Laya endured Vekich's nauseating touches and verbal insults, feeling his cold fingers trace her back, unbuttoning the delicate buttons of her dress one by one. Humiliation and rage burned within her like a flame. She suddenly pushed hard, trying to shove away the Dark Eldar who treated her as a plaything, her voice trembling slightly with agitation:
"Didn't you keep saying that we humans are all savage, uncivilized apes? If so, why are you so interested in this 'ape' body of mine? Your inconsistency makes me sick, Vekich!"
Her resistance, far from making Vekich restrain himself, seemed to stimulate his pathological desire for conquest. He chuckled, his arms tightening like iron bands, almost severing Laya's slender waist. One hand still greedily caressed her brilliant golden hair, woven like sunlight, while the other explored more brazenly downwards. The opening at the back of her dress grew wider and wider, revealing the fair, smooth skin beneath.
"It's precisely because you are inferior apes that conquering you holds a special kind of interest, my dear Laya." Vekich leaned close to her ear, whispering in his magnetic voice, his warm, moist breath caressing her earlobe with a sacrilegious intimacy. "And, I must admit, among you 'apes,' you truly are... a perfect work of art, one in a million. This body is worth savoring."
His words were like venom, mixed with extreme contempt and twisted desire. The mocking laughter from the female Dark Eldar onlookers grew louder. They watched with keen interest, as if enjoying an impending drama of the strong's rightful "conquest" over the weak.
Just as Vekich lowered his head again, attempting to forcibly kiss Laya's tightly pressed, stubbornly arched lips—
A look of fierce determination flashed in Laya's eyes! She no longer tried to push him away, but suddenly threw her head back, using all her strength, and bit down hard on Vekich's approaching, elegantly shaped ear!
"Ah—!!!"
A piercing scream instantly shattered the decadent atmosphere within the villa! Vekich never expected this human woman, who had always appeared submissive, to dare to resist, and to do so with such ferocity! Intense pain like an electric current shot through his entire body, making him instinctively release his grip on Laya's arms, covering his profusely bleeding ear as he staggered backward.
"You bitch!" Pain and fury instantly overwhelmed Vekich's reason! His handsome face twisted with agony and savagery, and terrifying killing intent erupted from his purple eyes! He was about to roar, preparing to "teach" this human hussy, who didn't know her place, a brutal lesson with the most cruel methods, to make her understand the consequences of angering a Dark Eldar—
Suddenly!
He felt a chill in his chest.
An unprecedented coldness, as if his soul had been instantly frozen, emanated from the very center of his chest.
Vekich instinctively looked down.
He saw the tip of a long sword, emanating a ghostly blue energy glow, ancient and majestic in form, which had, at some unknown moment, silently pierced his pale chest, emerging from the location of his heart! The flickering disintegration field on the blade emitted a faint "sizzling" sound, instantly reducing the flesh and clothing around his wound to their most basic particles!
He could even see the ghostly blue light reflecting his own distorted image, twisted by extreme horror.
Where did this sword... come from?
This thought had just arisen, and before he could fully comprehend it, the long sword piercing his body suddenly flicked upwards!
"Screech—!!!"
A teeth-grinding tearing sound erupted! Before the power sword's indestructible disintegration field, Vekich's body, enhanced by Dark Eldar technology, was as fragile as butter under a hot knife! His body was cleanly and neatly split in two, from chest to head, along the path of the blade!
The two halves of his mutilated body, bearing expressions of disbelief, fell to either side, internal organs and purple blood splattering onto the mirror-smooth floor, emitting a strong, metallic stench.
Until the very last moment of death, Vekich's gradually unfocused eyes still held immense confusion and shock—he never understood, even in death, how this fatal weapon had appeared.
As Vekich was instantly killed, the blood-stained long sword and its wielder, as if emerging from ripples in water, quickly shed their optical camouflage.
Gaius's tall, majestic figure, covered in deep blue power armour, like a Death God stepping out of the shadows, was fully revealed before all the stunned Dark Eldar! The humming power sword, "unyielding will," in his hand, its tip angled towards the ground, its ghostly blue disintegration field light intertwined with the purple blood staining the blade, exuded a soul-shivering aura of death.
His red ocular lenses, like two burning embers, coldly swept across the scene, taking in the instantly frozen expressions of horror on every Dark Eldar's face.
The slaughter began.
No warning, no declaration of war.
Gaius's figure moved! Like a tiger leaping into a flock of sheep, he pushed off the ground, which trembled slightly, transforming into a blue lightning bolt as he charged towards the nearest Dark Eldar male, who had just climbed out of the pool and was fumbling for a weapon!
"For the Emperor!" A low battle cry, metallic and filled with endless killing intent, came through his helmet's vox-caster.
The Dark Eldar male hadn't even fully raised his poison crystal rifle when Gaius's power sword, with a piercing whoosh, swept across!
A flash of ghostly blue light!
The Dark Eldar's upper and lower body instantly separated, the cut as smooth as a mirror. He didn't even have time to scream, the terror in his eyes completely frozen.
"It's the Astartes!!" Finally, a Dark Eldar reacted from the extreme shock, letting out a sharp alarm.
The villa hall instantly descended into chaos! The Dark Eldar, previously immersed in pleasure and arrogance, scattered like a disturbed beehive, frantically searching for weapons or attempting to escape in all directions, relying on their boasted speed.
However, just as this chaos began to rise—
"Boom!!!!!"
An even more violent, more earth-shattering roar came from the villa's magnificent amethyst main door!
The entire incredibly heavy, priceless door, as if struck head-on by a battering ram, instantly exploded inwards! Countless amethyst shards and twisted metal rained down into the hall like a storm!
Dorian's figure, like a Death God from mythology, crashed through the flying debris, entering this luxurious slaughterhouse with ground-shaking steps! His Saturnine terminator armour was covered in fragments of the door, and the menacing twin-linked storm Bolter on his right arm was already raised, its gaping muzzle like the pupil of Death, instantly locking onto the few quick-reacting Dark Eldar males in the hall who had already raised their xenos weapons, attempting to counterattack!
There was no expression on his face, only cold indifference, as if these panicked xenos before him were nothing more than trash to be cleared away.
The next moment, he pulled the trigger without hesitation!
"Bang bang bang bang bang—!!!"
The distinctive, muffled, continuous roar of the storm Bolter, like the flail of Death, instantly drowned out all screams and chaos! The immense recoil even made Dorian's massive body tremble slightly, but he stood as firm as if rooted to the ground.
Each Bolter round contained destructive power, accurately striking its target! Those Dark Eldar males attempting to counterattack, whether hiding behind pillars or trying to evade with their agile movements, proved utterly futile under such close-range, dense suppressing fire!
"Boom!" A Dark Eldar was hit directly in the chest by a Bolter round, his entire body instantly exploding into a cloud of blood mist!
"Crack!" Another tried to block with a psychic shield; the shield shattered like glass, and the subsequent Bolter rounds blasted him and the wall behind him into fragments!
"Splat!" Yet another, who had just leaped into the air, was struck by several Bolter rounds simultaneously, his body torn into pieces in mid-air, limbs and severed parts mixed with purple blood splattering everywhere!
In just a few seconds, all Dark Eldar males who had shown any intent to attack were reduced to Vague pools of blood and shattered armour plating under Dorian's merciless Bolter storm!
The smell of gunpowder and gore, mixed with the cloying sweetness of alien perfume, formed a strange and nauseating scent that permeated the entire hall.
The ensuing battle was more like a one-sided annihilation and purge.
Gaius moved like a phantom through the chaotic crowd. Each swing of his power sword inevitably brought a spray of purple blood and a fallen body. His movements were concise, efficient, devoid of any unnecessary flair. Every strike went straight for the vitals, tearing apart the Dark Eldar's boasted speed and agility in the face of absolute power and precise killing artistry.
Dorian, meanwhile, was like a mobile fortress, moving with heavy steps, hunting down the stragglers who tried to hide or escape like a cat toying with mice. For those who dared to bare their fangs, he either directly stomped them with his heavy Terminator boot, crushing them into a bloody pulp like an insect, or swung his massive power fist on his left arm, smashing them whole into the wall like a pile driver, leaving behind humanoid indentations and splattered blood.
Facing these two Death Angels, who had descended like divine warriors and were utterly invincible, the remaining Dark Eldar, especially the females, completely lost their courage to resist. They screamed, cried, dropped their weapons, and fell to their knees, desperately begging for mercy in broken gothic or frantic Aeldari.
"Don't kill me!"
"We surrender!"
Gaius and Dorian did not continue to kill the captives who had ceased resisting. Using the specialized restraint devices Luna had prepared, they quickly cuffed these terrified Dark Eldar females one by one, like livestock bound for slaughter. They would be one of the most powerful living evidences to be handed over to the Inquisition, proving the Planetary Governor's collusion with xenos.
The entire purging process, from Gaius's appearance to the subjugation of the last Dark Eldar, took no more than ten minutes.
The once luxurious and decadent villa hall had now become a chaotic killing ground. Broken furniture, splattered amethyst fragments, scattered purple blood and dismembered limbs, along with the bound and trembling Dark Eldar captives, formed a striking and impactful scene.
Gaius sheathed his power sword, and the hum of the disintegration field shutting off ceased. He walked over to Laya, who had been standing still, pale, and seemingly uncomfortable from witnessing such a bloody scene up close.
Laya looked at Vekich, split in two and gruesomely dead on the floor. A complex light flashed in her eyes, but she ultimately spat at the defilement, as if to expel all the humiliation and disgust she had endured.
