The combination of pink and chocolate-brown tones gave her the appearance of some kind of...
Oh, forgive me, Cegorach, for such a shameless comparison.
A dessert.
A very sweet dessert.
Considering the Aeldari woman's flawless figure, albeit one still somewhat unfamiliar to my old human sensibilities, the comparison became even more...
Ahem.
Then again, getting used to the slightly different biology of my fellow Aeldari was only a matter of time. Yes, anyone from my native Earth who had seen both species standing side by side would never mistake an Aeldari woman for a human.
But you know what, gentlemen of the future Ordo Xenos?
In this insane universe, where humanity itself possesses countless subspecies ranging from Squats to Ogryns, the Aeldari somehow stopped looking particularly unusual.
Well...
I was beginning to understand exactly what that famous chef had found so captivating about his Aeldari wife.
I understood completely.
And the best part?
Nobody could even call it heresy yet.
Not for a very long time.
The concept of heresy, at least in the sense familiar to the future Imperium, didn't even exist. Quite the opposite. Many surviving human civilizations descended from the old Human Federation coexisted peacefully with alien species.
That wouldn't truly change until the Great Crusade.
And after the Horus Heresy, when the religion of the God-Emperor emerged and transformed xenophobia into official doctrine.
For now, however, before the ancient psyker permanently seated himself upon his Golden Throne, he would personally kick the teeth out of anyone foolish enough to start a religion in his name.
Killing Mockery closed her eyes in obvious satisfaction before spreading her hands with the faintest hint of a smile. I was finally beginning to understand why she had been given that name after her Rebirth.
That mocking smile of hers was genuinely amusing.
As for the killing part...
There was no need to elaborate.
I still remembered that battle against the daemons. I remembered how effortlessly she had driven her blade into the eye of a Daemon Prince.
Not a particularly powerful one, admittedly.
Still.
The memory remained impressive.
"Fine, fine."
I waved a hand dismissively. Every Harlequin was a world-class troll, and feeding trolls had rarely been a productive endeavor. Throughout history, the most reliable strategy against them had always been complete indifference.
"If I end up dead or trapped forever in Trazyn's collection, don't blame me."
I shrugged carelessly and pretended to lose interest in the Aeldari woman.
And...
It worked.
Apparently, the ancient warrior-comedian had taken the bait.
I almost found that surprising.
Then I remembered which universe I lived in.
After that, her behavior felt perfectly normal.
This was a galaxy where supposedly wise and experienced individuals routinely made spectacularly ridiculous decisions.
Killing Mockery fit right in.
Someone tugged at my sleeve.
I looked down.
The shorter Aeldari woman was staring at me with intense concentration.
Studying me.
Evaluating me.
Then, with deliberate determination, she began pulling me toward one of the countless corridors branching away from the Heart of the Black Library. Without releasing my sleeve, she left me with little choice but to follow. For someone noticeably smaller than me, she possessed an alarming amount of strength, enough that freeing myself would have required actual force.
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Soon, she led us into one of the countless cubic training chambers scattered throughout the Black Library.
Oh, how many times had I personally polished the floors, walls, and ceilings of rooms like these with my own body?
Truly embarrassing times for one red-haired Aeldari.
I didn't like that look.
Not one bit.
Although her intentions were perfectly clear.
If I lacked the experience necessary to communicate without words, then I simply needed to acquire that experience.
Furthermore, before venturing into the lair of a potential enemy, partners should understand one another's abilities firsthand rather than relying solely on written reports.
Only then did another realization strike me.
Cegorach had never actually specified when we needed to appear before the ancient Necron.
It was entirely possible that the meeting could wait another century or two. For both Trazyn and us, such a span was practically insignificant.
I had completely overlooked that detail.
A hundred years old and still an idiot, as the saying went.
I'd have to pay closer attention to what people actually said in the future.
Especially when those people happened to be gods.
"Message received."
I nodded.
