Summary;
Arandur is uncomfortable with the growing bond between his friend and the human Captain. Thalindra still couldn't peer at the treads to ascertain the danger they were in.

Elyria prepares a show that will certainly test the limits of our contestants, while the mysterious Culsan has shown up with a particular interest in Marcus, Vyle shares this interest, however, one is born of morbid fascination and the other of duty.

The "Merry Band" gets ready to fight as the coming hour approaches, the Captain leading the charge as all well-armed take their stance upon the lines of fate.


Shadows of the Dark City 16

Marcus was sweating, his hands nervously twitching on the handguard and grip of his lasgun. He couldn't deny that he was beyond nervous. The vibrations from the thousands above, cheering as the fight approached, only further cemented the reality of the situation: they were all about to be thrown to the proverbial lions—in complete darkness.

His entire group was in a similar state, Thalindra the only exception. The Farseer stood stoically, bladed staff in hand with her gaze fixed ahead.

Yet, despite her composure, the captain knew she was just as anxious as the rest of them, if not more. Marcus seriously hoped the plan would work, because aside from their Eldar allies, the group were at a severe disadvantage against whatever Elyria and her kin had prepared for them.

The platform beneath them shifted, beginning its ascent. The sudden movement caused their breathing to become more erratic and shallow, especially among the humans. Marcus' brow, now drenched in sweat, allowed warm, salty droplets to trickle down his face, stinging his eyes and cheeks.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry from anticipation. Then, like a whisper in the depths of his mind, Thalindra's gentle voice reached him.

We will get through this. Stay focused, and trust in your skills.

He nodded, trying to use her words to steady his racing mind. But before he could dwell on them further, the moment arrived.

Blinding light from the arena above flooded the dark chamber as the platform rose into view. All of them grimaced as their eyes were momentarily overwhelmed. The deafening roar of the crowd only worsened the disorientation.

Blinking rapidly, their vision adjusted to the new environment, and as soon as it did, the humans gasped.

The arena was a near-perfect recreation of a small Imperial town. Concrete houses, two stories high with metal roofs, were scattered throughout the battlefield—some intact, others reduced to rubble.

What caught their attention the most, however, was the towering spire of a church in the far northern corner. More impressive still was the sheer scale of the setup. Every battle they had fought so far had taken place in much smaller arenas, yet somehow, this one was vast—far larger than what they had believed the arena's limits to be.

Then, the all-too-familiar voice of the Narrator rang out, riling up the already rabid crowd.

"Well, denizens of the Dark City, I welcome you to another marvelous spectacle, sponsored and organized by Lady Elyria!"

The audience erupted into frenzied cheers, some even foaming at the mouth in anticipation of the carnage to come.

From her private balcony, Elyria stepped forward as a spotlight illuminated her figure. She seized the momentum left by the Narrator, her voice smooth and commanding.

"Children of Commorragh, I bring you not just another bloodbath to sate your thirst. No—I bring you a battle of wits and endurance. A display of prowess. Art in its purest form—visceral and cruel!"

The moment she finished speaking, the crowd roared again, their hunger for violence unmistakable.

Marcus felt a shiver crawl up his spine, creeping to his skull. Thousands of predatory eyes were locked onto them, gleeful at the thought of their impending deaths. The sheer, unrelenting malice in their gaze was beyond dreadful.

Thalindra stepped to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. The moment her fingers touched him, a soothing calm washed over his mind. The despair and discomfort twisting in his gut faded, and his breathing steadied.

The Imperial did not know what she had done, but he was grateful for it.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome," was her short and simple answer.

Soon, the Succubus's voice rang out again, echoing through the vast, stadium-like structure.

"This, dear viewers, is a spectacle to savor—one for the ages! And today, we have two very special challengers gracing our arena. One, sponsored by none other than Acharon Vyle, one of the most infamous Haemonculi in this part of our glorious city!"

The crowd erupted in cheers as another spotlight flickered to life, illuminating a nearby lounge adjacent to Elyria's own. Standing there, bathed in the harsh glow, was a familiar figure—the very Drukhari who had "healed" them.

The sight of him sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over Marcus. Vyle stood motionless, utterly unbothered by the piercing light—not even blinking. But what unsettled Marcus the most was the way the Haemonculus's luminous eyes were locked onto his own, unblinking and unreadable.

Of all the thousands of Xenos surrounding them, he was the most terrifying. The arena was filled with depraved beings who craved only bloodshed, yet Vyle betrayed nothing—no excitement, no anticipation. His gaze remained fixed solely on Marcus, unwavering and unreadable. The mystery, the unknown, was far worse when it came to the Drukhari than their predictable treachery and violent ways.

Elyria paused, expecting the Haemonculus to speak, but he remained utterly still. Seeing that he would not capitalize on the moment, the Succubus chose to conclude her speech, leaving the Narrator to do his job.

"But we also have a very special challenger who sought me out. He is here, in this very arena. However, I warn you, dear viewers, he is hard to spot… With that being said—let the games begin!"

The Narrator wasted no time reclaiming his role.

