Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Infernal Duel
As Skarbrand pushed through the Circle of Indolency, he could feel its effects trying to pull him back into its grasp. The heavenly choirs and perfumed seas called out to him, tempting him to give in and let himself be consumed by their seductive allure. But with his wife's voice as his guide, he fought on, his willpower bolstered by the memory of her love and the sacrifices they had made together.
The lone and level sands that crunched underfoot were a reminder of the countless souls who had fallen prey to the Circle's charms. But Skarbrand refused to join them, his axe cleaving through the vines and thorns that sought to trap him. He pressed on, his senses heightened and his focus unbreakable, until he finally reached the gate of Slaanesh's palace.
The skies above the gates of Slaanesh were dark and foreboding, with tendrils of shadow stretching out like clawed fingers across the heavens. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sulphur, as the forces of Skarbrand made their final assault on the realm of the Prince of Pleasure. His army consisted of the greatest warriors of Khorne, who had been driven into a frenzied state of bloodlust by the proximity of their greatest enemy.
As they charged forward, Skarbrand felt a sense of allusion to the many battles he had fought in the past. The cries of his fallen comrades echoed in his mind, their ghosts urging him forward to avenge their deaths.
Skarbrand himself was at the head of his horde, his massive axes held high above his head, like twin symbols of death. His eyes burned with a fiery rage that could incinerate even the strongest of warriors, and his wings were spread wide, casting a shadow over the battlefield like a dark omen.
As they approached the gate of Slaanesh, they were met by the army of the Prince of Pleasure. Demons of all shapes and sizes swarmed towards them, their bodies twisted and contorted by the perverse pleasure that their god offered them. The air was filled with their manic laughter and the sounds of their sharp claws and teeth as they prepared to attack, like a choir of madness singing a hymn to chaos.
At the front of the demonic horde was N'kari, the Keeper of Secrets. He was the most powerful of Slaanesh's servants, and his very presence filled the air with an intoxicating aura of pleasure and pain, like the scent of a deadly flower that lured its prey to their doom. His slender frame was adorned with jewellery and precious stones, like a temptress dressed in her finest garb, ready to seduce any who crossed her path. And his eyes were like pools of molten gold, promising riches beyond measure, but at a terrible price.
Skarbrand and N'kari locked eyes, and there was a tense silence for a moment. Both knew that the battle that was about to take place would be legendary and that the outcome would shape the future of their respective realms, like a cosmic game of chess where every move counted. Skarbrand was the embodiment of Khorne's wrath, a force of pure destruction that left nothing but blood and ash in its wake. And N'kari was the embodiment of Slaanesh's pleasure, a force that promised ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension but at the cost of one's soul.
The clash of their ideologies was like a clash of titans, their weapons ringing out in a symphony of violence that echoed across the battlefield. Skarbrand's axes were like twin beasts unleashed, tearing through the ranks of the demonic horde with savage ferocity. And N'kari's blades were like serpents, striking with lightning-fast reflexes and leaving behind a trail of blood and agony.
Their duel was a dance of death, a battle that transcended the mortal realm and became something more, something epic. Every swing of their weapons was like a stroke of destiny, every blow landed was a triumph or a failure. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sulphur, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and the sky was darkened by the smoke of battle.
The clash of steel and flesh continued, the battlefield awash with the blood of the fallen. Skarbrand and N'kari were like two forces of nature, each determined to prove their worth in the eyes of their gods.
Skarbrand's axes whirled through the air like twin tornadoes, their deadly edges cleaving through the demons of Slaanesh with ease. His rage burned like an inferno within him, driving him forward even as the wounds on his massive frame grew more numerous.
N'kari, meanwhile, moved with a fluid grace that was both hypnotic and deadly. His lithe frame was a blur of motion, his blades flashing like moonlight like the tongues of serpents. His laughter echoed across the battlefield like the tolling of a bell, a siren song tempting Skarbrand to his doom.
But Skarbrand was not so easily swayed. His will was as unyielding as his axes, and he refused to be distracted from his goal. With a roar of fury, he charged forward, his massive wings beating the air with ferocious power.
