The Veydran Legion arrived at the Gates of Devotion
The air smelled of burning hymns.
Lysara Veydran stepped through the ruptured reality tear, her boots sinking into marble that wasn't stone but compressed prayer from the believers of the God of Sacrifice.
Before her stretched the Sanctum of the Willing ,the God of Sacrifice's inner sanctum, a floating cathedral city anchored to the Chaos World's bleeding edge.
Its spires weren't architecture; they were frozen screams given form, their peaks dripping molten gold.
Behind her, the Veydran warhost emerged from the rift ,ten thousand strong, their armor blackened from crossing the void between realms. Those in the Legion were her army raised by her , for her and the family , they fight for her honor and the honor of the Veydran.
"Remember," Lysara said, her voice carrying without raising, "we don't burn this place."
Blue flames danced in her palm.
"We cleanse it.The Dynasty gets a new training place for its descends. FOR BLOOD!!!"
"FOR BLOOD!!!" The soldiers shouted in unison with her.
The first martyrs came screaming from the cathedral's gaping mouth-doorway.
---
The First Wave arrived to welcome the Legion.
They weren't human. Not anymore.
The Choir of the Willing moved as one flesh, a hundred bodies fused at the limbs, their mouths stretched wide in permanent song.
Where they stepped, the marble bloomed with golden veins, their hymn reshaping reality:
"Our sacrifice our choice our sacrifice our choice..." , they sang in hymns of twisted voices and screams.
Lysara met them with open arms.
Soul Pyre: First Ignition." She took action swiftly.
The blue fire leapt from her fingers in a wave, not burning flesh but souls. The choir's song became shrieks as their essences unraveled, the conjoined bodies collapsing into twitching parts.
The flames spread, climbing the cathedral's ribs like ivy, etching Veydran curses into the godstone.
To her left, General Draxus bisected three martyrs with a single greatsword swing.
"They're softer than the ones on the mortal plane!"
Lysara watched a still-singing head roll past her boots. "These aren't warriors." She crushed the skull underfoot. "They're offerings. People that took the easy path."
Above them, the sanctum's sky pulsed another shockwave from her father's battle. A spire collapsed in the distance. She knew that once her father was unleashed nothing could stop him especially when it came to youngest.
---
The High Altar was their next battleground.
They fought through galleries of frozen worshippers ,men, women, children preserved in mid-prayer, their golden tears still trailing down petrified cheeks. This showed what the God of Sacrifice did to his worshipers when he was desperate for power.
Lysara's flames left them untouched; even monsters had limits.
The Altar of Final Devotion stood at the city's heart, a obsidian disc where the God of Sacrifice had carved his first covenant. Standing guard:
The Eternal Penitent.
Seven feet tall. Naked save for the chains digging into his muscle. No eyes just empty sockets weeping liquid devotion. Faith that came from the inhabitants of this realm. Their faith condensed in liquid form to fuel the structures and formations.
The Statue ,a chosen of the God of Sacrifice , sent to guard this realm.
"Ah." His voice was a landslide of broken promises. "The Veydran bitch come to..."
Lysara flicked her wrist.
A lance of blue fire took his left knee.
"Talk less," she advised.
The real fight began.
---
"Dance of the Damned"
The Penitent moved like a living avalanche, his chains whipping with enough force to crater the altar's edge. Where they struck, the marble melted, reshaped by the weight of his sins. His power condensed to its fullest , gor fighting a Veydran needed his all.
Lysara danced between the blows, her flames licking at his flesh , but the wounds healed as fast as she made them, golden ichor stitching muscle back together.
"You cannot burn me," he laughed, catching her ankle with a chain. "I am sacrifice!"
The throw sent her skidding across the altar, her armor scoring molten lines in the stone.
Lysara spat blood. Smiled.
"Let's test that."
"Soul Pyre: Blue Sun Rising." She unleashed it with fervor really trying to put his words to the test.
The explosion of azure flame turned night to day. The Penitent's chains vaporized first, then his skin, then...
...He kept coming, a skeleton wreathed in golden light, his bones singing hymns as he swung.
Lysara barely dodged the fist that would have erased her head.
"Persistent bastard."
---
The Core revelation of their clas was about to happen. Everywhere on the realm the Veydran legion were wreaking havoc, killing anything that moved or worshiped the God of Sacrifice.
A backhand sent Lysara crashing through a prayer-wall. As the dust settled, she saw it...
The Font of Devotion.
Beneath the altar, a pool of liquid gold pulsed like a heart. Every drop held a thousand whispered prayers. Every ripple strengthened the Penitent.
"General!"
Draxus was already moving, his greatsword carving through the last defenders. "We'll hold them! Do it!"
The Penitent lunged.
Lysara met him halfway.
---
The Final ignition of the battle arrived , the deciding factor of the realm.
Her fist plunged into his ribcage.
"Soul Pyre: Last Candle."
The blue fire turned inward , burning through the golden threads connecting him to the font. The Penitent screamed ,not in pain, but betrayal as his eternal sacrifice was rendered meaningless.
His bones blackened.
Crumbled.
Lysara stood over the fading embers, watching the font boil away to nothing.
Above them, the sanctum began to collapse ,its power source severed.
"Fall back!" Draxus roared, dragging a wounded soldier toward the rift.
Lysara lingered just long enough to watch the first spire implode. Next everything related to the god of sacrifice in this realm would be wiped out.
Somewhere beyond the crumbling sky, her father was winning.
---
The return rift spat them onto the Chaos World's bleeding edge. Behind them, the sanctum folded in on itself like a dying star. They left some soldiers to place anchors on the realm so they could be able to find it again and develope it.
Draxus wiped golden blood from his blade. "That'll sting his pride."
Lysara flexed her burned hand. Watched the sky pulse with her father's lightning.
"Not enough."
The flames in her eyes burned brighter.
"Not yet."