Daemon Prince 34

Deep within the dungeons of the Inquisition Fortress lay forbidden objects that could not be allowed to enter the Imperium.

Inquisitors recovered these forbidden objects from countless worlds and stored them within the fortress under guard.

Only clergy most devoted to the Emperor were qualified to fulfill this duty.

Led by Eisenhorn, Guilliman entered the depths of the Inquisition Fortress.

The environment here was so cold it made one shiver. Strange whispers echoed through the air, and the sheer malice was so tangible that it made their skin prickle.

The corridor walls, ceilings, and marble floors were all covered in sacred prayers.

Shrines to the Emperor stood everywhere, with incense lamps burning on either side of winged silver skulls.

Exorcist Priests held censers as they continually recited hymns praising the Emperor within the dark dungeons.

Out of faith in the Emperor and love for humanity, these Chaplains of the Ecclesiarchy had resolutely chosen to sacrifice themselves. They studied the forbidden, dark lore of Chaos in search of ways to protect human souls, becoming wardens of forbidden objects and keeping these indescribable threats beyond human society.

Besides the Exorcist Priests, an Epiphany Bearer stood guard at every interval, holding a scepter and wearing a golden mask.

They were devout followers of the Emperor, capable of wielding His power against Daemons while protecting themselves from harm.

Their scepters could unleash force-field attacks and reinforce their convictions, keeping corruption at bay.

Led by Eisenhorn, Guilliman entered the depths of the dungeon.

"My lord, are we truly going to do this?" Eisenhorn was somewhat uneasy. Besides respect, there was now a trace of fear in his gaze toward the Primarch.

The other man's plan was utterly mad. No sane person would think to use Daemons to gather intelligence about the Warp.

Yet this Primarch not only had such an idea, but possessed the overwhelming resolve to put this mad plan into action.

During their discussion in the hall, the Lord of Ultramar had effortlessly persuaded Eisenhorn to help him carry out that insane plan.

"Those mad things are so vile and shameless that any conventional means we use against them will only embolden them, making them ever more reckless. Daemons have always preyed upon humanity. Every successful incursion brings unimaginable casualties, while all humanity can do is rely on the Grey Knights and the Inquisition to drive them away."

"Those Daemons are utterly unscrupulous. When they tempt mortals successfully, they reap vast quantities of flesh and souls. If they fail, they lose little. This must change, or humanity will never break free from the Warp's curse."

"Daemons fear death as well. That is precisely why they fear my father, because my father does not banish them. He truly kills them."

"This is a universe where the lowest depths decide everything, Eisenhorn. Only Guardians vile and shameless enough can protect their own species. We must tell the Daemons that harming humanity will no longer mean merely being banished back to the Warp. Humanity will retaliate. We will shatter their twisted essence and end them completely."

Eisenhorn understood full well just how mad and terrifying this plan was.

Once it was exposed to the public, even a Primarch would face endless suspicion.

The other man needed a safeguard, one that would preserve his vital strength and placate the people of the Imperium.

Eisenhorn was that safeguard.

Eisenhorn did not refuse such a naked plan, one that could betray him at any moment.

He had never been worthy of remembrance in the first place. The worst possible outcome would merely be even more miserable.

A traitor to the Imperium?

An enemy of humanity?

Eisenhorn no longer cared.

But if this plan succeeded, the benefits it brought humanity would be unimaginable.

Humanity would march into the Warp and forge an entirely new kind of confrontation with the Daemons.

Their footsteps echoed through the long corridors of the deep dungeon.

Servo-skulls, each bearing a candle, floated alongside them and provided illumination.

These candles were no ordinary objects. They had been made from fat extracted from the corpses of devout believers.

The light cast by these candles could help their users dispel illusions created by sealed objects and Daemons, weakening the influence those forbidden objects had over their wardens.

Daemons and sealed objects always liked to create illusions and whispers to deceive those whose wills were weak.

These candles were highly effective at preventing such things.

By the light of the candles, Guilliman examined the Inquisition's dungeon with great interest.

The wall niches held rows of small coffins.

Those coffins were forged from blessed Adamantium and pure gold, their surfaces etched with dense, intricate suppression runes.

Each set of runes differed, determined by the forbidden object contained within.

Further inside stood enormous bookshelves filled with books documenting ominous objects, along with volumes seized from Chaos Cultists.

Some of these books were written in Gothic, while others were written in Xenos languages.

The origins of these books were exceedingly complicated.

Some had even been written by ignorant people.

Until the very moment the Inquisition arrived, these people had not known what terrible things they had done.

They had become tools of the gods without realizing it, delighting in the belief that a burst of inspiration had allowed them to write masterpieces for the ages.

Their fates were equally tragic. They were executed without mercy.

Still more books came from the distant past, their origins unknown.

Parchment wrapped in flesh-covered bindings was stained with unclean blood.

The corruption contained within these books was utterly terrifying. Their words described incomprehensible, indescribable entities and runes.

Any mortal who came into contact with these books would immediately succumb to their irresistible corruption.

Following Eisenhorn's footsteps, Guilliman passed the bookshelves and entered the deepest part of the dungeon.

A transformed Daemonhost was bound here. Horns and a tail had grown from its body, while most of its fur had fallen out, leaving it nearly bald and hideously ugly.

Powerful Warp energy kept the Daemonhost suspended in midair.

Blessed chains and runes bound the Daemonhost, preventing it from breaking free and escaping.

Sensing Guilliman and Eisenhorn's arrival, the Daemonhost opened its eyes. Pure malice shone from its yellow pupils.

"Eisenhorn, you shameless deceiver. I thought you had died long ago." The Daemonhost stared at the white-haired Eisenhorn, its voice grim and filled with malice and fury. "I must say, you are the most skilled liar among all the humans I have met. You are more deceitful than a Daemon. I served you and saved you from peril more than once. All I sought was for you to honor our contract and free me. But what did you do? You toyed with me in the palm of your hand, imprisoned me in this cell, and exploited me time and time again."

"One day, I will escape. When that day comes, I will hunt your soul, Eisenhorn. You will be enslaved for eternity."

The Daemon's hatred for Eisenhorn was immense.

Even though Guilliman stood beside him, the Daemon simply ignored him.

Hearing this, Guilliman immediately imagined some melodramatic romance.

A pitiful little Daemon had been repeatedly toyed with by a heartless Inquisitor, only to be mercilessly imprisoned in a cell in the end.

"Inquisitor, that Daemon has been imprisoned by you for three years."

"Has he been purified?"

"No. He said he would return like a king and take revenge on you."

"Cherubael, every word you speak is a lie." Eisenhorn paid no attention to the Daemonhost's anger. His gaze was calm and cold.

"Heh heh, Eisenhorn, you know this place cannot imprison me forever. One day, I will escape."

The Daemon named Cherubael issued his threat through the Daemonhost.

Only after speaking did he notice another person standing beside Eisenhorn.

Upon seeing the man's face, Cherubael instinctively retreated several steps.

"Impossible! How can there be a son of the Anathema?"

Cherubael's voice was full of terror as he cried out.