Possession

Few Aeldari were as pure as Drazhar, forgetting everything and knowing only the sharp spinning blades in his hands.

He was the personification of idealized violence, with no interest in torturing his opponents. He sought only a thrilling clash of blades, followed by a salute to a heap of dead flesh.

Many terrifying legends surrounded him: he had single-handedly slaughtered his way through the spire districts of an Imperial hive city, hanging the heads of nobles and their guards along the outer walls.

He had once faced three Adeptus Custodes alone. Though no one knew the final outcome, judging by Drazhar's sorrowful demeanor, the victory should have been his.

Perhaps Drazhar was Arhra, the Father of Scorpions, and Arhra was Drazhar.

Advancing enemies stood before him, while the Blood Relic watched from behind. Drazhar ignored Khorne's invitation and whispers in his mind and charged forward like a silent blade.

"I admire warriors."

Khorne spoke calmly. Though the current situation did not fit his ideal of a fair battle, Drazhar's persistence earned this warrior his full respect.

Jaghatai collided with Drazhar once more. The Khan's curved blade flashed swift and bright, while Drazhar's dark edge shifted unpredictably. Through their dance of blades, they had gradually come to understand one another's temperaments and begun learning new things from each other.

Watching Jaghatai's movements, Fulgrim felt that his cloned body was far too weak and slow. He also recalled the wretched sight of how easily his ascended self had wounded Roboute Guilliman.

"Jaghatai! Stop wasting time! Let's kill them directly!" Perturabo roared, raising an armor-piercing cannon and preparing to snipe Drazhar.

Rogal Dorn was like a wall, and like an unstoppable bulldozer. He and Fulgrim led the entire Legion toward Amalaga, who stood within the flesh.

The two shields that could be assembled