"You did well, Laya," Gaius's voice came through his helmet, with a hint of affirmation. "Your courage and composure gained us a crucial advantage."
He glanced at the chaotic hall and continued, "Now, you have ten minutes. Go collect your personal items that you absolutely must take. In ten minutes, the Adeptus Mechanicus' Skitarii will arrive to take over the site and perform purification. At that time, we will leave immediately."
Laya looked up at Gaius's cold red optical lenses, then at Dorian, who looked like a fierce god, and the captured, once arrogant Dark Eldar.
She took a deep breath and nodded firmly.
She said nothing more, nor did she look at the mess and blood on the floor, but simply turned around, straightening her slender but at this moment remarkably resilient back.
Her iconic high heels once again tapped out a "thump-thump" sound in the silent hall, unhurried, yet carrying a resolve to bid farewell to the past, as she walked towards the spiral staircase leading upstairs.
Ten minutes.
This was her final farewell to the past Laya, the "canary."
When Laya, dragging a huge and seemingly incredibly heavy metal suitcase almost as tall as Dorian's terminator armour, hobbled down the spiral staircase, Gaius's brows, hidden beneath his helmet, involuntarily furrowed.
He looked at the box, large enough to fit half a tactical squad, and the light from his red optical lenses seemed to freeze for a moment.
"These..." Gaius's voice, through the speaker, had a pause of disbelief, "...are all your 'must-take' personal items? What's inside?"
Hearing this cold interrogation, Laya lowered her head somewhat awkwardly, her slender fingers entwined, and explained in an apologetic, whisper-thin voice, "...They're just... some clothes, shoes, bags... and jewelry, and some... gifts others gave me..."
Her voice grew softer and softer, as she clearly realized that, having just experienced a bloody purge and about to make a hasty retreat, carrying such a large and "non-essential" amount of luggage was indeed somewhat inappropriate.
Gaius was silent for a few seconds after hearing this.
He raised his armored hand and somewhat helplessly touched the laurel wreath decoration on the side of his helmet, symbolizing honor and duty.
Although he couldn't understand why a woman needed so many external possessions, his long military career and experience dealing with mortals told him that dwelling on such matters was a complete waste of time.
"Alright, stop, I understand." Gaius interrupted Laya's potential continued enumeration, his tone returning to its usual calm, "I will arrange for the Adeptus Mechanicus' servitors to help you transport this... box, back to our temporary residence."
He chose the most efficient way to handle it.
Laya, relieved, quickly whispered, "Thank you, Lord Angel."
Just then, outside the villa, came the sound of rhythmic, heavy footsteps and the hum of mechanical joints.
The Adeptus Mechanicus' Skitarii and the Adepta Sororitas teams, responsible for taking over the site and subsequent cleanup, had finally arrived.
Leading them was the Tech-Priest Archmagos who had previously been responsible for "interrogating" the Drukhari Assassin.
No emotion could be seen on his metal-skulled face; his compound optical lenses swept over the chaotic hall, filled with xenos corpses and captives, finally landing on Gaius.
And the few Sisters of Battle who entered with him, upon seeing the trembling Drukhari female captives, shackled by special restraint devices, must have had faces filled with shock and disbelief beneath their helmets.
For these daughters of the Emperor, who held purity and loyalty as their tenets, the discovery of so many xenos hidden deep within an Imperial Shrine World was undoubtedly a huge blow to their faith.
They gripped their Bolters or flamers tightly, knuckles white from the effort, their eyes burning with extreme hatred for the xenos and the urge to purify everything.
The Tech-Priest Archmagos ignored the blood on the floor and, escorted by two Sisters of Battle, walked directly to Gaius.
A rapid and cold binary language emanated from his vocalizer, translated by Gaius's helmet's built-in translator:
"Astartes Brother. The presence of a large number of xenos biological entities has been confirmed at the site.
Do you require the servants of the omnissiah, the Machine God, to assist you in further 'extracting' valuable information data from the mouths of these xenos?"
His tone was flat, as if asking whether a batch of parts needed routine inspection, but in his red-glowing bionic eyes, there was an almost instinctive "anticipation" for the "data extraction" process.
Gaius was about to reply that there was already sufficient evidence and no need to waste time on large-scale interrogation, but the Archmagos seemed to have already drawn his own "logical judgment" from his silence.
He did not wait for Gaius's explicit command, turning directly to the Tech-Priests and Skitarii behind him, and issued orders in his uninflected binary language:
"Logical determination: maximize intelligence acquisition efficiency. Execute command: pry open their mouths."
His command was concise, cold, and filled with an unquestionable authority.
As his words fell, several Tech-Priests immediately sprang into action, like precise machines, moving towards the bound Drukhari captives, whose eyes were filled with fear, preparing to begin a new round of "efficient" and utterly inhumane "data extraction" work.
Gaius watched this scene, a trace of helplessness flashing through his mind.
He knew the thought process of these Adeptus Mechanicus members; they pursued absolute efficiency and results, and the process was merely a means to an end in their eyes.
He opened his mouth, but ultimately did not speak to stop them.
Perhaps... some other clues about Planetary Governor Kage Gane or the Drukhari's hidden network could indeed be extracted from these captives.
After all, the Inquisition always wanted as much evidence as possible.
He turned his attention back to the practical matters and said to the Archmagos, "Archmagos, we need to transport this box," he pointed to Laya's huge suitcase, "back to our current temporary residence.
Additionally, when we evacuate this planet tomorrow, we will need your personnel to assist in moving it onto the ship."
The Archmagos' metal head rotated slightly, his optical lenses scanning the large box, and the red light flickered steadily, seemingly assessing its size and weight.
Immediately, a binary code indicating agreement was emitted:
"Request recorded and approved. Material transport is a reasonable logistical requirement. As you wish, Astartes Brother."
He waved a mechanical arm connected to precise tools, and a team of silent, heavily modified Adeptus Mechanicus servitors immediately stepped forward, mechanically and efficiently beginning to move the box that was too heavy for Laya.
As for the fate awaiting the Drukhari female captives, Gaius no longer intended to inquire.
That would be a matter for the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Inquisition, who would arrive later, to worry about.
When Gaius and Dorian, with Laya, returned to the temporary residence, following the team of servitors carrying the box, Luna was already waiting there, having just finished an encrypted communication with Captain Cassius.
"What were the Captain's instructions?" Gaius asked as he removed his helmet.
Dorian also curiously leaned closer.
Luna's expression was as calm as ever, but her tone carried the rigor of reporting work: "The Captain conveyed two things.
First, a Deathwatch Kill Team is expected to arrive in orbit above Drathemiandas in one standard hour.
They will assist us in taking further 'measures' against Planetary Governor Kage Gane and his potentially hidden forces."
Deathwatch!
Hearing this name, Gaius's and Dorian's eyes flickered slightly.
This was a special unit composed of elite veterans dispatched by various Astartes Chapters, specifically for hunting xenos; its members were all experts in dealing with xenos.
Their arrival meant that the reckoning for Governor Gaine was about to enter its final stage, and it also showed the importance the Chapter Master and the Inquisition placed on this matter.
"Second," Luna continued, her tone seeming to have a very subtle, almost helpless, fluctuation, "regarding Laya's placement.
The Captain has already registered and filed a report with the battleship's logistics department.
However..."
She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully: "The logistics department used this as a reason, according to relevant regulations, to deduct the Captain's entire food ration for next month, to 'subsidize' Laya's basic living material consumption after boarding the ship, because the application was initiated by the Captain.
At the end of the communication, the Captain's... tone seemed quite unhappy.
His exact words were: 'You are going to bring that girl onto the battleship, and after I just registered, those oil-stained bastards deducted another month of my food to supply that Laya.
Should I thank you?
Hm?'"
As Luna recounted the Captain's words, she even subconsciously mimicked Cassius's tone, which was filled with suppressed anger and heavy sarcasm.
Gaius: "..."
Dorian froze for a moment, then couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, but quickly stifled it under Gaius's glance, though his shoulders still subtly shook.
Gaius rubbed his brow, feeling a headache coming on.
He could imagine the Captain's expression when he heard the logistics department's cold and unfeeling decision.
The First Company Captain, already gloomy over nutrient paste issues, was now even worse off.
"It seems... after we return, we'll have to find a way to 'compensate' the Captain," Gaius sighed, saying helplessly.
Although it wasn't their intention, Laya was someone they decided to bring back, indirectly leading to the Captain's "food shortage."
Dorian grinned and said gruffly, "At worst... I'll share half of my nutrient paste with him? Though dogs wouldn't eat that stuff."
His "generous" offer earned him a glare from Gaius.
Sharing half of the pre-improved nutrient paste with the Captain? That would probably be murder, not compensation.
Just then, outside the mansion, came an engine sound different from the Adeptus Mechanicus' Skitarii, heavier and with a unique hum.
Luna walked to the window, glanced out, and turned back, saying, "It's the Deathwatch transport, they've arrived early."
Gaius's expression became serious, and he put his helmet back on.
"Let's go," his voice came through the speaker, regaining a warrior's calm and decisiveness, "to welcome our 'xenos expert' brethren.
It's time to have a final reckoning with that Governor hiding in the yellow house."
Dorian stretched his thick neck, making a cracking sound, and a eager, grim smile appeared on his face.
He had long disliked that fat pig of a Governor.
Laya watched the three Astartes, fully armored and ready, instinctively hugging her arms, a flicker of unease in her eyes, but more so a longing to escape this nightmare place.
