Hello there readers.

Before anything else, I would like to say that I'm deeply sorry for my lack of updates for the past few months.

School became extremly difficult for a while, and I did not have too much time to write.

However, that was not all.

I have recently entered something of a tournament for creative writing… and somehow, it was on some sort of national level and I got silver.

So, seeing this, I have decided to slightly increase my own standards of writing and also work on an original novel.

So, I will definitely fix up some previous chapters in this story and change some things to make more sense or to fit the universe.

I'll try to say everything I changed/added at the start of the next chapter.

This same message will also be displayed in the other story I am currently working on.

As Yvraine stared into the compassionate eyes of her golden savior, she felt herself wavering, a great urge to take that hand suddenly piercing through her psyche.

The girl's form was a thing of perfection. Her body was so sublime, so brilliant, that even the priestess of Ynnead found herself humbled by it.

As the golden saint extended out her arm, however, Yvraine knew instantly that she could never take that hand.

Not even if the aura of the girl made her feel comforted and loved. Not even when it reminded her of her early days, days of a better life.

No, Yvraine could not take that hand, for if she did, then Ynnead could possibly lose his best herald to the Emperor of mankind.

With the last vestiges of her strength, the priestess slapped away her savior's hand weakly, grimacing at the effort.

She immediately passed out a second later, knowing that her further presence was unneeded, and that she could afford to do so.

Even if her savior was human, she could still be somewhat trusted. That was something that Yvraine was sure of, more than anything else. That warm aura would not allow the priestess to think any other way, not even if the weak sliver of Ynnead's power was urging her to resist with each passing second...

Seeing this, the face of her savior became shocked for a moment before forming a grin of understanding.

"Yes. I understand, Yvraine."

The golden angel turned her gaze upon the followers of Ynnead, bloody and bruised after their battle.

Her voice boomed like the hymns of a thousand saints, carrying a melodic strength and a charismatic power.

"Hear me, apostles of the Whispering God! I am Mal, daughter of the God-Emperor of Mankind! I have come to aid you as an ally, not as an enemy! Leave the daemon to me and retreat!"

Disoriented by Mal's enormous presence, the Ynnari found themselves unable to form any coherent words, their mouths failing them.

In fact, they were barely able to formulate any thoughts at all, not when the bright sun before them threatened to burn their very souls to ash.

Seeing this, Mal's eyes narrowed.

Her palm was suddenly outstretched, surrounded by a golden glow.

The Visarch, still crawling on the metal floor sever meters away from her, found himself lifted into the air by an invisible force, deposited right next to Yvraine.

With the last of his strength, the Eldar asked in pure bewilderment,

"Who are you?"

If Mal had any indication of hearing this, she did no show it. Finding himself at his limits, the Visarch collapsed, mind drifting into darkness just like his mistress.

Seeing this, Mal seemed to appraise their bodies, furrowing her eyebrows.

Then, as if reaching some interesting conclusion, the saint turned her head, now focused on the Greater Daemon facing her.

"But first,"

She raised her hand once more, and the chaos artifact began to float, consumed by golden energy.

The Keeper of Secrets, sensing something amiss, flinched instantly, as if trying to move its body to the side.

It was not fast enough.

The levitated artifact slammed into the creature's lower spine at the speed of a drop pod entering orbit, tearing a fist-sized hole in it.

The cube was unstained with poisonous ichor, as it had exited out the daemon's other side before gravity was even able to tug the liquid downwards.

Now floating in Mal's palm, the artifact seemed to screech in agony, as if the saint's very touch was a pain that even an agent of Slannesh could not hope to bear.

Frowning, the girl stated flatly,

"Interesting…"

Immediately locking eyes with the Greater Daemon, Mal did not even spare her allies a sideways glance, tossing the cube lightly to the nearest Eldar, a Harlequin with a frowning mask on his face.

A golden force shield surrounded the cursed item, warm to the touch. It would ensure that no Eldar would fall to the artifact's curse.

"Take it and go, Harlequin. Bring your wounded with you. As I have said before, I shall prevent this daemon from pursuing you."

Nodding wordlessly with his near-disabled mind, the worshipper of the Laughing God sprinted out of the room, followed by his comrades, not before they retrieved the prone forms of Yvrane and the Visarch.

Meanwhile, Mal stared calmly into the evil eyes of the Keeper of Secrets, a reflection of her prey in her eyes.

Faced with that stare, even the herald of Slannesh was unnerved.

After all, how could someone feel absolutely no emotion when staring upon it? The daemon was designed to induce the utmost revulsion and attraction in any and all beings. You would have to be a psychic blank to resist those emotions… so why?

Why was Mal staring at it as if the Greater Daemon was the same as a mere inanimate object?

While the Keeper of Secrets did not know it, pools of poisonous sweat had already formed at its feet, courtesy of its own body.

By now, the Eldar had already evacuated, taking the artifact with them.

Seeing this, Mal sighed.

The fire left her eyes, disappearing alongside her halo and wings, revealing a deceptively normal-looking girl with amethyst eyes.'

Her power seemed to disappear, the girl radiating a semi-normal pressure across the room.

Reaching into a golden portal that had appeared at her side, she retrieved a splendid, curved chainsword, glistening with otherworldly energies.

The Greater Daemon, no longer withstanding that soul-crushing pressure, found itself calming down, the burn marks on its flesh healing instantly.

Shame, it was growing fond of the pain too.

Mal readied herself in a sword-stance, preparing for a melee confrontation.

"Alright. I don't have to act anymore! Anyways, I'll be using you as a training dummy! No objections, right?"

