The Inquisitor

Chapter XVII

There was no warning to prepare a scant defense when I met skin scorching stone! One moment that blank silver mask xeno appeared and it came akin to lightning striking. I got sent reeling sideways skidding across half melted rock and wishing it'd hit. Biting down every natural desire to scream, I flung myself around barely seeing an air boiling metallic edge embedded inches from an arm, "Missed me!" I weakly laughed as a metallic boot thundered into buckling ribs ending any enjoyment, I spat up blood and vomit several meters backward.

Throne, it hits harder than a daemon! Numbly raising myself I kept back peddling as a spear's tip shrilly made even the warp boil in sheer livid potency. Glimmering orange pulled in air as an audible scream cut through forcing me to half jump back, I kept kicking up water or muck in a desperate bid to get away. If that thing even hit me, I didn't dare imagine what hellish sensation it'd rival and by the throne I'd make it work for my life. The masked xeno only slowly turned to nimbly flip a weapon expertly, gracefully and I felt an unseen gaze burn my face subtly.

It paused momentarily when I laughed out bloodied droplets and as such I reacted by flinging a blaze spiraling rapidly. Feck! One gloved hand ideally slapped said psychic flames aside, I couldn't believe anything moved this damned quick. Gnashing teeth I screamed when a pace of unmistakable anger in stridden steps bringing it forward, "What are you?" I demanded shrilly to wildly kick back forgoing caution to even fling loose granite stones, even if they were burning flesh into an ugly odor as it defected everything too nimbly.

Don't stop for throne's sake, use every second and imagine more... But that line of thought entirely got dismantled when a psychic brain damning scream sent me flinging backwards. Darkness and light molded when I cried out slamming my own head into muck, I couldn't think and I couldn't stand it! What insanity is this, feck...no more! The unyielding echoing screams endlessly made even moving a hellish nightmare akin to what I'd seen months ago, I tried forcing it out yet that proved far too ineffective.

Blurred images appeared rapidly as one fleeting orange light descended swiftly making my eyes got wide. If fire, or daemonic horrors were what I'd imagined to pain? I got an entirely new definition when searing lightning and fire melded underneath an impaled spear's tip through my leg! Freely abandoned screams came out at an ear cracking tone, even through psychic dampened pain receptors, I flailed in place unable to think, or instinctual desperation to claw out said spear. But in vain to I tried feebly to yank the hellish weapon out of bloodied chunks, a crackling surge of electric rage sent each hand aside burnt to crisps.

Wheezing in rapid breaths I came face to face when a gloved limb viciously yanked myself upward. My own reflection in perfect clarity had looked back undeniably terrified, confused and utterly blinded by assaults nothing I'd ever imagined began. What...feck...you? Words openly projected broke as waves of madness assaulted me, a fist slammed across my face tingling when sensing flashes of light dancing innocently in random spots and it stroke three more times. Every strike seemingly deliberate yet when it'd ceased I'd only saw murky silver and gray.

Dimly aware of consciousness thought I loosely gripped a wrist, or assumed so but air roared past dulled ears. Solid wall met my skull, spine and I found myself effortlessly slammed several times to overload what little of a nervous system into broken shambles. Fire...heat...will it! Small sensations trickled inward burning aside unspeakable agony, I managed to lift a bloodied grin when getting flung onto the ground with a shadow looming imposingly. Embers slowly pulled themselves when I sneered, or stupidly tried too.

The spear tips jerked making me cry out as a commanding word in chilled high-gothic forced all limbs to freeze. It'd been psychically whispered yet it might as well have been bellowing, "Enough!" I spat out bloodied globs successfully staining more of myself than it's own cloak, "Feck...you." Even partially unconscious I heard no change of breathing, or even a hiss except for unnatural silence. I soon regretted opening my mouth, but it'd only been capable to buy time for others to perhaps get to where I'd been gutted open eventually.

Distant warmth started to flow as fingers began curling. Burn...feck! And yet a glowering spear tip came striking swiftly downward in response. I couldn't muster will to scream except to jerk violently. It'd been dispersing flame and embers into sizzling smoke all due to my blood coming into contact. The warp screamed around my entire hand being shredded, or possibly usurped by shrouding tendrils drilling into every impaled inch of flesh. I coughed several moments afterward simply ejecting bile, bloodied globs and dirtied saliva to inevitably feel every last bit adrenaline fading rapidly due to humane limits alone.

"Brute, you." Two high gothic words simmered amused to have me shallowly inhale as cold started to creep within. Yet one finger again raised forcing eyes to watch exhaustively stunned witnessing crimson liquid seep back underneath burnt blackened flesh. Why...kill...me? I psychically responded weakly to feel an urge to sleep take hold yet it responded equally, "Kill? No, seek!" My skull throbbed painfully and aware of internal trauma's especially when I tilted said body briefly in feeling sane comprehensible disbelief surging forth.

It knelt to sharply jab a finger towards my temple suddenly as I rasped out agonizingly in response. Pressure tried gradually to break through an unseen will of steel, I imagined walls and spiked edges to hear another word whispered. In one moment I heard it state, "Insolent!" And ungodly amounts of force forcing through effortlessly, to bypass consciousness's function to paralyze all cells, blood and muscle in one unified stroke. Get...out...now!

An unseen shifted started to drag up memories when I unwillingly got drawn to them! It was going through every experience, thought or past memory I realized horrified to muster everything to stop an intended act. GET...OUT! I shrieked unintentionally mimicking it's inflicted scream to channel pain, terror and sheer rage when it recoiled immediately! Once it's unseen hold wavered I had enough strength to muster a fist strike an exposed throat. The masked xeno lurched forward steadying itself when I shuffled backward several feet raggedly wheezing in air rapidly.

One hand idly soothed itself merely as a blank mask looked upward yet again. It refused to move mainly to stare unknowingly when said gloved limb returned to settle on it's thigh, I struggled to stay awake moving sluggishly in place to get meager distance. Stay out...you don't belong there! No psychic strengths were mustered even as a shroud leisurely encircled us both, I just wanted to live at this point and I wasn't allowing myself to die helplessly. Exhaustion quickly returned forcing my gaze to falter as I leaned to stare numbly at scorched stones smoldering.

Where's everyone...why so long? I thought tiredly to hear metallic clicks securing a bloodied spear tip. The masked xeno walked into view staring downward silently, stationary and it raised a single damned finger once more. It traced an upside down smile at first before pointing upward to make a smile all too nimbly bemused. Pendulums swayed hypnotically into patterns when each movement made it seem glowering all too surreal, I resisted mightily with what I had left internally. But it was too much as I gradually begin embracing sweet merciful darkness.

Slurring out word will to lift a hand I raised myself to see the shroud churning. Yet an opening among numerous swirling patterns made me smirk, "Oh, throne now I...get it." Psychic spears got sent sloppily splitting an opening as a yellowish infused figure turned the tunnel's scorched corner. Bolter fire immediately erupted when I thought I heard Alicia, or Anora cry out someone's name desperately when I fell back. Granite shattered into hundreds of fragments slowly, or quickly creating lights of blending coloration making me faintly appreciate it.

