The Masque of Slaanesh was captured by Datch with a Master Ball, and Slaanesh's rage was wasted. After a brief period consud by impotent fury, he ordered his daemon legions to retreat into the Warp to halt the advance of Khorne's army. With the Masque of Slaanesh gone, the Slaanesh armies fell back once again.
The daemons and traitors remaining behind faced the combined assault of the Inquisition's elite stormtroopers, the Sisters of Battle, the Grey Knights, and the Cursed Legion. They could not hold out for long. The daemons were banished continuously, their physical forms destroyed in the material realm and forced back into the Warp. Tarautas and the remnants of the Pleasure War, after nurous defeats and deaths, t their end at last.
Realizing that the situation was dire, the madness in Tarautas' mind dissipated, leaving only the instinct to survive. Using the chaos of explosions, he tried to escape through a fissure in a collapsed corridor at the palace's edge.
"I traveled half the galaxy to hunt down trash like you, who betrayed the Emperor."
Just as Tarautas was about to break through, Setheno and several Battle Sisters intercepted him.
Setheno wore ancient power armor, wielding an heirloom power sword, Skarprattar, inscribed with the nas of many martyrs. Her gaze was steely, determined to destroy this loathso traitor and avenge the dead.
"Am I the only traitor in this galaxy? Why do you always hunt down? Rember this: No one in this world can Inquisitor —not even your false Emperor!" Tarautas shouted hysterically.
He moved with astonishing speed, his two tuning fork-shaped blades whistling through the air, leaving afterimages.
"Traitors deserve to die," Setheno said in a low voice, activating her power sword and charging forward. "In the na of the Emperor and Saint Celestine—heretic, face your doom!"
Having analyzed and studied her enemies through countless mock battles, Setheno now aid to finish Tarautas. Her sacred flaming sword blazed with purifying power, stripping Tarautas of every blessing. The blazing blade cut through the air in a motion that lacked beauty but carried absolute intent to purge every evil.
In a mont, their bodies passed one another, and the duel was decided in a single blow. Setheno's hand was severed, a spray of bright red blood erupting as she collapsed, gasping.
Standing tall, Tarautas sneered, ready to declare his victory—only to feel a chill run down his neck and terror cross his face. A bloody gash opened on his throat. The next mont, his head slowly separated from his shoulders, rolling onto the ground. His empty eye sockets stared skyward in a desperate attempt to escape. His headless body shuddered, spewing dirty blood as it toppled again.
The double-headed eagle flag of the Imperium fluttered once more in the devastated palace ruins, declaring the Emperor's will to rule this land again.
After defeating the last enemy, Crowe sheathed his black sword. Antwyr, once again bound, trembled violently and refused to calm down. The daemon let out sharp, venomous screams filled with resentnt and hatred, assailing Crowe's mind, vomiting rage, and longing for Crowe's defeat, hoping to see the Grey Knight succumb to despair.
But it failed once more. With the help of the enigmatic Naless One, Crowe once again rewrote the tide of fate, thwarting Antwyr's plans. After venting its rage, Antwyr shifted tactics, attempting to tempt the Castellan Champion toward corruption. Its smooth, icy whisper seeped directly into the depths of Crowe's consciousness.
"Don't feel triumphant too early. This is nothing but an empty, false victory."
"Grey Knight, you build towers upon sand. When the waves co, your indomitable spirit will collapse like a sandcastle, and your soul will be mine. This is your destiny."
Crowe's expression did not change, but, for once, he replied to Antwyr: "Say another word, and I'll gift you to that Naless Lord imdiately."
"He'd undoubtedly enjoy using you for Sword training."
Deep within Titan's forbidden library, books docunting the Masque of Slaanesh's story were sealed and closely guarded—viewing them even required a witness. Such knowledge about daemons, if gained, could beco an anchor point for intrusion.
