The standoff was intense. The daemon's warp aura throbbed like a dark sun, suffocating the air and bending the light around it. The very fabric of reality seemed to scream in protest at its presence. This was no lesser fiend—it was a powerful daemon psyker, likely a Great Daemon or Daemon Prince, favored of a Chaos God.
"You are indeed an abomination," the daemon finally spoke, its voice slithering like oil through broken stone. "The sight of you offends me more than these zealot wretches."
Its many eyes narrowed in disdain as it addressed Atrius.
Atrius said nothing. There was no honor in communing with such profane filth. Silence was the only answer it deserved.
"Go!" Atrius roared, and in that instant, the Sisters of Silence burst into motion.
The sisters formed into a disciplined phalanx, dispersing to form a containment perimeter. Atrius lunged at the daemon, spear slashing in a blur of golden arcs. The daemon twisted back with unnatural grace, barely avoiding the strike. Its leering eyes scanned the battlefield with malevolent cunning.
"Quick to violence, I see," it hissed. "Not a good trait for making acquaintances." It chuckled—low and serpentine—as it parried another strike and countered with a brutal fist. Atrius blocked, the impact cracking the air like thunder.
btzzzz...ccrrck
Despite its monstrous size, the daemon fought with eerie precision. Every movement was calculated, its claws striking with the confidence of a seasoned killer.
The Sisters took positions around the jagged crystalline terrain, their presence alone gnawing at the daemon's essence. The leader stood on a ridge of quartzine glass, observing. She knew better than to interfere directly—Atrius needed space to maneuver, and proximity to the Sisters would serve as a slow venom to their enemy.
The duel intensified. Blow after blow clashed with titanic force—over a hundred strikes exchanged in moments.
BOOOM!
*KRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!*
Finally, Atrius landed a jab, the tip of his spear driving deep into the daemon's side. Its bone-plated hide cracked as foul ichor erupted. The daemon shrieked, a sound like burning metal and tormented souls.
Atrius followed up with a hammering punch—BANG!—flinging the daemon dozens of meters through the air.
it landed on the ground causing it to quake.
Before it could recover, the Sisters aimed and unleashed a barrage of fire.
BANG! BANG!_ BANG!_ BANG!_ BANG!_
The daemon staggered, roaring in fury, shielding its malformed head. The wounds began to seal almost instantly, its vile flesh stitching itself back together.
Atrius raised a fist—an unspoken order. The Sisters ceased fire in perfect unison, their discipline absolute.
The daemon lowered its arms cautiously, scanning for another assault.
Then came the gesture.
All the Sisters raised their hands in perfect synchronicity, forming a silent sigil—arcane in form, deadly in effect.
AAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHH!
The daemon reeled back, clutching its eyes. The sign burned into its mind like a supernova. Even to a warp-born monstrosity, the psychic null of the Sisters was torment beyond endurance. Their silence was not absence—it was anti-presence, and to a psyker, it was agony.
" Disgusting abominations, ill kill you all!" it yelled wrathfully; from its voice it could be confirmed to be in great pains.
Atrius saw his moment.
He shot forward like a golden thunderbolt; spear aimed for the daemon's vitals.
ZRAKK!
But just as the weapon struck, the daemon was no longer there.
It vanished—folded into the shadows, as though it had merged with the darkness itself.
The Sisters instinctively circled, weapons at the ready. Their leader descended from her perch and joined the formation. They listened, waited. this foul creature was cunning and might attack from the shadows.
Atrius closed his eyes, focusing—trying to sense the residual stink of the warp.
"Looking for me...?" the daemon's voice slithered through the air. "Hmm... hmm... hmm..." it cackled darkly.
It echoed from every direction, but from no source.
"You thought I would fight like the blood-maddened beasts of Khorne?" it sneered. "You insult me."
Its laugh erupted—sharp and jagged.
"My master has plans... great ones. I wasn't sent to kill... merely to stall."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Its laughter grew louder, fouler, rippling across the reality like cracks in a mirror. Atrius calmly listened, tightening his grip on the spear. He could feel the daemon slipping away, its essence dispersing into the folds of the immaterium.
For a heartbeat, silence returned. The fight had ended—not in victory, but in unfinished business.
Atrius stepped forward and drove his spear into the ground, its glowing bladed tip burned with great energy as the blood of the daemon burned. a hiss sounded as its smoke wafted off.
"We move," he said coldly.
The Sisters reformed around him without a word. Though the daemon had fled, its lingering stench fouled the air. They had delayed it, but at what cost? The enemy had gained time—perhaps that had always been the true goal.
" kree....kree....kree....kree,where do you think you're going?. We just got here". a dark and feminine voice tore through the silence.
the sisters and Atrius immediately became alert, their hearts leaped to their chests as they tried looking for the location the voice came from