Chapter 182: Phase Two — The Sorcerer's Hubris
Egghead and his squad sprinted through the darkness of the staging bay, rifles barking as they cleared paths through the gathering Poxwalkers. Sweat stung their eyes behind their bird-masks, but the promise of the Spire kept their boots moving.
Suddenly, a private pointed a trembling finger toward the massive central pillar of the well. "BOSS! LOOK! THERE'S THE RUNE!!"
Engraved into the plasteel was a secondary circular sigil, pulsing with a sick, leprous light. It was surrounded by black, oily runes that seemed to bleed down the metal.
Egghead didn't ask for a tactical assessment. "I don't care what it is! Melt it!! UNLOAD!!"
The squad leveled their Lasguns, and a blizzard of ruby light slammed into the rune.
[HUD NOTIFICATION: ANCHOR DESTROYED]
Target 'Birth' Neutralized.
A violent psychic shockwave erupted from the pillar. The surrounding Poxwalkers collapsed instantly, their Warp-leash snapped.
Back in the center of the bay, the Antler-Fiend let out a shriek of agony. Its rusted bell shattered into a cloud of black shards, dissolving into a pool of foul-smelling pus. The monster staggered, its transhuman strength withering as one-third of its power vanished.
"Birth and Decay are gone!" Kian Voss roared, his voice echoing through the vox-grille. "Now, only Death remains!!"
Kian's primary weapon was a scorched ruin, and he had no more grenades. He reached for the All-Steel Fire-Axe tucked into his belt. He pulled his canteen of Sanctified Spirits and poured the final few drops across the blade.
SHRIT.
He struck his lighter. The axe ignited with a brilliant, solar-gold spiritual flame. Kian raised the burning weapon and began his advance.
"Close-quarters execution... another classic 40k trope," Kian whispered.
He lunged. The Antler-Fiend, reeling from the feedback of the destroyed rune, tried to raise its wooden sword to parry.
Kian didn't swing for a heavy blow. With his Strength at 30 and his Mental Clarity at 40, he was moving with the speed of an Astartes. He performed a tactical feint, pulling the axe back at the last second.
The Fiend's wooden blade hit empty air.
Kian whirled, using the momentum to drive the burning axe directly into the monster's distended gut.
SQUELCH.
The blade buried itself deep, the holy fire cauterizing the rot from the inside out. The Fiend shrieked, a fountain of black bile and steaming intestines spilling onto the floor. The monster staggered, losing its balance as its center of gravity shifted.
Kian didn't stop. He delivered a series of rapid, brutal strikes:
Second swing: Smashed the left shoulder, shattering the collarbone.
Third swing: Cleaved into the ribs, exposing the rotted heart.
Fourth swing: Hewed through the elongated neck.
The human head on the chest was laughing now—a sound of pure, ecstatic relief. "YES! CUT! KILL ME! END THE CYCLE! HAHAHAHA!!"
The Fiend's antlered head, however, was in a state of primal panic. It raised its hand to block Kian's fifth strike, but then, the "Birth" of a second miracle occurred.
A kilometer away, Ash's squad found the final rune.
[HUD NOTIFICATION: FINAL ANCHOR DESTROYED]
Target 'Death' Neutralized. The Cycle is broken.
The wooden sword in the Fiend's hand didn't just break—it disintegrated into sawdust. Without the anchor, the daemon's physical manifestation could no longer resist the laws of the Materium.
Kian saw his opening. He raised the axe one last time and brought it down with the force of a falling star.
CRACK.
The antlered head was split down the center. Green, glowing brain-matter sprayed the floor.
A final, violent psychic detonation erupted from the corpse. Kian was hit by a wave of kinetic force that felt like a charging truck. He was launched fifteen meters backward, slamming into the base of a PDF hauler.
The impact nearly knocked the wind from his lungs, but Kian began to laugh. He felt it—the final, dying scream of a daemon soul being permanently erased from reality. By the Emperor's light and his own axe, he had killed a Never-born.
"Voss! Boss! You alive?!"
Kian looked up to see Egghead and Ash running back through the smoke, their rifles leveled at the shadows.
"I'm still on the server, boys," Kian wheezed, pushing himself up. "Don't stop. Clear the trash."
But then, the Warp-rime on the floor began to thicken. The ice grew dark and jagged.
"Throne... it's not over," Kian whispered.
From the pile of rotted meat that had been the Fiend, a figure rose.
The daemon head was gone. The stomach was a ruin. But the human head on the chest was no longer weeping. It was staring at Kian with a look of terrifying, cold lucidity.
"I can... I can feel my own blood again," the noble whispered. his legs began to levitate, his broken body drifting six inches off the floor. "The parasite is gone... but the power remains. I think... I think I don't want to die anymore. I like this 'Godhood'."
Kian cursed. Phase Two. The Sorcerer.
The host was a Rogue Psyker. Without the daemon suppressing him, his raw power was now focused and lethal.
Kian grabbed a discarded PDF Sub-stubber, slammed a magazine in, and leveled it at the floating freak.
"Listen, buddy. You're a biological hazard and a narrative mistake. You killed millions. You don't get a 'Redemption Arc.' You just get a bullet."
"I am the Master of the Reach!" the Sorcerer shrieked.
He raised his hands, his fingers forming a triangle.
GRAVITY SPIKE.
The air in the staging bay turned to liquid lead. Kian, Egghead, and every soldier in the room were slammed into the floor-plates by a massive increase in local gravity.
Kian felt his ribs groan under the weight. He couldn't move his arms. He couldn't even lift his chin.
The Sorcerer, still floating, used his telekinetic grip to snatch Kian's sub-stubber from the floor. He leveled the barrel at Kian's head, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"You brought the fire," the Sorcerer whispered. "Now, you bring the silence."
"BOSS, LOOK OUT!!"
Egghead, driven by the 1,000,000-scrip promise and Kian's previous salvation, performed a feat of pure, adrenaline-fueled strength. He threw himself across Kian's body just as the stubber roared.
DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!!
The 8.9mm slugs raked Egghead's back. Even with his Grade-4 armor, the close-range impacts were too much. The Corporal shrieked as his life-bar plummeted into the black.
The Sorcerer prepared to fire again, his face a mask of manic divinity. The squad was pinned. They were all going to die on the floor, crushed by the gravity.
"SACRILEGE!! FOUL SORCERY!!"
A new voice boomed through the staging bay—a voice of such thunderous, ancient authority that the gravity field itself seemed to shudder.
The heavy thud of a brass staff echoed on the floor.
The Canon-Preceptor strode into the bay. He was a vision of iron and light, his bird-mask glowing with an inner golden flame. Behind him was Sister Theresa, clutching the shrine, and forty Battle-Priests singing the Hymn of the Unyielding Will.
The Canon stepped into the Gravity Zone. He was hit by the crushing weight and dropped to one knee, his armor screeching under the pressure.
Kian watched from under Egghead's body, certain the Bishop was about to be flattened.
But then, the old man let out a roar of such soul-deep defiance it shook the vats.
"IN THE NAME OF THE MASTER OF MANKIND... I. COMMAND. YOU. TO. STAND. DOWN!!!"
With a sound like shattering glass, the Bishop forced his legs straight. He stood tall in the center of the gravity storm, his golden aura expanding until the floor began to glow.
The High Bishop was finally showing the Sump why the Nobility still feared his name.
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