Fallen Sister

As the psyker spell was released, Sibyl's gaze pierced straight through the thick Ceramite door, directly witnessing the scene inside the Bridge.

She skipped over the meaningless blasphemous art decorations scattered across the space and walls, her attention immediately drawn to a ritual altar at the center of the Bridge.

That stone ritual altar was composed of ring after ring, six rings in total counting outward from the center, each ring bearing six stone pillars.

On all thirty-six pillars, a human was bound with thick iron chains.

They varied in height, build, age, and appearance, all with heads drooping, unconscious, their bodies carved with blood-red blasphemous marks.

Moreover, what made Sibyl's breath catch on the spot was that faint radiance emanated from around every bound person, indicating that each one of them was a Psyker.

"Damn it, this ritual must be stopped!"

A senior Heretic's rich experience immediately snapped Sibyl into action.

No extra time was needed to judge the ritual's content—if a Chaos ritual required the powerful souls of Psykers, it could only mean its destructive power was not to be underestimated, and immediate punishment was necessary!

Judging there was no time to notify her teammates, Sibyl acted directly. Invisible Psychic Power condensed in the air, slamming heavily toward the ritual altar!

Nothing happened.

"Blocked?!"

Sibyl's pupils contracted sharply.

The Chaos Lord standing above, looking down at the altar, wore a faint smile on his face. He suddenly turned his head, locking eyes with her gaze.

"Damn, too late!"

Sibyl's heart sank.

Just as she had anticipated, all the Psykers bound to the pillars let out agonizing screams at the same moment. Vast torrents of psychic energy surged from their bodies, and their souls were simultaneously torn away.

Following the ritual, thirty-six souls converged at the center of the altar, condensing into a single point, and violent white Psy-lightning began to lash out.

As a Psyker herself, Sibyl's keen intuition triggered auditory hallucinations. The Veil between reality and the Warp seemed to emit a "creaking, cracking" sound of shattering.

"Not good!"

With the ritual's success, the psychic energy erupted, and the Warp stirred into raging waves. Its influence continued to spread, even covering a vast area.

What was happening?

Even Rowan, who had no connection to the Warp and no Warp projection, sensed that the atmosphere in the air had subtly changed.

Some extremely active force lingered in the air. The temperature plummeted sharply, and faint ice crystals even formed on the ground beneath his feet.

"Ugh!"

A pained groan came from behind. Rowan spun around sharply to see the other three all collapsed to their knees, expressions twisted, clearly resisting something with their will.

Rowan immediately raised his hands, activating his Reality Warping Ability to envelop the three's consciousness, trying to ease their pain and strengthen their resistance.

"No good..."

But soon, he frowned and reached a conclusion.

The Reality Warping Ability could indeed alleviate their pain, but the Warp's influence continued unabated. This small Warp storm was still intensifying.

As long as he withdrew his power, they would have to keep resisting the Warp's waves. It was utterly futile—at the very least, they would have to wait until this small Warp storm subsided before they could move.

Briefly regaining clarity of will, Sibyl, relying on her firm resolve, lifted her head with difficulty. Her eyes were bloodshot as she mouthed a phrase to Rowan.

"Don't... bother..."

Understood.

Through the connection between the Reality Warper and the Converter, Rowan instantly read the thought in her mind.

Indeed, there were more pressing matters at hand.

With resolve made, he turned without hesitation, his gaze locking onto the Ceramite door. With a thought, his Reality Warping Ability annihilated a massive hole in it.

The Executioner Main Cannon beside him immediately tore off its optical camouflage disguise. Its tracks rolled as it accelerated to the door, its thick barrel extending straight through the hole.

The Machine Spirit began to pulse fervently, and a blinding, dazzling plasma energy gradually lit up.

"Leveling the Four Seas!"

This should be stable now.

Almost at the same time, the Chaos Lord naturally thought so.

After the violent psychic shock, the ritual altar had been violently blasted to pieces. Stone fragments and human flesh and blood mixed together, forming a heap of rubble.

And atop that rubble stood a monster with extremely bizarre limbs.

Her form was extremely tall, her body twisted and mutated, with four arms and crab-like pincers, holding four swords of different shapes, completely inhuman.

It was the Slaaneshi Daemon Prince, Miriael Sabathiel.

As the first Battle Sister to fall, the darling of Slaanesh, she had received abundant blessings from the Lord of Pleasure.

Thus, she was the ultimate predator in the entire galaxy. Nothing could stop her from offering her prey's souls to the Lord of Pleasure.

Under the shroud of her terrifyingly seductive aura, even a Champion with firm will, once they gazed directly at this monster, would have their soul severely corrupted, reduced to a drooling wreck.

The Chaos Lord's ritual was hardly a profound technique—it merely used a special method to blast a gap in the Veil between reality and the Warp.

At that moment, an entity from the domain of Slaanesh could answer the call, crossing through the gap into the material universe.

This method had a massive flaw: such beings might only last a few days before the gradually sealing Veil "starved" them to death in the real world, ultimately banishing them back to the Warp.

But in the Chaos Lord's eyes, that was more than enough.

Even if it truly were the Corpse Emperor's Living Saint, she could not defeat him!

Yet, just as he thought this—

A pitch-black cannon barrel pierced through the breach in the door, and the next second, a thick, blinding blue ion beam blasted straight in.

The Slaaneshi Daemon Prince, who had only just entered the material realm, had no expectation of a sudden ambush. It instinctively dodged to the side, but was still a hair too slow.

Ssshh—!

The searing blue light instantly engulfed half its body, vaporizing both arms into nothingness.

"AAAAAAAGH!"

Miriael clearly hadn't anticipated an attack of such devastating power.

The scorching plasma brought immense agony, forcing a shriek from its lips, but the sound soon twisted into a languid, seductive moan, as if it were savoring the lingering aftertaste of the pain.

The Executioner Main Cannon fired in rapid succession, volley after volley of plasma bolts streaking toward it.

The Daemon Prince did not hesitate. It leaped into an elegant, weightless dance, dodging in succession at a speed so swift even the Machine Spirit could not keep up.

Finally, seeming to tire of the game, it casually hurled the blade in its hand.

The sword transformed into a streak of flying light, moving so fast that even the air had no time to escape, compressing in layers against the edge of the weapon.

BOOM!

The blade struck the cannon barrel, instantly blasting it into a storm of flying fragments. The violent shockwave tore through the thick Ceramite door, which crashed down heavily, shattering into several pieces.

Light from outside streamed in, and Rowan, standing in that light, locked eyes with Miriael.