Blood and gore spilled throughout the tunnels, but none belonged to the Sanctis nor their Master, Bastion.
However, the daemons weren't fighting to win; this was a wave tactic. Bastion didn't need a miracle to tell him that these creatures were simply buying time.
While the massacre continued with neither side progressing, outside the tunnels, a large hovercraft landed as several squads of the Custodes Sanctis came forth.
The fighting had stopped. Corpses and organs littered the floor. Several squads could be seen with Meltas torching the remains to the best of their ability. What remained of the flesh tanks used by the cultists were burnt as well.
While they did that, the remaining Sanctis went around sanctifying the environment. Selene didn't want to take any chances, and thankfully, they had the walking purification machines known as the Sanctis.
Their gold and blue armor shone under the artificial lights of the mid-hive, and even from such a distance, she could feel the awe-inspiring aura that radiated from them whenever they used their powers.
The Mechanicus Skitarii legions could be seen almost everywhere with Meltas in hand.
The air was hot and filled with smoke, but these were all measures to be taken if they wanted to remove the presence of any form of Chaos in the area.
"Lady Selene, the Sanctification squad has been formed. The rest and I shall descend to assist His Eminence," Evangeline said as she approached.
Looking at the hulking figure of gold and blue, Selene merely nodded, knowing fully well that nothing she said would stop the Sanctis.
"Please do, but wouldn't it be better to wait for your Canoness?" Selene said.
"As first to the scene and one with more experience with the situation, the rank of Captain falls to me. I have arranged for the Sanctification team to act as emergency support should any be needed," Evangeline replied.
Her voice was calm as it had always been. Since there was nothing more, Selene merely nodded as Evangeline and her squad of 12 began their descent into the tunnels.
She couldn't tell what was going on in the tunnels; the sensors didn't reach there, and there weren't any there to begin with.
Meanwhile, within the tunnels, Bastion could be seen standing as he watched what looked like an impossible mix between a bear, a vulture, and probably a rabbit.
It had feathers everywhere and eyes on the feathers themselves. This creature stood as the last of the waves.
"What are you? Some experiment gone wrong, or are the Ruinous Powers desperate to see me dead?" Bastion asked as he further gripped his sword.
He could feel far more power from this creature than every other Greater Daemon he had vanquished. However, his heart remained stable, and his grip firm.
Yet, there was now a small regret. If he had known, he would have used the chance to get some armor before descending into the tunnels.
As of now, he was still in the fancy military uniform he wore. The medals were all lost, naturally, and there were splashes of blood here and there, but overall, the suit had held up.
"A soul lit as bright as a beacon but caged within its flesh, a presence that unmakes nature itself—you are the abomination here," the daemon said.
"You truly consider yourself natural?" Bastion chuckled.
This creature was literally leaking blood all over the place, with a stench that could easily kill a man and a height of over 8 feet tall, holding an axe that seemed to be made of hands—real human hands.
Even in his greatest imagination, there was nothing more unnatural than the thing before him.
"I am not here to trade words with minions like you. Arm up or die like the filth you are," Bastion said without hesitation as he raised his sword.
He had come to learn that within his presence, no matter how powerful the entity was, they had to default to physical attacks, which meant that his field nullified their ability to wield other powers.
"You shall not pass!" the daemon screamed as its axe came down.
Before it could even blink its many eyes, Bastion stood behind it. One stroke—clean, silent—and the daemon split down the center like parchment, its halves crumbling into dust and irrelevance.
"Who did he think he was? Gandalf?" Bastion muttered as he continued on his way.
"Wait, who's Gandalf?" Bastion asked himself as he stopped for a bit before marching on.
At this point, he was used to it. He would make a reference subconsciously, but he still wouldn't understand what or who the reference was referring to.
Whenever it happened, he just assumed it had something to do with his past life and moved on.
As he walked, he didn't encounter any more daemons, and soon he was in the Underhive.
The Underhive. In his opinion, it was a fancy name given to the large cavern that they were now in.
There were various pipes leading to the surface, but they weren't tunnels—they were waste pipes, and from what he could see, said waste was just dumped as they wished.
However, that wasn't his priority for now; it was the large tear before him, pulsing with wrongness and bright light.
Bastion was witnessing a thing that, in all actuality, was world-ending on its own.
It was the Rift.