Chapter 21: Embers
Using a Greater Daemon's ploy on Dos was a case of hurting the enemy one hundred points and hurting yourself a thousand. Right now, both of their minds were ringing like drums.
Dos flapped his wings and shot skyward like an arrow, and the Greater Daemon steeled itself and chased after him.
Dos's idea was simple: widen his advantage. If he shifted the battlefield from a two-dimensional ground to a three-dimensional sky, his speed would become overwhelming.
But seeing the Greater Daemon take off with those ragged wings, Dos couldn't help snorting: "Jeez, if you'd lived in the 2K era, Newton's coffin-lid would've popped right off."
Dos clapped his hands, and the clouds on either side of the daemon instantly sharpened into rams and lunged like ravenous tigers. The daemon, in turn, merely flicked its arm, slicing the clouds apart like vegetables. Dos's grasp of Psychic Power was still too crude.
The pair of gold and red silhouettes tangled in the sky, then plummeted like kites with cut strings, smashing back to earth.
(T/N: Gold & Red in Sky, Deja vu!)
Thirty Seconds Earlier
Dos was still using his speed to slash the daemon again and again. He was picking up a new technique, at the very least, he wasn't striking its armour anymore. Every time he hit the armour, voices like "Blood, Slaughter, Carnage" would nag in his ears, giving him a constant headache.
The daemon's whip lashed out. Dos tried to dodge, but this time the whip curved as if it had eyes and wrapped around his leg. Only then did he realize how close he'd come to the red Light Pillar—and that, unnoticed, the beams had multiplied.
Eight pillars now connected sky and earth, and the barrier between real-space and the Warp was reduced to paper-thin.
"Cheap bastard!" Dos yelled, folding his wings around himself. "All daemons are cheap bastards."
The daemon's right arm muscles writhed like a knot of serpents. With a crack, the short-hafted axe howled through the air toward Dos like a headsman's blade.
One Psychic Wing was cut off, scattering it like a speck of starlight. Dos screamed as he fell, as helpless as a bird with snapped wings tumbling off a cliff.
BOOM!
A crater opened in the ground, and cracks spread outward like a spider web. The halo above his head dimmed, then shattered; his other wing also vanished. His pupils turned blue again. His heart was filled with bewilderment and the grief of knowing the fight was lost.
"AHH" Without the psychic boost, the pain almost knocked him on the verge of unconsciousness. His power sword was a useless shard, and his right forearm had gained two extra "joints" from the fracture.
"AHH, Fuck you, son of a bitch. "White bone spikes pierced flesh and vein. At this rate, he'll probably bleed out before the daemon finishes him.
The Greater Daemon landed softly a few feet away from him. It was badly hurt, yet its aura felt even more terrifying.
"Whoever at GW wrote the rule that the more wounded it is, the stronger it gets is a goddamn idiot," Dos cursed weakly.
Even if he beat the daemon, he couldn't shut the pillar. If he guessed right, it would soon become a gate between realspace and the Warp. Death would come for him either way. His vision blurred, and his eyelids turned red from his spilling blood.
The daemon's form split into three, two of them faint. Ahh shit—hallucinations? Was he dying so soon?
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Dos felt it before he heard it, the vibrations coming from the ground as if the Leman tank had suddenly gained legs and was coming towards him.
Dos struggled to turn his head; his eyes had become tear-filled from pain, but for a moment, suddenly, pain was replaced with euphoria. Hazily, he saw several Astartes in silvery-grey power armour, bright as silver and hard as steel. They belonged to no Chapter he knew. Their weapons were odd—Guardian spears, the kind only Custodes, but these guys were not golden?
Am I daydreaming...?
Dos lost consciousness, completely succumbing to his injuries and splitting headache.
....
Both shoulders of the Greater Daemon were skewered by power halberds. Two Astartes crossed their polearms, pinning its neck. Its palms were likewise nailed to the ground, five Astartes in all. The only free one, clearly the sergeant, raised a halberd glowing blue.
"Traitor, you have forsaken the Emperor of Mankind's glory. The Emperor finds you sinful. I sentence you—death!"
The Astartes once more spoke the daemon's True Name; only then could it be truly slain.
"Nooo—"
The daemon's head flew. Its body crumbled to ash, though it would still need time to fully die. Light faded rapidly from its eyes. Its mouth opened and closed: "Who... are you...?"
The sergeant obviously didn't bother answering. He infused his boot with psychic force and stomped, bursting the head apart.
"Seal that Chaos god-weapon in a Stasis Field. I suspect another powerful daemon's soul is trapped inside," he commanded.
The sergeant glanced at Dos. "Wrap this on him." He tossed a roll of bandage that shimmered with faint holy light, a priceless treasure from beneath the Himalayas on Holy Terra, speeding healing and suppressing Chaos taint.
"Master, did you nick that from the kitty?" one of the Astartes asked.
"Less questions. Next, the immature Warp Rift," the sergeant replied.
"Oh... As you say."
Two Days Later
Dos opened his eyes slowly to dim light; the familiar roof welcomed him, and he caught sight of the med-tent, then finally his eyes landed on 0361.
"0361" Dos thought for a moment, and spoke in horase voice, "Did you die? How?"
0361 stared at him blankly. She figured Dos's brain had been scrambled.
Seeing her reaction, Dos froze, then yelled, "Yes! I'm alive—cough cough." His joy was short-lived as he realized his position. Dos neck was covered with a cast, most of his body covered in bandages, and he reeked of medicine. Then he went still and lay rigid on the cot.
0361 came closer to him and did a medic check, "Still breathing."
Seeing that he was breathing and awake, she left the tent and went to fetch the Quartermaster.
...
Dos woke again, groaning in pain. Twenty-odd fractures, ten-odd muscle tears, and being able to howl counted as good condition.
"Easy, easy—be gentle OW!" Dos was "enjoying" the Quartermaster's bone-setting. Seeing his grimaces, 0361 felt helpless and a little schadenfreude.
With no plaster, the earlier splints had shifted when Dos thrashed. They were being reset now with wooden splints. 0361 waited while the Quartermaster finished his work.
So how did the Greater Daemon die? No idea. What about the Light Pillar? No clue. 0361 don't know anything.
Dos rolled his eyes. "Waste of breath." He reached his hand for water, but before he could reach the cup, it twitched.
"The power's still here!" He tried again, and the cup slid a bit, then nothing more. It looked like it would vanish soon, an expired experience ticket. He glanced at 0361, and her hand was already on her Bolter.
"Hooold up!" Dos sighed. "Next time something looks Chaos-tainted, can you wait for my explanation first?"
In the end, Dos gave 0361 a "slightly embellished" account of his Warp trip.
"All right, I believe you," she said, re-holstering the Bolter, surprising Dos.
His inner troll sparked up: "Aren't you afraid this is a Chaos scheme?"
"You're my Political Commissar, why would you lie?" For a second, Dos was touched with emotion. Then her next line fed that touch to the dogs.
"With your strength, even if you Ascend, you'd still be within manageable limits."
Wait, wasn't that a roundabout way of calling him weak?
Doss spoke, smiling, gritting his teeth, "Fuck you!"
0361 returned the greeting "Fuck you too, Commissar."
[End of Chapter]