble for us in the long run. daemons don¡¯t give up easily.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but her tone grew sharper. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be pleased to know they¡¯re struggling. Their progress matches ours. They¡¯re preparing for their final battle, just like we are.¡±


    Kayvaan caught her meaning immediately. The Eldar, masters of stealth and subterfuge, should have made faster progress. Their rangers could vanish in broad daylight, let alone under the cover of darkness. For their pace to match his team¡¯s, it meant their battles had been far more intense. ¡°So, the final battle approaches,¡± Kayvaan said with a small grin. ¡°Feels like a gamble now. Who gets the grand prize?¡±


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t share his amusement. ¡°The Eldar don¡¯t see it that way. They¡¯re divided over their approach. Some think we should launch a probing attack to see if Rosina is among the altar¡¯s guardians. If she¡¯s there, they¡¯ll support us. If not, we¡¯re to disengage and regroup for a coordinated strike on their target.¡±


    Kayvaan shook his head, a grim smile on his lips. ¡°That¡¯s not strategy. That¡¯s gambling, and the house always wins. Rosina could manipulate the situation, leading us to attack the wrong target or spread our forces too thin. daemons are masters of deception. Even the vaunted Eldar have fools among them, it seems.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s voice turned cold. ¡°Their hesitation stems from fear¡ªfear of Rosina and the Chaos God she serves. I can sense it in their psychic energy; it trembles like a flame in the wind.¡±


    Kayvaan''s expression softened, though his words were blunt. ¡°Fear, huh? That¡¯s an emotion I envy.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Elizabeth gave him a puzzled look. ¡°Why envy fear?¡±


    Kayvaan leaned back, his voice unusually reflective. ¡°Space Marines are engineered to be fearless. Everyone thinks that¡¯s a blessing, but it¡¯s not. Without fear, there¡¯s no bravery. True courage is standing against an enemy that terrifies you, conquering the dread in your heart, and fighting anyway. That¡¯s what makes a warrior admirable¡ªnot their ability to kill, but their ability to overcome themselves. But for Astartes, fear is chemically stripped away. Our bravery isn¡¯t genuine¡ªit¡¯s artificial, the product of genetic engineering and conditioning. There¡¯s nothing noble about it. We perform acts of valor, but we¡¯re not truly brave.¡±


    Elizabeth stared into the fire, her expression blank as the golden flames danced. The flickering light reflected across the room, creating a rhythmic play of light and shadow. Yet, Kayvaan''s sharp eyes caught the silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Large droplets fell one by one, glistening as they hit the ground.


    Kayvaan froze. Panic crept into him¡ªnot the kind he faced in combat, but a different, unfamiliar kind. He wasn¡¯t afraid of Elizabeth as a psychic-powered Inquisitor. Even in life-or-death situations, he could steel himself against her. If it came to blows, he trusted his own skills implicitly. But this? Facing a woman, even one as formidable as Elizabeth, quietly crying? He had no idea what to do.


    Her beauty complicated things, though he couldn¡¯t say if it truly mattered in this moment. The sheer helplessness of the situation overwhelmed him. What was he supposed to say? Why was she crying? Was it something he said? He didn¡¯t know.


    Faced with this uncharted battlefield, Kayvaan would have gladly taken an enraged Elizabeth swinging a chainsword at him. At least he could handle that. ¡°Uh... Did I say something too harsh earlier?¡± Kayvaan asked awkwardly, his voice stiff.


    Elizabeth didn¡¯t respond. She continued staring at the fire, tears falling silently. The silence stretched, becoming unbearable. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Kayvaan decided to do the only thing he could think of: apologize. It didn¡¯t matter if it was his fault or not. ¡°Look, if I said something out of line, I¡¯m sorry. I¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Elizabeth interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°It¡¯s me. This place¡­ it¡¯s strange. It¡¯s been gnawing at my defenses, poking at things I thought I¡¯d buried. Normally, I can suppress it all¡ªmemories, doubts, emotions. But here¡­ they keep surfacing. And I can¡¯t stop it.¡±


    She paused, her voice trembling as she continued. ¡°You were right. I failed once, at a critical moment. It wasn¡¯t the daemon that defeated me¡ªit was my own fear. I was terrified. I froze. I wanted to run. And that failure¡­¡± She covered her face with her hands, her voice breaking. ¡°I feel so ashamed. So¡­ ashamed.¡± Her shoulders trembled as she cried openly now, her usual composure utterly shattered.


    Kayvaan remained silent, unsure of how to respond. He simply stared into the fire, letting her vent her emotions in peace. After some time, Elizabeth wiped her tears with the back of her hand and chuckled bitterly. ¡°You must think so little of me,¡± she said, her voice returning to its usual cold, detached tone.


    For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kayvaan found her familiar demeanor comforting. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Kayvaan said plainly.


    Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard by his answer. ¡°What is this? Cheap sympathy?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t do sympathy,¡± Kayvaan replied bluntly. ¡°If I thought less of you, I¡¯d say it. But I don¡¯t. How you feel, what you struggle with¡ªit¡¯s not my business. Our relationship starts and ends on the battlefield. Once this is over, I hope never to cross paths with you again. You¡¯re an Inquisitor. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re used to that sentiment.¡±


    Elizabeth sighed. ¡°Yes, I am. Neither the Inquisition nor the Sisters care about such opinions.¡±


    Kayvaan''s tone remained brutally honest. ¡°If you face the battlefield with a death wish, it only helps me. You¡¯d fight harder, recklessly even, and that would increase our chances of victory. And if you fall, it wouldn¡¯t matter to me. I don¡¯t waste words on comfort, and I don¡¯t care to make you feel better. I¡¯m just telling the truth.¡±


    ¡°Do you have to be so honest?¡± Elizabeth asked, exasperated.

 Chapter 90 - The Way Of Howling Banshee

    ¡°With someone like you? Yes,¡± Kayvaan replied matter-of-factly.


    A long silence followed. Finally, Elizabeth broke it, her voice hesitant. ¡°You heard what I said earlier. I failed because of fear. I couldn¡¯t fight. I just wanted to survive. Am I not deserving of contempt for that?¡±


    Kayvaan shook his head. ¡°Cowards die of shame,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°You didn¡¯t die. You charged forward. You fought alongside us. You¡¯ve killed enemies, protected your comrades, and earned their loyalty. I¡¯ve seen you on the battlefield, Elizabeth. You¡¯ve done better than most men I¡¯ve fought beside. If you¡¯re a coward, then what does that make everyone else?¡±


    ¡°But I¡ª¡± Elizabeth began, but Kayvaan cut her off.


    ¡°No one¡¯s perfect,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Only the Emperor is without flaw. The rest of us mortals stumble. We fall to our weaknesses, to fear, to doubt. But what matters is what comes after. Do you stand back up? Do you keep fighting? Dwelling on past failures is pointless. We don¡¯t have the luxury for that. There¡¯s a battle ahead.¡±


    Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment before didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Kayvaan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and regarded Elizabeth calmly. ¡°I don¡¯t know your past, and honestly, I¡¯m not interested in it,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°What matters is how you deal with it. If you think your mistakes weigh heavily on you, then atone for them. Fix what you¡¯ve broken through action, not tears.¡±


    Elizabeth kept her eyes on the fire, her voice soft and distant. ¡°I know. Actions speak louder than words. I¡¯ve heard that my whole life.¡± Her expression darkened. ¡°This enemy¡­ it¡¯s stronger than anything we¡¯ve faced, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Judging by the Eldar rangers¡¯ reaction, I¡¯d say it¡¯s formidable,¡± Kayvaan admitted.


    Elizabeth hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Am I going to die?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Kayvaan shrugged. ¡°On the battlefield, anything can happen. The Emperor protects, but I¡¯m guessing He¡¯s pretty busy.¡±


    Elizabeth ignored his flippant tone. Instead, she spoke quietly, as if to herself. ¡°If I die, I need you to do something for me.¡±


    Kayvaan tilted his head, studying her. ¡°Tell me. I¡¯ll try.¡±


    She took a steadying breath. ¡°Kill someone for me. Her name is Lysandria. It has to end.¡±


    Kayvaan frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. ¡°Just a name? That¡¯s a pretty vague request. I¡¯d usually ignore something like that, but¡­ I guess I should at least ask: who is Lysandria? An enemy?¡±


    Elizabeth stared into the flames, her voice carrying the weight of memory. ¡°She was my captain when I first joined the Sisters. Back then, I was a novice, and they treated me like family¡ªcaring, protective, like true sisters. But during one mission, we faced a daemon far beyond our ability to defeat. In the chaos, three of them turned to me for help. I¡­ I shot them. Two died instantly. The third, Lysandria, was taken by the daemon before my final shot could land.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Taken by a daemon? She¡¯s likely dead by now,¡± Kayvaan said flatly.


    ¡°I wish that were true.¡± Elizabeth¡¯s tone was bitter. ¡°But I don¡¯t believe it. If she were dead, it would be a mercy. If she¡¯s alive, she¡¯s likely under Chaos¡¯s control, suffering every second. If that¡¯s the case¡­ it¡¯s my responsibility to end it.¡±


    ¡°So, you want me to scour the Warp looking for her?¡± Kayvaan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°No,¡± Elizabeth replied firmly. ¡°But if I die, and you ever encounter her¡­ don¡¯t hesitate. Kill her. Free her.¡±


    Kayvaan sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll promise, though the galaxy¡¯s a big place. The odds of me running into her are slim.¡±


    Elizabeth gave a faint smile, more to herself than to him. ¡°The Emperor¡¯s will works in strange ways. There¡¯s always a chance.¡±


    Kayvaan snorted. ¡°If the Emperor cared about this place, we wouldn¡¯t be stuck on this Emperor-forsaken planet.¡±


    The group rested for five hours, longer than usual, knowing the battles ahead would push them to their limits. When the time came, Kayvaan led Elizabeth and her squad toward their final target. Almost simultaneously, the Eldar rangers launched their own assault.


    The battle in the massive tent was brutal but efficient. The Sisters of Battle, bolstered by Kayvaan''s precise strikes, cut down the daemons with ease. Phosphor grenades lit the darkness, and bolter fire tore through corrupted flesh. The altar crumbled beneath their efforts, but once again, it was a decoy. ¡°Another fake,¡± Kayvaan muttered, scanning the ruins. ¡°The real altar must be on the Eldar¡¯s side. No time to clean up¡ªmove out. Full speed to the final target.¡±


    Elizabeth frowned, keeping pace beside him. ¡°Worried about the Eldar?¡±


    ¡°Of course. If they could handle Rosina, they wouldn¡¯t have sought us out. The dagger¡¯s at their throat, and they still came to negotiate. That tells me they¡¯re desperate.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Khaine will protect them?¡±


    Kayvaan shrugged. ¡°Hope so¡ªat least until we get there.¡±


    In the Eldar camp, Rosina¡¯s voice echoed through the shadowed tent. ¡°Welcome, Syladria,¡± she said with a mock bow, her voice laced with mockery. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting. You¡¯re as slow as a human.¡±


    Syladria emerged from the darkness, her movements silent and deliberate. She stepped into the dim light, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Rosina stood alone at the center of the tent, arms spread wide, her radiant smile a stark contrast to the malevolence emanating from her.


