The footsteps grew louder as they neared, and to Ryan and Vulkan's horror, the room offered nowhere to hide!
The Hall of Daylight was too small—its entire area could be seen almost at a glance. Were it not for the bookshelves providing some cover, Ryan and Vulkan's only option might have been to draw their weapons and prepare to fight.
But neither Ryan nor Vulkan wanted to resort to violence. For Vulkan, it was his pursuit of perfection, and for Ryan, it was his desire not to damage relations with the elves or create complications for Lilith.
The two Primarchs exchanged a glance.
What now?
Two Phoenix Guards and a Phoenix Priest entered the room, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
One Phoenix Guard, clad in ceremonial armor and a flaming red cloak, carried his enchanted halberd in one hand. He glanced around, performing a routine inspection of the Hall of Daylight.
"Our mighty Phoenix Lord has shown us the prophecy: it was he who revealed the mural," the Phoenix Priest proclaimed. "Ryan-Macado, the chosen of fate. Finubar's decision was indeed the right one."
"…" The second Phoenix Guard remained silent.
"√" The first Phoenix Guard nodded in approval, but something quickly caught his attention. He knelt down, running his fingers over the ground. "!!!"
"???" The other guard stepped forward to take a look.
Footprints.
The guards pointed them out to the priest, eyes wide with shock.
"There are prints, but no taint," the Phoenix Priest remarked, skeptical. "No sign of corruption."
"×,≠," the guards silently protested.
"No taint, and no trace of Chaos," the priest reiterated, urging the guards to remain calm. He stepped outside to summon reinforcements.
With that, the two Phoenix Guards began examining the Hall of Daylight, moving systematically from corner to corner.
The room itself was only around 500 square meters, with nothing unusual aside from the countless shelves packed with scrolls, jars, and ancient tomes.
Yet, due to the room's sacred nature, the guards did not conduct an overly thorough search. Only Captain Kadroin had unrestricted access to examine the room's contents.
"←"
"→"
As they moved between shelves, the guards found no notable irregularities. Enveloped in the shadows, they moved with the silence of the ages, embodying centuries of service in honor of Asuryan.
Each guard lived under the vow of silence—a life dedicated solely to service, until death or honor claimed him. By now, he wasn't sure he could still feel any spark of emotion.
Centuries had passed like this.
Serenity and duty, till the day he would find rest.
Yes, it was as if these statues of Phoenix Guards in front of him exemplified that duty. Lost in thought, the guard gazed at the row of wax statues made by the Phoenix Priests from sacred oils. Each was meticulously crafted, starting from a clay sculpture to lifelike finish—symbols of Asuryan's power and the honor of the Phoenix Guards, each one lifelike and unchanging, despite the centuries.
These statues look so real, the guard mused. Dressed in real armor, they could almost be flesh and blood. Their eyes, hair, brows—every detail was spot-on.
Wait, is that real hair? The guard's eyes lingered on a particularly striking figure with black hair and another with golden locks.
The realism was uncanny.
Just then, another guard approached, signaling for him to move on. "√?"
"." The guard shook his head. "√!"
Moments later, two more Phoenix Priests arrived, conducting another inspection.
"No blemish."
"No sign of Chaos taint."
"No obvious footprint patterns."
At last, the three Phoenix Priests finished their review, officially declaring, "Inspection complete."
As representatives of Asuryan's will, the priests' declaration satisfied the guards, who swiftly exited the Hall, leaving peace and quiet once more.
Today, it seemed, had been another calm day on the Isle of Flames.
———
The dead of night during the Witching Hour saw a fierce battle raging at the Hoeth Tower in the kingdom of Saphery.
Arrayed in precise formations atop the fortress walls, Saphery's elite armies fought to protect Hoeth Tower. Lines of spearmen and archers lined the walls, with senior mages unleashing spells that turned the sky into a swirl of color. These venerated mages, revered for dedicating their lives to magic, were now making good on that promise.
Three hundred Swordmasters of Hoeth whirled into action, their greatswords flashing through the dark and stormy battlefield, cutting down any demons that crossed their path. Each swing of their sword left bright arcs slicing through the darkness and rain, shredding the fiends to pieces. Thousands of arrows rained down upon the demonic army, piercing their ranks, only for the creatures to reform and surge forward anew.
Amidst these defenders stood Teclis, High Loremaster of the White Tower, chanting an incantation of unprecedented might. His spell broke through the Chaos-tainted night, a brilliant dome of fire stretching hundreds of meters in diameter, forcing the demons to retreat, many of them falling as smoldering remains.
Were the elves powerful?
Indeed, the defenders of Saphery's army stood undefeated, quelling every demonic wave.
And yet Teclis knew all too well the true danger.
The Slaaneshi forces called out, shrieking and laughing, as they pounded against the high elves' defensive lines. Clad in vibrant garb and contorted in dance, the demonettes threw themselves at the elven spearmen, their twisted forms and razor-sharp crab claws tearing through flesh. Their chariots of blades plowed through the ranks, stripping flesh from bone, and leaving severed limbs in their wake.
