Chapter 40: Battle

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The Hedonist had always believed that the Thirsting Lady would be indulgent toward him, ever since he had awakened within a mechanical womb ravaged by a daemon of excess.

Thus, he released his desires without restraint, worrying only that he might become so lost in the experience of pleasure that he would forget to offer the Thirsting Lady his finest emotions.

Just as he was doing now.

The immense central thoroughfare seemed somewhat spacious. Clad in finely wrought armor, the Hedonist was lashing a servitor with a neural whip.

Crack!

The whip struck flesh. Its secreted poisons and neural hooks licked at the body, and the immense pain should have produced a beautiful echo.

It should have.

“Boring. Boring!”

The Hedonist kicked over a servitor that had intended to continue carrying its cargo. He had to admit that the cruelty with which monkeys tormented their own kind had raised his opinion of them, if only slightly.

Then he glanced at the Scourge beside him. With a slight turn of his wrist, the neural whip wrapped itself without hesitation around her slender calf.

These genetically modified Dark Eldar were messengers used to carry information through the labyrinthine cities of Commorragh. They were also lethal, weightless assassins.

Those long, exposed legs, specially evolved for high-speed movement, seemed extraordinarily alluring to the Hedonist.

“Ah!”

The Scourge’s voice, melodious as a skylark’s, released an enticing scream.

That was more like it.

A satisfied smile spread across the Hedonist’s face.

Yet before he could tighten the whip, an intangible terror descended upon him, transforming his debauched expression into one of sheer horror in an instant.

It was a fear carved into the deepest recesses of every Eldar heart. Wherever that dread arrived, the claws of Slaanesh would soon follow.

He released the whip at once. His broad executioner’s blade flew into his hand, while a neural inhibitor was injected into his veins, suppressing his desire to its lowest point.

But after waiting for more than ten seconds, the Hedonist still saw no sign of the slender, deadly figure he had expected from any corner.

“Has the Thirsting Lady’s handmaiden not come?”

The wounds left by the Hunter’s terror would not heal quickly, and he dearly hoped that his guess was correct.

One might wonder how the Hedonist dared to indulge himself so extravagantly aboard another’s vessel. But if he died, he died. It was said that the cabal’s gains from this operation would be enough to rent Commorragh’s largest arena for a performance, and as a senior officer, he could afford the small price of resurrection.

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But being slain by a daemon of Slaanesh was an entirely different matter.

To be invited after death into the Thirsting Lady’s Palace of Six Rings in the highest reaches of the Warp was an ending no Eldar could accept. It was a fate so dreadful that merely imagining it was enough to make the soul tremble.

“Perhaps this is an invitation from the Thirsting Lady? An invitation to join us in savoring a feast?”

Opening her senses to their fullest extent, the Scourge accompanying the Hedonist composed herself. After confirming that nothing unusual had occurred beyond the weakening of the boundary between this place and the Warp, she cautiously pushed the neural whip away with her claws.

“Stop joking.”

The Hedonist narrowed his eyes. He pulled the neural whip tighter around the Scourge’s calf, easing his mind somewhat and allowing his badly weakened soul to relax. He was just about to tell his companion to stop teasing him when his open mouth abruptly froze once more.

During that brief moment of distraction, the squad that should have remained in contact with him had already gone silent.

He instinctively turned his gaze toward the darkened passageway. Every nerve in his body was telling him that something was approaching.

The vessel’s assault upon the shadowy lair of the Dark Eldar had begun once more.

And this time, it would not be a simple probing attack!

“Horus!”

It was a roar.

A roar filled with killing intent, loud enough to shatter the eardrums. Instinctively, every muscle in his body drew taut, yet his chest could not expand. It was as if an invisible hand had closed around his throat, making even breathing difficult.

This… this feeling!

The force of that presence surpassed every monster within his understanding. At the very least, none of the creatures that had died by his hand in the arena had possessed such murderous intent.

When the golden power spear swept toward him, only one thought remained in the Hedonist’s mind.

I am going to die!

Bang!

A sharp detonation reverberated through the passage. The Hedonist’s body had only just begun to react when the long haft struck him in midair and smashed him into fragments.

Slash!

The razor-sharp spearhead severed both wings. Just as the young Scourge thought she had escaped disaster, a massive hand seized her head and slammed it against the wall, bursting her skull.

Suppressing the urge to drink deeply of blood, Karna cast aside the headless corpse and roared once more.

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“Sanguinius, witness me! Set me aflame!”

Almost every Dark Eldar heard that deafening voice at the same moment.

It was a shrill roar carrying the darkest emotions of a holy angel in his final moments—the fury of one who, in despair, sought to repay the world for everything he had endured.

Behind him, the war hounds dragging the mangled remains of a serpent-man were likewise infected by that rage, a wrath hot enough to set the world ablaze.

These abominations that had allied themselves with the Dark Eldar were utterly repulsive.

The war hounds raised their hands and crushed an Ur-ghul’s body, then charged resolutely toward the crimson path.

The angel dragged the hounds behind him as he plunged headlong into the cage, tearing it apart.

From Romulus’s vantage point, the three warriors advancing straight ahead seemed to draw the Dark Eldar lurking in every shadow toward the heart of the battle in a near-siphoning motion.

At the same time, they exposed their backs completely to the executioners hidden in the darkness.

Slash!

A beam of light struck. The nerves long tempered by Commorragh’s brutal forges controlled the body with terrifying speed, shifting it just enough for the beam to leave only a shallow scorch across the armor.

The Nightmare rushing toward the site of the attack evaded the laser fire with an almost absurd display of agility.

These warrior sects of the Dark Eldar, devotees of Khaine, were the cabal’s most loyal mercenaries and the deadliest killing machines in single combat.

The scourge device mounted upon their heads constantly emitted psychic shockwaves, leaving their opponents dizzy and disoriented and granting them a decisive advantage in battle.

But that was all.

The opening volley had won the squad the initiative. When the Nightmare cast his cold gaze upon the warrior wearing a raven-faced helm, a rapidly spinning chain-axe blade came hurtling toward him.

Clang!

His exquisite skill allowed him to parry the blow. With only a slight exertion of force, he reversed the pressure and overpowered the Shark. He was just about to sever the Shark’s head when the attack that followed cut off the Nightmare’s right arm.

He swiftly withdrew, attempting to create room to maneuver, but another axe blade easily caught up with the back of his head. Its roaring teeth tore through his body, cleaving him in two from crown to waist.

The interlocking teeth seized the flesh. The instant the Sharks withdrew their weapons, they ripped the Nightmare’s corpse apart, flinging blood and severed limbs in every direction.

Only then did the still-functioning scourge device finally dispel the Sharks’ psychic shadow.