Chapter 94: We Will Never Fall!
"What my eyes see is not what is seen," the knight whispered, as if in a self-hypnosis.
Why would you compete in skill with a prey that is weaker than you?
The voice echoed across the battlefield, transmitted into the minds of every warrior, as if to inform those who were being influenced by Chaos.
Why would you acknowledge that something weaker than you can affect you?
Yes, the Warp was a festering sore attached to every living being in this universe. This was their tragedy. They could not cast aside its influence. They could only stand at the bottom of a cliff, facing an insurmountable gap, and fight against a host of monsters and fiends. This was the most disgusting characteristic of the daemons.
But the transmigrators could.
The warriors behind the transmigrators could!
CLANG!
The knight swung his sword, the speed impossible to follow with the naked eye. It was a strike of pure instinct. A new wound appeared on the Keeper of Secrets. Its perfect defense was broken, its prideful skill pierced.
"What my body blocks is not what is blocked."
CRACK!
A pair of bloody hands reached out from the daemonic tide. A warrior who had been tackled to the ground rose, tore the fungus that was licking at his wounds from his flesh, and stomped on a Nurgling that had lunged at him.
"Be silent!" the knight commanded.
Visibly, the Greater Daemon of Slaanesh panicked. For the first time, an expression of sheer terror appeared on its face. It could no longer see the knight's movements. To see through skill was its right, a power it wielded in this world.
Yes, this is a real world. You are all real beings.
The sickening stench of blood was sharp in his nostrils. The wind of the Warp blew past, and even the wind carried a malice that wanted to poison everything. A suffocating atmosphere brewed within, as if this world was eternally shrouded in the shadows of despair, pain, and fear.
This world was not meant to be peaceful.
But—
THUMP!
The sound of a shield rising, of it striking a carapace.
WHOOSH!
The sound of feet on the ground, of a blade tearing through flesh.
A pool of blood gathered at the knight's feet. He raised his head, his emerald eyes cold and clear.
This is my world.
Why should I obey the rules of your world? Why should I compete with you in skill?
Sudden stop... acceleration... cleave... defend...
He surrendered to pure instinct. The body that wielded the sword had already memorized every art of killing. All that was left was to cut.
If you are a dragon, why would you abandon your physical might to compete in skill with a dwarf using your sharp claws?
Skill is something the weak use to defeat the strong.
And you—
You venomous insects.
The two intertwined figures separated in an instant. The Keeper of Secrets retreated several dozen steps, its body covered in a patchwork of sword-wounds. The blood dripped, staining the velvet-like silk. The Slaaneshi body, with every passing moment, tempted its opponent to lay down his arms and embrace pleasure.
Arthur was unmoved. He raised his sword again.
It should not exist.
"If my will does not exist, then nothing exists," the sword hummed, seeming to repeat the knight's holy words.
"I told you to be silent!" the Keeper of Secrets shrieked, hammering at the black sword with its own longsword, trying to shatter it.
I can't see it.
It thought in a panic.
I can't see anything at all.
"You will die! And everything you cherish will die—no, their souls will fall into the six-ringed domain, and they will never perish!" it roared madly, threatening him in the cruelest way it knew. It released a thick cloud of mist, trying once more to corrupt the brave warriors, trying to make the knight hesitate.
This was the true color of Chaos. Twisted thoughts, no bottom line.
But—
No hesitation?
The chainsword of a Battle-Sister cleaved down, still shattering the skull of an enemy of Mankind.
No blasphemy of a body forcibly controlled?
The plasma fire from an Astartes's hands shot out, still blossoming with destructive power.
When the sound of "corruption" echoed in their ears, when the pustules of "plague" tried to spread on their flesh, these steadfast warriors did not waver for a single instant.
Yes. They would not waver.
When the ground is leveled to the same height, how can a rolling stone shake a giant tree?
'What in the hell is this?!'
The Keeper of Secrets was bewildered. It shouldn't be like this. Even a being as strong as a Primarch could only maintain his own incorruptibility; he could not save his sons. This world had always been like this!
The knight's sword came, roaring against the wanton wind, but it could no longer see its path.
"When the shadow no longer rises, when the light is no longer silent," he chanted in a low voice. The sound was clear, cold, yet slightly piercing, like the first ray of dawn on a mountaintop, wrapped in cold and wind.
"When we stand on the same horizon, we are far greater than you."
A Daemonette of Slaanesh, using its cunning, struck the Astartes's armor from the side. A surging cloud of mist, released without regard for the cost, was a technique that could make countless men fall.
The black iron armor moved, the hydraulic systems letting out a roar that was a sneer. He swung the plasma gun, which was hot enough to ignite the atmosphere, downwards, like a colossus trampling at will.
Kneeling on one knee, he shattered the bodies of three Daemonettes. The plasma gun burned the sweet, toxic mist from the air, the spike at the end of its stock piercing deep into a daemon's body.
"We accept the trial. We will not break."
A Nurgle daemon was knocked back. Its corpulent body, in the eyes of an opponent who was no longer slow, was just a target to be kneaded at will. The pustules that burst from it were a lethal weapon that could torment the flesh.
The crimson body lunged forward. The whirring chainsword let out a joyous roar. She swung her chainsword in a powerful uppercut, tearing through the plague-cloud. The holy fire that erupted from its teeth turned her into a burning comet, as wanton as a butcher. On her no-longer-holy face, lips stained with rotten flesh pulled back in a violent grin. The Sister twisted in mid-air and brought her chainsword down, cleaving into the daemon's neck. What sprayed from the swollen neck was not toxic pus, but flesh and blood ignited by the high temperature, which then erupted from the saw-blades into a brilliant shower of sparks.
"Our noble character will shine brightly before the dawn."
Gurgle... ugh...
The Keeper of Secrets was forced back again. It was an attack that was beyond its comprehension, like the roar of a mythical dragon.
Only then did the Keeper of Secrets realize what was different about its enemy.
That being should not exist in their world. The knight was advancing, using his own cognition to cleanse this filthy world. He wanted his world to cover this one.
But there was no more time for it to think.
"We—"
The expanding pressure wave sent the corpse-chunks, which were mixed with a massive amount of filth, flying outwards, away from the center.
And within it, the knight charged again, leading the warriors who were beginning to burn behind him.
"—will never fall!"
(End of Chapter)