"Dead?
Truly a worthless fool…"
The burly Keeper of Slaanesh had only just arrived.
Seeing Kali'en's fearful expression, his own look twisted with disdain. To him, these low-ranked creatures were useless beyond measure.
"Let me take the vanguard. You wastes cannot shoulder this burden—you disgrace the Dark Prince!"
So declared the hulking Keeper of Slaanesh.
Were it another enemy, perhaps he would have shown caution. But now their target was Commorragh, the Webway bastion of the Drukhari.
Those wretches should be grateful if they did not collapse into quivering heaps at the sight of the Dark Prince's daemons.
And yet, in this case, one of their own had been defeated by the Drukhari—an insult beyond all insults.
Shameful!
"Cowards, let me wash away this disgrace…"
The burly Keeper strode toward the warp-rent fissure, intent on breaching the veil to slaughter the Dark Eldar.
"Wait. It's dangerous over there."
Kali'en hesitated, but still chose to warn the reckless brute.
His well-meant counsel was met only with contempt.
"You think I—one of the top five hundred Keepers of Slaanesh—would cower like you before black-skinned monkeys? Save your breath!"
With scorn, the hulking Keeper disappeared into the warp fissure.
Kali'en and the other newly arrived Keepers fixed their gazes on the rift, waiting for what would emerge.
If the situation proved favorable, they would attack together.
But the veil remained utterly silent, as if a stagnant pool.
Anxiety crept over them.
Had he too fallen?
Hummmm—
Suddenly, the rift rippled with warp-light, drawing every Keeper's attention.
"Hhhsss— Damn… human warrior… save me!"
The burly Keeper stumbled out, his face swollen and battered, snot and tears mixing with blood. His body bore hideous rents, limbs torn away.
It was clear he was gravely wounded—and terrified.
Through the rift, the other Keepers could feel it: the violent aura of Khorne's blessing. Whoever that unknown warrior was, he had gone berserk.
"Hold me—no!"
The battered Keeper had scarcely dragged half his body free when a tremendous force seized him from behind, tearing him off his feet.
Before the others could react, the broken daemon was yanked back into the fissure, his screams fading into the warp.
Only two heavy smears of blood remained on the stone.
His horrid cries left the host in silence. Even Keepers of Slaanesh felt unease.
Perhaps Kali'en had been right—there was real danger inside.
Better to wait for reinforcements.
Kali'en looked down at the bloody trails, sparing a silent thought for his fellow.
That one would not return. And if he did, body and soul alike would be shattered under the torment of a human warrior wielding Khorne's pure favor.
In short—finished.
More Keepers and daemon hosts soon arrived at the site. Yet all remained outside the fissure, unwilling to be the first inside.
The only strategy now was to wait until the horde had gathered, then overwhelm the enemy with an endless tide.
Soon, news of the contested Webway reached the domain of Slaanesh.
The Dark Prince commanded Shalaxi Helbane to resolve the matter at once and win this opening clash.
Within the Warp
Several Bloodthirsters roared in helpless rage, their bodies bound tight by the writhing tendrils of a cloak made flesh.
"So even the Blood God's champions prove feeble…"
Shalaxi Helbane stood proud, her skin flawless as marble, her form impossibly graceful.
She bore four arms: two ending in venom-dripping crimson claws; the others wielding spear and shield—a perfect union of offense and defense.
Her grand cloak, a gift from Slaanesh Himself, writhed as deadly tentacles of delight.
This huntress was among the Dark Prince's most favored Keepers, a consummate duelist and stalker, ever eager to bring war into rival domains.
She had already slain many of the highest-ranked daemons of other powers—including more than a few of Khorne's champions.
Now, she faced three high-ranked Bloodthirsters at once, defeating them with ease.
Pinning one beneath her foot, she drove her spear through its heart, ending it in a single, cruel strike.
"Such tedious combat…"
Shalaxi's voice dripped with boredom. "You are weak beyond measure. How dare you challenge me?"
"Blood for the Blood God!"
Not far away, the former First Bloodthirster An'ggrath dragged himself upright.
Ignoring his wounds, he heaved his axe down on Helbane, carving a deep wound across her shoulder.
"You have some skill—but that is all."
With a single kick, Shalaxi hurled An'ggrath back. Her tongue snaked out to lick her wound—dismissive, uncaring.
Moments later, she struck him down once more, driving her spear point slowly into his chest, savoring his agony.
An'ggrath wheezed, clutching at the spearhead, but could not stop its piercing advance.
He forced out a final growl:
"Helbane… I am not Khorne's strongest. I cannot represent His might. The First Bloodthirster… Ka'Bandha… will end your arrogance!"