"Let the fumes of chance fill your lungs, challengers! May the Muses of the arena bless this carnage, now may you all draw blood for our amusement. BEGIN!"

A loud horn blasted its hellish sound as a loud hissing sound erupted around them as a thick fog poured into the battlefield, rapidly blanketing the ground. It spread like the aftermath of a firefight, the air thick with dust, concrete, and powder. A strange, unfamiliar scent clung to the mist, adding an unsettling element to the already tense atmosphere.

There was something ironic about the theatrics of it all. Instead of simply throwing them into a relentless cycle of combat until death claimed them, the Drukhari went to great lengths to craft a performance—a carefully orchestrated nightmare meant to be experienced as much as witnessed.

Visibility was greatly reduced. They could make out the shapes of the buildings, but most of the landscape was shrouded in a thick blanket of smog that permeated everything. However, the silhouette of the church remained visible, its bell tower standing as a clear landmark in the haze.

"Right. Remember the plan—stick together. Once we get a good read on the terrain, we'll position ourselves better."

Everyone nodded except for Arandur, who remained silent behind the group. Marcus took the lead, moving cautiously toward the nearest structure, his lasgun raised and ready to fire at anything that emerged from the fog. Their boots crunched loudly against the gravel underfoot, while Kais, ironically, made less noise as his hooves moved across the uneven ground. Unsurprisingly, the Eldars movement was unnervingly quiet.

Despite their differing footsteps, they advanced together, their progress slow as the humans covered every possible angle. Soon, they reached the back of a two-story house, each member of the group spreading out evenly along the wall. Marcus raised a hand, signaling them to stop. Some of them muttered questions on why they stopped until he pointed to his ear, making his intent clear—they would pause and listen for any signs of movement before proceeding.


The moment Culsan was raised from the ground on the platform, he quickly scanned the area around him. For a brief instant, he was taken aback by the scene prepared for their fight. It was a near-perfect recreation of a typical Imperial small town, down to the grandiose church of the false cult of the Imperium.

But the Alpha Legionnaire wasted no time dwelling on it. His keen eyes immediately identified the most advantageous sites in the area, especially with the thick blanket of white fog obscuring the streets—the church's belltower. The proud silhouette loomed above the mist, imposing even in partial concealment.

Without hesitation, he sprinted toward it. Despite the modifications to his armor that dampened his footsteps, his boots still made a noticeable noise as they struck the gravel beneath him. He knew that stealth was paramount, that sound could betray him, so he pushed himself harder, determined to reach the solid tiles of the "sacred" chapel as quickly as possible.

Reaching the church, he paused before its large, ornate doors. Crafted from reinforced metal, they were intended to deter invaders. The irony was not lost on him—this entire structure was nothing more than a crude imitation, a mockery of what his kind had built across the galaxy. Even with his ingrained disdain for the Imperium, he couldn't suppress a flicker of anger at the Drukhari's arrogance in creating this facsimile.

A mere replica for a pathetic bloodsport. The intricate craftsmanship of the engravings and elaborate carvings on the door sent a clear message: to the Xenos, the architecture, the legacy, the very way of life of humanity was so insignificant that it could be copied effortlessly and used as a backdrop for their savage entertainment.

Shaking off his momentary anger, Culsan reached for the door and pushed it open delicately. The hinges let out a faint creak, a sign that they could use some oil. Stepping inside with practiced caution, he let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior.

The church was adorned with statues of saints, each positioned in the corners of the main hall. Along the walls, grand paintings of Imperial saints stood tall and proud, their depictions glorifying moments from humanity's history as seen through the lens of the Ecclesiarchy. Culsan spared them only a passing glance before moving forward.

He approached the staircase, the polished marble floor emitting a soft sound under his armored boots. His Bolter was drawn, the weapon raised to clear every angle as he ascended through the structure, his movements precise and methodical.

He moved toward the farthest wing on the east side of the structure, where the door leading to the tower stood. Just as he had done upon entering, he carefully checked each angle and possible entry point. He knew he had to be especially cautious—the Drukhari were infamous for their use of traps and ambushes to nullify an enemy's advantages. But he was well-versed in guerrilla tactics and took extra care to ensure that the path to the tower was free of booby traps.

For the moment, all was clear. Satisfied, he took the opportunity to set up his own traps. His resources were limited—just two krak grenades scavenged from a previous target, a long strand of rusty metal wire, and a small bell he had stolen from a church on one of the planets he had visited.

Working quickly but methodically, he positioned the traps in strategic locations. If, by some unlikely chance, his enemies breached his position, the traps would serve as an early warning system, buying him precious moments to respond accordingly.


The moment the bars on his reinforced coffin dropped, he knew it was time to hunt. He could already catch the faint scent of prey—distant, but that hardly mattered to him.

Jezza took his time surveying the arena, noting every detail. It was subpar. The Drukhari certainly thought they could surpass human ingenuity, but just from the scent of the materials used, he could tell this was nothing more than a poor imitation, crafted by fools who had no understanding of proper Imperial engineering.

He was no engineer, yet even he could see through their attempt. They had captured the visual appearance of an Imperial town, but they had failed to capture its soul.

