Second Chance.

[Okor]

The low hum of active power armour pervaded the air, worming its way through the bones, rattling the teeth. It was a comforting feeling, a strong reminder of the bonds of brotherhood that defined the Legions of the Great Crusade. A ceramtie gauntlet clasped Okor's arm, lifting him to his feet. He gazed up at his fellow marine, his eye dancing over the scintillating patterns of blue and gold, finally settling upon the scratched Legion badge on the pauldron. He moved the Legionnaire's arm away. "I can stand on my... own, Son of Magnus." Okor gasped, multilungs forcing air through an exhausted esophagus, phlegm, pus, and worse things. In any other being, it would have been the final death rattle. For him, it was a reminder to the galaxy at large that he was alive, and intended to keep it that way. As he rose, he looked around, scanning the other figures surrounding him. Standing on the outskirts was a Luna Wolf, strangely without the familiar colours of the black legion, or even the Sons of Horus. Curious. The Daemon stood in front of him, holding a small screen, projecting colours and motion, a stark contrast to its pitch-black motionless. His lone eye focused in on the lights flashing across its surface.

A blast of flame rolled across the screen, coalescing into two dueling figures, clashing with blades of fire, spraying sparks. A burst fell into the darkness, igniting a sea of Promethium. The camera zoomed across the seemingly infinite pool, racing the flames, blazing towards a pillar of bone. As the inferno climbed the pillar, forming itself into a screaming skull, it focused in on a trophy of gold, studded with a wide variety of gems. The skull reached the peak, swallowing the trophy, before all light fled, leaving a black, empty void. From nothing, came a title: Dante's Abyss: Are you strong enough to survive?

Okor grinned through broken, rotten teeth. Oh, it was so simple. Gladiatorial Combat, with the warriors stolen from worlds across the universe. That must be what the Daemon wished. Violence, Glory, Plunder. What else could he ask for? "I... see now. We were brought here, to fight. To kill. To... win. Where is this... contest, being held, Daemon?" He spoke, eager to see what sort of warriors could stand against him. Given what that whelp could inflict, he longed to test himself against greater warriors.