To the onlooker, it was both mesmerizing and horrifying—a fight so close and vicious it blurred the liween bat and self-destruinutes passed, or perhaps turies. Their movements slowed as exhaustion seeped into their broken forms, but her stopped.

  “Enough!” Sanesh’s voice broke through the chaos. Her tone, onanding, now carried a desperate edge. “Kayvaan, stop! Please, I beg you. If we go on, we’ll both die. Why are you doing this? What has the False Emperor doo make you so insane?”

  Kayvaan didn’t answer. His as were meical, like a mae. He raised his arm and drove his cws intain. “Stop, please!” she screamed. “Why are you so stubborn? You’re human, Kayvaan! No matter what they turned you into, deep down, you’re just a man. You’re tired, aren’t you? Exhausted! Why not give in a?”

  He ignored her, lifting his arm with difficulty. The cws plunged into her once more. “Think about it,” she gasped. “Eternal happiness, even if false, would feel real. What’s more terrifying—being trapped in a dream you never wake from or living in a nightmare you ever escape?”

  Kayvaan struggled but forced his arm up again, his cws driving into her body. “Why do this to yourself? Reality is dark, bloody, and full of pain. You’ve seen it. You’ve lived it. Don’t you eace?”

  Again, he raised his arm, slower this time, and pierced her flesh. “You’re insane,” she whispered, her voice faltering. "I'm dead, and you 't live either. Your soul is on the brink of dissolving. So tell me—how you cim victory?"

  Across from him, she rose to her feet. The scars across her body were horrific, as if she'd been through a bleorn and mangled, yet, shogly, her wounds were healing at an unnatural speed.

  Kayvaan remained calm, unfazed by the grotesque sight. His voice was steady, resolute. "You don't uand. A daemon like you could never grasp the essence of aus Astartes. We give up everything—our ordinary lives, our forts—for one purpose: to protect humanity. Being Astartes is about dedication. It’s about sacrifiot gain or possession."

  She ughed, her smile twisted and eerie. "So you sacrificed yourself to take me down with you?" Her tone was mog. "And for what? So your pitiful apprentice i your broken body and yacy, only to keep serving your false Emperor?"

  His eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know about him?"

  She tilted her head, her grin widening as if sav some private joke. "Hahahaha! I told you, everything is goily as expected. No exceptions." Her tone greer, yet more amused. "Your poor little apprentice—he's not like you, is he? He’s just a regur human. Do you holy think he resist all those temptations? Money, indulgence, lust, power, vanity—all those sweet things mortals crave? He’ll crumble, Kayvaan. He’ll fall sooner or ter. Sure, you’ve won this battle. I’ll vanish with you. But the real game? It’s only just begun, and you won’t be around to see it."

  Kayvaan coughed, blood trig from his mouth, but his gaze remained unwavering. "I believe in him. He is my best apprentice. Fwed, yes, but kind. And as long as he holds onto that kindness, he’ll endure."

  Her expression twisted into something dark and angry, her voice rising in frustration. "And what did you get from all this, Kayvaan? Yes, you won—but at what cost? What do you have now? Nothing! You’re dying, just like me! Why do you humans g to these ideals, these pointless sacrifices, when you never get anything iurn?"

  Kayvaan chuckled faintly, his voice soft yet firm. "What have I gained? I’ve gaily what I always wanted. I know my p the universe. I am one of the Crows, a bat instructor, a soldier. And now, I’ve achieved the perfeding. Victory or death—that’s our creed. And now, I get both. For a Crow, what could be better than that?"

  Their forms began to fade, dissolving into the void. The woman turned her gaze to Joe, her demeanor strangely serene. She was Kayvaan’s adversary, an ination of the Chaos god Sanesh, yet in this moment, she seemed like something more. her regretful nry, she smiled as if she had simply been part of a game—a game that had reached its natural clusion. Winning or losing seemed irrelevant now.

  Her voice carried a ess that was almost serene. "Joe," she said, her smile unwavering. "I will remember you. Your face, your soul. One day, I’ll wait for you iemple of Joy. There, all your desires be fulfilled. Eternal happiness, Joe. It’s yours for the taking. Unlike your foolish mentor, I believe you’ll make the smart choice.

  "I could expin it all—how to see this cruel, ugly gaxy for what it really is. But joy is fleeting in a pce like this. So, I’ll leave you with a gift instead. The darkness will remain, even when I’m gone. Use its power. Don’t yourself to meaningless ideals. Nothing is more important than your oiness."

  With that, both Kayvaan and the daemon vaheir final words eg in the colpsing void. The dissolved into darkness.

  The sun shone warmly on Terra, casting a gentle glow across the silver-white pza. White doves soared overhead, their wings glinting in the light. Fountains sprayed arcs of water into the sky, droplets scattering like diamonds as they fell. Even the sound of water seemed joyful on this tranquil spring day.

  The Imperium had retly marked the dawn of the 41st millennium. A grand parade and ival had been held in the Imperial Pace district, filling the streets with cheers and hymns. Though the festivities had subsided, an air of revereill lingered.

  Nobles from across the gaxy had gathered for the event. Some stayed behind to cultivate es and secure their positions within the sprawling bureaucracy of the Administratum. Others, devout believers, visited the vast cathedrals to sing hymns and offer their prayers befolden reliquaries of the Emperor. But many nobles simply indulged, reveling in the rare opportunity to bask in the magnifice of Terra—the heart of the Imperium.

  Terra was not only the political and military ter of the gaxy but also its spiritual core. The Ecclesiarchy, seated here, stood as the highest religious authority in the Imperium. Though the Synod Ministra on Ophelia VII rivaled it in influence, turies of tradition ehat Terra was still regarded as the true heart of the Imperial Creed.

  After all, the Emperor Himself resided here on the Golden Throne. Pilgrims and nobles alike flocked to the t cathedrals and a mos, drawn by the weight of history and faith. For many, standing on this sacred ground was the pinnacle of a lifetime of devotion.

  Cathedrals rge enough for starships to pass through stood like mos to titanic gods, their colossal forms dwarfing everything around them. The intricate bas-reliefs and carvings ad their facades told stories of the Imperium’s tless victories and sacrifices. Above these majestic structures, spires pierced the heavens, adorned with sculptures of saints and heroes locked iernal triumph. Together, they painted a se of unmatched grandeur—a testament to humanity's resilien a gaxy of endless war.