The Might of an Alpha-level Psyker

At this moment, inside the emergency escape passage, a clatter of hurried footsteps rang out.

Chaos Lord Malven, clad in master-crafted Power Armor, was moving swiftly through it.

He was not acting alone; six Chaos Astartes in Terminator Armor, his personal guard, followed closely, ensuring his safety.

Having crawled through the galaxy for centuries, Malven was no fool who would stay put to watch the battle.

Even if choosing to stay and fight could indeed help Miriael considerably—perhaps even turning the tide together, drastically increasing their odds of victory and defeating the enemy—

It sounded wonderful.

But there was one small problem.

Namely... it brought him no benefit whatsoever, only extreme danger, the kind where he might die if he let his guard down.

Malven would never do something so stupid.

Surely no one truly believed that reliable bonds of camaraderie existed within the ranks of Chaos?

Let alone that he and Miriael merely had a standard contract; earlier, Malven had even withheld information, deliberately luring her here.

What if Miriael took her anger out on him afterward?

Better to just hide, find a safe spot, and wait for the fight to end.

If the Lord of Pleasure blessed him, the outcome would be the False Emperor's faithful and Miriael mutually crippling each other, or even dying together—that would be ideal.

But things didn't go as smoothly as Malven had imagined.

Suddenly, the Chaos Lord halted, stopping in his tracks.

The six Terminator guards immediately stopped as well, turning their gazes to him, awaiting orders.

"A Warp fluctuation?"

Malven, himself a Psyker, furrowed his brow. Purple psychic light flared in his eyes as he began to sense with full force.

Soon, he detected a Warp Rift slowly opening behind them in the passage.

"Ha!"

The Chaos Lord sneered inwardly:

Daring to use Warp teleportation right in front of a master Psyker?

How has such a foolish Psyker survived this long?

Malven raised his psychic staff without hesitation and slammed it heavily against the ground. An invisible wave of psychic energy surged forth, forming an enormous, intangible hand that blasted toward the rift.

Under such interference, the target's landing point would be drastically skewed, teleporting them straight into the adjacent Ceramite wall.

Wait... what?

Malven was stunned.

The psychic rift seemed completely unaffected, slowly opening as a flash of teleportation lightning flickered, illuminating the dim passage entirely.

When the lightning faded, a young woman in a military greatcoat, wielding a Force Sword, stood in place.

It was Inquisitor Sibyl!

The moment her figure appeared, the six Chaos Terminators did not hesitate, immediately raising their weapons.

"BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!!!"

Heavy Bolters and Assault Cannons roared, spitting fire as a fierce storm of shells rained down, engulfing her form entirely.

But such ferocious firepower proved futile.

A solid psychic barrier formed before Sibyl, shielding her securely.

Countless bolts embedded deep into the shield, while Sibyl herself remained unharmed, calm and composed, showing no sign of fatigue.

"Stop!"

Malven called off the clearly useless attack, his expression grim as he stared at Sibyl.

Facing this uninvited guest, whose psychic power was unfathomable and whose intent was clearly hostile, Malven knew the chance of avoiding a fight was slim, but he still made a final attempt.

"...Can we reach a settlement?"

The Chaos Lord had lost all his former arrogance, carefully choosing his words. "As I see it, there is indeed ample enmity between our two sides, but right now, your pursuit of me is meaningless."

Malven continued, his tone soft yet firm, "Your comrade is locked in a bitter struggle, and while I admit there is a gap between us in psychic power, if you hope to finish me quickly and then go support them, that is far too unrealistic."

"Why not let me leave, and you go aid your comrade to face the true enemy together? That is the correct choice, don't you think?"

Ignoring the heretic's honeyed words, Sibyl silently raised her Force Sword.

By all logic, the heretic's words were not wrong.

As an Inquisitor of the Imperium, Sibyl had originally thought the same.

If the four of them joined forces, even at the cost of some sacrifice, they might just banish that Slaaneshi Daemon Prince.

After all, sacrifice was the foundation of the Imperium, and life was the Emperor's currency. As long as the mission was accomplished, human life would never weigh on an Imperial commander's mind.

Even setting that aside, if banishing a Greater Daemon of Slaanesh at this level meant her own death as an Inquisitor, it would still be a worthwhile trade for the Imperium.

But just before the battle began, when she made that decision, Rowan stopped her and gave a very strange order.

Rowan commanded her to kill this fleeing Chaos Lord Malven with all possible speed, promising that victory would come naturally once she completed this task.

So, despite some doubts in her heart, Sibyl would absolutely obey his command.

"Thought is heresy, heresy is punishment."

Sibyl calmly recited the famous verse from the Codex Imperialis, brilliant blue light blazing in her eyes, surging Psy-lightning coiling around her body.

This stance made the Chaos Lord realize that any hope of peace was shattered.

"Fine! I hope you won't regret this!"

Veins bulged one by one on Malven's face as he erupted with psychic power at full force. A gale of sorcery from the Empyrean howled through the narrow passage, potent enough to corrode bone and strip flesh.

At the same time, all the Chaos Terminators drew their Power Swords from their waists and charged in long strides toward Sibyl!

Faced with such a dangerous situation, Sibyl merely held her breath, focused her mind, and took a deep inhale.

Every sanctioned Psyker of the Imperium must undergo extremely rigorous training, never channeling more than a fraction of their psychic potential, no matter how strong, to minimize the risk of losing control.

Since becoming an Inquisitorial acolyte, Sibyl had never once unleashed her psychic power without any restraint like this.

What would have been a suicidal act in the past had become entirely feasible after becoming the assistant of that Reality Warper named Rowan.

Forgetting all the ingrained habits and techniques that had sunk into her bones, like a true Alpha-level Psyker, Sibyl's long hair whipped wildly as layers of dazzling psychic bleed-off began radiating outward from her body.

She opened her mouth and roared:

"Slay them! Slay them! Slay them!"

The voice carried vast psychic energy, forming a wave of power in the air like a world-ending flood, crushing the six charging Terminators into a slurry of steel and flesh in an instant, as if they were mere insects.

"How is this possible!"

Under Malven's horrified gaze, his proud sorcery vanished like a joke into that psychic tidal wave.

And he himself, caught by the torrent that was delayed by only a fraction, was turned into the same mixture as the Terminator veterans before him.

The blue psychic impact did not diminish, tearing through the entire passage and effortlessly shattering the door at its end, a barrier strong enough to withstand a Venomblade tank's bombardment.