"Stomp!" Datch shouted, suddenly stomping his foot so hard that cracks snaked across the ground in an instant. A powerful shockwave blasted out in all directions, centered on him. Every daemon that leapt at him was sent flying, crashing down hard and far away. Datch bounded forward like a spring, rushing at his first target, the chainsword in his hand roaring to life.
The Bloodletter, having just gotten to its feet, saw the high-speed chainsword slicing for its head and wanted to roar in defiance, but it was too late. Its ugly head spun into the air, trailing filthy blood and shattered bone.
A Flesh Hound with Khorne's collar tried to sneak up on Datch from the left, but Datch, without even glancing, drew his super shotgun and pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang! The hound didn't even have time to yelp before its head was blown apart by shotgun blasts—a pitiful end.
Several flame-wreathed daemons of Khorne charged at Datch, trying to encircle the Emperor's servants. In that moment, the "Halloween Carnival" entry of his Pumpkin Power Armor activated. The hellfire around the daemons turned into fireworks, and their heads all transformed into pumpkins. Confused expressions crossed their faces—how had their majestic auras of flame and fearsome heads become like this?!
Datch offered no explanation, cutting them down and blasting them without mercy. The daemons seemed endless: kill one, and two more attacked. Datch did his best to slay as many as possible, but was soon overwhelmed by the tide of daemons.
All around him—front, back, left, and right—there were roaring daemons wherever he looked. If he hadn't been using his "Killing Desire" skill to recover health during combat, he'd already be dead. Even so, he had to occasionally pull out his golden hammer his damaged pumpkin armor back to working order.
Valerian, standing on high ground, watched Datch battling in the thick of the daemon tide with awe. This person's methods seemed limitless, each more astonishing than the last!
Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to focus, Valerian surveyed the rest of the battlefield. The heroes of the Imperium, led by Roboute Guilliman, had joined the fray. The Primarch wielded the Emperor's Sword—wherever the blade struck, golden flames swept out, each blow bringing screams from daemons and shattered bodies in its wake. The Primarch stood unyielding, weathering even the fiercest daemon waves.
Daemons of Khorne roared at the Primarch, and the two sides clashed in a titanic struggle. The Emperor's Sword clashed with the tainted iron of the Warp, sending shockwaves through everything nearby. The earth-shaking battle destroyed any daemons caught in its wake before they could even scream. Around the Primarch, squads of Astartes formed an immortal defensive line, strangling the daemon tide and preventing the Primarch from being overwhelmed.
The Sisters of Battle, under Living Saint Celestine's command, joined the fight as well, using faith and hot lead to drive back rampaging monsters. Celestine herself, aided by the Grand Master Voldus and other Imperial heroes, confronted the daemons of Khorne directly.
The battle raged fiercely, both sides locked in brutal melee. Choosing close combat was no foolishness—it was a last resort. Long-range firepower could weaken and delay the daemons, but to truly kill these Warp-spawned horrors, one always had to return to the most primal means: hack them apart with blades, smash their cores with fists, and only then could these evil beings be banished from Terra.
Suddenly, horns blared—the Emperor's mightiest warriors had joined the battle. Behind a dense curtain of artillery fire, the Lion's Gate slowly opened. The Custodes, the Emperor's ten-thousand-year-hidden guardians, emerged, bearing the Emperor's wrath to face the forces of Chaos.
There were so many Custodes in this war—second only to the battles of the Webway. They brandished spears that arced with blinding light, golden battle standards shining as brightly as they had ten millennia before. As Chief, Trajann Valoris led the charge, his halberd sweeping aside all comers—every daemon in his path was reduced to chunks of flesh and blood.
Even the fearless, slumbering Custodes elders awoke, striding heavily into battle to fight the mightiest of the daemons. Valerian, feeling the urge to join his comrades, nearly threw himself in, but reason held him back. He tore his gaze away from the Custodes' battlefield, intent on his own purpose.
Recently recalled squads of Silent Sisters also entered the fray, relying on each other to resist the daemon tide. Without support, they would almost certainly be overwhelmed.
"For the Emperor," Valerian growled, and, hesitating no longer, activated his warspear and leapt into the battle. His golden-armored form charged into the enemy tide, leaving a trail of afterimages in the air, streaking into the crimson sea of daemons like a flaming golden thread.