    Syladria¡¯s gaze hardened. That face, once beloved and admired, now filled her with loathing. The smile that had once brought comfort now felt like a sick mockery. ¡°How can you smile?¡± Syladria hissed, her voice shaking with anger. ¡°How can you stand there, smiling after slaughtering our people? After sacrificing their souls to your foul god?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Rosina asked, her voice calm yet mocking. ¡°Do you want me to cry and beg for forgiveness? Isa¡¯s tears may become Spirit Stones, but mine? They¡¯re useless. Life is full of pain, but if you face it with a smile, there¡¯s nothing to fear.¡±


    ¡°Even after you¡¯ve fallen?¡± Syladria asked through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Even knowing I was destined to fall,¡± Rosina replied with an unbroken smile.


    ¡°It seems there¡¯s nothing left to discuss,¡± Syladria said coldly. Her hands moved to the twin swords at her waist. She drew them with a precise motion, the blades gleaming in the dim light. The weapons, known as Mirror Swords, were works of unparalleled craftsmanship, elegant and deadly.


    The hilts were adorned with intricate patterns, the blades slender and translucent like polished crystal. Light refracted through them, revealing hidden, flowing lines of spiritual energy that pulsed softly. The swords mirrored one another perfectly¡ªevery curve, every engraving identical, as though one had been drawn from the reflection of the other. The swords weren¡¯t just beautiful; they were designed to pierce through even the thickest armor, the spiritual energy coursing through them making steel and ceramite seem like paper.


    But their beauty belied their lethality. The Mirror Swords demanded mastery over the deadly Way of the Howling  Banshee. Without the skill to wield them, they were as dangerous to the user as to their enemy.


    Rosina¡¯s expression finally shifted¡ªastonishment flickering across her face. ¡°The Way of the Howling  Banshee?¡± she muttered. ¡°Impressive. I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d pursue such a demanding path. That swordsmanship is reserved for martial masters. How did you even learn it?¡±

 Chapter 91 - Fighting Rosina

    Syladria didn¡¯t answer immediately. Her fingers tightened on the hilts of her swords, and her eyes beneath the banshee mask glimmered with sorrow. The mask itself depicted a crying face, its exaggerated lines capturing grief and despair.


    The Banshee, a mythical figure in Eldar lore, was both a harbinger of sorrow and death. Her wail heralded misfortune and could even sever souls from their Spirit Stones. ¡°Why?¡± Rosina pressed, her tone sharpening. ¡°Why choose the Way of the Howling Banshee?¡±


    Syladria¡¯s voice was heavy with anguish. ¡°You should know,¡± she said, the weight of her words hanging in the air.


    Rosina smirked, her tone turning mocking. ¡°Ah, such a foolish question. But your answer is even more foolish. Who are you mourning, Syladria? Me?¡± Her laughter echoed, sharp and cruel. ¡°You don¡¯t need to mourn me. You¡¯ll hate me soon enough¡ªhate me more than you can imagine. Because in this game, you¡¯re the unfortunate one, not me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no point in wasting more words,¡± Syladria said, her voice steady. ¡°Draw your blade, Rosina. Let it decide.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± Rosina stamped her foot, releasing a surge of psychic energy that rippled through the room. A long blade embedded in the ground leaped into the air. She caught it effortlessly, the blade settling at her waist. But instead of unsheathing it, she brought forth another weapon: a Shadow Weaver.


    Syladria¡¯s eyes narrowed as Rosina hoisted the heavy firearm. Her lips curled in contempt. ¡°Typical,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°A duelist bringing a gun to a swordfight.¡±


    Rosina¡¯s laugh was cold and merciless as she raised the weapon. The Shadow Weaver was no ordinary firearm. Its emitter glowed faintly, and the weapon thrummed with psychic energy. The first shot tore through the air as Syladria darted sideways, rolling to avoid the deadly blast.


    The shadowy filament hissed as it struck¡ªnot Syladria, but an empty corner of the room. The coiling energy revealed an invisible figure as it collided. An Eldar ranger, cloaked in the void, cried out as the monofilament threads ensnared him. His stealth shimmered and failed, his form becoming visible for a fleeting moment before the threads constricted, slicing through him with merciless precision.The ranger¡¯s body shattered grotesquely, as if sliced into countless fragments. Blood sprayed across the ground as his remains crumbled like a collapsing tower. The scene was over in an instant, leaving only silence in its wake.


    The Shadow Weaver, a fearsome Eldar weapon, unleashed its unique attack. Unlike human firearms or the common star darts of the Eldar, the Shadow Weaver ejected a polymer of organic metal. These microscopic, razor-sharp monofilament threads formed an intricate web that entangled its victims. Struggling only tightened the web, slicing flesh with excruciating precision. Within moments, the trapped enemy was reduced to a pile of blood and shredded remains.


    Rosina knew exactly what Syladria was attempting. The plea for a sword duel was a trap designed to coax her into abandoning her ranged advantage. Syladria¡¯s plan was to delay and distract her until the rangers could take optimal shooting positions. However, Rosina was neither na?ve nor unprepared. She wasn¡¯t insulted by the tactic¡ªon the contrary, she found it amusing. She allowed the rangers to complete their setup, knowing she would still dictate the battle''s course.


    The combat began. ¡°Blood spills like rivers, fury rises as storms, death awakens with the cry of Khaine, and war calls to the soul!¡± Rosina sang the ancient Eldar war song as she moved. Her movements were graceful and rhythmic, like a dancer on a stage. She twisted, leapt, and spun, dodging attacks with uncanny precision. Psychic energy bolts, glowing like starlight, shot at her from all directions, but none found their mark. Each arrow missed her, as if she could predict their trajectories. Even as she evaded the rangers¡¯ volleys, Rosina taunted them.


    ¡°Rangers who have strayed from the Path, do you feel it? The blood beneath your feet, the rage in your hearts, the death closing in? And the war¡­ the war you cannot win. Do you feel the power of Chaos coursing through this land? Do you feel your own futility?¡±


    ¡°Rosina!¡± Syladria¡¯s voice cut through the din. The banshee mask distorted her words, amplifying them into a shrieking wail that reverberated across the battlefield. She leapt high, her twin Mirror Swords glinting in her hands. ¡°You bastard!¡±


    The mask¡¯s psychic sound wave shattered the air. The Banshee Wail, a signature ability of the Screaming Banshees, was an attack on the mind itself. It resonated in the brains of its victims, inducing terror, paralysis, and even physical collapse. Against an unprepared foe, the effect was devastating. Most enemies froze in place, unable to resist as the Banshee dispatched them with surgical efficiency.


    But Rosina was not unprepared. Though she staggered for a brief moment under the psychic assault, she recovered almost immediately. That momentary lapse, however, was enough for the rangers to exploit. One of them loosed an energy arrow from a carefully calculated angle. The glowing projectile streaked toward Rosina, its trajectory perfect. At the same time, Syladria descended from above, her Mirror Swords poised to strike.


    It seemed as if Rosina was trapped. Syladria¡¯s deadly blades were aimed for her neck, while the arrow sped toward her back. The Eldar rangers held their breath, certain they had secured victory.


    But Rosina smiled. With fluid precision, she hurled the Shadow Weaver at Syladria. Simultaneously, she reached for the long sword at her waist. In a single, smooth motion, she drew the blade¡ªthe Great Sword Executioner. This weapon, as revered and lethal as the Mirror Swords, shimmered with a power that rivaled the elegance and deadliness of Syladria¡¯s blades.


    Syladria didn¡¯t hesitate. Her swords moved as one. The first blade slashed down, cutting the Shadow Weaver in two and sending the pieces flying. The second came diagonally, aiming to strike Rosina¡¯s exposed flank.


    Rosina¡¯s long sword met the descending blade with a sharp, crystalline clang. The impact reverberated through the air as the weapons collided. Both fighters were now fully engaged, their spiritual energy surging through their blades.


    Syladria gritted her teeth, pouring her rage and sorrow into every strike. The delicate beauty of the Mirror Swords belied their destructive power, and Syladria wielded them with deadly precision. But Rosina was no less skilled. The Great Sword Executioner moved with her like an extension of her body, parrying each strike with uncanny ease. ¡°You¡¯ve improved,¡± Rosina admitted, her tone light yet mocking. ¡°But you¡¯ll never be strong enough to defeat me.¡±


    ¡°You talk too much,¡± Syladria spat, launching a relentless flurry of attacks.


    Blades clashed in a dazzling display of skill. Sparks flew as spiritual energy coursed through the weapons, illuminating the dark battlefield in bursts of brilliant light. Each strike was a test of strength, precision, and will.

 Chapter 92 - Rosinas Strength

    Around them, the Eldar rangers continued their assault, their arrows weaving through the chaotic melee. Yet none could strike Rosina. She moved with such grace and fluidity that it was as if she danced through the battlefield, always a step ahead of death.


    Syladria roared, her fury building as Rosina¡¯s mocking smile never faltered. ¡°How can you stand there, smiling, after betraying everything we once stood for? After sacrificing your own people to Chaos? You Bastard!¡±


    As another energy arrow streaked toward Rosina''s exposed back, a psychic shield shimmered into existence, blocking the projectile effortlessly. The translucent barrier rippled as it absorbed the force, leaving Rosina untouched by what should have been a fatal strike.


    Rosina gripped the Executioner tightly, swinging the long blade in a powerful upward arc. The strike sent Syladria reeling backward, her balance momentarily broken.


    Rosina stepped forward, her voice rising with a sudden scream that echoed like a banshee¡¯s wail. ¡°You call me a bastard?¡± she shouted, her voice sharp and piercing. ¡°No, Syladria¡ªyou¡¯re just a fool!¡± Her scream wasn¡¯t just sound; it carried the power of raw psychic energy. A visible shockwave expanded outward from her, rippling through the air with enough force to rattle the structure around them. Eldar Rangers hidden throughout the tent were struck by the wave, their minds overwhelmed by its psychic resonance. Their cloaking fields flickered and failed, leaving them exposed as they staggered, paralyzed by the devastating mental assault.


    Syladria, protected by her Banshee mask, was unaffected physically. The mask¡¯s advanced mechanisms shielded her from the effects of the psychic scream. But the sheer force of Rosina¡¯s power struck a deep psychological blow. Syladria¡¯s thoughts raced as fear crept in. Rosina had released a Banshee Wail without any tools, and its range had covered the entire tent. That level of raw psychic power was almost unthinkable. How could anyone hope to defeat such an enemy?


    The other Rangers shared Syladria¡¯s terror. Immobilized by the psychic assault, they watched helplessly as Rosina turned her focus to the nearest target. Holding the Executioner with both hands, she leaped toward the Ranger. Her movements were graceful, almost serene, as she twisted through the air and brought her blade down in a perfect arc.


    The Executioner cleaved through the Ranger with surgical precision, splitting the target in two. The blade¡¯s spiritual energy sliced through the body as easily as it would through ceramite armor or the hull of a Chimera troop carrier. Rosina barely registered the resistance as she moved to her next target.