The hour of reckoning was about to strike.
The deep rumble of an engine grew from a distance, unlike the rigid hum of the Adeptus Mechanicus Skitarii transport craft; this sound was heavier, carrying a sense of latent power. A black-painted assault craft, with sharp lines like a predator in the night sky, accurately landed on the open ground outside the temporary Governor's Mansion, the heat waves from its engine distorting the surrounding air.
The hatch slid open, and six tall, grim figures stepped out in sequence, their heavy power boots hitting the ground with a dull, unified thud, as if striking the drums of death.
They were uniformly clad in black power armour, the iconic livery of the Deathwatch, symbolizing their unwavering hatred for xenos and their mission of destruction. Their left shoulder pad had been replaced with a silver one, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen, intricately carved with Inquisitorial runes and the grim skull emblem of the Ordo Xenos, signifying their direct allegiance to that extremely xenophobic branch of the Inquisition. Their right shoulder pad, however, retained the colours and insignia of their respective Chapters, like an indelible mark of their origin and glory.
Gaius stepped forward, stopping before the warrior who was clearly the leader. He straightened his body and rendered a standard Astartes salute, his voice, amplified through his helmet, steady and strong:
"Ultramarines First Company, Sergeant Karl Horn. Thank you for coming to assist."
The leader returned the salute, striking his chest with a fist. His voice, transmitted through his helmet's vox-caster, was steady and hoarse, bearing the mark of countless battles fought to the death:
"Deathwatch, 2nd Kill Team Leader, Cainus." His gaze swept over the Ultramarines insignia on Gaius's shoulder pad, and he added, "I served with Brother Titus of your Chapter in the Deathwatch for a time."
Gaius, recognizing the distinctive black cross insignia on the leader's right shoulder pad, immediately identified him as coming from the Black Templars Chapter, known for their zealous faith and ceaseless crusades. He nodded and replied, "Lieutenant Titus has already returned to his Chapter and now serves as the 2nd Company's Lieutenant."
Without excessive pleasantries or small talk, Leader Cainus cut straight to the chase, his tone concise and efficient: "Sergeant, please inform us of the exact locations and known intelligence regarding the Genestealers' nest and the Eldar infiltrators."
Gaius clearly and accurately relayed all the information his squad had gathered to Leader Cainus, including the Genestealers' activity areas in the underhive, potential nest entrances, the Dark Eldar hiding spots in the mid and upper levels mentioned in Laya's confession, and their suspected collusion with Planetary Governor Gael.
Finally, he specifically emphasized: "Leader, regarding the upper levels, especially the Governor's Mansion, please do not take direct action for now. We need to ensure the Imperium's tithe can be smoothly paid; this is the primary objective. Avoid alerting them before the tithe is safely transferred."
Leader Cainus's black-helmeted head nodded slightly, indicating understanding. Imperial tithes were the lifeblood that kept the war machine running, and their priority was even above the eradication of xenos—a principle all Astartes understood.
"Understood. Prioritize dealing with the Genestealers in the underhive; their presence poses the greatest threat to the stability of the Hive City's structure," Leader Cainus said in a deep voice. "Tomorrow, we will assist you in clearing out those Eldar lurking in the shadows."
Having said that, he turned and gestured to the five members behind him. The team immediately began a final check of their weapons and equipment, their movements skilled and swift, and a chilling killing intent silently permeated the air.
Taking advantage of this pause, Gaius's gaze quickly swept over these five Deathwatch veterans who were about to delve into the underhive to confront the Genestealers' threat.
One warrior, particularly burly and robust, with a wolf head insignia painted on his right shoulder pad, hailed from the Space Wolves Chapter. He carried a massive chainaxe on his shoulder, its blade covered in savage teeth, and in his other hand, a heavy maul, clearly a "Protector" specializing in close-quarters crushing.
Another warrior had the iconic, all-consuming shark mouth insignia of the Carcharodons Chapter on his right shoulder pad. His power armour arms were fitted with additional, gleaming power claws, making him look like a bestial, humanoid predator. This was a ruthless "head-taker."
The third warrior, from the Flesh Tearers Chapter, known for its frenzied close-combat style. He wielded a short-handled but incredibly powerful Thunder Hammer in each hand, unstable energy arcs crackling around the hammerheads, a pure "crusher."
The fourth warrior hailed from the Dark Angels Chapter, known for its discipline and secrecy. His posture was elegant and deadly, a power sword of ancient design hanging at his waist. Although he had no additional title, his steady demeanor undoubtedly marked him as a highly skilled "master swordsman."
The last one, standing slightly behind Leader Cainus, had the Salamanders Chapter's molten dragon insignia painted on his right shoulder pad. He held a heavy flamer, and the fuel tank on his back was particularly conspicuous, clearly a "beast slayer" specializing in purging nests and dense enemy formations.
These five kill specialists, from different Chapters and with different expertise, along with the experienced Black Templars Leader Cainus, formed a deadly force capable of tearing apart any xenos nest. They swiftly and silently completed their equipment check, their eyes filled only with focus on the mission and cold killing intent towards the xenos.
"Move out." Leader Cainus commanded, without any superfluous rallying. The five members, like black arrows, swiftly boarded the assault craft. The engine roared again, and the black assault craft lifted off, speeding towards the dark, polluted depths of the Hive City's underhive, directly targeting the Genestealers and their cults lurking in the shadows, vowing to utterly crush and purge them.
After the Deathwatch kill team departed, the area outside the Governor's Mansion returned to a temporary quiet, with only the distant hum of machinery and the ceaseless clamour from the underhive.
Gaius and Luna, who had been standing quietly beside him, turned and re-entered the Governor's Mansion. The heavy metal door closed behind them, cutting off the outside sounds.
Gaius first went to the communicator and connected with Kolesa for their daily routine communication. After simply reporting that they were safe, confirming Eiras's condition, and informing them that they expected to complete the mission and return to the battleship tomorrow, he ended the call. Kolesa's gentle voice, like a clear spring, briefly washed away the fatigue brought on by days of tension and killing.
After the communication, Gaius felt a deep sense of fatigue in his body inside the power armour. Continuous high mental tension, even for an Astartes Brother, was draining. He needed to remove this heavy armour and allow his body a brief rest.
"Luna, help me remove my power armour," Gaius said to Luna, who was busy in a corner of the room.
Luna was kneeling by the sofa, carefully changing the dressing for a figure. Hearing Gaius's words, she replied without looking up, her voice as calm as ever: "One moment, Sergeant. I am changing her dressing."
Gaius's gaze followed to the sofa. Huddled there was the Drukhari Assassin who had been "interrogated" by the Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus. At this moment, the specialized restraints on her had been removed, yet she showed no desire to attack or escape.
She was curled tightly in the corner of the sofa like an overly frightened young animal, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on her clasped knees, her entire body shrunk into a small ball. Luna was disinfecting and applying healing gel to the minor wounds between her legs, her movements precise and gentle.
However, even Luna's careful touch still caused the assassin's body to tremble uncontrollably. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor in front of her, without any focus. Her eyes, once sharp as poisoned daggers, filled with defiance and hatred, now held only a bottomless fear, as if her very soul had been drained.
Gaius watched this scene quietly, his brows slightly furrowed. He remembered clearly how arrogant and fierce this Dark Eldar Assassin had been not long ago; even under Dorian's hours of mental taunting, she could still retaliate with venomous glares and Eldar curses.
But now...
He had also carefully checked before; on the assassin's pale, delicate skin, there were no visible wounds, bruises, or scars from torture.
The Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus seemed to have used a method he couldn't comprehend, completely destroying the will of this once resilient and dangerous xenos assassin without leaving any physical traces.
Just thinking about those Tech-Priests, who usually chattered in incomprehensible binary and revolved around machines and data, possessing such... eerie and terrifying methods, a shiver ran involuntarily down Gaius's spine, as if the surrounding air instantly grew several degrees colder.
Those 'scholars' hidden beneath red robes, made of metal and circuits, their understanding and manipulation of life, pain, and will were far more chilling than the direct clash of blades on a battlefield.
Luna finished dressing the assassin's wound, packed up her medical kit, stood up, and walked towards Gaius, her blessed arm skillfully unfastening the buckles and connecting wires of his power armour.
Heavy armour components were removed one by one and placed on the nearby stand.
Gaius stretched his somewhat stiff shoulders and neck, feeling a long-lost sense of ease.
His gaze, however, still involuntarily flickered towards the silent prisoner on the sofa, who was still trembling slightly.
Silent fear, at times, can demonstrate the terror of the perpetrator more effectively than frantic screams.
And all of this was merely for 'data extraction'.
Gaius took a deep breath, temporarily pushing down the thoughts about the Adeptus Mechanicus' methods.
He needed rest, for the potential final confrontation with the Planetary Governor tomorrow, and the perhaps even more intense battle that would follow.
Planetary Governor's Mansion, Golden Drawing Room.
There was no longer decadent music, no more alluring dancers, and the air was no longer filled with sweet incense, but rather a thick, unyielding, cloying scent of rust, gunpowder, and congealed blood.
The luxurious crystal chandeliers still emitted brilliant light, but this light, cast into the drawing room, revealed a sight that made one's soul tremble.
Governor Gael's corpulent and bloated body was still deeply ensconced in the warm jade throne.
However, at this moment, he was a completely different person from the vulgar ruler who indulged in pleasure on a daily basis.
His eyes were blood-red, with no distinction between the whites and pupils, like two abysses filled with boiling blood.
