Through light, lightning, and fire, a human knight tore a path through the Slaaneshi ranks step by step, approaching the greater daemon.
With winds howling down from the Anuli Mountains and the torrents of the Arcane Nightstorm overhead, Ryan advanced without a single raindrop touching him. The Primarch of the Grey Knights pressed on, surrounded by flames and thunder, toward Charyas the Blade Dancer.
Charyas shrieked, savoring every pungent breath of that acrid smell (if a demon like it even had lungs). It was a nauseating stench, as repugnant to the Slaaneshi daemon as the innards of Nurgle's creatures in their foul garden. Yet it laughed raucously, both amused and thrilled by the unexpected development and the worthy opponent before it. Extending a long tongue, it hissed with a voice that clawed at the air like nails on glass, "While your smell is revolting, your appearance does look… somewhat acceptable. Would you, human, consider becoming a prized possession of the Prince of Excess? Your skin could make a lovely cloak, and your remains, a rich perfume to sweeten the Halls of Eternal Pleasure…"
"You're going back to the Chaos Realm soon enough, daemon!" Ryan lifted the Thunder Hammer in his hand and delivered a crushing blow.
Charyas laughed almost uncontrollably; such a bulky weapon could never hope to hit someone as agile as the Blade Dancer! Raising its silver sword, it struck back fiercely.
The very next moment, Ryan's hammer struck Charyas square in the face. The force of the impact shattered the demon's forehead, leaving its face and flesh in ruins. Unable to control its body, Charyas toppled to the ground, rolling several times before regaining some balance. "Wh...what?"
Amidst the torrential downpour, Ryan glowed with a radiant aura as he launched a second, horizontal strike. Just as Charyas attempted to dodge, it was paralyzed by a terrifying realization: the warp was distorting around it! Under the overwhelming psychic force, its face was helplessly drawn towards the hammer's head.
The Thunder Hammer collided with the demon's skull once more, creating an impact that reverberated like a mountain splitting. The greater daemon crumpled.
Before it could react, Ryan delivered a third strike, his Thunder Hammer descending with a flash of flame and crackling lightning. Charyas knew it could not evade in time, so it crossed its silver sword in front of it, clawed pincers adding strength as it barely managed to deflect Ryan's hammer, forcing the Primarch to step back.
As they parted, Charyas's face was a gruesome ruin, purple blood streaming down as its twisted skin swelled grotesquely from the hammer's blow. It had lost five teeth, and saliva dripped in thick streams from its forked tongue as it screeched, "Delightful! Delightful! Absolutely delightful! All of you, away! I want this human for myself!"
Purple mist clashed against white-gold flames as a fierce duel erupted before the Tower of the Moon.
Ryan and Charyas's clash gave Lilith the opportunity she needed; chanting a spell, she fortified the divine barrier around her, shrouding the Tower of the Moon in dense fog: "Far and Near, united as one!"
The Slaaneshi demons discovered they could no longer approach the tower; no matter how close they came, the barrier pushed them farther away. Unlike the bloodthirsty demons of Khorne, the Slaaneshi creatures, fearing for their own lives, soon grew wary, unnerved by the duel between Ryan and their greater daemon. While they delighted in the feeling of defeat, they had no desire for senseless death.
At the top of the Tower of Hoeth, Belannar watched the flares of lightning and purple mist in the distance and called out to Teclis through the storm, "What's our next move?"
"The daemon army has lost its commander! We're moving out at once to protect Lilith and the Tower of the Moon!" Teclis ordered without hesitation.
"A matchless warrior!" Belannar intoned as he unleashed a massive area spell, the Light of Banishment, casting a resplendent glow across the battlefield. With Ryan and the Slaaneshi daemon locked in battle, he signaled the army to charge.
Even the finest swordsmanship of Hoeth's Blademasters could not compare to Charyas's speed and skill, let alone match its razor-sharp claws and four pincer-laden arms. With each passing second, the daemon launched a dozen strikes, each one aimed at Ryan's vital points.
But Ryan, the Grey Knight Primarch, was at the height of his power. A psychic shield surrounded him, protecting his body and allowing him to face off against a Greater Daemon of Chaos. His mastery of the fire of his wrath had reached an exalted level.
In the whirlwind of the storm, Ryan's silhouette grew hazier, like a lone fish amidst the sea, standing resilient under the frost-draped sky. His Thunder Hammer deflected each blow from the Slaaneshi daemon, hammer and silver sword clashing in a flurry that defied the naked eye's ability to follow.
"Praise the Dark Prince!" Charyas let out a keening wail, its face drenched in rain as it unleashed a spell of seduction upon Ryan.
At this close range, the spell had never once failed; two purple beams targeted Ryan directly. If he hesitated even a fraction of a second, Charyas would kill him on the spot.
But Ryan remained unaffected. The beams had no hold over him.
