Warhammer: Echoes of Divinity
Chapter 104: For the Lord of Wisdom

"Enough spectating. Draw your melee weapon. We have work to do."

Qin Mo's voice snapped Yoan from his trance. He had been mesmerized, watching the Gallant-class Knight carve through the enemy ranks like a blade through parchment. The towering war engine's adamantine frame gleamed with battle scars, itsReaper Chainswordtearing through desperate defenders, each stroke leaving ruin in its wake.

Without hesitation, Yoan unslung his grav-hammer, its weight familiar in his grip. Butbefore he could move, Qin Mo detached his own chainsword, an unmistakable weapon of war and extended it to him.

"Take this. You'll understand soon enough why we need melee weapons."

There was an undeniable gravity in his tone. No further explanation. Only the command.

"This chainsword is… special. Try using it."

Yoan took it with reverence, his gauntleted fingers closing around the hilt. The weapon thrummed in his grip. Its motorized teeth were silent for now, but they bristled with the promise of carnage.

It wasn't just any chainsword, this weapon carried history, a legacy of blood and valor.

Thunderborn armor. The Aquila-staff. The chainsword.

These three things together formed Qin Mo's iconic image, the Angel of New Kato.

During the underhive rebellion, planetary defense troops had witnessed his descent from the heavens, clad in golden-gilded warplate, wreathed in divine fire and lightning.

His chainsword had sung the Emperor's wrath that day, while his Aquila-staff stood unyielding, a beacon amid the anarchy. With each strike, traitors and xenos fell. With each blow, order was restored, turning the tide of battle against impossible odds.

That moment had become legend, etched into the soul of the planet, spoken in hushed awe by those who survived.

It was immortalized in Imperial recruitment posters: Qin Mo standing tall atop a broken hive rampart, the Aquila-staff raised high, chainsword leveled forward, leading the faithful into battle. Below, in bold, unyieldingtext:

"I NEED YOU. THE EMPEROR NEEDS YOU!"

In the hive city of New Kato, entire statues bore his likeness, sculpted in reverence, frozen in the exact pose from those recruitment posters.

A chainsword. An Aquila-staff.

These two symbols had become icons of faith.

In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, such symbols could shape reality itself.

As if the weapon had been blessed.

"What about you, Lord Governor?" Yoan glanced at Qin Mo, now unarmed.

Qin Mo smirked, his grip tightening around the Aquila-staff. The weight of the sigil felt heavier than any blade.

"I'll bludgeon the enemy to death with this."

Yoan hesitated.

It felt... improper.

But it was Qin Mo's decision.

So he simply nodded.

Moments later, they ignited their jump packs, soaring through the war-torn air toward the fortress heart.

...

The Polar Fortress, Command Center

Inside the command center, Archon and the daemon Ky'ei stood before a bank of flickering monitors, their glow casting eerie shadows across the room.

Every corridor of the stronghold was displayed.

Then, two intruders appeared.

Most of the garrison had been pulled to the outer defense line, leaving only a skeleton force in the inner sanctum.

Even a token resistance should have slowed the enemy's advance.

Yet, they cut through effortlessly.

Bolts of crackling lighting seared through the hallways, reducing defenders to smoldering husks.

Each defender who attempted to stand against them was swiftly dispatched, their lives extinguished in moments.

Twin streams of scatter-laser fire reduced entire squads to burning ash.

Bullets and las-fire seemed to bend away, never finding their mark, as if the defenders were deliberately missing.

The intruders advanced with unrelenting purpose.

Finally, a reinforced bulkhead barred their path.

Beyond it arepurposed training hall, now transformed into a last stand.

A Leman Russ battle tank, its turret locked on the entrance.

Three heavy weapon teams, belts of ammunition coiled at their feet.

Nearly a thousand soldiers, entrenched in firing lines, lasguns trained on the sealed doors.

Their hands trembled, awaiting the inevitable. The air was thick with the stench of fear.

The door remained intact.

Yet, the intruders phased straight through.

