The Saintess's Protection
"Shut your mouth, you depraved bastard!!"
Cohl roared, a sound like a thunderclap.
This was the first time Eileen had ever heard the usually cold and aloof Custodian erupt in such a furious roar.
For every member of the Adeptus Custodes, the Emperor was their sole faith, the sole meaning of their existence.
To call the Emperor a "dried corpse," or even to refer to the chosen Saint as a "little container," was the greatest blasphemy against the Custodians who had guarded the Imperial Palace for ten millennia—a crime deserving of death, to be washed away with blood.
Boom!
The floor beneath Cohl's feet shattered instantly.
Without holding back, his power armor's output was pushed to its absolute limit. Cohl transformed into a blinding meteor, his guardian spear humming dangerously, aimed straight for Fulgrim's slender neck.
"Damn traitor, I will cut your tongue out!"
Faced with this furious, mountain-splitting blow, Fulgrim did not even move his massive serpentine body.
He merely raised one of his arms, the silver blade in his hand tracing an elegant semicircle through the air.
Clang—
A teeth-grinding impact.
Cohl's powerful strike was once again parried by the daemon Primarch.
Fulgrim's face still wore that mocking smile, his purple eyes filled with derision.
"Ah… so rude… so impatient…"
the daemon Primarch spoke in a cloying voice.
"Since you are so eager to join this revelry, then let the show begin! My lovely children! Let the guests savor this abundant pleasure!"
As his words fell, the previously still air in the hall was instantly ignited by murderous intent.
"For pleasure!!"
"Ultimate perfection!!"
The fallen Phoenix Guard, clad in ornate, corrupted power armor, roared like addicts, brandishing whips and power swords, surging like a purple tide toward Sergeant Varo and the two veterans on the flank.
Meanwhile, on the other side.
Hehehe… little brat… looks easy to cut… come try killing me~
Lucius the Eternal lashed out his grotesquely long tongue, his whip cracking, and launched himself at Sicarius in a bizarrely contorted posture.
"Ultramarine! Hold the line! For the glory of Macragge!"
Sicarius roared, his power sword Talassarian Tempest deflecting Lucius's venomous whip.
"Your swordsmanship is full of flaws, traitor!" Sicarius retaliated with a thrust toward Lucius's face.
"Flaws? It is clearly the allure of ecstasy!"
Lucius chuckled, dodging to the side, his daemon sword slicing through Sicarius's shoulder pauldron.
"Your swordsmanship is too rigid! As boring as your laughable Codex Astartes! Let me teach you what the perfect art of the sword truly is!"
The two clashed, their swords flashing in a dazzling display of violence.
Meanwhile, the battlefield on the other side was even more perilous.
"Die! You False Emperor's lackey!"
Three fallen Phoenix Guard warriors simultaneously thrust their power weapons at Sergeant Varo.
Varo raised his chainsword, parrying left and right, but the immense impact still shattered the floor beneath his feet.
"Hold fast! Do not let them get close to the Holy Warrior!"
The two veterans who had received Eileen's hairbands displayed astonishing resilience.
The Terminator veteran stood like an unyielding rock. The small mithril box with the yellow hairband hanging from his chest now emitted soft halos of light.
A Phoenix Guard attempted to pierce his breastplate with a power sword, but the moment the sword tip touched the surface—
Sizzle—
There was no sound of metal clashing.
The fallen warrior suddenly trembled violently as if electrocuted.
"Aaaaah! My hand! My senses!"
He screamed in terror.
For the followers of Slaanesh, the thrill of killing and the pain of being wounded would normally only amplify their ecstasy.
But the divine golden light emanating from the hairband—the moment this Chaos warrior touched it—robbed him of all "pleasure feedback."
What remained was only a hollow, utterly unpleasant, excruciating pain.
"Out of the way!!"
The Terminator veteran seized the opportunity and unleashed a punch; his power fist shattered the traitor's skull.
"For the glory of the Holy Warriors!!"
Another Sword-Bearer veteran's every swing left a golden afterimage, forcing back enemies several times their number.
Although they were outnumbered, under the protection of the two "holy relics bestowed by Lady Eileen," they managed to hold their small triangular position against the Chaos traitors' frenzied attacks.
However, they knew this was merely a stalemate in a localized battle.
The real deciding factor would be the duel between demigods.
Bang!!
In the center of the hall, Cohl's figure was sent flying again.
He crashed into another mutated stone pillar as thick as two men could embrace, his power armor riddled with sword marks of varying depths, half of his left shoulder plate sheared away, revealing the damaged servo-muscle bundles beneath.
Huff… huff…
Cohl leaned on his guardian spear, struggling to maintain his footing. The red lenses of his helmet dimmed slightly.
He had pushed his skills as a Custodian to their limits.
But against a Primarch, it was still insufficient.
"Truly disappointing."
Fulgrim swirled his massive serpentine tail, his weapon raised high, as if showing off his power.
"This is the 'masterpiece' that the Corpse-Emperor on the Throne is so proud of? This is the Custodian who claims to protect the future of this decaying empire?"
He looked at Cohl with disdain, his voice filled with arrogance.
"What a crude creation. So powerless. Like an unpolished piece of scrap."
"Look at me…"
Fulgrim spun, displaying his half-human, half-serpent body.
"This is perfection. This is the ultimate form forged by the power of the gods."
"Come now, little golden man. Let me see how much more pleasure you can bring me."
Cohl remained silent.
He adjusted his breathing and charged again.
This time, he completely abandoned defense, choosing a suicidal attack.