    The Ranger she targeted next tried desperately to move, to raise a weapon, but the paralysis held firm. Rosina rushed forward, crouching low to build momentum, and swung the blade in a wide arc. Another body fell in two, lifeless. Rosina¡¯s thoughts were methodical, calculating. ¡®One more should secure total control,¡¯ she thought as she pivoted toward another Ranger frozen in terror.


    She jumped again, the Executioner raised high, preparing for yet another flawless strike. But this time, Syladria intervened.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Appearing like a ghost beneath Rosina¡¯s flight path, Syladria struck upward with both Mirror Swords. Rosina twisted mid-air, bringing the Executioner to bear in defense. The weapons clashed with a sound like ringing glass, the spiritual energy coursing through each blade amplifying the sharp clang.


    The clash sent shockwaves through the air as the two women collided, their weapons moving too quickly for the eye to follow. The dense, crisp sounds of blade meeting blade filled the tent like a torrential downpour on metal. The Rangers, though paralyzed, felt cold sweat trickle down their faces as they listened to the deadly symphony of strikes. They couldn¡¯t see the battle clearly, but the sounds alone painted a vivid picture of its ferocity.


    Syladria¡¯s relentless assault forced Rosina back, each strike aimed with precision and fury. As they landed, Syladria positioned herself protectively in front of the surviving Rangers. Rosina, however, did not retreat far. A pair of ethereal wings unfurled from her back, lifting her gracefully into the air. She ascended to the steel beams supporting the roof of the tent, her movements deliberate and unhurried.


    The wings were the gift of the Swooping Hawk Path, granting Rosina the ability to traverse the skies with ease. Perched atop the structure, she reached into a hidden compartment and retrieved a long-barreled weapon. It was an Eldar missile launcher, sleek and deadly, designed to fire armor-piercing projectiles.


    Rosina smiled down at her opponents, the mocking expression never leaving her face. With calculated precision, she aimed the weapon at the ground below. A single missile ejected, trailing sparks as it descended. When it struck, the ground erupted in a blinding inferno. Flames roared through the tent, consuming everything in their path as the shockwave blasted debris outward.


    The tent became a maelstrom of fire and chaos, the searing heat and choking smoke engulfing the battlefield. For the Rangers who had barely begun to recover, it was another devastating blow. Syladria, standing her ground amidst the storm, tightened her grip on the Mirror Swords. Her gaze fixed on Rosina, who hovered above the destruction like a dark angel of war.


    For the Eldar Rangers, the battle was nothing short of a nightmare. Rosina¡¯s relentless assault overwhelmed them. She moved with the precision of an entire Eldar warhost, wielding the Executioner with deadly finesse. At times, she was a Screaming Banshee, paralyzing her foes with psychic wails and cutting them down with elegant brutality. At other moments, she became a Swooping Hawk, raining death from above. When she vanished into the shadows, she reappeared like a Ranger, striking with lethal precision. Her mastery of multiple paths made her an unpredictable and unstoppable force.


    The Eldar had entered the battle believing they held the advantage. They had fought Rosina before, and while she had defeated them in every skirmish, those defeats had felt circumstantial¡ªa matter of her skills as a duelist and her cunning in guerrilla warfare. This time, they expected victory. Rosina had nowhere to hide and was bound to defend the altar. They had the numbers, firepower, and carefully laid traps on their side.


    But the Rangers quickly realized how wrong they were. From the moment the battle began, Rosina seized control. The traps meant to ensnare her were useless against her fluid movements. Every tactic the Rangers deployed was countered with chilling ease. She wasn¡¯t merely fighting to defend the altar¡ªshe dictated the rhythm and flow of the battlefield. Her movements were so precise and her mastery of different combat disciplines so seamless that it felt like facing an entire warhost concentrated in a single body.


    Syladria, the most experienced among them, threw herself into attack after attack, but Rosina deflected her every strike. The Eldar leader, once confident, now realized she had underestimated her foe. Rosina wasn¡¯t merely strong¡ªshe was a force of nature.

 Chapter 93 - Slaneeshs Goal

    The Rangers fought valiantly, relying on each other to survive. They used coordinated fire and tactical retreats to avoid being annihilated. Yet it was clear they were barely holding on. Rosina¡¯s onslaught was unrelenting, forcing them into a desperate fight for survival. Every second felt like an eternity, and every strike from Rosina brought them closer to defeat.


    Time was their only hope. The Eldar weren¡¯t fighting to win¡ªthey were fighting to survive until reinforcements arrived. The human strike force, led by Elizabeth and Kayvaan, was their last chance to destroy the altar and stop the Chaos incursion. If Rosina couldn¡¯t be stopped, the entire planet would face annihilation.


    The altar loomed ominously in the center of the battlefield. Psychic energy swirled above it, visible to the naked eye. A dark mist coalesced into a dense black cloud, pulsating with malevolent power. The altar wasn¡¯t just a symbol¡ªit was a conduit. The psychic energy it gathered would soon reach a critical mass, tearing open a rift in reality and allowing Chaos to pour through.


    For the Eldar Rangers, the sight was a reminder of their grim reality. They weren¡¯t just fighting for survival¡ªthey were fighting to stop the unthinkable. Yet despite their efforts, the altar continued to pulse with growing energy.


    Syladria swung her Mirror Swords in desperate arcs, trying to find an opening in Rosina¡¯s defenses. Occasionally, she used her psychic sniper rifle to fire precision shots, but none could land. Rosina¡¯s mastery of the battlefield left no room for error. The Rangers were locked in a stalemate that only served to delay the inevitable.


    Elizabeth and her squad raced toward the altar with all the speed they could muster. Yet even as they pushed themselves to their limits, the timer on Elizabeth¡¯s scope told the grim truth. Time was slipping away too quickly. She stared at the countdown, willing the seconds to slow. But time obeyed no one. As the numbers hit zero, the truth became undeniable: they wouldn¡¯t reach the altar in time.


    Above the surface, the consequences of their delay became clear. In the darkened sky above the underground city, a massive vortex began to form. From its center emerged an enormous Chaos Gate, jagged and horned, towering over the landscape. The structure pierced the heavens, its spiked silhouette a stark contrast against the swirling chaos behind it.


    The arch was a gate¡ªa doorway for the forces of Chaos to enter the material world. Its sheer size made it seem like a relic of myth, a gateway for the gods themselves. As it stabilized, the air grew heavy with the oppressive presence of the Warp. The psychic energy gathered at the altar below had succeeded in opening the rift.


    For Rosina, the sight of the gate was a triumph. For the Eldar Rangers, it was the beginning of the end. Syladria, battered and bloodied, looked at the altar in despair. She didn¡¯t need a human timer to know the truth¡ªtime had run out.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Boom. Boom.


    The colossal doors creaked open with a thunderous noise, revealing a scene that seemed torn from the depths of a fevered nightmare. Beyond the doorway lay a desolate, alien world. Towering ruins of shattered high-rise buildings reached for a blood-red sun hanging ominously in the sky. Below the sun, a crimson, droplet-shaped mass pulsated faintly, as if the sun itself were bleeding. The wind howled violently through the ruined landscape, picking up monstrous creatures and hurling them across the skies like discarded toys.


    Standing in perfect formation before the gate was a vast, grotesque army. Warped monstrosities mutated by the powers of Chaos mingled with hulking Chaos Space Marines, their black armor scarred and decorated with twisted runes of devotion to the Dark Gods. Some of these nightmarish soldiers wielded primitive melee weapons¡ªwicked blades and jagged axes¡ªwhile others carried advanced ranged weaponry, armed to the teeth with the tools of destruction.


    At the front of the infernal host stood a singular figure who commanded both fear and reverence: a red-haired daemon of surpassing beauty and terror. She bore a striking visage, her eyes gleaming like twin embers and her fiery hair cascading like living flames. Twin goat-like horns jutted from her head, and her black armor was ornate and alluring, blending elegance and menace.


    This was no ordinary daemon. She was the favored servant of Slaanesh, rising meteorically within the ranks of Chaos. Her name was spoken in awe and dread even among her peers in the infernal hierarchy. Her reputation had reached the highest echelons of the Black Legion, and now she stood as the leader of this unholy army, tasked with a mission of cosmic significance.


    For the red-haired witch, however, this mission was a tedium. Her task was to retrieve an object of immense power from this barren, forsaken world. But there was no resistance to crush, no prey to seduce or torment. The planet¡¯s lifeless expanse offered nothing to satisfy her appetite for cruelty or decadence.


    "Why am I doing this?" she mused, her expression a mix of disdain and resignation. She wasn¡¯t a mere errand runner¡ªshe was one of Slaanesh¡¯s chosen, a daemon of status and renown. Yet here she was, dispatched like a common courier. Her orders came from the highest authority¡ªdirectly from Slaanesh herself. Disobedience wasn¡¯t an option, even for one as exalted as her.


    Rumors among the ranks whispered that these orders were linked to a grander scheme orchestrated by none other than Abaddon the Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos and lord of the dreaded Black Legion. Abaddon, the self-proclaimed heir to Horus, had once again declared his intention to launch a Black Crusade¡ªa campaign to topple the Imperium and unseat the Emperor from His Golden Throne. The Warmaster¡¯s audience with Slaanesh had been clear in its intent: to secure the Dark God¡¯s blessing for his campaign. As he had many times before, Abaddon painted a grand vision of victory, promising to finally tear down the Imperium and deliver untold souls to the Ruinous Powers.


    Slaanesh, in her enigmatic grace, offered support. Whether this was due to faith in Abaddon¡¯s plan or mere amusement at his hubris was impossible to say. Among the daemonic elite, many mocked Abaddon behind closed doors. He was derisively nicknamed "Abaddon the Despoiler, Invincible and Undefeated¡±¡ªa sarcastic nod to his frequent failures to secure decisive victories.


    Yet Slaanesh saw fit to aid him. It wasn¡¯t a question of trust or belief but of indulgence. To a deity like Slaanesh, success and failure mattered less than the drama and sensations each attempt evoked. As a gesture of support, Slaanesh bestowed Abaddon with invaluable knowledge: the location of a Blackstone Fortress and instructions for its activation.

 Chapter 94 - Rosinas End

    The Blackstone Fortress was a weapon of unimaginable power, capable of devastating entire sectors of space. However, to operate such a construct required specific artifacts scattered across the galaxy¡ªeach as rare as it was vital. One of these artifacts lay hidden on the barren world the red-haired daemon now stood upon.


    Her mission was simple: retrieve the artifact and deliver it for Abaddon¡¯s grand plan. She stood at the gateway, her fiery gaze sweeping over the legion behind her. The wind howled through the broken buildings of the otherworldly cityscape beyond, and the blood-red sun cast a sinister glow over the scene. The daemon army awaited her command, ready to march forth and bring ruin to any who opposed their will.


    Above the planet, the skies began to churn as a vortex of Chaos formed. A massive, jagged archway of blackened stone, crowned with sharp horns, emerged from the swirling maelstrom. The gateway was enormous, towering high enough to pierce the clouds. It was a portal for the forces of the Warp, a doorway through which legions of daemons could spill into reality.