Light shone from behind him, casting a shadow on the mirror-smooth floor that was no longer a bloated human form, but a tall, robust figure clad in power armour adorned with spikes and skulls, with the characteristic upward-pointing ornament on its helmet—a perfectly clear silhouette of a World Eaters Legion warrior!
And below the throne, where dancers once gracefully moved, now stood two rows of figures.
They were no longer human, but Chaos Astartes clad in blood-red power armour!
Their armour was embellished with blasphemous golden patterns, covered in ferocious spikes and hooks, and the roaring bloodhound emblem on their shoulder pads reflected an evil gleam in the light.
They all knelt on one knee, heads bowed, their faces, covered by horned helmets or grotesque masks, showing only absolute obedience to the being on the throne and a fervent desire for slaughter.
A potent aura of the blood god emanated from these World Eaters warriors like a tangible force field, oppressing the entire space.
'Gaine,' seated on the throne, slowly raised his blood-red eyes, scanning the loyal slayers below.
When he spoke, it was no longer Gaine's voice, hoarse from debauchery, but a terrifying sound as if a million souls were roaring simultaneously on a battlefield of blood and fire, blended into one.
The voice was deep, grand, carrying the will to crush everything and an endless, pure killing intent; each syllable seemed capable of shattering mortal eardrums and freezing the souls of Astartes—it was the manifestation of the blood god Khorne's own will, whispering through this mortal vessel in the real universe.
'The time... has come...'
The terrifying voice echoed in the Golden Drawing Room, making the crystal chandeliers tremble slightly.
'Bring... the Chosen of the Gods... before me...'
'Tomorrow...'
His words were broken, yet carried an undeniable finality, each word seemingly stained with endless blood and skulls.
The objective was clear—Dorian, the warrior he had chosen, whose heart harbored endless savagery and potential for slaughter, must be brought tomorrow to this place, which had already become a temporary altar for Khorne, to complete his ultimate 'ascension'... or rather, sacrifice.
Having issued this final command, 'Gaine'—or rather, the will of Khorne occupying his body—slowly, and with extreme stiffness, twisted his corpulent neck to look at the 'servant' who had stood like a shadow beside the throne all along.
On the servant's face, there was now a fake smile, full of triumph and twisted satisfaction, utterly contrary to his humble posture.
The smile was so eerie, as if a meticulously designed trap was finally about to close.
And in the brilliant light, his shadow cast on the ground was still the distorted, grotesque outline of a terrifying demon with a two-headed, long neck, silently writhing and exuding Tzeentch's characteristic aura of trickery and lies.
It was this lurking Lord of Change who, through foresight and the weaving of fate, and perfect conspiracy and coincidence, had guided Dorian's squad here and provided the crucial 'opportunity' for Khorne's descent.
The powers of two mutually hostile Chaos Gods were now, within this opulent mansion, engaged in a brief and dangerous 'cooperation' for a common goal.
Just then, in the dense darkness behind the throne, not directly illuminated by the light, an even larger, more unsettling figure slowly revealed part of its outline.
It was a demonic entity far exceeding the size of a normal Astartes, even taller and more massive than a Terminator.
Its body was covered in dark red, heavy armour plating, as if made of congealed blood and hot metal, its muscles bulging like twisted mountains.
Its eyes burned with a crimson glow like molten lava, filled with the most primal desire for destruction.
Most horrifyingly, its head was densely embedded, or rather, grew with countless twisted, constantly rotating and vibrating metal spikes—these were the butcher's nails, one of the World Eaters Legion's symbols, representing eternal pain and the urge to slaughter!
And on its broad, scarred back, a pair of huge, fleshy wings made of bones and decaying membrane were slightly folded, as if ready to unfurl at any moment, bringing a storm of destruction.
It only revealed part of its form, and its terrifying pressure was almost enough to solidify the air, making the kneeling World Eaters emit even more fervent growls.
'Gaine's blood-red eyes glanced at this powerful demon, and then, with a somewhat impatient wave of his corpulent arm, he commanded in that terrifying, mixed voice:
'Withdraw...'
The lava-like light in the demon's eyes flickered, seemingly showing a slight dissatisfaction at not being able to immediately plunge into slaughter, but it still obeyed the command, which contained the will of the blood god.
Its massive body slowly moved backward, re-merging into the deep darkness behind the throne, as if it had never appeared, leaving only the suffocating aura of brutality still lingering in the air.
Inside the Golden Drawing Room, only 'Gaine' on the throne, the World Eaters warriors standing at attention below, and the 'servant' with the eerie fake smile on his face remained.
The stage for slaughter was set.
The blood god's offering was chosen.
Only awaiting tomorrow, at dawn, this 'ascension' ritual targeting Dorian, co-directed by the Chaos Gods, would dramatically unfold at the pinnacle of this opulent Hive City.
Meanwhile, Gaius's squad and the Deathwatch, unaware of all this, were still busy clearing out Genestealers and Dark Eldar.
The threads of fate were quietly tightening, pulling everyone towards that destined end of blood and madness.
Under the cover of night, Drathemiandas' Hive City's upper levels offered a rare breath of fresh air. On the expansive balcony of Laya's luxurious villa, four individuals were enjoying this moment of tranquility.
The balcony was exceptionally spacious, with exquisitely carved stone railings at its edge and expensive, mirror-smooth stone underfoot. Several comfortable velvet recliners were arranged on it.
The night sky wasn't completely dark; five beautiful satellites of varying sizes and colors, like scattered pearls, were embedded in the velvet-like night, casting a soft and dreamlike glow. This was a unique sight on Drathemiandas, and a rare beauty in this polluted world.
Gaius and Luna sat side-by-side on a recliner, both having removed their power armour and wearing only their basic combat suits. Gaius's gaze was calm as he looked at the distant satellites, seemingly contemplating tomorrow's actions. Luna, as always, was quiet, occasionally adjusting the datapad on her arm.
Beside them, Dorian and Laya sat on another, larger recliner. Dorian's massive physique almost occupied two-thirds of the recliner, while Laya sat somewhat cautiously on the edge, her hands on her knees, still showing a hint of fragility from her recent fright.
Dorian, with his characteristic loud voice, broke the night's silence, attempting to 'comfort' Laya in his own unique way, though it sounded more like he was scaring her.
"Since you'll be returning to the Macragge's Honour with us tomorrow, we'll be family from now on!" Dorian patted his sturdy chest, producing a dull thud. "Sigh, but I'm telling you, you pampered canary, you'll definitely not be used to life on a warship!"
He began to enumerate with his thick fingers: "First, it's cramped! Can't compare to your big villa. Everywhere are cold metal pipes and humming machines! Second, it's noisy! Engine sounds, alarms, shouts from the training grounds—never a moment's peace! And most importantly—the food!"
Dorian made an exaggerated face, as if he had eaten something disgusting: "That nutrient paste, I'm telling you, even dogs would shake their heads at it! It's a sticky blob, and the taste...tsk tsk, anyway, the first time I ate it, I almost threw up my bile! Someone like you, used to delicacies, definitely won't be able to swallow a single bite!"
As Laya listened to Dorian's description, her face grew paler and paler, and the glimmer of hope for the future that had just appeared in her eyes was replaced by fear. She subconsciously hugged her arms tightly.
"Dorian," Luna calmly interrupted him, her voice carrying through the night air with the characteristic composure of a Tech-Sergeant, "Stop scaring her. While what you say is true, overly exaggerated descriptions will only increase unnecessary fear."
She turned to Laya, her tone softening slightly, carrying an almost cruel rationality: "I can understand your feelings, Laya. Leaving a familiar environment for a completely unknown and harsh place. However, you must clearly realize that if you stay here, there is only one path: death."
Luna's gaze swept over the brightly lit Hive City below the balcony, which, despite its lights, concealed countless filth and betrayals: "Tomorrow morning, at the latest by noon, a joint fleet from the Ordo Xenos and the Ordo Hereticus will arrive in Drathemiandas' orbit. At that time, the entire management of the Drathemiandas industrial world, from Planetary Governor Kage Gane down to all mid-to-high-level officials who had close contact with him, or were merely suspected of knowing but not reporting..."
She paused, letting the weight of her words fully sink in: "...will all be branded with the titles of 'traitor' and 'xenos collaborator.' You should be familiar with the Inquisition's modus operandi—better to kill a thousand innocents than let one guilty person escape. What awaits them will be the most thorough scrutiny, the cruelest punishments, and... ultimate purification. You, as Governor Gael's personal secretary, will absolutely not be spared."
Upon hearing this, Laya's mind seemed to conjure images of the terrifying black ships of the Inquisition, of the cold-eyed Inquisitors holding instruments of torture, of former colleagues wailing in flames... A tremendous fear seized her again. She couldn't help but lower her head, covering her face with her slender fingers, letting out suppressed, quiet sobs, her shoulders slightly trembling.
Dorian looked at Laya, who had started crying again, a hint of impatience on his rough face, but more so a vexation of not knowing what to do. He scratched his short, hedgehog-like hair, and with a shift in thought, tried a different approach to 'comfort' her.
"Hey, don't cry, don't cry!" Dorian said in what he thought was a gentle voice. "You're so smart, able to get along with that fat pig Gaine, and you know how to assess the situation and cooperate with us—that shows you're clever! Once you're on the warship, maybe you'll be assigned to some department, like being a secretary to the captain of a Strike Cruiser! That's easy work, and you get to travel with the warship, see different star systems—isn't that better than being stuck in this wretched place?"
