"Too slow."
These two short words were like a heavy hammer smashing through the silence of the vox channel.
They caused the proud Grey Knights Justicar Galabad to freeze mid-motion.
The Lord is displeased.
A Grand Inquisitor had used himself as bait to lure the enemy deep, yet they were ten full seconds late due to a minuscule error in the teleportation array.
Yet the Lord before them stood alone with his hands behind his back. No ripples of a psychic shield could be seen around him, yet he remained unscathed within the Slaanesh Daemonette's corruption field.
What a domineering bulwark of will.
"We are guilty!" Galabad slammed a knee to the ground, his multi-ton Terminator armor shattering the floor tiles as stone fragments flew. "Grant us permission to wash away our shame with the blood of the enemy!"
[System Prompt: Detected repentance-class moderate emotional fluctuations from Grey Knight elite unit 'Galabad'.]
[Deception value +20.]
[Current Balance: 20.
Level 1 Exchange List unlocked:
Miniature Psychic Storm (special effect), Wrath of the Emperor (sound and light edition), Word of Truth (cold reading aid), Holy Radiance.]
Cyril's jaw muscles ached as if they would burst, and the roar of adrenaline thundered in his ears.
He glanced toward the Slaanesh Daemonette out of the corner of his eye.
The monster did not move.
Valjes, from Slaanesh's Sixth Circle, the Circle of Vanity. Its androgynous, enchanting face sat above purple chitinous plates that shimmered with a dizzying, oily luster.
It had originally intended to test the planet's defenses by corrupting the Governor's daughter through the Order of the Perfect Circle. However, it had not expected the host's vanity to be so fanatical.
That reckless desire to be noticed became a perfect beacon for its descent, drawing it in and effectively "inviting" it through that desire.
Who would have thought that the moment it showed its head, it would be locked onto by a Terminator squad?
And the tiny human before it was completely empty inside. Logically, even the most useless mortal should possess at least a trace of psychic resonance.
Yet this extreme emptiness appeared to the daemon as an unfathomable disguise, like staring into the abyss only for the abyss to return silence.
It tried to understand and control the current situation while simultaneously straining to see through its opponent's reality.
The crisp sound of the Grey Knights behind Galabad chambering rounds in their bolters rang out again.
"Stand down."
Cyril spoke again.
His voice was dry and steady, devoid of any mortal air.
Galabad lowered his weapon slightly and waved a hand back, forcefully stopping his squad from pulling their triggers.
Was the Inquisitor going to handle this personally?
"What an... interesting soul."
There was no scream as expected.
Valjes, the towering Slaanesh Daemonette, actually let out a silver-bell-like laugh.
Its purple compound eyes stared fixedly at Cyril.
"I can't smell the sour stench of faith on you, little mouse. You're... empty inside." Valjes licked its lips, its form vanishing. "You are an exceptionally rare and delicious lie!"
A foul, lustful wind rushed toward him.
There was no time to react at all.
Cyril's vision blurred, and Valjes's lethal pink bone whip was already high above his head.
Crap, I overplayed it!
Galabad instinctively charged to intercept, but his speed could not keep up with a high-ranking daemon of Slaanesh.
Is it over? Am I going to be torn apart?
No.
System! Go all in! Exchange for [Wrath of the Emperor (Sound and Light Edition)]! Max out the lumens! Burn its damn eyes blind!
Cyril's pupils constricted sharply, but he did not close his eyes.
Just before the touch of death could kiss his brow, a con artist's instinct took over his body. Since it was a dead end, he might as well put on the biggest show possible.
He took a large stride forward, actively meeting the lethal whip, and held the rosette high in his hand.
"In the name of the Emperor! Crawl back to your cesspool!"
The perfect moment for showboating. The pose had to be cool. Forty-five-degree upward angle.
Cyril prayed frantically in his mind, God-Emperor above, if I survive this, I swear I'll never sell industrial alcohol as holy water to your followers again!
Boom!
To the Daemonette's senses, the tiny human before it suddenly vanished.
That was not light. It was materialized fury. A golden sun that had burned for ten thousand years in this dark universe exploded without warning across its retina.
That was the eternal nightmare of Warp entities, the wrath of the strongest corpse-bound sovereign seated upon the Golden Throne.
[Special Effect: Wrath of the Emperor (Visual Edition) activated.
Inflicts 1.5 seconds of special mental hallucinations on Chaos entities.]
"Aaaargh! The Unspeakable One! Don't look at me! Take that light away!"
Valjes clutched its eyes and let out a wretched scream. Its bone whip, which was supposed to sever Cyril's head, stopped abruptly in midair and even began to spontaneously combust from extreme terror.
In Valjes's eyes, the tiny human suddenly occupied its entire field of vision, transforming into an Emperor burning with golden flames.
In the eyes of the Grey Knight Justicar, this scene was a miracle. The Lord Inquisitor simply raised his emblem and let out a loyal roar, and the overbearing daemon's attack slammed into an invisible Absolute Wall of Sighs, repelled by that holy will and bursting into flames.
There was not even a ripple of psychic activity.
"This... this is..." Galabad's eyes beneath his helmet were bloodshot. "It's not a Warp disruption... it's reality anchoring. The Lord's words directly modified the surrounding physical laws, rejecting the daemon's existence!"
[System Prompt: Detected minor emotional fluctuations of 'Faith Collapse' level from Grey Knight Justicar Galabad and his squad members.]
[Deception value +50.]
[Deception value +5+5+5+5.]
Faaaa! Faaaw!!! Praise the sun. Praise the God-Emperor!
Cyril bit the tip of his tongue hard, using the pain to force down the trembling in his legs.
Acting cool was too intense. It was easy to have a heart attack.
Must finish this quickly. Although he was a weakling in combat, he was at least a veteran Warhammer lore expert. Exalted daemons of Slaanesh enjoyed pain. Physical damage would only make them climax.
Only 1.5 seconds.
Cyril felt blood gush from his nose, the burden of the system's overload on his brain. But he had to finish this performance.
To kill it, he had to sever the anchor.
Cyril's gaze turned cold as he locked onto Valjes's violently twitching left eye.
A purple crystal mirror was embedded there, emitting a sinister faint light.
Cyril called out the Justicar's name like he was calling a dog.
"Gala."
"Present!"
"I have blinded its senses. The left eye, that purple crystal mirror." Cyril extended a finger, pointing at the location with a lazy, disgusted air, as if looking at it for another second would soil his eyes. "Pierce it."