    The red-haired daemon¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile as she stepped forward. Her orders were clear, and though she found the task beneath her, she knew her role in the grander scheme was significant. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled her army to prepare.


    Soon, she thought, this quiet planet would become a stage for chaos, blood, and fire. The mission was, by all accounts, trivial. Any lesser daemon or even a well-trained hellhound could have retrieved the artifact hidden within the ruins. Reports from the possessed and collaborators suggested the ruins lacked any real defenses. But this was no ordinary task. The artifact was a gift from Slaanesh to Abaddon, meant to power the Blackstone Fortress in the Warmaster¡¯s renewed Black Crusade. Failure was unthinkable. The thought alone sent shivers down the red-haired witch¡¯s spine.


    To ensure nothing went wrong, Slaanesh had dispatched her with a full legion of daemonic forces. Standing before the Chaos Gate, the gateway between realities, the witch dismissed her unease. She smiled confidently, the first to step through the gate, the vast army of daemons following behind her. Once she crossed into the material world, her confidence solidified. No one could defy the will of a god, not even the so-called Emperor of Mankind.


    Deep beneath the surface, in the heart of the true altar, Rosina¡¯s laughter echoed madly as she taunted the embattled Eldar Rangers. Her voice was sharp and filled with derision. ¡°You are all doomed! Eternal pain awaits you in the grip of Chaos. Stop this futile resistance and accept your fate! Better to die by my hand than fall to the mercy of daemons!¡±


    Her laughter turned to hysteria, but it abruptly stopped. A sharp, shattering sound echoed through the tent, like glass breaking or ice fracturing. Rosina froze, her glee replaced by shock. She turned to see the altar, its surface cracking and splitting. Her wide eyes stared as fractures spread like a spiderweb across the corrupted structure.


    ¡°No!¡± Rosina screamed, reaching out into the void with her psychic power. The illusion shrouding the room dissolved, the frosted distortion vanishing like a mist blown away by the wind. The true nature of the scene was laid bare. Above the altar stood a black-haired man, silent and resolute. His fist crashed down onto the altar, the three claws affixed to his hand driving deep into the structure.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Bang!


    Another deafening impact shook the room. More cracks spread across the altar, radiating from the points of impact. With a final, resounding explosion, the altar crumbled into ruins, its psychic energy dissipating into nothingness.


    The man straightened, brushing dust from his gloves, and smiled wryly at the stunned Eldar Rangers. ¡°Looks like I got here just in time. You can handle the rest.¡± He waved casually before turning to leave. ¡°My job¡¯s done.¡±


    Far above the ruins, the red-haired witch stood on the threshold of the material world, her confidence unshaken as her army roared behind her. Raising her arms triumphantly, she signaled the legion to march. But the moment her forces began to move, the air itself shuddered. The massive portal that linked the warp to this world, twisted unnaturally. Before the witch could react, the arch collapsed into the swirling psychic vortex. The gateway and the vortex vanished as if they had never existed, leaving behind a clear blue sky.


    The red-haired witch¡¯s expression twisted in disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat, her mind racing through possibilities. The vibrant sky, the gentle clouds, the serene streams¡ªit was all wrong. Where there should have been devastation, there was peace. Her initial reaction was paranoia. ¡®A trap,¡¯ she thought. ¡¯Jealous daemons plotting against me. They¡¯ve finally made their move¡¯. She braced herself, expecting an ambush. But no projectiles came, no hidden blades emerged. The world remained still, calm, and maddeningly pure.


    The witch¡¯s unease turned to seething anger. ¡°What a damned mission,¡± she hissed. ¡°What a damned world.¡± Something had clearly gone wrong, but she couldn¡¯t pinpoint what. The artifact was here. She had followed her orders. But now, standing amidst this idyllic landscape, she felt more out of place than ever.


    With a wave of her hand, the witch transformed. Her black armor melted away, replaced by a sleek, form-fitting black silk dress. Her horns receded into her head, and the other daemonic features of her body faded. Within moments, she appeared as a radiant, red-haired woman, her beauty intoxicating and her presence enigmatic. To the untrained eye, she was no daemon but a seductive noblewoman of mysterious origins.


    Among the many powers possessed by daemons, the ability to change form was often the most subtle yet effective. For lesser daemons, appearance was malleable, a tool to charm, deceive, or terrify. A succubus could manifest in the exact image desired by its victim, becoming the embodiment of temptation or trust. But for a daemon of the Red-haired Witch''s stature¡ªa commander who led legions¡ªsuch concealments were beneath her. She reveled in her identity. Her form, clad in a sleek black silk dress, announced her presence with disdainful pride.


    The Red-haired Witch pulled out a small mirror, admiring her flawless face and fiery locks. With a flick of her wrist, she combed her hair, then waved her arms to gather the psychic energies that saturated the air. The space in front of her shimmered, bending and tearing as she opened a small rift. Stepping through without hesitation, she crossed the void in a single stride and emerged at the entrance to the dungeon.


    The scene before her was a trench bristling with defenses. Lines of soldiers armed with laser rifles stared her down, flanked by Vulcan gun towers that stood ready to unleash torrents of death.


    For a brief, surreal moment, both sides froze in mutual shock. The witch¡¯s fiery gaze swept over the trench. ¡®Humans? Here?¡¯ Her mind raced with fury. How had the Imperium discovered this place? It was inconceivable. Not even the rotting Emperor of Mankind could divine the thoughts of the Dark Gods, let alone anticipate their plans.

 Chatper 95 - Three Million Souls

    Across the trench, Deputy Commander Marlborough stared wide-eyed at the stunning figure that had materialized before him. The soldiers, already shaken by the earlier appearance of the now-vanished Chaos Gate, stood slack-jawed, their morale crushed. Without the Commissar present to execute deserters and enforce discipline, the ranks had devolved into fearful disarray. Marlborough himself struggled to process what he was seeing: a woman of unearthly beauty, dressed as though she were attending a grand ball, standing amid the dust and ruin of a battlefield.


    It was absurd. The juxtaposition was so jarring it felt like seeing a penguin strut across the African savannah. For a moment, even the grizzled deputy commander could do nothing but gape.


    But Marlborough¡¯s instincts as a soldier kicked in. Shaking himself free of his stupor, he barked an order. ¡°What are you all standing there for? Shoot! Shoot her now! She¡¯s a daemon!¡± He didn¡¯t know for sure if she was, but it didn¡¯t matter. On a battlefield, beauty could be just as deadly as a bolter. If she wasn¡¯t human, she was a threat. And if she was? Better a tragic mistake than the loss of his entire unit.


    A soldier fired first, the green beam of a lasrifle lancing out and striking the witch squarely on her dress. The black silk shimmered momentarily as the fabric absorbed the energy, leaving only a faint trail of smoke.


    The witch let out a soft, melodious moan. ¡°Ah¡­¡± The sound was quiet but unmistakably alluring. It carried through the trench like a whispered promise, wrapping itself around the ears and minds of every man present. The moan sent shivers down spines, and some soldiers felt a sudden weakness in their knees. Others found themselves trembling uncontrollably, their thoughts clouded by an inexplicable desire.


    ¡°Please,¡± the witch said, her voice smooth and honeyed. ¡°Don¡¯t attack me. I only wish to pass. The war has hurt us all¡ªour bodies, our hearts, our souls. Don¡¯t we all deserve rest? To put down our weapons and go home?¡±


    Her words struck like a psychic hammer. The soldiers¡¯ eyes glazed over, their resolve crumbling as her voice resonated in their minds. Rifles clattered to the ground as men dropped their weapons, overcome by waves of longing and despair.


    ¡°Mom! I miss you!¡± one soldier sobbed, collapsing to his knees.


    ¡°My wife¡­ is she still alive? My boy¡­ I haven¡¯t seen him in three years¡­¡± another murmured, clutching his helmet.


    ¡°We just want to go home¡­¡± whispered a third, his tears soaking into the dust.


    Even Marlborough, who prided himself on his discipline, found himself faltering. His grip on his lasrifle slackened as he grappled with a sudden, overwhelming fatigue. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting thoughts: duty to the Emperor versus a desperate, bone-deep weariness.


    The Red-haired Witch observed the humans¡¯ descent into despair with cold amusement. Their collapse, both mental and emotional, was predictable. She sneered, her crimson lips curling into a contemptuous smile as she stepped forward. Her heels clicked against the stone as she passed through the trench, unchallenged. The soldiers who moments ago had been prepared to fight now knelt, sobbing or staring blankly ahead, consumed by her psychic influence.


    ¡°Pitiful,¡± she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disdain. ¡°This is what the Emperor¡¯s servants have become.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The trench, once a bastion of resistance, was now a graveyard of broken spirits. The witch strode leisurely through the fallen line, her silk dress swaying as she moved. Her every step exuded dominance and power, a stark reminder that in the face of Chaos, even the most steadfast defenses could crumble.


    ¡°Rest? Rest your mother!¡± Marlborough roared, his voice cutting through the haze of despair. With defiance burning in his eyes, the deputy commander pulled his pistol from its holster and fired at the red-haired witch.


    The witch didn¡¯t flinch. With a lazy wave of her hand, an invisible force sent Marlborough hurtling backwards. His shots missed entirely, the bullets dissolving into harmless sparks as they neared her. Marlborough hit the ground hard, groaning, but the witch paid him no further attention.


    Her attention shifted to a trembling soldier. She raised her hand, pointing at him as she began to chant in the vile, guttural tongue of daemons. The words, soaked in corruption, hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver down the spines of all who heard them.


    The chosen soldier froze as though paralyzed. The witch strode up to him, a faint smile playing on her lips. She reached out, cupping his head, and leaned in. Her lips brushed against his in a light kiss that seemed to linger far too long. Pulling back, she sneered. ¡°Have fun,¡± she said simply.


    The soldier¡¯s body convulsed violently, twisting and warping in grotesque ways. Crimson flames ignited from his flesh, and his anguished screams filled the air as his transformation took hold. Within moments, he was no longer a man but a monstrous, half-daemonic abomination, his body engulfed in the fires of Chaos.


    The newly formed daemon roared, its burning form lunging at the nearest soldiers. Chaos erupted within the trench as the monster tore through its former comrades. Weapons fired, men shouted, and panic spread like wildfire. The defensive line descended into chaos.


    The red-haired witch didn¡¯t spare a second glance at the havoc she had unleashed. Her focus was singular. The anxiety gnawing at her mind pushed her forward. She had no time to indulge in the carnage. The mission¡ªher mission¡ªhad to succeed.


    She stepped into the entrance of the ancient underground city, her steps measured but unyielding. Gathering her psychic power, she initiated another spatial jump. The fabric of reality twisted and bent, and with a single stride, she reappeared at her destination.


    She now stood in a sealed chamber. Beneath her feet was a psychic array, its intricate runes glowing faintly, guiding her to her target. Her servants had prepared everything in advance, carving the array to ensure her arrival was precise.


    At the center of the room hovered a sphere, pulsating with an otherworldly blue light. Surrounding it were swirling runes of power, their movements faintly hypnotic. The sphere radiated immense psychic energy, its presence both awe-inspiring and oppressive. This was it¡ªthe artifact Slaanesh desired, the core the daemons sought to claim.