Crowe had the rare opportunity to read these dark texts, fully understanding just how terrifying the Masque of Slaanesh truly was. Countless armies had been destroyed in the chaos of internal strife and rampage. Flourishing civil worlds were turned into living hells for millennia, ringing only with groans of pain and twisted dances—a nightmare made manifest, a concentration of despair and agony.
And yet, such a powerful existence had truly been defeated by the Naless One. More terrifying still, it was clear that the Naless One commanded multiple daemons. Even Skarbrand, infamous as Calamity Incarnate, was forced to yield and serve as a minion.
Such an entity, with reason and might beyond asure, would have no issue dealing with Antwyr—the daemon sealed in the sword.
Perhaps sensing the truth in Crowe's words, Antwyr's whisper suddenly stopped. Crowe raised an eyebrow slightly.
It actually worked!
Prayer to the Emperor might not always help, but a threat invoking the Naless One would subdue the daemon.
Are you really that afraid of the Naless One?
"If you want to avoid being handed over to the Naless One, you'd better behave yourself," Crowe warned.
Once upon a ti, such provocation would have sent Antwyr into a rage. How could a mortal threaten a king? Do they not know their place?
Yet now, Antwyr was unusually subdued, frightened by the prospect that the threat might be carried out.
With Tarautas killed, the last command post of the Chaos forces vanished; they beca no more than lambs for the slaughter, unable to cause further trouble.
Even the Imperial Void fleet won a massive victory, crushing or scattering the Chaos warships. To purge the planet Primus, Furia dispatched the Inquisition's Purification Corps. They used flathrowers, lta bombs, and ritually consecrated explosives to systematically burn and destroy the thoroughly corrupted buildings.
The Twisted Crystal Palace was obliterated by a massive explosion, its walls writhing like living tissue in the flas, burning into blackened, charred flesh, and the once-decadent sweet scent replaced by the reek of fire.
Datch summoned Life Spirit as well. The adorable little creature erupted with vibrant life; erald-green waves radiated from its core, seeping into the scorched earth and ruined cracks wherever it passed. Miracles occurred wherever they went. The charred ground grew soft and green grass sprouted, spreading like a living carpet at a speed visible to the naked eye. Wildflowers of all colors blood vigorously among the rubble. Crystal-clear water flowed once again in dried gullies; moss and aquatic plants began to grow wherever there was water. Corpses beca nutrients, promoting the growth of all things and transforming the living hell into a beautiful garden world.
Seeing springs erge from scorched earth and flowers bloom from ruins by Life Spirit's miraculous power, Furia was filled with amazent.
"This one's abilities are terrifying. He must be placed under the court's supervision and guidance. Only then, under the Emperor's radiance, can such great power be used for a righteous purpose." Furia resolved to welco Datch into the Imperial court, her tone pious and determined.
Mordachi and Crowe remained calm, curious to see what would happen next.
Now it was the Inquisitor's turn to test the Naless One's skip technique. Let's hope she doesn't get frustrated and cough up blood.
But Furia's next move shocked everyone. She straightened her bloodstained robe and calmly walked across the ruined battlefield, heading straight to Datch, who was squatting and playing with a little purple flower. Under everyone's gaze, Furia drew a seal made of adamantite and black alloy from her chest. At the top, the Emperor's double-headed eagle stood proud, with a skull and lightning emblem below, representing the Knights of the Holy Hamr. The edge was encircled with binary prayers and runes signifying paranormal certification—tiny as ants.
Just holding it in one's palm conveyed the full dignity and weight of its history.
"Honorable Naless One," Furia said to Datch, "this is the Inquisitorial Seal of the Holy Hamr Inquisition. Its bearer wields the authority of a Inquisitor throughout Imperial territory: to investigate heresy, arbitrate right and wrong, mobilize legions, and even decide the life and death of worlds."
"May the Emperor's supre wisdom grant that you wield this trust and power for the good of mankind."
The aning of the seal far surpassed a re symbol of authority. Court inheritance followed the ancient master-apprentice system. Inquisitors selected teams of apprentices as aides. Only those who survived countless trials of life and death could beco Inquisitors themselves.
