The hunger of the Hive Mind is a singular, absolute force. It does not comprehend shock or awe; it only recognizes opportunity. The armored giants were frozen, their focus diverted by the strange, soft-spoken newcomer. For the Genestealers, this was simply the moment to strike, to tear ceramite and flesh and bring all biomass to the glorious, consuming whole. With a unified shriek that echoed in both realspace and the Immaterium, the tide of claws and fangs surged forward.
Sergeant Cassian's combat-honed instincts screamed back to life. "Contact! Brothers, to the line!" he roared, his bolter thundering in the cavernous chapel.
But the sheer speed and number of the xenos were overwhelming. They flowed over the debris like a river of scythe-limbed nightmares. The Space Marines braced for impact, their chainswords roaring to life, ready to sell their lives dearly for the Emperor.
Rimuru watched the scene with a heavy sigh. His internal monologue was a flurry of frustrated pragmatism. Oh, come on. Just when we were about to talk. If they get wiped out, I'll be stuck here with these… screeching things. And even if these soldiers were hostile, this is a terrible way to die.
A profound sense of pity washed over him. He saw not just giant, aggressive soldiers, but beings fighting desperately for their lives against an absolute horror. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, and he had the power to end the nightmare.
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I know, Ciel. I know. He thought back, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Just clean up the mess. And try to be quiet about it.
He raised a single hand, palm open. To Librarian Corvus, whose senses were screaming at the impending doom, the gesture seemed hopelessly futile. What could this unarmed, unarmored being possibly do against such a horde?
There was no blast of fire, no bolt of lightning. There was only a sudden, profound silence.
It was a silence that fell not just upon the ears, but upon the soul. The chittering shrieks of the Genestealers cut off instantly. The nauseating psychic static of the Hive Mind that grated on the edges of Corvus's perception vanished, erased as if it had never been.
The entire swarm of xenos froze mid-lunge. For a single, horrifying moment, they were a perfect tableau of slaughter. Then, they began to un-make.
It was not burning or disintegration. It was a quiet, orderly oblivion. Starting from their extremities, their bodies dissolved into motes of faint, blue-white light, like dust caught in a sunbeam that wasn't there. The light faded into nothingness before it could even drift to the rusted floor. Within seconds, the entire horde was gone. Not slain, but deleted from existence.
The silence that remained was heavy, absolute, and far more terrifying than the noise it had replaced.
Rimuru lowered his hand and let out a small breath, as if he'd just finished a minor chore. He turned his attention back to the stunned Ultramarines, his expression one of gentle concern.
"There. That's better," he said, his voice soft. "Are you all alright? That looked like it was about to get nasty."
The question, so mundane and so deeply empathetic, was a greater shock to Corvus than the display of power itself. He stared at the empty space, at the absolute lack of any evidence that the xenos had ever been there. He could feel nothing in the Warp where they had been. Not the lingering echoes of death, not the stain of their passage. Just a smooth, clean void. It was spiritual annihilation on a scale he could not comprehend.
"What… what was that?" Sergeant Cassian's gruff voice crackled over the vox, stripped of its usual bravado.
Rimuru offered a small, placating smile. "Just a little pest control. They were interrupting our conversation." He took a hesitant step forward. "My name is Rimuru Tempest. I truly mean you no harm. I am just very, very lost."
Corvus watched him, his mind a battlefield of conflicting truths. His doctrine was absolute: Suffer not the alien to live. His faith was his shield: The Emperor protects. But his senses, the very psychic gift that made him a Librarian, told him a different story. This being, this 'Rimuru', radiated no malice. It held a power that could have erased them as easily as it did the Genestealers, yet it had chosen to save them. It spoke with a gentle civility that was utterly alien to this dark and brutal galaxy.
His duty to the Imperium was to eliminate threats. But was his greater duty not to understand them? What peril could be greater than ignorance of a power like this?
He made a decision. It was a decision that might damn his soul as a heretic, but it was the only logical, tactical choice left.
"I am Librarian Corvus," he said, his voice regaining a measure of its formal composure. "You have our gratitude for your… assistance." He paused, the words feeling strange in his mouth. "You say you are lost. Explain."