Warhammer : Machinist and The Exile

The lunar plain trembled under the wrath of demigods.

Guilliman and Magnus clashed once more — titanic figures silhouetted against the roiling warp rift overhead.

Ceramite met warp-forged staff, each blow sending shockwaves across the battlefield. Guilliman's blade burned bright with azure light, arcs of power trailing each swing.

Magnus snarled, his cyclopean eye blazing with fury and frustration. While a master of sorcery, the Crimson King was no equal to his brother's relentless melee precision. Every strike from the Avenging Son forced him back, ichor like boiling glass hissing from fresh wounds.

"You cannot win this, Magnus!" Guilliman roared, his voice carrying over the din of battle.

"I have already won, brother!" Magnus spat back, deflecting a brutal overhead arc. "The Imperium bleeds, the Rift still grows. All you do is delay the inevitable!"

Guilliman's next strike hammered Magnus's guard aside, staggering the Crimson King.

That was the moment Seiji had waited for.

From the debris-strewn ridgeline, Seiji gave a sharp hand signal. A coded vox pulse followed, and the Shinobi assault groups — long poised for this opportunity — struck like shadows made flesh.

[Shinobi — move!] Seiji ordered on encrypted comms.

Fifteen Sealing Corps Shinobi formed a ring around Magnus, raising their wrist-mounted EFA units.

Threads of spectral light fired from the emitters, weaving into adamantium-reinforced chains that lashed around the traitor Primarch, tightening with every heartbeat.

From concealed positions, scores of Shinobi operatives poured forth — matte-armored figures ghosting through the ruins. Battle Shinobi wielding monomolecular blades and silenced rail carbines cut down daemonic stragglers, securing a blood-soaked perimeter around the sealing formation.

"Apology, Lord Primarch, for interrupting your duel," Seiji said as he dropped down beside Guilliman.

"It was my burden… but the Imperium cannot afford pride. End this." Guilliman frowned, chest heaving as he readied himself to strike again if needed.

At Seiji's flank, Naon knelt beside the ancient sealing box — a squat construct of adamantium etched in sealing runes and parchment seals, each thrumming with caged power.

"Form up!" Naon shouted.

Magnus howled in rage, his wings beating psychic fire against the tightening chains. The bindings shuddered but held.

"Do you think this can bind me, insects?!" Magnus bellowed.

"Bind you? No," Naon hissed through gritted teeth. "But enough to buy time."

Ultramarine Honour Guard surged forward alongside the Shinobi, Grand Master Voldrus at their fore, his daemon hammer gleaming with runes of banishment.

Three Zakus pivoted outward, their machine cannons raking a final wave of warp-beasts, obliterating them before they breached the line.

Naon took a steadying breath, sweat pouring down her brow. Thirty Sealing Corps psyker-shinobi, linked by psychic conduits, channeled their strength into her, weaving threads of power into her form. Naon's body flared with blinding light, arcs of energy crackling around her.

The adamantium sealing box floated forward, levitated by combined psychic might. Its runes pulsed brighter with each passing moment.

"Naon!" Seiji's voice cut through the comms. "Now!"

Naon stepped forward, arms raised, warp and reality distorting around her. Her voice, amplified by will, defiance, and ancient rite, tore through the howling wind.

"MAFUBA!"

A spiraling vortex of light burst from her palms, snaring the chained Magnus. The Crimson King roared, his form dragged toward the hungry seal. Warp lightning arced around him, but the chains held fast.

"No! You will not bind me—!" Magnus's defiant roars as he fight the force.

His sorcerous essence lashed out, severing two chains — but the rest reinforced by Voldrus's invocations and the combined strength of Shinobi and Honour Guard holds.

With a final shriek, Magnus's massive form distorted, compressing into a howling sphere of light, then was pulled into the heart of the adamantium box. The runes blazed like miniature suns.

"Containment phase!" Naon commanded.

Ten Shinobi surged forward, slamming new sealing tags onto the container. Golden ink shimmered as runes sizzled, locking the traitor Primarch's essence away.

Naon dropped to one knee, blood trailing from her nose. The thirty channeling Shinobi collapsed in unison, either unconscious or utterly drained.

"Medic shinobi, move!" Seiji barked.

Sleek-armored medics with red crescent insignias darted from cover. In swift, precise movements, they stabilized the fallen, administering stimulants and affixing warp-suppression talismans.

Around them, silence fell.

Daemon legions still battled elsewhere, but around the sealed box, even the air seemed to still, reality settling into uneasy calm.

Guilliman lowered his blade.

"It's done," he murmured.

From afar, Fateweaver watched. Both his heads twisted with fury and cold resignation.

"One in one hundred and twenty-four million," one head hissed.

The other spat in frustration.

"The anomaly triumphs."

Warp-light flickered around him as he tore open a rift with a clawed hand.

"Another time, Avenging Son," Fateweaver snarled. In a blink, the Lord of Change vanished into the warp, unwilling to face the anomaly's rippling consequences.

Surviving Sylandri Veilwalker and Harlequins troupe, bloodied and grim, observed in ritual stillness. Their Masque leader raised a hand in flourish.

"The opera concludes," the Harlequin shadowseer intoned.

Seiji approached Naon's kneeling form, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I told you we wouldn't break," Naon rasped, her lips quirking in defiant triumph.

"You didn't," Seiji said, pride in his tone despite his impassive mask.

Guilliman approached them both.

"Seiji. Naon. you and your forces have done what none believed possible. Hold that seal. Reinforcements will secure this position — Terra andMars will demand answers… but they can wait. i will make sure of that..."

High above, on the bridge of the Phalanx, commanders watched the the exiles war machines in cautious awe.

"This… these machines… the scale, the coordination...., the efficiency…" one Battlefleet Solar captain murmured.

An admiral swallowed hard.

"Maintain observation. These are either saviors… or the most dangerous enemy the Imperium's will ever see."

Guilliman cast one final look skyward as Luna's bloodied surface turned underfoot.

"This war isn't over," he whispered. "But we just gained a fighting chance."