The Skulltaker showed no reaction to having his name called. The daemon clearly did not care that his identity had been exposed, which instead left Ignis momentarily unsettled.
"What, did you really think 'U'zuhl' was my true name?" Khorne's foremost executioner burst into laughter. "Foolish and shallow human. Do you truly believe a daemon's true name could be spoken in such crude mortal language? If you wish to know my real name, go ask the master who created me. I'll be sending you to meet him shortly."
The Salamander's expression darkened slightly. The daemon had cut straight through his line of thought. Then again, it made sense—U'zuhl was merely the name humans used. A daemon's true name was usually an incomprehensible string of sounds, often impossible for a human mouth to pronounce. It was said that during one banishment, simply reciting a daemon's true name had taken a full ten minutes, and several psykers had died in the process.
"Stupid and weak. I truly don't understand what makes a thing like you worthy of the Blood God sending me here," U'zuhl shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with his opponent.
The one piece of good news was this—he really was U'zuhl. Khorne's chief Bloodletter, the Blood God's favored executioner, an exceptionally powerful daemon. That at least meant once he fully unleashed his strength, his presence in a place with such weak Warp resonance would not last long.
I just need to endure…
"Your friends are getting restless." U'zuhl's gaze swept across the others. Billy Kid had already raised his guns and was aiming at him. "No matter. We can resolve this somewhere quieter."
The daemon extended a finger, pointing straight at the Salamander. "Just you and me."
Flames suddenly erupted all around them. A sigil of Khorne blazed across the ground, and walls of fire rose up, cutting Ignis off from his companions.
"Now, we can truly settle this—one on one, mortal."
With manic laughter, the daemon charged. Blood God fire roared along the blade of the Slayer Sword. Ignis immediately raised his psychic shield, yet in that brief instant he still took three strikes in succession, the golden barrier shuddering violently.
U'zuhl's swordsmanship was superb, his speed terrifying. The Slayer Sword was a massive two-handed weapon—heavy even for a powerful daemon—yet in his grasp it seemed weightless. He struck up and down, thrusting left and right with ruthless precision, the blade moving as if it were an extension of his own limbs.
Ignis realized that against the sword-guard veterans he had trained with, he could still counterattack. Against this daemon, however, retaliation was impossible—complete defense alone was already a luxury. Compared to U'zuhl, those veterans moved like turtles. When this daemon swung his blade, the assault was airtight, relentless, without the slightest opening.
The Salamander barely blocked a downward strike, the sheer force numbing his arms. The next instant, another blow crashed down from above, shaking the psychic shield and sending feedback rippling through his mind. Almost simultaneously, a thrust struck his abdomen. If not for the strength of the shield, in the blink of an eye he would have taken three hits and been riddled with holes.
The daemon circled him with obvious enjoyment, carefully maintaining distance. Each strike landed where it should, while the countering iron fists failed to reach him. Slash after slash, every blow left fresh scars upon the psychic shield. It was not trying to kill him quickly—it was toying with him, prodding him like a cat tormenting prey.
Ignis knew U'zuhl was an aberration even among Khorne's daemons. He delighted in torment. He preferred crippling his prey first, destroying their limbs, then grasping their heads, chanting the sacrificial litany, igniting the skull until only a polished bone remained.
The Salamander had no intention of becoming another skull on that cloak.
Ignis focused, reinforcing his psychic shield. Within this dueling ground, he noticed his mental recovery was unnaturally fast. The giant stamped the ground, cracks splitting open as molten lava seeped from below.
He charged the towering daemon, his power gauntlets crackling with energy. The sword slammed down—and its trajectory split into three, all aimed at his neck. The Space Marine halted his charge abruptly. He refused to gamble on whether his shield could withstand that. He braked hard and retreated.
That step back was exactly what U'zuhl had anticipated. The triple strike had been a feint, meant only to force retreat. The blade snapped back and thrust forward, straight toward the Salamander's left shoulder.
The daemonic fire on the blade flared violently. Anti-psyker power surged along the Slayer Sword.
SCREEEECH—
Warp flame and golden psychic energy collided, grinding against one another. The powers of two great gods clashed, locked in a momentary stalemate. Ignis instantly recognized the opportunity—just as U'zuhl realized he had exposed an opening.
The daemon tried to pull the sword free, but the violent psychic struggle bound the weapon in place. For a brief moment, the Slayer Sword would not move.
The Salamander's power gauntlet snapped shut around the blade. Five fingers clamped tight, locking it completely and preventing any dragging motion. At the same time, his right fist drove forward in a brutal arc, smashing toward U'zuhl's grotesque face.
Golden psychic fire engulfed the massive fist as the destructive might of the Master of Mankind was unleashed. Yet the daemon did not dodge. With unsettling confidence, it took the blow head-on.
At the instant the punch landed, the skull-studded cloak materialized upon its shoulders. A strange power radiated outward. The golden flames on Ignis's fist dimmed and thinned, and even the disintegration field began to fail.
The strike landed solidly—but the damage was limited. That cloak, inlaid with the skulls of countless warriors, possessed a terrible potency, shielding its master from psychic assault.
U'zuhl tore the Slayer Sword free. Only now did he reveal his full, unrestrained form. Daemonic fire surged along the blade. Cold, deathly winds howled beneath the skull cloak. The daemon laughed with absolute confidence—compared to him, the Salamander's strength was pitiful.
When the next assault began, Ignis felt as though he stood within the wall of a typhoon. Blades crashed down like torrential rain upon the psychic shield. Warp flame swallowed his vision. All he could hear was the thin scream of steel cutting air. He could do nothing but pour his mental strength into reinforcing the shield, desperately keeping it from shattering. He was like a fragile bird, hiding within an eggshell moments from breaking, resisting the dive of a hawk.
