Clang!
The Blade of Eternal Grief and Sorrow's Harbinger clashed, sending a shower of sparks into the dim twilight. Olica moved like a shadow, her figure flickering in and out of the dusky courtyard. Wherever the Dark Elf passed, a chilling aura of the underworld followed, a mark of the curse left by the Pale Queen.
After being rejected by Ulthuan, the Pale Queen had descended into the depths of the underworld, her heart filled with hatred and venom. Olica's every movement carried the biting cold and malice of the netherworld. Yet, even in the face of this chilling power, Yvraine, the chosen of the Eldar Death God Ynnead, felt an eerie sense of familiarity—almost harmony. After all, the Pale Queen was the goddess of the dead, and Ynnead was the god of death itself.
The freezing chill seeped into Yvraine's muscles, much like the relentless cold she endured in the death arenas of Commorragh or the countless bloody battles during Biel-Tan's fall. Her heart pounded with a warrior's excitement. The Death God's chosen twisted her body, her long hair and crimson dress swirling with her movements. Blue flames of death wrapped around the Blade of Eternal Grief. After their blades clashed again, she instinctively leaped back, the blue flames lighting up the twilight courtyard and revealing Olica's leaping figure. The Dark Elf let out a cold chuckle as the winds of the underworld grew more violent.
A hundred tortured Elven souls screamed as they were summoned by Olica, rushing toward Yvraine in a storm of anguish. It was impossible to tell whether these souls were eternally enslaved by the Pale Queen or had escaped the clutches of Slaanesh. Their agonized cries brought sweat to Yvraine's brow. She knew she was no match for Olica's strength. Though she didn't understand why this being had chosen to serve Ryan, her status as a Primarch made it less surprising. Yvraine began calling upon Ynnead's power.
From the void came the Death God's power: a sinister purple mask with a twisted tongue that greedily devoured the summoned souls. Olica's amber eyes narrowed in surprise as she felt her control over the consumed souls vanish completely. With a sharp increase in speed, the Dark Elf unleashed cold winds and explosive destruction magic in her incantations.
Then, they vanished into nothingness!
Ynnead's power enveloped Yvraine, turning Olica's spells to void. The Death God's chosen danced through the battlefield with her blade like a flower blooming amidst chaos. She tore through Olica's attacks with graceful precision, and her Blade of Eternal Grief released a phoenix-like psychic wail. The powerful shockwave forced Olica back, even shaking her artifact dagger, Sorrow's Harbinger. The Dark Elf cursed under her breath, flipping mid-air before landing gracefully a short distance away.
Though it seemed Olica had taken the worse of the exchange, Yvraine knew the truth—she had lost. Her opponent had not even called upon divine power. The Death God's chosen gripped her sword tightly, her voice tinged with confusion as she addressed Olica.
"Even if he is a perfect child of the gods, there's no need for you to serve him."
"How amusing. There's no record of you in the ancient texts or the accounts of the gods," Olica replied, her voice cold yet laced with curiosity. Shadows and the winds of the underworld shrouded her figure as her amber eyes burned with divine light. "I don't understand your origins, nor do I understand how someone so weak is still alive."
"Because He is incomplete," Yvraine retorted coldly.
"Once fallen, nothing is ever whole again. Not even the Asur. All the gods are but fragments of their former selves."
"I have no interest in debating this with you. I'm here to see the Primarch," Yvraine declared firmly. "I have come to claim what was promised and seek assistance as per our agreement—for the future of my people."
"The future of our people?" Olica sneered, her contempt cutting deep. Her gaze made Yvraine feel as if her very soul was being mocked. "What can you do? You can't even defeat me. At best, you could deal with a Daemon Prince. Against a true Greater Daemon? Forget it. And you think you can restore the glory of our people? Save us from our plight? Let Him speak to me directly. You are not worthy."
Yvraine's teeth clenched in frustration, but she could not refute Olica's words. Before she could respond, the embodiment of Ynnead, the Avatar of Death, emerged in the corridor.