The Greater Daemon snarled. It became angry for the first time in a millennium.

"I am no doll, child of the Anathema!"

The daemon had access to nearly all the secrets ever whispered across all of reality. It immediately knew the identity of the Emperor's newest child.

It also knew that it had no chance of winning in a normal circumstance, but Mal seemed to be underestimating its prowess. This could be used to quickly turn the tides, or so the herald thought.

In reality, it knew that there was no real chance of victory, but its master would not allow a retreat. Therefore...

Mal, on the other hand, was contemplating the situation.

"Alright. A weak, no-name daemon of Slannesh. It's perfect for my first training dummy. Hopefully, I can improve a little."

Eyeing the massive Warp portal a few meters away from the Daemon, Mal wondered if she should close it.

"No, let's not. Fighting multiple combatants at the same time might serve as good preparation, or so I hope."

And then, as if on cue, a swarm of daemonettes came out of the portal, lunging at Mal with their cursed claws.

Seeing this, Mal's eye twitched. Their battle-induced screams were a bit loud for her sensitive ears.

"Ok, nope. They're just annoying. Ugly too."

There was a blur of motion, and then ten daemonettes fell over, sliced into pieces.

Mal walked over to the Greater Deamon, seemingly uncaring of the smaller enemies that assaulted her.

As soon as they approached, they fell into strips of phantasmal flesh at her feet, foul ichor spilling into the ground. Gusts of shredding air were sent all across the room multiple times, able to draw blood from the flesh of an Astartes.

More daemonettes attacked her, only to meet the same end.

Eventually, Mal stopped a meter from the feet of the Greater Daemon, staring it right in the eye.

The giant's sword came down at hypersonic speeds, attempting to cut down its enemy before she even knew it.

However, Mal simply sidestepped the blade, watching as it embedded itself in the ground.

The daemonettes around them were knocked to their feet by the impact of the blow. The gust of wind simply ruffled Mal's hair.

Normally, anyone would find the daemons repulsive, their wretched perfume causing the hearts of man, woman, and child alike to choke in repulsion.

However, Mal simply did not care for it. This was nowhere as bad as the smell of nurgalite corruption, which even she would not be able to handle.

It was simply because of her dull previous life and former apathy.

Mal saw exactly what her enemy was and exactly what it entailed, but she simply accepted it. She did not recognize it as unnatural like her brothers, but simply saw it as a factor of the universe.

Besides, close proximity to the Emperor for multiple years had desensitized her to such weak psychic perfumes, so there was really nothing to say.

Observing the gigantic blade beside her, Mal's eyes widened.

"That was actually pretty fast!"

Recognizing the no-name Greater Daemon as something close to a worthy opponent, Mal disappeared in a flash of gold, appearing right in front of her enemy's face in an instant.

This was no psychic sorcery, nor a blessing of the Emperor.

Mal had sealed all of those aspects away, as she found the perfect opportunity to train her swordsmanship.

Here, she could fight one of the greatest champions of Slannesh by herself without endangering any lives. It was an opportunity hard to come by.

That said, this Keeper of Secrets was a no-name. It was not important or skilled to pose anything close to a life-threatening challenge, but that might have been the best for Mal's first Greater Daemon.

"Hmm… I'm not too worried. That last hit was fast, but not that fast. I should be able to take this guy, no problem."

Holding her saber one-handed, Mal spun in the air to gain momentum, swinging it down with mountain-splitting force.

The Greater Daemon bent backward, its spine twisting behind it in an unnatural manner.

Twin claws were suddenly upon Mal in a flash, trying to capture her within their world-crushing grips.

The girl spun midair, and suddenly, deep wounds ran along both of the giant's arms, bleeding pink ichor.

As Mal landed on the ground, The Keeper of Secrets clawed at her with its fingered hand, attempting to gut the girl with its talons.

Stopping the blow with one free hand, Mal looked to the side, seeing a massive daemonsword slicing towards her waist at reality-distorting speeds.

"If I try to block, it'll attack with the other arms. If I jump up to dodge, it'll change the blade's direction mid-air."

There was only one option in this case.

Mal leaped backward, distancing herself from the daemon by twenty meters.

As the daemon's sword cut nothing but empty air, it suddenly felt a sharp pain at its legs, not realizing that its etherial muscles had been cut at the last moment.

Moaning in pleasure, the Keeper of Secrets dropped to its knees in a kneeling position, now at a lowered elevation.

It felt a large gust of wind at the back of its neck, Warp-born precognition recognizing the sharp kiss of rotating steel at its throat.

Reality itself seemed to fold as the Keeper of Secrets disappeared from its previous location, Warp-embued speed carrying it fifty feet away from its opponent, allowing it to face her.

Hamstrung legs healed in mere seconds as the giant rose to its full height, muscles in all four limbs tensing until they were harder than adamantium.

This time, as Mal moved forward, the Greater Daemon was ready for her, all four limbs accelerating rapidly, offering a hail of blows upon the depowered saint.

Smiling, the girl's own hands shot out, blocking or parrying each attack that came at her.

"A test of speed, huh? Too bad. I've seen much better."

Indeed, comparing the speed of the Emperor to a mere daemon was not something that should ever be done.

Still, Mal was accustomed to much worse than these attacks, even if they were not actually slow at all.

The girl walked forward, arms swinging in unnoticeable blurs. Every time her weapons met with the enemy's, there was a crash of sound, like the deafening roar of a sonic weapon. Every strike was enough to sunder a castle wall, every parry sturdy enough to withstand a hundred thunder hammers striking as one.