With that, the former First was dragged back into the Brass Throne, his last hope cast upon his old rival, Ka'Bandha.
Shalaxi sneered as she ended him:
"Let us hope this 'Supreme Bloodthirster' is as mighty as you claim, and not just another braggart. Either way—he too will fall beneath me."
The defeat of An'ggrath darkened the Blood God's realm. Shalaxi Helbane, the Dark Prince's own champion, had humiliated them utterly.
Even Khorne Himself suffered the mockery of Slaanesh—a wound deeper than any blade.
The Blood God punished His defeated servants with savage wrath.
Now all Khorne's hosts placed their faith in the Supreme Bloodthirster Ka'Bandha, praying he would crush Helbane and restore their honor.
But to their dismay, Ka'Bandha was striding not toward Helbane—but toward a distant Webway gate at the edge of Commorragh.
At the same time, Helbane received her master's command.
With her at the front marched the twin Keepers known as the Claw of Slaanesh, Dexyssa, and the Voice of Slaanesh, Synnyssa, leading legions toward the Redemption Satellite Zone—a frontier gate of Commorragh.
More daemonic hosts gathered there in preparation.
If they could not yet breach Commorragh's inner Webway, then seizing this border zone would be a worthy triumph—and a beachhead for future invasions.
Soon, the Keepers massed at the rent received Helbane's order:
They would strike together, seize ground, and shape it into terrain fit for endless daemonic hordes.
The Redemption Satellite Zone would become one of Slaanesh's principal bridges for the assault on Commorragh and the material realm.
Days Later
The warp fissure had grown vast under constant daemonic feeding, wide enough to admit countless legions at once.
"At last—the day of the assault…"
Kali'en gripped his massive twisted shield tightly, as though preparing to storm some dire citadel.
Strange, he thought—for he was the invader.
He would have preferred to wait for Helbane to arrive before committing to battle. That would have been safer.
But Helbane despised delay. She had never yet found a fortress she could not break. And so, her command was swift:
Attack at once.
Now Kali'en and the others were being driven like cattle onto the battlefield—there was no way to refuse.
For to deny Lady Helbane meant a fate far worse.
Kali'en remained cautious.
He did not stand at the very front, but kept himself within the middle ranks, surrounding himself with daemon behemoths and shield-bearing units.
He even abandoned his pair of venom-dripping blades in favor of arming himself with a Shield of Ecstasy and layered chaos-wards.
Such cowardly prudence drew only scorn and laughter from the other Keepers.
But Kali'en did not rebuke them—he endured the mockery.
He had seen with his own eyes the grisly fates of two of his comrades. He knew such defenses were necessary.
Once those arrogant fools actually stepped through the rift, they would regret not having done the same.
Drawing a deep breath, Kali'en advanced with the daemon legions into the other side of the warp fissure.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—
In an instant, they were engulfed in the furnace of war. Barrages of artillery thundered down upon them like a storm.
"Dark Prince, grant me delight…"
The Keeper raised his shields against the blast-waves, staring ahead at four or five towering Imperial Titans. The sheer oppression of their presence was crushing.
He watched helplessly as less wary daemons were blasted apart, limbs shorn from bodies.
At the heart of the Redemption Arena, scores of Titans of many races encircled the rift, pouring down relentless firepower.
The bombardment was over-saturated, designed so that no inch of battlefield escaped annihilation.
Even if the daemons broke through, still more fortress-guns and the united armies of the Arena waited behind.
The ferocity of the firestorm stunned the host—but more daemons pressed through the fissure, blocking any retreat.
They could only charge forward into the guns, suffering hideous losses.
Kali'en hid behind larger Keepers, head ducked, shields locked, occasionally unleashing warpfire to silence an enemy emplacement.
In his charge he glimpsed them—the two unfortunates who had vanished before.
Their mutilated husks, nearly stripped of all flesh, were chained to the breastplates of a Titan, their screams broadcast through vox-horns.
The wails of their own kind tore at daemon morale.
"Curses! They are turning the Dark Prince's own torments against us!"
Kali'en snarled.
Such hellish wailing was meant to be the daemons of Slaanesh tormenting others—yet now the enemy wielded it against them.
What humiliation!
Suddenly, his eyes caught a familiar figure—
The Daemon-Ripper, the executioner who had torn two Keepers apart.
At once Kali'en ducked his head, raising his massive shield to conceal himself.
He dared not draw that one's attention.
Better to survive than be torn to shreds.
So he focused instead on directing the charge, urging the legion forward.
Victory must come.
No matter the strength of the foe's fire, with a warp rift open, daemons would never lack for numbers.
