Her reverie was shattered by a thunderous explosion, even louder than the ones before. Elizabeth opened her eyes, her sharp gaze cutting through the smoke. The battle was nearing its clusion. The addition of the fmethrowers had extinguished the Daemons’ st desperate hopes. They had nowhere left to run. The oute had been decided long before. From the moment Kayvaan infiltrated the tent, victory was iable. A charred mountain of corpses now blocked the tent’s entrahe twisted remains of Chaos Daemons who’d been driven into the kill zone by the coordinated assault. Kayvaan had meticulously phe trap, funneling the creatures toward the exit where Elizabeth and her Sisters held them at bay. The final explosion was the coup de grace, obliterating any stragglers caught in the crossfire.

  Ihe tent, the se was grim. Most Daemons y lifeless, but a few still g to existeheir guttural moans like the dying gasps of a defeated army. Kayvaan, hidden in the shadows, methodically picked off the survivors. Each bolt round recise, sileng the wounded with a sharp crad the wet sptter of flesh. "All clear," Kayvaan's voice carried over the s, steady and calm. "Ladies, finish the up. We’re on the clock."

  Elizabeth aowledged him with a nod. The Sisters advanced into the tent in disciplined formation, their bolters ready. The fmethrower team led the urging any traces of life beh their boots. The ground was no longer visible, covered entirely by the bloodied remnants of Chaos. Every few paces, they unleashed another burst of fire to ehing remaio rise again.

  Kayvaan slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder and moved toward the ter of the tent, his sharp eyes sing for anything suspicious. "Where’s the altar?"

  "ter stage," Elizabeth replied, gesturing toward a stoform that exuded an unnatural aura.

  Without hesitation, she emptied her bolt pistol into the ptform, the explosive rounds redug it to rubble in moments. "That’s it," she murmured, closing her eyes and fog on the dissipating energy. "The Chaos ritual’s power is gone, but the rift remains unstable. And Rosina’s not here. This was a decoy."

  She turo her Sisters, her voice firm and anding. "Sisters, pick up the pace. The Emperor watches over us, and there’s more evil to se. Onward to the battlefield!" "May the God-Emperor protect us!"

  A sudden, guttural roar split the air, shaking the grouh them. From behind Kayvaan, a massive golden form leaped into view. The beast was a grotesque mockery of a lion, its fur shimmering with an unnatural glow. Its eyes burned with unbridled fury, and its bloodstained maw opened wide as it charged. The Golden Lion roared again, its voice a thundercp e and hatred. It had waited for this moment, vowing to tear apart the mortals who dared defy Chaos. And first on its list was the sniper who had orchestrated this sughter.

  Kayvaan turned slowly, his bolt sniper rifle already rising to meet the beast’s charge. "Well," he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk on his face. "Looks like the show’s not over yet."

  The golden lion fought with relentless ferocity, whether his prey was a rabbit or the despicable humans who dared to challenge him. T over most beasts, the golden lion's colossal frame was matched by cws sharp enough to tear through anything that dared block his path. Oeful day, a group of humaary defense forces foolishly sought to defy him. Armed with their pride and a Chimera troop transport, they believed their armored vehicle could shield them from the wrath of Chaos inate. Their arrogance was short-lived. With a powerful swipe of his cws, the liourhe Chimera, ripping apart its thick metal pting like part. Their so-called fortress was nothing more than a toy, insignifit against the divirength Chaos had bestowed upon him.

  The battlefield was no different from the pins where the golden lion once hunted. He approached his prey with practiced precision, crushing them underfoot, peeling back their armor like a hide, and reveling iaste of blood and raw flesh. To the golden lion, the universe itself rawling grassnd, and he was the sn ruler, unchallenged and unstoppable.

  Uhe ordinary lions who zily basked ierritories, tent to rely on others for sustehe golden lion lived for the thrill of the hunt. Larger, stronger, and more determihan his kin, he disdained pcy. His days of prowling the wilds, chasing down prey, and indulging in his primal instincts were his greatest treasures. But those days ended all too soon when human hunters invaded his domain. They shattered the sanctity of the pins, hunting not for survival but for sport, mog the natural order. Infuriated by their audacity, the lion rose to defend his nd, only to be captured and sold to a circus, a mockery of his flory.

  Chaos soon swallowed the world that betrayed him. A colossal rift ed the pransf all life into twisted, mutated forms. Infused with the power of Chaos, the golden lion transded his earthly limitations, being a Daemonic beast of unparalleled strength and intellect. To him, this new universe was a boundless hunting ground, and he reveled in the endless sughter it offered. Chaos promised him infiential, and each hunt brought him closer to his ultimate evolution as a Daemon of immense power.

  Yet, even in his heighteate, he could not ighe stench of humans hiding in the shadows. Outside a makeshift tent, a group of humans brazenly roasted the flesh of Chaos-touched creatures, their pu odor fouling the air. Most Daemons loathed the acrid stench, but the lion’s sharp senses pinpointed a single human hiding withient. The st burned in his nostrils, aggravating his rage. This human was ing, but no one could outst the patience of a predator.

  The lion crouched low, his massive body blending into the shadows. He stalked silently, each step calcuted to remain unnoticed. The prey—arrogant and oblivious—believed itself hidden. It was typical of humans: small, fragile, yet insufferably self-assured. The golden lion relished the thought of tearing this one apart. His ce came when the human began firing indiscriminately, the muzzle fshes betraying his location. The shots were wild, uncoordinated—clearly, the human thought he was in trol. Foolish. The lion locked onto his position and prepared to strike. Before he could pounce, a group of women armed to the teeth ehe se. These humans were no ordinary soldiers; they moved with grim precision, sughtering Chaos beasts as if it were sed nature. The lion snarled in frustration. Even among humans, these females were unnatural, their skill in bat uling. He o act before they regrouped.

  Seizing his moment, the golden lion unched himself toward the lone human, a blur of muscle and malice. His cws aimed to shred the prey in an instant, but the human dodged with uny reflexes, rolling away just as the lion’s attack crashed into the ground. The lion's momentum carried him forward, and before he could recover, pain exploded across his abdomen.