Bullets struck everything within inches as I groggily witnessed flashes of red appearing just behind and everything turned into one massive light. The xeno raised a hand sharply as rumbling above shook myself to manage conscious understanding, if only just partially. It can pull objects...how? Dust externally uplifted an explosive crash of gravity got smashed into undeniable reality, a series of boulders and granite caved simultaneously. It'd sealed one tunnel with ease to face down leaving me to linger into fading will.

Walking past a hand firmly gripped my shirt's ruined scuff to drag me unceremoniously in deathly silence. It never stopped unless waving another hand sealing off distant routes in muted explosions, or rumbling quakes. Only when I twitched a hand did an overt pleasant tranquility of peace and forced sensory overload sent my eyes shut. Sleep, now. Those were the only two words in high-gothic I'd heard when everything seemingly faded into peaceful oblivion.


The Sororita cursed loudly ceasing fire as an unnatural barrier of earth blockaded itself thunderously absolute. Peering through dust as internal function within a helmet indicated no capable openings to purpose, "Wretched xeno filth and trickery!"An armored fist slammed lividly into partially smoldering granite to cave in several lengths of weakened interior. Her fellow sister lowered another blessed bolter to warily point out, "There's no amount of detour for his servo-skull if we're to seek out the holy son of our Emperor, sister. We'd best regroup and decide on our next actions, wisely."

Her gaze hatefully tore itself from natural instinct to push through mere rock tainted by xeno hands yet it'd be a folly to do so. Rigidly turning back while yet again smashing another buckling piece of granite hardly soothed deep sated hatred, "I warned him, sister!" Alicia looked over partially to agree but soundly countered, "Yet he still pursued knowing what risk and to achieve what few of us imagined to withstand. Marcos maybe a damned foolish boy, but he's wouldn't lie in warning us if it wasn't a daemonic foe which had been expected!"

Anora's simmering emotional outlook boiled out again to be vented by smashing more granite furiously, to resist roaring in rightful indignation. No familiar voice of reason, or assurance made her mind poisonously seek to hear even the small child's easy acceptance. A bitter reminder of their penance to allow such unique exceptions which had been debated heavily in secret, "He's a child, sister. Powerful as he is, I fear the worst since my helm caught sight of him breathing...faintly but alive." They proceeded past a group of Kriegers assisting others who'd been gradually returning to sanity, another reminder of a mere boy putting himself in front of holy subjects expected to perish.

Yet he'd thrown himself into harms way to make their ends meaningful. The Sororita exhaled tiredly to bitterly remark, "Selflessness is a habit that'll garner him to see our holy father, sooner than later." Alicia's own frame partially stilled to again point out mildly, "Yes, but it is far more preferable than being selfish and blinded by one's personal desires. But Marcos's reasons were only for a genuine will and good to be done in our father's will, to us to succeed and stand against all foes who'd reveal themselves to our presence. We will we find him, sister...take heart he yet lives but not in a daemon's whims alone."

Resisting to spit in disgust she rebuked, "And in a xeno's mercy? Is that supposed to comfort my ills, sister?" The younger woman hardly missed a beat to grimly remind them, "No, it is worse! As I recall from our Order's teachings, it is sadly equally damning but yet we must expect danger still to lurks if he did reappeared among us. Unwillingly, or not as per our word it equates consorting with the xeno regardless of circumstance as heresy. I can only pray he'll resist and escape, if only just to die pure in faith alone."

Anora coldly glared through metal to reach out grasping her fellow Sororita's pauldron to forcefully stop them both. Her own modulator crackled to indicate strained words, "Be mindful of your thoughts, sister Alicia. Take heed, if our sister-superior heard of your words even she'd rebuke you, if only for an exception of circumstance our Order can decree for holy intentions." The other freshly initiated sister of battle refused to speak further. But a point had to be made, an intention of holy miracle and clarity was to be declared.

"I will not believe that our blessed son of our father, shall or willingly fall underneath a fickle and disgusting xeno's will alone." Nothing remotely screamed doubtful of what a small boy endured, or even put himself through only to ask for nothing in return, "He has stood admirably firm, unwavering and has yet to break even against foes which shattered our own. Lest you forget, our pledge and vow to exterminate that wretched creature tempting us into damnation?" Alicia looked aside as fresher memories of Miriael Sabathiel's words slithering within, if more so her actions in defiling an innocent boy's sanity alone.

Anora hadn't allowed herself to dull in faith, spirit or belief to reinforce their vow, "I thought you'd expect more from him and us, sister." She moved past unwilling to waste breath, or thought on something they'd ordained to be mundane at best. Not even four paces away did her fellow sister softly proclaim, "Forgive me, Anora. But I fear if I care too much, I may live to regret knowing we'll never see a boy become the man he desperately rushes to be, if not in age but of action who make us all crave genuine affection. Kindness alone is powerful, but to ask for nothing in return is far too dangerous to not understand."

Again Anora looked towards a wall tempting for several moments to smash it into pieces but refrained to admit, "Yes, we walk a grave path and Marcos is too woefully ignorant to realize such acts inspire us." But her suit's functions obeyed to move forward without looking back, "But that is our penance for failing today, in our past and only our holy father may deem us absolved of sins, sister. We care because we must, but we don't feel strongly because that is what make's humanity the sole superior race destined to spread the Emperor's light over all who dared to question it. I have my reasons, but do you know your own?"

She exited around a corner leaving her fellow to ponder such personal questions in solace. Zooming circular cyan like recitals ahead around Kriegers returning in front, they'd moved aside wordlessly and bowed their heads in silent vengeful manners. They may not have spoken yet their movements were of men enraged, if not expertly channeled into rigid and precise movements. All of them had been touched whether through words, or actions of a boy who'd done more for them without ever being selfish to doubt intentions. It'd been both a blessing, curse and bitter reminder those who'd aided them willingly held ulterior motive.

But for once an exception had been made true and without deception. To knowingly die could be accepted all too easily, but to die worthlessly without an opportunity to have a purpose signified grim resignation. Yet Marcos Eius came along as Anora amusingly watched to see Kriegers, of soldiers and trained killers. An infamous and notorious group who'd never displayed outright emotional responses expertly check themselves and others over rigidly. Faith had rewarded these men who'd been voluntarily sent to die, to die with purpose and to be remembered if not out of reward but of genuine desire to know they'd mattered.

The servo-skull hovered just above Engels shoulder seemingly obedient yet it surprised her openly inquiring, "Sororita Anora, Order of Bloody Rose auspects detect acting-inquisitor Eius life signs are rapidly moving south east. This machine spirit inquires to an unseen change of orders?" Marcos's only legacy remained in a mere ordinary servo-skull, "He'll return on his own accord, machine. Continue leading onward, we'll see him returned eventually." She spoke merely to have said object's optical eye glower bright to reply, "Acknowledged, Sororita Anora."