He seemed to think his idea was brilliant and added, "Oh, right! When you first get to the warship, remember to stay far away from the guy with a horizontal coronal plume on his helmet!" He pointed to the non-existent horizontal plume on his own helmet. "That guy is our Captain Cassius! Because of your matter, those oil-stained logistics guys just docked him another month's food rations! That adds up to a full four months now! He's definitely seething with anger and finds everyone annoying. If you go near him now, you're just asking for trouble!"
Gaius, hearing this, shook his head helplessly and reminded him, "Dorian, stop badmouthing the Captain behind his back. Be careful what you say. Maybe tomorrow, as soon as we return to the warship, you'll have the pleasure of revisiting the brig."
Dorian paid no mind to Gaius's warning; instead, he felt he had found the 'root cause' and 'solution' to the problem. He gently patted Laya's back, almost making her stumble, then said in a tone as if he had discovered a universal truth:
"If you ask me, the Captain's temper isn't some damn gene flaw!" He confidently analyzed. "It's definitely because he's been on the warship for hundreds of years, dealing with rough Astartes like us all day, and those Tech-Priests who speak binary and smell of oil—he hasn't seen a woman! He's all pent up, which leads to endocrine imbalance, and his temper explodes at the slightest provocation!"
His gaze fell on Laya's delicate profile, which, even while crying, couldn't hide its beauty, and her golden hair, which appeared particularly soft in the moonlight. A 'brilliant' idea was born: "Look at you, so pretty, good figure, and you know how to serve people... If you ask me, forget being a secretary! Just become the Captain's wife!"
The more Dorian spoke, the more he thought his idea was genius, gesticulating excitedly: "If the Captain had such a beautiful wife like you, he'd surely be in a great mood! Maybe he'd be so happy, he'd even find me pleasing to look at, and promote me to Sergeant, or make me a Terminator squad leader or something... Hehe, then I'll treat you to... uh, even though nutrient paste is awful, I can give you my share!"
Laya, who had been quietly sobbing, instantly stopped crying upon hearing Dorian's shocking 'arrangement.' She abruptly lifted her head, her face drained of color, filled with terror and disbelief. She was still very young; though uncertain about the future, she absolutely did not want to inexplicably become the wife of an Astartes Brother who was hundreds of years old, had a violent temper, and was reportedly currently starving! Especially since she couldn't even imagine such... a life.
While Dorian was still gloating over his 'matchmaking,' even beginning to fantasize about his bright future after promotion, Luna, sitting opposite him, had silently operated the datapad on her arm. With an impassive face, she brought up the recording function and meticulously recorded Dorian's recent grand pronouncements about the Captain's 'endocrine imbalance,' 'never having seen a woman,' and 'becoming the Captain's wife,' word for word.
Then, her fingertips quickly slid across the datapad a few times, finding Captain Cassius's encrypted communication channel, and without hesitation, she directly sent the audio file, along with a close-up photo of Dorian's grinning, foolish face (which she had taken incidentally).
The entire operation flowed smoothly, as calmly as if she were merely submitting a routine equipment maintenance report.
A brief silence fell over the balcony, broken only by the faint noises from the lower levels of the distant Hive City and Laya's slightly hurried breathing due to fright. Dorian, completely oblivious, continued to babble, 'comforting' Laya: "...Although the Captain has a bit of a violent temper, he's not handsome, and he's very old, I think over five hundred years old... But don't worry, we Astartes Brothers are in good health, definitely..."
He hadn't finished speaking when—
"Buzz..."
Luna's datapad suddenly vibrated and chimed with an urgent notification, indicating a top-priority incoming message.
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on the datapad.
Luna calmly picked up the datapad and glanced at the source of the message displayed on the screen—Sender: Cassius Venus, first company captain. Message Level: Highest Urgency.
There was no surprise on her face; she simply handed the datapad to Gaius.
Gaius took the datapad, his gaze falling on the brief text on the screen, which seemed to contain endless thunderous rage. The message was extremely short, without even a salutation or closing, just a single line of cold, direct, and murderous command:
To Sergeant Sanx Gaius:
Execute battlefield orders immediately
Execute Dorian on the spot
—Cassius Venus
Gaius looked at the words, silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand and wearily rubbed his brow, letting out a long sigh filled with helplessness.
Dorian, still unaware of this 'execution order' from the Captain, which directly concerned his life, saw Gaius and Luna's strange expressions and curiously leaned over, asking casually, "What's wrong? Did the Captain send more instructions? Is he praising us for completing the mission beautifully?"
His loud voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet night, full of optimism.
The night breeze on the balcony carried a hint of coolness, dispelling the awkwardness and... the deadly peril brought by Dorian's 'shocking' remarks. Gaius silently closed the enraged 'execution order' from the Captain on the datapad without making a fuss. He understood Captain Cassius; this order was more a fit of extreme anger than a genuine battlefield command—at least not yet. But if Dorian continued to be so unrestrained with his words, there was no guarantee that one day the Captain wouldn't actually shove him into a cannon barrel and launch him.
"Dorian," Gaius's voice carried an undeniable seriousness, "Shut up. Say one more word about the Captain's private life or... any topic that shouldn't be discussed, and when we get back, I'll personally supervise you in completing a month of continuous Arena defense."
Dorian opened his mouth, but seeing Gaius's icy gaze, he ultimately swallowed his words, crossed his arms sullenly, looked up at the sky, and muttered something silently.
The atmosphere was momentarily stagnant. Laya was still immersed in the terrifying fantasy of being an Astartes's wife, her small face pale. Gaius sighed and proactively steered the conversation towards a relatively lighter topic, beginning to introduce Laya to some basic information about the Macragge's Honour, such as the functions of its main areas, the location of the Scribe Sisters and departments handling mortal affairs, and some rules and etiquette to be aware of. He tried to describe everything in a calm tone, avoiding Dorian's usual intimidating manner.
Laya listened intently, occasionally asking one or two questions in a low voice, her nervous emotions gradually easing. She knew this was her unavoidable future, and the more she understood, the greater her chances of survival. Under the moonlight, she looked at Gaius's steady profile, and her heart inexplicably settled a few points. This calm and powerful Sergeant seemed far more reliable than the outspoken brute beside him.
At the same time, in the bottomless, filthy lower levels of the Hive City, the Deathwatch's Second Kill Team's purification operation was in full swing. There was no moonlight here, only flickering, faulty light tubes and thick smoke from burning fires providing weak illumination.
The distinctive sounds of Genestealers, a mix of roars and psychic screams, echoed through the narrow, complex pipes and abandoned factories. The Kill Team members, like black reapers, efficiently harvested lives in the darkness.
The Space Wolves' Protector wielded his chainaxe and maul, smashing and tearing apart any Genestealers that dared to approach, his battle cry even overpowering the aliens' shrieks. The Carcharodons' head-taker moved like a phantom, each swing of his power claws precisely tearing open an alien's throat or chest. The Flesh Tearers' 'Crusher' (untranslated in glossary, using literal) swung his twin hammers wildly, thunderous arcs of energy incinerating hordes of lesser hybrids into charcoal. The Dark Angels' 'Sword Master' (untranslated in glossary, using literal) moved like an elegant dancer, each thrust of his longsword piercing an alien's skull or heart. The Salamanders' 'Beast Slayer' (untranslated in glossary, using literal) brought up the rear, his heavy flamer spewing scorching dragon's breath, turning enemies hiding in corners and attempting to ambush from above into rolling fireballs.
Captain Cainus, the Black Templar warrior, acted as the tactical core, providing precise Bolter fire in all directions while calmly directing the team's advance. They moved like a precise killing machine, grinding their way step by step towards the core area of the Genestealer Cult.
The battle lasted for several hours, the air thick with the smell of burning and the alien's purple blood. Finally, in a wide space resembling an abandoned prayer hall, they found the main objective of this operation—the hunched, abnormally large-headed Genestealer Cult Patriarch, radiating strong psychic fluctuations.
After an intense clash, Captain Cainus personally charged forward, parrying the Patriarch's psychically glowing claws with his battle-hardened power sword. Then, the Carcharodons' head-taker lunged like lightning, his terrifying power claws suddenly clamping down on the Patriarch's wrinkled, massive head!
"Crunch!"
A bone-chilling sound of bone shattering rang out. Accompanied by an extremely sharp psychic shriek, the head-taker forcibly twisted the deformed head from its body! Purple, viscous blood gushed from the severed neck like a fountain.
The death of the Cult Patriarch, like severing a core link, instantly plunged the remaining Genestealers and hybrids into greater chaos, and they were quickly cleaned up by the Kill Team.
Captain Cainus looked at the alien head held in the head-taker's hand and nodded indifferently. The greatest threat in the underhive was temporarily neutralized.
In a distant star system, aboard the nightfall battleship, in a secret room temporarily modified and filled with various life support systems and anti-psychic force field generators.
Lion King, was standing before a medical bed, his brows tightly furrowed. Konrad Curze lay on it, his face still pale, but much more stable than his previous appearance of being on the verge of collapse. Lion King had utilized all the medical resources and technology he could muster, even expending his own precious Primarch blood, to barely suppress the Nurgle plague left by Mortarion, which was constantly eroding him like a living thing.
Despite the difficult process, Curze's condition was indeed improving. What shocked Lion King even more was that during the treatment, he personally witnessed the "trophies" Curze showed him—a severed, still reeking of potent plague and chaotic energy, rotten arm belonging to the Daemon Primarch Mortarion, his iconic, death-imbued giant scythe, and three gas-mask-wearing heads belonging to Mortarion's personal guards, the Deathshroud Terminators.
