In the dimly lit hall, the suit of golden armor radiated a brilliance as dazzling as the sun.
The Sister's pupils dilated slightly.
Raynor...
Ralph silently and joyfully repeated the name in her mind.
The newcomer was indeed the Emperor's Custodian, Raynor.
A Custodian.
Standing three meters tall with an erect posture, he resembled an immovable mountain.
He and Ralph formed one of the Imperium's most renowned duos, known as the "Emperor's Talons."
Raynor possessed the pinnacle of the Human Imperium's martial arts and technological equipment, capable of frontally destroying any tangible foe. Ralph, meanwhile, was a psychic void, capable of suppressing all sorcerers and demons. They had been partners for decades, executing countless near-death missions together, and had never once failed.
A few years ago, they were ordered to escort Black Ships across various regions to collect "fuel" for the Master of Mankind. During a warp journey six months ago, they encountered a Chaos Space Marine warband. To protect the psykers aboard the Black Ship, Raynor fought a Chaos Lord to the death. Although he eventually drove the enemy away, he was severely injured. Since then, he had been slumbering in the finest medical stasis pod aboard the Gemstone.
Ralph had originally thought Raynor would need several more months to awaken. She hadn't expected him to wake up at this most critical moment.
[Are you alright?]
Raynor asked Ralph using the specialized sign language of the Sisters of Silence. His eyes were calm and steady, carrying a reassuring power. Unlike his usual cold gestures, this time, his signs held a trace of subtle concern.
Ralph shook her head and replied with signs:
[I am fine. Be careful, this Greenskin is very unusual.]
Raynor nodded, signaling his understanding. He turned his body to face Ragnar, who stood not far away. Beneath the golden helmet, his gaze burned like fire.
Ragnar frowned, looking Raynor up and down.
"Another shrimp in weird clothes."
"A golden one this time."
"Makes me want some corn..."
He didn't take this suddenly appearing "Golden Corn" seriously at all; he just happened to have a sudden craving for corn. In his eyes, his current self was invincible. No one could defeat him.
"Get lost!"
Ragnar roared and charged toward Raynor. He held nothing back, swinging a fist aimed directly at Raynor's head. The punch carried a howling wind, powerful enough to collapse a Terminator.
Raynor's expression remained unchanged. He slammed his left arm upward. The pauldron on his left arm met Ragnar's fist.
CLANG!!!
A metallic collision loud enough to shatter eardrums rang out. A powerful shockwave expanded in all directions. The expensive crystal chandeliers on the hall's ceiling shattered, raining down a glittering shower of glass. Debris and dust on the ground were blown into the air.
Ragnar felt as if his fist had struck a mountain of steel. A massive counter-force surged from his fist, numbing his arm. This was the first time since his transformation that he had encountered such resistance.
"Huh?"
A look of surprise appeared on Ragnar's face. He looked down at his fist. A shallow crack had actually appeared on his metal gauntlet.
Raynor, too, was jolted back several meters by the immense power of the punch. A clear fist-print was left on her left pauldron. However, the Auric armor was far harder than ceramite and was not pierced.
Raynor's gaze became incredibly grave.
He was a Custodian of the Emperor. He stood at the absolute pinnacle of individual combat power in the Human Imperium. Unlike Space Marines, who could be mass-produced using Primarch genes, Custodians were true masterpieces. Their genetics came directly from the Great Emperor himself. Every Custodian was a one-in-ten-thousand genius, having undergone the most brutal training and perfect genetic modification. They were perfect creations of the Emperor's own gene-editing.
He had once single-handedly slain champions of Chaos and torn apart Tyranid bio-monsters with his bare hands. But that single punch just now had given him a feeling of being "overmatched." The Greenskin before him was much stronger than he had imagined.
"Interesting."
Raynor's voice remained calm. With a flick of his right hand, he drew the Guardian Spear from his back. The spear was the standard weapon of the Custodians. The spearhead, forged from pure adamantium, glinted with a cold light. The shaft featured a built-in twin-linked bolter, firing specialized adamantium-tipped rounds with power far exceeding conventional bolters.
"Now, it is my turn."
Raynor pushed off the ground and charged toward Ragnar. His speed was even faster than Ralph's, leaving only a golden blur in his wake.
"Taste my spear!"
Raynor let out a sharp cry, his Guardian Spear lancing out like golden lightning toward Ragnar's heart. Simultaneously, the built-in twin-linked bolter fired. Two adamantium bolts followed immediately, aimed at Ragnar's head.
Ragnar dared not be careless. He quickly dodged the spear thrust. At the same time, he raised his arm to shield his face.
BANG! BANG!
