"Duel result: Total victory for Enkidu." At that mont, Armand chid in quite inappropriately, shattering the harmonious atmosphere between ntor and student. "Telax, I think you need to practice more."
"In terms of raw strength, I can at least beat most of the battle-brothers; it's just that this kid improves too fast!" Telax retorted stubbornly, walking to the side to pull on a robe. "I've never t an initiate like him. Ten or twenty years just to reach the threshold of armoring is what's normal!"
A hypothesis ford in his mind, causing him a flicker of panic even as it filled him with secret delight. He turned back to look at the youngest Astartes in the warband; for a fleeting second, a shadow seed to overlap with Enkidu.
It was from a distant era that even he had not witnessed—at the very birth of the Legion. There had been a man who, since the Unification Wars of Terra, had accrued countless honors, yet enemies were unable to leave even a single scar upon him.
He had heard that when that man was still a recruit, he could already run circles around the instructors training him.
And those weren't just any Astartes instructors; they were Thunder Warriors.
He sifted through the vast, oceanic mories of millennia. Finally, from the stacks of ancient records, he pulled a blurred image. Although by the ti he joined the Legion, the Thunder Warriors had beco an unspeakable taboo within the Astartes, he had once discovered a few photographs tucked away in a corner of a room while visiting that legend.
Ancient, bronze-colored heavy plate; a single-slit red visor; a horsehair crest fluttering in the wind; and several faces weathered by storm and strife. He had only stared at the photo curiously for half a second before being discovered by the legend, who explained nonchalantly that it was a group photo of the instructors who had taught him, most of whom were now dead.
Later, that legend also fell in the Battle of Gardinaal. Under the pitiless light of a reactor explosion, they had been unable to recover his remains.
He didn't know how Fabius had obtained that man's gene-seed. Had it been harvested in advance? Was it a clone? Or was this kid simply a transcendent talent? Regardless, he did not regret seeking out that damned Apothecary alone after Varex had left.
If Enkidu truly grew to that height, and with the Primarch... they could surely be as they were before: fierce in battle, radiant and noble, invincible wherever the host marched... until they took Terra and beca masters of the world.
Imdiately following this, a groundless terror flooded Telax like a tidal wave. If Enkidu truly inherited the gene-seed of that man, how long could he endure in this warband of hedonists? If he truly turned into a drug-addled junkie, would Telax have the resolve to take his head? And Varex, or that traitor Virsuto—would they move against his great undertaking?
"Telax, what should we do with this pile of Soulstones?"
A real-world voice dragged him back from his reverie. Telax focused his eyes and saw Enkidu pointing at the Soulstone chest on the referee's bench, asking for his opinion.
The human-skin chest smirked exaggeratedly, as if mocking his dreams as re bubbles.
He was suddenly struck by an intense wave of revulsion.
"You can keep the Soulstones inside. They are good items, especially for a psyker." Telax's gaze swept over the shimring gems, a faint pang of regret rising in him. Having lost the duel, he had no justification to claim them. "As for the chest itself, do as you wish."
"Then I'll just burn it. I don't care for this style of decor."
"Suit yourself."
Telax watched as Enkidu poured out the Soulstones, then had the slaves bring a flar. He first swept it over the Soulstones, then incinerated the constantly laughing chest into ash.
He decided to keep his plans hidden, allowing Enkidu to grow along the path he had designed without deviation, keeping him away from mind-altering distractions until he killed Varex and that traitor Virsuto.
He pushed open the door. His power armor made cold, hard footfalls upon entering the private room, which were then absorbed by the expensive plush carpet. Amber light spilled from the ceiling, casting the tapestries on the walls into a blurred haze of purple and gold.
Over four hundred Soulstones of varying sizes, shapes, and hues were piled together, emitting distinct psychic fluctuations—it even gave one the illusion of being watched.
Enkidu stared at them as well.
They were a reward, a fortune, a treasure for a psyker, and also a massive headache. Putting aside whether the Craftworld Aeldari would retaliate, these Soulstones alone were enough to trigger the greed of others. He didn't know how much a veteran could accumulate over hundreds or thousands of years of battle, but Soulstones—things that needed to be sacrificed to Slaanesh—were surely better in higher quantities.
Especially since these ca from Varex.
He picked up a fiery red Soulstone and gazed at it troubledly. A slight warmth lingered on its surface—a gift from the prothium fire. The flas purified all tangible filth, but they could not assure him that Varex hadn't tampered with them.
The thods of Chaos were always bizarre and unpredictable, and Varex was a deeply corrupted Warband Leader with ill intentions. He had every reason to suspect that "surprises" were buried within these gifts.
Therefore, he didn't intend to study the things Varex gave him. If the Dark Aeldari of Commorragh were willing to accept them, he would spend them all to buy himself so new equipnt.
If luck were on his side, perhaps he could secure a ship for a getaway?
That was the plan. Even if Varex had left so little trick on them, it would only be the "pointy-ears" who got screwed.
The thought almost amused him. Enkidu stood up, cheerfully swept them into a plain brown box, and pushed it to the corner of the desk. Then, he unfastened three Soulstones from the trophy-scrip at his waist.
They lay side-by-side on the table like three solidified, miniature nebulae. Two ca from Aeldari warriors; the largest ca from the Warlock. On the Velvet Abyss, he had defeated them and extracted these stones personally. From a provenance standpoint, they were entirely "clean."
Recalling Telax's previous words and the Craftworlders' own transcendent application of psychic power, Enkidu felt a sliver of curiosity mixed with a touch of wicked humor.
Considering that a certain Warlock had not only nearly taken his life but had also been severely lacking in manners, Enkidu unhesitatingly picked up the largest blue Soulstone. His psychic power coalesced into a sharp spike, and he drove it inward.
In an instant, he heard an exceptionally loud scream.
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