Engel Adalwin's mask tilted impeccably to meet her own helm far too naturally unnerving. The Krieger didn't need to question, or object a poor conceived lie which sounded feeble to those overhearing an almost certainty of demise. Your purpose is to die, Krieger. Her gaze turned towards possibly the last filth to grace themselves while partially leaning against an entrance of another tunnel. Sigur's green optical were viewing distant darkness relatively unfazed, or remotely appeared surprised when his sly tone indicated cynical truth.

"Kid's got balls, woman." His perfected tool of a lasgun stowed securely while pulling down a mask to idly light another degenerate habit, "But balls and guts don't compare to luck! Best ya bury him now, or have his ghost get ya killed later." The man took a considerably drag to exhale smoke contently as her voice turned frigidly dangerous, "Take heed of your words, it's as if you are already certain. He's still alive and still endured to break free against an enemy, you or I never encountered in a place where daemonic forces lurked."

Sigur's lips pulled into a leering grin to flick ash aside, "Yup, better kill him and make peace with the Emperor woman." The storm troopers tone seemingly dipped knowingly to reflect on past experiences best left to alcohol, or nightmares give a colder outlook, "I heard him call out, too woman. If that xeno hasn't killed him yet, it'll do it or send him back where we'll have to do it. Can't get around heresy, even if old Sigur talks dirty to get ya wet inside."

Anora stared absolutely certain to not undeniably believe even filth held compassion for some he'd been tasked to harm, "Mercy? From your kind?" An ever sly grin matched raising eyebrows unseen, "Haven't lied to ya yet, woman. Liked the kid, got balls few wished they'd have and it's a shame I can't see what he'd do, if he had some spine like the lady-inquisitor. Ah, well..." He seemingly shrugged to stare back into darkness faintly to recall a name being desperately sought, "...but maybe said inquisitor is alive to ya know determine otherwise? Right?"

Unwillingly a boy's voice returned cheekily to propose the holy father blessed them earlier. Faith is rewarded unquestioningly, so maybe you weren't wrong...Marcos. Her face tightened to passively harbor a slim chance of that conclusion coming to pass, "Perhaps you're right, filth. Maybe there's a redeeming quality in you, if you'd hone it more often." Sigur's lho-stick brightly burned only to have him sneer impeccably hungry, "Buy ya a drink and pop that cheery, I'd consider it! But old Sigur likes being a fecking shit talker, it's too much fun."

Anora snorted to turn away not even humoring good will unless another intervened to deter temptations of fatal intention. But to even begin such a chance, they'd need the lady-inquisitor to determine such course and inevitably decide upon Marcos's retrieval. Looking over towards one purity seal which had been attached to her armor, a prayer and plea was conveyed. Blessed Father of mankind, guide and aid your lost son wandering in the darkness, watch over him as we've have failed in your ordained will to spread faith among those damned. Please watch over him, please return him and please...for my price to never stray in my tasks.

Moisture faintly began emerging yet vengeance steeled aside in favor of completing their mission. Approaching the master sergeant who nodded briefly, "We've lingered here too long. Have you and your kin secure us passage. I trust the owner's servo-skull, he'll be our guide and once we achieve our primary mission parameters." Anora explained stiffly to glance again towards sealed tunnels to nurture a faint hope which would die until the corpse had been recovered, "Then we can eventually verify if the boy lives, or not."

Engel's mask concealed every visibly feature to expertly frustrate those looking for visual signs of agreement, or disagreement. Yet he merely replied tonelessly reminiscent of Kriegers who found no joy in life as war raged endlessly, "Understood, Sororita." He rigidly moved back among korpsmen who mimicked each other to harness a spine chilling movement, they'd show no mercy or compassion whether personal or external to those crossing their path. There was no mistake to be gauged, or signs misinterpreted by foolish ignorance.

She watched transfixed of forty Kriegers battle hardened, veterans and near emotionless men revert into what made them fearless souls. They're enraged men who have failed in their minds, to see them naturally cold and zealously focused. They weren't inhumane as rumors spread of their regiment since appearing first on battle-fields. They were human, they were flawed and they embraced death because of sins weighing them down no amount of glory achieved. Her eyes closed to internally pray for these souls to reach absolution and salvation as they'd earned such recognition, they'd been allowed to become humane once more.

Whether fools perished, or endured through whatever means it'd been said to have been disdained. Kindness was looked down upon, discouraged and ultimately deemed a liability when fighting an endless series of foes not capable to express such emotion. Yet it was rarely shown as she checked a blessed bolter weapon, to know fools were always missed and not of compassion. They were missed because they often, or not made willing martyrs who'd push themselves to their limits to prove said fools were right. But in hindsight if a fool managed to make those push themselves without sacrificing everything, Anora smiled warmly coming to a conclusion they were naturally capable to wisely play such fools entirely.


My eyes slowly opened flickering away exhaustion to blearily begin taking in details as blood flowed gradually naturally. At first cooler temperatures pulled me further back into rest, I didn't resist and seemingly floated when wind whipped past to garner a cough. Fingers numbly curled and uncurled when an ideal pleasant softness extended along my entire back. Slowly I came too again taking in darkened signs as distant rumbles of thunder indicated not of natural means, I tried to groan which escaped easily.

Rusted metallic beams leisurely upheld a wooden, or partially rotten out roof were wind funneled into freely. Skies...what, but the tunnel! Alarm filled my entire body to snap back to reality as memories rushed forward making a heart pound anxiously. Checking over myself I saw to an immense confusion most of the wounds were either healed, or fading partially to only emit soreness. Yet I inspected both hands where they'd been burning inside and out, a healthy sheen of pale and pink greeted widening eyes in response to said coloration.

It appeared at first I'd been placed on some makeshift platform ideally sheltered and covered in ragged bags. I got up taking in surroundings as I realized it'd been high above ground. Fencing twisted, or melded into eerie unknowable symbols subtly emitting huge swathes of warp energies. They were emitting shrouds so thick, far too numerous and not once did I witness an opening between circular motions. All were masterfully placed in precise locations, in concealing whoever, or myself to such a degree, that by the throne itself I'd doubt even I'd be able to rip it apart. Frankly it was simply too large and concentrated to attempt.

The xeno psyker left me alive, fecking only thing that makes sense! Warily gazing around sweeping for any signs I found nothing, or had been left alone intentionally. Seemingly an entire platform observing high above a city was vacant save for myself, I rubbed arms which screamed in protest when movement effected them and I channeled psychically to dampen pain receptors once more. Only numbness followed suite granting me respite to inhale deeply, I found cooler winds far more kinder to quell internal fires of healed organs.

