Evan's voice rang down from the sky. Before the blazing sun could descend, it transformed in midair into a palm wreathed in flames.
Then...
Had you ever heard of a palm technique that descended from the heavens?
No?
That was fine. I didn't know one either. I only knew this.
Smack!
A resounding slap, its echoes lingering, knocked the Tzeentch daemon out of Vlorus's inner lake.
Outside, in the real world.
Evan raced through the flesh construct on his brand-new Grav-free Jetbike, with several White Scars warriors following behind.
With the shield made from a Sister of Silence's bones on his back, blasphemous flesh melted and retreated wherever he went, refusing to heal for a long time. A long cylindrical passage formed in his wake.
Fighting his way through, Evan reached Ashlan, who had requested support.
Two hideously grimacing possessed were fighting the Primaris warriors under cover provided by a squad of Chaos rabble.
Ashlan swung his warblades, locked in combat with an enemy. Countless tentacles had sprouted from this possessed's body, their tips covered in tiny, razor-sharp spines capable of piercing power armour.
Facing such a dangerous opponent, Ashlan spun his twin swords into an impenetrable defense, while the purpose of his third power sword became apparent.
A ring clasp sprang from his power pack and caught the power sword's tassel. With a deft application of force, Ashlan kept the entire warblade spinning around the clasp.
Whenever Ashlan ducked, what he exposed was not a vulnerable spot, but a warblade thirsting for enemy blood.
With that, even Ashlan's back had no weakness.
Even an enemy capable of attacking from multiple directions struggled to gain an advantage over Ashlan in close combat.
The possessed repeatedly tried to create distance, waving its blasphemous tentacles into profane configurations to cast sorcery in