On the scorched earth of Heralius Hive City's ruins, two opposing forces collided with thunderous impact.
One was silent, relentless, carrying the cold breath of Imperial order: gray in hue. The Death Korps of Krieg and newly reinforced scattered Imperial Guard forces, under the command of I Am Not God, dug into the ruined defensive lines like bedrock.
The other was loud, chaotic, radiating waves of blood and blasphemous heat: crimson in color. Khorne daemons, traitorous Guard, and more Chaos cultists drawn by the news clustered around their enraged vanguard, the crimson-armored Berserker Scorchwind. They were intent on dragging this area (where Imperial sparks had just been lit) back into the abyss of destruction.
Scorchwind's gaze cut through the clashing battle lines, locking onto the Imperial player's figure: I Am Not God.
"Come face me!" Scorchwind roared.
His chain-axe (gorged on blood and wreathed in crimson vapor) let out a ravenous howl. He ignored the surrounding rank-and-file soldiers. A terrifying aura erupted around him as he charged forward like an out-of-control heavy tank. He brutally shoved aside both friendly and enemy troops in his path, making a beeline straight for I Am Not God's position at the core.
I Am Not God also sensed this hostile, oppressive onslaught.
Having just commanded his soldiers to secure a firing position, his severed arm was wrapped in the warm blessing of the "Living Saint." The pain had faded to bearable levels, though the wound remained unhealed.
The chainsword he'd inherited from the Commissar (battle-worn yet now with its teeth seemingly flowing with the faintest golden radiance) appeared to sense the approaching powerful enemy. It emitted a low hum.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he stepped forward, temporarily handing command of the surrounding soldiers to a Krieg sergeant.
Two forces representing opposing extremes of will met head-on in the center of the battlefield.
"Die!" Scorchwind wasted no words.
His crimson chain-axe, accompanied by air-tearing shrieks, came crashing down with mountain-splitting force. This strike contained the Berserker's brute strength and Khorne's blessing of destructive power: enough to tear through heavy armor like paper.
I Am Not God's eyes remained calm. Gripping the chainsword tightly in his remaining arm, he chose not to block that heavy descending chop head-on. Instead, his footwork shifted. His body turned slightly, avoiding the axe blade's sharpest edge by a hair's breadth.
At the same time, his chainsword swept upward diagonally from below, striking precisely at the connection between axe handle and blade.
CLANG!
The piercing clash of metal and grinding chainsaw teeth exploded. Sparks burst between them.
Scorchwind felt his arm shudder. The axe's force was somehow cleverly deflected and redirected to one side, while a shock (not of pure strength, but of unusual toughness and solidity) came from his opponent's blade.
What made his pupils contract even more was that his opponent's seemingly broken mortal body only swayed slightly in the collision, rather than being sent flying or having his grip shattered as expected.
The "Living Saint's" blessing wasn't merely "bane" in offense. It was subtly strengthening I Am Not God's body, enabling it to bear the burden of that divine will. It allowed a mortal frame to barely withstand superhuman impacts.
I Am Not God likewise felt his opponent's savage power, but his mind remained focused. The recent experience of slaying the Helbrute had given him a new, almost instinctive mastery over combat, his weapon, and his current state.
He wasn't intimidated by Scorchwind's momentum. His eyes held only this formidable enemy that had to be defeated.
After one exchange, neither paused for even a moment. They immediately engaged in close combat.
Scorchwind's offense was like a violent storm. His swinging chain-axe whipped up a crimson tempest of death. His strength, speed, and that overwhelming savage momentum all demonstrated his terrifying prowess as a top-tier player and Khorne's chosen. His fighting style was bold and sweeping, filled with the crushing force of power overwhelming technique.
I Am Not God, however, was like a reef in raging currents. His movements weren't large. They even appeared somewhat stiff due to his missing arm. But every step, every parry, every counterattack was precise, economical, and efficient to the extreme.
He had no fancy combinations. Only the most basic chops, slashes, blocks, and thrusts. Yet he always appeared at the most critical moment, in the most critical position, using the roaring teeth of his chainsword to either neutralize, disrupt, or threaten Scorchwind's attacks.
The blood-stained chainsword in his hand seemed to have gained life, completely synchronized with his will.
This was a clash of vastly different styles. Savage Khorne power versus relentless Emperor's will. A veteran expert's skilled combat technique versus a novice's pure conviction.
Around them, soldiers from both sides were locked in mutual slaughter.
Krieg soldiers silently loaded, fired, charged, and fell. Daemons roared as they tore and devoured. Traitorous Guards shot each other with bloodshot eyes, bayonets clashing. Lasers and bullets crisscrossed. Explosions erupted constantly. Fragments of flesh and metal continuously scattered.
This was a miniature meat grinder, with the death struggle of two "hero units" at its center.