Walking to suspiciously see fickle shrouds tendrils leisurely linger, or claw outwards around entire building I came to grip rusted fencing to peer below. It looked familiar as I looked slightly over to notice intensive flashes among dust, "The Death Korps are assaulting every position. Seems like that gamble paid off, throne praise the Emperor." I muttered feeling slightly reassured everything I'd done hadn't gotten entirely ruined, or somewhat meaningful. Yet I faced my immediate problem to get down and head towards where everyone else had probably decided.

Hesitantly I closed both eyes concentrating trying to expand sensory trying to find any weakness, or opening within this entire shrouded cloud. But all too quickly it proved futile when I froze to widen both eyes as blood froze. I wasn't ever alone, apparently! An audible crackling of electric sparks warily made each hand hastily avoid being shocked, metallic fencing and supports glowered in response to what had set them up. It seemed my would be killer, or possible torturer had been observing in one place I'd neglected entirely.

Turning around I stared impassively concealing anxiety, worry and gruesome expectations to see a blank masked figure. It lazily sat above a shelter with an arm angled enough to where psychic energy visibly glowered in warning. A cowl swayed in conjunction with wind yet there was an audible shift in air signifying ease to summon lightning, or bolts capable to fry me alive. So glad you're considerate, do you want round two? I asked coldly knowing it'd put me into a state of near death, or perhaps it'd wanted such an outcome to enjoy itself further.

Silence reigned conspicuously in subtle bemusement when a finger leisurely pointed aside to where a spear glowered symbiotically. It'd been wrapped within a metallic bundle encased by orange near bluish symbols withholding psychic power, or had been willed to appear. Yet it responded without hesitation to way said finger negatively, a chastising sense filled me grudgingly irritated. I'd rather not contend with Tartarus's lessons when a xeno had literally mimicked said gesture from partially torn memories, I'd been aware of what it'd gotten briefly.

"What are you?" I heard it speak with my own voice unnervingly coy, "Amusing." I dryly replied not even humoring what this creature sought, or gained from irritating myself immensely. Hands silently applauded mockingly ever deliberately as if it'd been honored personally. I scowled lividly hissing out verbally as anger surged within naturally, "Aren't you a smart bastard? What some more tips for being a fecking joke?"

The silver mask tilted ironically indicating soured disappointment to only lightly send a spark into my back! I bit down yelping to glare hatefully and ideally tempted to unleash enough fire to melt an entire building into molten glass. Insolent, speak. I gnashed both teeth crushing relative reflexes to say colorful wording, but I got the hint. It wanted to speak politely, if I'd hadn't gone mad and I'd have to behave, or risk getting skewered again.

Coolly gathering enough cognitive thought processes I looked over every detail so far. This xeno psyker hadn't deliberated tried to kill me, for whatever reason and yet every time I actually provoked it? Throne! Wait a fecking shit, so why was it even speaking to me? In broken high gothic, isn't a xeno just as deceptive as a daemon? The feck is going on here? I stared unsure into a silver mask which dipped coincidentally once in sheer bemusement, it'd even made a gesture of smiling to further indicate willingness to converse...peacefully?

Incredibly unnerved to a point where I licked dried lips over harsh winds I questioned hesitantly, "Am I going mad?" The masked xeno paused abruptly to stare several moments before suddenly hunching over shaking in undeniable mirth. My legs gave out to dumbly stare unbelievably in seeing a xeno of all things, hunched over in muted amusement which almost killed me and had the fecking balls to laugh it off? Several moments passed before said xeno ceased to seemingly wipe a mocking tear aside, it leaned forward all too intrigued.

"Throne...I am going mad." I pinched my own flesh to feel a faded response as that determined I wasn't dreaming, or in some twisted nightmare. So you weren't stalking myself, or my friends to kill us? I psychically mentioned incredulously in sheer shock to where a negative shake of it's head non-verbally confirmed. One hand raised into a shooing motion, or rather flippantly found my thoughts irrelevant to signify it'd been less than concerned honestly.

My mind refused to humor I'd been conversing with an honest Emperor knows psyker which wasn't human. Knowledge coldly began accumulating to make this moment truly damning, if not outright suicidal because of absolute causes of heresy. Consort, or speak to not with a Xeno, for it is a sign of the heretic and purification of the soul must be upheld. My throat burned when a surreal nauseous instinct made me gulp and I immediately sprinted to a building's edge committing violently. I shook out of sheer fear, anxious understanding and it'd stemmed to what spoke behind me.

It again imitated my own voice in slightly clearer low-gothic, "What some more tips for being a fecking joke?" I swore it'd been laughing quietly when I wiped away grim to see shoulders trembling from said xeno. Unable to withhold rage through will I snarled partially disgusted and equally terrified, "Aren't you perceptive for a clown!" That silver mask angled itself to simply raise both hands to look to one and then to another before pointing mirthfully at myself. Humiliation struck me when it'd reversed my words innocently impressed.

"Aren't you perceptive for a clown? What some more tips for being a fecking joke?" I held no amount of shock to see use both my voice and statements to mockingly applaud itself again. Yet before I managed to snark back I had an epiphany strike me soundly. Wait, if you're honest to the Emperor incredibly capable to walk over me with psychic will, why aren't you speaking like me?

Unintentionally I felt a slight chance for surviving, if only just so. So I hesitantly probed genuinely interested and slightly suspicious to which it began swinging two legs leisurely in response. Brute, you. Two words again in garbled high-gothic designated to have me whisper cautiously, "You can't really speak low, or high gothic? But you literally did all that earlier to me, easily!"

The masked xeno leaned forward casually waving a hand to mimic myself once more, "Amusing! Aren't you perceptive for a clown!" Instead of being feeling humiliation I found myself genuinely curious as to how, or exactly that even seemed possibly. I sat up crossing both legs quietly gauging what it'd meant technically, "You're mimicking everything I say, right? Because you don't understand how to speak it, or just won't do it?"

It seemed a different approach had been all willingly appreciated when it sat cross legged as well. A finger made another smiling gesture when I used portions of my previous questions, "Don't understand how to speak it." I frowned to question it shrewdly to unmask an underlying motive for it to be possible, "Yet you understand me! How?" Another hand pointed to it's own head gently tapping it before pointing towards myself when it spoke in my coyly impressed as I understood, "Aren't you a smart bastard!"

If Tartarus ever decided to impart lessons of xenos and their habits, I'd seriously would take them up willingly if I survived today. You're not human, I get that much obviously. The masked figure perked upwards immediately intrigued as I slowly took in every bit of information to rationalize said madness of a possibility. You're not here to kill me, or those I came inside this city clearly! And the only reason why you got incredibly pissed at me, from what I'm gathering from you it was because I didn't understand...you?

One hand rose to nimbly shake back and forth for a moment before ceasing entirely. Fear still lingered yet it been overridden by a daring sense of fascination. It all seemed surreal, if anything and I'd been expected daemons to manipulate reality itself. Ironically enough I was considered a heretic, by both everyone and even my own mind for simply talking to this xeno. I didn't know whether to be resigned to death on this planet one way, or another after it'd be found out. My face fell entirely realizing an entire damning future since depression of seeing the Sororita, or anyone meant execution for xeno influence by default.