N'kari met him head-on, his blades flashing in the moonlight as he parried Skarbrand's blows with lightning-fast reflexes. The two warriors circled each other once more, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills.
N'kari moved with a grace and elegance that seemed almost supernatural, his blades flashing in the moonlight as he darted in and out of Skarbrand's range. He feinted and parried with ease, his lithe form slipping through the gaps in Skarbrand's defences with the agility of a cat. Skarbrand, on the other hand, was a raging inferno, his dual axes cleaving through the air with a deafening roar. The sheer force of his blows threw back the demons of Slaanesh, but N'kari proved to be a match for Skarbrand's wrath.
The two warriors clashed in a deadly dance, each strike ringing out like a peal of thunder. The battlefield was a stage, and they were the only actors, their every move watched by the dark gods of Chaos. Skarbrand's diction was simple and to the point, filled with rage and fury. N'kari, in contrast, spoke with a silken tongue, his words like honey on the tongue. They circled each other like predators, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. This was more than a fight to the death. It was a battle of ideologies, a struggle between the embodiment of Wrath and the embodiment of Desire.
As the battle raged on, Skarbrand began to feel a creeping sense of unease. He had faced many foes in his long life, but none had ever matched him blow for blow like this. He could feel N'kari's power growing with each passing moment, an allusion to the fact that the Keeper of Secrets was being fed strength by his patron deity.
With a mighty roar, Skarbrand surged forward, his axe raised high above his head. N'kari met him head-on, his blades flashing as he parried Skarbrand's blows. The two warriors were so close that they could feel each other's breath on their faces, their juxtaposition a stark contrast of light and dark, fire and ice.
For a moment, it seemed as though Skarbrand had the upper hand. His massive axe swung down towards N'kari's slender form, and the Keeper of Secrets seemed unable to move in time to avoid the blow. But at the last moment, N'kari twisted aside, his body contorting impossibly as he evaded Skarbrand's attack. It was as if he was dancing to a tune that only he could hear.
The battle raged on, each warrior using every trick in their arsenal to gain the upper hand. Skarbrand's axes sang through the air with an onomatopoeic "whoosh," while N'kari's blades hissed and whispered as they sliced through the air.
Skarbrand stumbled, his axe striking the ground with a deafening crash. It was as if he had fallen from grace, his mighty form reduced to that of a mere mortal. N'kari seized the opportunity, launching a flurry of attacks that Skarbrand was barely able to defend against. His blades cut deep, leaving jagged wounds in Skarbrand's flesh, and the Keeper of Secrets cackled with pleasure as he landed blow after blow. It was a dance of death, and N'kari was the master.
Skarbrand roared with rage, his wings beating the air with such force that it seemed as though they might rip from his back. He was like a beast, driven by primal instinct and the desire to destroy. But desire has never burned so hot as wrath, and N'kari saw swift defeat.
He surged forward, his axe flashing as he swung it with all his might. But N'kari was too quick, and he danced aside, leaving Skarbrand's axe embedded in the ground. With a mocking laugh, N'kari launched himself at Skarbrand, his blades flashing in the light. Skarbrand was forced to defend himself with all his strength, his massive wings beating the air as he desperately tried to stay on his feet. It was a battle for the ages, one that would be remembered for centuries to come.
As the battle raged on, the two warriors seemed to merge into a single entity, their movements so fast and fluid that they appeared as a blur of motion. It was like watching a hurricane, the sheer force of their power threatening to tear the world asunder.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, and the sounds of their battle echoed across the battlefield. For what seemed like an eternity, the two warriors fought on, neither able to gain the upper hand. But finally, with a final surge of power, Skarbrand landed a blow that sent N'kari reeling. It was a moment of triumph, a moment that seemed to herald Skarbrand's victory.
But victory is often fleeting, and N'kari was not so easily defeated. He spun on one foot, his blades flashing as he parried Skarbrand's attack. It was a move that caught Skarbrand off guard, and he stumbled backwards, his axe slipping from his grasp. It was like watching a god fall, his power suddenly snuffed out.
