=== Nameless Grey Knight ===
The nameless Grey Knight felt the transition before he saw it.
One moment, he was on solid ground, the scorched and blood-soaked battlefield of reality, filled with the thunder of bolters and the roar of daemons. The next, the air twisted into madness. Every step through the portal tore at his soul, his vision fracturing into colors and shapes that could not exist in any sane universe.
He fell through eternity, through screaming light and churning void, and then…
His boots slammed against something that resembled ground, though it was made of no substance he could name. The surface rippled underfoot, whispering words in languages that predated stars. Around him, his brothers landed in disciplined formation, each one having done this a thousand times before this.
Behind them, the portal to reality flickered, a single gleaming wound in the fabric of the Warp. Its light was weak and shrinking.
"Lock it down!" came the command over the vox, Kaldor Draigo's voice a thunderous beacon in the madness.
Without hesitation, every Grey Knight raised his hand. Runes along their armor flared to life. Incantations were spoken. Silver wards burned into the very essence of the Immaterium, forming a massive lattice of sanctified power.
The ground screamed as the holy symbols took hold. A great dome of argent fire rose around them, sealing the breach.
"No daemon passes this point," Draigo intoned, voice like a cathedral bell ringing through infinity.
The nameless Grey Knight joined his voice to the chorus of oaths, each vow of faith strengthening the bulwark. And then, silence.
He turned.
And saw Her.
Abeloth rose above the landscape of madness like a living nightmare, her body was a writhing ocean of pale tendrils and faces that shifted between beauty and monstrosity. Her presence was everywhere, filling the air, seeping into his armor, whispering promises of release, of purpose, of love twisted into hunger.
The Grey Knight tightened his grip on his Nemesis Force Halberd and began to recite the Canticle of Absolution.
But even his faith strained beneath her presence.
Her laughter rolled across the Warp, a sound that wasn't sound at all, but a ripple of emotion, joy, and hatred blended into one. The ground shuddered. The light dimmed. And from the void, the daemons came.
They poured toward the Grey Knights in endless waves, bloodletters, plague fiends, shrieking horrors, all howling in fury at this intrusion of sanctified order. The Warp itself convulsed around them as the daemonic hordes charged.
The nameless Grey Knight braced.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
The host roared as one, and silver met shadow.
The Warp ignited.
Blades of psychic flame carved through daemons like paper. Each strike of a Nemesis weapon seared the air, each invocation of holy wrath burned another swath through the hordes. Bolters barked, the sanctified shells detonating with bursts of white fire that consumed rather than destroyed.
The nameless warrior swung his halberd in wide, sweeping arcs, each motion guided by centuries of training and the steady hum of faith. His armor glowed like molten silver, each rune defying the screaming madness that pressed upon him.
Around him, daemons died by the hundreds.
But still, Abeloth ascended.
Her scream deepened, her body expanding, stretching until her upper form blotted out what passed for a sky. From her core erupted tendrils of living madness that struck the ground like divine lightning, crushing several Grey Knights in their wake.
He stumbled as a wave of raw psychic power slammed into their ranks, flattening dozens, tearing others apart. His auto-senses screamed warnings as his armor's systems struggled to compensate.
"Hold!" Draigo bellowed, his voice an anchor in the storm. "HOLD THE LINE!"
The Grey Knight drove his halberd into the ground, channeling every drop of willpower into the barrier that still held behind them. His brothers beside him did the same. Together, their power became a wall. Their conviction burned like the heart of a dying sun.
Abeloth's power washed over them, her wrath, her despair, her endless hunger. And yet they did not break.
The Grey Knight lifted his gaze. Above, he saw Kaldor Draigo standing on a ridge of warped stone, the Titansword raised high, its light defying the darkness itself.
"Brothers!" Draigo's voice echoed across the field, magnified by the power of the Warp itself. "The Emperor watches! Hold this beast until He comes to finish what was begun!"
The host roared in answer.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
The Grey Knight sprinted through a storm of psychic fire, leaping onto the back of a shrieking daemon prince, plunging his halberd through its chest and channeling sanctified flame until the creature detonated in a burst of etheric gore.
Others fought beside him, locked in perfect unison, blades and hammers cutting arcs of holy light through waves of corruption. Together, they pushed forward, climbing the very tendrils of Abeloth's form, striking at the goddess of madness herself.
Every impact of their weapons tore away a piece of her, burning away her essence with righteous fury. Yet for every wound they dealt, she regenerated anew, her laughter now shrill and hateful.
