Warhammer: Love? Chapter 152: Sister

The Sisters of Battle reacted instantly.

"Form up!" a low female voice commanded. With Valenia dead, another Sister stepped forward to shoulder the heavy burden of command.

The fanatics struggled to stand. So had aged decades in an instant, their limbs trembling uncontrollably, yet they gripped their weapons with white-knuckled intensity. Bolters roared once more.

Chaos Spawn led the charge. Bolter rounds slamd into them, tearing bloody craters into their flesh. But these abominations felt no pain and knew no fear; they simply surged forward. If one had its legs blown off, it crawled with its remaining limbs. If half its body was shredded, it used the other half to roll forward. Their vitality was unnerving, as raw flesh rapidly filled their wounds.

The "pilots" of the Penitent Engines, already severely wounded, succumbed quickly to the accelerated passage of ti. They all expired in agony upon their machines. With the Ecclesiarchy's strongest frontline units out of commission, the fanatics had to hold the line with their bare bodies. They blocked the Chaos Spawn with their own flesh, using explosives to take the monsters down with them in suicidal detonations.

One elderly man, his lower body crushed by a Chaos Spawn, managed to detonate his vest. The nearby Sisters of Battle seized the opening to finish off the beast. But the Chaos Spawn were rely fodder. While the bulk of the Ecclesiarchy's fire was diverted, dozens of small rifts opened throughout the dining hall.

Flars of Tzeentch erged from every tear in reality. They were floating, gibbering magical entities, their bodies covered in twisted faces that scread and mocked. They hissed like mushrooms from beneath and hurled arcs of fire from their burning arms. The mont they appeared, they began to flit about, sowing warpfla from their hands and mouths. The flas were a brilliant, shifting kaleidoscope of colors, incinerating everything they touched.

Fanatics fell screaming, rolling desperately on the ground, but the warpfire could not be extinguished. The power armor of the Sisters began to lt, and their holy relics blackened. Augnted by the Burning Chariot, the Flars' psychic potency reached a fever pitch. The entire dining hall beca a living purgatory.

The Slaaneshi cultists and daemons were not spared; Chaos cared little for its own rival factions. The Flars sprayed fire at anything that moved. Those who had been reveling in ecstasy monts ago were now reduced to ash amidst the multi-colored inferno.

The disadvantage for the Ecclesiarchy forces grew insurmountable. The priests sang their hymns of purification with desperate fervor, but they were too old. After the blue shockwave swept through, everyone had aged by at least twenty years. Their voices were raspy, their breath unsteady, and the light of their relics grew dim.

The Sisters of Battle held on. They stood back-to-back in small formations, using holy bolters to suppress the Flars and power halberds to block the encroaching Chaos Spawn. But they, too, were aging; their movents slowed, and their reactions dulled.

A squad of Sisters protecting a group of priests finally broke. Chaos Spawn smashed through their line, charging into the midst of the clergy. Screams filled the air as priests were torn apart, flattened, or strangled by writhing tentacles. Without the faith-power and hymns of the priests, the remaining Sisters and fanatics lost their vital protection.

The Chaos Sorcerer took the opportunity to increase the spell's potency. The blue shockwave intensified. The fanatics who were still struggling to stand finally collapsed, too weak to even move a finger. The Sisters of Battle fell to their knees one by one. Finally, the only sound left in the hall was the mocking laughter of the Tzeentchian daemons.

The sorcerer laughed wantonly. "Hahahahahaha!"

Stepping over the carpet of corpses, she walked slowly toward where Raynor had fallen. The Governor, the Chosen of the Emperor, the man who had shaken all of Brevis, now lay on the floor, looking as frail as a centenarian.

"The Saint Gallus family," she muttered, "under my leadership, shall ascend to higher..."

She stopped. She felt sothing—a cold, sharp presence rising abruptly within the hall. It didn't co from Chaos, nor did it seem to co from the Emperor. She turned her head.

A common woman. She recognized her: the Governor's wife, Isod Cora. The woman who had followed Raynor with such low presence. Now, she was standing up. A purple glow ford a shield around her, blocking the continuous blue shockwaves.

"Isod" straightened her body. With almost every human in the room dead or unconscious, there was no longer any need for a disguise. Purple chitinous armor erged from within her, enveloping her body and tracing her perfect curves.

Luna narrowed her eyes. She could sense that this woman's power had skyrocketed, reaching a level capable of contending with a Helbrute. But that was all.

"Just you?" Luna sneered. "What can one person change?"

"Isod" did not answer. She simply raised her hand and pointed at the sorcerer.

Suddenly, on the other side of the hall, soone else stood up.

Raynor.

Leaning on the blackened Greatsword thrust into the floor, he slowly rose. The sword left by Valenia was scorched and riddled with cracks, looking as if it might shatter at any mont. But as he gripped the hilt, golden light ignited within his purple eyes. The light grew brighter and more intense until it spilled from his sockets.

The radiance spread across his entire fra, enveloping him. He lifted the sword. The scorched outer shell began to peel away in flakes, falling like petals, revealing the blade beneath. It was blood-red—shining like a crimson crystal amidst the gold. Ancient inscriptions appeared on the blade: holy words of the Emperor, prayers of martyrs, and faith written in blood by generations of Sisters.

The Sword of Valenia! Raynor whispered the na in his heart.

The mont the na left his mind, he felt sothing respond from within the blade. It was Valenia's final will, the embers left behind when she burned her soul. A burst of fla erupted from the sword, igniting the golden light on Raynor's body. He stood bathed in golden fire, a blazing torch in the darkness of the hall.

The fire purified everything; Raynor's youth returned. Even the residual Slaaneshi poison within his body was completely purged. Strength flooded back into his limbs, his power returning to its peak and even pushing beyond.

He raised the sword and pointed it at the Chaos Sorcerer.

The voices of Raynor and "Isod" rang out in unison:

"The battle begins now!"