    The witch let out a soft sigh of relief. The tension in her shoulders eased as she realized the object remained untouched. ¡°A false alarm,¡± she muttered, a smirk tugging at her lips.


    Before she could take another step, a figure materialized before her. A woman clad in a crimson trench coat and wide-brimmed hat emerged from the void, her presence sudden and unsettling. The figure, Seraphea, knelt before the witch, her expression one of desperation.


    ¡°Please,¡± Seraphea cried, her voice trembling. ¡°I beg you, have mercy! Don¡¯t take the core. Without it, we cannot survive!¡±


    The witch tilted her head, her fiery hair cascading over one shoulder. Her crimson eyes narrowed in irritation. ¡°Get out of my way,¡± she spat. ¡°You¡¯re nothing more than a wandering soul. How dare you try to interfere?¡±


    With a flick of her wrist, the witch¡¯s psychic power lashed out, swatting Seraphea away like smoke. The ghostly figure tumbled backward but quickly reformed, her hands clasped as she pleaded again. ¡°No, please! You don¡¯t understand! There are 3.4 million souls bound to this core. It sustains them all! Without it, they¡¯ll be destroyed. The entire city will perish!¡±


    The witch froze momentarily, her lips curling into an amused grin. ¡°Three million souls?¡± she mused aloud, her tone mocking. ¡°How delightful. I thought this mission was going to be boring, but this¡­ this is interesting.¡±

 Chapter 96 - The Witch Strength

    Seraphea¡¯s desperation only deepened. ¡°Please,¡± she whispered, her voice quaking. ¡°Who are you? Why would you do this?¡±


    The witch stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. She didn¡¯t answer immediately, letting her aura expand. The room darkened as the sheer weight of her being pressed down upon Seraphea. The air grew heavy with dread, the very essence of the Warp seeping into the chamber.


    Seraphea shrank back, trembling as realization dawned. She curled into herself, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re a messenger of Hell.¡±


    The red-haired witch laughed coldly. ¡°A messenger? No. I am far more than that. You should feel honored, little ghost. You¡¯re standing in the presence of one of Slaanesh¡¯s chosen.¡±


    Seraphea could only whimper as the witch extended a hand toward the core, her smile widening. As her hand approached, the sphere rapidly shrank, transforming into a bead no larger than a marble. She casually tossed it into her cleavage, patting her chest with satisfaction. "There we go," she sighed in relief. "Safe and sound."


    Moments later, an unnatural wind surged through the sealed chamber¡ªnot real air, but a manifestation of countless gathered souls. Their howls sounded like a mournful symphony, the room thick with their spectral presence. To an ordinary person, the sight alone would have been enough to induce panic or unconsciousness. But to the red-haired witch, these souls were nothing more than delectable treats. She chuckled darkly. "Trying to scare me? How amusing."


    Reaching up, she flicked the drop-shaped red gemstone dangling from her left earring. The gem began to emit a crimson light, pulsing with a magnetic force that drew the spirits irresistibly toward it. Within moments, the room was silent, the souls now trapped within the eerie jewel. "Quite the haul," she muttered, inspecting her prize. Her lips curled into a smile. "Now that business is taken care of, let¡¯s see who dared disrupt my plans."


    Channeling her psychic energy, she activated the rune array etched into the air. A single step transported her to the remnants of a shattered altar, where chaos unfolded. Her loyal servant, Rosina, was locked in a frenzied assault against a black-haired man. "You bastard! Do you even realize what you¡¯ve done? You¡¯ve ruined everything!" Rosina screamed, her voice raw with rage. Her executioner¡¯s blade sliced through the air in a deadly arc, each swing aimed to carve the man into pieces. But her efforts were in vain.


    The man moved like a shadow, his steps precise and fluid. When Rosina swung her massive blade¡ªa weapon reminiscent of a monstrous katana¡ªhe dodged effortlessly. The blade was deadly, yes, but its size and weight made it predictable. Rosina¡¯s fury clouded her judgment, and the man took full advantage, weaving through her attacks like a dancer in a deadly waltz. No matter how wild her strikes became, he remained untouched, his movements a masterful blend of agility and calm.


    Frustrated, Syladria readied her twin mirror blades to join the fray. Before she could leap forward, however, the red-haired witch materialized inside the tent with a burst of psychic energy. "Rosina, my dear, calm yourself," she said, her tone light yet commanding. "Nothing has been ruined, I assure you. What you¡¯re so worried about won¡¯t happen. My mission is complete."


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    Rosina froze mid-strike, her blade trembling in her grasp. She lowered it reluctantly, stepping aside with a bowed head. The witch let out an exaggerated sigh, glancing around the ruined altar. "The only disappointment is that my army didn¡¯t make it through the gate. Such a waste. The spectacle could have been so much grander." Her eyes flicked to the man. "Still, it seems this little human boy did his job well. A shame, really¡ªhe¡¯s handsome enough, but what an idiot. Tell me, boy, what gives you the nerve to interfere with my plans?"


    Kayvaan, staggered back a few steps, his body taut with exhaustion. He had pushed himself to his limit. On any other day, he could¡¯ve riddled this fallen Eldar with a dozen or more holes. But now, all he could do was keep his distance, dodging her relentless attacks while maintaining a semblance of composure. After all, everyone in this tent was dangerous. Rosina, as a fallen Eldar, was an obvious enemy. But the other Eldar under Syladria weren¡¯t allies either, especially after the destruction of the demon altar. The two groups might not even need an excuse to turn on each other.


    If he had the chance, Kayvaan would¡¯ve bolted from this place immediately. Behind him, Elizabeth and her loyal retinue of battle-hardened nuns awaited, and further out, a garrison of defenders stood ready. Fighting here was madness. He¡¯d much rather regroup, have a decent meal, get some rest, and settle things later¡ªpreferably with better odds. But, as luck would have it, another obstacle had appeared: an unbelievably sinister red-haired woman. She didn¡¯t look friendly. Judging by her aura, she had to be a daemon.


    ¡®Seriously?¡¯ Kayvaan groaned internally. First I collapse the altar, then I try to catch my breath, and now this? A literal demon waltzes in the second the door opens? Perfect.¡¯ If he had known this would happen, he wouldn¡¯t have wasted time panting¡ªhe¡¯d have smashed the altar with his bare fists. But regrets wouldn¡¯t save him now. His priority was survival.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, kid?¡± the red-haired witch asked with a sly smile. ¡°Not happy I called you that? Or maybe it¡¯s the ¡®little¡¯ part that bothers you?¡± Kayvaan almost laughed out loud. Was this demon seriously teasing him? He decided to save his breath and ignore her.


    While Kayvaan stayed quiet, Syladria didn¡¯t. Her cold, disapproving voice cut through the tense air. ¡°So, you¡¯re working with a daemon? A succubus, no less. Tell me, Rosina, is she your mistress?¡±


    Rosina didn¡¯t respond, but her silence said enough. The witch, however, was quick to jump in. Feigning indignation, she said, ¡°Now, now, that¡¯s not very fair. Personally, I¡¯d love to have someone as exceptional as Rosina under my command. Truth be told, I¡¯ve had my eye on her for quite some time. But no, she¡¯s not my servant. Not yet, anyway.¡± The witch¡¯s smile turned mischievous as she added, ¡°Strictly speaking, we¡¯re just collaborators. Partners in a little¡­ arrangement. A fascinating deal, if I may say so. Would you like to know more, Syladria?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Rosina interrupted sharply. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten what you wanted. The deal¡¯s done. Now leave before you cause more trouble.¡±


    The witch tilted her head, feigning innocence. ¡°Oh? Don¡¯t want your little ¡®friend¡¯ here to know the details? Tsk, tsk, Rosina. So noble in your sacrifice, yet so ruthless in your methods. Such a fascinating contradiction¡ªhow do the extremes coexist in you, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Rosina snapped, her voice laced with warning. ¡°I mean it. Don¡¯t push me.¡±


    The witch¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Or what? You¡¯ll ¡®fall out¡¯ with me? How dramatic.¡± She glanced at the nearby Eldar rangers, her eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Ah, I see. You¡¯re worried about them, aren¡¯t you? If they knew the truth, things would get¡­ complicated. Very well. Let me make it simple for you.¡± Before anyone could react, the witch vanished. Or so it seemed.

 Chapter 97 - Kayvaans Resistance

    Kayvaan¡¯s sharp eyes caught it¡ªshe didn¡¯t truly disappear. Instead, she moved with such incredible speed that it gave the illusion of teleportation. One moment, she stood still. The next, she was behind an Eldar ranger. The sheer velocity of her movements blurred the line between stillness and motion.


    In a heartbeat, she raised a delicate hand and lightly tapped the ranger¡¯s back with her fingertip. That single touch was devastating. Her nail pierced through the ranger¡¯s psychic armor, tore through his flesh, and revealed the organs beneath. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering across the ground. The witch¡¯s red hair seemed to come alive, each strand turning razor-sharp. With a single sweep, her hair slashed through the rangers like blades, carving their bodies apart. Limbs flew, blood arced through the air, and their formation crumbled in an instant.


    The witch¡¯s movements were a dance of death. She ripped an arm off one ranger, kicked the leg off another, and left a trail of destruction wherever she moved. Her expression, however, was unnervingly serene¡ªalmost holy.


    As time passed, the rangers fell one by one, their efforts futile against the red-haired witch¡¯s power. Syladria made several desperate attempts to strike her down with her twin mirror swords, but every move was intercepted by Rosina¡¯s executioner blade. The battlefield descended into chaos, and Syladria¡¯s precision faltered. Her double-bladed technique fell apart, leaving her attacks clumsy and uncoordinated.


    Kayvaan watched from the sidelines, his sharp eyes observing every detail. It was painfully clear¡ªSyladria was doomed. She had lost her composure, descending into a frenzied state where even her confidence was shattered. Her strikes lacked any real threat, and with her collapse, so too did their chances of victory. Yet, their sacrifice bought Kayvaan little time.


    He sighed heavily and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a syringe. The vial contained a combat stimulant¡ªa dangerous tool of war. Injecting it would grant him temporary bursts of strength and speed, dulling pain and sharpening focus. But the cost was steep. Stimulants wreaked havoc on the body, carried the risk of addiction, and were a common reason why many veterans, desperate to endure, ended up dishonorably discharged or even executed for stealing supplies.


    Kayvaan despised the stuff. Yet, here and now, it was his only option. Meanwhile, the witch¡¯s almost done, and soon the rangers lay scattered like broken dolls. All except Syladria, who gripping her swords weakly.


    The result were like a painting. It depicted a serene balcony scene bathed in the crimson hues of a setting sun. The seated figure seemed tranquil, savoring black tea as the light dyed the world in blood red. Yet, something was missing. The figure¡¯s head was absent, leaving a hollow, haunting centerpiece to the witch¡¯s masterpiece. The red-haired witch regarded Syladria for a moment but then turned her gaze to Kayvaan, her crimson lips curling into a smile. "This one¡¯s handsome," she purred. "The kind that turns heads at first sight. I¡¯d hate to kill you, but my painting needs a finishing touch. Your head would be perfect."