The two warriors circled each other once more, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Skarbrand could feel the power of Khorne coursing through his veins, and he knew that this was his moment to claim victory. But victory is often a fleeting thing, and it was not to be his this day.
N'kari met him head-on, his blades flashing as he parried Skarbrand's blows with lightning-fast reflexes. The two warriors clashed again and again, their weapons ringing out in a symphony of violence that echoed across the battlefield. It was like watching two titans clash, the very earth shaking with the force of their blows.
In the heat of battle, the clash of steel and the roar of fury echoed across the battlefield. Skarbrand and N'kari circled each other like two beasts ready to pounce, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Skarbrand's massive axes glinted in the moonlight, a deadly testament to the power of Khorne that coursed through his veins.
N'kari was no ordinary opponent. The Keeper of Secrets moved with a lithe grace that belied his deadly intent, his blades flashing in the moonlight like silver serpents. Skarbrand had faced many foes in his time, but none quite like N'kari.
Their battle raged on, each warrior determined to emerge victorious. Skarbrand's rage burned like wildfire, his desire for blood and carnage a palpable force that seemed to fill the air around him. N'kari was no less determined, his movements fluid and graceful as he evaded Skarbrand's deadly blows.
But N'kari was a creature of deceit and cunning, and he knew that victory was within his grasp. With a sudden burst of speed, he darted forward, his blades flashing as he landed a flurry of blows on Skarbrand's body. Skarbrand staggered backwards, his massive wings beating the air as he struggled to stay on his feet.
For a moment, it seemed as though N'kari had gained the upper hand. But Skarbrand was not so easily defeated, and with a fierce roar, he surged forward, his axe swinging in a deadly arc. N'kari met him head-on, his blades flashing as he parried Skarbrand's attack with ease. The two warriors circled each other once more, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills.
Skarbrand's rage burned hotter with each passing moment, his desire for blood and carnage reaching a fever pitch. He swung his axes with wild abandon, determined to end this battle once and for all. But N'kari was always one step ahead, twisting and contorting his body in ways that seemed impossible. N'kari's blades were a blur, striking out at Skarbrand with lightning-fast reflexes.
Skarbrand was beginning to tire, his massive wings beating the air in a desperate attempt to keep him aloft. But still, he fought on, his axe swinging in deadly arcs as he desperately tried to land a blow on N'kari
N'kari felt the heat of Skarbrand's rage emanating from him like a scorching sun. It was as if Khorne himself had possessed the Bloodthirster, fueling him with an insatiable desire for bloodshed. N'kari knew he was in trouble as Skarbrand launched a final assault, his dual axes slicing through the air with a ferocity that made even the bravest of warriors tremble.
Their weapons clashed like a symphony of steel, ringing out across the battlefield. N'kari's lithe form moved with impossible agility, dodging and weaving through Skarbrand's relentless attacks. But even the Keeper of Secrets could not withstand the unbridled fury of the Bloodthirster forever.
With each strike, Skarbrand's axes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. N'kari could feel their power, a palpable force that threatened to overwhelm him. He was reminded of the ancient myths of the Titans and their colossal weapons, and he wondered if Skarbrand had somehow tapped into that same divine power.
As the battle raged on, the two warriors became locked in a deadly dance. Their movements were fluid and graceful, like a pair of expert dancers performing a complex routine. But beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of violence, a primal urge that drove them forward with an almost animalistic intensity.
N'kari was impressed by Skarbrand's ferocity, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the Bloodthirster's relentless assault. He tried to stay calm, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of foreboding, as if some unseen force was watching their battle and waiting for the right moment to strike.
The sound of their weapons colliding echoed across the battlefield, a constant drumbeat of violence that drowned out all other sounds. N'kari could feel the vibrations of each impact reverberating through his body, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before one of them slipped up.
Skarbrand's dual axes sliced through the air like twin comets, crashing into N'kari's body with a force that sent him hurtling backwards. N'kari could feel the world spinning around him as he landed with a dull thud, his body wracked with pain. As he lay there, helpless and defeated, N'kari couldn't help but wonder if this was all a part of some grand allegory.