The nameless Grey Knight reached the base of one of her vast limbs and drove his halberd into it, channeling his soul through the weapon. His armor's systems screamed under the strain, but he did not stop. Others joined him, plunging their blades into her form, each strike flaring like a miniature sun.
Abeloth screamed, a wail that warped reality itself.
The Warp convulsed, daemons dissolving into vapor under the shockwave, even as the ground beneath the Grey Knights splintered and reformed into grotesque shapes. Still they fought, unyielding, their silver armor glinting through the storm of unreality.
The nameless Grey Knight's thoughts dimmed to one word, one purpose.
Hold.
Not for victory. Not for glory.
But for the Emperor.
He looked up through the maelstrom, through the chaos that consumed the sky, and for just a moment, just long enough for faith to kindle anew, he thought he saw it: a light descending from beyond the veil, brighter than any star, vast and patient and terrible.
The Emperor was coming.
And until that moment arrived, the Grey Knights would hold the line, no matter the cost.
=== Sebastian ===
The first thing Sebastian felt was warmth.
It was not the burning heat of war, nor the searing pain of plasma or fire, but something deep, calm, and radiant. It enveloped him entirely, flowing through every fiber of his being like sunlight pouring into his very soul.
He opened his eyes.
The world around him was gold. Not the dull hue of metal or coin, but living gold, light made solid. It stretched endlessly in every direction, a horizon of brilliance that shimmered like a sea made of sanctity itself. The air was still, yet alive, humming with quiet song, like the echo of a million distant choirs praising a name older than time.
He looked down and saw himself… whole.
His chest, once torn open by the abomination's tendril, was unscarred. His arm was no longer Beskantium. His body was unmarred by wound or age, his muscles restored, his hands strong and steady. The black ceramite of his armor was gone; he stood clothed only in a simple tunic, his skin bare to the warmth of this impossible realm.
He reached up and felt his face, where the metal plates and glowing optics had been, and found only flesh.
He looked up, and before him stood Him.
The Emperor.
Sebastian's hearts stopped.
No words could describe the being before him. The Golden Man shone with a light that could unmake stars, yet it was not harsh or blinding. It was perfect. Every line of His face, every strand of His long hair, every motion of His form radiated divinity. He was majesty made flesh, the embodiment of all that was pure, just, and eternal.
Sebastian's lips trembled. His knees buckled.
He fell to the ground, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his forehead into the radiant floor. His voice failed him. Only the sound of his sobbing filled the silence.
"...My Lord… My God-Emperor…"
He could not bear to look upon Him.
But then, the voice came.
Soft and Infinite.
"Oh, my faithful servant," said the Emperor, each word vibrating through reality itself, yet tender as a whisper. "I have not forgotten you. I have not turned My eyes from you."
Sebastian choked. His weeping grew louder.
He pressed his forehead even deeper into the radiant floor, clutching at it as though it could anchor him against the tide of emotion threatening to break him apart.
"My Lord…" he gasped between sobs. "I am… unworthy. I failed You… I failed my brothers…"
The Emperor moved slowly.
The sound was like a star shifting in the heavens. Golden light rippled across the world as He knelt down next His servant.
Sebastian dared to look up.
The Emperor's eyes were like twin suns, endless in depth and meaning, filled with a love and sorrow that no mortal could comprehend. His hand extended, radiant and flawless, reaching out to the kneeling warrior.
Sebastian hesitated. His own hand shook.
He dared not touch the divine. He was filth, a weapon forged of flesh and faith, a blade that had broken.
"Take My hand, son of Dorn," the Emperor said softly.
With trembling reverence, Sebastian obeyed.
Every scar on his soul was mended in that instant. Every burden lifted.
He rose, slowly, still weeping.
The Emperor stood with him, His golden eyes fixed upon Sebastian's face.
"Your service has been long and unwavering," He said. "You have bled for Me, suffered for Me, and given all that you are for My Imperium. Few have done so with such devotion."
Sebastian swallowed, unable to speak.
"You stand now at the threshold," the Emperor continued, gesturing to the endless golden expanse. "You may remain here, in My light, and know peace. You may rest among your brothers who have found their eternal reward. You have earned this, My faithful Servant."
The air shifted. Behind the Emperor, Sebastian could see vague shapes, towering warriors of light, their outlines familiar. Those who had died centuries ago, their spirits radiant and whole. They watched in silence, smiling, hands resting on the hilts of their spectral swords.
He saw a man standing among them, one who had served the Black Templar himself, but who had died.