My smile expressed pain rivaling what I'd endured between it's psychic sorcery and daemonic whispers seeking a soul's damnation. I admitted freely finding it utterly pointless to deny, "Well, I guess I'm fecked now basically." The masked observer only tilted its own head questionably as I explained mainly out of sheer resignation to marked as a heretical target, "You're not human! You're a Xeno and by the Imperial Creed itself I'm damned to be killed on sight, because you and I...are talking without trying to kill each other."

It remained silent before projecting two words into high-gothic unmistakably amazed. Brute, why? I bitterly quoted what many had upheld as I'd done so to ironically have it fall into pieces, "To hate the xeno, to destroy them before they claim you, or else fall into heresy to be damned." That said xeno remained disbelievingly quiet initially until once more utilizing my own voice to further feel myself branded as a heretical willing consorted taint, "To suffer not the xeno to live." I painfully laughed finding it utterly ironic considering I'd been raised, taught and presently adhered to the Imperial Creed anchoring myself to do right regardless of circumstance.

Perhaps my God-Emperor is punishing me, to have failed to remain firm and unwavering against any enemy of his own. I psychically stated tiredly to fish out a purity seal laced with holy protection, I felt as though I'd been scorned and cast aside due to failure alone. As loathsome to attempt another battle to redeem my soul's corruption, I didn't have the will alone to muster anything but to grimly resign myself into heretical fate of cleansing. Yet as apart of Ordos Malleus, an acting-inquisitor I'd ironically have to go further into heresy itself to succeed on my mission.

Looking exhausted to feel strength sap itself drier than even this damned planet I only asked it, "What do you want from me?" My will flickered to seemingly allow access if it'd been tempted, or possibly observing an overt iron clad barrier fade freely. Go on, tell me! I'll seek you, if you seek me and then we'll find out, won't we? That mask glowered partially as if unintentionally when a tender tendril crossed our distance. I didn't even flinch when serenity itself filled my sense to waft about lazily and someone else had been granted access within my very consciousness.

Unlike beforehand this xeno deliberately conveyed emotional intentions reminiscent of a humane quality that still felt alien. It wasn't natural, it wasn't human and yet I almost fell backward hearing a quiet laughter musically emitting between our link. What do you want? Please tell me, so I can get this over with to go assist others who are in danger, I won't resist whatever you seek and I'll do all I can to show you! This xeno seemingly refused to move subtly gathering psychic energy while both legs lazily kicked air, it'd tilted a silver mask partially to reveal my own face!

"You're perceptive for a clown." I saw literally a matching detailed face flickering to smugly taunt me further when euphoria alone caused my eyes to flutter, "Amusing! What some more tips for being a fecking joke? Aren't you a smart bastard?" It hadn't uttered a verbal word yet kept cycling through my statements, or sarcastic remarks as though fitting a puzzle together. An overwhelming sense of vast emotions filtered partially making my vision fluctuate when staring into shrouded swirls, I'd thought numbly to be aware there were slower winds floating in place and streams cycling vividly within the warp.

Memories were slowly picked out of curiosity, or genuinely purposeful when a faint word appeared within this endless euphoria. Brute, seek me! Slight tugs were forcing myself to lose visual vision as bright coloration seemingly blinded me entirely. I partially hesitated when an unfathomable depth of light blended into a myriad spiral, I lost senses to seemingly be pulled yet remained sitting to a churning stomach of anxious fear. And in one fleeting moment a series of images not seen through humane minds were granted willingly.


A white and red armored humanoid with burning wings, it stood proud and facing down an adversary. Cloaked in sickened blackened purple, a wicked laugh of delight and an inhumane indifference was crushed as a similar spear leveled itself. Fire, blood and death around them reached a twisted symphonic crescendo as daemonic entities cheered, or lavishly tortured lesser beings probably of human descent into mindless agonized existences. Impaled corpses gagged to form a back bed of groaning, or wheezing cries to end their pain yet lived through unnatural means of sorcery.

The mass of Chaotic energy given twisted will, desire and unyielding cravings of agonized expression waved arms wielding a staff to arc where numerous lesser beings wailed underneath an unholy power to have their spines be torn asunder. Crackling bone, piercing shrieks of innocent and wicked, it was simply setting itself to laugh joyfully to take in wisps of twisted tendrils feeding into itself. But the armored humanoid lunged a spear upward conjuring fire, lightning and a tidal wave smashing around to starve off all pain in a vengeance I'd never imagined possible. My own hate paled in comparison, it'd simply have no chance as flames hotter than a star's core swept to create an entire ring separating everything but it and the mass of Chaos's creation.

Red orbs on one mask glowered silently as a spear impaled itself into ground siphoning psychic energy to maintain said wall of arcane elements wordlessly. I stood off to the side viewing this red and white armor which glimmered beautifully yet held deadly repercussions when jewels of similar coloration glowered to fuel this being's power far beyond anything I'd imagined. Nothing came close save for one memory, but the sheer density of control seemingly made anything else irrelevant. But a nudge pulled two of my own eyes downward when both figures aligned prepared to duel to the death, if it seemed as such making a heart nearly rupture.

One prominent jewel small enough to cover my entire palm shown with a serene coloration green. It stood out driving aside tendrils were an internal power condensed, sorcery of an unimaginable scale where I fell numbly simply by beauty and how an internal song of vengeful desires of just intent burned way all sound alone. As the mass of blackened Chaos mutely cried out gleefully, hungrily and all too tempted did the masked winged humanoid look over. One delicately armored hand pointed towards my frozen expression to clench a fist before extending a hand, "Esdainn, I of the Shadow Specters Lord of Phoenix's seek you, to aid I to dance with 'She Who Thirsts' servant.For our Fall is imminent, I decree She, or I dance and I seek death to safeguard our kindred."

Even though it was of a language too beautiful, too exotic and far beyond my mind it'd been relayed into the purest speak of high-gothic. It didn't do itself justice, yet my body quivered crying out to just hear vengeance and hatred as my instinctual scream returned in earnest all too willing in seeking to battle. Yet this very image began to fade as something stood by to weave an unpreventable light shrouding all. Both figures stood by one another as a titanic clash of psychic sorcery ripped apart reality and to asunder earth, I watched it all with that green light consuming all when I got pulled into reality once again.


My gaze snapped to see a similar mask paling in sheer detail staring back as half of it resembled my own expression yet bloodthirsty. The observer of this xeno held something other than just psyker, or remotely anything close save for one word. Clumsily I obviously butchered said word in a language not meant for humans to utter, or naturally speak but I'd done so involuntarily, "Esdainn is what you're called." The xeno known to be as Esdainn to my mind, if only in name alone just faded to another silver blank masked nodding once ideally bemused.