One of then raised his hand, lightning arced from his fingertips.

The monitors flickered.

Then, they went dark.

"Even I find this... unreasonable," Ky'ei muttered, its avian head tilting.

Though the void in its vision obscured their true forms, it could still perceive the distortions, the ripples in causality where the laws of reality bent around the two intruders.

Archon scowled, teeth clenched. He had no patience for the daemon's musings.

Seizing his vox-unit, he barked a orders.

"Sixth Company! Report! What is your status?!"

Only silence answered.

Again, he tried.

Still silence.

Then, voice, cold and merciless answered:

"They're already ash. Don't worry, you and that thing are next."

Panic.

Archon felt his throat tighten.

His hands trembled as he turned to Ky'ei.

The daemon's expression darkened.

"You... and that thing are next?" Ky'ei's voice, usually laced with mocking amusement, now carried a tremor of unease. Its eyes, twin embers of malevolence, narrowed. "How could they know of my presence?"

The daemon's gaze bore into Archon.

"Did you tell anyone about me?"

"Do I look like an idiot to you?!" Archon snapped.

Ky'ei paused.

Then, it nodded.

"I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!" Archon roared, slamming his fists on the console. His voice cracked, uncertainty creeping into his rage.

It didn't make sense. How did they know of the fortress? How did they know he was here? How did they know Ky'ei was here?

Unless…

"We have a traitor."

Ky'ei's gaze drifted through the unseen strands of fate, following the threads.

"No... not betrayal. A xenos whispered to them. Your men are rare... true believers. Not one would turn against you."

Then, in an almost respectful tone, the daemon added:

"I must admit, Archon. You are nothing special. But to have gathered such loyal subordinates… Perhaps you had some talent after all. No wonder you were once Governor of three worlds."

Archon's face twisted in fury.

"DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE TIME FOR PRAISE?!"

His voice cracked, he was losing control.

The auspex screens flickered. Proximity runes flared red.

The intruders were close.

"Aren't you afraid?" Archon turned to Ky'ei, noticing its calm demeanor. "What if they burst in and kill you?"

Ky'ei turned, its beak curling into a wicked grin.

"I cannot be killed, only banished. Unlike other daemons, I am bound by the terms of my summoning."

It let out a mocking sigh.

"Frankly, I do not enjoy this. I would rather leave."

Archon felt his stomach drop.

This thing had never been his ally.

It didn't fear death.

It cared nothing for the outcome of this battle.

And now... it sought only release.

"Tell me your True Name!" Archon demanded. Desperation clung to his voice like oil on rusted steel.

"If I say it, I can kill you!"

Ky'ei's voice became mockingly melodious.

〈"ýëáÁ#ΡΜœΕψ…"〉

"STOP!"

Archon clutched his head as the words bled into his mind, burning like liquid fire.

"I CAN'T REMEMBER THAT!"

Ky'ei's laughter echoed through the chamber, a sound that gnawed at the sanity of mortals, hollow and endless.

"Even if you could, mortal... I don't have to tell you the truth. I can just make one up."

Archon froze.

His composure shattered. He fell to his knees, trembling as the daemon's talon lightly tapped his head.

A pulse ofamethyst energy seeped into him, his veins blackening, his flesh twisting, as Warp-madness consumed his mind.

His eyes burned with violet flame.

Until, footsteps.

The door shuddered.

Then, with the shriek of ceramite and adamantium, the doors burst open in a cataclysm of force.

"FOR THE LORD OF WISDOM!" Archon roared.

Clutching his power sword, he charged with unnatural speed.

The moment he stepped through the door, he was instantly crushed.

A graviton shield had activated.

Archon's body folded like wet parchment, crushed to pulp beneath the force.

Yoan stared at the mangled corpse beneath his boots.

"What in the name of the Throne was that?"

Qin Mo stepped through the wall, Aquila-staf in hand.

His gaze fixed on the avian daemon, its spectral form flickering with ethereal light and eldritch fire.

"Forget the corpse."

His grip tightened.

"Prepare for battle."