U'zuhl laughed loudly, roaring as he struck. Ignis attempted several counterattacks, landing a few blows, but they dealt no real damage. It felt as though the daemon allowed them to land purely for amusement.
Urgency crept into Ignis's mind. He needed to break this deadlock—now. He launched several reckless assaults, charging directly into the blade, trying to seize control again. But a daemon that had already learned once would not fall for the same trick a third time.
The descending strike snapped back mid-swing. Instead, the sword's hilt came around from another angle, smashing toward his head. Ignis tried to sidestep—but the daemon had already anticipated it.
The weighted pommel slammed into his helmet. The psychic shield shattered. A devastating impact followed.
The Salamander felt his consciousness slipping, his vision darkening. Warning icons flooded his HUD—helmet integrity compromised. But that was not the worst of it. His stance had broken. He was falling.
Ignis threw out a hand to brace against the ground—just as, from the corner of his eye, he saw the daemon's blade cutting toward both of his hands.
Ignis hurriedly deployed his shield, but a barrier raised in such an emergency was insufficient to fully block the damage. The blade carved a deep gash across the vambrace of his left power gauntlet, and the tremendous impact still sent the Salamander flying, tumbling across the ground.
The Salamander rolled twice and forced himself upright. The auto-systems of his power armor reported immediately—his left power gauntlet was offline.
"Fast reactions. No matter, we still have time," U'zuhl rested the sword on his shoulder, utterly unconcerned. "You cannot defeat me, Space Marine. You are too weak."
"Is that so?" Ignis gasped for breath, resetting his fighting stance. "Then I apologize for failing to entertain you. If you can, cut me down."
Ignis's gaze swept across the ground. The battlefield had transformed into something profoundly unnatural. The earth was dark red and fissured, magma flowing through the cracks like blood. The walls of flame had vanished, replaced by distant, unreachable fortresses. From all sides came the sounds of battle—victors cheering, the defeated wailing in agony.
This was a wasteland, no longer the scenery of Hollow Zero. By Ignis's limited understanding, he had been dragged into Khorne's sanctum.
Warp energy surged overwhelmingly through the air, and U'zuhl's form grew ever larger and more monstrous.
But the power of the Warp was not the exclusive domain of daemons. A Space Marine could draw upon it as well. Ignis felt his previously depleted mental strength surge violently, golden light threatening to burst forth from within him. If Khorne could empower his chief executioner here, then The Emperor could likewise bestow His blessing upon His warrior once more.
The Salamander felt his wounds and fatigue vanish in an instant, replaced by a vast, roaring sense of power.
Golden and crimson silhouettes collided. Blade and fist met in violent impact. In a single second, they exchanged dozens of blows, weapons crashing together with ringing force. The daemon took two heavy punches to the face, its features warped, one pauldron shattered, leaving it momentarily battered. Ignis, however, looked far worse—half his helmet had been sheared away, exposing one side of his face. Two fresh gashes split the left power gauntlet, sparks bursting from within, and a hole had been punched through his chest, blood pouring freely.
The searing pain made the Salamander's body tremble uncontrollably—this was the gravest wound he had ever suffered. Ignis hastily used psychic power to seal and stabilize the injury, but the blood already lost could not be restored.
"You are dying. Any last words?" the daemon twisted its dislocated jaw back into place.
"The outcome… is not decided yet," the Salamander said, his voice shaking.
"Very well, human. I will sever your limbs, then burn your skull," the daemon replied, launching into a charge.
The Emperor's warrior showed no fear. He spat once and charged to meet him.
The iron fist smashed into the daemon's face. The blade pierced through the power armor. Blood streamed from the wounds, yet never reached the ground.
The Slayer Sword punched straight through the Space Marine's abdominal armor. Even the additional plating of the Mark X Gravis Power Armor could not withstand this legendary daemonic weapon. Blood evaporated upon the burning blade.
Warp fire ignited the Salamander's organs. Agonizing pain flooded his nerves, and the giant could not suppress a tortured roar.
"It's over, mortal!" U'zuhl snarled, trying to wrench the blade free.
"The real fight begins now."
The blade jammed—it would not come out.
U'zuhl looked down, realizing the Space Marine's left hand had locked onto the blade with an unyielding grip. When he looked up, a fist wreathed in blazing golden psychic fire was already descending.
BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!
With only one arm still functioning, the Salamander's heavy punches slammed repeatedly into the daemon's face. The divine might of The Emperor was delivered through iron knuckles, smashing into U'zuhl again and again.
Pure annihilation. Pure will to battle. Ignis knew his speed could never match the daemon's—so he used his own body as a living shackle, locking the monster in place.
Fear? Death? Of course he feared them. But he knew with absolute clarity that if this creature were allowed to continue its rampage in New Eridu, the entire world would be drowned beneath Khorne's legions. There was only one path left to him—victory, no matter the cost.
He struck almost on instinct. U'zuhl roared curses, yet his movements did not slow. Ignis dragged the blade deeper into his own body with his left hand while his right never ceased striking. Every ounce of strength he possessed converged here. Every fragment of The Emperor's grace converged here.
Awareness was fading. Sound was slipping away. But the will to strike would not stop.
Daemon—do not even think of touching this world. I will destroy you, even if it costs me everything.
Golden fire engulfed U'zuhl's body. The daemon screamed as pure annihilating force erased its form—its very essence beginning to unravel and vanish.
Ignis heard the daemon's wail. He had done it.
Before consciousness finally slipped away, he heard a single peal of triumphant laughter—raw, primal, filled with fury and courage.
===BREAK===
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