Yes mon'keigh child, for a brute you're quite slow for the obvious. High-gothic clearer than any orator preached swiftly settled into a musical tone still held in my own voice. It'd hadn't utilized it's own vocal cords, or mind to forever keep my own as a means of simpler translation. Yet it was humane anymore, I almost cried because of how beautifully spoken every word had been crafted. I felt inferior, if only through sheer surprise and resignation to conceive rightful heresy reflexively.

Inwardly exhausted I asked another obvious question still intent on figuring out what it'd wanted, "Is mon'keigh a word for fecking idiot?" I inquired cynically self-aware to have it wave a hand partially again. Exhaling mightily while avoiding light headed numbness I went over a memory not capably witnessed through human sensory perceptions. It was far too vivid, too real and almost unbelievably pure to know I'd hadn't even gone further. I'd just saw shallow interpretations of psychic phenomena just rationalized, or I secretly feared it'd have made my brain implode from information overload alone in hindsight.

"I've seen that green stone." I spoke reflecting on a day dream, or maybe it'd been something more before entering the city's corrupted barrier, "That's your purpose for being here, or maybe I'm not understanding because...I don't know how." Esdainn which I'd call this xeno used my own tone without mimicking statements to mockingly proclaim, "And the mon'keigh realizes his own ineptitude of idiocy to say the most reasonable truth, yet. Fecking genius, aren't you?" I glared partially to catch an almost smug, or pleased expectation when a grox seemed smarter than most to flee slaughter and been lead back through treats.

Resisting to fall into an obvious trap to anger myself further I ignored it partially, "For some being seemingly superior, I'd say you needed a capable human to learn our language, or sound like an inept scribe seeking to keep his pride." The Esdainn went quiet at first before applauding openly to reply just as shrewd sounding delightfully amused, "And the mon'keigh has a witty defiance over stubborn blindness! Ironic, if only your intelligence matched your arrogance, a delightful folly to I, and quite the joke." I rolled both eyes not even willing to play another game of words, I'd been preparing for one ever since arriving on planet and having one with a xeno psyker screamed maddening.

But back to that stone, I have seen it. I reaffirmed silently to remember a memory which I offered mainly out of sheer expectation it'd get myself leaving this platform. Ever since coming here, I've been...plagued by nightmares, or dreams which just happen to occur. It's difficult to explain, but I don't have anything else to understand it. Perhaps it'd be able to at least partially impart an unseen question considering another tendril serenely descended into my skull, I cringed sickly in equally enjoying and shivering because I'd hadn't resisted entirely.

At first it viewed every detail methodically slow as if digesting details shallowly in comparison to what I'd went through. Yet unlike beforehand the Esdainn's emotional state fluctuated from a familiar humane interpretation of shock, disbelief and sheer indignation. Minutes dragged when it's own psychic signature retracted immediately. I watched transfixed when it looked up sharply to descend softly to make no sound, or hinted to be strained. The Esdainn seemingly lifted one finger to have myself fling forward as I yelped not even expecting said action.

I floated in place when it peered forward inches from a naturally shocked expression as it jabbed said finger into my temple. You are beyond stupid, mon'keigh child! It'd known my intentions when I'd walk to face down that Chaos daemon which wore a mask. More so I replied evenly not even humoring said madness instinctively agreeing, "Those who I care about are walking to their deaths, Esdainn. I'm not afraid, nor will I stand by to see them die without someone to give them a chance and I'd damn my soul just to make it regret trying."

The masked Esdainn shook it's head briefly to reaffirm what it'd just stated in utter superiority naturally. You are beyond stupid, inferior and lacking, mon'keigh child. I scowled partially to rebuke it defending my ability as it'd stood, "I don't have a choice, Esdainn! I'm human, I do all in my power to safe guard any who don't deserve to face a daemon they can't stand against! Least I can do, is give them time and kill it. Chaos wants to convert me, if anything I'll use that against itself as whatever it is...I'll have to entertain it's games to beat it."

I'd expected an insulting word, or two as a given but I hadn't expected a shrieking of sheer disbelief. What! The masked Esdainn literally shook me out of sheer unexpected disbelief, or perhaps when I regained coherent vision to see it rigidly digging into my temple again. I never had heard a creature willingly pour genuine serious thought into it's words, but I got an entire sensation to make me partially feel feint all too strongly. Mon'keigh child...you are an idiot, very foolish if not just as mad as those of your ilk who dare naturally to conceive to court madness! You are a brute, stupid and utterly mad!

Still I rationalized if this xeno was gradually reacting it'd been a slim hope to imagine no one had ever attempted said action. Smirking somewhat smugly I dared it to humor myself, "If I'm such a dumb fecking brute of a kid, Emperor knows why is a superior being trying to convince me to stop? Why do you care, or think when you have nothing to lose?" The silver mask got even closer when electric bolts crackled in potent warning lightly stinging flesh. Yet I stared back smirking as if all too deliberately wanting that reaction which words appeared coldly.

Simpletons you mon'keigh are foolish, ignorant child, a bit rustic to think of opportunity but commendable for lower beings. I wasn't deterred to know it'd been viewing my mind spotting said intentions to only retort naturally smug, "What's one more death? Least I can die happier not a heretic, or die assured I tried doing the Emperor's will, Esdainn. So..." I trailed off when it pushed me away to walk aside staring rigidly to proclaim sharply cutting off thoughts. Stupid, brute cease your intention for it is folly and mad, if only humorous were your wit's end.

Smirking since I felt an unknown sense of intrigue to speak fully making bolts of lightning crackle sharply, "You need that stone to complete your mission, I have need in my mission a way to fight that daemon to save my friends." Despite floating in place I managed to cross both arms lightly tapping air to make light of suspended gravity. It certainly wasn't uncomfortable as sparks of lightning were sporadically growing brighter. Peering further into said bolts, I grinned partially because it'd been of aggravation's source when a crazy idea had been humored sourly.

You know something about this particular daemon that's inside this city, Esdainn. I stated coolly because its head turned partially mainly from what I'd seen in that memory. My finger lifted to mimic itself where it'd been subtly chastised to have it irritably make a frown gesture. Also now that I'm thinking rather clearer ironically, I'm wondering if you'd wanted that stone so much, so why not go get it now? You obviously know where it might be, or I'd say have a good idea and yet you haven't allowed me to go die even knowing it's going to happen. And since giving said information...so that leads me to think of something remarkably funny.

Despite tempting an inevitable repeat of severe trauma I only laughed sheepishly when an answer struck me so hard, I literally saw right through its deliberate actions. You need a mon'keigh, to get it for you! The Esdainn stared eerily silent, rigid and turned to face me fully lowering a head yet I laughed uncontrollably to praise my Emperor such rightful blessings. Throne, irony is too good when it's thrown back in your face! And here a dumb, stupid kid like me...who wants to die, just found out why he's needed for a superior being to pick up one little stone. Am I close, or did I hit the grox without trying too hard?