Needless to say, the lesser daemons could not get close. They were knocked away by the unintentional blasts of energy generated by the seismic battle before them, the overzealous ones being torn to pieces by their sheer proximity to the grenade-like roars of crossing swords and colliding limbs.

Mal deflected the gigantic daemon sword of her foe a hundred times in a single second, putting all the skills she could muster into her limbs.

The same could be said for the daemon's other attacks, but they were all much slower than the movement of its sword.

The Keeper of Secrets, feeling threatened now, lashed out in a burst of psychic energy, purple sparks of conceptualized pleasure shaking the museum to its foundations.

Powered by the artifact which summoned it, the daemon became faster and stronger than before, reality-folding speed carrying it forward at a pace that even Mal was shocked at.

Instantly, the giant disappeared in a dispersal of pink mist, appearing behind Mal with its sword raised.

The girl was barely able to bring up her saber in time to intercept the supercharged daemon sword crashing down upon it, the impact releasing the destructive potential of a hellstrike missile.

"It's faster."

Using a considerable amount of arm strength, Mal broke from the clash by knocking away the enemy's sword, only to be trapped between two fast-moving crab claws, radiating dark pink fumes.

After a split-second decision, Mal released her sword, moving her hands to her sides in a burst of superhuman strength.

She gripped a claw in each hand, gripping them in place with such force that the appendages' carapaces cracked and screamed as if in pain.

Instantly, the daemon's gigantic unarmored claw swung at Mal from the side, sparkling with pink electricity.

Instantly ducking under the blow, the girl managed to dodge the attack well. Her hair, not quite following Mal's movements in time, was cut to half its length. However, the severed strands quickly reconnected to its original position in a half-second, as if nothing had happened to them in the first place.

The gale winds from the Greater Daemon's strike tore through the daemonettes around it, shredding their repulsive purple flesh.

Mal, taking advantage of her crouched position, leaped upwards, not before tearing her sword from the ground.

With the force of a thousand bolter rounds, she thrust her sword upwards, aiming for the massive throat of her foe.

And then, her eyes widened as the massive daemon shifted out of her way, evading the supersonic thrust with a swift shift in location by utilizing the Warp.

Finding her sword plunged through the ceiling of the museum, Mal launched herself from the adamantium structure, spinning through the air towards her enemy in an attempt to gain momentum.

It was like a human bullet. However, no bullet could go as fast as Mal was right now. She had long since breached the sound barrier, and was now already at Mach 4.

In response to this, the Keeper of Secrets snarled in rage, placing its twin crab claws and sword in front of its body in an attempt to defend itself.

However, as Mal finally reached the defense of her enemy, bringing her sword down on it with the force of a nuclear warhead, she found that the daemon had sidestepped, bringing down its clawed hand down on her.

Mal, who had invested everything into her last attack, was near powerless against the blindingly fast blow.

"Shit!"

That was all she could think before the daemon's claws tore into her chest, creating a deep gash on her body.

The force of the blow knocked Mal into the wall furthest away from her, the impact creating a massive crater in the metal, almost as if a meteor had struck it.

The girl dropped to the ground, clutching her stomach and chest, attempting to safeguard the organs and intestines that were already threatening to spill out.

"Shit! This hurts too much!"

Normally, Mal had fantastic pain resistance. In her previous life, the girl had not cared about what happened to her in the least. Since her life was so meaningless, she suffered all sorts of injuries without any reaction.

After all, even if she died from those injuries, so what? It wasn't as if there was anything worth living for.

In fact, it was only a small sliver of hope that kept Mal from killing herself outright. That sliver of hope inside the girl kept telling her that someday, she would find meaning in life. Someday, there would actually be a purpose for her.

In the end, that sliver was not much, and it certainly did not make Mal value her life too much. The only thing that slight hint of emotion had inspired was a reluctance towards suicide. That was all.

However, now Mal has finally found meaning in her life, a loving father who backed her at every turn; she found herself valuing life much more than before.

Moreover, Mal's new body brought with it new, increased senses.

She could feel every single nerve end in her wound cry out as one, seeing the damage through a lense of absolute pain, estimating the grade of physical damage through bodily suffering.

A slight wound was transformed into a roaring pain. A light injury was morphed into a blinding agony, and a fatal injury was transformed into suffering that would lay low even the most stalwart of veterans.

"Oh, it's not healing very fast. Probably some Slanneshi sorcery. Okay, I'm still not using my powers. Don't need them for this!"

Normally, Mal could be easily persuaded to change her mind, if given the right information. However, she knew for a fact that she did not need to use her powers on the daemon before her.

After all, it was just a random, no-name Keeper of Secrets. If she couldn't even defeat this thing in her base form, then something was terribly wrong.

Therefore, lifting herself off the ground, Mal stood on slightly wobbly knees, slightly groaning in pain.

She had not been expecting the greater daemon to suddenly increase in power, and had been caught by surprise.

"No more of that."

Mal simply stood still as the Keeper of Secrets chuckled, warping out of existence in a mist of pink corruption.

Closing her eyes, the girl held her sword with one hand, wounds half-healed.

"Calibrating trajectory of attacks, strength of attacks, dexterity of body, measuring Warp-enhanced speed. Equalizing… adapting… calculating method of victory… calculating… calculating… complete."

And then, not even a millisecond after its disappearance, the greater daemon appeared behind Mal, its grotesque mouth twisted in a grin of triumph.

