Valenia charged toward the Greater Daemon.
The Keeper of Secrets lashed out with its massive arm, its ritual blade thrusting toward her with a speed that defied the eye. Valenia didn't flinch. A cross hanging upon her breast erupted with holy light, parrying the strike for her. Her sacred blade burned at its zenith, golden flames enveloping the steel, causing even the Keeper of Secrets to recoil from the searing heat.
Grasping the sword with both hands, she lunged with all her might. The tip pierced the center of the daemon's palm, pinning its arm to the floor. Golden fire surged from the wound, scorching its very essence. The Keeper of Secrets let out a howl of agony that shook the entire dining hall, the sound so piercing it caused eardrums to bleed.
"Now!" Valenia roared.
The priests and sisters joined their voices in an exorcism chant. Golden light converged from all directions, enveloping the Greater Daemon. The radiance struck like a thousand heavy fists, slamming into its form and forcing it back into the rift. The tear in reality began to contract. Inch by inch, the Keeper of Secrets was squeezed back into the Warp.
It struggled and roared, using the three arms still within the Warp to madly lash out at everything nearby. But the golden light grew heavier, making its resistance futile. At the very instant before it was fully banished, its lone protruding arm made a final sweep. The ritual blade grazed Valenia's gauntlet. The wound was shallow, barely drawing blood, but Valenia's expression changed instantly.
It was the venom of Slaanesh. It was coursing through her body and soul at a terrifying speed. She could feel the toxin flowing through her veins, spreading through her nerves, and whispering seductions in the depths of her consciousness.
"Give up," a voice echoed in her mind. "You have done enough. Now, enjoy yourself."
She closed her eyes. Valenia offered one final prayer to the Emperor. There was no plea for rescue, only gratitude. She thanked the Emperor for gifting her faith and strength, and for granting her the chance to die in His service. She opened her eyes, and the golden radiance exploded within them.
Golden fire ignited in her eyes. It incinerated her flesh and her soul, consuming the Slaaneshi poison that sought to corrupt her. Amidst the flames, she fell to her knees. She maintained her posture of prayer, hands clasped and head slightly bowed. The fire swallowed her robes, her body, and her everything. But that posture never wavered.
Until she turned to ash.
After the fire died down, only a scorched weapon remained where Valenia had stood. It was thrust into the ground, blackened and riddled with cracks. The crossguard was deformed and the hilt charred, but one could still tell: it was a sword.
The moment the Keeper of Secrets was banished back to the Warp, a sigh of relief echoed through the dining hall. Fanatics collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The Battle Sisters lowered their weapons momentarily, leaning on one another for support. The priests' hymns were no longer at their peak, and acolytes wiped sweat from their brows.
Raynor also breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against a wall, slowly standing up, his eyes searching the crowd for a familiar silhouette. Isud—no, Sarah. He saw her; the blonde figure stood behind a group of sisters, looking his way. In those eyes, he first saw Isud's habitual indifference, but upon seeing Raynor, it softened into the care he recognized as Sarah's.
He smiled knowingly and was about to step toward her when a sudden burst of blue light exploded in the center of the hall.
It was a woman. She wore tattered blue robes and a metal half-mask that revealed a face as pale as parchment. Raynor recognized her—the third major player in this drama, the Tzeentchian sorcerer. She had vanished earlier, only to reappear now.
"Everything... is according to plan." She thrust a staff into the ground. The staff was a deep azure, with a constantly spinning eyeball embedded at its top.
"Do you believe in change?" the Chaos Sorcerer began to mutter to herself. The eyeball darted about before spinning faster and faster, causing the surrounding space to churn with it.
"I truly admire the first person who ever worshipped the Lord of Change."
"Perhaps I'll turn into a Chaos Spawn?"
She released her grip, and the staff stood upright on its own. "Father, once I have pleased Him, I will make sure you see the rise of Saint Gallus! Humanity is destined to succumb to the Warp!"
As the energy accumulated around the eyeball reached its peak, it finally erupted.
"I'll say it one last time. Time... is about to accelerate!"
Vroooom—!
A blue shockwave rippled out from the top of the staff, instantly covering the entire dining hall. Raynor felt a strange force sweep through his body. It wasn't a direct psychic impact or a physical explosion. It was something more indescribable—as if time itself had suddenly sped up.
He looked down at his hands. Skin was shriveling, veins were bulging, and age spots were emerging. He was aging. He was growing old at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Screams erupted all around him. The fanatics, the priests, the Battle Sisters, even the Slaaneshi cultists—everyone was experiencing the same thing. Their lives were being fast-forwarded. Some collapsed immediately—not dead, but too weak to stand. Raynor's knees grew soft, the wall he leaned against seemed to drift away, and his consciousness blurred.
"Sarah..." he whispered in his heart.
"I am here."
As the shockwave took effect, the sorcerer laughed aloud. "Hahaha! You were so naive! Did you really think it ended like that?"
She spread her arms as if embracing a coming massacre. "Those Slaaneshi failures only understand pleasure and seduction. They will never understand that true victory requires patience, calculation, and..."
She looked in Raynor's direction. "...Change!"
As her voice fell, the space behind her began to warp and shatter. A rift opened, and violet-blue light poured out. A chariot flew through—a Burning Chariot, the most common vanguard vehicle of Tzeentch. The chariot was pulled by Screamers and consisted of a Disc of Tzeentch.
Standing atop the chariot was a chanting Horror. It was pink, possessed six eyes, and wore a golden bird-beak mask. It was muttering something in a high-pitched, thin voice. The moment the Horror appeared, the surrounding air began to vibrate. It was psychic resonance, amplifying in intensity.
Behind the chariot, the rift slowly widened. A dozen massive monsters charged out. They were three to four meters tall, their bodies composed of twisted flesh, tentacles, and eyeballs. Strong arms and deformed legs emitted a nauseating stench of rot. They had no faces, only writhing lumps of meat upon which grew a dozen eyes of varying sizes.
Chaos Spawn. Abominations created by the distortion and corruption of humans by Chaos energy. They possessed no humanity and no reason—only the instinct to kill. The moment they appeared, they charged madly toward the Ecclesiarchy's line.