To be honest, sprinting through a hail of splinter-fire wasn't an ideal experience, but as a denizen of this universe, one had to learn to coexist with death.
Octavia kept her profile low, stepping past piles of corpses. The cloying stench of blood and human waste fueled her fury, but it was the discordant shrieks of agony and sadistic laughter ahead that truly grated on her nerves. She scanned the surroundings, quickly identifying a suitable ambush point. She knelt, dipped her fingers into a pool of cooling blood, and sared it over her exposed skin to mask her scent from any xenos with heightened olfactory senses.
Ahead, a group of Drukhari Kabalites were amusing themselves with a handful of captives. Two Sslyth rcenaries stood guard nearby, their splinter rifles leveled with cold precision.
"...No... please... no more... just... kill ..."
A flayed officer moaned, his vacant sockets staring at the ceiling—the contents of his eyes had been harvested long ago.
"Please, spare my child!" A woman draped in jewels sobbed hysterically, her mind fracturing. "I'll give you everything! I have a secret stash my husband doesn't even know about! Just take it!"
"Such sweet, exquisite suffering." A Drukhari warrior licked his combat blade with a look of pure trance; the razor edge sliced his tongue, and the mixture of his own blood and the blade's toxin sent him into a shiver of delight. "Mon-keigh are truly born for the lash. Even the lowliest cur yields such a flavorful vintage."
He twirled the dagger with effortless grace before driving it through the woman's skull.
A single, muffled gunshot cracked through the air. The warrior's head erupted like a overripe lon. The surrounding xenos and Sslyth snapped into alertness, only to find themselves pulled together by an unseen force into a tight, vulnerable cluster.
Behind cover, Cassia—the Navigator—lowered her staff, her third eye glowing with a baleful light.
"Hostiles detected!"
"By His light, let the darkness be purged!"
Sister Argenta, her white hair a blur of motion, charged forward. Her bolter roared, spitting a torrential rain of explosive shells. The Sslyth hissed and tried to return fire, but their needles were deflected by an invisible psychic barrier shimring around the Sister.
The roles had shifted. The prey had beco the hunter; the hunters were now the sheep. Under the dual assault of psychic devastation and bolter fire, the small Drukhari party was shredded within seconds, leaving no one left to resist.
Octavia shattered the limbs of the last surviving Drukhari and ground her boot into his chest.
"Tell . Where is your leader?"
"G-good... very good..." the xenos wheezed, a jagged, bloody smile spreading across his dark lips. "More... give ... more, Mon-keigh..."
"Pah. Disgusting." Octavia spat on him, careful not to strike him too hard lest the pain actually give him pleasure. "Talk. Or I'll hurl you into the Warp."
The maddened grin vanished. The warrior on the floor looked at her with the sa raw terror his victims had shown.
"No... no! I'll talk! Lord Marazhai is in your... your 'chapel'!"
BANG.
The Rogue Trader blew the smoke from her pistol and turned toward the remaining captives, granting them a final, rciful end.
A mont later, Octavia marched toward the elevator leading to the sanctuary.
Perhaps the Rogue Trader's counter-attack was too fierce, or perhaps the xenos were weaving a deeper web. After suffering several casualties, the Drukhari warriors scattered like roaches, leaving the path to the chapel conspicuously clear.
"Caution," Octavia warned, stopping in the corridor leading to the sanctum. She ticulously reloaded her magazines and drew several combat stimulants from her belt, injecting them into her veins.
Instantly, an illusory surge of power flooded her fra. She felt as if she could punch through the hull itself; her vision sharpened until she could perceive the microscopic flaws in the tal.
Cassia waved her staff, draping a soft, protective psychic shroud over the group. Sister Argenta knelt, her hands clasped in a silent prayer of the Ecclesiarchy. Beside them stood Heinrix and Abelard... Octavia felt a pang of guilt making her seneschal fight Drukhari at his age, but she didn't dare leave him alone on the bridge.
She scanned the entrance of the hall, spotting the subtle, shimring distortions of a cloaking field. She signaled to the group.
A massive bolt of psychic energy slamd into the distortion. A heavily armored warrior leaped out, wielding two broad-bladed daggers with a sinister, balanced elegance. An Incubus.
"Now!"
Octavia flipped the safety and opened fire with her plasma pistol, but the xenos was a blur of motion, weaving through the bolts and crashing into their line like a bloody gale. Cassia managed to manifest a barrier, but it was swatted aside, sending her tumbling into a pillar.
Tsk.
Octavia stared at the Nightmare raising its blades over her, and for a split second, she accepted the end.
The Incubus stared back with cold eyes. Its blades flashed.
A blinding flare of light erupted. The broad-bladed daggers were deflected upward with a violent ring of tal. The Incubus froze, its body stiffening before it toppled backward. A tiny, perfect hole had been scorched through its face-mask, lting its brain into slag.
The ruby ring on Octavia's finger grew dim. One charge of the lta-beam remaining.
"Clever Mon-keigh!" A dry, emotionless clapping sound drifted from the depths of the chapel. The speaker seed entirely unbothered by the loss of an elite bodyguard. "Your performance is intoxicating. I'm beginning to grow fond of you. Tell ... how would you like to be my pet?"
"Not in your wildest dreams."
Octavia spat the words through gritted teeth as she strode into the sanctuary.
The chapel had been transford into an "artistic" display. The priests were still "serving" their Emperor.
The bloody remains of the clergy were hung from the pillars, their hollowed-out sockets staring at the massive statue in the center—a statue that could not save its faithful.
Octavia gripped the golden Aquila hanging from her neck. Golden light spilled from between her fingers, providing a faint, grounding warmth.
"Marazhai. What is it you want?"
She glared at the Drukhari defiling the holy ground.
"Oh, listen to how the Mon-keigh speaks to ." Marazhai turned with a slow, languid grace, his gaze "licking" over the group. "Poor little monkey... you are so arrogant to address thus. And yet, I admire you. The look of fury on your face as you stumble into my traps... it makes quite... excited."
The xenos walked toward them, unard and unguarded, looking like a spindly shadow. Octavia raised her weapon, but she found her vision blurring, her body becoming heavy and unresponsive.
"My... body... what did you... do?"
"Vile... xenos...!"
"Can't... focus..."
An odorless, colorless toxin perated the air. Marazhai threw his head back and laughed with triumph.
"Oh, my dear... don't bother struggling. This toxin was formulated specifically for you..."
The Aquila talisman on Octavia's chest suddenly grew searingly hot, dragging a shred of her consciousness back from the fog. She glared at him, her fist tightening with effort.
Marazhai leaped back by reflex, but nothing happened. The ruby ring flickered—the Jokaero lta-beam had failed to trigger. He let out a breath of relief, preparing to vent his fury on the "bastard monkey," when another ray of heat hissed past his cheek.
Octavia stared at him, her eyes clouded, but her lips curled into a defiant smirk.
"You damnable b*tch! I'll throw you into the filthiest pits of Commorragh—"
BOOM!!!
A deafening roar shattered the chapel, followed by the panicked shrieks of the low-ranking xenos raiders as they scrambled to flee.
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