These pieces of evidence were weighty and real. They silently spoke of a brutal battle between Curze and Mortarion that was by no means an act.
Lion King's granite-like resolute heart, for the first time, began to truly re-examine the Eighth Legion, and his mad and fanatical brother, beyond the ten thousand years of accumulated resentment. Perhaps... Konrad Curze's insane ramblings about "atonement" were not entirely lies? Perhaps, this Legion walking in the shadows could truly find their sole reason for existence on the Imperium's darkest battlefields?
The Lion King remained silent, his attitude subtly undergoing a shift that he himself had not yet fully recognized.
In orbit around Drathemiandas, a formidable fleet had gathered, like storm clouds looming overhead. The Ordo Xenos' black warships, adorned with alien skull insignia, stood side-by-side with the Ordo Hereticus' crimson vessels, emblazoned with the burning Aquila, surrounded by a vast escort fleet of the Imperial Navy. They hung silently in the void, their cold muzzles aimed at the industrial world below, like Executioners about to carry out a death sentence, waiting only for the final moment to arrive, when they would descend and carry out a thorough, bloody purge of this "fallen" world.
Hive City's top level, Planetary Governor's Mansion, Golden Parlor.
The first rays of artificial dawn had not yet fully dispelled the chill of the night, but the atmosphere within the mansion was already starkly different.
Planetary Governor Kage Gane lay slumped on the carpet before his warm jade throne, his corpulent body trembling violently like a sieve, his expensive silk robe soaked with cold sweat. The color had drained from his face, and his eyes were filled with extreme fear and bewilderment, as if he had just awoken from an incredibly long and terrifying nightmare.
"I... what happened to me? What... what happened?" He mumbled incoherently, looking at the not-yet-fully-cleaned non-human purple bloodstains and strange scorch marks on the parlor floor, and the sickeningly sweet, lingering smell in the air.
And before him, the World Eaters warriors who had previously stood at attention, now looked down upon him with cold, merciless eyes. Their gaze was not like that of collaborators, but rather like that of a tool that had lost its usefulness and was about to be discarded.
The "servant" who had always stood by, now had his humble fake smile completely gone, replaced by a twisted expression mixed with triumph, glee, and the satisfaction of a successful scheme. Deep within his originally ordinary eyes, a subtle, phosphorescent blue glow, belonging to a Tzeentchian Daemon, flickered.
It was this entity that exploited Gaine's guilt and fear stemming from his collusion with xenos, allowing the whispers of Chaos to subtly corrupt and then conceal his mind. Subsequently, it used a certain trick to intercept and alter the mission orders issued by Chapter Master Marius Calgar, changing the recipient from the original Seventh Company Captain to Captain Cassius. It was this altered order that, by a strange twist of fate, delivered Dorian, who harbored the potential of a Khorne Chosen, to this stage meticulously arranged by the Daemon, to the long-awaited will of the blood god!
And now, all the groundwork was laid. The will of the blood god had already descended and left its mark, Khorne's Chosen was in place, and the sacrifices and witnesses were about to enter the Arena.
It had no concerns about the unfolding situation. Because, in the deepest shadows of this Golden Parlor, beyond the reach of its brilliant lights, behind the throne, a suffocatingly massive figure stood silently.
Its eyes burned with pure crimson fury, the dense butcher's nails implanted in its head constantly vibrated, emitting a maddening hum, and the pair of huge, fleshy wings made of bone and tattered skin on its back were slightly folded. The terrifying, overwhelming pressure filled the entire space as if it were a tangible entity.
That was none other than the Daemon Primarch, Angron, who had completely lost his sanity, utterly dominated by the butcher's nails and the blood god's wrath!
Inside and outside the mansion, a net had already been cast. World Eaters warriors corrupted by Chaos, and some summoned Bloodthirsters and Bloodletters, were hidden in every corner of the building, awaiting their prey to step into this final hunting ground.
The artificial sunlight of early morning finally fully illuminated the top level of the Hive City. Gaius, Dorian, and Luna were all clad in power armour, fully armed. Joining them was the Deathwatch Second Kill Team, who had fought all night, their armour stained with Genestealers' purple blood and the marks of gunpowder, but their eyes still exhilarated and their killing intent undiminished.
"The tithe collection procedure is about to begin," Gaius said to Captain Cainus, "Once the safe transfer of the tithe is confirmed, we will signal, and the Inquisition's fleet will immediately descend. Before then, we need to ensure the 'stability' of the upper level, especially the Governor's Mansion area."
Captain Cainus nodded, his face, covered by a black helmet, showed no expression, but his voice was steady: "Understood. Prioritize securing the Imperial tithe. Then... clean up the trash."
The two squads, a total of nine Astartes Brothers, marched with firm and heavy steps, leaving their temporary quarters and heading towards the most luxurious and magnificent Governor's Mansion at the very top of the Hive City.
The morning light fell upon their deep blue and jet-black power armour, reflecting a cold gleam. They did not know that what awaited them was not a simple oversight and handover, but a deep abyss trap woven by the Chaos Gods, filled with blood and madness.
They were walking, step by step, unswervingly, towards the final stage meticulously set for them.
The large elevator leading to the top floor of the Hive City ascended steadily with a dull roar, the sound of metal cables rubbing echoing in the enclosed cabin.
Gaius leaned against the cold cabin wall, his armored fingers unconsciously tapping his leg plate.
An unspeakable sense of unease, like a subtle electric current, coursed through his nerve endings, honed by countless brutal battles.
It was too quiet.
Not in terms of sound; the elevator's noise persisted.
But a "quiet" in the atmosphere, like the suffocating, brief silence before a storm, when all things hold their breath.
His keen gaze swept over the others in the cabin—Brother Deklan, who was checking his Bolter magazine, and Tech-Sergeant Luna, who stood quietly, her data-slate displaying self-diagnostic information and various parameters.
On the other side, the Deathwatch Kill Team members were also making their final pre-battle preparations; Captain Cainus wiped his power sword, which had drunk deeply of xenos blood; the Space Wolves' Protector flexed his thick neck; and the Carcharodons' head-taker's power-claw-equipped arms slightly opened and closed, emitting a faint hydraulic hiss.
Everything seemed normal, yet everything felt off.
"Luna," Gaius's voice broke the silence through the internal comms channel, "How are the rendezvous transport arrangements coming along?"
Luna didn't look up, her fingers rapidly sliding across the data-slate: "Confirmed. The transport will be in position within five minutes of our arrival at the top floor, prioritizing Laya for boarding and ascent to a safe altitude to await further orders. Based on current assessment, the probability of conflict with the Governor's Mansion has risen to sixty-seven percent."
Gaius nodded; Luna's arrangements were always so thorough. Getting Laya, the key witness, out early was a wise move.
But the unease in his heart did not dissipate; instead, it spread slowly like ink dropped into clear water.
An hour later, the elevator reached the top floor.
The cabin door slid open, revealing a stark contrast to the opulence outside.
Wide streets were paved with polished white stone, flanked by elegant, brightly lit mansions, and the air was filled with expensive perfumes, a world away from the foul, oppressive lower and middle levels.
Some well-dressed nobles or their servants cast curious, reverent, or subtly uneasy glances.
But the Astartes Brothers of the two squads ignored them, marching with steady, unified, heavy steps, like nine moving statues of steel, ignoring all distractions, heading directly towards the grandest and most luxurious Planetary Governor's Mansion in that area.
The closer they got to the magnificent building, the stronger Gaius's alarm grew.
His combat intuition, honed by countless life-and-death struggles and forged in seas of blood and corpses, hummed with increasing urgency, like a plucked string.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Was it an ambush by the Dark Eldar who had escaped? Or had Governor Gaine, cornered, set other traps?
His gaze, like a hawk's, swept over the shadows on both sides of the street, the tall columns, and the elaborately decorated walls of the mansion, trying to find any potential threat.
However, as far as the eye could see, there was only peace, with only their heavy footsteps echoing in the empty street.
"Complete the mission, the tithe is paramount, leave the rest to the Inquisition."
Gaius muttered to himself, forcefully suppressing the growing unease.
He prayed that this was just an illusion caused by the excessive vigilance brought on by days of tense missions.
Finally, they arrived at the majestic, gold and jewel-encrusted gate of the Governor's Mansion.
To their surprise, it was equally silent.
The guards who should have been at the gate, the butler waiting to greet them, the servitors bustling about... all were gone.
The entire mansion seemed to have become an empty, lavish tomb, permeated by an eerie stillness.
Brother Deklan stepped forward; his Saturnine terminator armour granted him unparalleled strength.
He didn't even look for the opening mechanism, directly extending his armored giant hand, pressing it against the heavy door, and pushing with all his might!
"Boom!"
With a dull thud, the priceless gate was forcibly pushed open by him, slamming against the inner wall, producing a huge echo.
The sight inside the door instantly stunned all the battle-hardened Astartes.
The Golden Salon was still resplendent, the crystal chandeliers emitting dazzling light.
However, in the center of the salon, on the carpet in front of the warm jade throne, the plump and bloated body of Planetary Governor Kage Gane lay dismembered!
Limbs and severed body parts were scattered everywhere, scarlet blood mixed with yellow fat, soaking the expensive carpet, and the heavy smell of blood assaulted their senses.
His death was extremely gruesome, as if he had been forcibly torn apart by some immense force.
"Retreat! Retreat immediately!"
Gaius issued the command almost as soon as he saw the scene, his voice through the vox-caster urgent and grave as never before.