    Kayvaan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You¡¯ve got to be joking."


    The witch¡¯s smile deepened. "Oh, don¡¯t be so hasty to refuse. Think about it. You¡¯re just a soldier¡ªa pawn sent to the battlefield to die for a crumbling empire and its decrepit emperor. What¡¯s the point of such a sacrifice? Empires rot, regimes collapse, and even your so-called God-Emperor decays in his throne. Your death here would be meaningless, forgotten in time." Her voice softened, honeyed and persuasive. "But art? Art is eternal. If your head completes my masterpiece, you¡¯ll be immortalized. People will marvel at the beauty of it for millennia. Your name will echo through eternity, tied to something far greater than yourself. Isn¡¯t that a far better legacy?"


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    Her words were like a venomous lullaby, sweet and seductive. Syladria, standing nearby, seemed to falter. She took two shaky steps forward, her eyes glassy. "Art¡­" Syladria murmured, her voice distant. "What could be more meaningful than that? To die for art¡­"


    Raising her mirror blades, she moved as if in a trance, preparing to sever her own head. At the last second, Rosina struck. Her executioner blade swung with precision, knocking Syladria¡¯s swords from her hands. "Snap out of it!" Rosina¡¯s voice cut through the haze like a whip. "Don¡¯t let her words poison your mind. Remember who you are. Let your path guide your emotions¡ªcontrol yourself!"


    Syladria stood frozen, blinking in confusion as the fog lifted. She glanced at her fallen swords and then back at Rosina, her expression utterly bewildered. The red-haired witch tilted her head, amused. "Oh, how noble of you, Rosina. Always so loyal, always so stubborn."


    Kayvaan noticed something strange about Syladria¡¯s dazed state. It had to be the witch¡¯s words¡ªher voice carried an unnatural charm, a power that seemed capable of bending minds.  But why wasn¡¯t he affected?


    Kayvaan found the witch¡¯s voice pleasant enough, sure, but beyond that? Nothing. Her reasoning sounded like nonsense¡ªso absurd it was almost laughable. As long as someone wasn¡¯t a complete fool, they wouldn¡¯t buy into it, right? Yet Syladria and the others fell under her spell, ready to end their lives at her suggestion.


    Meanwhile, Kayvaan, who was the witch¡¯s first target, felt absolutely nothing. ¡®Why?¡¯ he wondered. Did he unknowingly carry some artifact or charm that protected him from mental attacks? He quickly dismissed the idea¡ªit sounded like something out of a game. Still, the mystery nagged at him.


    To the red-haired witch, however, Kayvaan¡¯s unflinching demeanor meant something else entirely. She assumed he was locked in a deep internal struggle. She had encountered such situations before. Strong-willed individuals often resisted at first, but their hesitation was just a sign that they were ripe for the taking. The challenge only made the process sweeter. A man who crumbled instantly was boring, unworthy of her attention. But one who resisted? Ah, that made the game so much more exciting.


    The witch leaned in. She carefully channeled her psychic energy, letting it swirl around her words like an intoxicating mist. Her expression softened, her voice dipped into a soothing, almost maternal tone. ¡°Don¡¯t fight it so much,¡± she coaxed, her crimson eyes gleaming. ¡°I know you¡¯re confused¡ªtorn between eternal art and the life you can¡¯t let go of. But why cling so tightly? Let go. Once you surrender, all your doubts will disappear. You¡¯ll feel peace, joy, and become a part of something eternal. No regrets, only perfection.¡±


    Kayvaan stared at her blankly, saying nothing. In truth, he was enjoying her wasted effort. The longer she talked, the more time he had to recover.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± the witch asked, her tone growing sweeter. ¡°Haven¡¯t made up your mind yet? Why torment yourself like this? Liberation is right in front of you. The true gods will forgive your sins. End this struggle, and you¡¯ll finally be free.¡± She licked her lips, her tone dripping with temptation. ¡°Say what¡¯s on your mind. Speak your truth¡ªI¡¯m here to listen.¡±


    Kayvaan watched her with growing amusement. She was clearly getting impatient, and that was good news. daemons might be strong, but their patience often ran thin. ¡®No time left,¡¯ Kayvaan thought. He slipped a stimulant syringe from his pocket, his fingers curling around it as he weighed his options.

 Chapter 98 - Combat

    The drug was his last resort¡ªit would grant him enhanced strength, speed, and numb his pain, but at a cost. Once its effects wore off, he¡¯d be completely paralyzed, barely able to move a finger. He¡¯d be utterly defenseless, easy prey for anyone. ¡®If she avoids a direct fight, I¡¯m doomed. But if I can provoke her into attacking head-on¡­¡¯


    An idea sparked. Kayvaan let out an exaggerated sigh, putting on a pained expression. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m distressed,¡± he admitted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ¡°Distressed because there¡¯s an idiot standing in front of me.¡±


    The witch froze, momentarily stunned. ¡°What did you just say?¡± she demanded, her voice tinged with disbelief.


    Kayvaan smirked. ¡°Didn¡¯t hear me? Let me repeat it for you: you¡¯re an idiot. Who do you think you¡¯re fooling with that ridiculous nonsense?¡±


    The witch blinked, genuinely caught off guard. ¡°I¡­ What?!¡±


    ¡°Let me spell it out for you, daemon,¡± Kayvaan snarled, venom dripping from his words. He plunged the syringe into his chest. Pain surged through him as the stimulant took hold, his body trembling briefly before strength flooded his veins. With a metallic snap, the claws on his gloves extended, crackling with energy. ¡°You daemons really are brainless, aren¡¯t you? Or is it just you? Big breasts, empty skull¡ªguess even daemons aren¡¯t immune to that stereotype!¡± He clenched his fists, his grin widening. ¡°Enough talk! You¡¯re wasting my time. If you want to kill me, then do it. Otherwise, shut up and fight!¡±


    For a moment, the witch simply stared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. It¡¯s hard to anger a calm, calculating person. Those who think three steps ahead rarely let emotions cloud their judgment. But daemons? That¡¯s a different story. daemons are impulsive, malicious, and often driven by whims rather than logic. Their power makes them arrogant, and their tempers are notoriously short.


    Most beings tread carefully around daemons, knowing that provoking one is a death wish. Even among their own kind, lesser daemons live in fear of their superiors, trying to remain invisible to avoid drawing ire. But Kayvaan? He wasn¡¯t most beings.


    The red-haired witch¡¯s aura darkened, her crimson eyes blazing with fury. Kayvaan¡¯s taunts had struck a nerve, and her lips curled into a snarl. ¡°Fine,¡± she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. ¡°If it¡¯s a fight you want, human, then it¡¯s a fight you¡¯ll get.¡±


    The rage of a daemon is something primal and overwhelming, capable of transforming an icy wasteland into a fiery inferno. Even armies, faced with such wrath, would choose to retreat. No rational being willingly faces a daemon in a fit of fury.


    The stimulant¡¯s effects would last only five minutes. In that time, he¡¯d be faster, stronger, and capable of enduring far more damage than usual. For those five minutes, he was confident he could dominate the fight. But once the drug wore off, his body would crash, leaving him completely defenseless¡ªbarely able to move, let alone fight. Kayvaan knew the stakes. He had five minutes to end this, and provoking the daemon into an all-out fight was the only way.


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    The red-haired witch was livid. As a rising power among the legions of Chaos, her rapid ascent had drawn plenty of envy and whispers of dissent. She was used to the jealousy, the scheming, and the gossip. But in all her time, no creature¡ªmortal or otherwise¡ªhad dared to insult her to her face. She didn¡¯t understand why Kayvaan seemed completely unaffected by her charms, but at this point, it didn¡¯t matter. Nothing mattered except tearing this insolent human apart.


    Any words now would be wasted. The time for talk had passed. With a shrill scream, the witch leaped into the air, her nails elongating mid-flight into clawed blades that shimmered with an eerie, smoke-like red energy. Her psychic power turned her nails into deadly weapons, sharp and unyielding. With a single swipe, she could cleave through armor¡ªor tear Kayvaan¡¯s body to ribbons. But Kayvaan wasn¡¯t about to give her the chance.


    As she descended, Kayvaan rolled forward, pulling the bolt pistol from his thigh holster. Without even aiming, he fired several shots into the air, sending explosive rounds streaking toward the witch. The move was simple, almost old-fashioned, but it worked.


    The red-haired witch didn¡¯t have the grotesque, muscle-bound physique of a beast like the Golden Lion. Her form was lithe and elegant, and she wasn¡¯t about to mar it by tanking the bolt rounds head-on. Instead, she summoned a psychic shield with a flick of her hand. The rounds exploded harmlessly against the barrier, leaving her unharmed but momentarily blinded by the smoke and fire.


    That moment was all Kayvaan needed. Bursting from the smoke, he jumped at her, his lightning claws glinting as he aimed for her midsection. ¡°Ha! A sneak attack? On me?¡± the witch sneered, extending her claws to intercept his strike. Her hands closed around his claws, stopping them cold. ¡°Caught you, human. Now let¡¯s see you struggle!¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Kayvaan gritted his teeth and tightened his grip. ¡°Caught me? No, daemon¡ªI caught you!¡± With a sudden twist, Kayvaan wrenched the witch¡¯s hands aside, yanking her off balance. At the same time, he drove his elbow toward her face with blinding speed.


    The witch tried to counter, but her center of gravity shifted unexpectedly, leaving her open. Kayvaan¡¯s elbow connected with a sickening crack, striking her temple with precision. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through her body. Her vision spun, her head buzzed, and for the first time, she found herself utterly disoriented. Her psychic powers fizzled, her concentration shattered. For a split second, the daemon¡¯s mind was blank, overwhelmed by the sheer force of the blow.


    The technique wasn¡¯t something the daemon¡ªor anyone else in the universe¡ªhad ever seen. It was a simple yet effective close-combat maneuver, and Kayvaan had executed it flawlessly.


    As the witch staggered back, reeling from the strike, Kayvaan saw his opening. Lowering his center of gravity, he surged forward with a relentless barrage of attacks. Punches, slaps, eye strikes, jabs, elbows, shoulder slams, kicks, and stomps¡ªall flowed together in a seamless, brutal rhythm. Each movement was efficient, and unrelenting.


    Between strikes, his claws flashed out, slicing, and stabbing. In just three breaths, Kayvaan had landed sixty-four consecutive hits. The red-haired witch, overwhelmed and unable to regain her footing, could do nothing but endure the onslaught. Her body jerked and twisted under the barrage, her elegant form battered like a sandbag. Finally, Kayvaan ended the combination with a devastating side kick.


