Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 116: The Offering
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 20:33:45 +0000 UTCIn the words of the greenskins: “I reckon red-skinned daemons are just a bunch of things especially made for WAAAGH!”
This Khorne daemon, ignoring the burning backlash of the First Flame that might have annihilated its projection entirely, now strode forward with its jagged fanged battle-axe once its stone-like body had fully solidified. Its scarlet flesh radiated a cruel sense of ritualistic sanctity as it chanted praises to the Blood God.
“Hound of the Blood God…”
In her past life upon the Wall of Despair, Maria had fought against endless legions of Khorne’s daemonic host. The sight of this Chaos daemon stirred countless fragments of memory: the snow-swept Northlands, humanity’s desperate stand, the unyielding blood-battles.
Facing the bloodlust radiating from this daemon of Chaos, Maria tilted her head in scorn.
“Even those who have nothing still cling to faith, and this faith shall carry me unto death.”
The blade sang, steel trembling with a noble, unyielding spirit. Silver arcs flared as her sword’s edge hummed in the air, dazzling like molten metal and shaking the enemy’s courage.
The daemon’s bull-like eyes widened in approval at hearing her whispered prayer.
Good. This was the spirit he sought—battle to the bitter end!
Let them fight, let them duel to the death before the Brass Throne, pleasing the Blood God who gazed down upon all life and death.
“Damn, this wasn’t in the plan…” muttered the Black Coat, watching the battlefield shift in an instant. The red, horned daemon radiated power that could not be ignored. As commander of the field, he had to make a decision.
He was no soft-hearted man, nor were the penal soldiers of Military Intelligence. Yet this crimson daemon was revolting in every fiber—its power, its words, its very existence. Humanity could feel the primal malice in it.
It was an enemy of mankind itself—more wicked than any faction of evil.
“Skulls for the Skull Throne!”
The jagged battle-axe came down in a brutal cleave, the sound of tearing cloth echoing like a trigger for bloodlust. Its raw power was matched by Maria’s graceful skill. She let the momentum of its strike carry her back two steps, silver light tracing a parry in retreat.
BOOM!
The axe slammed into the ground like a bombardment. Maria darted forward with a sudden leap, her left hand flashing with black light as she slashed mercilessly toward the daemon’s eyes.
Squelch!
Blood sprayed as her blade carved across flesh. The daemon tilted back, barely saving its eyes, but its face was split by a bleeding gash.
The Lord of Skulls cared not from where blood or skulls came. If his servants were weak enough to be slain, then that was their sin. Yet for warriors who fought with fearless valor, Khorne always granted his favor—allowing them to grow stronger, to spill more blood.
Fury. Bloodlust.
The daemon’s blood boiled into a suffocating red mist. This haze could turn mortals into beasts of slaughter, and Maria inhaled it before she could react.
What…?
Her pale face flushed crimson, blood rushing hot in her veins. Before she could regain her senses, a colossal fist smashed into her, hurling her across the ground like a cannon-shot.
“Faithless wretches! Who among you dare swear to abandon the tools the gods have gifted? Who among you dare claim you would not rejoice in the holy wrath when it descends?”
The daemon advanced step by step, voice mocking, as though taunting the Black-clad Nun for suppressing her true nature.
Maria’s crimson eyes grew misty, her breath ragged, her flushed cheeks betraying a dangerous allure of surrender. Her heart hammered wildly. The blood mist was no poison—for her, it was a boon.
The pure, boiling blood of Khorne!
The daemon had seen it: the repressed bloodthirst in her frail human frame. The Blood God’s indifferent gaze lingered on her with curiosity. This was his offering.
“Arrogant fool!”
Her eyes flashed with feral cruelty. Rather than retreat, Maria lunged headlong into the swinging axe, even at the risk of being torn in half.
The serrated edge ripped across her waist, biting deep into flesh, tearing a gaping wound. But in return—her blade surged upward like lightning, shearing through the daemon’s grip and severing five fingers in a single stroke.
“Ungh.”
Its reaction was slow. Blood poured from its mangled hands; the axe slipped, impossible to wield as before. And from Maria’s strike, a strange blood-energy seeped into the daemon, corroding flesh and soul alike.
Curious… cold, tainted blood. Not the blood of Khorne’s blessed, but something else. The true-blood of Cainhurst, never before seen by such a creature.
For the first time, curiosity outweighed bloodlust.
“Would you offer this blood to my Lord? You know he is master of all things, shepherd of life and death. Unbeliever, hear me—your debts to the Almighty are vast indeed.”
Maria’s abdomen gaped wide, organs visible, blood soaking her robes. The wound knit slowly, paling her complexion once more. She sneered at the daemon’s words.
“Absurd arrogance. My blood? Let him come take it himself.”
Her sword rang, steel singing with the purity of her spirit, bright as her soul.
“The Blood God scorns this offering. He will not kneel for it, nor pray for it, nor weep for it. Yet as the greatest of the gods, to accept it is his right by law and nature.”
The daemon’s furious eyes, for the first time, showed the gravity reserved for speaking to an equal.
Comments
Jaren475
This'll be exciting, it would seem