The Grey Knights, clad in silver-grey power armor and armed with psychic weapons, followed Valerian into the attack. Like a silent silver thunderclap, they plunged from on high, joining the fight to help the beleaguered Silent Sisters. Bright psychic light focused on the Grey Knights' weapons.
For a long time, the Custodes had been stationed deep within the Palace, rarely interacting with the Grey Knights or getting involved in political intrigue. Yet, as the two forces fought together, their synergy was astonishing—almost instinctive. Perhaps, when the Emperor designed the Grey Knights, he intended for them to fight alongside the Custodes against terrible threats.
Whenever the Grey Knight formation was broken by the daemonic onslaught, Valerian immediately intervened—demolishing oncoming daemons with peerless martial skill and helping the Grey Knights regroup. When daemons tried to surround Valerian, the Grey Knights unleashed their psychic might, binding or destroying the foes.
They shielded each other, cutting through the roaring tide together, advancing toward the trapped Silent Sisters. Soon, the two teams linked up, forming a new, united squad.
But Sister Aleya of the Silent Sisters was less than enthusiastic about their Custodian rescuers—in fact, she was a bit uncomfortable. Aleya hailed from a remote world called Arraissa, once part of a small order led by Sister Atarine Hestia. There had originally been nine sisters, but after a treacherous Chaos attack, only Aleya survived.
While studying relics, Aleya discovered a final prophecy left in blood by her Order's spirits before they died:
"He called his daughters home."
So Aleya, leading her loyal followers, piloted an ancient, decrepit ship back toward Terra, braving the sea of stars with only faint hope and a burning sense of mission. On the way, they suffered a crisis at the hands of Chaos invader ships, but were ultimately rescued by the Black Ship Enduring Abundance. The Black Ship, requisitioned by Custodian Navradaran was gathering Silent Sisters scattered across the nation to counter the rising tide of daemon events.
The Silent Sisters had once been the Emperor's right hand, holding high status and dreaded by daemons as the "Daughters of Calamity." But after the Horus Heresy, political struggles forced them away from the centers of power, and they were forgotten among the stars. When Navradaran found Aleya, she was gathering her scattered Sisters, but their equipment was pitiful: worn-out power armor patched and scarred, a rusty flamer running out of fuel, and an antique chainsword on its last legs. Compared to the Custodes' resplendent gear, the contrast was biting.
This difference angered Aleya and the other few quiet Sisters from distant convents. The Custodes and Silent Sisters had once been perfect partners, the Emperor's most trusted troops. But as the Silent Sisters faded into obscurity, exiled and left without supply or support, the Custodes were content to guard their magnificent palace, turning a blind eye to the Sisters' suffering. The Custodes, decked in gilded finery, acted as if all blame lay with the Silent Sisters.
Thus, Aleya disliked the Custodes. Even though the combination of their forces provided a synergistic advantage in battle, she wanted nothing to do with them.
Aleya resented the Imperium's officials and the Custodes, longing to blame them. Yet, when the daemon invasion alarm sounded, she donned her battered gear and threw herself into the bloody fight without hesitation. Of course, she fought for the Emperor—not for those who rejected or ignored Him.
The Silent Sisters' psychic null aura rendered them completely immune to the temptations of Chaos daemons. That's why Aleya saw no seductive whispers, no bloody canopies or warped hellscapes—only monstrous, hideous enemies needing purification. She quietly wielded her twin blades, working efficiently with her Sisters, cleaving through the oncoming daemons. Yet, there were simply too many—an endless crimson tide. Even with Voldus and the Grey Knights' help, they were in dire straits.
At that moment, a daemon of Khorne crossed the battlefield, marching toward Aleya's position, burning to slaughter the Daughters of Calamity. Valerian and the Grey Knights confronted it. The Silent Sisters' null field dampened the daemon's power, but it remained monstrously strong. Even with both Custodes and Silent Sisters, plus the Grey Knights, it was a brutal fight—especially as countless other daemons pressed in.
Aleya's squad inflicted heavy damage, but their situation was desperate. Silent Sister Geranda was run through the chest by a bloodthirsty daemon's crimson sword, blood spraying as her armor was stained red; she collapsed, dying. Valerian speared the daemon through its chest but was smacked aside, his tough auramite armor shattering and blood running deep.
Other Silent Sisters and Grey Knights suffered wounds in the fighting. Aleya, gasping from exhaustion, worried she might fall before bringing victory to the Emperor. Then, she caught a glimpse of an Astartes in bizarre pumpkin-themed power armor bounding across the battlefield. The Astartes' shotgun was devastating, blasting daemons apart in a single shot. Their staff could shrink or enlarge at will, and with a tap, could crush a daemon's skull.