What was the value of an image without transcendence? He understood that well—that was why he had given himself in service to the Ruinous Powers. There, beyond the shackles of the Imperium's blind fools, he had found his true self.

Speaking of which, he could smell them now—three human males, one female, and, of all things, a Tau. But more intriguingly…

Oh, now this was interesting.

Their scent, unlike that of their Dark Kin, was soft, discreet—like the ozone before an oncoming storm. He flared his nostrils, inhaling deeply like a hunting hound, seeking confirmation of what his instincts already told him.

Two Asuryani. One male. One female.

"Delightful…" he purred, beginning his march toward the source of the scent. His jagged, metal-filled maw salivated at the prospect of devouring such an exquisite meal.

The soul was about transcendence—and he would consume theirs, slowly, methodically, savoring them as one would a prime cut of meat. A giddy excitement crept into his step. The possibilities were endless now, and for the first time in a long while, he felt truly motivated to hunt.

And to play with his food.

They didn't call him the Defiler by chance…


The humans stood quietly trying to hear any noise that could give away the localization of some threat, Kais stood mimicking them looking around with his red eyes searching the smog for something.

She and Arandur have not picked up anything until now. Both were in silence trying to wait for some sign. However, this was broken the moment she felt it, as if a cool chilling breeze had hit her neck. Every hair on her body stood up, a cold icy grip clawed at her gut as her breaths became

more urgent and ragged.

She turned to Arandur who appeared pale, his eyes also having the same reaction. This could mean one thing, one she dreaded even acknowledging, but also because she refused to believe the Dark Kin would stoop so low for a simple blood sport.

"Did you feel it?" Thalindra asked the Dire Avenger in Eldari, urgency clear in her voice.

"Yes, I'm still feeling throughout my whole body." Arandur stoicism had been shook to its core.

Both knew well what that meant to their horror. Unblinking, their eyes scanned around them paranoically they looked frantically around, slowly each brandishing their weapons.

Marcus crouched, weapon in hand, listening intensely for any movement in the area. However, the sound of light movements and quick breaths behind him drew his attention. He turned to see both Eldar standing with their backs to him, their demeanor unreadable and tense.

When he looked closer, a sense of dread settled in his stomach. Even though they were Xenos, it was clear they were terrified of something. Their sharp, erratic glances in every direction confirmed it.

He followed their gaze, scanning the mist-covered surroundings, but saw nothing beyond the thick fog that clung to the arena. Whatever it was, staying in the open under these conditions was a terrible idea. They needed to find cover in one of the buildings scattered throughout the arena and fortify their position with whatever they had.

There were two contestants in this twisted game—one Elyria had described as "hard to spot," and the other was undoubtedly some abomination created by the vile being who had tended to them after the last fight. Whatever lurked in the mist was enough to unsettle two highly skilled Eldar. The real question was which enemy was worse—the unknowable one or the one that was likely a nightmare-made flesh?

Without a word, Marcus signaled for the group to follow him. Moving as quickly as possible, they rushed around the nearest house, their footsteps crunching loudly against the gravel.

There was no time to waste. Marcus ran to the front of the building, searching for a door, but his frustration grew when he saw that the entrance was blocked, rubble and large stones sealing off any viable way inside.

Cursing under his breath, he sprinted toward what looked like another house, but their hurried steps once again made an awful racket against the silent, fog-filled arena. The next building had an entrance, but its roof had partially collapsed onto the first floor, leaving them exposed and making any attempt at fortification difficult.

"Shit." Marcus couldn't stop himself from muttering in frustration. Then, he remembered the largest structure in sight—the towering silhouette of the church, its form barely visible through the dense smog at the edge of town.

Taking a deep breath, he broke into a sprint, his boots pounding against the gravel. The others followed, their footsteps forming a mocking rhythm, a desperate cadence of fear and urgency.

The church was getting closer, but before Marcus could take another step, he suddenly felt himself being lifted off the ground. His feet dangled in the air.

"What the—" He didn't get to finish his sentence before he was unceremoniously thrown over Thalindra's shoulder. He barely managed to keep his grip on his weapon as he struggled against the unexpected shift. To his surprise, Janessa was draped over the Farseer's other arm, looking just as stunned as he felt.

Thalindra was running at full speed as well as her weapon who was floating just behind her as she went. Arandur was right behind her, carrying Darius and a very angry Elias, both flailing in confusion. Kais sprinted after them, struggling to keep pace with the Eldar.

"Chan eil ùine againn... Tha e faisg," Thalindra muttered in Eldari, her voice barely more than a whisper against the wind.

Marcus didn't understand the words, but the look in her eyes—the wide pupils and the unsettling gleam of pure fear—told him everything he needed to know.

Unceremoniously, she turned sharply to the left, a sturdy wooden door blocking her path. With a surge of her powers, she sent it flying off its hinges, clearing the way for them to enter. The moment they were inside, she let them go, while Arandur simply released both humans onto the ground. They grunted, ready to argue, but Marcus quickly shut them up before they could utter a word, pressing a finger to his lips.

