Skykeep, the headquarters of the Garland Council, a castle with over 180 years of history, was now utterly destroyed in every sense. This masterpiece, built over decades by witches with the help of human and dwarven artisans—a marvel of civilization—had been reduced to ruins. The once-majestic sorcerer towers that glowed with magical light had all collapsed, and even the mountain beneath was fractured by Chaos magic. Thousands of witches, servants, guards, freelancers, and passersby had perished. In a twisted sense, they were fortunate, for those whose souls didn't return to the embrace of Morr, the god of death, were instead devoured by Tzeentch's demons, their souls enslaved or consumed for eternity in the Realm of Chaos.
The fate of the survivors was far worse.
Their flesh and souls were fused with the ruins of the castle by the hellish methods of Tzeentch's demons. Human forms became intertwined with cold wood and stone, to the point that flesh and rock became indistinguishable. Twisted faces appeared on the walls, and writhing limbs emerged from the pavement. Pillars groaned, their voices coming from what had once been human throats.
It was a nightmarish scene, but for the demons of Tzeentch, it was the most delectable of feasts. At the entrance to the collapsed central tower, Margarita, the Speaker of the Garland Council, faced the mighty Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, Sassoriel the Eternal Watcher. This giant bird-like daemon was clad in golden-blue feathers, its wings outstretched as terrifying torrents of sorcery swirled around its body.
Yet, despite the immense power of the daemon, Margarita stood tall before it, her presence equally imposing. Two auras surrounded her: one was a radiant white ring infused with powerful Light magic, while the other was marked with the symbol of a flaming key made from Akshyian fire, brimming with the destructive power to obliterate entire city blocks.
The sheer force of these energies made even Sassoriel, the mighty daemon, wary. Their magical beams clashed in the air, as Sassoriel's molten stream of destruction was blocked by Margarita's wall of fire.
However, Margarita's already aged appearance was rapidly deteriorating. Her once well-maintained black-brown hair became brittle like straw, streaked with white until it was completely gray. The wrinkles on her face deepened, and her expression shifted from sorrow to resignation, becoming numb to everything. She began chanting her final spell, her voice heavy with finality: "This will be the last time the Garland flower blooms in Skykeep."
"Garland Grand Spell: The Bloom of Life."
Margarita's final lifeforce erupted from her, unleashing the Grand Spell of Light magic. It spread out in a brilliant nova, encompassing the entire battlefield. The followers and demons of Tzeentch felt the same terrifying effects that had plagued the witches earlier. Hundreds of Tzeentch cultists and demons were reduced to ash, while the remaining forces were gravely wounded or knocked to the ground. The powerful Light magic seared their flesh, steam rising as it burned away the chaotic energy that sustained them. Even the wings and arms of Sassoriel were scorched by Margarita's power.
The daemon's wings were aflame, its beautiful multicolored feathers charred to cinders. Its arms, which it had raised to shield its face, had flesh peeling from the bone, seared away by the magic. This close-range blast had severely wounded even the mighty Greater Daemon.
Had Margarita been able to cast one more spell of such magnitude, she could have banished even a top-tier daemon like Sassoriel back to the Warp.
But it was not to be. As the final spell left her, Margarita was now an old, withered woman, her once flowing hair now fully white, her body bent and frail.
"You have nowhere to run," screeched the Greater Daemon, struggling to recover from its wounds.
"No, it is you who has nowhere to run," Margarita replied with a sorrowful smile. She shakily raised her hand, gazing at her withered, bark-like skin and skeletal fingers. With a sigh, she murmured, "He would never love me like this, not in this state... But it doesn't matter anymore. It's all over. This is the end!"
At that moment, the ground beneath Skykeep began to glow with the Akshyan light, the symbol of a flaming key forming out of endless fire. A terrible power was being unleashed from the depths below. Leaning on her staff, Margarita hurriedly addressed the Greater Daemon, her voice calm yet urgent. "A hundred years ago, I foresaw this day. I wondered if Skykeep would ever face its end. I could not allow that to happen—not without it being by my own hand."
"You?!" The Greater Daemon could feel the tremors beneath its feet. "You inscribed the array into the city's foundation? You madwoman! MADWOMAN!!!"
"Now, let this castle witness my final masterpiece." Margarita spread her arms wide. "Art is… a meteor shower!"
"Akshyian Supreme Spell: Doomsday Judgment!"
The entire city-wide array activated, tearing a rift open in the sky. Hundreds of flaming meteors descended, tearing through the snow-filled skies of Skykeep. Over two hundred fiery rocks, each no less than 20 meters in diameter, crashed down onto Skykeep, the headquarters of the Garland Council.
"Damn it!" The Greater Daemon of Tzeentch immediately realized the danger. Each meteor was engulfed in searing flames, radiating immense heat. There was no escape—Margarita had set the entire city, herself included, to burn along with Tzeentch's army.
With her final lifeforce drained, Margarita closed her eyes. In her last moments, a vision of Veronica's sweet face flashed before her.
The future of the Garland Council is now yours, Veronica. You've finally gotten your wish, though I wonder… is this really what you wanted?
Would her last disciple be able to carry the weight of this responsibility?
Margarita would never know.
Then, another face appeared in her mind: the face of the Savior. His face had always looked the same in her memory—sallow skin, round-framed glasses, a long braid trailing down his back, and the ever-pious squint of his eyes that made him look like a priest.
