Warhammer: Echoes of Divinity
Chapter 106: The Theory of Daemons

"The corruption has not yet been fully purged."

With Ky'ei banished, Qin Mo turned sharply, his stride purposeful as he moved deeper into the fortress. The cold stone walls loomed overhead, their surfaces etched with the scars of battle and the lingering taint of the Warp.

Yoan followed, puzzled.

Another daemon? Here?

"Yoan."

Qin Mo's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"I'm here." Yoan quickened his pace, stepping alongside him.

"What you saw just now was a daemon."

Qin Mo continued walking as he explained.

"Daemons are not mere monsters. They are entities of the Immaterium, shaped by thought, will, and the raw emotions of mortals. They are living echoes of lust, despair, bloodlust, and more, each a reflection of our darkest impulses given form and purpose. Some are little more than mindless predators, driven by insatiable hunger. Others are ancient and cunning, weaving schemes that span centuries."

His voice darkened.

"A few... bear names that chill the hearts of even the bravest Astartes, names that can shatter sanity and twist reality itself. To some, they are myths. To others, they are the whispers behind madness, the shadows lurking just beyond the veil. They are not of this reality, yet they hunger to manifest within it. Some call them Spirits of the Warp, others by different names. But what you call them doesn't matter."

Yoan swallowed hard. He had seen mutants in the underhive, fought gangers who pledged their souls to unseen masters. But those had been men, twisted, yes, but still human. This... this was different. This was wrong.

"Even the weakest daemon is dangerous. They do not die as men do. When their bodies are destroyed, they are banished back to the Warp, but they are never truly gone. So long as belief, fear, and bloodshed persist, they can return. And they always do."

Qin Mo pressed on. "They are difficult to bind or banish, yet not beyond our capacity to counter."

Then, he began listing examples: From legends of Thousand Sons sorcerers who, through fell sorceries, could reduce a daemon to scattered fragments, ensuring it could never reform unless those shards were painstakingly gathered and reforged.

To the nature of daemonhosts, where a mortal soul could be fused with Warp entities, serving as vessels to contain them. Some exist in a nightmarish symbiosis, their souls trapped alongside the daemon's will.

Others are reduced to nothing more than hollowed-out puppets, their identities erased by the entity within.

Some are even willing, fools who believe they can harness such power, only to be consumed by it.

He explained everything in detail, ensuring that Yoan understood the true nature of the enemy.

However, Qin Mo did not mention the use of True Names to banish daemons.

For one, learning a daemon's True Name was nearly impossible.

For another, he didn't know any True Names himself.

And even if he knew one, by some miracle, reciting one in battle was impractical.

A certain Grey Knight once chanted a True Name for over an hour while exorcising a daemon.

Most people would be dead long before they finished the first syllable.

"I always thought daemons were just stories."

Yoan's voice trembled with disbelief, even beneath the cold ceramite of his helmet.

His gauntleted hands tightened around his weapons.

He had believed in monsters. He had fought in the underhive against mutants and cultists, seen horrors that would break most men.

But daemons? The idea unsettled him.

He had always believed that daemons were myths, fabrications meant to scare children.

"I used to tell my daughter that if she misbehaved, a daemon would take her away."

Then, a thought struck him.

"My daughter…"

His breath caught in his throat.

"She's a Blank. Like me."

Qin Mo nodded.

"Blanks are rare. Their condition is nearly impossible to pass down genetically. The Imperium has even attempted to replicate them through cloning, but such experiments have met with only abject failure."

"Many despised her," Yoan admitted quietly. "Even as a baby, they feared her."

Qin Mo offered no further comment.

He would not force Yoan's family into service.

This man had already done enough.

That was enough.

"This won't be the last daemon you encounter."

Qin Mo's voice was firm.

"You will face more. You will fight more. I am powerful, but I cannot be everywhere. I need you."

Yoan listened intently before, after a long pause, asking, "May I… ask a question?"

Qin Mo inclined his head. "You may."

"If daemons are spawned from the Warp and formed by the collective beliefs and faith of mortal souls" he hesitated before continuing, "does that mean they have Gods?"

Qin Mo's response was immediate and unambiguous

"Of course. The Dark Gods are ever-present. They corrupt through insidious whispers, through forbidden desire, through the very needs of mortal hearts. The stronger a soul's presence in the Warp, the more likely it is to attract their attention. And once ensnared, they do everything in their unholy power to claim it."

Yoan stood still for a moment.

He had always believed in monsters.

But he had never thought about the gods that made them.

"You are aware of the Champion of Blood incident."

Qin Mo continued, his tone somber.

"You know of 'Heavy Hammer.' He was a great man. A righteous man. Yet even he was not immune to the insidious corruption of the Warp. He did not kill for pleasure. He killed to cull the weak. And in the end, he was lost to that all-consuming taint."

Yoan stiffened.

Qin Mo's voice remained calm.

"Even the Deacon David, the man you executed was not spared the touch of corruption."

Yoan felt a cold fear settle in his chest.

He wasn't afraid of daemons.

He wasn't afraid of fighting them.

He was afraid of becoming one.

Of waking up one day, twisted beyond recognition.

"Fear not."

Qin Mo studied him.

Then, he spoke plainly.

"Every person in this system is at risk of corruption. Except me. And except you. You are a Blank. A soulless one. If even you could be corrupted. Then we are all doomed."

Yoan exhaled slowly.

"Good. I am willing to bear this burden to its bitter end."

Qin Mo smiled faintly.

"That daemon was summoned. Someone prepared the unholy ritual to breach our reality. We're going to find them."

His grip tightened around the Aquila-staff.

"And we are going to burn every trace of the heresy that allowed them to summon that daemon."

Yoan nodded.

"Understood."

....

In a darkened chamber, deep within the fortress.

A bound figure lay upon an iron slab.

The sorcerer.

The architect of Ky'ei's summoning.

His body was ruined: flesh burned, bones shattered and skin flayed away.

Yet, he smiled.

Because he had won.

He had deceived Archon. He had made him sacrifice his beloved daughter.

He had watched as the mighty Governor trembled, hesitated, wept.

And in that suffering, he had found joy.

Even now, as his blood pooled beneath him, he laughed.

His bones rattled against his chains as he convulsed in ecstasy.

"You know… the Governor loved his daughter."

His voice was weak, yet laced with a sinister glee.

"A rogue trader once sold him an artifact. A relic of the ancients. A device that halted aging. There was only one. And he bestowed it upon her."

He laughed, a sound both maddening and mournful.

"Oh, how he suffered. The hesitation. The regret. The PAIN! Truly, my masterpiece!"

His laughter escalated into a howl as he choked on his own blood.

Then, the door was torn away.

Qin Mo and Yoan stepped inside.

The sorcerer, though barely clinging to life, did not flinch.

He was not afraid.

He did not beg for his life.

Instead, he offered them a wan, unhinged smile and spoke in a tone dripping with deranged conviction

"You understand, don't you? The beauty of suffering? The art of despair? The perfection of pain?"

Qin Mo punched him.

His jaw shattered instantly.

"I don't care about Archon. Tell me where you kept the summoning materials."

He twisted his hand, the sorcerer's flesh warped, bones snapping as his mouth was forced back into place.

The heretic laughed again.

"So much joy. So much, accomplishment."

Qin Mo's patience was gone.

But, he could not feel any trace of Warp-tainted relics.

That was… odd.

Unless, the ritual had used nothing from the Warp as catalyst at all.

But that was impossible.