The ethereal light of the warp teleportation dissipated. Before Cybia could even recover from the disorientation of the transit, she instantly heard a resounding war cry:
"For the Emperor!"
She looked toward the source of the sound, her eyes instantly widening in sheer shock.
A silver-haired woman was violently crashing into the heretics' positions with unimaginably heroic momentum. A faint golden halo lingered above her head, a pair of pristine white wings grew from her back, and she wielded a relic shield in one hand while swinging a chainsword in the other.
Wherever she passed, the very air shimmered with faint golden light. The traitorous heretics charged forward in endless waves, yet they were not even capable of withstanding a single strike from her, leaving behind only a floor carpeted in mutilated corpses.
Having conducted thorough investigations prior to boarding this cruiser, Cybia naturally recognized the woman's identity. However, it was precisely because she recognized her that she fell into such profound astonishment.
Was this not Canoness Lucia of the Order of Our Martyred Lady?
Had she... become a Living Saint?!
"Cease your gawking!"
The black-robed Custodian roared, snapping the Inquisitor back to reality.
The two had materialized adjacent to a traitor barricade, where several Chaos Space Marines were already raising their bolters, preparing to unleash fire upon their sudden manifestation.
Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh—
Blinding flashes of light tore through the air as plasma spheres and melta beams carved through the atmosphere, carrying the faint, acrid stench of ozone as they violently struck home.
Before those Chaos Space Marines could even pull their triggers, they were instantly gunned down into the deck.
Only then did the black-robed Custodian notice that this traitor barricade had already suffered catastrophic damage:
A massive pile of cultist corpses, dismantled heavy weapon emplacements, and even the fallen bodies of numerous Chaos Space Marines lay haphazardly strewn about. Every single form was violently mutilated, covered entirely in the horrific burns and craters of heavy bombardment.
And in the distance, from the direction of the suppressing fire, a young man was slowly walking forward. Thirteen firearms of varying patterns levitated alongside him, spewing munitions with terrifying rate of fire and pinpoint accuracy, relentlessly suppressing the entire position.
"An unsanctioned psyker?"
The thought flashed through the black-robed Custodian's mind, only to be immediately dismissed. "Incorrect. The control of psychic phenomena should not be this microscopic, and I sense absolutely no fluctuations of the immaterium. Furthermore, the machine spirits are unimaginably exalted... Just what in the galaxy is that thing?"
A thunderous, bestial roar shattered his train of thought.
The previously solid deck plating began to tremble violently as a grotesquely twisted, hulking behemoth appeared at the far end of the corridor, charging toward the four of them with terrifying velocity!
The heavy behemoth was a fused abomination of machinery and mutated flesh. The purple armor plating covering its bulk was etched with blasphemous runes, while its arms mounted horrifically savage lightning claws and an assault cannon. In the midst of its frenzied charge, it crushed cultists who were too slow to dodge like mere speed bumps, turning them into scarlet smears upon the deck.
The levitating guns surrounding Rowan immediately concentrated their fire upon this monstrosity, but the effect was minimal, the barrage largely absorbed and deflected by its immensely thick armor!
A Helbrute!
This singular term surfaced almost simultaneously within the minds of all four individuals present.
This engine of war, forged by the forces of Chaos through profoundly blasphemous rituals, was the direct equivalent of an Astartes Dreadnought; its combat capabilities could absolutely not be underestimated.
"I shall take it!"
Lucia barked a low command. Spreading her wings, her form shot forward like an arrow released from its bowstring, proactively charging to meet the seemingly unstoppable Helbrute.
BOOM!!!
The relic storm shield and the massive lightning claws violently collided head-on, erupting into overlapping shockwaves that blasted outward from the point of impact!
An ear-piercing shriek of grinding metal echoed as the previously momentum-fueled Helbrute's mechanical feet gouged two deep trenches into the deck plating. Its lightning claws were knocked violently upward; it was blindingly obvious that it was losing the contest of sheer strength against the Greater Daemon of the Emperor.
The Helbrute, driven to absolute madness by an eternity of torturous agony, had just attempted to rally and counterattack when a tyrannical psychic shockwave unleashed by the Inquisitor crushed its mounted assault cannon into a twisted lump of scrap iron.
Rowan's assault arrived at nearly the exact same instant. Thirteen different weapons opened fire in unison, perfectly impacting the Helbrute's shoulder joint and momentarily stalling the momentum of its lightning claws.
And Lucia, a veteran of countless brutal campaigns, naturally would not let such an opening slip away.
She inhaled deeply, the adamantine teeth of her chainsword revving into a blur as the psychic fire of the Emperor ignited and burned furiously across the blade.
Then, a devastating, heavy cleave!
The blade tore straight through the thick armor plating, the holy inferno pouring inside and instantly reducing the ruined Astartes—who had been fused with the machinery through dark Chaos sorcery—into absolute ash.
"...Damned lapdogs of the Corpse-Emperor!"
Around the corner of the corridor, a Possessed Chaos Space Marine acting as the commander witnessed this entire sequence through the tactical feeds in his helm, cursing under his breath.
A Helbrute, an engine capable of butchering an entire Astartes squad given the right terrain, could not even last a few minutes before being executed on the spot!
He could rack his transhuman brain until it bled and still fail to comprehend how the enemy had accomplished this!
And furthermore, why in the warp was a Living Saint here?
This defied all rational logic!
"...Cease your pondering! What are you hesitating for? Run!"
A terrified shriek echoed from within his own mind.
What was happening?
A look of genuine bewilderment crossed the Possessed Marine's face. This was the first time he had ever witnessed the warp daemon inhabiting his flesh display such absolute terror.
Warp daemons, the Neverborn. Generally speaking, even if they were slain within the materium, they were merely banished back to the immaterium to await their next opportunity to breach reality. What in existence could possibly make them feel fear?
"Imbecile, can you truly not sense it? Those souls! The souls of the Prince of Pleasure's faithful! Upon being slain, they completely dissipated! Reduced to absolute nothingness! They did not return to the Six Circles of the Lord of Excess!"
"The hateful Anathema! How could He possibly achieve this?! Impossible! No, wait, it is not the Anathema? Is this Living Saint truly a Living Saint? I have never felt this sensation before, bizarre..."
The daemon's disjointed, frantic babbling caused the Possessed Marine to frown; he found it incredibly difficult to decipher the entity's meaning.
However, he was in complete agreement with the ensuing demand to flee.
The warband brothers and cultist meat-shields acting as a delaying force were clearly going to be consumed in moments under this withering assault. If he did not run now, he likely never would.
Just as the Possessed Marine turned around, preparing to retreat, he suddenly felt an anomalous surge of warp energy rippling from his flank.
A blinding flash of blue teleportation light tore through the air, and a towering figure draped in black robes, wielding a power sword, materialized to block his path.
CLANG!
Blades clashed, azure disruption fields violently grinding against one another as the two combatants locked eyes.
The Possessed Marine was utterly astounded.
Initiating a second warp teleportation in such a microscopically short window of time?
Did that psyker have a death wish?!
But the thoughts of the black-robed Custodian were profoundly simple.
"Repent, heretic! Today is the day you die!"