All limbs slicing towards Mal in the likeness of four guillotines, the daemon planned to eviscerate its target while she was still recovering.

"Become fodder for my ascension, demigod!"

And then, as the grotesque arms closed in on her location, Mal simply stood… and deactivated the power field on her sword.

The Keeper of Secrets stared in confusion, an unusual frown gracing its beautiful, yet abominable face.

Its arms were not moving. The limbs of its physical form, the one optimized for its existence in the material plane, could not move.

Irritated, the daemon assumed that Mal had used some sort of Warp trickery.

Then, it looked down, hearing four objects impact upon the ground as one.

A furious scream of an otherworldly creature could be heard from miles away, expressing its anger and pain on the damage inflicted upon it.

As Mal turned around, expression calm, she observed the sight of a screaming daemon, roaring in rage that was unbefitting of Slannesh.

Its arms, appendages with such durability that they could shrug off jets of plasma, laid on the ground in ruins, dissipating in wisps of pink dust.

Their master, glaring at the poison-blood jets erupting from its four stumps, tensed its entire existence, unwilling to accept the result it had been presented with.

"How?! You were not this powerful before!"

Mal patted down her clothing, her wounds long healed.

Opening a gate in the Warp next to her, the girl slid her sword into it, as there was no need for it anymore. Her enemy would not be holding a weapon again in this battle. She would make sure of it.

She spoke disinterestedly at her enemy, as if not considering it to be worthwhile.

"Let me guess, the artifact gave you a massive power boost, and you can do unreasonable things. So now you're raging and moaning about how I can beat you in my base form, right?"

A snarl was her only answer, and Mal did not seem to care.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me. I've already beaten you five-hundred and thirteen times."

And then, the greater daemon looked into the demigod's blank eyes, and knew fear for the first time in its existence.

"If you're asking, I'll tell you."

Walking closer, Mal seemed to grow larger by the second, becoming a figurative giant to the greater daemon.

She pointed to her head with her index finger, tapping it one time.

"I've simulated our fight five-hundred and fourteen times. Since you're at full power, I lost the first one. However, after that, there was plenty of time to calculate and memorize your movement patterns to the point where I knew them by heart."

The daemon seethed in anger at its opponent's confidence, arms regenerating in an instant.

Leaping to its feet in a half-second, a plethora of hypersonic strikes headed towards Mal, each capable of splitting apart whole baneblades. The daemon did not have time to pick up its sword. It knew that the demigod would not allow such a course of action, not without a price.

Faced with this new threat, Mal simply… disappeared.

As if vanishing from existence, the girl had avoided all of the deathblows, while simultaneously appearing a mere two feet away from the daemon's face, slightly below it.

"I can't believe how much I was missing out. There are so many better methods to move than the clumsy ones I used before. A little bit of research in my head can lead to a lot of results, huh?"

Mal uppercut with her right fist, and the greater daemon's repulsive nose was smashed into oblivion, the force of the impact causing the creature to bite off its own tongue, the impact knocking it back several meters. This left traces of destruction in the adamantium floor, hoof prints trailing in a road-like pattern.

Mal had used every ounce of her mental power to search for a solution to this battle, and after simulating several battles with her foe, she finally found it. A sure path to victory.

Memorizing the structural consistency of her surroundings, the air resistance, and the behavior of her opponent, Mal had formed many simulations in the blink of an eye, completing each one faster than a supercomputer could calculate basic arithmetic.

Those simulations served to enhance her knowledge and power, as Mal learned how to manipulate her body to yield better results with every battle. Certain stances were created and optimized, releasing the constraints of an imperfect form.

Wasted movement was reduced to moot, and physical prowess was released in its maximum potential.

While Mal's base specs were inferior to that of a Primarch's, that did not mean she could not kill a simple greater daemon.

Therefore…

The greater daemon was suddenly behind Mal in a blink of Warp energy, slicing at her airborne form.

To this, the girl spun in the air, evading each strike by mere millimeters. She landed atop the daemon's pincer claw, its potent aura finding no purchase upon her blessed body.

"It is still unpleasant though."

Before the daemon could react, Mal had already dashed up its claw and onto its shoulder, unleashing a perfectly-positioned strike that obliterated her opponent's neck in an overwhelming show of force.

The Keeper of Secrets choked as the immaterial bones within its neck was reduced to a million shards of Warp matter, the force of Mal's blow compressing it like a pitiful stalk of celery.

Cursing in aroused fury, the Keeper of Secrets' infernal head drooped from its shoulders, like a ball contained within a meaty sack, dangling from an elevated position.

Without waiting for her enemy to react, Mal grabbed a portion of the daemon's neck before it could begin to heal.

She spun the large cylindrical shape, taking advantage of its now flaccid form.

Generating enough motion energy to open a thousand steel gates, Mal twisted the greater daemon's neck again and again, a hundred times in a single moment.

By the time the deed was done, the greater daemon's physical form was a joke.

Its head drooped from its body in the likeness of a slinky toy, body still desperately attempting to attack its aggressor.

Even though she was cursed at in a language of times immemorial, containing words of supreme power, Mal shrugged past it all, gripping the daemon's neck with both hands.

Before the greater daemon's neck could unfurl due to its unnatural healing, Mal continued to twist it even further, until the wretched pink flesh of the monster became strained and bleeding, the tissue just a small step away from tearing.

The creature's twin claws bent in unnatural directions, speeding towards Mal akin to great missiles.

Expecting this, the demigod did not even turn to look at them before hopping off the daemon, gripping its head the whole time.

