Suddenly, Elizabeth’s wrath boiled over pletely. With a snarl, she wrehe unicator free and smashed it into oblivion. Marlbh flinched violently as she drew her bolt pistol aied rounds into the shattered remains. The deafening thunder of bolts discharging tore through the room, pulverizing both the equipment and the wall behind it.

  Nearby guards scrambled, dug for cover or cautiously peeking around ers. Fear rippled through the ranks; none wished to draw the Inquisitor’s attention. The Sisters of Battle, however, remained unfazed, sparing little more than a gnce before resuming their work with the discipline of the faithful. Marlbh, still in his seat, felt like prey trapped before a predator. Summoning his ce, he stammered, “Uh… ma’am… is everything—uh—alright?”

  Elizabeth’s gre could have melted steel. “Nothing’s wrong. The pn has ged. Order the stormtroopers to stand down and await further ands.”

  “Yes, ma’am! Right away!” Marlbh practically sprang from his chair, eager to escape the suffog tension. “Do you require rept vox units?”

  Elizabeth holstered her pistol and dusted off her scorched coat. “Obviously. Have it repced immediately.”

  “Uood, ma’am. I’ll see to it.” Marlbh fled with haste, barking orders to the stunned soldiers outside, relieved to leave the furious Inquisitor behind.

  Elizabeth folded her arms, her aill simmering as she muttered to herself, her thoughts lost in quiet fury. The sound of crumbling pster was the only hat remained.

  From the shadows, nervous guards exged ghey had seen war. They had faced monsters. But the wrath of an Inquisitor was something else entirely. One young recruit whispered, “Remind me o get on her bad side.”

  A grim-faced veteran beside him didn’t look away. “If you do, you won’t live tret it.”

  Time pased on, Kayvaan had been trag his target for three days. Through the scope of his sniper rifle, he patiently observed the Eldar rangers from a safe distance. His meticulous surveilnce tinued for ahree days, a he had gained little more than an uanding of the brutal game unfolding before him.

  The jungle was alive with silent battles, quiet deaths. The Eldar moved like phantoms, their movements elegant and deadly. Kayvaan's scope revealed a small team ers led by a single leader, totaling four individuals in his line of sight. Judging by their coordination, there were likely at least two such teams—twelve rangers in total. Three days ago, there had been sixteen.

  In that time, five Eldar rangers had fallen, their lifeless bodies marked by the precision of energy arrow wounds. The battlefield bore no signs of crude human onry—only the distinct marks of Eldar teology. This was a war fought in shadows, ranger against ranger, and the liween hunter and prey shifted stantly. From what Kayvaan could tell, the supposed pursuers were barely holding their own.

  Lying motionless in the underbrush, Kayvaan's optical camoufge blended seamlessly with the jungle's greens and browns. His breathing was steady, his body still. He was a ghost in the foliage, watg, waiting.

  Finally, he decided to act. Slipping the rifle onto his back, he began a slow and deliberate approach. Every step was calcuted, every movement silent. With the aid of his advaealth equipment, he glided through the jungle like a wraith, unseen and unheard. He closed the distail he was directly behind one of the Eldar. In an instant, he pounced, one hand g over her , tilting it upward. The other pressed the edge of a dagger against her throat. His voice was low, steady, but tinged with mockery. "Hello, Eldar. What’s so special about me?"

  The Eldar froze for a moment before replying, her voice lilting and musical, even in Gothic. "To sneak up on me like this... are you a human host?"

  Kayvaan allowed the bde to press against her armor, the tip grazing her pale skin. "Fttering me now seems a bit te, don't you think?"

  "If this is how we begin a versation, then perhaps it’s not too te," she answered smoothly. "Put away your bde, human. I invite you to talk with words, not ons. If you wish to kill me, then do so. But if you seek uanding, then speak. Surely, you’re not so foolish as to be unaware of who your true enemy is?"

  Kayvaaated but eventually withdrew his dagger. "I’ll admit, I don’t really know who the enemy is. To me, all Eldar look the same—fragile, like bean sprouts. You probably don’t know what bean sprouts are, but they’re delicate pnts that snap with the slightest pressure. Now, tell me, oh mighty bean sprout, what do you want to talk about?"

  The Eldar turo face him, removing her helmet with deliberate grace. Her face was breathtaking—smooth, pale skin, light blue eyes as clear as a mountain ke, and long ptinum hair casg past her shoulders. Her lips, a delicate shade of red, curled into a faint smile. Were it not for her slightly pointed ears, Kayvaan might have mistaken her for a mere human. "I am Sydria Sha'eilnis," she announced, her voice carrying an air of ethereal grad unmistakable authority. "And you, mon-keigh, could at least show some sembnce of courtesy. Remove your helmet a us speak face-to-face."

  Kayvaan studied her closely. Her elegant Eldar armged her form, atuating her lithe figure. Her sniper rifle and sleek bde suggested anything but peace. She was both alluring and dangerous—a deadly flower blooming in the heart of the jungle. Shrugging off his hesitation, Kayvaan removed his helmet. "Fine. I’ll admit, I’ve never seen an Eldar up close before. You look... very human."

  Sydria’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she tilted her head. "And you, human, look quite Eldar. I’ve never seen a warrior as fair or as handsome as you among your kind. If you were Eldar, perhaps we could even be friends." Her smile turned sharper. "But don’t be mistaken. While your aors were still crawling from the primordial muck, we Eldar had already mastered the stars. Whatever simirities you see are mere acts of evolution. We are not the same."

  Kayvaan smirked, unbothered by her words. "I’m fih that. Holy, I’ve been called too pretty to be a warrior anyeople mistake me for some kind of performer or ask how much I charge for—well, never mind that."

  Sydria regarded Kayvaan with a mix of disdain and pity, her voice carrying an air of dession. “Mon-keigh… barbarid vulgar. War, killing, bloodshed, death—these are not mere acts of viole forms of art. Beauty exists even iru. As a warrior, you shouldn’t abandon the pursuit of beauty. Fighting may be your duty, but appreciatiy speaks to your character and refi.”

  “Is this why you pulled me out of the shadows?” Kayvaan asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “irely,” Sydria replied, tilting her head slightly, her tone cold but deliberate. “I wao tell you who your real enemy is.”

  “Please enlighten me.”