A Light Not Extinguished

Chapter 29: Warbringers

"Take half of the Shimmerdust from the reserves, one-tenth of the halyxite and as much crllyvalone as you need for the two hundred and fifty-fourth variation of kalimodreas. After brewing, immediately distribute it to the deepest levels of Commorragh. Once the Zhar Magul have finished gorging, give them this message: Venture out and kill every human and their machines, and I will give them as much kalimodreas in return."
-Shaimesh, Lord of Poisons, issuing new distribution orders for the potent psychoactive drug kalimodreas, M24. 314.

M24. 314.

Helek'na'kas

Lukaen raised his arms and caught the falling sword between the flat of his palms, before throwing it to the left. The blade came to a stop, before reorienting itself and hurtling at him again. A fist wreathed in a power field came down and shattered it into gleaming shards.

The Blank leaped towards the figure on the throne, arm already drawn back to deliver a punch powerful enough to dent battleship hull. Then raw telekinetic force slammed into him, arresting his momentum and sending him a few steps back.

"So you're the one." The figure on the throne said. "You truly are as disgusting as they come."

Enemy psychic signature detected. The sensors in Lukaen's body told him. Warning: Alpha-Plus psyker. Planetary-class threat.

Lukaen would have smiled if he still had a mouth. "That's what they all say before I kill them." The Blank rolled his shoulders, and waves of psychic blankness pulsed from him, enough to force any Beta-grade psyker comatose- and yet the being on the throne was unmoved. "But you're not like them, are you?"

"There are none like me." The warrior proclaimed. She stood up and descended the throne, a massive sword strapped to the back. "I am Qa'leh, Mistress of Blades, foremost among the Dark Muses. I would know the name of the one that stands before me."

"Lukaen Emrys. Human."

"Human?" The Aeldari tsked. "Nothing about you is human. You are a curse of the ancient dead, born to haunt the living."

"I assure you, underneath this carapace is a being of flesh." The cyborg retorted. "It was an easy price to pay." The two of them slowly circled each other, sizing each other up. "Tell me, who sent you to try and end me?"

The ground cracked under Qa'leh's feet, eldritch light glowing from the chasms. "I serve no one. You are here, only because I deem it that it be so. You will struggle, and you will fight, because it amuses me. Then you shall die."

"What a coincidence." Lukaen chuckled. "I was thinking the exact same thing. If you are the paragon of your race that you claim to be..." Lukaen took a step forward, and the Warp stilled as his Null aura manifested itself in its fullest. "Enough empty promises. Show me the delights that I was promised this war would bring! Show me that you are strong."

"Gladly." The Mistress of Blades bared her teeth as the visor of her helmet slammed down. "To the death, then." Two curved blades flashed into existence in her grip, and she flashed forward in a storm of lightning.

Blade clashed against gauntlet as Qa'leh struck first, Lukaen catching the flat of one blade on his right arm while slapping away the other one with the left of his palm. The Blank followed up with a headbutt, his forehead slamming against Qa'leh's helm and sending her backwards, as he sprinted forward-

A thunderbolt from the sky drove his face down into the dirt, and he twisted instinctively, barely enough to dodge the plunging stab that Qa'leh had aimed at him with an ornate greatsword. The cyborg rolled to his feet, before unleashing a barrage of punches that were all turned aside with a sequence of masterful parries.