Clad in flames and adorned with a crown of soulstones, its body radiated a violet glow that combined brutality with elegance. Its voice echoed softly. "You are injured, and so you cannot leave the Primarch's side."
"What does that have to do with you?" Olica snapped. "You're nothing but a fragment. Your current power isn't even a match for my master."
"I can use the soulstones to repair the wounds in your soul," Ynnead's Avatar replied. "Alternatively, I can grant you the knowledge and power of the Seventh Path. The choice is yours, but there is only one soulstone."
Olica's eyes widened, surprised that the Avatar would make such an offer.
This was so unlike Elves! There had to be some hidden agenda. "Why should I trust you?"
"The Lord of Humanity has already paid the price for this," the Avatar of Death whispered. "Make your choice: freedom or power."
Olica fell silent, her gaze fixed on Ynnead's Avatar. She could tell it had no reason to deceive her.
"Join us," Yvraine urged. "Together, we can save our people. To fight our great enemy, we have sacrificed so much, but there is still hope. We can defeat Slaanesh and unite the Eldar. We will gather the survivors, rebuild our homes, and create a new society. Together, we will carve out a destiny of our own among the stars!"
Olica sheathed her dagger, her expression conflicted.
If she chose to repair her soul, she could gain freedom and join the Death God's forces, possibly gaining the ability to traverse the stars. However, accepting Ynnead's power would bind her to the god forever, limiting her autonomy.
If she chose the knowledge and power of the Seventh Path, she would remain dependent on Ryan's psychic imprints and protection to shield her from Slaanesh's relentless pursuit. While this offered greater potential for growth, it also meant she could never leave Ryan's side.
In the quiet courtyard of Fontainebleau Palace, only the sound of autumn leaves rustling in the wind could be heard. Olica's spell, Shadow of the Pale Queen's Underworld, had blocked out all intrusions.
Both Ynnead's Avatar and Yvraine awaited Olica's decision. Yvraine even allowed herself a glimmer of hope. If Olica joined them, the Seventh Path would gain a powerful ally. The combined forces of the Death God and the God of the Dead would greatly increase their chances of defeating Slaanesh.
But Olica didn't take long to decide. She raised her head, a mischievous smile on her lips, and gave her answer.
"To stay with my master, pursue greater power, and enjoy twice the pleasure… why not?"
I Am Twice the Joy, Divider of Happiness
Moments later, Olica led Yvraine into Ryan's office. Sitting behind his desk, the Primarch couldn't help but feel both amused and exasperated.
Ryan had heard of the famous "Regent's Consort" and had even mocked his thirteenth brother for it. Yet, now faced with Yvraine in person, Ryan realized he wasn't in a position to judge. Instead, he shifted to mocking his brother's taste. Yvraine's aura was more wild and savage, evoking a primal desire for conquest. While she was beautiful, her looks paled in comparison to Olica's.
Ryan, of course, conveniently forgot how wild and untamed Olica had been when he first captured her.
"In accordance with the pact we made with the Lord of Humanity, and as payment for saving that priest's life, I've come to claim our reward," Yvraine said, her tone icy. Still fuming over Olica's rejection, she forced a fake smile. "You're a young Primarch. I always thought you'd be more like your brothers."
"Mysterious, brooding, or perhaps imposing?" Ryan stood, hands behind his back, studying the Death God's chosen. Yvraine wore a tight rune-armored bodysuit that covered her entire body, from her neck to her hands and feet. Even her fingers and toes were partially wrapped, with the suit looping around her middle fingers. Her high ponytail added to her imposing height. However, her strength, equivalent to a mid-level Sanctuary warrior, left Ryan intrigued. Yvraine was clearly being heavily suppressed by this world. No wonder she had died so many times and needed Ynnead's power to keep resurrecting her.
Her appearance also reminded Ryan of other things—like certain anime heroines.
"Not exactly. You lack their wisdom, vitality, and talent for communication," Yvraine said coolly. "But that doesn't matter."
