The Macragge's Honour descended into chaos. The sounds of battle echoed everywhere.
The comms were filled with officers urgently calling for help or barking orders.
Armed forces scrambled, forming defensive lines in key areas, doing everything to stop the daemonic incursion.
All over the ship, whirling, dazzling warp-light surged—
rainbow halos, like living oil slicks, flowed across walls, floors, and ceilings,
twisting the familiar into blasphemous tableaux.
Low, mad whispers hissed at the edge of everyone's mind, tearing at sanity.
The light thickened, finally coalescing into Tzeentchian daemons—
most numerous were the brightly colored, chattering Horrors.
These cackling fiends hurled multicolored fireballs everywhere, unleashing deafening explosions.
Horrors are made of raw warp energy, the cheapest cannon fodder and slaves in Tzeentch's armies.
They shrieked, charging the Imperial lines with manic steps.
"Open fire! Hold the line! No retreat!"
The commander's roar drowned out the daemons' din.
Loyal soldiers wove a web of death with crossfire; bolts and lasbeams met the oncoming horde.
The front ranks of pink Horrors were shredded instantly.
Yet when destroyed, the pink Horrors didn't vanish.
Instead, in a final burst of gleeful screaming, each split into two smaller blue Horrors, continuing the assault.
Destroying blue Horrors made them split again, into flaming Brimstone Horrors—
which would leap at the nearest human, trying to ignite them,
delighting in their transformation into screaming pillars of fire.
Only by completely destroying the Brimstones could these bizarre warp daemons be fully banished.
"Hold fast! No retreat! Cowards' souls are unworthy to enter the Emperor's realm!"
Commissars barked, even drawing guns to ensure the line held.
Fighting in terror, the soldiers barely contained wave after wave of the daemon tide,
relying on courage and sacrifice.
But over time, their firepower waned, while the enemies seemed endless. Collapse was only a matter of time.
Just as the commanders prepared to die for the Emperor, Datch appeared—
wearing pumpkin-patterned power armor, topped with a round pumpkin helmet,
his ghost and bat decorations a comical contrast to the battle's grimness.
As soon as he entered, the armor's "Halloween Party" trait triggered.
The nearest Horrors found their warp-fireballs twisted by the trait into harmless, sparkling fireworks.
"What... what's happening?!"
The Horrors stared at each other, baffled by their sabotaged magic.
Was this part of Tzeentch's "Great Plan"?
Had they come all this way just to set off fireworks for the "Cursed One's minions" to kill them more easily?
The daemons were confused, but the Imperials were elated.
"The Emperor is watching us! It's time to counterattack!" a commissar shouted.
Seeing the threat diminished, the soldiers rallied, surging forward with Datch to retake ground.
Firepower tore apart the daemons.
But the Horrors kept coming, hoping to drown their foes with numbers.
Datch swung his Staff, smashing one after another, forcing the Horrors to split.
A pink Horror was struck, splitting into two blue ones amid weird giggles.
Datch quickly switched to a super shotgun and fired.
"Bang! Bang!"
Two muffled blasts—both blue Horrors burst like balloons, no further splitting, utterly destroyed.
The surrounding Horrors were stunned—
their kin should have split and kept fighting, yet were erased!
Then the armor's "Trick Time" trait activated.
Beyond stat boosts, every enemy within a hundred meters was afflicted with "panic."
"It's the Cursed One's minion!"
"It's the End!"
"Run!"
A brief, almost "rational" fear broke through the daemons' chaotic nature.
They screamed and fled, desperate not to be next.
"Tch, monster AI is too smart—they always run these days."
Muttering complaints about the devs, Datch followed his minimap, cutting a path toward the bridge.
At the bridge, a brutal melee raged.
Kairos Fateweaver led elite Tzeentch daemons in an assault on Primarch Guilliman and company.
Grand Master Voldus, Inquisitor Greyfax, Living Saint Celestine, and other Imperial heroes were surrounded by daemons, fighting desperately.
Sicarius and the Honor Guard roared, trying to reach the Primarch, but never quite made it.
The Maelstrom's fractured reality made it easy for daemons to draw on warp power,
making even the Grey Knights struggle, especially those less versed in psychic combat.
"Pokémon! Pokémon! I want a cool Pokémon!"
Datch cheered as he leapt into the fray.
His bizarre appearance drew the attention of many daemons—
some wondered if a greenskin was inside the outlandish armor.
No human would be so cheerful in this situation!
Ignoring all, Datch charged straight for Fateweaver, dueling the Primarch.
At that moment, Fateweaver was chanting ancient spells, trying to bind Guilliman with crystal chains.
Lacking psychic resistance, Guilliman roared, hacking at the chains with the Emperor's Sword,
but his legs were already bound, unable to move.
"Become my Pokémon, Kairos!"
Datch shouted Fateweaver's name and hurled a Pokéball with all his might.
It arced through the air, striking one of Kairos's heads dead-on.
The ball cracked open, red light enveloping the startled daemon.
Some force, beyond the rules of this universe,
compressed Kairos's massive form into a streak of light—
and sucked him inside the Pokéball.
The ball landed, snapped shut, and twitched...
Everything happened too fast. The battle paused in stunned silence.
Had the Tzeentchian daemon really been sealed, just like that?
Guilliman, relieved, flashed a smile—
the nameless Astartes had surprised them yet again.
However—
Crack!
A sharp sound—the ball split, blue light bursting out.
Kairos reappeared, bellowing in rage, all four eyes fixed on Datch.
What was that bizarre power, neither psychic nor physical, that had bound him?
"It failed?!"
Datch was dumbfounded.
Catching the last three daemons had been easy—
why not this time?
"Become my pet, Kairos."
Datch tried again, throwing a second Pokéball.
Kairos, now wary, tried to deflect or destroy it with magic.
Yet the ball ignored his shields and sucked him in again.
Crack!
The second ball shattered, Kairos reappeared, now wild with fury.
He was Fateweaver, Tzeentch's chief greater daemon—how could a mere human try to make him a pet?
Did daemons have no dignity?!
"Tch, both failed... Looks like the capture rate for basic Pokéballs is too low for a boss daemon."
Datch shook his head in regret,
realizing he'd need a Master Ball to catch someone of Kairos's caliber.
….
Bonus chapter at 300 PS