Unexpectedly gravity returned having me fall hardly onto granite and yet despite hurting I laughed painfully trying to catch a breath. Suddenly familiar recognition of being used like Tartarus had made everything seemingly too opportunistic to not ignore, "You want a tool for your task. Get a stone, leave and that's it! But you can't, so you got me and I say, why should I help you?" I fired off listing off points to have it remain standing in place either infuriated, bemused or possibly outright furious based on lightning bolts starting to crackle meaningfully trying to display control. Yet it only an opposite reaction to have me lean back dismissively.

Not so funny when someone knows what you're trying to do, and I'm not even in your psyche. I commented rather smugly when an irritating sense of desire filtered through my own brain. I spoke conversationally seeking an obvious act which it'd infuriated refused, "I help you, you help me and we both get what we desire most. Or you waste time when that daemon gains strength, I won't lift a finger to tell you Esdainn...I never fail to keep my word and I will do all in my power as acting-inquisitor of Ordos Malleus to stop any daemonic foe, or die trying."

Looking upward impishly smug as said cowl masked figure loomed over myself eerily stiff and unnaturally rigid. You dare tempt I, or 'She Who Thirsts' so insolently? I stared to scoff all too easily, "Aren't you going to say perfection is temptation, or whatever it'd said to me months ago? Not interested because I learned painfully clear, if I have desire it's to protect to my friends and banish the daemon back to the warp where it belongs. Esdainn you saw inside my mind, I've seen enough of temptation to not care."

My worried thoughts returned when it knelt down to place a gloved finger against a temple again. I didn't hide it, or pretend to believe I'd assist it out of genuine will alone. Am I lying, or is pride alone too much to bend? I dared to ask amused when lightning turned into thunder as a masked Esdainn hands twitched when asking verbally, "Superior needs inferior, makes me wonder whose what and whether I should humor your help in hindsight. Or should I believe you can succeed alone to prove me wrong, right?"

This once imposing Esdainn's unseen frustration might as well been openly when it sat down deliberately withholding psychic might restrained. Up close I noticed armor uniquely designed with symbolic images, it'd been weaved and some where gruesome imagery of a laughing daemonic figure. I frowned more so when details of gender were capably imagined, if anything I'd peg it to be female possibly or maybe male yet neither stood out enough. But two limbs settled on serenely settling as though pondering seriously, or gauged what had been offered in a fairly insane manner seeking reasonable expectation.

You cannot face 'She Who Thirsts' as you are now, nor ever mon'keigh. It spoke in high gothic far more plainer as though it'd been considering options carefully and methodically. You are simply human, a flawed brute and more so your mind is far too inept. One hand arose to showcase a small space next to my eyes before widening exponentially, a sign showcasing not of intelligence but of what I'd seen previously. Humans weren't capable to view beings, or other such details without breaking us to go mad with infallible sensations, or least to tear us asunder it'd seem.

"But someone within that stone isn't as inept as you'd put it?" I pointed out to another part of a vision to which it nodded, but gravely informed me. Lords of Phoenix's will not care, nor share sympathy save for destruction of your being, mon'keigh. They'd not care, nor hesitate to destroy your entirety if only just to starve off 'She Who Thirsts' as per their will alone. I remained quiet understanding if I'd accepted help from that green glowing stone, it'd destroy me and not because of intentional desire but simply for harboring a being too strong for myself to contend against. Yet I had little option to only find alternatives, so I didn't think twice to do.

"Could you be able to convey my intentions, to who's ever inside that stone?" I hedged a fairly reasonable question given they were probably of the same species to which an Esdainn went quiet initially. It'd make sense given I was now truly a heretic for actively seeking assistance, I quelled disgust and anxiety to do what needed to be done for my mission's sake alone. Daemons took priority over purity, if anything the Ordos Malleus teachings were iron-clad and nothing more had to be upheld given Tartarus's disappearance. And the Emperor alone knew I'd be judged once I had to face those determining my fate, or I'd die doing what was right in holy missions ordained.

Minutes passed within a shroud of serene tranquility as the Esdainn itself pulled out a small pouch of clacking material. I perked up to sit up facing it immediately as no words psychically were around to have me left in suspended curiosity. Partially tell myself to ease back, I obeyed and watched perplexed when it began tracing subtle psychic energy to glower into alien symbols burning along loose dirt, metal and stone beneath us. It aligned polished stones of green, blue, black, white and other mixed colors all harboring internal golden symbols I'd not ever understand entirely.

But one pale gem was placed in front of me as it withdrew an elegant knife. Hold your hand out, mon'keigh. It'll be...enlightening. Slowly I did so palm exposed as a thin edge easily drew blood as another glove tilted my own to have it drip soundly downward. An entire pale stone absorbed crimson to turn a darkened red near blackened coloration yet fire sparked around naturally coming into will, I looked up as my own reflection greeted curious eyes. An Esdainn still pulled my hand towards a center of an exact thirteen apart of my own place.

Psychic tendrils gradually began pulling my own consciousness to channel what I'd taken too naturally. Fire brightly came from an ample source to burn between us, I swore the shroud darkened as light faded to obscured shadows. My blood covered stone hovered easily to drift to settle within said flames as it parted leaving itself unhindered, or burned as thirteen shifted slowly. I looked over seeing two open palms curling back middle digits, to point three upward as I sat back internally uneasy yet determined to go through with what heresy warned absolutely in the Imperial Creed. But daemonic foes weren't capable to be just destroyed by mortal men, but I had too.

Electric bolts formed to meet into one central location above the fire and blood being possibly judged, or viewed by thirteen glowering objects. It formed a sphere showcasing the silver mask which hadn't moved, or twitched save for my eyes blinking naturally. Fingers triangulated subtly moved at first, or curled when images of various coloration made me wince several times, yet a fire started grow to reach upwards coming into contact with electrified bolts. There was a brief crackling and writhing of elements battling for vivid collision of will. But through out everything I hadn't backed away to stand firm in the face of an unknowable presence.

"Blood of earth, soil and will of fire, heed our word of warning." I stared rigidly to hear voices from not of an Esdainn, or the elemental melding in front. I channeled psychic power to witness faded figures within a shroud stilling, an ever distant and whispered amount of masks each more fearsome than the next shimmer into existence. All eye sockets were colored bright in red, green, pink or even blue to hover near the masked psyker who seemingly shuddered quietly. My eyes looked to each in turn to realize any one of these projections, they'd be able to smother or outright erase everything I'd ever imagine easily.

The voices melded into a baritone of undeniable power and anger, "You sully yourself to dare taint our presence, will of fire or not." I refused to cower in front of unseen entities that seemed ideally similar to daemonic, "Then I dare to speak to you, I need help to fight a daemon here in this city and I will not hesitate to die if I do." Surges of psychic weight thundered to ominously produce lightning which nearly struck my eyes out. But they'd been intentionally directed to garner fear, or shock to which I held firm clutching a metallic purity seal which glowered in warmth. I wasn't going to fear daemons, or whatever these entities appeared as either.

