Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Seraphea's desperation only deepened. "Please," she whispered, her voice quaking. "Who are you? Why would you do this?"

The witch stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. She didn't answer immediately, letting her aura expand. The room darkened as the sheer weight of her being pressed down upon Seraphea. The air grew heavy with dread, the very essence of the Warp seeping into the chamber.

Seraphea shrank back, trembling as realization dawned. She curled into herself, her voice barely a whisper. "You… you're a messenger of Hell."

The red-haired witch laughed coldly. "A messenger? No. I am far more than that. You should feel honored, little ghost. You're standing in the presence of one of Slaanesh's chosen."

Seraphea could only whimper as the witch extended a hand toward the core, her smile widening. As her hand approached, the sphere rapidly shrank, transforming into a bead no larger than a marble. She casually tossed it into her cleavage, patting her chest with satisfaction. "There we go," she sighed in relief. "Safe and sound."

Moments later, an unnatural wind surged through the sealed chamber—not real air, but a manifestation of countless gathered souls. Their howls sounded like a mournful symphony, the room thick with their spectral presence. To an ordinary person, the sight alone would have been enough to induce panic or unconsciousness. But to the red-haired witch, these souls were nothing more than delectable treats. She chuckled darkly. "Trying to scare me? How amusing."

Reaching up, she flicked the drop-shaped red gemstone dangling from her left earring. The gem began to emit a crimson light, pulsing with a magnetic force that drew the spirits irresistibly toward it. Within moments, the room was silent, the souls now trapped within the eerie jewel. "Quite the haul," she muttered, inspecting her prize. Her lips curled into a smile. "Now that business is taken care of, let's see who dared disrupt my plans."

Channeling her psychic energy, she activated the rune array etched into the air. A single step transported her to the remnants of a shattered altar, where chaos unfolded. Her loyal servant, Rosina, was locked in a frenzied assault against a black-haired man. "You bastard! Do you even realize what you've done? You've ruined everything!" Rosina screamed, her voice raw with rage. Her executioner's blade sliced through the air in a deadly arc, each swing aimed to carve the man into pieces. But her efforts were in vain. 

The man moved like a shadow, his steps precise and fluid. When Rosina swung her massive blade—a weapon reminiscent of a monstrous katana—he dodged effortlessly. The blade was deadly, yes, but its size and weight made it predictable. Rosina's fury clouded her judgment, and the man took full advantage, weaving through her attacks like a dancer in a deadly waltz. No matter how wild her strikes became, he remained untouched, his movements a masterful blend of agility and calm.

Frustrated, Syladria readied her twin mirror blades to join the fray. Before she could leap forward, however, the red-haired witch materialized inside the tent with a burst of psychic energy. "Rosina, my dear, calm yourself," she said, her tone light yet commanding. "Nothing has been ruined, I assure you. What you're so worried about won't happen. My mission is complete."

Rosina froze mid-strike, her blade trembling in her grasp. She lowered it reluctantly, stepping aside with a bowed head. The witch let out an exaggerated sigh, glancing around the ruined altar. "The only disappointment is that my army didn't make it through the gate. Such a waste. The spectacle could have been so much grander." Her eyes flicked to the man. "Still, it seems this little human boy did his job well. A shame, really—he's handsome enough, but what an idiot. Tell me, boy, what gives you the nerve to interfere with my plans?"

Kayvaan, staggered back a few steps, his body taut with exhaustion. He had pushed himself to his limit. On any other day, he could've riddled this fallen Eldar with a dozen or more holes. But now, all he could do was keep his distance, dodging her relentless attacks while maintaining a semblance of composure. After all, everyone in this tent was dangerous. Rosina, as a fallen Eldar, was an obvious enemy. But the other Eldar under Syladria weren't allies either, especially after the destruction of the demon altar. The two groups might not even need an excuse to turn on each other.

If he had the chance, Kayvaan would've bolted from this place immediately. Behind him, Elizabeth and her loyal retinue of battle-hardened nuns awaited, and further out, a garrison of defenders stood ready. Fighting here was madness. He'd much rather regroup, have a decent meal, get some rest, and settle things later—preferably with better odds. But, as luck would have it, another obstacle had appeared: an unbelievably sinister red-haired woman. She didn't look friendly. Judging by her aura, she had to be a daemon.

'Seriously?' Kayvaan groaned internally. First I collapse the altar, then I try to catch my breath, and now this? A literal demon waltzes in the second the door opens? Perfect.' If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have wasted time panting—he'd have smashed the altar with his bare fists. But regrets wouldn't save him now. His priority was survival.

"What's the matter, kid?" the red-haired witch asked with a sly smile. "Not happy I called you that? Or maybe it's the 'little' part that bothers you?" Kayvaan almost laughed out loud. Was this demon seriously teasing him? He decided to save his breath and ignore her. 

While Kayvaan stayed quiet, Syladria didn't. Her cold, disapproving voice cut through the tense air. "So, you're working with a daemon? A succubus, no less. Tell me, Rosina, is she your mistress?"

Rosina didn't respond, but her silence said enough. The witch, however, was quick to jump in. Feigning indignation, she said, "Now, now, that's not very fair. Personally, I'd love to have someone as exceptional as Rosina under my command. Truth be told, I've had my eye on her for quite some time. But no, she's not my servant. Not yet, anyway." The witch's smile turned mischievous as she added, "Strictly speaking, we're just collaborators. Partners in a little… arrangement. A fascinating deal, if I may say so. Would you like to know more, Syladria?"

"That's enough," Rosina interrupted sharply. "You've gotten what you wanted. The deal's done. Now leave before you cause more trouble."

The witch tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh? Don't want your little 'friend' here to know the details? Tsk, tsk, Rosina. So noble in your sacrifice, yet so ruthless in your methods. Such a fascinating contradiction—how do the extremes coexist in you, I wonder?"

"Enough!" Rosina snapped, her voice laced with warning. "I mean it. Don't push me."

The witch's grin widened. "Or what? You'll 'fall out' with me? How dramatic." She glanced at the nearby Eldar rangers, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, I see. You're worried about them, aren't you? If they knew the truth, things would get… complicated. Very well. Let me make it simple for you." Before anyone could react, the witch vanished. Or so it seemed.