“Enough!” Elizabeth’s voice was sharp, her psychic aura bzing as she raised her left hand. “You think you distract me with philosophy? You’re nothing but evil dressed i words!”

  ID Kayvaan raised a finger, still maintaining his unnervingly casual tone. “If you’d just listen, you’d see I’m not evil. I’m just… liberated. This isn’t possession; it’s coexistewo sides of the same . Dual personalities, if you will. The inal Kayvaan is dormant, and I’ve simply taken over for now. Surely, attag someone for having a ‘dual personality’ is a bit excessive, no?” He gestured toward her with exaggerated mockery. “Perhaps we could sit down, have a versation—see if cooperation might be possible?”

  Elizabeth’s response was swift and unpromising. She drew her sword in one fluid motion, its jagged teeth spinning to life with a meical roar. Psychic lightning surged in her left hand as her eyes burned with steely resolve. “iations have failed, daemon,” she spat. “Now die!”

  The sword screamed through the air as Elizabeth charged. ID Kayvaan sighed, dodging the initial strike with ease. “You’re not even trying to uand,” he muttered, sidestepping another swing of the sword. “I thought inquisitor like you were supposed to value rational discourse. You’re proving to be quite the disappoi.”

  Elizabeth ignored his words, sshilessly, each swing backed by psychiergy. The tent’s air crackled with tension, the floor trembling uhe iy of their frontation.

  ID Kayvaan’s movements remained fluid, his dark aura pulsing faintly with each dodge. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice carrying a note of exasperation.

  “You ’t simply brute-force your way through this. But if that’s the game you want to py, then I’ll indulge you.” ID Kayvaan raised his arm, his hand f the shape of a pistol—index and middle fingers straight, ring and little fingers curled into his palm, and thumb raised. It looked like a child’s game, pretending to shoot with their hand. “Bang,” he said, his tone mog. It seemed like nothing more than a silly gesture, a game of make-believe. But then, the unthinkable happened.

  A dark projectile shot forth, a blur of bck that left a faint trail in its wake. Elizabeth barely registered it before she felt a tremendous force sm into her abdomee the reinforced prote of her power armor, the impact sent her flying backward. Her body crashed through the stands, colpsing the structure into a heap of debris, where she y buried uhe rubble.

  ID Kayvaan shrugged nontly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess there’s no ce of cooperation. Seems like you were never serious to begin with, Elizabeth. And you wonder why the Inquisitioed you? With behavior like this, you’re er than a clueless nun.”

  With a flick of his hand, an invisible force yanked Elizabeth from the rubble. She was dragged through the air, suspended before ID Kayvaan like a puppet on strings. He studied her battered form with a look of disdain. “Blind and foolish,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You realized I wasn’t the same as before, yet you still charged in headfirst. You could’ve retreated, maybe even posed a real problem for me ter. But no, you thought you could take me on alone. Ridiculous.”

  The air ient grew heavy as ID Kayvaan unleashed the full force of his power. A dark energy radiated from him, causing the eructure to tremble violently. It wasn’t just physical—it was a crushing, oppressive presehat bore down on the mind and soul. Elizabeth trembled untrolbly uhe weight of it, her usual resolve crag. Nearby, Sydria, impaled and barely ging to life, let out a whimper. Even the red-haired witches, hardened warriors in their ht, had colpsed to the ground, curling into fetal positions as the sheer iy of the dark energy overwhelmed them.

  Elizabeth’s face turned ghostly pale, her breath hitg as despair took hold. She had thought Kayvaan might be possessed by a daemon—a on enough threat in the Inquisition’s line of work. If that were the case, she could simply kill him and be doh it. But this? This was something else entirely. Kayvaan wasn’t just possessed. He had bee something far more powerful, something she couldn’t hope to match. Her psychic attacks had been useless. Her bolt pistol hadn’t eve a scratch. By the time she’d thought to use her sword, the battle was already lost.

  Kayvaan sighed dramatically, his voice ced with mock pity. “Four beauties in one day? What a tragedy. Elizabeth, you’re a psyker. Surely you feel the differeween us. It’s like paring a firefly to the sun. You’re just a little i buzzing around, thinking you make a difference. Have you finally realized how pointless your resistance is? I’m feeling patient today, but don’t test my limits.”

  Elizabeth’s mind raced as she tried to process the situation. Something about this mome eerily familiar. The despair, the overwhelming power of an unstoppable enemy—it was just like her first enter with a daemon. Back then, she had faced a simir choice: to cower in fear ht back. Her heart surged with newfouermination. Never before had she felt so certain that the God-Emperor was watg over her. She believed this was her ce to prove herself, to recim her honor. The despair melted away, repced by fierce resolve. Without hesitation, Elizabeth spat at ID Kayvaan, her saliva hitting his face squarely. “Daemon! Die!” she snarled, her voice filled with venom.

  ID Kayvaan froze, geaken aback. For a moment, he seemed almost amused by her defiance. Slowly, he wiped the spit from his face with his hand, then licked it off with a deliberate, mog gesture. Produg a bck handkerchief from thin air, he dabbed at his mouth before speaking. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But if you’re so eager to exge fluids, let’s see how you handle mine.”

  Before Elizabeth could react, ID Kayvaan grabbed her by the hair and pulled her into a brutal kiss. His lips crashed against hers, his other hand roaming over her body with nard for her struggles. Elizabeth, the proud and formidable inquisitor, now looked like a defenseless mb caught in a predatrasp. Her desperate struggles and fierce resistance seemed only to heighten ID Kayvaan’s twisted enjoyment. Her defiance, once a hallmark of her strength, noeared powerless in the face of his overwhelming dominance.

  Soon, Elizabeth noticed something strange—something deeply uling—within herself. A strange heat coursed through her body, and to her horror, she felt an unfamiliar, involuntary respoo ID Kayvaan’s touch. She, who had never wavered in her resolve, was now experieng something that left her bewildered. But the shock quickly turo shame.

  ID Kayvaan wasn’t just a man; his delicate, almost otherworldly beauty masked an unfathomable darkness. He had the kind of allure that could unravel evero minds, a power that defied mortal prehension. These gifts weren’t his own; they were blessings—or curses—from Sanesh, the Prince of Excess.

  *In the chapter I will just adress ID Kayvaan as ID