Minotaurs Chapter
Just as the skulls of the Habsburg Earl father and son were embedded in the profaned throne, and the fall of the Hive Seven seemed inevitable.
The vanguard of the demonic wave crashed into an invisible wall.
This "wall" rises at the boundary between the noble quarter and the outer defenses of the palace.
It has no physical form, yet it is stronger than any alloy wall—it is the most instinctive repulsion and suppression of the Warp by the Realspace.
Walking at the forefront of this "wall" were a group of figures clad in jet-black armor, resembling moving tombstones.
The Sisters of Silence.
Their appearance came without horns or battle cries, only a deathly silence that froze the soul.
These most mysterious warriors under the Emperor's command are all Untouchables—a special human variant that has no soul projection in the Warp.
For demons that depend on Warp energy for their existence, they are walking poison.
They are the Psyker; the core strength of the Sisters of Silence lies in their innate ability to counter Psionic Energy.
They lack a soul connection and leave no projection of themselves in the Warp.
Their mere presence is enough to cause pain and unease to Psyker and disrupt the Warp around them.
Even now, they still adhere to the silent oath made by the Emperor.
They adhere to the "Silent Vow," remaining silent for life to ensure the secret is never revealed.
They communicate using sign language, symbols, and communication devices.
At this moment, silent instructions flowed among them, and they quickly formed tactical formations.
Leading the way were high-ranking members known as the "Knight of Oblivion".
They can train themselves to control their untouchable talents, releasing them only when necessary. And now, that is the time.
The lead Knight of Oblivion raised his hand and made a gesture of advancing forward.
In an instant, the "Null Field" centered on them was actively activated and expanded.
Strange changes occurred wherever the force field passed:
The flames on the giant sword in the hands of the Khorne Bloodletter quickly dimmed and went out, as if extinguished by cold water.
The twisted sorcery that Horror of Tzeentch was weaving was crumbling into meaningless, colorful ashes in mid-air.
The pus continuously oozing from Plaguebearer's body seemed to evaporate rapidly upon encountering high temperatures, emitting painful sizzling sounds.
Even the largest Slaanesh Keeper of Secrets of Secrets lost its alluring halo, revealing its pale and twisted true form.
For the first time, the demons felt... weakness. The connection between the Warp and the Realspace was drastically weakened, and the energy sustaining their existence was being rapidly drained away. The Bloodthirster roared furiously, but this time, a hint of surprise, which shouldn't have been there, was mixed in with the roar.
II. Imperial Fists
Just as the Sisters of Silence used their invisible Null Field to choke the demon, a golden torrent swept out from behind them.
Adeptus Custodes.
The exact number of Terra Adeptus Custodes at the end of M41 is a top Imperium secret and is not recorded in publicly available documents.
However, based on its duties—to protect only the palace and the Emperor himself—it can be inferred that its size was far smaller than any Space Marine Chapter, possibly numbering only a few thousand.
However, each of these "thousands" is a perfect warrior, personally crafted by the Emperor and honed over a thousand years.
Their numbers were never the key factor; their very existence was a symbol of absolute power.
Because they are the most perfect human warriors created by the Emperor of Mankind. (The Primarch cannot be considered human; the Adeptus Custodes are the true heroes.)
At this moment, there were several hundred Adeptus Custodes on the battlefield.
They were clad in dazzling "Adeptus Custodes Armor," a technological marvel from the Emperor era whose sophistication and power far surpassed any Power Armour of later generations.
They were silent, efficient, and synchronized, like a manifestation of a sophisticated killing machine.
Trajann, Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, walked in the center of the formation.
He wasn't wearing a helmet, and his face, as resolute as a rock sculpture, showed no emotion whatsoever; only his eyes burned with a cold, golden flame.
His gaze swept across the chaotic battlefield, locking onto the red-armored giant— Khorne's champion—who was directing the demons' advance, along with several Greater Daemon that were faintly visible beside him.
"For the Emperor."
Trajann's voice, though not loud, clearly pierced through the battlefield's clamor, reaching the ears of every Adeptus Custodes. "Purify the filth, as before."
His thoughts instantly drifted back ten thousand years.
In the final moments of the Horus Heresy, the doors to the throne room of the palace were breached, and demons poured into the Emperor's sacred sanctuary.
It was they— the Adeptus Custodes of that time—who built the last line of defense with their loyalty and blood, fighting the demons before the throne until the Emperor and Horus engaged in that Destiny duel.
That was the duty etched deep in the genes and memories of every member of the Adeptus Custodes: to slay all that profaned the throne.
The strength of the Adeptus Custodes was beyond doubt; with only a few thousand men, they managed to stop the demons pouring down from the royal road.
Even that rabble wasn't enough to injure them, so much so that in the end, the valiant Adeptus Custodes died of exhaustion on the royal road.
Today is nothing more than history repeating itself.
The battlefield, however, expanded from the entrance to the throne room to the entirety of Terra.
The Adeptus Custodes formation began to move.
Under the cover of the Sisters of Silence' Force Field, they need not worry about the demons' eerie witchcraft and Psionic Energy attacks. This allows them to unleash their full potential:
The Adeptus Custodes in the first rank raised their Guardian Spear Bolter, unleashing a barrage of precise and deadly bullets.
Each bomb is blessed with Psionic Energy and physically modified, giving it a special effect against demonic entities.
The Bloodletter's armor was torn to shreds, Plague Zombie was blasted into rotting chunks of flesh.
The second rank, wielding Guardian Spear and Power Glaive, advanced with steps as steady as mountains.
The spear thrusts, the halberd slashes—the movements are so concise and without a single superfluous element.
When the demon's claws and weapons clashed with the Adeptus Custodes guards' golden armor, they often left only shallow marks. Every counterattack by the Adeptus Custodes was inevitably accompanied by the breaking of the demon's limbs or the shattering of its core.
Trajann himself wielded his Castellan Axe —an ancient divine weapon passed down for millennia.
He did not charge directly at the red-armored giant, but instead cut into the weakest point of the demon's line like a scalpel.
With a slash of the halberd, a Flamer of Tzeentch attempting a sneak attack from the side was cleaved in two from head to toe, turning to ashes with a shriek.
He calculated every step, every strike aimed at maximizing the weakening of the enemy and creating the best conditions for the final showdown with the enemy leader.