And as the creature's neck, stretched to the maximum of its tensile strength, was ripped in twain by Mal's weight, its head held in her hands

The separated body of the daemon, instead of falling like any rational organism, simply stood still, as if frozen in time.

The severed head of the creature, dripping with venomous ichor, was more massive than Mal's entire torso, large enough for her entire body to fit within it.

Knowing what would happen next, the girl tossed the head to her side with one hand, dashing forth in the next.

The giant monstrosity's head would regenerate and reattach in a few seconds, but Mal did not give it the opportunity to do so.

Disappearing in a flash of motion, she reappeared in front of one of the daemon's kneecaps, almost as if suspended mid-air.

Delivering a great punch to the immaterial cartilage and bone of the daemon, Mal snapped its left leg in twain, the limb bending in the opposite direction it was supposed to. This was followed by the sounds of brutal cracking and tearing, highlighted by the scent of ectoplasma.

In a mere second, the giant's other leg met the same fate, no longer able to support its weight.

Suddenly, the venomous daemon fell to the ground with a mighty crash, head finally regenerated.

However, it knew that its regeneration had been too slow, and the enemy now had the advantage.

Mal knew this too, speeding towards the daemon's face and delivering a fist into the fleshy mass, unleashing enough power to demolish an imperial knight.

The daemon's face was unrecognizable, only defined by a massive crater that disallowed the existence of eyes, mouth, and nose.

"You see, I can't really banish you without using my powers. However, doing so would take the whole point out of this training. Therefore, I'll just beat you until the Ynnari gets so far away with the artifact that you can't maintain your existence anymore."

Another punch was delivered into the daemon's already ruined face, smashing past even more biological defenses.

The unnatural bones consisting of the daemon's skull was fractured with the first punch.

But Mal's brutal assault would not end with a single strike.

Normally, she would not be as brutal against many other life forms, her moral code disapproving of needless mutilation.

However, this kindness did not extend to daemons by any mean.

Mal knew what they were, just small chunks of emotion and desire, cut off from the largest mass of emotions and desires in the universe.

Their debatable 'sentience' was nothing but a mere illusion in the end, and all of them were nothing but a massive pain in humanity's rectum.

Daemons were nothing but humanity's most troublesome enemy, unremorseful and unceasing in their malicious ways.

They were one of the greatest enemies of Mal's father, and she would treat them as such… at least for now…

Mal's fists became a blur, sending hundreds of strikes into the daemon's body by the second.

Each strike was capable of breaching adamantium, each impact containing the explosive might of a hellfury missile.

In an instant, the greater daemon's head was gone once again, crushed to oblivion under the punches of its aggressor.

With each punch, Mal's fist drew back. Each time they drew back, she was careful not to waste the prebiously-generated kinetic energy, repurposing it for the next punch.

This resulted in the acceleration of her fist, causing an increase of speed and damage, something the daemon would not enjoy.

Moving down the greater daemon's body in a slow and methodical manner, Mal did not stop hammering down upon her enemy's body for an instant, cautiously eyeing the lesser daemons around her.

Now Mal was not clashing with the greater daemon, the smaller heralds of Slannesh would not be torn apart immediately by the physical side-effects of their battle.

However, the impacts of her punches against the greater daemon's flesh unleashed great shockwaves of wind that would knock even an Astartes to their feet. Therefore, the daemonettes could not even approach her, once again.

Mal moved down and up the daemon's massive body, immediately demolishing any pat of it she deemed to be regenerated to an unacceptable level. This kept the greater daemon brutally flattened against the cratered ground, akin to some sort of demented pancake, oozing thick acidic venom.

"This is just pathetic. The little ones can't even get to me."

Keeping up her assault, Mal waited three more minutes for the greater daemon to lose its strength, for the Eldar to evacuate from this world.

Eventually, it happened.

Feeling the regeneration of the greater daemon slowing, Mal stopped her punching, observing the regeneration of her foe instead.

Seeing an opportunity, the army of daemonettes rushed at her, determined to rip the girl to shreds.

But the bones of the greater daemon had partially regenerated before they reached her.

This fact would seal their fates.

Mal, as if evaluating the cooking time of a pot roast, hummed in satisfaction as if the dish had been sufficiently prepared.

And in the next second, she did something not even her brothers would think of.

Eyeing the greater daemon as if it was nothing but a mere weapon, Mal tightly grabbed one of its tree-stump legs, pulling it towards her.

As soon as she did that, Mal began to spin, dragging the unfortunate daemon with her.

The greater daemon, half-healed, could not struggle in time, and it was soon too late for such a thing to have consequence.

Mal's entire body became a tornado as she spun on one leg, dragging along her new victim.

The greater daemon's leg was seemingly sucked into a vacuum, resulting in a motion that it had no control over.

Under Mal's overwhelming strength, the daemon prince was simply dragged along under her whims, meaning that it was used as a weapon against its own underlings, a simple broom moving in a circular motion.

The air around Mal seemed to burn as the speed of her rotation surpassed the possibility of humanity, making the greater daemon an effective extended weapon.

It was like a battlecruiser crashing into a belt of asteroids.

In less than a second, all of the daemonettes streaming from the portal were destroyed, their physical forms strewn across the floors of the museum before they could even react.

Mal was not dizzy from spinning as much as she did. After all, that genetic imperfection no longer existed within her body.

Sensing that her mission was complete, the girl stopped spinning her victim, who had now regenerated to the point where flakes of skin were appearing on its form.

However, it seemed to be even slower than before, causing a smile to grow on Mal's face.

