Alaya was on her knees, her Vratine armour shattered. Her face was a bruised, bloody mess of flesh. One arm was hanging limp, and she had hundreds of stab wounds and other wounds, but she still gripped her executioner greatblade.
Opposite her was Hestia.
Or what had once been Hestia.
The Anathema Psykana was tethered by a heavy iron chain, locked to a heavy technological collar that bit into her throat. A Red Corsair in Terminator armour held the heavy chain to control her.
Hestia's scalp had been shaved bare, and driven into her skull were dozens of crude, heavy metal nails... cybernetic cortical implants. Thick cables trailed from the implants into a messy and faulty control unit bolted to her spine.
The Butcher's Nails.
They were cruel, chaotic Dark Mechanicus knock-offs, designed specifically to force a Blank to murder her own sister. 'Normal' Butcher's Nails greatly boosted a warrior's adrenaline, resulting in greater strength and aggression in battle. Under the perverse influence of the implants, killing proved exhilarating in a way nothing else could be, and the nails played a neurochemical game to make it so.
When the Nails activated, they stunted the production of the neurotransmitter serotonin in the human brain to encourage instinctive aggression, just as they deadened all other forms of emotional response and neuroelectrical activity to all parts of the brain save for that which regulated the flow of adrenaline.
In essence, any person implanted with the Butcher's Nails could only feel pleasure when engaged in acts of violence and murder.
Blood poured from Hestia's eyes, ears, and nose. Her mouth was unhinged in a silent, agonising scream, her Vow of Tranquillity not being broken, even as her mind was shredded.
The Nails made her fight, and they used it to make her kill her own sister.
Hestia lunged. She brought her greatblade down with terrifying, feral speed that was higher than what it had been her entire life. Alaya blocked narrowly, but the sheer force drove her to the deck. Hestia hacked again and again, little to no discipline, no technique, just pure, technologically engineered torture translated into rage.
Alaya's pauldron split. Her thigh was opened to the bone. She had opportunities to kill Hestia, but she was prevented from doing so, as every timeevery time she did, a Corsair Astartes would intervene and knock her back. This was not about the two Blanks at all.
It was about Gerhard.
Daemons crowded the edges of the platform, kept at bay by the Sisters' overlapping null-fields, revelling in the cruelty and cheering loudly.
"A SOUL IS SUCH A DELICIOUS THING, WOULDN'T YOU SAY, ANOMALY?" Fateweaver mocked. "BUT THE FLESH HAS SO MANY SECRETS, TOO."
Gerhard went entirely still. [Gamer's Mind] held the Warp at bay, while keeping his logical thinking intact, but the icy, endless rage flooding his veins couldn't be stopped.
"Gerhard," Guilliman warned over the vox. "Maintain formation."
Hestia's blade came down again. Alaya caught it, but her good arm broke. The blade stopped centimetres from her throat. Across the gulf of the chamber, Alaya's last remaining open eye found Gerhard. Her fingers twitched.
Gerhard banished his shotgun to his inventory.
"Lencillus."
"I am with you," the Custodian answered, his spear already humming with power as they cut through dozens of Warp spawn.
"The portal is the objective," Guilliman ordered. "If this army is trapped here, Terra falls."
Gerhard no longer looked back. His rage was rising exponentially.
"Keep the army moving, then."
"Gerhard--"
Gerhard broke into a sprint.
[Mana Bullet - Bolter Round]
Gerhard tore a hole through the masses. Daemons caught in his blank presence collapsed into screaming heaps of fleshy gore. He hit the first line of Red Corsairs like a meteor, his Anathame carving through ceramite, bone, and flesh with ease, while the mana bullets mowed them down by the hundreds at a time.
He grabbed a Bloodletter by its horns, weakening it with his [Blank] presence and used it as a battering ram to clear the ledge.
Millions of bolter rounds hit him, shattering his Mana Shields one by one. He didn't care, however, only intent on reaching the two Silent Sisters before it was too late.
Lencillus was a golden shadow at his side, executing whatever survived Gerhard's initial impact or came close to him. He had killed so many daemons and Chaos Space Marines, but kept doing so, as he needed to keep Gerhard alive at all costs.
In Gerhard, Lencillus saw the hope for humanity.
Kairos Fateweaver hurled dozens of magic spears of blue fire through the air. Gerhard let them hit his blank field, causing the sorcery to evaporate into harmless energy. But the attack had been a feint. Behind it, heavy bolters opened fire.
Gerhard grabbed the corpses of a Chaos Marine from the floor and controlled them using telekinesis, using the dead meat as shields as he charged into the firing line, dropping the ruined meat-shield only to bury his sword in the gunners' throats.
[Divergent Fist]
Blue mana arced around his armoured fist as he punched a Chaos Terminator in the chest, launching the massive traitor backwards through three ranks of daemons and into the abyss, while he cut through three more with the Anathame.
Gerhard launched himself off the broken edge of the bridge. [Flight] stabilised him mid-air and allowed him to fly forward. Autocannon fire tracked him through the air, clipping his side and managing to chip his HP, but he didn't stop.
He landed on the back of a leaping Screamer of Tzeentch, slashing through it with the Anathame and absorbing its life and energy to heal himself and regenerate his MP back to full and using its dissolving body as a springboard to cross the final gap to the platform.
Hestia had continued to fight Aleya and had finally disarmed her, quite literally in fact. She raised her blade for the killing blow when Gerhard arrived.
Gerhard tackled her like a missile, knocking them both across the blood-strained floor. Hestia, having lost her mind and now fully feral and rage-drunk, recovered with manic strength, slashing wildly at his visor with her broken blade.
Gerhard moved his head to the side and caught her wrist. She thrashed against him, slamming her forehead into his helmet, without caring about her own health, breaking her skull and tearing at her own arm joints to get free.
"Wake up!" he roared. There was nothing in her eyes but the Butcher's Nails.
[Observe]
Atarine Hestia – Lv.78
|Rank: Silent Judge
STR: 130
VIT: 10
DEX: 106
INT: 55
WIS: 120
LUK: 0
| Conditions: Butcher's Nails, Catastrophic cortical trauma, Cerebral haemorrhage, Berserk.
| Estimated survival: 43 seconds.
--
If he ripped the Nails out now, she would die instantly. But he could knock her out and then heal her and--
The Red Corsair holding her chain yanked hard, ripping Hestia from Gerhard's grip.
Gerhard took out his Bonesword and hurled it through the air. It sliced through the air and severed the Terminator's arm cleanly at the elbow, draining energy and life from him at the same time. Before the traitor could scream, Lencillus dropped onto the platform and took his head off with a sweep of his Guardian Spear.
Gerhard grabbed the iron chain and shattered it. Hestia threw herself at him again, attacking with all the few drops of strength she had remaining. He slipped inside her guard, pinned her arms to her sides, and wrestled her to the deck. She convulsed violently as the Nails punished her for being restrained.
[Heal]
[Heal]
[Heal]
He materialised a high-grade recovery potion in his hand; it wouldn't cure her, not from this, but it would buy her body a few more precious minutes.
Alaya dragged herself over, using her one arm to pin her sister's thrashing legs. DO IT, her single eye seemed to tell. Already way ahead of her, Gerhard took off the cork on the potion and brought it to her mouth.
However, in that very moment, Hestia's torso shone brightly, her thorax bloated and then...
BOOOOOOMMM---!!!
A bomb that had been implanted into her chest detonated wildly, sending chunks of her flesh throughout the area and hurling Gerhard backwards. Shock spread through his body, but thanks to [Gamer's Mind] he managed to concentrate and push himself back up.
[DANGER SENSE]
Gerhard's senses roared at him at that moment.
...
Time seemed to stop for him. His entire field of vision was eclipsed by red, and for a moment he saw his life flash before his eyes. [Gamer's Mind] allowed him to see clearly, and yet, in that moment, he saw death and rage personified.
A massive fist, gripping a Chainaxe, filled Gerhard's vision.
...
BOOOOMM---!!!
The massive fist backhanded Gerhard as if brushing away an annoying insect.
The impact hit with the kinetic force greater than that of a macro-cannon shell.
Every remaining Mana Shield shattered instantly. The legendary-grade Praetor armour crumpled inward, crushing Gerhard's ribs into dust. His body was launched off the platform so fast it blurred, flying across the void before slamming into the fortress's wall on the other side.
There was no immediate pain, Gerhard felt. It was as if reality was displaced for a moment. And then... after a second, it all came crashing down. He felt like his body was crushed flat.
HP: 5,941 -> 4,025 -> 3,111 -> 1,981 -> 183 -> ... -> 0
[Critical damage]
Gerhard's heart ruptured, and his brain went dark.
[Blank forcefully deactivated]
The suffocating void that had carved a wound in the Warp vanished in a heartbeat. Chaos rushed back in like a breaking dam, filling the space that Gerhard had left behind. Sorcerous fires roared back to life, greater than before. Daemons that had been choking on the emptiness screamed in sudden, ecstatic triumph.
"GERHARD!" Lencillus shouted.
There was no answer. Gerhard's ruined body peeled away from the cratered column and fell, slamming onto a lower access ledge. His neck looked like it was snapped. His spine was powder, his lungs probably filled with his own blood.
In Lencillus' eyes, Gerhard was dead.
He turned around, looking at the monstrosity that had done this.
Skarbrand.
He kept walking forward. He was a walking mountain of brass and scarred, furious chaos rage. Fire poured from his maw with every exhalation, his aura of rage driving the surviving Red Corsairs into a mindless frenzy. He fixed his burning eyes on Guilliman and the fleeing loyalists.
Marshal Amalrich, having seen what had happened, ignored the plan and didn't hesitate. The Emperor's Champion threw himself off the bridge, roaring a challenge and endless curses as he drove his Black Sword toward the Bloodthirster, disappearing under a tidal wave of Khornate daemons.
Blood sprayed as a savage melee broke out. For a moment, the logical thinking Primarch considered diverting his own forces to help Amalrich's and, most importantly, Gerhard, but with Skarbrand storming closer and Daemons swarming on every front, there was no time.
He had to accept reality as it was now and make sure that he succeeded.
With a heavy heart, Guilliman barked orders through the vox, steadying the Ultramarines and their Primogenitors with the sheer force of his will.
"AAAAHHHHH!!"
Amalrich hurled himself into battle with mighty Skarbrand, fighting right next to Lencillus, who was enraged beyond belief. Amalrich's black blade and Lencillus' Guardian Spear clashed with the Bloodthirster's massive Chainaxes again and again.
.
With Grey Knight Voldus and his Dreadknights leading, and the relentless spectres of the Legion of the Damned taking the position of the rearguard, the crusade slowly closed on the webway entrance. Cawl and his Skitarii mowed down rank after rank of Daemons.
Novamarine Vindicators blasted a trio of bridges that the enemy were using in an attempt to outflank them, sending flailing Pink and Blue Horrors plunging into the void. Greyfax and Celestine fought side by side, hacking down a trio of Tzeentchian Heralds in as many minutes.
The Harlequins were everywhere at once, sprinting along walkways, hopping between bridges, hacking and slashing with breathtaking skill and speed as they continued their strange dance of battle around the loyalist forces.
That was when Skarbrand gave a deafening roar of fury and took a running leap. The cursed Bloodthirster jumped across the gulf that separated him from the loyalists. Boiling blood flowed from two terrible wounds in his chest.
Guilliman's eyes widened as he saw Amalrich's black blade driven into the Bloodthirster's breast and another long slash at his side, from where Lencillus wounded him. It was the only remaining sign of the Emperor's Champion—a bloody atonement for his failings on Cadia. Lencillus was nowhere to be seen as well.
Skarbrand landed in front of Guilliman with a massive crash. His hooves created sparks as he slammed down on the bridge amidst the Legion of the Damned.
He swung his two massive Chainaxes, Slaughter and Carnage, left and right, smashing the fire-wreathed Legion of the Damned aside, sending their broken bodies flying into the darkness below.
The rearmost warriors of Guilliman's force were starting to turn back. Tanks and battle-brothers alike were affected and lost to the Bloodthirster's madness. This was Skarbrand's passive presence, which induced madness and endless rage and was going to ruin the escape, and with it the entire crusade, in its final stretches.
Realising that in another moment, all control was about to slip from his grasp, Guilliman commanded all the remaining Imperials to make for the portal.
"Make for the webway portal! That's a command!" he roared.
The Primarch waltzed in the opposite direction and took position at the head of the bridge, standing tall with the Emperor's blade drawn as all who could still follow his orders made their way towards the webway portal.
Infantry and vehicles moved past him, following the Harlequins into the webway, until only Sicarius and Celestine remained, waiting by the portal's entrance for the Primarch.
The Primarch was about to clash with Skarbrand.
.
Far below, on a dark, forgotten ledge, lay the body of Gerhard. Barely a minute had passed since he had been swatted out of the way and reminded of what reality he found himself in. He had been caught off guard, which was rather embarrassing.
Despite his preparation, he had lost in the blink of an eye. One faulty move, one minor mistake and lack of attention had ended his undefeated run.
However, luckily for him, the [Blank] skill had deactivated forcefully, which allowed the Warp to affect him and the skills which used the Warp to activate again.
But for a fraction of a second, a flicker of pure, golden light ignited in Gerhard's dead eyes. It wasn't the blue light of his Mana, though the colour green was mixed into it as well.
*Thump Thump*
Air hissed into his lungs, and he opened his mouth with a gasp. The blue system flickered back into existence.
HP: 0 / 7,781
HP: 100 / 7,781
[**** *****: Active]
[Blessing of Gork and Mork: Active]
Gerhard opened his eyes, staring blankly at the underside of the stone bridge far above him. Memory flooded back. The red hand. The impact. The void.
He couldn't move his arms. [Observe] triggered reflexively, targeting the monstrous entity roaring above him.
The System window glitched and shuddered.
--
|Skarbrand the Exiled One – Lv.??
|HP: ???
|MP: ???
|A Bloodthirster, a Greater Daemon of the Blood God Khorne. Skarbrand is wrath incarnate, a creature of murderous violence unleashed from the Realm of Chaos to reap skulls and souls for his lord in a storm of rage.
| Once Skarbrand was the greatest of Khorne's generals, the mightiest of all Bloodthirsters, until, due to the machinations of Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, his rage was stoked to uncontrollable levels, and he had the temerity to actually strike at the Blood God himself.
| For such a betrayal, Khorne exiled his Bloodthirster from the Blood God's Domain for all time.
| Frustrated by his exile, Skarbrand has now embarked upon a campaign of bloodshed and slaughter that dwarfs any that he engaged in before. Yet though he now serves Khorne more loyally than ever, the Lord of Skulls has no mercy in his heart, and Skarbrand is no closer to returning to his home.
---
Gerhard stared at the blue text. He had slaughtered Chaos Marines with his bare hands. He had torn daemons apart and walked through sorcery thanks to the [Blank] skill, like it was rain.
Skarbrand hadn't even used a weapon. He had swatted him.
"Well... it's time."
He looked at the Status Points he had saved up to this point.
SP: 373
His finger moved over his status window and started distributing the points as he should have done before coming here. But now it was time. This was why you saved those points. Nothing he had gone through up to this point came close to the danger he was in right now.
STR: 120 -> 200
VIT: 122 -> 200
DEX: 104 -> 200
INT: 255 -> 326
WIS: 162 -> 200
LUK: 40 -> 50