Kais managed to catch up, his breaths ragged as the opening on his forehead flared with each aggressive intake and release of air. The Fire Warrior crouched in the center of the room; his head downcast as he tried to regain his bearings.

The interior of the home was certainly spartan, with very little furniture scattered about. A simple rug lay on the floor, accompanied by an uncomfortable-looking yellow couch. Empty portraits hung on the walls, and barren bookshelves stood in random places throughout the supposed living room.

Without a word, Thalindra called forth that eerie smoke of hers, drawing strange symbols in the air. The moment she finished, the bookshelves began to disassemble, each becoming a neat plank that floated swiftly yet elegantly toward the windows, covering them to ensure nothing could see in or out. The couch, along with the remaining wooden parts, moved into position where the door had been, forming a makeshift barricade. Finally, the door itself lifted back onto its hinges, locking in place as if it had never been torn away.

In seconds, they barricaded the first floor. Thalindra, however, suddenly halted, placing her right hand on her forehead, while her left finally caught the floating staff that had followed her as if by magic.

She was focused on something, her face scrunched up in a frown as she mumbled in her strange alien language. Then, she reopened her eyes and moved toward the door, Arandur following suit, both standing guard at the now barricaded doorway.

Marcus was beyond worried. The way both Xenos reacted to whatever was lurking outside was enough to fill his gut with dread. He stepped lightly toward the Farseer.

"What in the Emperor's good name is happening?" he whispered, letting his confusion and unease seep into his voice.

Thalindra kept her gaze fixed on the wall, her eyes moving slowly from left to right until they stopped. She was focused on something—something he doubted was just the stone wall in front of her.

"It crossed the entire arena in a matter of minutes and is nearly on top of us."

Her tone was grave, her eyes locked onto a single spot.

"It is just outside. Waiting..."

Her words struck a primal part of his brain, one he was used to feeling but actively chose to suppress beneath layers of training and battle-hardened numbness. For a moment, however, fear took hold.

"What by the Holy Throne is outside? What could possibly be so horrible that it made you both grab us and run as if we were toddlers?"

Before Thalindra could answer, Arandur cut in, his eyes trained on the cracks between the planks barricading the window.

"A servant of Sai'lanthresh is upon us."

"Okay, hold up! What does that even mean?"

The Dire Avenger opened his mouth to answer, but the Seer was quicker.

"We don't have time to discuss this now. Just know that whatever is out there is far more dangerous than our previous challenges."


The moment the fight started she had felt it on the other side of the arena. The drive of a predator in search of prey, the killing intent, the hunger, and the eagerness to consume flesh—all of it had struck her in the first few minutes. But it was what came after that made her realize exactly what they were facing.

That drive, that thirst for their flesh, had suddenly given way to a sensation that any Eldar knew well—the presence of a proxy of That Which Shall Not Be Named. This was no mere beast, even though its aura resembled one. This was a servant of a dark god, one she dreaded and loathed to no end.

Both she and Arandur had faced similar beings in combat before, especially given that the primary enemy of her home was the servants of She Who Thirsts. She was no mere initiate who would lose focus or allow fear to dominate her will. But the presence of such a creature here confirmed two things. First, the Drukhari would not hesitate to bring such disgusting beings inside their walls. Second, of all the threats she was used to facing, some of the most dangerous were those directly touched by the Princess of Pleasures.

All who gorged themselves on the essence of that despicable god became riddled with vices, but the nature of those vices varied from individual to individual. This made most encounters unpredictable due to their volatile desires and wants. Some were like those who served Khorne, lusting for the blood of their victims, feasting upon their gore as they defiled their still-warm bodies. Others were more calculating, their desires akin to a predator stalking its prey through the underbrush.

These were the more dangerous ones from experience; their approach suggested that killing and maiming were not their top priorities. The need to observe, to wait for the perfect moment to strike, indicated that the vessel of such a torpid will wanted to play with its prey—to feast upon the still-living, still-struggling animal.

That was the case now. As they ran, the creature was tracking them. Thalindra did not know exactly how, but she knew she had an idea of where they were. The noise had not given away their position—of that she was certain—yet still, he was coming.

No, It was the only way to describe this detestable abomination. The Seer could not help but feel deeply irked by the mere prospect of being in its presence.

What truly shocked her, however, was how quickly it had closed the distance between them—far too quickly. That was the moment she decided that the best course of action was to drag Marcus and his men into the first structure she saw. Arandur had been just as quick to pick up on the same thing. He might not have been a Farseer like her, but it was impossible for any Asuryani to remain unaware of the presence of the Great Enemy—especially when its intentions were so disturbingly clear.

That was why the moment did not call for an explanation but for action.

"Marcus, order your men to be ready. At any moment, it could engage us!"

The Captain did not argue, relaying instructions in his usual primitive militaristic way. Ellias took the position, aiming at the right window. The human healer, Darius, waited with his weapon pointed at the window on the left, while Marcus and Janessa ensured they kept watch on the stairs.

Kais, on the other hand, pointed his carbine toward the door, his eyes on the sight, finger on the trigger.

