"FIGHT!"
Heavy Hammer roared, his war axe slamming into the ground, sending cracks through the blood-soaked stone.
"FOR THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!"
"FOR THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!"
His heretic mob howled in unison, their mutated flesh glistening with sweat and warp-ichor. Their war cries echoed through rusted hab-units as they charged the Thunderborns.
But Heavy Hammer ignored them.
He knew—
"Only I can kill Grey."
His half-destroyed cybernetic torso should have crippled him.
But an unseen force filled the gaps in his broken flesh.
His movements became sharper, faster—his body surged with unnatural strength.
He felt stronger than ever before.
A thousand battle plans flashed through his mind.
‹... Slide under Grey's guard, cleave his knee, cripple him...
Smash his chest, knock him off balance, then go for the decapitation...›
But ultimately—
There was only one goal for him.
Grey's head.
....
Heavy Hammer lunged, his war axe screaming through the air, aimed straight for Grey's helmet.
But just as the blade neared its mark—
Grey activated his gravity shield.
A split second later—
Heavy Hammer and his war axe were crushed into pulp.
A single red smear was all that remained.
Grey didn't even flinch.
Over the vox, he spoke:
"Why can't we activate the gravity shield a second after teleportation?
Otherwise, I could've just squashed him the moment I arrived."
Qin Mo's voice crackled in response.
"Do you even understand how much interference teleportation causes? Be grateful your armor didn't shut down completely."
"Understood."
Grey turned away from the remains, stepping over them without a second glance—
And joined the others in the slaughter.
....
The remaining cultists—only thirty survivors—
They knew they would die.
But they charged anyway.
"FOR THE CHAMPION!"
The four Thunderborns stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a wall of gold and black.
Their arm-mounted shotcannons and shoulder-mounted plasma cannons locked onto their targets.
Then—
They fired.
Fifty shells per second tore through the horde.
Plasma bolts vaporized flesh and metal alike.
The slums themselves reshaped into a scorched, cratered wasteland.
By the time the barrage ceased—
There was nothing left.
Grey let out a quiet chuckle.
"Perhaps they should have worshipped the Champion of Firepower instead."
Anruida scoffed.
"Hah! No kidding!
For a 'god of war,' the Champion of Blood sure is stingy—didn't even give them decent weapons!"
As they laughed, none of them noticed—
In a collapsed ruin, a trembling man clutched a second idol of the Champion of Blood.
His lips moved in frantic whispers, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
Grey's voice turned cold.
"Standard sweep protocol."
Without hesitation, Anruida scanned the area.
His sensors locked onto the cultist's presence.
His plasma cannon swiveled.
A beam of searing energy erased both the cultist and his idol, reducing them to nothing but ash.
"Mission complete."
....
Meanwhile…
Qin Mo turned away from the carnage in the slums, shifting his focus to the Grand Cathedral of Tyrone Hive.
Through his drone network, he observed Yoan's approach.
The Pariah had teleported outside the structure, his form blending into the gloom of the Lower Hive's smog-choked skyline.
"Find the breach point. Enter undetected."
Yoan's eyes scanned the towering cathedral walls—and he found it.
A cracked section of stone, left by millennia of neglect, glowed in his retinal display.
"Breach point confirmed."
Qin Mo's voice remained steady.
"Good."
Qin Mo activated the pendant he had gifted to Yoan.
Through it, he twisted reality.
The ancient wall liquefied, its structure bending like molten wax.
Yoan stepped through the shifting stone—
And into the shadows of the confessional booth.
Behind him, the wall solidified as if nothing had ever changed.
For a moment, he knelt.
Yoan whispered a silent prayer—
Praising the divine power that had just altered reality before his eyes.
Then, he broke off a fragment of the wall and placed it in his pack.
"For my wife."
Qin Mo's voice cut in.
"Wait. Now is not the time to strike."
....
Through his drones, Qin Mo observed the congregation inside the cathedral.
Deacon-Primaris David stood before hundreds of faithful worshippers, delivering his sermon.
"The God-Emperor is the Master of Humanity!
Deny His light, and you deny salvation!"
The congregation erupted in applause.
Then David raised his arms, his voice twisting into something… unnatural.
"The God-Emperor is not only the Master of Humanity—
He is the Lord of Knowledge and Wisdom! The Keeper of Secrets!"
For a moment—
The congregation fell silent. Even the mind-wiped servitors stuttered.
Something about those words...
Felt wrong.
A title not of the Imperial Creed.
Even the most fanatical zealots hesitated.
Qin Mo grinned, recording the sermon for future use.
"Well, that confirms it. David is definitely a pawn of Tzeentch."
The guard captain flinched, stepping forward immediately.
"Cease your speech, Deacon."
David staggered, suddenly dazed.
"I—I've been feeling unwell… I wasn't thinking clearly…"
"That is no excuse."
The guard captain leaned in close, voice low.
"Talon I is not yet ours. Choose your words carefully."
David nodded weakly—but his unease only worsened.
Even his personal bodyguard tensed, as if sensing an unseen force.
Then—
His Jarlcat suddenly bolted toward him, leaping into his arms, its fur bristling.
The creature trembled violently, eyes wide with sheer terror.
David's blood ran cold.
Something was very, very wrong.
He turned—
And ran.
He barely managed two steps before his legs gave out.
He collapsed onto the stone floor.
His Jarlcat shrieked as it was crushed beneath him.
"M-My Lord of Wisdom…
Save me…"
David clutched his chest, his body convulsing.
His pupils dilated to unnatural proportions.
His Jarlcat let out a final, choked cry—
And fell still.
....
"...Should I strike now?"
Yoan asked hidden in the confessional's shadowed rafters.
Qin Mo smirked.
"No need. Your job is done."
David had died on his own.
Or rather—
David had died because of Yoan's presence.
As a Pariah, Yoan's null-aura severed Tzeentch's thread from David.
His mere presence snuffing the warp-flame in David's soul like a Culexus Assassin's gaze.
"Did I just… kill him?"
Yoan breathed, clutching his pendant.
"Yes. Now return."
With a single button press—
Yoan vanished.
The Imperium's judgment was complete.
....
"Another mission, completed today."
Qin Mo mused.
"I truly am blessed by the Machine Spirits."