"Hold on a moment." Ryan gestured for her to wait as he retrieved the items.
The Primarch had prepared them long ago, though he couldn't help but grumble internally about the Eldar's timing. It had been three years since he was informed that the Death God's forces would come to settle this matter. To him, it felt like an eternity.
But then Ryan reminded himself that for the Eldar, whose ordinary lives spanned thousands of years, three years was barely a moment.
Returning with the items, Ryan presented a flaming longsword and a glowing strand of crystalline beads.
"This is…" Yvraine took the sword, forged from dwarven tempered steel and inscribed with runes and porcelain inlays. Strange ancient text adorned the blade. The beads, meanwhile, emitted a blindingly bright, transparent light.
"This is the Fang of Retribution and the Beads of Karma," Ryan explained. "The sword bears scripture that I personally inscribed and was tempered in my blood. Both items also carry a portion of my power."
"With these, we'll be able to defeat Shalaxi Helbane?" Yvraine's eyes lit up with hope.
"No," Ryan scoffed. "Shalaxi Helbane is a legendary Greater Daemon under Slaanesh, powerful enough to have defeated even Skarbrand. If its true form descends, even a demigod Primarch would struggle to win. As Chaos is my specialty, even I cannot guarantee victory against such an opponent."
"Then what's the point of these items?!" Yvraine's face fell.
"These will ensure your defeat isn't utterly humiliating," Ryan said dryly. "At the very least, this sword will help counter Shalaxi Helbane's spells. As for the beads… they'll grant you one opportunity to escape its clutches when you're on the verge of defeat. But remember, it's a one-time-use item."
One-time use. Yvraine hesitated but ultimately accepted the items. "As a token of gratitude, I'll offer you this."
She handed Ryan a dagger. Its blade was embedded with a soulstone brimming with Ynnead's divine power. The dagger's shape was unusual, resembling a triangle fused with a distorted "丰" character, offering little to grip.
"This is the Soul's Redemption," Yvraine explained. "It can resurrect a dying noble soul, but only if they are an Elf. Like your beads, it can only be used once."
"It can revive an Elf?" Ryan's mind raced with possibilities but he said nothing, merely nodding for Olica to accept the dagger. "In that case, I have something to offer in return."
Ryan handed Yvraine a scroll. "This is a Chrono-Field Scroll. Tear it open when needed, and it will create a temporal field that freezes a designated area. The duration depends on Warp energy and physical constants, but it will last no less than six seconds."
After exchanging gifts, Yvraine declared her departure. The three leaders of the Death God's forces would leave this world via the Webway.
"Master, her power is fascinating," Olica mused playfully after the Death God's chosen left. "She showed me a path I hadn't considered before… Some of it was quite intriguing."
"Interesting?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! It's similar to what Lilith once envisioned—reviving Nagash and letting the Lord of the Undead resurrect all the dead to resist the End Times. This so-called Seventh Path of the Death God also believes that the only way to truly activate Ynnead's power and defeat Slaanesh is for every single Elf or Eldar to die." Olica shook her head. "But that would be incredibly, incredibly difficult to achieve."
"Indeed, very difficult," Ryan agreed. He paused before asking, "Did she try to poach you?"
"She did." Olica sheathed the dagger and leaned against Ryan's back, her voice sweet. "But I'd still rather stay with you, Master."
Ryan couldn't help but smile. Olica had promised to stay with him forever.
After a moment of quiet intimacy, a knock came at the door. A maid entered, informing them that the five "Sons of Bretonnia" were waiting to meet the King.
Olica stepped back to stand behind Ryan as he gestured for his five "children" to enter. Over the past two years, tales of the legendary "Sons of Bretonnia" had spread far and wide. One by one, they entered the room.
Ryan had already given them new names: "Petain," "Joffre," "Foch," "MacMahon," and "Gustave."
These five were his new Grey Knight recruits—his ultimate trump card and final defense.
One day, they might even become the saviors of the Old World!
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