"It looks like they're about to get out of range. You're about to disappear."

The daemon hissed in fury as it laid on the ground, leg still firmly trapped in Mal's grip.

"A minor setback. Rest assured in knowing that I will NEVER stop hunting you down, child of the Anathema."

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"You're currently overcharged because of the Chaos artifact. If this extra powerful version of you couldn't defeat me, what makes you think a weaker version will?"

The greater daemon laughed, its regenerated tongue tensed and extended like an angered viper.

"There isss more than one method of attack... Rest assured that I am more than aware of all of them…"

Mal sighed.

"Well, I was expecting that… I was going to piss off a daemon eventually. I'm just glad the first one was a no-name like you."

Hissing was the only reply to that statement, something the daemon seemed to do regularly.

As of now, Mal could clearly see the flesh of the greater daemon begin to flake off and disappear in purple mist.

"Hmm, it looks like they're in a starship already. Guess I'll kill you now."

The rapid degradation of the daemon could only mean that the Ynnari had already reached one of their starships. The distance they covered would make the connection of the daemon and the artifact weaken tremendously.

Looking to the portal behind the greater daemon, Mal hummed.

The rift in reality was flickering, threatening to collapse at any moment. Any lesser daemon that attempted to enter realspace vanished instantly, the flimsy connection not enough to support their physical forms.

This did not completely apply to the greater daemon, who was only severely weakened.

Even so, it was in no position to resist Mal now, nearing the end of its time in the material plane.

Seeing this, Mal changed her mind.

Originally, she was going to fight the daemon until it disappeared on its own, without utilizing lethal force.

However, she realized that if she banished the greater daemon personally, it would not be able to materialize again for some time.

That was simply how daemons worked. If a skilled psyker sent them back to the Warp correctly, the daemon would be permanently restricted from appearing near the time of the banishment, sometimes by a century, sometimes even a millennium.

In fact, if Mal did not banish this greater daemon right now, it could possibly appear right in the middle of the Ynnari through the corrupted artifact she gave them.

The force shield she had conjured over the artifact worked as something akin to an anti-Chaos charm, created with her own physic essence. She had been keeping it apparated for quite some time now, but thanks to Mal's newfound multitasking powers, it was not too much of an issue.

Even so, if a greater daemon wanted to break out of such a flimsy shield, then it could do so easily, as the artifact was somehow ingrained with a connection to the Warp.

Therefore, Mal had to banish the daemon so it could not materialize for quite a long time.

Knowing this, Mal nodded, eyes glowing with golden power.

A halo of power shimmered over her head, as if flickering in and out of existance.

The daemon, seeming to know what would happen, only smiled as its mutilated body struggled to regenerate. The creature's words were angry and frustrated, but those emotions were not present in its tone.

"You will pay for thisss. I swear upon the Prince of Pleasure, I will break you for thisss."

Despite knowing that it had already been defeated, the greater daemon of Slannesh simply grinned at the setback, knowing that its revenge would be all that much sweeter.

It was a daemon. Time quite literatly had no impact on its ilk. Therefore, the Warp-spawned horror would simply bide its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And there was always a perfect time to strike. After all, from the present to the end of time, there were still quite many trillions of years left.

Mal's right arm was suddenly encased in an aura of white-hot flame, burning with more majesty of the Arumite of the custodians.

The lesser daemons which had just exited the portals clutched their physical forms in pain, while the greater daemon just smiled once more, ignoring the slight burns appearing on its body.

And then, with a slight grin on her face, Mal suddenly appeared before the fallen daemon, distorting reality in order to accelerate past the confines of all physical laws.

It was the exact technique the greater daemon had utilized in their battle.

Standing before the fallen giant, Mal tilted her head to the side, already drawing back her flaming limb.

"This is goodbye, for now. Just know that when you're back, I'll be ready for you."

And then, without waiting for a response, the burning arm was shoved into the chest of the greater daemon, an action that incited a scream from the very embodiment of its presence in the Warp.

In an instant, the greater daemon was aflame, consumed by the power of its patron's greatest enemy.

To be a daemon before the Emperor's power was to perish. This was a well-known fact.

The greater daemon was given the opportunity to scrutinize this fact at close proximity.

A swirl of golden flame circled around the being's form, dutifully consuming every portion of corrupt flesh, obliterating every trace of unnatural existence.

For the greater daemon, it was a sensation more painful than anything it had felt before.

Worse than the humiliation of its low station.

Worse than the bite of Khorne's dogs.

Worse than the lashes of the Prince of Pleasure himself.

As a servant of Slannesh, the greater daemon was supposed to be able to take pleasure from every possible sensation.

However, when faced with the might of the God-Emperor, it found itself truly, utterly detesting a sensation for the first time.

What the daemon felt was not pain, at least not in the conventional sense.

It was something that could not be explained in any language, only experienced by the enemies of the god of humanity. In other words, it was an exclusive sensation.

However, even if the greater daemon found itself detesting the new sensation, the fact that it could actually detest any feeling brought a sense of freshness to its being, a sliver of intrest entering its unfavorable psyche.

"Intresting~"

With the last of its strength, the daemon spoke those words through burned lips, already toasted to a hideous black. A millisecond, even that blackness was reduced to nothing, consumed in holy flame.

And with the greater daemon's demise, the portal linking the Warp to the materium screeched with otherworldly agony, as if sentient.

Then, it snapped shut with a cosmic boom, rejected from reality thanks to Mal's very presence.

Mal simply looked to the traces of pinkish miasma that were left, walking away from the room as it subsided.