As if sensing their movements, the creature leaped onto the house, landing with a loud crash upon the tiled roof. The ceiling groaned under its sheer weight before caving in.

Thalindra reacted instantly, using her runes to cast a temporary barrier around them. Even if the beast came close, the barrier would buy them time to fire upon it and possibly kill it.

Moments after she finished casting, it came in a pink flash. Marcus and Janessa opened fire, but the blur of motion easily evaded their shots, dashing at full speed toward the Seer. The barrier, however, did its job, stopping the creature in its tracks.

Even for her Eldar mind, it was fast. One moment, it was upon them, delivering a swift and powerful strike against the psychic wall. The next, it was running through the walls as if they were made of sand.

But the attack was not over. She heard the familiar clank of a grenade hitting the ground inside the barrier. Without wasting a second, she used her powers to fling the object away, sending it hurtling toward the stairs, where it exploded with a deafening roar.

The barrier took the brunt of the blast, but the impact sent a sharp pain through her skull. The force of such a strong explosion so close to her mind strained her focus, but she managed to hold the barrier intact. And because of that, Thalindra was able to save them one more time…

The entire structure around them began to tremble, the vibrations growing stronger until the house started to collapse. Seizing the momentum, she used the bubble of psychic energy to push them away from the crumbling ruins, shielding them from the falling debris.

All of them were quick to make a circle formation, making a perimeter around them, if he decided to strike them in the open, they would be ready to give him hell.

The attack did not breach the barrier, but what worried her was that his speed had been almost enough to reach inside before she had finished casting it. Still, he had been quick enough to deliver a small "present" inside, and if not for her keen and well-trained mind, they would have been done for.

But she had glimpsed its form—just for a moment, yet long enough for both her and the Dire Avenger to be certain of who they were facing.

'He is a Chaos Marine, Emperor's Children, probably', came the matter-of-fact voice of the Dire Avenger. While their enemy was highly agile—even by Eldar standards—he had not been fast enough to elude their perception, especially that of two well-trained warriors.

'It was quick, but I saw distinct markings—daemonic runes of power. Is he a user of the Ether's powers?' Arandur contemplated within her mind.

'No, that is certain. I have not sensed any conjuration of any kind since my mind's eye first became aware of his presence. If it were of such a brood, he would have already used its powers to wreak havoc from a distance. Also, this attack was a clear attempt to gauge our reaction and firepower. If he communed in the embrace of the Dark Powers, he would already know exactly who he was dealing with.'

Thalindra tried to explain as quickly as she could, knowing that the presence of the Chaos Marine could be felt just around the corner of one of the houses in front of them. Visibility was nonexistent, but she could hear his ragged breathing—the eager, depraved hunger of the demon-spawn stalking them. Even the scent of dried blood and rotting flesh clung to the air, assaulting her sensitive nose.

But, like last time, he did not engage. He stood there for a moment before running away, putting considerable distance between himself and their group. His preemptive strike had served to analyze them, to devise a way to approach them—that much was certain. And to her frustration, Thalindra knew they had given him enough to plan accordingly.

However, he had also revealed something he had not intended—something the Seer had not realized earlier. The Chaos Marine was neither a Witch nor a Conjurer; otherwise, this entire approach would have been far too dangerous for someone who could simply unleash daemonic powers from afar.

But if he was not either of those things, then it meant he had managed to track them through more natural means. Given his overall demeanor and the way he had been stalking them, it was easy for the Farseer to deduce that he was using one of his senses—most likely smell.

Thalindra had faced his kind before. Many of these Marines enhanced their senses, so they could indulge in their vices and depravity in ever more profound ways. A warrior capable of such tracking abilities was not shocking to her—it was no novelty. In fact, it explained how he had known their position from the very start.

She turned to Marcus, who still had his lasgun trained on an unseen point in the fog.

"Let's retreat to a new position we can fortify. I've figured something out that can help us beat this thing. Also, while he has run away from us for now, he will strike again—this was just a scouting maneuver on his part."

The Captain felt a pang of genuine confusion at her words but chose to listen, setting aside his questions for later.


Jezza now knew exactly what kind of enemies he was facing. The humans were Cadians—an Officer, a Corporal carrying some powerful guns, a crippled woman with a scoped Lasrifle, and a Combat Medic. There was also a Tau of the Fire Caste, armed with their infamous Xeno weaponry—nothing noteworthy from the perspective of the Emperor's Children.

The ones who truly interested him were the two Eldar, who stood out like a sore thumb among the odd group. A Dire Avenger clad in ragged armor and a Farseer in an equally disheveled state. His keen mind and sharp eyesight had allowed him to identify all who stood in his way.

However, he hadn't been quick enough to inflict any real damage. Both Eldar had anticipated his moves—likely thanks to the Xeno witch. Nevertheless, this was exactly what he had been looking for when he decided to engage first.

To assess the skill and weaponry of his targets, Jezza had to acknowledge that it was quite a challenge. The Seer had managed to block his strike and shield them from his little "souvenir," while the Dire Avenger had positioned himself just behind her. In the end, even if she hadn't raised the barrier in time, Jezza was certain the warrior would have acted to defend her.

