The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Talos!"

The Daemon Prince roared in fury, slamming his mace into the ground, causing the entire floor to tremble.

"You contemptible traitor! Don't get cocky! I will spread the word about you, and about Soryan harboring you, you damned traitor! Let's see what becomes of this so-called Imperial hero!"

Talos chuckled softly.

"I must say, your master isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, just like you. And you were once a member of the Eighth Legion. Do you really think reporting crimes to the authorities solves anything in the Imperium? Should I clear a path for you to file a report with the Department of Justice? Or perhaps you'd like to hand out flyers? I'll give you a printer and 200 tons of paper. Would that be enough?"

"You goddamn dog-fucking traitor—"

Just as Vashtorr Gore, driven to the brink by Talos, was about to explode, an eerie laughter echoed through the derelict ship's corridors. Then, Talos and the warriors of the Eleventh Company discovered that the ship's structure around them was changing on its own, like a constantly shifting Rubik's Cube. Yet, they felt no tremors, only the appearance of numerous entrances and exits, and a flood of daemons and daemon engines emerging from the darkness.

Vashtorr Gore, bound within the daemon engine, also began to laugh.

"Enraging my master will bring you no benefit, Talos. You will pay the price for your words and actions—"

Suddenly, he cut himself off, realizing that something was amiss with the former 'Apothecary Apprentice'.

Without him noticing, a shadow, an aura, had enveloped Talos. From his perspective, a terrible power was gathering. It even filled Vashtorr Gore with a chilling dread, like—

The first time he laid eyes on their damned, mad primarch, a bone-chilling memory he couldn't forget even after becoming a daemon.

Talos slowly raised his chainsword glaive.

"What's wrong? Too afraid to touch Soryan, so you think we're easy targets? Vashtorr Gore, you waste. If you want to reclaim half your soul, then muster the courage to come and fight."

"Kill!!"

The daemon engine immediately charged towards Talos, followed by a massive onslaught of other Chaos forces.

The Night Lords showed no fear, unleashing a barrage of heavy weaponry. The Contekar Terminators formed an impenetrable line of defense, using twin-linked meltaguns and chainfists to obliterate any enemy that approached. Tech-Marine Alvarez commanded a squadron of Ironclad Servitors and a battle-automata detachment, using plasma cannons and arc cannons to target larger enemies, such as Maulerfiends.

Meanwhile, Talos single-handedly confronted the charging Daemon Prince, the massive mace merely tearing up the ground as he moved with agility.

"I will deliver your soul to my master as a plaything!"

The daemon snarled, venom dripping from the cracks in its joints. It raised the autocannon on its left arm, but Talos darted beneath its arm with lightning speed.

As the chainsword glaive swept across the daemon engine's joints, the teeth whirred furiously. Though it didn't sever the daemon's metal framework, it did create gashes that vented steam. The silver, worm-like creatures writhing within the daemon engine's skeleton surged out, rapidly repairing the breaches.

Wounded, the massive amplification device on the daemon engine's chest emitted a deafening shriek, its intensity warping the surrounding floor. Those nearest, both Eleventh Company warriors and Chaos Space Marines, collapsed to the ground. Even the daemon engine trembled in agony.

However, Talos seemed completely immune to the daemon's howl. He continued to hack at the wounded daemon engine, using the chainsword glaive to repeatedly tear away its armor and the silver worms beneath, driving the daemon engine back step by step.

Beside him, Kasati provided cover with his bolt pistol and power sword, while the warriors of the Eleventh Company steadily advanced.

Vashtorr Gore, being beaten without a chance to retaliate, suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He used his mace to gather the corpses and wreckage lying on the ground, hurling them like garbage at his opponent. Talos skillfully dodged every piece of flying debris, but it did halt his pursuit of the enemy.

"Die!!"

Vashtorr Gore unleashed a final roar filled with hatred and contempt, the rotary autocannon on his arm began to blaze, and dark energy surrounded him, turning his bullets into hellfire.

He was confident that he could destroy even a Knight titan.

But Talos had already begun to move the moment it shifted its cannon's muzzle. He sped to the daemon engine's right side, and then Vashtorr Gore felt a cold gaze fixed upon his soul. As he turned, Talos, from dozens of meters away, swung down the chainsword glaive.

The next moment, a clean, diagonal cut appeared on his left arm's weapon, followed by a thunderous explosion.

Vashtorr Gore didn't even know what had happened, what had damaged him. Kasati, nearby, gasped in astonishment.

But soon, the Daemon Prince felt that powerful force staring at him and, without hesitation, turned to flee.

Before it could take more than a few steps, its legs, like the autocannon before, were severed at the root by an invisible blade, and its massive body crashed heavily to the ground.

"Talos! No! You are not! Who are you! Talos could never possess such power. It shouldn't exist in reality."

Lying on the ground, the daemon engine tried to prop itself up with its mace, but collapsed again powerlessly, still hissing.

"What is this power? It's not psychic energy? No... Impossible. What is this?"

Talos approached him, the glaive dragging on the ground with a scraping sound, surrounded by the remains of the daemon engine and the corpses of Chaos Space Marines.

At the same time, a ghostly chuckle emanated from beneath his helmet.

"Does this surprise you so much? You claim to know so much. Why are you just lying there like a dead dog now?"

Suddenly, Talos raised his glaive, but instead of looking at the daemon on the ground, he turned to the other side.

A massive creature approached from the smoke, or rather, a construct, a being composed of flesh, bone, and metal, resembling an apex predator. It was almost as large as a Venomcrawler, moving on four clawed legs. Sharp crystals were scattered across its body and forelimbs, and exhaust pipes extended from its shoulders. Its face was a distorted silver skull with fangs and forward-pointing horns, looking neither animal nor human. Two multifaceted crystals were embedded in its eye sockets.

As it opened its mouth, oil and fluids dripped constantly.

"Ah, Soulhunter. You closely resemble a dead madman, but you merely wear his skin. So you believe yourself a hero? The blood of madness flows in your veins, yet you believe yourself noble and great? Can you not see the hypocrisy?"

The thing's voice was unique, carrying the mechanical tones of the Adeptus Mechanicus binary language, while also possessing a certain scholarly air.