Soon, the museum of the ancients was once again devoid of life, its glorious form left for the newest generation of explorers to behold.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Yvraine was safe aboard her ship, clutching the golden orb within her hand. The Visarch stood to her side, his hand on his sword at all times. His wounds had already been removed by the Aledari medics, but his suspicions were anything but.

"Mistress. It is not wise to keep the corrupted artifact so close to you. Who knows when this strange barrier will falter and fail?"

Yvraine sighed.

"Did you not behold her power, Visarch? I wish to study it with my own eyes for any future benefits she may bring."

She leveled her gaze at him.

"Besides, it has not failed us yet. We have no reason to believe that it will at a later time."

The Visarch snorted.

"Such trust in a lowly mon-keigh, mistress… they have failed so many times in the past. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

Yvraine simply raised an eyebrow.

"We have had the same concern with Rouboute Guilliman. And my answer is still the same. The new variable is just a temporary ally, nothing more. We will use her to bring our own ambitions to fruition. That is all."

The Visarch snorted. However, he did not say more, seeing that Yvraine could not be convinced to see matters from his point of view. However, he had to concede that his mistress's line of thinking yielded an ample amount of results for now. That was a fact, and no matter how lowly he thought of the mon-keigh, there was no changing it.

However, as both Yvraine and the Visarch were lost within their own thoughts, the golden sphere within the priestess's hands suddenly began to shift and shimmer, the energies holding it together changing itself into… something more.

Yvraine swiftly tossed the orb into the air, drawing her blade in a smooth motion, already ready to slice down upon the shielded artifact.

Her eyes were filled with mystical energy as she began to call upon the power of Ynnead, ready to cast the foul Slanneshi artifact into the Warp if she needed to.

However, such a need was not existent, as the strange cube seemed to retract into itself for a brief moment, as if combating a force that threatened to overwhelm it.

And suddenly, it's repulsive pink color morphed into gold for a brief second before changing back. It floated in the air, as if light as a feather.

Yvraine, still ready for anything, was astounded by this.

"What?"

The Visarch eyed the cube warily, sword already drawn.

"On guard, mistress! Be prepared for anything!"

Yvraine could only nod, glad that her trusted advisor was of the same mind as her.

The cube began to shift and convulse mid-air, its shape distorted by Warp-borne energies that did not abide by the laws of physics.

And then, it erupted in an explosion of golden flame.

The shockwave was enormous to the psychically sensitive Yvraine, basked in the energies of her god. However, for the Visarch and everyone else aboard their ship, it was little more than an almost undetectable feeling, a shivering of warmth from their bodies.

Yvraine was forced to take a step back as the energy washed over her, so similar yet so different at the same time.

It was akin to the energies of her own god, but so, so different.

Ynnead was calm and serene, foretelling of a gentle death, his whispers stealthily stalking across the souls of all.

However, unlike the subtle aura of the Whispering God, the power of this entity was loud and brazen, proudly asserting its power without any restraint and mindfulness to others.

It was appalling, yet satisfying. Terrifying, yet beautiful in its own primal way.

The priestess of Ynnead's knees shook in a moment of weakness, her sword almost dropping to the ground.

Eyes widened in disbelief, Yvraine declared,

"It's her!"

And then, the cube she had sought to obtain, the cube that her followers had sacrificed their lives to obtain, fell to the ground with a dull clang, the beautifully-crafted wraithbone surface redirecting all kinetic energy outwards.

However, instead of the sickening pink of Slannesh, the artifact now glowed with a golden sheen, reminiscent of Imperial architecture.

Yvraine, cautious, stared at the altered cube with wide eyes.

"This is…"

And then, deciding to take a risk, the priestess picked up the cube with one hand, prepared to purify it in the power of Ynnead if need be.

However, precautions were not necessary, as the artifact did nothing but continue to glow brightly as it was.

And then, Yvraine knew.

The psychic signature of the artifact resembled the mark of the Imperial saint. Comfortable warm, and unceasingly radiant.

"I see. So this is her work."

And then, a tendril of barely-tangible wraith-light extended from the cube's surface, curling and twisting into the form of symbols. Symbols Yvraine knew to be originating from the language of High Gothic.

"A message?"

The Visarch scowled in his helmet, his body tense.

"Do not trust the human's words mistress! They are fraught with lies!"

Yvraine, however, was beyond convincing. The words of a new ally could not be so easily dismissed.

She was already running a finger through the series of gold-shining letters in the air, deciphering them with ease.

"'My apologies, herald of the Whispering God. I cannot meet with you for some time in the foreseeable future. However, I am glad that I arrived on time to rescue you from the Slanneshi trap. It would be a shame to lose such a valuable ally to such a thing.'"

Yvraine paused.

"Her words are not humble, but neither are they truly arrogant. I am not sure what to make of this."

And then, she read on.

"'Now, our business is concluded, at least for the moment. I can only wish you luck on your current endeavors, as I have other matters that need my immediate attendance.'"

Yvraine frowned as the artifact dropped to the ground, losing most of its golden luster. A great portion still remained, but it was more calm, more controlled.

The Visarch declared in a rare burst of irony,

"Well that was certainly an elegant method to send a message."

Yvraine allowed herself to smile slightly at the quip, picking up the artifact and securing it within her grasp.

"Humanity was never known for their elegance, and they will never approach us in this aspect."

Unfolding her fan in front of her face, Yvraine glanced at the Visarch with amusement clear in her expression.

