Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Kayvaan, cloaked in a camouflage shroud, led the way. His multi-functional goggles were set to low-light mode, allowing him to see every detail of the steps beneath his feet, from their cracked masonry to the thin layer of dust that coated them. His movements were silent, blending seamlessly into the shadows, but his unease grew with every step. Something was wrong. 

Kayvaan stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal the group behind him. The Battle Sisters, armed with shock mauls and searchlights, halted a few meters back, their weapons at the ready. A beam of light swept across the staircase, illuminating Kayvaan as he emerged from the shadows. "Elizabeth," he called out, his voice steady. "Something's not right here."

Elizabeth approached, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you stopped? This place reeks of Chaos, and Serapheas are lurking in every shadow, hungry for fresh blood. Did you just now notice? Your remarkable insight never ceases to amaze me."

Kayvaan narrowed his eyes. "Are you okay, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth's breathing was labored, her pale face ghastly under the harsh beam of the flashlight. "I-I just had a small auditory hallucination," she stammered, forcing a weak laugh. "It's nothing. An old issue. No need to worry."

Two of the Battle Sisters accompanying her subtly shifted their stance, positioning their weapons for a potential threat. Another Battle Sister adjusted her position, clearly ready to shield Elizabeth if needed. The maneuver didn't escape Kayvaan's notice. 'How could I not be tense?' he thought, suppressing a grimace. The situation was spiraling fast. While cursing his misfortune internally, he understood that ignoring the issue would only make things worse.

Elizabeth was an Inquisitor—and a psyker. Most Inquisitors trained in psychic powers were adept at maintaining control, constructing mental fortresses to fend off Serapheaic influence. But psykers were never entirely safe. They were like pressurized gas tanks—useful, yet dangerous if mishandled. Even among the rigorously trained, the risk of corruption was never zero. The Ordo Malleus taught its operatives to monitor psykers closely and act decisively at the first sign of possession. If Elizabeth's condition worsened, her own retinue wouldn't hesitate to execute her. The tension among the Sisters was palpable; two were ready to fire, while one stood prepared to shield her.

Kayvaan swallowed hard, weighing the likelihood of internal conflict. They'd barely entered the dungeon—what if their first fight wasn't against Chaos, but among themselves? "What exactly did you hear?" he asked cautiously.

Elizabeth shivered, her voice trembling. "Chewing. Like bones being crushed. Something gorging itself. And… cries. Women and children, terrified, drowning in despair."

"Elizabeth, focus!" Kayvaan snapped, his voice firm but steady. "Don't let it get to you. Remember your training. Calm your mind, check your defenses. This is Chaos trying to worm its way in. You've faced worse—you can fight this."

"I know," she whispered, nodding shakily. "I'll be fine. The Emperor protects." Her voice steadied as she began a breathing exercise, each inhale and exhale measured and rhythmic. The oppressive atmosphere of the spiral staircase seemed to hold its breath as Elizabeth worked through the psychic disturbance. Moments later, she opened her eyes, her composure restored. "I'm fine now," she declared, her tone cold. "My apologies for the trouble, Commander Kayvaan. There's something very wrong with this city—not just Chaos. Something unique affected me." She hesitated, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. "Thank you for noticing. If you hadn't…"

"No thanks needed," Kayvaan replied tersely. "Let's focus on staying alive. Something's definitely wrong, and I don't mean just psychically. What did you see before?"

Elizabeth gave him a faint, approving smirk. "Is this a test? Always cautious, aren't you? Admirable." She swept her gaze across the staircase, her sharp eyes catching details most would miss. "This city's ruins are ancient—tens of thousands of years, if not more. But…" She ran her fingers along the railing, brushing off a thin layer of dust. "This dust is fresh. No more than a week old."

Kayvaan frowned, breaking off a section of the wooden railing. "That doesn't add up. Wood like this should have rotted away centuries ago. Instead, it's as solid as newly-made furniture. Whatever Gustav told us about this city was surface-level guesswork. He barely scratched the surface, literally. His intel isn't reliable—we'll need to tread carefully."

Elizabeth nodded, still examining the dust. "Could it be a stasis field? Something keeping the city in temporal suspension?"

"No," Kayvaan said after a moment's thought. "If time was frozen, we'd be affected too. And who would use that kind of technology to keep dust off furniture? I've never heard of anything like this." He tossed the wood fragment aside and shrugged. "Maybe someone cleaned up recently. Either way, it doesn't change our mission. We move forward, stay sharp, and deal with whatever we find."

With that, he stepped into the darkness, his cloak blending into the shadows. The team followed, the clinking of armor and distant echoes the only sounds accompanying their descent. The descent lasted three hours, the spiral staircase seeming endless. Finally, they reached the fifth level. Kayvaan pushed open a small, unassuming door. What lay beyond wasn't a continuation of the staircase but an entirely different world.

As the door creaked open, the sight before them was surreal. Instead of ancient ruins or decayed halls, they were greeted by a sprawling cityscape. The streets were paved with concrete, flanked by rows of dim streetlights. Skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their silhouettes outlined by flickering neon signs. A pair of black vintage cars stood parked along the street, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the glowing lights. Pedestrians in sharp suits passed by, casting brief, curious glances at Kayvaan and his group before hurrying on their way. Neon signs overhead blinked intermittently, their crimson glow illuminating the shocked expressions of the party. The pulsing red light gave the illusion of their faces appearing and vanishing in the dark.

Kayvaan froze, an absurd thought creeping into his mind. 'Could this be the United States of the 20th century?' He immediately shook the idea off and turned to glance back at the door. Beyond it was still the long, spiraling staircase they had descended. No, they hadn't somehow teleported. His gaze shifted upward toward the "sky." Instead of stars, it was a dome of swirling clouds, lit sporadically by flashes of lightning. The rumble of distant thunder echoed through the city. But Kayvaan's trained eyes saw the truth—it was a projection. The sky was nothing more than an elaborate screen, simulating the oncoming storm.

Amid one of the lightning flashes, he caught a glimpse of towering structures piercing through the false clouds, connecting what seemed like different layers of the city. The colossal architecture was reminiscent of the mythical Tower of Babel, serving as a passage between the upper and lower levels. "What is going on here?" Elizabeth muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Blocks of buildings, streetlights, cars… pedestrians?" She paused, visibly struggling to reconcile the scene with reason. After a moment, she composed herself, though her tone was still incredulous. "What kind of underground ruins is this!?"