Together, we approached the chamber wall. At our touch, sections of it slid aside, or rather, appeared to pass directly through one another like ghosts. A display rack emerged from within the structure, fashioned from the same black material as the room itself and holding an assortment of training equipment and practice weapons.
The weapons still hurt.
Quite a lot, in fact.
But they wouldn't sever limbs or destroy eyes, and everything else could be healed without much difficulty.
Without hesitation, I selected the standard Harlequin equipment along with a training version of the Harlequin's Kiss.
A touch from it counted as a kill during sparring.
The real weapon, on the other hand, discharged almost instantly in actual combat, unleashing its monofilament wires in fractions of a second.
My second choice was a training variant of a fusion pistol.
Compared to the genuine article, it resembled a civilian stun weapon beside a military firearm.
Swordsmanship...
Well, I had trained extensively with blades as well.
But the years had passed too quickly for me to completely abandon my subconscious preference for firearms. Pistols simply felt more natural, and if an opponent managed to close the distance, the Harlequin's Kiss could solve that particular problem quite effectively.
My partner and bodyguard selected only a practice version of the slender psychic sword she wielded with almost divine mastery.
Nothing else.
That alone made me wary.
Then she smiled.
Did I really need to explain why that expression immediately triggered every danger instinct I possessed?
Tensing instinctively, I waited.
Twenty seconds.
That was the traditional delay before a Harlequin sparring match officially began.
The instant it expired, I fired several rapid shots.
At fifty meters, fusion weaponry wasn't particularly effective against heavily armored targets.
Lightly armored ones, however, were an entirely different matter.
Naturally, my opponent couldn't have cared less.
It became immediately obvious that she had sparred against users of similar weapons countless times before.
She predicted each trajectory before I even fired.
The direction of my hand alone told her everything she needed to know.
She didn't even activate her holo-suit.
Instead, she dodged with movements so impossibly elegant that they inspired admiration rather than tactical analysis.
"Tch."
The sound escaped me as she abruptly closed the distance.
Her heel whipped toward my chin during a spinning somersault.
I lunged forward, slipping beneath the strike, only to receive an infuriating, albeit harmless, kick squarely in the rear.
A moment later, we were both back on our feet.
I used successive shots to force evasive maneuvers, slowing her advance just enough for me to charge in myself.
The tip of the Harlequin's Kiss darted toward her.
She flowed aside effortlessly.
Her body bent with liquid grace as one hand caught my arm.
She avoided another shot.
Then she pulled my captured arm against her chest and...
Introduced the upper side of her foot to my face.
With considerable enthusiasm.
I snapped my head aside and finally activated my holo-suit, using its shifting distortions to escape the relentless barrage that followed her successful attack.
It saved me.
For a moment.
Then she began adapting.
Rapidly.
The shifting colors and fractured images generated by my holo-suit gradually stopped confusing her.
What made it even worse was that she was clearly enjoying herself.
Even while maintaining a relentless offensive composed of dozens of strikes from impossible angles, effortlessly dodging my attacks while avoiding both the Harlequin's Kiss and every pistol shot, Killing Mockery continued to wear an amused smile.
Against all logic...
It was rather cute.
She possessed an undeniably beautiful face whenever she smiled and mocked her opponent.
Which, of course, made it yet another weapon.
Harlequins adored dirty tricks.
Infuriating their opponents until they descended into Khorne-like rage ranked among their favorite tactics. Blind hatred rarely benefited anyone except Orks and perhaps psykers.
Though even that came with complications.
So I simply sighed.
Then smiled back.
A heartbeat later, I dropped into a split, narrowly avoiding a rapier thrust aimed directly at my thigh. The strike came so quickly that even enhanced Aeldari vision struggled to follow it.
Fortunately, I could still see enough.
Enough to move the endangered limb out of harm's way.
And enough...
To fire directly at Killing Mockery while she remained fully committed to the attack.