The Black Sword bit deep into the heretics flesh and releasing its built up energy exploding the heretic's body. Before the remains of the heretic could touch the ground, the black-powered suited giant leaped over it and brought his sword once more into another fresh victim.
Around him more black-giant surged forward into the mass of heretics, bringing down holy chainswords down upon the foul servants of chaos heads chanting their warcry "No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear!" Despite the slaughtering the heretics received, they held steady against the might of the Templers. While the champion didn't mind as it made cleansing them all the more easy, but it was strange. After slicing through yet another heretic, he felt the heretics blood splatter across The Armour of Faith, the mighty power armor bestowed upon him after his vision of the Immortal Emperor.
Looking through the swarm of heretics for a sign of a leader, so he could challenge him and smite him in the emperor's name, he spotted a large blue-armored man standing on the steps of the cathedral; his blue spotless armor was trimmed in gold. Sitting unstop of his armor was a large helm shaped in a deformed skull with large horns protruding from it. A Sorcerer, the champion felt his rage build at the sight of the Traitor daring to stand on the holy house of the God-Emperor. Lifting his large sword, he pointed it at the sorcerer and bellowed his challenge.
"Foul servant of chaos, I come for you!"
The sorcerer's helm turned and watched him, the large gold skull nodded in understanding. He held his hand out and beckoned to the champion, further increasing his rage. Prepared to cut his path to the foul sorcerer, he was surprised to find the heretics had made a path for him to go.
Showing no fear, he walked down the path expecting the Traitor to pull some trickery, but find none. The heretics watched him gleefully. The foul traitor guardsmen and civilians that had once been proud members of the Imperium were but shells of their former selves lost in the foul chaos.
Making his way to the steps, he could still hear the sounds of battle behind him. The humming of chainswords and screams of heretics filled the air as he made his way up the stairs, the heretics filling the gap behind him and renewed their charge against the Templers eager to find their death.
He stepped up to the base of the cathedral, searching for the sorcerer and found him standing in front of the giant open doors of the Cathedral. The sorcerer had his back towards him, and his long blue cloak blew in the wind. He wasn't paying him any attention, in his right hand he had a long force glaive, and a bolt pistol at his waist. Growing impatient with the Traitor he let out a roar, and charged at the sorcerer.
Slashing his sword down he expected to feel the puncture of the armor, and the feeling of blade biting flesh but was disappointed as the sorcerer whirled around and caught the champions Black sword on his glaive.
"My, aren't you a hasty one. Do not worry, I will free you soon enough brother." The sorcerer voice seemed to flow out and over the champions mind. Soothing and choking his thoughts. "Foul Sorcerer enough trickery today you die!" The sorcerer didn't reply only let out a low rumbling laughter.
Jumping back, the champion swung his sword expertly left, right, low, above but each time his blade was met with the glaive and that same laugh, and soon the sound of power blades clashing filled the air downing out all other sounds. The fight continued seemly on an even footing but soon time began to tell the tiny difference in level of skill.
The champion was being pushed back, and he rage was growing. Every time he struck it was as if the sorcerer knew were his sword would be before he even swung it. While the sorcerer's blows were lightning fast and precise, hitting every tiny opening in the champions guard and each time puncturing his armor and drawing blood, but the champion managed to avoid any death blows with his inhuman reflexes.
The champions rage grew to the point where his sight turned red, and in blinding speed he swung at the sorcerer's neck intent on cleaving it off in one fell swoop. The sword neared and the sorcerer showed no signs of stopping it and his glaive was no were in sight, victory was his! His thoughts were interrupted as a blunt object smashed into the side of his helm. Throwing him off balance and his sword swung harmlessly over the sorcerers head.
Blinking he worried briefly what in the warp had hit him and found his answer when he saw the glaive spin in the sorcerers hand, and the blunt edge crash into the front of his helm. Trying to bring up his guard, but every time he was met with the same fate, being hammered by the blunt side of the glaive. He is toying with me; the enraging thought filled the champions mind.
Lunging forward at the sorcerer for a moment he thought he had him, but the sorcerer wasn't there and he felt an exploding pain in his left shin. Looking back, pain filled his mind as his armored leg was impaled deep into the concrete held there by the force glaive. Looking up he realized why the sorcerer had chosen this spot… it could be seen by everyone on the battlefield. He felt rather than saw the despair hit the heart of his Battle brothers. The sorcerer let go of the glaive and slowly walked around to the front of the champion sneering down at him.
The champion tried one last swing at the sorcerer, but his wrist was easily caught in the sorcerer's hand. The warp empowered heretic easily overpowering him in his weakened state, with a clench the champion felt his normally steel wrist shatter, but he didn't make a peep, he would not satisfy the sorcerer with a response as the sword fell from his now limp hand.
The sorcerer kicked the sword away, and walked around him, his boots crunching on the ground. He gripped him by the back of his head and forced him to look over the battlefield, his brothers now disheartened were slowly being overrun by the heretics, although superhuman even the angels of death couldn't stand against such odds as the streets continued to fill with heretics, and even more charged out from the houses. After a few minutes had passed and nothing happened the champion growled.
"Kill me heretic and spare me the subtleties." The sorcerer using his hand forced the champion to shake his head back and forth slowly. "No, no, my dear brother. I said I was going to free you, and free you I will. Let me show you the truth."
Pain flashed through the champions mind and finally he saw. A thousand roads, branches, a man living his life, he watched as trillions of ways the man's life could have been different, sometimes the change was so subtle, so subtle he barely noticed. Colors danced across his eyes, thousands upon billions of pictures rushing past his mind, years and eons seemed to go by and finally it abruptly stopped. He was standing in a large black room. The walls ever changing and before him giant eyes peered into his soul. The eyes changing color and meaning every second, millisecond, and in this room his mind finished its fall.
The champion saw the world now, anew. He laughed loudly holding his hands up and screaming "I've seen the truth, brothers join us. Be free of the false emperor, join the true gods. All Hail TZEENTCH!"
The brothers of the Black Templers stood and in shock saw the Emperors champion give praise to chaos. Their spirits broken; they fought on. They would send the traitor to his death, and recover the tainted wargear.
"Yes, now you see the truth" the sorcerer's voice rolled over him and smiling in wonderful glee he cried out again "yes, yes I see it now!"
The sorcerer nodded one last time before drawing his bolt pistol with his free hand "yes, my brother, now you are free." With an ear shrieking boom the bolt tore through the champions head, and the sorcerer lifted what was left of his helm, and tossed it into the crowd.
He looked down into the blooded streets, and called to his heretics "Kill them all, Leave none alive." Without a second glance, he entered the Cathedral to finish his work.