Furia's own experience was even more complex—once serving a powerful master who, tragically, was possessed during a hunt. She was forced to end her ntor's life herself, thus inheriting the Inquisitor's title.
Her understanding of the value of the seal ran deep enough to break past countless Inquisitor apprentices' defenses. Datch, who could never have obtained it after a lifeti's effort, now received it so easily—willingly offered with both hands.
Mordachi, Crowe, and the others exchanged bewildered looks, persistently thinking the Naless One should be watched by the court—only to see them made a Inquisitor instead! Are you kidding ?!
Datch glanced at the seal's golden exclamation mark and instantly recognized it as a plot item, unconsciously opening his information bar:
[Ga Item: Inquisitorial Seal of the Holy Hamr]
[Possession grants Inquisitor privileges in most Imperial territories: conscription rights, access to classified files, authority to seek the collaboration of planetary governors, and independent power to deal with matters of heresy, xenos, or daemons.
This seal is protected by dual psionic and physical authentication systems, making it fundantally impossible to forge.]
"Oh—so this ans my favorability is maxed out and I finally got my ID from the Ordo Hereticus!" Datch happily reached out to take the seal. It had heft, a cool surface, and a trace of warmth.
Turning to the astonished crowd, Furia announced in an irrefutable voice, "From this mont, the Naless Lord is formally appointed as Inquisitor of the Holy Hamr and is entitled to equal authority and honor."
"All psionic imprints, data codes, and authorization nodes will update and synchronize with the court backbone network and the Interstellar Judicator System under the Emperor's auspices."
After all this, Furia quietly withdrew, leaving the Naless One unbothered.
"Didn't we agree the Naless should be under the court's supervision?" Crowe asked.
"Exactly," Furia nodded, making no effort to deny it. "Currently, the Naless Lord is an Inquisitor of the Holy Hamr."
The court has an internal oversight chanism, code of conduct, and accountability rules. Inquisitors are bound by them, answerable to both court orders and High Inquisitors.
"Isn't this the most effective and legal kind of 'regulation'? What's the problem?"
Crowe: ...
Mordachi: ...
Others: ...
That's what they'd said, but sohow it didn't feel right...
Datch examined the seal for a while, then put it away. Sotis, low favorability keeps you from entering specific areas. With the Inquisitorial Seal, that shouldn't be a problem anymore. (Except with Fenris Space Wolves—other chapters have so face for the Inquisition...)
Just then, a mission-complete notification popped up in front of Datch:
[Congratulations on completing the mission! You supported Lord Garan Crowe of Grey Knights' Purifiers, defeated the Masque of Slaanesh, and ended the conspiracy in the Anglev star system.]
[Rewards: EXP 1500, Points 1500, Reputation 200, Emperor's Armor *1]
[Congratulations! You saved countless innocent lives in the Angrive system from Chaos corruption and death.]
[Rewards: EXP 1800, Points 1800, Reputation 300, Skill: Sliding Tackle]
Datch pondered for a mont, then took out the Emperor's Armor he'd just earned. The transformation device was a dazzling golden belt blending eastern mystique and futuristic technology. At its center was a yin-yang symbol, surrounded by gems representing the five elents: gold, wood, water, fire, earth.
What boy could resist the lure of transforming into a mighty warrior?
"Emperor's Armor—!"
As Datch called out, golden light instantly engulfed him. His magnificent dancer's costu was wrapped in light. In the next mont, a warrior in five-colored (gold, silver, red, blue, black) armor with dragonlike lines and an awe-inspiring presence appeared. The majestic armor was adorned with dragon heads at the pauldrons, radiating divine and overwhelming power.
"The Emperor's Armor is the manifestation of Heaven's will—to punish all evil!!"
Fully transford, Datch was overjoyed, and when he looked around, everyone present was wide-eyed with awe. Then, Datch surprised everyone again by entering a sliding tackle posture—leaning forward, right leg stretched back, left leg forward, palms outward—and glided across the ground at high speed.