Behind this twisted horde stood their leader, the Keeper of Secrets, Charyas Bladedancer. Five meters tall, clad only in a cloak and loincloth, Charyas's body was a marvel of twisted perfection—his six bared breasts and four powerful arms were adorned in scented oils made from mortal blood and powdered bone. In one clawed hand, he wielded the Blade of Slaanesh, glowing with chaotic runes; in the other, his fingers dripped with a sinister poison, sharp and glistening.
Charyas—the Bladedancer, one of the Dark Prince's most beloved generals. His soft purple skin was wrapped in the scent of decay and he moved with a dancer's grace, as if every step were an intricate part of a larger, sinister performance.
On the battlefield, he commanded his Slaaneshi forces with precision, ordering them into an unyielding assault on Hoeth Tower. But his own interest lay elsewhere. He was waiting.
"Hmmm… such a sweet taste!" Charyas's split tongue flicked over a soul crystal, savoring the taste of a freshly-captured elven soul.
The battle raged on as the storm grew. Mud and blood churned together, yet the high elves' defensive lines held, inflicting a steady toll upon the demonic forces. Thousands of Slaaneshi fiends had been banished back to the Warp.
But for every demon felled, countless more surged forward to take their place. And every elven soul lost meant another feast for Slaanesh.
Just then, Charyas's nostrils flared as he caught a new scent carried by the storm. The Dark Prince's whispered instructions rang in his ears.
"A fragrant, rare soul! Oh, what a treat for the Prince of Pleasure!" Charyas shrieked ecstatically, turning his attention toward a modest structure at the edge of the battlefield—a structure glowing faintly with godly power.
The Tower of the Moon, temple to the elven goddess Lilith.
Standing atop the fortress wall, Teclis's expression shifted as he realized the Keeper of Secrets's intentions.
The goddess Lilith was currently within the Moon Tower!
The entire space had been decorated with elements for Lilith's wedding to Ryan. This was to be the ceremony's location, and after so many delays, the goddess had vowed she would not leave the temple again, even if it meant risking her life.
What now? he thought. Should we abandon the walls to charge?
But abandoning their defensive position for an uncertain gamble would leave Hoeth Tower exposed to a full demonic assault.
Before Teclis could decide, Charyas and his horde of Slaaneshi demons were already nearing the Moon Tower. The Keeper of Secrets began whispering, drawing upon his Prince's power. Waves of distortion pulsed forward, weaving into the godly barrier surrounding the temple.
The barrier around the Moon Tower began to waver, shimmering under the strain.
Delighted by this effect, Charyas launched another wave of demonettes at the barrier.
Inside the tower, Lilith stood alone in her temple, the wedding scene set around her, a resplendent gown of radiant white hanging nearby. She heard the distant, haunting shrieks and the crash of demonic forces against her holy barrier.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" Cracks formed along the barrier, and Lilith braced herself for battle, her hands already weaving divine magic.
"Just a little more—oh, such a delicious, noble soul! All mine!" Charyas shrieked ecstatically. The moment a gap opened in the shield, he and his horde would flood in.
Just a bit more… blinding light!
A burst of brilliant, searing light erupted across the battlefield, piercing the storm. Slaaneshi demons shrieked, clutching their eyes in agony. It was not merely light—it was a blazing Warp-infused aura, filled with order and stability, forcing Charyas and his horde to recoil in pain.
Out of the gleaming radiance, a figure emerged, dragging a massive hammer along the rain-soaked earth, its weight leaving deep grooves in the mud. With every step, the rain itself seemed to ignite in arcs of blue lightning that danced around him. White-gold flames flickered across his form, casting a blazing aura that made the surrounding demons hiss and shrink back.
"Once, you protected me," he called out, his voice reverberating with power as he met Lilith's gaze.
"And now, it is my turn to protect you."
"My lady!"
As he stepped forward, Ryan's hammer struck the ground with a resounding thud, lightning crackling around him as he brandished it with both hands. His presence was like an anchor of calm amidst the chaos of the battlefield, his white-gold aura clashing violently with the surrounding shadows.
Lilith's eyes shone as she looked upon her champion, her chosen—the one she had empowered, shaped, and relied upon more than any other. And now, here he was, before her, ready to shield her against the very forces of Chaos itself.
With a bellow of defiance, Ryan surged forward, his hammer sending ripples of power through the ground as he swung it with deadly precision, cutting down scores of demonic entities that dared approach him. Each strike seemed to resonate with a primal force, driving back the waves of Slaaneshi demons.
Seeing Ryan, Charyas snarled, his six glittering eyes narrowing as he raised his silvered blade and waved his claws, eager for the clash. Behind him, the horde of Slaaneshi demons gathered their courage, rallying behind the towering demon as it prepared to confront this new threat.
"A noble, pure soul in such a tempting shell!" Charyas hissed, his twisted voice carrying a deadly allure. "One I shall gladly offer to the Dark Prince!"
Ryan met Charyas's gaze, unyielding, his hammer crackling with raw power.
"Come if you dare," he challenged. "But know that only one of us will leave this field of battle today."
The two figures collided in a flash of silver and lightning, the sheer force of their clash echoing across the battlefield.
_________________________
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