These Eldar were different from most of his victims. The Seer had been onto him from the very beginning, and the fear in their sweat betrayed their awareness of his presence. But what truly set them apart was their response. Most Eldar, when confronted by someone like him, either attempted to flee in cowardice and despair or recklessly charged at him, letting their pride blind them to the reality of the situation. When it came to their kind and him, they were prey, and Jezza was the predator.

But these two were different. At first, they had seemed to act cowardly, only to surprise him by using the building to gain an advantage in their engagement. Amusingly enough, their tactic had worked, despite the smog covering the arena—an environment perfect for him. Even if the witch could track him, without a clear line of sight, she couldn't know what tools he had at his disposal until he decided to bring them out to play.

Jezza was just beginning this game of cat and mouse, but something bothered him. He had heard the announcer mention another party—one that was hard to "spot." It was clear he wasn't the only predator stalking the undergrowth of this little jungle. Yet, despite his keen senses, he had not detected any other presence aside from the group.

Though he hesitated to admit it, this irked him. Throughout his entire life as an Astartes, very few had ever eluded him—his mind was too sharp for that. But if there was indeed another hunter in the arena, this one was completely off the radar. That made them far more dangerous than the known challenge before him.

Regardless, he would deal with the group first, dragging them through the smog to a place where he could take his time defiling their supple and delicious bodies—especially the Eldar. Those were his favorites, the ones he fixated on the most. It was like having a fine piece of well-spiced meat on his plate. The best part was that they weren't just food; they were a source of entertainment—one far more carnal and satisfying.

"Little lambs, little lambs, here I come!"

The big bad wolf had set his sights on the sheep, ready to tear them apart.


Culsan had his sights trained on the group as they moved through the fog. His visor quickly locked onto his target leading the group, the scanners in his helmet already analyzing him for confirmation. Once he was certain that the one in front was his mark, the Alpha Legionnaire began plotting how to handle the situation, especially with the others accompanying him.

Three other humans, all Cadians except for the female. A Tau from the Fire Warrior caste. And two other Xenos who further complicated any approach—a Dire Avenger and a Farseer. According to his helmet's analysis, their sigils suggested they were from the Craftworld of Ulthwé.

Given these conditions, the Astartes knew he had to proceed with caution and patience—two things he had no trouble exercising.

The first phase of his plan was simple: stay put, analyze the battlefield, and gather intelligence so he could accomplish his mission with as little hassle as possible.

That was certainly the plan—until he noticed something moving through the smoke to his right.

It was tall and bulky, yet terrifyingly fast. At first, he couldn't get a clear reading on it. Then, the strange entity began climbing the buildings, slithering through the structures like a serpent. Its speed made it difficult for his helmet's systems to properly identify it.

As it darted through the fog, clearly in pursuit of the group, Culsan caught streaks of bright pink on its armor. He sighed. Only one Legion used such colors.

His suspicions were confirmed when the figure slowed its pace, beginning to stalk the group as they moved toward his position. A moment later, his helmet pinged the identity of the other hostile.

"Emperor's Children."

Culsan exhaled sharply, his mind already recalculating his approach. This was a serious complication. Too many variables, and too much unpredictability—far more than he liked. His strategy would have to shift. He would only fire if absolutely necessary, perhaps using a well-placed shot to convince his target to come with him peacefully, in exchange for the Legionnaire not harming his companions.

But if that thing put his target's life at risk, he would be forced to engage. And if that happened, the effects of his mantle would break. After that, he would have to rely on more conventional stealth methods—something that would be far less effective against a Farseer.

Culsan adjusted his scope, carefully tracking the shape of the other Astartes as he closed in. He would hold his fire for as long as possible. But the moment that monstrosity became an obstacle to his mission, he would make sure its brains, ruined by the constant feeding of pleasure and degeneracy as it was, painted the ground of this forsaken arena.


They were hidden inside another house, this one closer to the church. Their ragged breaths sounded in unison as they took their time to regain their bearings. The only exceptions to their current state were the two Eldar, who stood nonchalantly near the barricaded windows, keeping watch.

"He is still out there. We don't have much time, so we need to make this quick..."

Thalindra spoke as she looked away from her watchpoint, moving toward the group gathered in the middle of the living room.

"Okay, Thalindra, who is he? Because the moment this shit started, you and Arandur have been acting really weird, and it's freaking us out."

Marcus exclaimed as he adjusted the straps of his gun, his eyes frantically going from his men and the door. She considered the question for a moment before answering.

"A Chaos Marine of the Emperor's Children Legion. In other words, a servant of Sai'lanthresh."

The revelation sent a wave of shock and horror through the group. Their breathing grew ragged once more, filled with mounting anxiety. The only one who remained silent and unmoving was Marcus, who held the Seer's gaze.

Their reaction was predictable. The humans in the party had never faced such a foe before. Even the officer stood frozen. To an untrained observer, he might have appeared thoughtful, as if strategizing, but Thalindra could see the truth. She could read his aura and hear his thoughts.