Crowe tried to keep a straight face as a Grey Knight, but couldn't help the twitch at the corners of his mouth. Others felt the sa. When you see such dignified armor, the instinct is reverence—so watching soone do a sliding tackle in this get-up was utterly shocking.
Who would use such cool armor for sothing so abstract?
Datch slid until his stamina and energy ran out, at which point the transformation was released, leaving him dressed like a five-colored power-armored clown, complete with a comical helt.
The Emperor's Armor and Sparklence's base form don't consu points but continuously drain user stamina and energy. Fortunately, Datch had previously obtained the "Killing Desire" skill, which recovers stamina each ti an enemy is defeated. Otherwise, the Emperor's Armor and Tiga transformations wouldn't last long at all.
Thus ended the series of missions involving Crowe.
Datch opened his minimap to check for remaining quest locations and prepared to continue his tasks. Suddenly, a quest notification from the Grand Sage Cawl, appeared.
"So, it's the Grand Sage's turn next?"
Datch took out his teleport gun, set the coordinates, and made ready to teleport and find Grand Sage Cawl. At that instant, the gun flashed a yellow warning: teleport fluid needed refilling.
"With the warning, I should still be able to use it a few more tis." Datch looked at the tiny bit of teleport fluid remaining, considering, "I hope Grand Sage Cawl's quest reward includes teleport fluid. It'd be a waste to have to spend points exchanging for it."
He set the coordinates, opened a teleport portal, and leaped through.
…
anwhile, Crowe, Furia, and Setheno waited for the Naless One to return and discuss matters. They waited and waited, but no one appeared. Only after a long ti, when they sent people to search, did they discover he was already gone.
…
Across the galaxy, on the Ark chanicus.
This Ark chanicus was far larger than any normal warship: a combination of forge world and temple of knowledge, floating fully ard in the Void. Its hull was clad in thick composite armor, covered with innurable chanicus binary prayers, gear seals, and Cawl's personal emblem. Past the portholes, a steady cold glow shone—the ever-present light of research labs, foundries, and data preservation centers.
Colossal energy arrays stretched out like tallic wings, capturing radiation and free energy from space and stars. Giant robotic arms extended from various sections, sotis adjusting external modules, other tis performing precision manipulations aloft. The entire Ark was shielded by massive Void fields, enough to withstand world-destroying firepower.
Belisarius Cawl, credited with reviving Primarchs, creating Primaris Space Marines, and improving countless technologies, was fad as the most knowledgeable of Grand Sages. Yet at this mont, Cawl faced a troubleso dilemma.
His attention was glued to the hologram above: there, the na that strikes fear across worlds—Fabius Bile. Once the Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children Legion, Bile is now among the most dangerous Chaos Sorcerers and gene-alchemists. He's obsessed with breaking the taboos of life and creating so-called "New n." Wherever he goes, only twisted laboratories layered with remains, howling mutant armies, and pervasive terror are left behind.
Now this madman covets Cawl's most prized treasure: the Primarch's Gene-seed, holding forbidden knowledge of ancient human bloodlines. Bile is so arrogant as to want the stack to complete his own blasphemous New n project—perhaps even to replicate or create new Primarchs.
He's bargained and negotiated with Cawl, presenting his grand sches and trying to persuade Cawl to cooperate. Cawl listened and rcilessly mocked him, adding his own sarcasm that surely enraged the paranoid Bile.
Normally, the Archmagos's firepower would leave Bile no hope. The problem was that Cawl had recently built an Eldar Webway Gate, placing it on the lower decks for study. Through so reversal of activation, the enemy hacked inside and broke in from the other side.
Now, Cawl faced fighting off mutants, Chaos Space Marines, and Dark chanicus traitors aboard.
The Ark chanicus held precious gene samples and ancient technologies—losing them would be a disaster.
"Damn, I should have found their location before smart-mouthing him…" Cawl muttered, more vexed by speaking too fast to see through Bile's plot than anything else.
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