This was the first full-scale war between the Inquisition and the Forces of Chaos since the Tribunal's rebirth.
"Our enemies are not mortals. To them, mercy is an illusion — self-deception their only companion. Ready your weapons, and in the name of the Inquisition, face them… and destroy them!
Respond to their blasphemy with our only duty: our lives exist to bring forth the purifying flame!
Take up your mauls and staves, your armor and psy-cannons — and march forward… unto death itself!"
BOOOOOM!!!
The Mechal Dragon plunged straight into the Plague Legion before it, and Duanmu Huai leapt down with a thunderous roar. Raising his warhammer high, he slammed it into the ground — and a burst of black flame erupted outward like a volcanic storm, consuming every Plague Warrior in its path.
Bodies spun through the air, twisting and shattering, their flesh burned away until only pale ash drifted down like volcanic snow.
Parting the swirling frost like a furious bull, Duanmu charged ahead — straight toward a Great Unclean One, a swollen monstrosity swinging a massive club. Its bloated belly split apart, revealing a second gaping mouth crawling with maggots, while clouds of green flies buzzed in fetid swarms around it. Its skin was a festering landscape of rot and filth, and simply standing there, it infected the very air with corruption.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
The Greater Daemon bellowed with laughter as Duanmu rushed forward, utterly unafraid. Raising its great club, it brought the weapon crashing down.
But Duanmu didn't dodge.
He met the blow head-on — his armored shoulder taking the impact like a living mountain — then swung his hammer in a blazing arc. The black wind howled, and the creature's grotesque head vanished from its shoulders. The black flames rushed into the daemon's massive body, burning it and the swarming flies alike into gray-white ash.
The surrounding plague warriors howled — not in fear, but in rage. For what Duanmu brought was the absolute, cold annihilation of all things — the direct antithesis of the loving, nurturing "Father of Plagues" they worshiped.
He extinguished the fire of life, silenced the song of decay, and brought everything into an eternal stillness from which nothing could awaken.
To them, this was the greatest blasphemy imaginable.
"Kill him!!"
The corrupted Chaos Warriors roared as they charged, joined by a tide of gibbering mutants — creatures no larger than dogs but numbering in the hundreds, screaming as they hurled themselves forward.
A moment later, invisible threads coalesced into a massive blade that swept across the battlefield, slicing every mutant apart in an instant.
Olgis sat calmly on Duanmu's shoulder, her left hand resting lightly on his armor while her right hand rose into the air. Under her command, the fine, unbreakable puppet-strings shaped themselves into weapons — enormous swords that could cleave through ranks, spears that pierced the hardest armor, and curved blades that shredded flesh and steel alike.
In Olgis's hands, the threads danced like woven silk, taking on endless forms — and under the blessing of the Black Flame, they delivered eternal, irreversible death.
Duanmu continued to advance.
This time, the ones blocking his way were the Chaos Warriors — hulking figures in black plate armor, wielding great axes. They were the "cleanest" of the Plague God's followers, at least outwardly, but Duanmu knew too well what festered beneath that polished steel.
"Compared to bad canned meat," he growled, "you're still not even close."
With every step, the ground shuddered beneath him. Each swing of his warhammer unleashed waves of psychic flame — and with a single crushing blow, dozens of Chaos Warriors were obliterated, their armor and bodies reduced to dust.
He didn't even pause. His gaze fixed forward — on his true targets.
"Filth of corruption — come and die!"
Before him stood three monstrous figures: a giant of flesh like a walking mountain of meat, and upon it, two hideous riders. The infamous Grot Brothers, the Plague God's favored champions.
"Arrogant fool!" shrieked the Plague Sorcerer, one of the brothers. "You dare insult our Father's glory? You will taste His love and learn His true power!"
Raising his staff, the sorcerer began chanting. But before his spell could form, Duanmu's jump pack roared to life — propelling him forward like a missile straight toward the trio.
The beastly youngest brother roared, its right arm transforming into a gaping, toothed maw like a nightmarish flower. It lunged to seize Duanmu — but he simply batted the monstrous hand aside with a brutal swing of his hammer.
At the same time, the eldest brother leapt from the beast's back, his obese body surprisingly nimble, a blood-red scythe slicing toward Duanmu — only to be intercepted midair by a cluster of blades formed from Olgis's threads.
Before the brothers could recover, Duanmu grabbed the middle brother — the sorcerer — by the head. The wretch screamed, releasing waves of plague energy that fizzled uselessly against Duanmu's black flames. With one hand, Duanmu lifted him high… then stuffed him into the beast's gaping mouth.
The creature's teeth clamped shut. Crunching and shrieks filled the air as the sorcerer was shredded into sludge.
Then, gripping one of the beast's jagged bone-spikes, Duanmu tore it free with brute force and drove it straight through the creature's eye and skull. Blood and brain matter exploded from the other side in a geyser of filth.
"Nooooo!!"
The eldest brother howled in fury, his siblings slaughtered before his eyes. Enraged, he vaulted high, swinging his scythe to strike Duanmu from behind—
—but he never saw Olgis's fingers twitch beneath her cloak.
A moment later, his body froze. Pain ripped through him, and he looked down to see his lower half lying several meters away.
Before he could even scream, Duanmu's armored boot came down — crushing his skull into pulp.
"Die."
The word was cold, final.
But even before the echoes faded, another presence streaked from the sky — a crimson figure wreathed in wrath and fire.
A towering woman clad in scarlet armor, with demonic wings and twisted horns. In one hand she held a shield made from a demon's skull; in the other, a gleaming spear.
The "Blood Valkyrie" Valkia the Bloody, the Bride of Khorne — champion of the Blood God — had arrived.
She dove down like a comet, spear aimed at Duanmu's heart.
But before she could strike, Olgis raised her hand again.
The threads surged, forming an immense spider's web of steel that enveloped the descending valkyrie midair, halting her charge.
"You dare—!" Valkia roared in fury.
Yet before she could tear free, Duanmu lunged upward, seizing both her arms like a vice. She struggled madly, muscles bulging, wings thrashing — but Duanmu's grip didn't so much as tremble.
"Let me go, you— You bastard! Die!!"
Her scream turned to a shriek of agony as Duanmu's arms flexed. His muscles bulged like iron cables—
—and both of Valkia's arms exploded in a shower of gore. Flesh, armor, and bone burst apart under his crushing strength.
The pain only fueled her fury; she lunged to bite him, fangs bared—
—but Duanmu didn't flinch.
Grabbing her by the torso, he pulled.
With a sound like tearing meat, the Blood Valkyrie was ripped clean in two. Her organs spilled out in a wet cascade, bones snapping as blood sprayed across the snow, painting the frozen ground crimson.
Duanmu hurled the torn halves of her body aside, then lifted his warhammer and glared at the stunned battlefield around him.
"WHO ELSE!?" he roared.
His voice thundered across the field like the wrath of a god.
(End of Chapter)