"However, their usefulness shows itself in their lack of it. Sometimes, a primitive dagger will yield more of a prize than even the most articulate of long rifles. The prowess of a weapon depends on the battlefield it is tested upon."

Even the Visarch could only nod his head at these words, hiding a snort behind his helmet. This wisdom was not something he would deny, as years of military experience proved his mistresses' words.

Eyeing the bright stars from a window upon her starship, Yvraine could not help but smile in eager anticipation.

"I eagerly await our next meeting, Archsaint."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Mal found herself within the dark shroud of the Warp once more, idly observing the hordes of daemons attempting to assault her from every conceivable angle and direction.

Even if Mal's sheer presence was enough to keep the daemons at bay, she was still able to observe them in their entirety.

In the Warp, the daemons flaunted their true forms without a care of the world, becoming impossible existences surpassing the threshold of every dimension.

For the nature of the Immaterium itself was not as shallow and meek to be considered a mere dimension. No, the palace of Tzeench itself consisted of seven dimensions, and the rules within every plane of existence itself was rendered dull and void within the anti-reality that was the Warp.

For the creatures which dwelled in this chaotic antithesis of reality, the only rules that were imposed on them originated with the wishes and desires of their betters, other Warp-borne entities containing more power than them.

And compared to a being like Mal, who, in the Warp, had the power to make and unmake entire multiverses with but a single thought, these mere serfs were nothing but minnows to a megalodon. Insignificant existences that could be erased with nothing but one of the girl's stray thoughts.

With nothing but a mere gaze, Mal saw into the essences of each individual daemon, gaining access to every emotion that birthed them, learning of their secrets, peering into body and mind and everything underneath.

And as she did so, the daemons, in turn, felt their powers lessen and their existences weaken, as Mal was anathema to them, and merely being within her presence caused them to wane.

This made the situation much less frightening for Mal. A normal human would be terrified and entranced by the daemons' mere presence. However, her gifts ensured that she was safe from such weakness.

As Mal navigated through the transdimensional planes of the Immaterium, she painted the very layout of its confines a brilliant gold, replacing violence and abundance with hope and truth in the likeness of paint on a blank canvas.

As she traveled back to the confines of her starship, Mal thought back to the mission the Emperor assigned to her, and its details.

Whilst the demigod was within her chambers, giving thought towards a new plan for the Imperium, an urgent cry rang across the infinite vestiges of the Warp, alerting her to its call instantaneously.

The sheer power and familiarity of the call made the messager's identity as clear as day, and the Emperor's daughter began her mission with steadfast grace.

A certain set of spacial coordinates were placed within her mind, and details of the mission were laid as bare as a newborn babe.

She was tasked to rescue the lives of the Ynnari, and did so without much trouble. However, the cleansing of the "artifact" was not completely intentional, and Mal was mystified on how she managed to do so for a brief moment.

Chaotic corruption was not something that simply vanished, not even when the Emperor's daughter was involved in its cleansing.

No, the nature of Chaos itself made it so that such a thing was near-impossible. The corrupting nature of the dark gods could not be so easily neutralized.

Therefore, for Mal to have not only purified, but blessed it in the Emperor's light… there were certainly other forces at play here.

While this information unveiled concerning knowledge, Mal knew that she simply did not know enough to make a judgment on her best course of action.

Therefore, she simply journeyed through the Warp, moving towards the Lion's home to meet with Valierian once more.

She had done an acceptable job with the resources provided. Therefore, Mal was satisfied with her work.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"Ah, yes. It is all coming together, just as we planned."

A lone figure stood in the center of a dark room, its wraithbone walls humming with still-flowing psychic energy.

Perhaps this was a storage area of some sorts. Or perhaps it was simply the private chambers of the ancient psyker.

It did not matter.

The thrumming cube it contained, however, was of the utmost importance.

That same invaluable object was held upon the figure's palm, radiant gold contrasting sharply with dull black.

Silken chuckles exited the figure's mouth, sounds that were capable of charming the most stoic of men and women alike.

"It is ironic, is it not? That your subjects would say that my cruelty surpasses yours by far."

Delicately dusting off the cube's surface with a hand, the figure glanced at it with laughter in his eyes.

"Led into a trap in the search for a holy artifact, unknowing of its true purpose, and just how mundane it really is…"

A crack appeared upon the arcane cube, tongues of golden lightning dispersing in all directions.

"I almost feel sorry for poor Yvraine… Well, I was the one who persuaded her into going."

The cube shattered, creating an explosion of holy light, drowning the room in golden flame.

"And you wonder why I ended our friendship back then."

The figure stood at the center of the damaged room, unharmed by the heat values he was exposed to, comparable to that of a neutron star's.

He narrowed his eyes upon seeing the object laying upon the palm of his hand. The hilarity had already passed. Now, there was only resolution, and a hint of anger.

"All this, my Emperor, for a telephone."

Clutching the small and seemingly-delicate object within his hand, Eldrad Ulthran exited the room. His tone was melancholic, his mood unknowable.

"Now, then. Where is Yvraine? I do believe that she needs to be… rewarded for the momentous tasks she has completed…"

And thus, Eldrad Ulthran fulfilled the oath he had taken twenty millennia prior, made with a man who he once called a friend.

The gears of fate had turned once more, and the deity who had taken ahold of them for the occasion completed one more step of his unfathomable agenda.

Tzeench would be proud, truly.

Isn't it funny?

When I started writing this, I thought I made Mal too overpowered for the universe she was in…

Then I read up on the novels…

Turns out she wasn't overpowered enough from the very start!

Hahaha, it feels like I pranked myself...