Skarbrand stood over him, his massive axes raised high above his head. N'kari braced himself for the final blow, but as Skarbrand swung his axes down, something strange happened. N'kari's face transformed into Skarbrand's beloved wife, It was a cruel twist of fate, and it brought Skarbrand unimaginable pain to see his wife's face on his fallen enemy, her gentle features contrasting sharply with the blood-soaked battlefield.
It brought Skarbrand pain as he saw his wife's face. The face that he cherished so much and missed every day. For a moment, he hesitated, his axes hovering in the air as he struggled with the memories that flooded his mind.
But then the moment passed, and Skarbrand's wrath burned hotter than ever. With a fierce roar, he swung his axes down once more, determined to claim victory.
Skarbrand's victory over N'kari had been a turning point in the war against the demonic horde. With his army emboldened by his ferocity and strength, they pushed forward towards the gates of Slaanesh, the embodiment of lust and desire.
As they drew closer, the stench of corruption and decay grew stronger, a putrid aroma that seemed to seep into their very souls. Skarbrand could feel the weight of the battle pressing down on him, the exhaustion of countless battles weighing heavily on his muscles and bones.
But he pushed on, driven by a fierce determination to rid the world of the demonic taint that had infected it. His dual axes whirled through the air, cleaving through the ranks of demons with a deadly precision.
The battle was fierce, and the demon horde seemed to be without end. But Skarbrand and his army fought on, their weapons flashing in the darkness as they pushed towards the gates of Slaanesh.
As they drew closer, Skarbrand could feel the power of the Dark Prince pulsing through the very air. It was a palpable force, a writhing mass of desire and longing that threatened to overwhelm him.
But he refused to be defeated. With a fierce roar, he charged towards the gates of Slaanesh, his axes raised high above his head.
The gates loomed before him, a massive wall of twisted metal and writhing flesh. Skarbrand could hear the whispers of the Dark Prince, his seductive voice urging him to give in to his desires and join him in eternal damnation.
But Skarbrand refused. With a fierce determination, he swung his axes with all his might, the blades cleaving through the twisted metal with ease.
The gates shuddered and groaned, their massive hinges creaking under the force of Skarbrand's blows. And then, with a deafening crash, they fell.
Skarbrand could hear the pounding of his heart in his chest as he charged through the gates of Slaanesh, his dual axes glinting in the light of the realm. He had been waiting for this moment for centuries, dreaming of the day he would finally face the Lord of Pleasure himself. And now, finally, it was here.
As he raced through the halls of the palace, Skarbrand saw a glimmering pot sitting on a pedestal. It seemed to be beckoning him, its whispered words sending shivers down his spine. He could feel the power emanating from it, a power unlike any he had ever known. And yet, something about it made him uneasy.
Skarbrand hesitated for a moment, his instincts warning him of the danger ahead. But he could feel the power of Khorne surging through his veins, urging him forward. He knew that he had to take the risk, that the rewards of the pot were too great to ignore.
As he approached the pot, a voice inside his head warned him of the danger ahead. But Skarbrand was not one to be easily deterred. He reached out a hand, grasping the pot firmly. And in that moment, a blinding flash of light engulfed him.
He felt a surge of power coursing through his veins, filling him with an energy he had never known before. It was as if he had become one with the very essence of Khorne himself. Skarbrand screamed, a primal cry of victory and fury. He had never felt so alive.
But as quickly as the power had come, it vanished. Skarbrand was thrown backwards, his body slamming against the wall. He felt the darkness closing in around him, and then everything went black.
In the darkness, Skarbrand was filled with visions of his beloved wife, a woman he had loved more than life itself. It shows that a purple light had taken her as she disappeared with a flash of light.
Skarbrand awoke back in the realm of Khorne with skulls piled under him.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Valentino_666
Valentino_666 Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Like it ? Add to library！
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
Here is another chapter thank you for the collections and for adding it you your library. Please continue to support this book!
Bye!
From Valentino
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone