The fight between the plague marine and the scrawny weakling dragged on, and Galel watched with fascination as the seemingly insignificant opponent put up such a struggle against the plague marine. It reminded him of a battle long ago...
Four Thousand Years Ago...
Galel withdrew his Force Sword from the youth's gullet, using his foot to push the hive ganger away from himself. The body slumped to the ground, and Galel grinned with sadistic pleasure. The rest of the world was dulled as only the death he had just dealt mattered. For a moment, all that existed was triumph over a weakling, the power of change. Then the world came rushing back. The clang of bullets bouncing off of Ceramite and Adamantium filled the alleys of the Underhive as more Hive Gangers fired their pathetic weaponry at the Sorcerer. "Alkanesh D'aggtha Bri'ole." Galel muttered, the daemonic syllables causing his nose to begin bleeding. Warp Energy bled through into the Materium, forcing rifts and fissures to form in midair. The howling of the Daemonic hosts of Tzeentch could be heard from within, and gnarled pink claws grasped the edges, eager to force their way through to the material world. "Soon, my brethren in change. Soon."
The Hivers screamed as two among their number clutched at their heads, scratching at the incomprehensible whispers that pounded within their heads. Galel laughed, extending his hand and concentrating. Bolts of lightning leaped from his fingertips, caressing the bodies of four Hive Gangers and causing their eyes and blood vessels to rupture. blood oozed from their pores and their now empty eye sockets as the Sorcerer advanced upon the remnants of the gang. "Rejoice, for you are part of the catalyst of change. Your deaths will bring about the warping of this world, and the beginning of the Iridescent Crusade!" He shouted, sweeping his blade in an arc to decapitate the only remaining hive ganger. "Nagnaresh Vi'ral! Change is near! Let all who resist its coming be cast down and reborn as mewling spawn!"
One Day later...
Hive Viktus had fallen, consumed by a storm of warp energy and hordes of gibbering daemonspawn. The few human survivors were driven mad, and forced into the worship of Tzeentch. The warp gate that had opened within the heart of the hive was widening with every passing hour, allowing ever larger and more powerful hordes of daemons to pour through into the Materium. Hive Gorn had gone silent only an hour ago, and only Hive Kesh seemed to be left standing. The planetary defence forces were struggling to repel hordes of daemons and renegades, and without their orbital support, they were losing ground. Above the planet, four Imperial Light Cruisers were fighting tirelessly against a fleet of Renegade Escorts. Though the cruisers outmatched the escorts in firepower and durability, there seemed to be no end to the Renegades, who emerged from the Warp every hour.
Galel himself had relocated to Hive Kesh, concealing himself from the defences with his Psychic might. Soon, he would arrive at the command centre for the Planetary Defence Forces. Once he crippled their leadership, they would be defeated utterly. Only one more kilometre to go. He thought to himself, walking up the long stairs to another plaza. As he reached the top, he paused, frowning. Something is wr- a punishing force knocked him off balance, interrupting his thoughts and forcing him to shield himself. "I thought I'd never be challenged here. Who are you who resists the will of fate?" He shouted, regaining his composure and scanning the plaza for any sign of life. His psychic senses detected nothing, forcing him to conclude that some automated system had detected him. Had he faltered in his concentration, or had the Imperium somehow developed a technological countermeasure to psychic stealth?
Again, his thoughts were interrupted by a punishing bolt of energy. This time, he was prepared, his psychic shield absorbing the blast almost completely. Galel spurred himself onward, rushing towards cover. "Come out and fight me, loyalist scum!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs as he drew his plasma pistol. Wherever this assailant was hiding, he would find him and drag him out. Galel thought, and then grinned. He focused his power, conjuring an image of himself. The image flickered, then solidified and began to run to cover elsewhere. When he reached his destination unharmed, Galel grinned. The Sorcerer stepped out of cover, surveying the area. Where was this assailant? Quickly, he was answered by a bolt of las-fire hitting him square in the chest. Galel grunted in frustration, bolting to cover once more. Why did this foe shoot him but not the exact duplicate he had conjured? Could he see Galel behind cover?
The sorcerer turned, scanning the area behind him for surveillance devices. None that he could see, even with his enhanced senses and his Power-Armours auto-senses. One more, Galel came out from behind cover, scowling and bellowing a challenge. "Shoot me, I dare you, coward! Your lasgun cannot penetrate Cerami-" He was cut off again as a bolt of las-fire hit him square in the chest, the force of it causing him to stumble. There. He thought, pointing his plasma pistol as a small balcony on the other side of the Plaza. With a squeeze of the trigger, a bolt of searing energy barrelled out of the weapon and sped across the plaza in an instant. Though it did not hit the assailant, it did strike the balcony with explosive force. Support beams melted and ferrocrete burned, crumbling away and falling four stories to the plaza floor, carrying the assailant with it. With a satisfying crunch, the rubble hit the ground. Galel grinned. "So much for your emperor's protection." He muttered, turning to continue his journey to the command centre.
As he began to ascend another flight of stairs, a bolt of las-fire hit his back, causing sparks to fly as the power source's vents were warped by heat. Galel spun around in fury, hurling bolts of lightning out at the pile of rubble. "Insolent wretch!" He bellowed, charging forward. As the dust that the lightning had kicked up settled, another bolt of las-fire came from his assailant, clipping Galel's Pauldron. Were it anywhere else, it might have thrown him off balance, but the assailant had hit one of the most protected parts of his body, and he barrelled forward. The assailant, dressed in a black bodyglove, leaped out of the Sorcerer's path, discarding his long-las sniper rifle and drawing a curved blade. With the press of a button, a power field enveloped the blade, allowing it to cut even Ceramite with ease.
"A Vindicare Assassin. How touching that the Imperium sends a blank to deal with me." Galel spoke, drawing his Force Sword. This is bad. He thought. Fighting a Blank, his psychic powers would be nullified and useless, greatly reducing his effectiveness. I'll have to draw upon my skills as a soldier... good. He grinned, charging forward, trickles of Psychic energy dancing along his Force Sword. Were it not for the Blank's anti-psychic presence, the blade would be alive with crackling energy right now. As it was, it should have had sufficient energy within it to resist the Power Field of the Assassin's blade. The assassin met him in direct combat, his curved blade dancing along like a Daemonette. Galel could not help but be impressed, his own skill and speed being the only thing saving him from having the blade bite deep into his armour.
The two exchanged a heated flurry of blows, the Assassin seemingly gaining the upper hand. Galel stumbled, the Assassin leaped forward, thrusting his blade towards the Sorcerer's chest. Galel grasped the Assassin's arm, and even as the blade dug into his armour, he prevented it from digging into his flesh. With the assassin in his grasp, the rest was easy. A massive gauntleted fist came crashing down into the Assassin's head, knocking him over and stunning him. Galel rolled over on top of the Assassin, discarding his weapons and grasping the Assassin's head with both hands. "POP GOES THE LOYALIST!" He shouted, shoving his thumbs into the Assassin's eyes. The goggles he wore provided momentary protection, before they cracked and shattered under the strength of the Astartes. For a brief moment, the Assassin screamed in agony, before his skull was crushed by the Sorcerer's strength. blood and grey matter were barely contained by the mask covering the Assassin's face. Galel stood, flicking his hand to get most of the blood off of his gauntlet. He wiped the rest on the Assassin's arm, then grabbed his weapons and turned to leave. "I hate blanks." He muttered to himself as he once more set off for the command centre.
Now...
Galel chuckled quietly to himself. Such battles, where one could show the weak and misguided their place, they were the most satisfying to win. He imagined that is what the Plague Marine thought right now, as he watched the scrawny one lie on the ground, seemingly defeated. Holstering his Plasma Pistol, Galel began to walk towards the Plague Marine.