The Astartes approached the fallen, gravely wounded Geranda, pulled out a tiny golden hammer, and gave a gentle tap. A miracle happened. Geranda's mortal wounds healed at a speed visible to the naked eye. Her pale face regained color, even her broken power armor restored itself as if time had reversed. Geranda's eyes snapped open; she rolled over, leapt up, grabbed her weapon, and plunged back into the fray—fighting harder than before!
Aleya's eyes widened, unable to believe what she saw. Just then, the odd Astartes bounded over to her. Aleya instinctively tensed, but the Astartes simply raised the golden hammer and gently tapped her shoulder guard. In that instant, warm, vibrant energy surged through her body! Not only was all her fatigue and minor wounds washed away, but even the daemon scars on her power armor were restored to factory-new, gleaming faintly with golden light. Aleya felt sharper and stronger than ever.
After healing Aleya, Datch didn't even look at her, just dashed off to the next wounded warrior. He gained no reward for slaying daemons, but earned plenty by saving lives. For a while, Datch alternated between slaying daemons and serving as a field medic—whenever he saw someone down, he'd rush over, heal them, and rack up experience and points. Aleya wanted to thank him, but could only offer a silent gesture as she watched him run off to the next target. She buried her gratitude, turned, and rejoined the battle against the Khorne daemon.
Valerian, too, was healed—revived by the light tap of the golden hammer. The battered Custodian stood again, armor gleaming as if never damaged. The besieging Khorne daemon noticed this, howling helplessly at Datch. Its forepaws had just wounded the Emperor's followers, about to harvest heads for the Blood God, only to see them restored and leaping back to the fight. How could such an unfair battle even happen?! It wanted to report this—these damnable humans deserved to be hanged! Did anyone care about balance or handicapping?!
…
Meanwhile, deep in the Warp, Khorne sat on his brass throne, always watching the battle and seething with rage at Datch, the field medic. Forget Skarbrand—now this upstart was interfering, preventing his slaves from harvesting lives! Khorne's will, pure rage, surged through every daemon on the field:
"No matter what, prioritize crushing the human with the golden hammer!"
Obeying, the daemons of Khorne howled, their battle cries splitting the clouds. Massive, cracked hooves pounded the ground, sending shockwaves through the besieged Silent Sisters, Grey Knights, and everyone else. Datch, busy healing a wounded Grey Knight, was targeted by a devastating charge. Each step shattered the earth, lower daemons mercilessly shoved aside or crushed.
Facing this overwhelming force, Datch calmly put away the golden hammer and drew a plain, white-bladed sword. For the tide of daemons, the hammer was of little use—after all, it could only affect one at a time. But in a head-to-head fight, this weapon shone.
The Khorne daemon charged, raising its axe, but at that instant Datch slashed down with his sword.
What happened next stunned Aleya, Valerian, and the others:
The invincible Khorne daemon suddenly froze, its massive body collapsing to its knees, smashing the ground to powder. Its huge hands, able to crush tanks, were raised in a classic "hands-together" surrender pose. Its face, twisted with bloodlust, was instantly replaced by confusion, panic, and… unmistakable fear and humiliation.
It struggled to rise, to hack the hated human to pieces and offer his head to the Blood God, but its body would only kneel, hands together, unable to move.
In the Warp, Khorne's rage on his brass throne grew ever more intense.
"Bastard!!"
Seeing the Khorne daemon kneeling, Datch wanted to look up and laugh—this game was just too much fun.
But the next moment, a Flesh Hound leapt at him. Datch swung his sword—without the daemon able to bring its hands down, the hound was instantly cleaved in two. The Khorne daemon, thus freed, charged Datch, knocking him over and sending his sword flying.
Roar!
The Khorne daemon grabbed Datch, about to tear him apart with its bare hands. With his one free arm, Datch tossed a frog candy into the daemon's mouth. Khorne, always roaring, suddenly went "poof!"—and the mighty daemon transformed into a large, adorable frog, croaking helplessly.
The thunderous battlefield seemed to freeze at that moment. Voldus, Celestine, and the other Imperial heroes stared, mouths agape. In all their battles with daemons, they'd never seen anything like this.
….
Bonus chapter at 300 PS
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