Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Kayvaan adjusted the single-lens goggles on his forehead and scanned the dark streets outside with infrared and thermal optics. Nothing moved—not an enemy, not even a stray animal. The world beyond the window was eerily still, the silence pressing down like a weight.

Satisfied with his inspection, Kayvaan walked into a room where the Sisters had made camp. The nuns had scavenged and burned old furniture to light a bonfire in the center of the room. The flames cast flickering shadows on the cracked walls, giving the space a semblance of warmth. Elizabeth sat alone by the fire, staring into the flames. "You're wasting your energy on unnecessary tasks again," Elizabeth said with a sigh, her gaze never leaving the fire. "My Sisters are completely reliable."

"They're exhausted," Kayvaan replied. "I was just doing a routine check. It doesn't mean I distrust them."

"As long as they live, they're trustworthy," she said, her tone even. "These are Sisters of Battle, warriors of faith. You should know that by now."

Kayvaan waved off the remark. "It's just habit. Let's drop it. How's the Eldar's progress?"

Elizabeth gave him a sidelong glance. "What outcome are you hoping for? That they succeed easily, or that they struggle like us?"

"It's complicated," Kayvaan admitted. "Of course, I want them to succeed. But if they breeze through this, it'll be trouble for us in the long run. daemons don't give up easily."

Elizabeth's expression didn't change, but her tone grew sharper. "Well, you'll be pleased to know they're struggling. Their progress matches ours. They're preparing for their final battle, just like we are."

Kayvaan caught her meaning immediately. The Eldar, masters of stealth and subterfuge, should have made faster progress. Their rangers could vanish in broad daylight, let alone under the cover of darkness. For their pace to match his team's, it meant their battles had been far more intense. "So, the final battle approaches," Kayvaan said with a small grin. "Feels like a gamble now. Who gets the grand prize?"

Elizabeth didn't share his amusement. "The Eldar don't see it that way. They're divided over their approach. Some think we should launch a probing attack to see if Rosina is among the altar's guardians. If she's there, they'll support us. If not, we're to disengage and regroup for a coordinated strike on their target."

Kayvaan shook his head, a grim smile on his lips. "That's not strategy. That's gambling, and the house always wins. Rosina could manipulate the situation, leading us to attack the wrong target or spread our forces too thin. daemons are masters of deception. Even the vaunted Eldar have fools among them, it seems."

Elizabeth's voice turned cold. "Their hesitation stems from fear—fear of Rosina and the Chaos God she serves. I can sense it in their psychic energy; it trembles like a flame in the wind."

Kayvaan's expression softened, though his words were blunt. "Fear, huh? That's an emotion I envy."

Elizabeth gave him a puzzled look. "Why envy fear?"

Kayvaan leaned back, his voice unusually reflective. "Space Marines are engineered to be fearless. Everyone thinks that's a blessing, but it's not. Without fear, there's no bravery. True courage is standing against an enemy that terrifies you, conquering the dread in your heart, and fighting anyway. That's what makes a warrior admirable—not their ability to kill, but their ability to overcome themselves. But for Astartes, fear is chemically stripped away. Our bravery isn't genuine—it's artificial, the product of genetic engineering and conditioning. There's nothing noble about it. We perform acts of valor, but we're not truly brave."

Elizabeth stared into the fire, her expression blank as the golden flames danced. The flickering light reflected across the room, creating a rhythmic play of light and shadow. Yet, Kayvaan's sharp eyes caught the silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Large droplets fell one by one, glistening as they hit the ground.

Kayvaan froze. Panic crept into him—not the kind he faced in combat, but a different, unfamiliar kind. He wasn't afraid of Elizabeth as a psychic-powered Inquisitor. Even in life-or-death situations, he could steel himself against her. If it came to blows, he trusted his own skills implicitly. But this? Facing a woman, even one as formidable as Elizabeth, quietly crying? He had no idea what to do.

Her beauty complicated things, though he couldn't say if it truly mattered in this moment. The sheer helplessness of the situation overwhelmed him. What was he supposed to say? Why was she crying? Was it something he said? He didn't know.

Faced with this uncharted battlefield, Kayvaan would have gladly taken an enraged Elizabeth swinging a chainsword at him. At least he could handle that. "Uh... Did I say something too harsh earlier?" Kayvaan asked awkwardly, his voice stiff.

Elizabeth didn't respond. She continued staring at the fire, tears falling silently. The silence stretched, becoming unbearable. After a moment's hesitation, Kayvaan decided to do the only thing he could think of: apologize. It didn't matter if it was his fault or not. "Look, if I said something out of line, I'm sorry. I—"

"It's not your fault," Elizabeth interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's me. This place… it's strange. It's been gnawing at my defenses, poking at things I thought I'd buried. Normally, I can suppress it all—memories, doubts, emotions. But here… they keep surfacing. And I can't stop it."

She paused, her voice trembling as she continued. "You were right. I failed once, at a critical moment. It wasn't the daemon that defeated me—it was my own fear. I was terrified. I froze. I wanted to run. And that failure…" She covered her face with her hands, her voice breaking. "I feel so ashamed. So… ashamed." Her shoulders trembled as she cried openly now, her usual composure utterly shattered.

Kayvaan remained silent, unsure of how to respond. He simply stared into the fire, letting her vent her emotions in peace. After some time, Elizabeth wiped her tears with the back of her hand and chuckled bitterly. "You must think so little of me," she said, her voice returning to its usual cold, detached tone. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kayvaan found her familiar demeanor comforting. "I don't," Kayvaan said plainly.

Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard by his answer. "What is this? Cheap sympathy?"

"I don't do sympathy," Kayvaan replied bluntly. "If I thought less of you, I'd say it. But I don't. How you feel, what you struggle with—it's not my business. Our relationship starts and ends on the battlefield. Once this is over, I hope never to cross paths with you again. You're an Inquisitor. I'm sure you're used to that sentiment."

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, I am. Neither the Inquisition nor the Sisters care about such opinions."

Kayvaan's tone remained brutally honest. "If you face the battlefield with a death wish, it only helps me. You'd fight harder, recklessly even, and that would increase our chances of victory. And if you fall, it wouldn't matter to me. I don't waste words on comfort, and I don't care to make you feel better. I'm just telling the truth."

"Do you have to be so honest?" Elizabeth asked, exasperated.