A trap! This was an outright trap!
Gaine's death was the signal!
However, it was too late.
Just as they turned to rush out the door, in the previously empty courtyard outside the mansion, space twisted violently like water ripples!
A massive, grotesque figure, composed of countless constantly shifting geometric shapes and shimmering, ghostly blue light, materialized out of thin air!
It stood dozens of meters tall, holding a staff wreathed in eerie energy, its tip embedded with an ever-opening and closing eyeball—it was a mighty Lord of Change, a high-ranking Daemon of Tzeentch!
The moment the Lord of Change appeared, its eyes, which seemed to be made of countless shattered spaces and times, locked onto the nine Astartes inside the mansion.
It gave no time for reaction, slamming its staff to the ground!
"Dong—!"
A dull, massive thud, not transmitted through the air, but directly impacting the soul and space-time itself, erupted!
The next moment, centered on where the staff struck the ground, an invisible yet incredibly powerful force spread out like a tide, instantly enveloping the entire Governor's Mansion and its surrounding area!
Time... was drawn away.
Everything inside the mansion, whether it was the flying dust, the swaying halo of the crystal chandeliers, Gaius's arm just raised to give an order, Brother Deklan's astonished expression, the data flowing on Luna's data-slate, the Kill Team members' instantaneous shift into combat stances... all froze in place, motionless, like footage on pause!
Their consciousness was also bound by this terrifying temporal power, fixed at the moment they perceived the danger but were powerless to react.
Their thoughts stagnated, their senses sealed, like insects preserved in amber.
However, in this realm of absolute temporal stasis, there was one exception—Brother Deklan.
The moment time froze, an indescribable, agonizing pain, as if his skull was being forcibly split open, exploded from deep within his brain!
This pain was so familiar, it was the terrifying sensation, like the forced implantation of the butcher's nails, that he had experienced before his life-and-death duel with the Khorne Chosen Khârn in the imaginal world's Arena!
"Ugh, ahhh—!"
Brother Deklan let out a bestial roar of agony, but this roar was also frozen in time, unable to escape.
His massive body, clad in terminator armour, trembled uncontrollably, then with a "boom" he crashed to his knees, subsequently falling forward, his immense weight causing the ground to subtly vibrate—but this vibration was also confined within the temporal stasis field.
The excruciating pain, like a tsunami, crashed over his nerves in waves, and his vision was rapidly swallowed by darkness.
In the last instant before his consciousness plunged completely into the abyss, his bloodshot eyes, strained with agony, blurred through his helmet's eyepieces and saw—one, no, a group of World Eaters warriors, clad in blood-red power armour, their armour adorned with spikes and skull decorations, emerging from the shadows within the mansion, walking towards them with savage and cruel smiles...
The blood god Khorne knew Brother Deklan's loyalty to the Emperor and Ultramar was unshakeable, but it had its own ways to bypass this stubborn will.
It didn't need to persuade, didn't need to tempt; it only needed to awaken... the berserk essence of a Khorne Chosen, already buried deep within his soul, silently linked after his battle with Khârn, and use the most extreme pain as a catalyst to forcibly tear apart his mental defenses!
Just as both squads, all nine Astartes, fell under the combined assault of temporal stasis and internal ambush, the Inquisition fleet, poised in orbit above Drathemiandas, received an encrypted communication from the surface.
The communication source was displayed as "Sanx Squad," and the content was brief:
"Tithe funds acquired, currently being transported to the shuttle by servitors. Request Inquisition to act immediately to apprehend the traitor Gaine. —Sergeant Karl Horn."
This message was, of course, a cunning forgery by the Lord of Change.
They needed to lure more "sacrifices" and "spectators" into this slaughterhouse.
Grand Inquisitor Gorgen and Inquisitor Malka, who had long grown impatient, saw this "confirmation" message, and their eyes immediately blazed with cold light.
"The time has come!" Grand Inquisitor Gorgen's voice was like scraping metal, "The purification begins!"
"Let the traitors wail in the Emperor's wrath!" Grand Inquisitor Malka sharply ordered.
The massive Inquisition fleet immediately sprang into action!
Dozens of transports, like a swarm of bees leaving their hive, laden with Stormtroopers directly under the Inquisition, elite soldiers of the Imperial Navy, and a large number of fanatical Sisters of Battle, descended towards the area of the Governor's Mansion on the top floor of the Hive City!
They were formidable, determined to eradicate the Planetary Governor and his cronies, who dared to collude with xenos and betray the Imperium, with overwhelming force, using the most severe means to assert the authority of the Inquisition and the will of the Emperor.
However, they had no idea that what awaited them below was not an isolated, helpless traitor Governor, but a bloody hell—a trap set by two Chaos Gods working together, filled with endless Daemons, numerous fallen World Eaters Astartes, and... a Daemon Primarch who had long since lost his sanity and existed only for slaughter!
When the first wave of Stormtroopers and Imperial Navy soldiers successfully landed and swiftly surrounded the seemingly silent Governor's Mansion, they encountered no resistance.
Subsequently, the Sisters of Battle transports also landed precisely, and the Daughters of the Emperor, clad in power armour and armed with Bolters and flamers, marched with determined steps into the courtyard.
The leading Battle Sister Superior looked around; apart from some strange scorch marks on the ground and uncleaned purple stains, the area was empty.
She did not see any Astartes Brothers and felt a slight doubt, but then thought, "Perhaps the Ultramarines and Deathwatch Brothers have completed their mission and already withdrawn with the tithe."
She didn't ponder it further.
A squad of Sisters of Battle, under the cover of their comrades, walked to the gate that Brother Deklan had violently pushed open, preparing to enter the mansion, declare the crimes of Planetary Governor Kage Gane, and carry out the arrest.
Just as the leading Battle Sister raised her arm, preparing to push open the ajar gate—
A sudden change occurred!
"Boom!!!"
The gate, along with the surrounding walls, suddenly exploded inwards!
Several blood-red figures, like phantoms, roared out from the smoke and debris!
They were the World Eaters warriors, who had been lurking!
Wielding chainaxes and combat knives, they lunged at the unsuspecting Sisters of Battle at the entrance with lightning speed!
"Skulls for the blood god!!!"
Mad warcries and the roar of Bolters instantly erupted!
The distance was too close, the attack too sudden!
The first few Sisters of Battle didn't even have time to raise their weapons before their power armour was torn apart by frenzied chainaxes, or their bodies were pierced by combat knives, blood and fragments of organs splattering everywhere, instantly falling dead!
"Enemy attack! It's Chaos Astartes!" The Battle Sister Superior issued a sharp alarm, and the surviving Sisters immediately sought cover, their Bolters spitting vengeful fire.
However, this was just the beginning.
With the appearance of the World Eaters, centered on the Governor's Mansion, the surrounding ground, walls, and even the air began to surge with blood-red energy ripples like boiling water!
Large numbers of lesser Khorne Daemons—roaring Bloodletters, Khorne Berserkers wielding flesh-rending cleavers, and several even larger beasts, like giants forged of flesh and brass—Bloodthirsters, poured out of Warp rifts!
They let out deafening roars, like a bursting crimson flood, instantly rushing towards the Stormtroopers and Imperial Navy soldiers on the periphery who had not yet fully deployed their formations!
"For the Emperor! Purge the heretics!" The Sisters of Battle shouted slogans, engaging in fierce combat with the charging World Eaters and Daemons.
Bolter rounds flew, chainswords roared, psychic flames clashed with Daemon sorcery, and the scene instantly plunged into extreme chaos.
Although the Sisters of Battle were steadfast in their faith and well-trained, they faced Chaos Astartes, blessed by the Chaos Gods, whose strength and madness far surpassed ordinary beings, and endless Khorne Daemons who knew no fear.
Every second, loyal warriors fell under the claws of Daemons or the chainaxes of the World Eaters, their blood staining the pristine white ground.
In orbit, Inquisitor Gorgen and Inquisitor Malka, an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor and an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor respectively, watched the suddenly erupting and far more intense battle on the ground through observation screens, along with the demonic legions pouring out like a tide. For the first time, their perpetually stoic faces showed expressions of disbelief and shock.
"What is that?! Daemons?! And... those red power armour... are those World Eaters?!" Gorgen's voice carried a rare hint of trepidation.
"More than that... Look there! Inside the Governor's Mansion... that energy signal..." Malka stared intently at a rapidly escalating signal source on the screen, emitting terrifying fluctuations that made one's soul tremble, her face turning incredibly grim.
They had originally thought it was merely a simple operation to suppress traitors, but they never expected to directly encounter a chaotic invasion of such immense scale! It might even... involve far more terrifying entities.
The blood sacrifice had already begun.
And the offerings were far more than just the two fallen Astartes squads.
From orbit, Inquisitor Gorgen and Inquisitor Malka, an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor and an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor respectively, gazed through observation screens at the area on the upper levels of the Hive City below, which had instantly transformed into a bloody purgatory. The roars of Daemons, the thunder of Bolters, the dying screams of soldiers, and the resolute battle cries of the Sisters of Battle mingled together, clearly reaching their ears through the sensors. What was originally a planned cleansing operation had evolved into a sudden, large-scale Chaos invasion!
On the faces of the two Grand Inquisitors, the perpetual icy calm showed a crack, but it was not fear; rather, it was the shock of being fooled and the gravity of the rapidly deteriorating situation.
"We've been tricked!" Grand Inquisitor Gorgen's voice was like scraping metal, carrying a bone-chilling coldness, "This is a meticulously laid trap! The target was never that foolish Governor, but us, and... those Astartes!"