"Insolent inferior of blood, flesh and soul bound as the Anathema, to demand of us?" I shook my head once to convey earnest truth to iron it what I'd desired, "I demand nothing but to ask of help with what manifests in this city. A daemon of power, to manipulate souls to damnation and sings as though it's simply as thus. Esdainn whose in front of me showed a Lord of Phoenix inside a stone it seeks, I'm asking you if it'd help me fight and be returned to the one whose seeking it, as I want to protect those who I care to vengefully make this daemon wish it'd never tried tempting myself." I explained sternly to stare into masks which were swaying, or drifting inwards as if inspecting me closer to see psychic power burning hotly in seething hatred.

Darkness smothered all light save for one fire and lightning struggling to consume another. Bluish yellow and heated orange eerie provided gloomy uneasiness as I sat awaiting a response. It didn't take long, or remotely sound willing yet as lightning crackled thunderously across an entire shroud's interior angrily. Forcefully pain caused me to gasp lightly, "You demand nothing of us, to give everything of thou's word? Insolent blood of earth, soil and flesh to dance with a foe, of our reckoning and yet stares unhindered of ignorance."

Glaring lividly I bit out words to ease into unseen pressures capable to crush my skull just to smirk happily, "Death is death. You get everything, I get nothing and yet you hesitate to fight a daemon who desires tempted perfection! Is that fear, or laziness to ignore a duel of genuine will?" I provoked partially to see lightning crackle furious as a shock sent me to hunching over gnashing both sets of teeth. I held back yelps to stare back up enraged to see fire consuming lightning in an yielding spiral as another voice appeared far more intrigued.

Undeniably ancient to rumble in prattle tones of guttural interest and sheer anticipation, "Does thou inferior's fire seek to brightly scorch, destroy and withstand of my blade, blood of earth?" I never hesitated given I felt power unlike anything, it'd be more than enough and ironically I'd never wanting anything less to absolutely burn a mask of nightmares into dust. My voice only proclaimed one promise, "As long as I get to burn that fecking daemon back to the warp, I'll take the heat and maybe learn to like it, for being a foolish mon'keigh to uphold his purpose, as of Ordos Malleus I never will rest until a daemon is vanquished."

Movement within fire in front of my gaze hovered and molded into a blade of molten flame. Blood seeped around a handle to place itself upon two palms I'd unintentionally raised as rumbling laughter greeted burning ears, "Thou flame inferior, or blood does not hide truth of ilk's desire! Then perish in your desires, mortal child, Khaela Mensha Khaine cares not for blood, but of fire and vengeance ordained." It boomed laughing as flames met my flesh and everything turned red following screams I'd unleashed immediately. Nothing came close, nothing would or be close to the sheer feeling of a soul being burned alive.

I fell backward straining to with hold screaming into wheezing growls of fury as molten flames curled akin to a serpent. It traversed downward enveloping blackening flesh which protested, only to smother it and had begun folding inward as fingers clenched tightly. Yes, I feel something different! I thought smiling savagely to feel an internal heat so potent, too uncontrollable and I stood up to lash out vowing happily to know I'd safe guard those unable to defend themselves, "I hope you seek me out, daemon! You're going to burn after I'm fecking done with you, by my God-Emperor's will to be upheld and Khaela Mensha Khaine's decree to vanquish Chaos's presence back to the warp, or I die trying granting time for another to do so."

Psychic fueled flames blazed into explosive existence as a long tangible sword cut across air to scorch lines where it'd been all too nimbly. I watched memorized to see a symbol burning the pommel, as another grotesque mask's eye sockets glimmered a sinister orange light and strength filled my being to never again fear what desired to corrupt my soul. Yet if I died doing what I'd been tasked to destroy, it'd not matter entirely. I was only human, a fact that would never change and never would I allow myself to be anything less but a monster who'd make daemons know one thing. They were going to fear a monster who'd just been born anew.

End Chapter XVII

Author's Note: Yup, that happened and now everyone can just do a few things. Scream in sheer denial, call him a heretic, or call him the most unfathomable unluckiest son of a bitch to grace this universe since the Necron's finding the damned C'tan. Let me tell you, I was laughing like a maniac because everything here can be feasibly attempted, or outright possible because of the fundamentals that are in place at this present time frame of Marcos's soul, mind and body driven by a youthful innocent outlook to be exploited grimly assured.

As for the whole 'Esdainn' term, it's a real term in the lore and fairly nice of usage to pinpoint what exactly can it'd do. Ordos Malleus itself is a vague collective of Inquisitors who battle daemons, daily and constantly to seek out ways to prevail over them. Some do it traditionally, or radically yet both are accepted in accordance to the main priority of defeating Chaos's presence, it's simply that important and the Emperor has intervened in canon to do some questionably...unique blessings, I mean if a living Saint is technically (being very careful to not get an Inquisitor on my back) is considered an Imperial Daemon?

Well, let's just say I have a hunch cooperation isn't unnaturally insane to think so. But it was difficult trying to visualize 'rituals' since I sure as hell, don't or even understand them logically speaking. I did my best to try, but I think someone in the review section will point flaws and critique it to get me clearer on said sorcery. I'm a big fan of Thousand Sons...so hint, hint if we ever reach that point and I bet a lot of people are going to get eagerly hungry for such outcomes to inevitably maybe appear. I don't know yet but right now you're getting one aspect of my intention.

Unnatural Sorcery in a universe where Gods and Daemons exist, mostly. Overall I'm satisfied to finally kick off all the puzzle pieces to fit into place, we get what need done and get to enjoy the fruits of our labor. In this case, if anyone has need to repent and start spouting heretical accusations (I'd humor them for sheer joy) you may do so, I'm still debating whether if this is even going to go relatively good at all. I know it's probably going to get worse, or simply so maddening we just might see where the limit Marcos has to learn...sadly, or not.

And before everyone screams at me about, 'How is he this stupid yet smart enough to do that?" Considering fairly that Tartarus hasn't told him, or he'd have knowledge of xeno races yet? Has no idea of mythology of entities maybe besides the Chaos Gods, daemons and corruption to encounter something incredibly different? Plus he's aware of the Imperial Creed, it's a give or take situation where he has to get things done. Daemons are bad, Unknown Xenos are secondary and unfortunately he's doing what an actual Ordos Malleus inquisitional agent usually does...to uphold their purpose, if not be judged fairly quickly by others who view them as internal threats within the Inquisition itself.

But to end my thoughts, it's Warhammer 40,000 which is ironically so insane it's that good. That's how I justify it, so we'll find out next chapter and leading up to the stage being set. So everyone have a good week, be safe and you know what I seek. Do so, be rewarded and feeling great knowing I'm hitting my strides to love writing.

Leave a review, it's all I desire presently.