The battle reached white-hot intensity. Scorchwind, unable to break through for so long, grew increasingly agitated. Spotting an opening, he unleashed a devastating horizontal sweep, forcing I Am Not God back half a step. Then he prepared to follow up with a lethal thrust.
Pop!
A sound (not loud, yet exceptionally clear) rang out from a shot.
A precise red beam from a Lucius-pattern lasgun cut through the chaotic battlefield. It struck dead center on Scorchwind's snarling helmet faceplate, neither too far left nor right. Though it failed to penetrate the enchanted armor, the impact force and searing heat caused his movements to stutter for the briefest instant.
Scorchwind glanced angrily to the side.
Not far away, a Krieg soldier lay in a pool of blood, his chest pierced by a traitorous veteran's bayonet. Yet his lasgun was still raised in his hands, smoke rising from the barrel.
The traitorous veteran was grinning viciously as he twisted the bayonet, trying to widen the wound.
However, the dying Krieg soldier (his eyes hidden behind his gas mask) seemed to glance at Scorchwind, or perhaps only toward I Am Not God's direction. He uttered no scream. He only used his last strength to release his grip on the gun and fumbled to pull an object from his belt.
A melta grenade.
The pin was pulled.
The next second, a brilliant white fireball capable of melting tank armor suddenly expanded outward with the Krieg soldier at its center. It instantly consumed him, the terror-stricken retreating traitorous veteran, and everything within several meters (whether flesh or metal), devouring and burning all completely.
No wails. Only silent, total annihilation.
In his final moment, the Krieg soldier chose mutual destruction with the enemy, fulfilling his mission of attrition and sacrifice in the most extreme manner.
This brief yet shocking scene caused even the battle-hardened Scorchwind a momentary lapse.
Not fear, but a kind of indescribable... impact. This silent, cold behavioral pattern (binding one's existential value entirely to the destruction of enemies) was utterly different from the passionate, glory-filled individual combat he pursued.
In this fleeting yet fatal opening...
I Am Not God moved.
He didn't miss this transient opportunity. Accumulated power and will exploded completely in this instant. He pushed off with his feet. His remaining right arm swung the chainsword in a fierce golden-red arc. The blade's faint golden glow seemed to suddenly brighten for a moment.
"HAAA!"
The roaring chainsword viciously slashed into the exposed joint of Scorchwind's chest armor, revealed by his sideways glance.
The holy bane effect manifested fully at this moment. The enchanted power armor capable of withstanding heavy bolter rounds parted beneath the chainsword's teeth like butter cut by a hot knife. It emitted a piercing tearing sound. The teeth spun madly, penetrating flesh, destroying internal structures.
"Grr...aah!" Scorchwind managed only a muffled grunt.
Savage power and intense pain instantly swept through his entire body. He tried to counterattack, but the grievous wound to his torso completely deformed his movements.
I Am Not God's eyes were ice-cold, showing no mercy. His wrist suddenly pressed down, then pulled.
Schhhrrrrip!
The crimson Berserker was nearly cleaved diagonally in two by this strike. His upper body, wearing an expression of shock and unwillingness, separated from his lower half and crashed heavily onto the scorched ground. Blood and entrails spilled out.
The system immediately registered him as dead, his form dissolving into a dark red dispersing light.
I Am Not God breathed slightly heavily, withdrawing his chainsword as the golden light gradually faded. He glanced at the shallow crater left by the Krieg soldier's self-detonation, silently offering a brief salute. Then he turned his gaze once more toward the Chaos battle line ahead.
* * *
On the blasphemous resurrection altar, red light surged as Scorchwind's form reconstituted.
The weakness from resurrection quickly faded, but his chest seemed to retain phantom pain from being torn by that golden-gleaming chainsword. Frustration and fury intertwined, but more than that was a reassessment of that opponent and a trace of wariness.
"That guy... something's off," he muttered to himself, checking his status.
Equipment intact.
However, when he opened his personal status screen, a debuff icon he'd never seen before (emanating a faint golden glow) appeared prominently in the list.
[Status: Holy Judgment]
[Stacks: 1]
[Description: Holy purifying power has branded itself upon your warp essence like a festering curse. This force originating from high-tier 'Purification' attributes is difficult to dispel and will continuously burn away your Chaos blessings. If allowed to accumulate, the consequences will be beyond your control.]
[Current Effect: Mild discomfort, Chaos energy activity slightly suppressed.]
[Warning: When [Holy Judgment] stacks accumulate to 13, your warp essence will be temporarily 'overloaded' or 'suppressed,' resulting in forced expulsion from this battle until this status is cleared over time or through special means.]
[Special Note: This effect only applies to Chaos faction player units and is triggered under specific conditions.]
"Holy Judgment? Forced expulsion from battle?" Scorchwind's crimson eyes narrowed, staring at the golden text that made him extremely uncomfortable.
"Heh..." Far from fear, he grinned instead, revealing a smile of excitement, his fighting spirit burning even more intensely: the hunger of encountering a true opponent.
"Interesting... very interesting."