    Kayvaan kicked the red-haired witch, sending her flying, but he wasn¡¯t about to let her rest. As she crashed into the ruined auditorium, he drew his bolt pistol and emptied the entire magazine into her, each shot reverberating like thunder in the desolate space. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had this much fun beating someone up,¡± Kayvaan said, cracking his neck and flexing his wrists. ¡°And against a beautiful woman, no less. Ah, it feels great¡ªlike the good old days when I could go all out. Hahaha! What are you doing lying down? Get up already!¡±

 Chapter 99 - Time Is up

    As if on cue, the red-haired witch rose from the wreckage, her body emitting sickening pops and cracks as her broken bones reset themselves. Kayvaan¡¯s onslaught had nearly shattered her entire skeletal frame, and his claws had torn through her internal organs like wet paper. One of her eyes had even been gouged out by a well-placed crane-mouth punch.


    Yet none of it seemed to matter. The injuries were knitting themselves back together at an alarming rate. Her mutilated form rapidly regenerated, and in moments, the black silk dress she¡¯d been wearing was replaced by swirling black psychic energy. The smoke coiled around her body, hardening into thick, jagged black armor.


    ¡°I underestimated you, human,¡± the witch said, her voice calm and measured, though her crimson eyes still blazed with fury. ¡°But that won¡¯t happen again. Now, you¡¯ll face me at my full strength.¡±


    She reached into the void and pulled out a massive black crystalline sword. Its blade was wickedly jagged, emanating a chilling aura that froze the air around it. ¡°This blade will trap your soul, imprisoning it for eternity. Your suffering will become part of my masterpiece!¡±


    Kayvaan sneered. ¡°You changed your outfit, but you¡¯re still spouting the same useless nonsense. Come on already!¡±


    The witch didn¡¯t attack right away. Instead, she turned her head toward the Spirit Tribe warriors. Her gaze settled on Rosina. ¡°Rosina,¡± the witch said coolly, ¡°are you just going to stand there and watch me get beaten to a pulp?¡±


    Rosina smirked, resting her executioner¡¯s blade on her shoulder. ¡°If I had some tea, I¡¯d sit down and enjoy the show.¡±


    ¡°How thoughtful,¡± the witch replied with mock sweetness. ¡°But don¡¯t forget¡ªI haven¡¯t fulfilled my part of the deal yet.¡±


    ¡°You got what you wanted, and I upheld my end of the bargain. We¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the witch said with a sly smile, her gaze shifting briefly to Syladria, who stood nearby. ¡°You delivered the goods, but I haven¡¯t paid up yet.¡±


    Rosina¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re trying to back out on our deal. If you do, I¡¯ll hunt you down¡ªeven if you hide in the depths of Chaos. You know I can.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± the witch said, shrugging. ¡°I¡¯m not backing out. I just need a little help finishing this human. Then I¡¯ll honor our agreement.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡±


    ¡°You never have, and I can¡¯t blame you. But you¡¯re out of options.¡± The witch spread her hands as if in apology. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯d rather take him down myself, but this human¡­ He¡¯s something else. A monster. Rosina, lend me your strength.¡±


    Rosina sighed and glanced at Syladria. ¡°It looks like I have to stand with the daemon again. Just this once, can you stay out of it?¡±


    Syladria frowned. ¡°Rosina, what kind of deal did you make with this devil? How could you trust her? She¡¯s clearly manipulating you!¡±


    Rosina didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I know. I know it¡¯s stupid. But I didn¡¯t have a choice. I¡¯ll deal with the consequences later. Just don¡¯t interfere.¡±


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    After a moment of hesitation, Syladria stepped back. ¡°The Eldar sure are reliable allies,¡± Kayvaan said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Syladria, weren¡¯t we supposed to be on the same side? And now you¡¯re just going to stand there and watch me get ganged up on?¡±


    Syladria¡¯s face was impassive. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t keep my promise.¡±


    Kayvaan chuckled bitterly. ¡°Figures. Never had high expectations for the Eldar¡¯s sense of honor anyway. Well, that makes it two against one.¡± He studied his opponents. The red-haired witch, now clad in black armor and wielding a cursed sword, radiated raw power. Beside her stood Rosina, a deadly force in her own right, her executioner¡¯s blade gleaming with malice.


    Both were as beautiful as they were terrifying. Alone, either one could destroy worlds. Together, they were an unstoppable storm. Yet Kayvaan only laughed. ¡°Perfect. This makes it a fair fight. Let¡¯s go!¡±


    When the two women attacked in unison, Kayvaan felt the weight of their combined power bearing down on him like an avalanche. The battles he¡¯d fought before had been grueling, even unlucky at times, but he¡¯d always managed to maintain control.  ¡°Why do you keep fighting? The survivor won¡¯t be you!¡± the red-haired witch taunted, swinging her black magic sword with calculated move. Each strike was meant to limit Kayvaan¡¯s movement, her blade cutting arcs of freezing air as it descended. All the while, her voice lashed at him as persistently as her weapon. ¡°Do you honestly think you can take on the two of us alone? Know your place, human. You¡¯re just a mortal. Stop chasing what¡¯s impossible!¡±


    Rosina, on the other hand, said nothing. She held the executioner¡¯s blade in a white-knuckled grip, her focus absolute. Her strikes were deliberate, her movements precise. Each attack came from a cunning angle, her blade dancing between brutal swings and sudden, unexpected thrusts meant to exploit even the smallest opening in Kayvaan¡¯s defenses.


    A mortal. Kayvaan didn¡¯t see himself as anything more. He wasn¡¯t some legendary hero, nor did he believe he was inherently superior.  To an ordinary person, facing either would be suicidal¡ªa clash with figures from legends. Facing both was sheer lunacy.


    This was, without question, the toughest battle of Kayvaan¡¯s life. The moment the red-haired witch revealed her unnatural speed, any hope of retreat was gone. Running would only ensure a swifter death. Victory or death¡ªthose were the only choices now.


    Kayvaan didn¡¯t bother responding to the witch¡¯s verbal jabs. He spoke with his claws instead. Electric energy arced across the air as his lightning claws met Rosina¡¯s blade and the witch¡¯s magic sword. Their weapons clashed with ferocity, releasing bursts of brilliant sparks and high-pitched screeches of metal grinding against psychic energy.


    Not far from the chaos, the grotesque painting of corpses and blood lay undisturbed. Syladria, standing in tense silence, found herself transfixed. The beauty of the scene before her struck her unexpectedly. It wasn¡¯t the hollow beauty of a canvas or an artificial masterpiece¡ªit was the raw, visceral beauty of life and death colliding.


    In the center of the arena, three warriors moved with lethal grace. Their strikes were fluid yet merciless, their movements fueled by raw hatred and the primal instinct to survive. Each attack carried a singular purpose: to kill. But no victor emerged. The fight had reached a stalemate, with neither side able to deliver a decisive blow. ¡®How?¡¯ Syladria thought, her eyes wide with disbelief. ¡®Is this human protected by Khaine, the God of War? How can he hold his own? No, this isn¡¯t human¡ªit¡¯s a monster!¡¯


    Kayvaan fought hard to maintain his rhythm. He couldn¡¯t afford to let either opponent gain control of the battle. With the witch¡¯s magic sword forcing him back and Rosina¡¯s blade attacking from the flanks, his movements were tightly constrained. But Kayvaan stayed sharp, forcing the two to respond to his tempo. He pressed whenever he could, searching for an opening to land a decisive blow.


    Despite his precarious position, he could feel himself gradually seizing control of the fight. If he could keep this pace, victory might just be within reach. But then reality hit him like a hammer. A ten-second countdown echoed in his ears, a harsh reminder that the stimulant coursing through his veins was about to run out. Five minutes of superhuman speed and strength¡ªhis borrowed time was nearly up.


    The fight reached its peak. Syladria held her breath, her gaze locked on the battlefield. She didn¡¯t dare blink, knowing the outcome could be decided in an instant.

 Chapter 100 - Im Going To Vomit

    Then, Kayvaan faltered. It was barely noticeable at first¡ªa slight shake in his movements, a momentary loss of balance. He staggered back, his composure breaking for the first time.


    The red-haired witch¡¯s eyes lit up with savage glee. She didn¡¯t hesitate. Her magic sword came down in a blur, aimed directly at him.


    Kayvaan saw the blade coming, but he was too slow to fully evade. Twisting his body, he managed to avoid a mortal blow, but the sword struck his left arm. The blade severed his forearm, leaving his hand and the Raven''s Talons clattering to the ground. Pain ripped through him, white-hot and searing. Blood sprayed across the floor, and his vision wavered for a moment.


    The witch¡¯s lips curled into a triumphant smile. She could almost taste her victory. ¡°One arm down,¡± she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. ¡°You won¡¯t be fighting for much longer. You¡¯ll bleed out before you can even scream. And the magic sword? It amplifies your pain tenfold. Most of my victims don¡¯t die from blood loss¡ªthey die from agony.¡±


    But there was none of that. Kayvaan¡¯s face remained unnervingly calm. There was no scream, no fear, no despair. Only determination.


    A chill ran through her. In an instant, she felt an unprecedented danger, and then¡ªsharp, searing pain lanced through her chest. Something had pierced her heart. When her sword had severed his left arm, Kayvaan hadn¡¯t faltered. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, he had caught his own severed limb mid-fall with his remaining hand. Using it as an improvised weapon, he drove the still-clenched Raven''s Talons straight into the witch¡¯s heart.


    The claws, still sparking with energy, punched through her armor, pierced her chest, and emerged from her back. The lightning coursing through them roasted her black heart into a charred lump. Kayvaan didn¡¯t stop there. Releasing his grip on his severed arm, he left it embedded in her chest and turned sharply to avoid Rosina¡¯s blade. Pivoting on his heel, he brought his right hand down like an axe, his Raven''s Talons slicing clean through the witch¡¯s forearms. Her hands fell to the ground, but the witch didn¡¯t scream. She was no ordinary creature; she had risen through the ranks of Chaos through ruthless determination and unyielding will. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she twisted her body and lashed out with a powerful kick.


    Any part of the witch¡¯s body could kill, and her legs were no exception. Her foot shot forward like a blade, stabbing into Kayvaan¡¯s abdomen and bursting through his back.


    Kayvaan looked down at the witch¡¯s foot, now embedded in his stomach. His breathing was labored, but his expression remained unchanged. With his one remaining hand, he gripped the witch¡¯s thigh firmly. Instead of retreating, he surged forward, driving her leg deeper into his body until her entire calf emerged from his back.


    The red-haired witch froze, her eyes wide with horror. This man¡ªthis thing¡ªwas more terrifying than any daemon she had ever encountered. Her hatred turned to regret. She should have left when she had the chance. But Kayvaan didn¡¯t care about her thoughts. Using his abdomen and pelvis to trap her leg, he raised his right hand high and brought it down with savage force. His Raven''s Talons severed her leg cleanly at the hip.


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    The witch screamed, hopping backward on her remaining leg. Her hands were gone, her heart charred, and now her leg severed. Yet even with her extraordinary vitality, the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. She looked at Kayvaan as if he were a ghost. Kayvaan, unfazed, reached down to pull the witch¡¯s severed leg from his body. Tossing it aside, he stomped on it, crushing the limb underfoot.