The spear, with unstoppable momentum, pierced toward Fulgrim's heart.
"Too slow."
Fulgrim did not even use his sword to block.
His free hand shot out like a lightning-fast serpent, grabbing the spear's haft.
Squeak—
The haft, crafted from auramite, was firmly locked in place by the Primarch's monstrous strength, utterly immovable.
Cohl tried to pull back his weapon, but the opponent's power was as unshakeable as a mountain.
"Got you."
Fulgrim revealed a cruel smile.
His uppermost hand swung the Blade of the Laer, making a light slash.
Pfft!
A gash instantly appeared on Cohl's left thigh; blood gushed out.
But this was only the beginning.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Silver sword light flashed across Cohl's body like slow, agonizing torture.
Fulgrim did not rush to deliver the fatal blow.
He sculpted Cohl's armor piece by piece, like sculpting a work of art, or carving a steak, tearing open his skin bit by bit.
"Ah… beautiful…"
With each cut, Fulgrim let out a sensual groan, as if the blows were striking his own flesh.
"Watching this beautiful trajectory… this thrill of destroying the Corpse-Emperor's creation… the stinging pleasure…"
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath of the blood-soaked air, and a chillingly ecstatic expression appeared on his face.
"Can you feel it, Custodian? This ecstasy born from destruction?"
Cohl remained silent, abandoning his spear and drawing a misericordia from his waist, plunging it fiercely into Fulgrim's abdomen.
Thud!
The dagger pierced Fulgrim's serpentine scales; black, viscous blood flowed out.
But Fulgrim did not dodge; instead, he actively met the blade, allowing it to penetrate even deeper.
"Ah—!!"
He let out a high-pitched scream, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, his body trembling violently.
"Yes! Deeper! Let the pain come even more fiercely!"
The voice carried a strange magic, making even the battle-hardened Cohl feel extremely uncomfortable, his movements momentarily slowed.
In that instant—
Fulgrim abruptly opened his eyes, his purple pupils flashing with murderous intent.
"Your role is over."
His serpentine tail lashed out.
Bang!
The immense force struck Cohl's chest.
The Custodian was sent flying backward like a battering ram, crashing heavily to the ground. His breastplate caved in, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Click.
Fulgrim slithered over, looking down at the Custodian beneath him.
He raised the Blade of the Laer.
"What a perfect finale."
Fulgrim's voice turned icy.
"Though you are so uninteresting, your death will be the first sacrifice offered to the Dark Prince in this grand celebration."
"Farewell, scrap-metal of the False Emperor."
The Blade of the Laer fell.
The shadow of death loomed over Cohl.
In the distance, Sicarius was entangled by Lucius and unable to break free. Varo and the others were tightly surrounded by the Phoenix Guard.
Standing at the back, Eileen watched this scene, her nails digging into her flesh.
That big golden corn, who always had a cold face, who always indifferently and unreasonably protected her—Uncle Cohl, who was like an invincible god…
Was he going to die?
"No… no!"
Eileen screamed inwardly.
"Old Huang! How much longer?! That big guy is going to die!"
"Almost there! Almost there!"
Old Huang's voice remained calm, but his pace had noticeably quickened.
"I am recovering the warp energy left behind by those Noise Marines!"
"Their energy is tainted; I am filtering it! Just hold on a little longer!"
"Once I have fully charged you, I can unleash a wave of ruthless individuals to wipe out these freaks!"
"I cannot hold on any longer!!"
Eileen watched Fulgrim's sword fall.
For that giant, there was not even a second left.
An unprecedented impulse instantly overwhelmed Eileen's reason.
That was her promise—we do not abandon our comrades.
"Screw you!"
Eileen cursed.
She did not wait any longer.
She closed her eyes, her consciousness plunging into the golden ocean within her body.
Ignoring Old Huang's earlier warning about "the limits of physical endurance," and disregarding whether it would burn away the memories in her brain—
like a madwoman, she forcefully extracted the purest and most domineering divine power.
Boom—!
Blood and tears streamed from her eyes.
Her body emitted a cracking sound, as if it could no longer withstand the strain.
But she moved.
So fast that she disregarded all the laws of physics.
In the final tenth of a second before Fulgrim's silver sword was about to sever Cohl's head—
Clang!!!!!
A deafening metallic explosion.
Sparks flew everywhere.
Fulgrim's hand, gripping the Blade of the Laer, froze in mid-air.
Disbelief filled his purple eyes.
What had blocked his fatal blow was—
a small dagger burning with orange-red, mortal fury…
and a tiny hand, thinner than his finger, holding that dagger.
Eileen stood before Cohl.
Her feet sank deep into the marble floor, past her ankles.
Her arms trembled, joints creaking.
But she held the massive daemon sword firmly, not yielding an inch.
Eileen raised her head.
Her small face, streaked with blood and tears, shone with a murderous intent more frenzied than that of a champion of Khorne, her eyes blazing with golden fire.
She looked at the handsome, otherworldly, and arrogant daemon Primarch before her.
She took a deep breath.
Then, she roared:
"You… boring, rotten-ass hermaphrodite!!"
Eileen's voice was filled with rage.
"He is my… Eileen's little brother!!"
She thrust upward sharply, the orange-red flames on her short sword flaring up, forcing Fulgrim's blade back an inch.
"Who gave you permission… to touch him?!!!!"
—
Sicarius and Lucius, caught in the midst of their fierce battle, stopped in their tracks.
Fulgrim's perfect face froze.
"Boring…?"
"You… you… called me… what?"
Fulgrim's voice trembled, his eerie face contorting…