"Mirror of Consequence!" Psychic energy pulsed outward, forming three psychic mirrors around Ryan. The purple beams ricocheted back at the daemon, and in an instant, Charyas's shoulder exploded, one of its pincer arms blasted clean off!
The pain sent Charyas into a frenzy of rage. Ryan charged forward, driving his hammer into Charyas's stomach, bursting one of its twisted, bulbous growths on impact. The furious Grey Knight Primarch followed up with relentless strikes. A knight's duty was to protect, and Ryan would not allow the daemon to wreak havoc in the mortal world.
Yet Slaanesh's sadism exceeded Ryan's imagination. Each wound he inflicted only served to bring the daemon new sensations, awakening euphoric delight that lent it untold strength.
As the Chaotic winds swept across the kingdom of Safri, Ryan's form glimmered in the storm. His hammer crushed the daemon's defenses, but just as he thought victory was near, Slaanesh empowered Charyas with a renewed vigor. Its severed limb regrew, now scaled in purple, ending in a triple-pronged claw that lashed down at Ryan's head.
A shrill sound rang out as the claw struck Ryan's psychic shield, nearly knocking him off balance.
Ryan retaliated, a shimmering psychic blade extending from his wrist. With a swift slash, he sliced through the daemon's warped muscle, forcing Charyas into a frenzied howl. His pure psychic energy seared the daemon's flesh like boiling oil, the excruciating pain finally reaching a threshold even Slaaneshi tolerance couldn't withstand.
"Ryan Macado, the Chaos Gods have marked you. Endless daemonic legions shall ensure you suffer eternally!" Charyas spat as it backed away.
Ryan merely grinned, even more aggressive than before. His strength surged as he advanced through the storm, his limbs a blur, forcing the speed and skillful daemon back with every step.
Darkness, wrought by the Arcane Nightstorm, was torn asunder as the clash between Ryan and Charyas reached a fever pitch.
In the vast darkness of a distant future, there was only war!
The daemon thrived on twisted fears and desires, but from Ryan, it sensed neither. Blade and hammer met in ceaseless exchanges, their clashing forces illuminating the battlefield.
"Slaanesh, accept my offering!"
In the void, the face of the Dark Prince emerged, its features perfect yet grotesque. It opened a mouth large enough to swallow dozens of demons, releasing barbed chains toward Ryan.
"Shift!"
Ryan teleported just as the spell nearly bound him, letting the barbed chains ensnare a nearby Slaaneshi demon instead. It screamed in despair as it was dragged into Slaanesh's palace to meet a fate worse than death.
"Mirror of Consequence!" Psychic energy rebounded, blowing apart the daemon's chest. In an instant, Ryan appeared before Charyas, Thunder Hammer crushing bone and flesh with unyielding force.
"Die!" The daemon swiped with its claws, tearing at Ryan's armor and gripping his wrist. Ryan recoiled as Charyas clawed viciously at him, hurling him into a nearby mud pit.
Charyas gave no respite, racing forward, its dozens of purple clones forming around it and converging upon Ryan with a violent spell of illusion.
Ryan's instincts honed in on the real Charyas. He blocked the daemon's sword strike with his own blade, Vengeance, and pummeled its deformed face.
Through sheer determination, Ryan severed the three arms clutching Vengeance with his psychic blade. Then, stomping on Charyas's chest with full force, he broke several ribs. The daemon tried to cry out, but he drove his sword down, piercing its throat.
"Remember who killed you, O Keeper of Secrets," Ryan said coldly, plunging his blade into the daemon's chest.
Grasping the black heart from within Charyas's chest cavity, Ryan tore it from the daemon—crushing the foul, black heart of Charyas, spilling dark, corrupted blood between his fingers as the greater daemon's body contorted and convulsed. Ryan felt the daemon's lifeforce struggle in his grasp, the final tendrils of Slaanesh's twisted power clawing at reality as Charyas fought desperately to remain.
"No… no! I just wanted to be your friend!" Charyas choked out, eyes wild with desperation. "We're friends, aren't we?"
Ryan's hand tightened, his expression steely and unrelenting. With a quick, decisive squeeze, he crushed the heart entirely, and with it, the last traces of Charyas's existence in the mortal realm. The sickly purple mist around him began to dissipate, and Ryan held the mangled remnants aloft as a testament to his victory.
"By the Lady of the Lake's will," he declared, "Charyas the Blade Dancer has fallen by my hand, Ryan Macado!"
The sound of cheers erupted from the battlefield as the High Elven armies, seeing the death of the greater daemon, broke into triumphant shouts. "For Ulthuan! For Asuryan! For Hoeth!" they cried, galvanized by their hard-won victory.
On the horizon, Prince Tyrion arrived, leading his reinforcements with his mighty forces behind him, only to witness Ryan at the center of a celebration, surrounded by triumphant elves, petals, and thunderous applause.
Ryan basked in the moment, receiving their gratitude with quiet humility, while Tyrion, still atop his steed, scowled with a barely concealed bitterness.
"Ryan Macado… he must have done this on purpose!"
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