    At that moment, the countdown in his mind hit zero. The stimulant¡¯s effects ended abruptly, and a flood of pain and exhaustion overtook him. Kayvaan stood motionless in the center of the arena, blood pouring from his wounds, his strength gone. Yet his expression betrayed nothing. He stared at the witch and the shocked Spirit Tribe warriors with calm defiance, even as his body threatened to collapse. He knew his time had run out. Whatever came next was out of his hands. Inwardly, he prayed. ¡®God-Emperor, grant me your blessing.¡¯


    The red-haired witch roared in a mixture of pain, fury, and terror. The humiliation she had endured was unbearable, but worse than that was the fear gnawing at her insides. This human¡ªthis mortal¡ªhad made her feel fear. Such a being could not be allowed to exist. Hopping back to create distance, she screamed, ¡°Kill him! No matter the cost!¡±


    Rosina, standing silently nearby, tilted her head. ¡°Any cost?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± the witch bellowed. ¡°Whatever it takes! Kill him!¡±


    Rosina¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Understood.¡± Amid the daemon¡¯s frightened screams, Rosina raised her executioner¡¯s blade and drove it into the red-haired witch¡¯s back. The long knife pierced clean through, its tip emerging from the witch¡¯s chest before continuing its descent. With a sharp thrust, Rosina slammed the blade downward, pinning the witch to the ground.


    Kayvaan, too weak to resist, fell with the blade. The witch, now a one-legged mess, lost her balance and collapsed onto Kayvaan, the two of them skewered together by the same knife. ¡°What the hell are you doing?!¡± the witch shrieked, her voice high-pitched and raw with panic. Between the blade in her back and the terrifying proximity to Kayvaan, she was completely unhinged. ¡°Rosina, you traitorous bitch! Have you lost your mind? You stabbed me! Me! Do you even care about your precious little lover¡¯s life? How dare you¡ªahhh, it hurts! It hurts!¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Redhead,¡± Rosina replied, her voice cold and detached. ¡°Take a closer look. I didn¡¯t really hurt you. The blade avoided your vital organs.¡± She paused, her tone sharpening. ¡°Do you know why you couldn¡¯t beat him? Because he dodged every single one of your attacks. His footwork is impeccable, and he sees through your moves before you make them. As long as he can move freely, you¡¯ll never touch him. But now?¡±


    Rosina gestured to the two of them, pinned together on the knife. ¡°Now he¡¯s stuck. No matter how skilled he is, he can¡¯t use that to his advantage anymore. This is the best way to deal with him.¡±


    Kayvaan, despite the situation, found this utterly absurd. He wanted to laugh, and so he did¡ªharder than he had in a long time. Tears welled in his eyes from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Rosina had gone to such lengths when he was already too exhausted and injured to be a threat. Between gasps of laughter, he managed to choke out, ¡°You didn¡¯t need to go this far. I¡¯m not more dangerous than a baby right now.¡±


    The witch snarled, turning her fury toward him. ¡°What are you laughing at, human? You¡¯re at the end of your rope!¡±


    Kayvaan grinned. ¡°Oh, nothing. I¡¯m just proud. As a mortal, I scared the two of you this much. Heh, it¡¯s an achievement worth celebrating.¡±


    The witch¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Proud? You should be terrified. Look at where you are¡ªpinned beneath me, with no way to escape. Do you know what I¡¯ll do to you now?¡± Her lips twisted into a wicked smile, and she leaned closer, her voice dripping with malice. ¡°I¡¯ll devour you.¡± She ran her tongue along her lips, her body shifting against Kayvaan¡¯s in a deliberate motion. Her voice dropped into a low, magnetic tone. ¡°So? Being this close to me¡ªfeeling my body pressed against yours¡ªdoesn¡¯t it make you feel something?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s face twisted in disgust. ¡°Oh, Emperor save me¡ªI think I¡¯m going to vomit.¡±

 Chapter 101 - Now Kneel

    The witch froze, caught off guard by his blunt response.


    ¡°Have you looked at yourself lately?¡± Kayvaan continued, grimacing. ¡°You¡¯re missing half your body! An arm is dangling from your chest, one leg¡¯s gone, your hands are stumps, and there¡¯s a knife sticking through you. You¡¯re dripping blood everywhere. You¡¯re more wrecked than a piece of battlefield scrap, and you think this is seductive?¡± He snorted. ¡°And stop grinding against me¡ªit hurts, and I¡¯ve already lost too much blood. Seriously, is this your new form of torture?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± The witch stammered, her voice breaking with indignation. ¡°You disgusting maggot! You lowly creature! I¡¯ll¡ªwait¡ª¡± She paused, suddenly realizing something. A sly smile spread across her face. ¡°You¡¯re trying to provoke me, aren¡¯t you? You want to die quickly, don¡¯t you? Nice try, but it won¡¯t work.¡±


    Kayvaan smiled faintly but said nothing. ¡°Oh, I see now,¡± the witch purred, her eyes gleaming. ¡°You think you¡¯ve conquered fear because you¡¯re not even afraid of death. How naive. But don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve thought of something far worse for you.¡± Her excitement grew as she leaned in, her face inches from his. ¡°You¡¯ll become my slave, my eternal servant. You¡¯ll fight for me, suffer for me, and entertain me for eternity. Doesn¡¯t that sound delightful?¡±


    Kayvaan remained silent, his expression impassive. ¡°Come now, don¡¯t look so unimpressed,¡± the witch teased, her smile widening. ¡°It¡¯s simple. All it takes to seal the deal is a kiss.¡± She leaned down, her lips meeting his in a deep, forceful kiss.


    Through that connection, the corrupting power of Chaos flowed. It slid into Kayvaan¡¯s body like a serpent, subtle and insidious. The sensation wasn¡¯t unpleasant¡ªit was warm, intoxicating, even pleasurable. A rush of euphoria filled him, mingled with a heady dizziness. For a fleeting moment, it felt like a lover¡¯s kiss, passionate and intimate.


    This was the power of Slaanesh, god of excess and hedonism. Unlike the raw brutality of Khorne, the scheming manipulations of Tzeentch, or the festering decay of Nurgle, Slaanesh¡¯s dominion was indulgent, seductive, and artfully destructive. Many who fell to Slaanesh did so willingly, intoxicated by its alluring promises of pleasure and fulfillment.


    ¡®To die from a kiss¡ªespecially one given by an enchanting beauty¡ªwasn¡¯t the worst way to go.¡¯ Kayvaan admitted this to himself as his vision blurred and his body felt the pull of unconsciousness. Compared to being struck down by lightning or enduring the torturous trials inflicted by his mentor in the endless expanse of his mind, this felt almost poetic.


    Yet, there was a irony in his situation. The red-haired witch, who had kissed him with such sinister intent, was far from beautiful now. Her body, battered and broken by his own hands, looked more like a shambling zombie than the alluring seductress she once was. The thought made Kayvaan¡¯s stomach turn.


    Would this be how it ended for him? Would his mind be consumed, his body turned into a mere puppet for the daemon who had defeated him? Kayvaan didn¡¯t know much about how Chaos corruption worked, but his curiosity drove him to observe the process unfolding within him.


    The power of Chaos entered Kayvaan¡¯s body, moving with a practiced precision honed over countless corruptions. The red-haired witch had overseen this transformation many times. For her, it was a ritual she could perform blindfolded¡ªa predictable sequence that always ended the same way.


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    Chaos, as it always did, reached into the deepest recesses of its victim¡¯s heart. It searched for the hidden darkness buried beneath layers of self-control and morality. That darkness, invisible in daily life even to the victim, was a treasure trove for Chaos¡ªa wellspring of corruption waiting to be unleashed.


    The witch had seen it countless times. Not long ago, she had kissed a soldier in the Defense Force, a man once renowned for his valor and glory. Under her influence, the hidden shadows in his heart were catalyzed, transforming him into a mindless beast driven only by bloodlust.


    There was no reason for her to believe this case would be any different. Everyone who had tasted her lips had fallen without exception. As Chaos manifested itself in Kayvaan¡¯s conscious world, it took the form of the red-haired witch. Her ethereal avatar entered the depths of his mind, seeking the core of his being. What she found was¡­ unexpected.


    In the farthest corner of Kayvaan¡¯s consciousness stood a box, tied neatly with colorful ribbons. The witch tilted her head. Humans always locked their desires and fears in containers¡ªboxes, jars, even safes. It was a common manifestation in the mindscape. But a gift box? That was rare.


    Still, she wasn¡¯t fazed. Over the millennia, she had encountered every quirk imaginable. With a smirk, she tore off the ribbons, ripping the box open with eager hands. Inside, she found what she expected: pure, unfiltered darkness.


    Kayvaan¡¯s eyes turned pitch black, devoid of whites or pupils. They became twin abysses, pulling at the souls of all who dared meet his gaze. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± the red-haired witch declared, satisfaction dripping from her voice. She turned to Rosina, still standing nearby. ¡°You can remove the blade now, my dear collaborator. There¡¯s no danger anymore.¡±


    ¡°Redhead,¡± Rosina said evenly, her expression unreadable, ¡°it¡¯s time for you to fulfill your promise.¡±


    ¡°Are you threatening me?¡± Despite her disheveled state, the witch¡¯s voice remained imperious. Even pinned to the ground, she radiated authority. ¡°Rosina, do not test my patience. I do not break my word. But don¡¯t forget¡ªyou can¡¯t threaten me. Killing me would accomplish nothing. daemons don¡¯t die. Even if you strike me down, I¡¯ll simply regenerate in the Chaos Realm.¡±


    Rosina¡¯s grip tightened on her blade, but she knew the witch was right. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the knife from the ground, freeing both the witch and Kayvaan.


    The red-haired witch wasted no time. Chaos energy surged through her, repairing her broken body. Her shattered heart reformed, her severed hands reattached, and her lost leg was regenerated. However, her crushed eye remained irreparable; she hastily covered the empty socket with a piece of white gauze.


    Within moments, she had returned to her former glory. The tattered remains of her dress were replaced by a flowing black gown, sheer and sensual, exuding an air of power and mystery. Despite her visibly tired face, her excitement was undeniable. She hadn¡¯t just survived¡ªshe had won. And her prize was a slave unlike any other. ¡°Stand, my slave,¡± she commanded, her voice trembling with exhilaration. ¡°Tell me¡ªwho is your master?¡±


    Kayvaan¡¯s eyes, dark as twin abysses, stared motionlessly at the top of the tent. For a moment, he seemed detached from the world, as though lost in thought or observing something unseen.


    The red-haired witch frowned, sensing the eerie stillness. But then, Kayvaan sighed. ¡°As soon as I open my eyes, someone dares to speak to me like this? How ironic,¡± he said, his tone laced with dry humor. ¡°Master? Hahaha. Who in this world dares to claim mastery over me? I doubt even that decrepit Emperor would dare.¡±


    Slowly, he sat up. His abyssal eyes flicked toward the red-haired witch, and just that glance made her tremble uncontrollably. ¡°Little girl,¡± Kayvaan said, his voice steady yet filled with oppressive weight, ¡°you have guts to speak to me like that. Normally, I¡¯d punish you, but since you¡¯re the one who released me, I¡¯ll be merciful. I¡¯ll spare your life.¡± He paused, letting his words sink in. ¡°Now kneel, devote yourself to serving me, and I promise I won¡¯t be stingy with rewards.¡±