The two armor-piercing bolts struck Ragnar's arm. The bullets embedded themselves deeply into his muscle but failed to penetrate completely. Ragnar grunted in pain and roared, swinging a fist at Raynor's head.
Raynor was prepared. He ducked low, evading Ragnar's fist. Simultaneously, his spear swept horizontally toward Ragnar's legs. Ragnar leaped into the air, avoiding the sweep. He twisted mid-air, attempting to stomp down on Raynor's head.
Raynor leaped backward, creating distance. The two exchanged blows, locked in combat. The golden spear and the green fists collided repeatedly. Sparks flew, and the sounds of impact were incessant. The entire hall trembled under the force of their battle.
However, whether in speed or strength, Raynor was still a step behind Ragnar. He could only manage to hold his ground by relying on years of accumulated combat experience.
At that moment, Ralph regained some strength. She struggled to her feet, drew her power greatsword, and rejoined the fray. The "Emperor's Talons" were fighting side-by-side once again.
They had been partners for decades. Their mutual understanding was etched into their very bones. No words were needed; a single look or movement was enough to know what the other intended. Raynor handled the frontal confrontation, using his immense strength and exquisite skill to pin Ragnar down. Ralph moved along the flanks, constantly searching for openings in Ragnar's defense to launch lethal ambushes.
Individually, their strength was significantly lower than Ragnar's, but their coordination was flawless. One attacking, one defending; one overt, one covert. They gradually stabilized the situation, trading blows back and forth with Ragnar.
Ragnar grew increasingly frustrated. He clearly possessed overwhelming strength and speed, yet he couldn't quickly finish off these two women. They were like two slippery loaches, always managing to dodge his attacks at exactly the right moment. Furthermore, their attacks were extremely cunning, always striking him when he was most vulnerable. Though they couldn't deal a fatal blow, they kept him exhausted just trying to keep up.
"Dammit! You two are annoying!"
Ragnar roared, suddenly unleashing his full strength. A wave of green energy erupted from his body. Raynor and Ralph were both blown back by the blast.
Ragnar seized the opportunity and stopped engaging them. He turned abruptly and charged toward the bridge doors at the end of the hall. His target had never been these two women; it was Dominic. As long as he killed Dominic, the war would be over.
"Stop him! Don't let him reach the bridge!"
Ralph's face changed drastically as she signaled frantically. Raynor also immediately gave chase. But Ragnar's speed was too high. In a few strides, he reached the bridge doors. He raised his fist, preparing to smash them open. As soon as those doors opened, he would see that proud shrimp noble.
While Ragnar clashed fiercely with the Emperor's Talons, a violent firefight raged on the mid-decks of the Gemstone.
Inside the control room of a macro-cannon, a desperate struggle was underway.
"Open fire! Don't let those Greenskins get close!"
A naval security captain shouted from behind a console. He led a hundred-strong naval guard, holding the line within this vital control hub. Dozens of Deathskulls Orks took cover on the far side of the corridor, suppression fire from their scrap-shootas and snazzguns lashing the room. Bullets and las-beams struck the metal walls, erupting in blinding sparks.
"Captain, we're almost out of ammunition!" a soldier yelled.
"Hold your ground! Reinforcements are coming!" the captain barked through gritted teeth. But he knew the entire Gemstone was in chaos. He had no idea if help would arrive before they were overrun.
At that moment, a faint sound echoed from the control room's ventilation ducts. The vent grate fell away soundlessly, and a figure dropped into the center of the room.
Both the naval guards and the Orks froze, staring at the uninvited guest.
The figure wore a suit of purple bio-armor. Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, flowing with a metallic luster. The lines were elegant yet suggested immense power. A full-coverage mask hid his face, featuring a single spiral horn and two striking eyes: one deep as a violet abyss, the other bright as a golden sun. Behind him, the spectral image of a terrifying, insectoid behemoth flickered, radiating a suffocating pressure.
He stood there in silence. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop.
"Who are you!?"
The naval captain was the first to react. He leveled his lasgun at the stranger while reaching for his vox-link with the other hand. But as his fingers brushed the device—
Flash!
A near-invisible glint of cold light flickered. The captain's wrist was severed cleanly. Blood sprayed outward.
"AAAGH!!!"
The captain screamed, staring in disbelief at his hand on the floor. Before anyone else could react, more glints of light flashed through the room. Every person in the control room—naval guard and Ork alike—was instantly reduced to fragments. Blood and viscera splattered the consoles. Not a single person had time to scream. The entire process took less than a second.
The behemoth behind Lynn elegantly retracted its psychic threads. Lynn looked at the carnage and sighed softly.
"I admire your courage, but I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen me." His voice was cold and flat. He couldn't allow his secrets to be known.
