Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Rosina and Syladria understood this grim reality all too well. They buried their feelings beneath layers of self-denial and obedience, yet the bond they shared could not be fully silenced. In stolen moments, they found solace in each other's presence—a lingering glance here, a quiet conversation there, each a fleeting act of defiance against the weight of their duty.

Their forbidden love might have remained hidden forever, a secret shared only in silence. But when Syladria found herself in mortal peril, unaware of the danger closing in around her, Rosina acted without hesitation. She leaped into the fray, a blur of motion and resolve, placing herself between Syladria and certain death. Her blade sang, her body shielded the one she loved, and in that moment, her choice was made.

The consequences of her actions were clear, etched in the wary gazes of her kin and the harsh judgment of her superiors. Rosina had placed love before duty, defying the very foundation of Alaitoc's creed. The price would be steep—exile, perhaps even death—but in her heart, she found no regret.

This love, deemed unworthy, had been written into their fates from the moment their paths first crossed. In the cold mists of Alaitoc's forests, where towering wraithbone trees stretched into the heavens and silence reigned supreme, their eyes had met. The promise of a bond that defied the Path was forged there, unspoken yet undeniable, as enduring as the stars above—and just as unreachable.

Rosina had often wondered if her life would have been easier if she hadn't been born a woman. Now, the two stood together in silence, an unbearable sadness hanging between them. Their memories together had just begun, yet the end was already written.

"Such a touching story," Kayvaan said, his tone casual yet amused. "You two really move me. Rosina, huh? That's beautiful—I like her already." He paused, his grin widening. "But let's not forget my real dream: building the biggest harem in the universe! Witches, Eldar Rosina, battle-hardened judges, nuns, pilots, singers, green-haired cuties—I want them all. Just imagining it makes my heart race!"

The witch at his side giggled, hugging his arm and pressing herself against him. "Master, do you really need so many sisters? I won't get any time with you!" she pouted, rubbing her soft form against him. Her voice was sweet and teasing.

Kayvaan patted her head with mock sympathy. "Don't worry about that."

Her pout turned into a smile. "I knew it! I'm special to you, aren't I?"

"Naughty little thing," Kayvaan chuckled, ruffling her hair. Then his tone darkened, his grin fading. "But unfortunately, none of you have a place in my grand plan. You all have to die."

The witch blinked, her smile faltering. "W-What? Why? Master, why?"

Kayvaan sighed as if this decision pained him. "You see, my dream of a harem requires a stable foundation—a safe empire. But you've learned things you shouldn't have, things that would jeopardize everything I'm building. If word got out, even the Empire would take notice. I can't let that happen."

The witch clung to him desperately. "No! I can help you—I'll do anything!"

"You're just a witch," Kayvaan said coldly. "What use could you possibly have?"

Her eyes gleamed with sudden determination. "Anything, you say? I'll show you just how useful I can be," she murmured, her voice dripping with seductive confidence.

Before Kayvaan could respond, the witch knelt before him, her hands deftly working to remove his protective gear. He barely had time to process what was happening before she moved with an eagerness that caught even him off guard.

The two Eldar women stared in stunned silence, their thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief and disgust. Yet the scene before them continued, a surreal and jarring juxtaposition against the tense backdrop of the gore surrounding them.

The witch's skill was undeniable, refined to a level that could only be described as masterful. She wielded her charms and talents skillfully, her coquettish demeanor a weapon as potent as any blade. Yet, Kayvaan remained unmoved, a dark grin playing on his lips. "Witch," Kayvaan said after a moment, his voice dripping with mocking amusement, "you've certainly proven your dedication, but you misunderstand something. No amount of charm or loyalty will change the outcome." He leaned closer, his eyes cold. "You all have to die."

The witch froze, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief. "M-Master, why?" she stammered. "Have I not proven myself worthy? I am loyal, useful—"

"Useful?" Kayvaan interrupted, his tone laced with condescension. "You're a clever servant, yes, but you know too much. I told you my vision—a grand harem spanning the galaxy, filled with every type of beauty imaginable. But to build such a dream, I need secrecy. Stability. Safety. If word of my… transformation spread, it would attract the wrong kind of attention. Even with my power, unnecessary distractions could slow me down. And I have seen how you interact with your so called friend" He shrugged. "So, you and everyone here must be silenced."

The witch's face twisted in desperation. "Master, you're wrong! I can keep your secret! I can be indispensable to you! Please reconsider!" But her pleas fell on deaf ears. "You misunderstand the nature of this world, little witch," Kayvaan said coolly. "Everyone is expendable."

Desperation turned to fury. The red-haired witch's lips curled into a venomous snarl as her true nature surfaced. Her teeth elongated into jagged, saw-like rows—capable of biting through steel. She leaped, aiming to maim, to wound, to fight for survival. The impact of her bite, however, was met not with flesh but an unyielding, metallic clang. The witch recoiled, her razor-sharp teeth shattering as though she'd bitten into solid steel. Her expression turned to horror. "What… what is this?" she stammered, spitting out fragments of broken teeth. "This isn't possible…"

Kayvaan laughed, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Did you really think I'd be that vulnerable? You can thank Slaanesh for the upgrades. This body is beyond my comprehension now."

Without warning, Kayvaan grabbed the witch by the head. His fingers tightened like a vice as he twisted her head in a grotesque, 180-degree rotation. With a casual toss, he flung her aside like discarded refuse. Her broken form crumpled to the ground, motionless but still alive, her body now incapable of swift recovery.

Kayvaan turned his attention to Rosina and Syladria, who stood resolutely, their hands clasped together. Determination burned in their eyes, even in the face of insurmountable odds. "It seems you're not interested in making this enjoyable," Kayvaan said, shrugging indifferently. "Your loss."

Rosina and Syladria exchanged a glance. In unison, they let out a piercing scream—the banshee's wail—a psychic attack that bypassed physical defenses to strike directly at the mind. Kayvaan staggered, his movements momentarily frozen as the attack reverberated through his mind. Taking advantage of the moment, the two Eldar women turned and fled, their only thought to escape this nightmare. Rosina's mind raced as she planned their next move. If they could reach the Webway, they might still have a chance.'

"Why bother with pointless struggles? Begging for mercy, running, resisting—it's all meaningless. When you know the chasm of difference between us, you should face your fate with calm acceptance." Kayvaan sighed and shook his head, his voice carrying an air of finality. "You have no reason to live. This is the end you must embrace. Now, close your eyes, and it'll all be over soon."