He had faced them before—more than once. He had come face to face with one of them, and each time, he had suffered heavy losses. The presence of traitor Astartes always meant devastating casualties among ordinary Guardsmen.

From his thoughts, she learned what he already knew: it was expected that two-thirds of a force—or even all of it—would be lost in an incursion led by Chaos Marines. Cruel, relentless, and vastly more skilled than any Imperial Guardsman, facing them meant near-certain death in ninety percent of engagements.

The last time Marcus encountered them in battle was the same battle that left him the sole survivor of his regiment for a second time. Now, with the news of their presence, his skin crawled with abject fear. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. His breathing remained controlled, but she knew it was quickening. The only thing keeping him from gasping for air like a drowning man was sheer willpower, forcing him to remain composed.

However, something else caught Thalindra's attention—Corporal Ellias, in the middle of a panic attack.

"We're frakking dead, Darius! Do you hear me? We are screwed! I met one person in my entire life who had faced them before, and she didn't have legs and only one arm! Yeah, the only person I knew who survived them was left a frakking cripple!"

"No, we're not!" Darius shot back. "We have the Emperor on our side! We have bigger numbers! And we also have the support of two elite Xeno warriors! So calm down!"

"Calm down!? Didn't you look at their faces? How they're reacting? They're afraid just like we are! What does that tell you, huh?"

Thalindra could feel Arandur growing angry at the corporal's words, but she quickly signaled for him to stay at his post by the window.

"Answer me, Darius! What does that tell you!? It's obvious to me that we're dead men walking based on their reactions. These Xenos know exactly what kind of monster is out there!"

Both began arguing, Darius trying to calm the corporal while Ellias raved about the inevitability of their deaths by the daemon-spawn hunting them down.

But amid the chaos unfolding in front of her, what caught the Seer's attention was Marcus, who remained completely still, his eyes unblinking. She knew all too well the overwhelming dread that had an iron grip on his soul, yet despite feeling so hopeless and small, the decision he made at that moment surprised her.

"Shut up, both of you."

His tone was calm and utterly unshaken, betraying nothing of his true feelings about the situation. His words made both Guardsmen halt in their tracks and turn toward their officer. Janessa, who had been silently observing the exchange, now had a small smile on her lips.

"If Ellias is right and this is our final battle, our final hour... then it is best that we face it with spite and disgust rather than fear."

He turned toward them, his posture shifting in an instant. His back straightened, and his hands tightened their grip on his weapon. This was no mere frightened human. No, it was clear now that his years of experience and his rank were well-earned, for in front of them stood a leader.

"I will not give a spawn of the Warp the satisfaction of seeing me cower in fear at his approach. If you all want to be a bunch of pansies, feel free, but expect to justify such rotten behavior directly to the Almighty Emperor himself!"

A vein popped on the Imperial Captain's forehead as he spoke.

"If this is our day, boys, remember that soon we will present ourselves before Him. And what will you bring to His feet? The heads of your enemies? Your blood, spilled in defiance against the foes of mankind? Or cowardice—running in fear as they kill you anyway?"

Ellias wanted to retort; that much was clear to the Eldar, who could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions. But he held his tongue, unable to find a counterargument to his officer's words.

"And if you dare to wear the uniform of a Cadian, fight in a regiment of Cadia, and stand beneath its almighty banner, then you had best not act like cowards. Or so help me, by the Emperor's grace, when you stand before His throne, I will kick your asses so hard for shaming me on his presence that even if He forgives you, it won't stop the stomping I'll give you all. Is that clear?"

Jax let out a small "Urah!" in jest at her commander's words, her smile now fully formed as she stared at both Guardsmen—especially Ellias.

With the situation contained, he turned toward her, his eyes cold and determined—though she knew well what lay beneath this facade of bravado.

"We know what we are facing, so now I need to know—how do we defeat it?"

"He is fast, much faster than your reaction time. He is also far stronger and unrelenting to damage, as his ilk thrives on it—very similar to the Dark Kin. His senses are far keener than those of the average human, likely due to modifications performed while in service to his dark master."

Once again, she could feel the dread taking hold of their hearts, but Marcus did not miss a beat as he answered.

"I want to know how we defeat it, not what it can do, Farseer Thalindra."

In any other situation, she would have taken offense at such a tone and choice of words directed toward her. But this time, she understood. It was clear that the Captain was confronting his own fear, using all his will to conceal it behind a mask of courage and militaristic discipline.

"I was explaining what he can do so that you can formulate a plan that accounts for his strengths. But I will give you exactly what you can exploit, regardless of whatever plan you come up with..."

He nodded, his eyes making it clear that all his attention was on her. In this moment, this human would heed every word she spoke, ensuring that he used whatever information she provided to overcome this challenge.

"While he is powerful, scum like him tend to share a common flaw with any who are influenced by Sai'lanthresh, and that is hubris. They always make a mistake that leads to their downfall—the key is knowing when to exploit it."

"Second, he is not wearing the standard helmet used by these types of Mon-Keigh warriors, meaning he is relying on his senses—likely smell or sound."

Before Ellias could ask his question, Thalindra was quick to continue.