In the end, I hated him the most!
It was him!!!
...
Twenty minutes earlier, in the underground hall of the central tower.
Tza-Zanek's final strike was about to plunge into Theresa's chest, and the sorceress had nearly lost all her strength. The sharp, azure glow of the Sword of Tzeentch hovered over her, ready to strike.
At that moment, Theresa felt a sudden warmth ignite in her abdomen. It was the spirit rune Ryan had inscribed on her, glowing brightly. The rune's sword symbol radiated a blinding white light, with wings of energy unfurling from it like living beings. The brilliant light seared Tza-Zanek's eyes, causing him to howl in pain. The champion of Tzeentch stumbled back, covering his face with all four hands. "What?!"
The warmth from the rune restored a bit of Theresa's strength. Struggling to her feet, she found herself without a weapon—her staff had been corrupted and discarded, and her rune-pistols Blue Love were out of bullets. Even the ice sword she had summoned had been knocked away. Desperate, she instinctively used the only tactic left to her.
She reached out with her hands and scratched Tza-Zanek's face.
To her surprise, it worked. Her bare hand seemed to carry some kind of energy that Tza-Zanek found terrifying. Wherever her skin made contact with the champion, his flesh sizzled and steamed, as though it were burning from within. Tza-Zanek screamed, clawing at his own face with all four hands as blackened burns spread across his skin.
Seeing the effect, Theresa pushed her attack. She placed both hands on his neck and face!
"Ughhh! Aaahhh!! Aaaahh!!" Tza-Zanek howled like a wounded beast, frantically scratching at himself as he staggered backward.
Everyone witnessing the scene was stunned. No one could understand why Theresa had suddenly become so powerful. Only Aurora, knowing the truth, silently gritted her teeth in frustration.
It had to be Ryan's spirit rune. Veronica had one, and now Theresa did too! This power was especially potent against Chaos, allowing Veronica to navigate Tzeentch's labyrinths and now enabling Theresa to repel the champion of Tzeentch!
Damn it! That biased man! Why didn't he give me one of these? Aurora fumed. She had asked her wild son-in-law for one many times, but he always refused or dodged the request.
But there was no time to dwell on this. Aurora could see that Theresa's rune power was quickly fading. The light of the rune was weakening with each passing second, and Tza-Zanek's injuries were only superficial. There was no way Theresa could defeat him with just a bit of borrowed power. "Theresa, get back! Now!" she shouted.
Theresa wanted to press the attack and gouge out Tza-Zanek's eyes, but the rune's power was nearly spent, and its effect on Tza-Zanek was diminishing. Hearing her mother's warning, she gave up the assault and, taking advantage of Tza-Zanek's pain and distraction, sprinted into the teleportation circle.
"Go!" Aurora used the last of her
strength to activate the teleportation array. The remaining dozen Garland councilors and several dozen apprentices disappeared into the portal.
Tza-Zanek, still reeling from the burns, took a few seconds to regain his composure. His face and body bore several scars, but they were only flesh wounds. No serious harm had been done. Realizing the witches had escaped, Tza-Zanek shook his head. He wasn't particularly upset. The mission had been a near-total success, and this last-minute setback did not diminish his achievements. It was all part of the Great Plan, after all—Tzeentch's blessing and will.
Then, a rumbling sound echoed from outside. The ground shook, the mountains trembled, and the castle crumbled. Sensing something was wrong, Tza-Zanek grabbed his staff and sword and rushed outside.
What he saw filled him with fury.
Skykeep was destroyed! Half of the castle had fallen into an abyss, while the other half was on the verge of collapse. His Raven Guard had suffered over 60% casualties, and Tzeentch's army had lost more than 50%. Sassoriel the Eternal Watcher knelt weakly on the ground, its form growing transparent as its power faded. The Greater Daemon could not remain in the mortal world much longer. "Praise Tzeentch, mortal. Your plan has succeeded."
"No! This is not the success I wanted!" Tza-Zanek shouted as he approached the daemon. "Why has it come to this? What happened to my army?"
"That madwoman… Doomsday Judgment," Sassoriel muttered, shaking its head.
At the last moment, the Greater Daemon had used a twisted void spell to banish some of the meteors, saving itself and part of Tzeentch's army. But even so, over half of the cultists and demons had been obliterated by the spell, and half the castle had been leveled in an instant. The remaining half was on the verge of collapse.
"No! This is not what I wanted! This isn't Tzeentch's plan!" Tza-Zanek paced in frustration. He had planned to gather an army and march to Ostland in search of a Chaos artifact. But now, with his forces in ruins, how could he face the Empire's army?
Sassoriel's time was running out, and it spoke quickly. "Go north, to the Chaos Wastes. To the court of the Northern King. There, you will find a champion whose power is worthy of legend. He was born for vengeance, and his homeland, Dragonhold, was recently destroyed in Ostland's campaign. Tell him this news. He will gather an army that can overturn the entire Old World."
"A legendary champion? What is his name?" Tza-Zanek asked urgently.
"He is the King of the North, the Black Iron Ravager, the King of Norsca, the leader of the Army of Destruction, the Son of the Blood Red Sky, the unbeatable warrior who defeated the Bride of Khorne, and one watched by all four Chaos gods."
"His name is Black Iron Morkar!"
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