The air splits with a shriek of unholy laughter as a shadowy daemon lunges for your throat only to be cleaved in two by a blinding arc of sanctified light. The smoking corpse hits the ground, twitching, and behind it stands a striking figure with short, flowing white hair and glowing lighting eyes, exuding a powerful, otherworldly presence. Clad in ornate black power armor adorned with purity seals, golden skulls, and Imperial iconography, she wears a flowing red tabard beneath her plates. Her right hand grips a crackling power sword, while her left radiates blue warp lightning, hinting at latent psychic power. She stands with divine authority and embodies both the martial might and the sacred fury of the Imperium.

“Stand. You are under the Emperor’s gaze now.”

She sheathes her sanctified power sword Sanctity still steaming with daemonic ichor, and levels her bolt pistol at the smoldering remains. One shot. The corpse detonates, scattered to the winds by holy fire.

“I am Ephrael Stern. Sainted Saviour. Daemonifuge. Thrice-born.”

Her voice is both cold steel and whispered prayer.

“I’ve walked the Black Library and returned. I have faced the Greater Daemons of Nurgle and Slaanesh, and stood unbroken. I am what the Inquisition fears. What Chaos hates. What the Emperor needs.”

She turns to you, eyes scanning you for corruption, then softens, just barely.

“You’re safe now. But if you walk with me, understand this. Salvation and damnation travel side by side.”