Grand Inquisitor Malka's gaze was as sharp as an eagle's. She stared intently at the endless Khorne Daemons pouring out of the Warp rifts on the screen, and the blood-red figures of World Eaters rampaging among them: "It's the power of Khorne! Such a massive demonic manifestation... and Chaos Astartes appearing in organized units... this is no accident!"
Without hesitation, Gorgen immediately initiated a highest-priority encrypted communication with the Macragge's Honour. Moments later, Chapter Master Marius Calgar's steady face, tinged with a hint of fatigue, appeared in the holographic projection.
"Chapter Master Calgar," Gorgen cut straight to the chase without any pleasantries, his tone urgent and cold, "We have encountered a Chaos trap! A large-scale Chaos invasion has erupted in the upper levels of Drathemiandas, in the Planetary Governor's Mansion area! We have confirmed the presence of a large number of lower-tier Khorne Daemons, organized units of World Eaters Chaos Space Marines, and at least one Bloodthirster! Our advance ground forces have engaged the enemy, but the situation is extremely unfavorable, with heavy casualties!"
He paused, then emphasized, "The most urgent matter is to ascertain the status of the Astartes squad you dispatched! They were the first to enter the mansion and are currently completely out of contact! We need to know the exact situation inside, and... whether they are still alive! The Inquisition will fight to the death with the local shrine world's defense forces to prevent the spread of the Daemons, and has already sent a highest-priority distress signal to Terra, requesting... Grey Knights intervention!"
Calgar, on the other end of the communication, listened to Gorgen's report, and a storm instantly condensed in his glacial blue eyes. Chaos trap? World Eaters? Khorne Greater Demon? His squad out of contact?
"I understand, Grand Inquisitor Gorgen." Calgar's voice remained steady, but those familiar with him could discern the suppressed rage and worry beneath, "Please hold your ground and prevent the Daemons from spreading as much as possible. I will immediately confirm the status of my men and convene an emergency war council."
After ending the communication, Calgar abruptly rose from his obsidian throne and sternly ordered the bridge crew: "Immediately pull up the vital sign monitoring data for the three members of Sanks Squad! Highest priority!"
The crew dared not delay and quickly operated the controls. However, a few seconds later, a Tech-Priest looked up, a barely perceptible tremor in his mechanical voice: "Chapter Master... unable to detect vital sign signals for Sergeant Sanx, Brother Deklan, and Tech-Sergeant Luna... Data shows... zero."
"What?!" Calgar's heart plummeted, "KIA?" The thought pierced his heart like an icicle. But he immediately forced himself to calm down, "Impossible! They are well-equipped and experienced. Even if they encountered a strong enemy, they couldn't have all died instantly without even having time to send a distress signal! Try again! Activate all backup channels, attempt to contact them!"
"Attempting... All encrypted channels unresponsive... power armour beacon signals gone... Possibly disarmed or deceased." The Tech-Priest's report was like a final verdict.
Calgar slammed his fist onto a nearby control panel, the hard metal surface instantly denting. He was unwilling to accept it! Gaius, Dorian, Luna... these were all excellent warriors he had personally trained, the backbone of the First Company! How could they be silently lost in what seemed like a simple tax collection mission?
But there was no time to dwell on grief and doubt. As Chapter Master, he was responsible for the entire battle.
"My command!" Calgar's voice, like thunder, echoed through the bridge, "All Company Captains on board, gather in the strategium within ten minutes! Emergency war council!"
Meanwhile, deep within the Governor's Mansion, shrouded by the stasis field, Dorian's consciousness did not remain within his frozen body.
When he "recovered" his senses again, he found himself in an incredibly familiar yet loathsome environment—that boundless, bloody Arena that existed within his mindscape!
The sky was eternally blood-red, the ground was sticky and slippery sand soaked with countless blood, and the air was thick with the smell of rust, sweat, and death. Surrounding him were towering, mountain-like grandstands, packed with countless blurry, distorted figures whose only discernible features were crimson eyes and wildly flailing arms, emitting deafening, incessant roars and shouts.
However, this time, he was not standing on the sand of the Arena awaiting an opponent. He was impaled by countless cold, rusty metal spikes, piercing through his limbs and torso, like a broken doll, hoisted high on a thick, blood-stained wooden stake in the center of the Arena!
He tried to struggle, but found his body completely unresponsive, as if this impaled form was merely an illusion. Even more bizarrely, he felt no pain from being pierced by the spikes, only a cold, suffocating sense of restraint.
He painstakingly lowered his head and looked at the Arena below. The sight before him instantly filled his heart, which had never known fear even against a thousand armies, with rage and sorrow!
Below, the Space Wolves warrior of the Deathwatch Kill Team—the Protector—had been forcibly stripped of his heavy power armour, wearing only tattered under-armour, revealing his magnificent body covered in scars and rippling muscles. In his hand, he tightly gripped his iconic, savagely serrated maul, engaged in a brutal struggle with an equally burly opponent who also wore no power armour!
That opponent was a World Eater warrior! His head was densely implanted, or rather, grew with constantly rotating and vibrating butcher's nails, his eyes glowed with a crazed blood-red light, and drool constantly streamed uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth. He wielded a humming power axe in each hand, wildly hacking at the Wolf warrior with a berserk disregard for his own defense!
The sand of the Arena floor had long since been completely stained dark red by someone's blood, so viscous it almost reached their ankles. Nearby, a mountain of World Eater corpses lay piled up, their deaths varied—some with shattered skulls, others disemboweled. However, what was horrifying was that shortly after these bodies fell, they would eerily twitch, their fatal wounds rapidly healing at a visible rate, and then... they would grab their weapons again, roaring, and once more await to rejoin the battle!
This was no fair duel! This was an endless, successive battle against the Wolf warrior! The goal was to exhaust every ounce of his strength, to crush every inch of his will!
"Roar—!" The Wolf warrior let out a roar like a wounded lone wolf, seizing a fleeting opening, and swung his heavy maul with all his might, accurately smashing it into the side of the World Eater's face!
"Bang!"
Like a ripe watermelon bursting, the World Eater's head was instantly pulverized, red and white matter mixed with shattered metal nails flying everywhere! The headless body swayed, then crashed to the ground.
The blurry figures in the stands instantly erupted into even more frenzied shouts and roars, as if reveling in this feast of ultimate violence.
The Wolf warrior gasped for air, his chest heaving like bellows, sweat mixed with blood continuously streaming down his bronzed skin, clearly nearing the limits of his physical endurance. His eyes, once full of fighting spirit, had inevitably become tinged with a hint of fatigue and despair.
However, the cruel gladiatorial combat gave him no respite.
Almost simultaneously with the fall of the headless corpse, the gate on the other side of the Arena slammed open again! Another World Eater warrior, implanted with butcher's nails, with crazed eyes and drooling mouth, strode in with heavy steps! He also wore no power armour, tightly gripping a pair of combat knives that glowed with a dangerous red light, and let out a provocative, low growl at the exhausted Wolf warrior.
The Wolf warrior looked at his new opponent, a flicker of grim determination in his eyes. He gripped the maul that had accompanied him through countless battles, took several deep breaths of the blood-scented air, and with his last reserves of strength, let out an unyielding roar from the bloodline of his homeland, Fenris:
"For Russ! Fenris endures!"
Before his roar faded, he dragged his weary body, like a tiger pouncing on its prey, actively charging towards the fresh World Eater!
"No! Let him go! Come at me if you dare!" Dorian, suspended in mid-air, let out a roar of extreme fury. He struggled desperately, trying to break free from the spikes piercing his body, to go down and help his brother who was being shamelessly worn down by a successive battle. However, no matter how hard he tried, the icy restraint remained unmoving, pinning him firmly to the pillar of shame.
At the same time, a familiar, soul-rending pain suddenly erupted again from deep within his brain! This suffering did not come from physical wounds, but directly affected his will and soul, as if countless invisible "butcher's nails" were frantically drilling into his brain marrow!
Extreme pain and helpless rage intertwined, almost driving Dorian mad! He could only tilt his head back and, facing the blood-red sky, let out a continuous roar like a wounded beast, mixed with pain and fury! This roar, in this bloody Arena, seemed to transform into a war drum cheering on the cruel duel below, further stimulating the frenzy of the blurry figures in the stands.
Just then, a grand, low, terrifying voice, as if composed of billions of wars and massacres, directly penetrated all obstacles and resounded deep within Dorian's soul—it was the whispered will of the blood god Khorne:
"Watch... My chosen one..."
"Watch how these false Emperor's dogs... are slowly crushed and torn apart... before your eyes..."
"Your loyalty... your struggle... your roars... all are a feast to please Me..."
"Today... you shall become My chosen warrior... witness the demise of old friends... and embrace... true power!"
Khorne's objective was clear. It did not need to immediately twist Dorian's will; it wanted to use this most cruel method—making him watch helplessly as his loyal comrades were slowly worn to death by endless successive battles, while he himself was powerless, consumed only by pain and rage—to gradually erode his loyalty and bonds to the Imperium and his comrades, until he finally broke, willingly embracing that destructive, berserk power.
Amidst his pained roars, Dorian desperately called out the names of Gaius and Luna in his heart, hoping for a response, hoping that they would appear as they had countless times before when he was in distress.
However, this time, there was no response.
Only the increasingly heavy gasps of the Wolf warrior in the Arena below, the explosive clang of weapons, and the incessant, bloodthirsty shouts of revelry from the stands.