An endless tide would wash away everything.
No one could stand forever.
Hummm—
A blaze of holy light erupted, like a miniature sun.
The sacred brilliance vaporized ranks of daemons in an instant, granting the defenders a precious reprieve.
...
Redemption Arena — Command Chamber
"They're deploying holy weapons already… we won't last much longer…"
Eden gazed out through the crystal wall, watching as endless black tides of daemons crashed against the Arena's bulwarks.
Even when small packs broke through, the Kabalite militias and citizens of the Redemption Satellite Zone cut them down.
It was total war across the entire zone. After the "performances" had ended, spectators were evacuated, and every Tyranid bioweapon pressed into service.
By contract, those Tyranids were never the trainers' property, only licensed for use.
Now, any losses would be reimbursed: the Arena would reclaim the biomass and regrow new beasts—complete with memories, scars, even personality remnants intact.
Eden clenched his fists. "Dark Prince damn you…"
Watching the Arena's destruction pained him. The resources needed for repair would be staggering.
If the line broke, the residential districts beyond would fall. He might lose the territory itself.
Now he understood why even the Emperor Himself had struggled against rift incursions. Even a small tear was this overwhelming.
As long as daemons poured through, there was no chance to seal it.
The hosts of the Warp were endless. Each Ruinous Power commanded at least 888,999 named Greater Daemons—and nameless hordes beyond counting.
These were not lesser fiends, but true powers no mere mortal army could withstand.
Without a Golden Throne, there was only one way to hold the tide—
Use daemons against daemons.
"If our allies don't arrive soon, this front will collapse…"
Eden sighed.
He had already received word that the Supreme Bloodthirster Ka'Bandha was coming. He had also called for aid from the Plague God's domain, sending word to the sly traitor and now-Chief Great Unclean One, Barag the Glutton.
Barag had agreed to bring Nurglite forces—but then fell silent.
Eden's plan had been to hold the line, then draw the daemons into Commorragh proper using the Overlord's ascension scheme and the Hope Primarch's gambit.
But now—he doubted they would last long enough.
In the midst of his worry, a signal came from Baal the Destroyer. It was news of his half-brother, the Supreme Bloodthirster Ka'Bandha.
"He… he'll make it here?"
Eden looked toward the fissure, brow furrowed.
...
In the Warp
Baal sent his message while whipping his brass chariot to a furious pace, wheels glowing red with heat, leaving the army far behind.
Ka'Bandha himself had severed Khorne's summons, yet he too was grim with urgency.
He had boasted he would humble Helbane and deny her any triumph.
If the Slaaneshi won glory here, would not the Supreme Bloodthirster become a laughingstock?
He cast his gaze toward Commorragh, toward the Asurmen's heir, and his scowl deepened.
"Faster… we must reach the battle in time!"
Baal strained every ounce of strength from his beasts, replying:
"My lord, this is already the utmost speed!"
"At this rate, we'll be too late…"
Realization struck Ka'Bandha.
He would not miss the fight. He refused.
With a roar, the Supreme Bloodthirster hurled himself from the chariot.
He struck the ground like a meteor, shattering the earth, rolling across the ash plains.
But in moments he was on his feet again, sprinting.
Through the warp he blazed like a comet, each stride shaking the realm.
His breath heaved, his eyes burned crimson, his will unyielding:
"I… will reach the battle…"
BOOM!
Several Titans fell. The battle hung by a thread.
Eden's heart sank as word came at last:
The Supreme Bloodthirster is coming—running with reckless abandon.
Emotion swelled within him. What greater proof of kinship? What greater ally?
Suddenly his gaze lit up as the fissure flared bright.
"They've arrived!"
...
In the Warp
The Keepers of Slaanesh and their hosts exulted.
Only a few more waves, and the Arena's defenses would shatter.
Victory was within their grasp.
ROAR!!!
A monstrous bellow split the skies.
The Slaaneshi host looked up as flame devoured the heavens, clouds of fire spreading like night.
Through the inferno strode a vast, scarred daemon, cloak of skulls billowing into eternity, his presence crushing all beneath it.
Silence fell upon the decadent horde. Even their breath caught.
The Supreme Bloodthirster—
The Great Skull-Taker.
The Slayer who defied Tzeentch.
The Flame-Bearer of the Damned.
The Eternal Nemesis of the Savior.
Ka'Bandha had come.
His chest heaved, his gaze blood-red and merciless as he faced the legions of Slaanesh.
"You… are ready to die?"
Alone, the Supreme Bloodthirster prepared to hurl himself against the entire host of Slaanesh.
(End of Chapter)
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