Lynn looked toward the bridge. His eyes narrowed.
"Ragnar..."
He vanished into a purple blur, streaking out of the control room toward the bridge.
CRACK!
Ragnar's iron fist was inches from the bridge doors. The half-meter-thick adamantium alloy was warping under the pressure of his strikes. Fissures spread like spiderwebs across the surface. Two more seconds, and the door would shatter. The proud noble hiding behind it would become the freshest ingredient in his pot.
Ralph knew she couldn't wait any longer. She exchanged a glance with Raynor. Her black eyes held no fear, only absolute resolve.
Raynor gripped his Guardian Spear, his brow furrowed beneath his golden helmet. He shook his head slightly—a instinctive gesture of resistance. This wasn't a Custodian tactic. Throwing a comrade of decades into a monster as a human projectile felt like a desecration of the Emperor's Talons' honor. If they failed, there wouldn't even be enough of Ralph left for a burial.
Ralph gave him no time to argue. Her fingers flew through a series of urgent signs.
[Dominic is behind that bridge.] [No time.] [For the Emperor.]
As the last sign fell, her fingertips lightly touched her chest—the secret signal they had agreed upon during their first mission together.
Raynor's body stiffened. He went silent for several microseconds. Finally, he nodded.
His massive golden hand reached out, the heavy gauntlet wrapping tightly around Ralph's hand. He spun his body violently, his heavy Auric armor scraping sparks off the marble floor. One rotation, two, three—the centrifugal force made the air shriek.
"Go!"
Raynor's voice carried a rare, raspy tremor. He let go.
Ralph shot through the air like a black cannonball, tearing through the atmosphere toward Ragnar's back.
The sound alerted Ragnar. He pulled back his fist and turned impatiently.
"Pesky flies."
He grinned, revealing yellowed tusks. If this black-armored woman was in such a hurry to die, he would oblige her. Killing her would only take a few extra seconds before he took the noble's head. He raised his right fist, which was still coated in the molten slag of a Stormblade tank. He calculated her trajectory perfectly; this punch would turn her and her Vratine armor into a pulp.
"Nowhere to hide this time!"
Ralph's face remained expressionless. Ten meters from Ragnar, she threw her sacred relic greatsword.
SHING!
The black blade, carved with holy runes, streaked toward Ragnar's left eye.
"Puny trick."
Ragnar snorted and swatted it away. Sparks flew as the sword was hammered aside, spinning through the air until it buried itself deep in the marble floor five meters away.
At that moment, Ralph flicked her left hand downward. A grenade landed precisely beneath her.
BOOM!
The explosion erupted under her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest to brace. The blast wave shoved her upward, snapping her horizontal flight path into a sharp, steep vertical angle.
"Eh?"
Ragnar's fist whistled through the air where she had been, the wind nearly tearing the topknot from her helmet. He froze. This woman had gone through all that trouble just to dodge a punch?
Before he could look up, a chilling killing intent slammed into him from the front. Raynor was there, a golden gale of destruction. The adamantium tip of his Guardian Spear lunged for Ragnar's face.
"That again!"
Ragnar sneered. To him, this was just their usual diversionary tactic. He raised his left arm to block the spear as he had done before.
However, just as his arm was about to meet the tip, a bone-chilling intent dropped from directly above him.
Ragnar's pupils shrank. He finally realized where Ralph had gone.
She had kicked off the ceiling, using the recoil to dive down like a plunging meteor. In her right hand, she gripped a silver-blue dagger—an Adeptus Mechanicus relic called the "Cataclysm Blossom." It was designed for use against massive mechanical units, capable of discharging five million volts of high-voltage electricity in an instant.
STAB!
The dagger plunged into the softest part of Ragnar's nape.
CRACKLE! CRACKLE!
Millions of volts of blue lightning erupted, coiling around Ragnar like maddened electric serpents.
"AAAGH!!!"
Ragnar let out a roar of agony. His body convulsed violently, muscles spasming out of control. His toughened skin charred and blistered under the surge; every nerve felt as if it were being incinerated. He was pinned to the spot like a statue.
"It worked!"
The surviving guards let out a suppressed cheer. Raynor exhaled, gripping his spear and watching Ragnar warily, ready to deliver a finishing blow.
However, after only three seconds, Ragnar's roars subsided. The arcs of electricity were visibly weakening. His convulsions slowed.
"Use... less..."
Ragnar gritted his teeth, forcing the words out one by one. His vocal cords were scorched, making his voice sound like the mechanical rasp of a Tech-Priest.
"This... level... of... current." "My... body... adapts... quickly." "When I'm done... I'll... grind you... to... paste."
As he spoke, his fingers began to twitch. In five seconds, he would break free from the current's grip.