His second in command smiled, but gave a simple shake of his head as if telling Sebastian it wasn't his time to join them.
The peace that radiated from them was indescribable.
But the Emperor was not done.
"Or," He said, His voice deepening, "you may turn back from here. You may return to the mortal plane, to the battlefield of Mortis, and continue your Crusade. If you choose this, you will not return as you were. You will rise anew… as My Champion. My vessel of wrath and purpose."
Sebastian froze.
To return?
He looked out at the golden plain again. It was so peaceful. No pain. No fear. No hatred. Just light, and love, and eternal rest.
And yet…
In his heart, he saw Maximus and Raxor. The Obsidian Crusaders. His brothers still fighting. Still dying.
He saw the daemons flooding through the portal, the madness consuming all. He saw more portals opening, belching out new horrors as the Grey Knights pushed forward through the main portal.
He could not rest while they still drew breath, while Kharath's ritual was still going on.
Sebastian turned back to the Emperor, tears still glistening in his eyes.
"My Lord," he said, voice breaking. "If I may speak…"
The Emperor inclined His head.
Sebastian took a deep breath.
"I cannot stay here while my brothers fight below. I cannot watch from paradise while they bleed. Send me back, my Emperor. Send me back to Mortis. Let me fight until my body breaks, and then let me fight still."
The Emperor regarded him in silence. Then, slowly, He smiled.
It was a smile that could ignite galaxies.
"Your choice was never in question, my faithful servant."
He raised His hand, and the golden world trembled.
Light gathered around Sebastian's form, coiling around his arms, his chest, his hearts. His tunic turned black, forged into armor by pure radiance, the armor of the Black Templars Indomitus Pattern Tactical Dreadnought Armour, yet more ornate than any other Terminator plate. His Darksaber appeared in his grasp, its blade burning brighter than ever before.
(Image here)
"Rise, son of Dorn," the Emperor intoned, His voice rolling across eternity like thunder over creation.
The ground shook. The air itself bowed.
"Take up thy Blade of Black Flame," He commanded, the Darksaber roaring to life in Sebastian's hand. "And Crusade endlessly in My name!"
Sebastian raised the blade, its edge reflecting the infinite gold around him.
The Emperor's eyes glowed brighter than the sun.
"Go, my servant!" He said softly, His voice filled with warmth and command alike.
The light exploded.
Sebastian felt his soul torn upward and then downward, through realms of brilliance and darkness alike.
The last thing he heard was the Emperor's final whisper:
"And lo, even death shall bow before the faith of the Templar."
===
The corpse of the Black Templar stirred.
A pulse of golden radiance rippled outward, burning away the filth and corruption around him. The twisted earth trembled as cracks filled with molten gold spread outward from the epicenter. The ruined armor, shattered ceramite and torn adamantium, began to shift, melting and reforming as though shaped by unseen divine hands.
Sebastian drew in a sharp, ragged breath. His eyes flared open, burning with golden fire.
For a moment, all was still. The battle beyond seemed distant, as though the galaxy itself held its breath. Then, with a low growl of effort, the warrior rolled to his side and planted one gauntleted fist into the soil. The motion was heavy, every muscle fiber humming with holy vigor. The earth cracked beneath his strength as he pushed himself upright, one knee pressed into the scorched ground.
Sebastian exhaled slowly, reverence in every motion. He rose to his full height, the light of his rebirth casting long shadows across the ruin-strewn plain. He turned, scanning the battlefield, the still-smoking husks of tanks, the shattered ruins of daemon corpses, the wounded earth itself.
The Emperor's words still echoed in his mind.
"Rise, son of Dorn. Take up thy blade of Black Flame, and crusade endlessly in My name."
To the right of the massive portal where the Grey Knights had vanished into the heart of madness, the air began to twist again. A smaller, circular rift tore open, its edges crackling with azure lightning and gold fire. Reality itself screamed as another to the left followed, identical in size, but filled with crimson stormlight and shadow.
The ground shook violently.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. He shifted his stance, planting his feet as the winds of the warp battered against him, his cloak snapping like a banner in a hurricane.
The portals stabilized, their surfaces rippling like mirrors of liquid light. Shapes began to move within them. Indistinct. Massive.
Sebastian lifted his shield and sword, bracing himself.
"By His Will…" he murmured, his voice carrying over the howling storm. "I shall not yield."
The light from the portals flared, bright enough to drown the sun.
And the newly risen Son of Dorn stood, The Emperor's Champion clad in blessed Terminator plate, was ready to meet it head-on.
===
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