"I know this because, given the density of this fog, even primitive modifications to his vision would not be enough to negate its effects. He also does not wield powers akin to mine, so he is not using his mind to locate us. That leaves us with smell or noise."

"Last but not least, we have the tools to kill him—and, as Darius pointed out, we have numbers on our side. Yes, he is dangerous, and we cannot afford to underestimate him, even with me and Arandur here. But he is not unbeatable."

Marcus paused, his right hand moving to his chin as he processed the information she had given him. Moments passed before his frown shifted into a look of determination—then a simple smile.

"I may have something that could give us the upper hand in dealing with him..."


"Look, Cap, if I didn't say this before, I'll say it now… I hate you."

Ellias gripped his Storm Bolter tightly, leading the party toward the church. Their pace was quick and synchronized, using the cover of the mist to advance. On his back was the cape worn by Thalindra, who was being dragged through the gravel and mud, the fabric far too large for the Corporal's frame.

Marcus let out a single nervous laugh. "Yeah, I understand how you're feeling pretty well." He could not help but feel a bit of self-loathing for suggesting such a plan—especially since he was the one carrying the ammo box containing the folded armor of the Dire Avenger.

Both he and the blond Cadian were the main targets, as they carried the scent of the Xenos on them. Not only that but they were positioned at the front of the formation, leading the way.

"This is bad," muttered Kais through clenched teeth, his heavily accented Gothic making the words sound even grimmer. The Tau remained at the rear of the formation, ensuring their backs were covered—especially given the scope of his weapon, which could spot the enemy if it caught sight of him.

Janessa moved just ahead of the Fire Warrior, her Lasrifle strapped to her back and a laspistol in hand. The entire group pressed forward with purpose, tense with anticipation as they neared their destination. Their weapons remained at the ready, prepared for any sign of movement. The moment of confrontation approached, and every member of the group could only hope that Marcus' reckless plan would work. Otherwise, they had just delivered themselves on a silver platter to their enemy.


When his prey had found a new hideout, Jezza took the opportunity to search for the other contestant, but his efforts came up empty-handed. No scent, no sound—nothing could be detected aside from the usual background noises.

This infuriated him, but it also made him wary. Not even the Farseer had been able to pull off such complete concealment. To be utterly invisible to all five senses was something unheard of, even for an Emperor's Children Legionnaire.

He began to suspect that this mysterious opponent was some kind of Drukhari lie or trick, but something made him reconsider. The way the announcer had introduced him—"Hard to spot"—stood out in his mind. However, whatever this third party was doing went far beyond mere stealth.

His first priority remained the Eldar and her company, with this enigmatic opponent as a secondary concern. But at this rate, that order was beginning to shift. Jezza could feel his pride wounding; never before had someone evaded his claws so completely. If this was the first time, he vowed it would also be the last.

Then, at last, he caught a scent. The group had started moving again. For now, he would have to shift his attention back to stalking his primary prey. His jagged, metallic teeth curled into a Cheshire-like grin.

"Lambs come first, then the other wolf," he muttered.

With that, the Chaos Marine leaped down from the rooftop, rushing forward on foot toward his moving targets.


Now to the end notes, hope you're all having a solid one this month! As always I may remind you guys that BillyFish1409 has released his new chapter, so once you guys finish this one go read his! Promise that you wont be disappointed. Also taking this opportunity to thank this mad lad who has been helping me edit my story. Yet I have another to thank personally who has been fundamental for us to reaching here, as you are all probably used by now, thank Boyo99 for inspiring me, for sticking with me for all this time and for helping me out in this journey!

That being said...now to the replies left on the previous chapter!

StarWanderer's Writing - Hello StarWanderer! It's good to have you here, I appreciate your review, and I must say love the in-depth way you went about this, I'm happy you did so, since discussing my work, which is my passion always makes me happy hehe.

So about Culsan, we will see more about him in the future, so don't worry some of your doubts that it may have risen with him will be answered. However keep in mind that he is not an average Alpha Legionairre, he is a head hunter infiltrator, his main operation mode is not to necessarily kill, but more of staying in the shadows waiting for the moment he can strike in the most effective way possible. Not merely a warrior but more like a viper who waits in the bush for you to put your feet on it, he is that type of guy. Also since the nature of his job is lonely, most of the whole Alpharius guise is dropped in favor of efficiency, since sometimes he will bs his way out of something.

That being said hope to give a good show as Elyria would say, on the next chapter and I'm Happy you are liking it. Until then, TheChristianPrimarch.

merendinoemiliano - Ohohoh thx Merendino! I'm happy to see you here and I hope that both my works are managing to entertain you!

Is good to have you here man, until the next one, hope you have a great week, TheChristianPrimarch.

expert93 - Ohohohoh I'm happy you are intrigued, promise that some aspects of Marcus's past will be explained within this arc, especially towards the transition between the 3th and the 4th arc. And about Culsan motives, they will be explained, in subtle ways until the story picks up more the pace and then it gets more clear, but don't worry I'll leave clues until then...

Until the next one, TheChristianPrimarch is out!