At that moment, the Sisters of Battle emerged from their positions behind the bolter turrets. pristine white power armor adorned with purity seals, the Sisters moved with purpose, their leader at the forefront. She wore a blood-red cloak that billowed behind her as she marched, her swripped in one hand and a bolt pistol iher. Her voice rang out, strong and anding, cutting through the chaos: “For the Emperor! Sisters, fire! Purge this filth from the Emperor’s sight!”

  The Sisters responded with unwavering discipline, raising their ons as one. Bolter fire erupted in a symphony of destru, “Destroy the filth in front of you!” Their voices were immediately drowned out by the deafening roar of bolter fire. The bined firepower was like an uing steel tide crashing against a wall of bed, monstrous flesh. The wave of explosive rounds tore through the charging Minotaurs, sending gouts of red blood and shredded muscle into the air. The Daemons, which had seemed as immovable as stone, were obliterated in moments, leaving only dismembered remains scattered across the battlefield.

  But their numbers seemed endless. The entrao the underground city was broad enough to allow several Leman Russ tanks to pass side by side. Such a massive gateway couldn’t be fully sealed by even the most ferocious gunfire. From the dark recesses of the dungeon, more Minotaurs surged forth, their monstrous forms lit by the occasional muzzle fsh. These beasts, driven by an otherworldly fury, charged fearlessly toward the Vul gun towers, their massive axes gleaming with malice.

  “Everyohe enemy is right in front of you—what are you waiting for?” Kayvaan shouted as he straightened, sniper rifle in hand. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired. The sh out, sharp and precise. A distant Minotaur jerked backward, the bullet haviered its right eye.

  Kayvaan lowered the rifle slightly, watg the creature. Despite the headshot, it merely staggered, standing upright once more. The beast grunted in irritation, then reached up with one massive hand, its thick fingers plunging into the bloody socket. The monster began to dig into its own eye socket with an almost casual ferocity, as if trying to extract the bullet embedded in its skull.

  Kayvaawitched. The se was grotesque. ‘How is this thing still alive?’ He had seen monsters with incredible resilience, but this was beyond anything he’d witnessed. ‘Surely digging into your own brain would cause more damage than my bullet.’ Then, with a wet, eg bang, the Minotaur’s head exploded. The explosive round had finally detonated, obliterating the beast’s skull from the i. The t monster colpsed like a toppled statue, its massive frame hitting the ground with a thud.

  Kayvaan exhaled, his surprise fading. Explosive rounds weren’t ordinary bullets. Each was a miniature missile, desigo pierce the target aonate inside, causing catastrophiternal damage. Even a creature with vitality as tenacious as the Minotaur couldn’t withstand such destru. But there was no time to marvel. The battlefield was chaos inate, a releide of death and violence. Minotaurs tio charge, hurling themselves at the firepower arrayed against them. Behind them, from the depths of the dungeon, emerged a new figure—a rger, more muscur Minotaur. It didn’t join the charge, instead standing back, the battle with a cold, calg gaze. This one, clearly, was their leader.

  “I’ll bet,” Kayvaan said, pointing toward the rger Minotaur hidden in the shadows, “that you ’t hit that one’s eye.”

  Sydria raised her energy rifle without hesitation. “Left eye ht eye?”

  “Left eye.”

  The sharp thwip of an energy arrow being fired came almost before he finished speaking. The glowing projectile illumihe darkness briefly, and then it strue. The arrow embedded itself deep in the Minotaur leader’s eye socket. The massive beast let out a roar of agony, its pained bellow eg through the dungeon. The cry tly cut short as the psychiergy infused within the arrow tore the creature apart from the i colpsed in a heap, lifeless. Kayvaan stared, momentarily silent. Then, with a smirk, he said, “It was the right eye.”

  “It’s the monster’s left eye, but ht,” Sydria retorted, dismissively. Turning to her squad, she called out, “Khaine will protect us! Rangers, the hunting season has begu’s finish this.”

  The Eldar rangers sprang into a. Beams of psychiergy streaked through the air, eae a deadly nce of light. Each shot heralded the fall of another Daemon, its lifeless body crumpling in the wake of the Eldar’s precision. The rangers’ energy arrows danced across the battlefield like strokes of an artist’s brush, painting the air with brilliant, luminous trails.

  To the uninformed, it might have looked beautiful—a dazzling dispy of light and color. But for the Daemons, it was the cold, merciless art of death. This was the Eldar way: even in battle, they sought elegand beauty. If they couldn’t create art in the quiet of their sanctuaries, they would craft it otlefield, through blood aru. Kayvaan tio fire his sniper rifle, though his attention shifted away from the Daemons. Chaos owerful, but the creatures it summoned here were still flesh and blood. They could be killed, torn apart, or buro ash. The greater threat wasn’t the Chaos-spawned monsters wielding crude axes.

  With Sydria and her rangers joining the fray, the defetle quickly turned into a massacre. The charging Minotaurs, already battered by the Sisters of Battle under Elizabeth’s and, found themselves caught in a deadly crossfire. Fnked by the uing Vul gun towers and subjected to the Eldar rangers’ precise firepower, their ce crumbled. Had their leader survived, they might have persisted in their suicidal charge. But with his death under Sydria’s psychic-powered arrow, the beasts’ will to fight evaporated. Unlike pure Serapheas, these Minotaurs were Chaos-twisted creatures—beasts at heart. As, when overwhelmed, succumbed to fear.

  Uhe relentless onsught, the surviving Minotaurs turned and fled into the darkness. Their retreat offered little reprieve. The gun towers unleashed a barrage of fire, tearing into their exposed backs. Within mihe battlefield was littered with mangled corpses and pools of dark, steaming blood.

  The Vul towers, now devoid of immediate threats, shifted into automated monit mode. They rotated methodically, sing the gore-strewn battlefield for movement. Occasionally, a burst of fire would erupt, shredding any hint of disturbail nothing reizable remained. “Kayvaan, you arrived just in time,” Elizabeth said, her tone calm, almost casual. To her, it seemed as if they’d merely swatted away a horde of pests. “Any ter, and while we wouldn’t have suffered casualties, it might’ve caused unnecessary trouble.” Her gaze shifted to Sydria, who stood beside Kayvaan. “And who is this enigmatipanion? Might I have the honor of learning her name?”

  “You may call me Sydria,” the Eldar replied, a graceful one-handed greeting. Her tone carried the cool detat characteristic of her people. “Judging by your attire, you must be the leader here. And your name?”