Daughter of Khorne - Danmachi Warhammer crossover

The air smelled of blood, and the scent was intoxicating.

Araveena Hellebrone inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment, allowing the heady aroma of the battlefield to fill her senses. There was something about it that made her feel alive—something primal and pure. The taste of blood on her tongue, the scent of the earth soaked in it—it all stirred a deep hunger in her gut. A hunger for the kill.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her elven blade glinting in the dim light of the early morning. It was still cool, the mist curling up from the earth, the silence before the storm heavy in the air. Khorne's warriors were ready—her comrades, bloodthirsty and eager. But they weren't the only ones. Ahead of them, the kingdom of Ares had gathered its own army—a ragtag force of soldiers, peasants-turned-warriors, and mercenaries, all bound together by a common cause: to hold their land from the approaching tide of Khorne's wrath.

The world was still, as if the very heavens were holding their breath. Araveena flexed her fingers around the hilt of her sword, anticipating the clash that would soon come. She had no love for Ares' kingdom, only disdain for their weakness. This battle, like all the others, would be a test—a way to prove who was truly strong.

And she, Araveena, was ready.

"Forward!" The command echoed across the battlefield, given by none other than Archaon, their leader. His voice rang out with the force of an avalanche, causing the entire Khorne Familia to move in unison. Every warrior, from the eliteChosen to the lesser fighters, began to march. The ground seemed to shake beneath their feet as the Khorne Familiaadvanced toward the enemy, the roar of their war cries shaking the earth.

Araveena's heart beat in time with the war drums pounding from behind. Each step forward made the ground tremble beneath her boots, and the excitement surged within her. She wanted the fight. She needed it. The need for blood, for skulls to adorn the throne of their god, was a craving that could not be ignored.

The horizon began to change. The thick fog of morning slowly lifted, revealing a decrepit village that lay between them and the army of Ares. Broken carts, burned buildings, and bloodstained fields were all that was left of a place once alive with activity. Ares' soldiers had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The Khorne Familia would carve them apart.

The first wave of Ares' forces was composed of disorganized infantry, mostly peasants with crude armor and weapons. But their desperation was apparent. They knew they were outclassed—they knew they were facing a force that had only one objective: to spill as much blood as possible. And as they charged forward, they screamed in fury, hoping their sheer numbers could make up for their lack of skill.

Araveena laughed. It was the sound of pure bloodlust—a voice that matched the violence within her. She swept her sword low, cutting through the air as if it were a living thing. It hummed with the energy of battle, and she could feel it—her sword calling for its first victim.

The first soldier fell.

The screech of steel as her blade cleaved into the side of his armor was so sharp it cut through the roar of battle. She twisted the blade, feeling the resistance of bone and flesh. His screams were choked off as his lifeblood poured out onto the dirt at her feet. His body crumpled, leaving her standing in a pool of blood. Without hesitation, she was already turning toward her next target. The hunger was alive in her. It was all she could focus on.

She darted forward, faster than any human could comprehend, her elven speed cutting through the chaos like a hawk diving toward its prey.

Another soldier tried to charge her from the left, swinging a halberd wide. Araveena's blade flashed as she parried the blow effortlessly, the halberd scraping off her armor with an ugly sound. Before he could make another move, she was upon him. Her blade sliced across his stomach, the force of the blow sending him stumbling back. Blood poured from the wound like a torrent, staining the earth beneath them.

He gasped, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he fell. She didn't care to watch him die. The battlefield was filled with enough blood to fill rivers, and she had no time for the slow, agonizing deaths of the weak.

She had more to kill.

At her side, Lakor, the towering figure with the spiked axe, was smashing his way through the Ares ranks. His swings were wild, yet calculated, each strike killing several soldiers at a time. His war axe was like a reaper's scythe, and every man who dared to face him was met with the end.

Araveena couldn't help but admire him for a moment, but there was no time to stand still. Be'lakor, the towering demon prince and one of the most dangerous creatures in their ranks, was nearby, tearing through the enemies with his dark sorcery and claws. Araveena could sense the dark magic swirling around him, making the air feel heavier, thicker. Yet, she didn't pay much attention to him. She had her own targets.

She continued her hunt, finding herself in the midst of the Ares army's front line, where the fighting had turned into a maelstrom of chaos. There was no room for strategy here—only instinct. She was a blade in the hands of Khorne, and every soldier who faced her would be another skull added to the collection.

But not all of them would fall easily.

From the rear of the enemy forces, a massive figure emerged—a hulking general clad in heavy black armor, his warhammer gleaming with deadly intent. He bellowed a challenge to the Khorne warriors, his voice thundering across the battlefield. His soldiers roared in approval, rallying behind their leader.

Araveena saw him and knew at once that he would be hers to kill.

With a fierce battle cry, she surged toward him, cutting down enemies as she went. The ground seemed to part beneath her as she gained speed, closing the distance between them. The general swung his massive hammer, the blow crackling with the force of thunder. It was a strike that would flatten a normal warrior, but Araveena wasn't normal. She was a chosen of Khorne, an elite warrior.

She was faster.

With a twist, she dodged the blow, barely feeling the wind of the weapon passing by. Her blade flashed in the air as she slashed at the general's side. The impact of her strike rang out as it struck his armor, cutting through metal with the ease of a hot knife through butter. His face contorted in pain as he staggered back, blood spilling from the wound she'd left.

But the general wasn't done. Fury burned in his eyes as he roared and swung his hammer again. This time, Araveena didn't dodge. She leapt straight toward him, her blade aimed for his throat.

The impact of her strike was shocking. The sound of tearing flesh echoed as her sword cut through his jugular, sending a spray of blood into the air. He choked, trying to hold his throat together with trembling hands, but Araveena wasn't finished. With a final, brutal motion, she pushed the blade deeper, severing his windpipe and sending his head spinning from his body.

It fell to the ground with a loud thud, its eyes wide in disbelief.

The battle was still raging, but for Araveena, it was almost over. The rest of the Ares forces were in full retreat, their will shattered by the overwhelming strength of the Khorne Familia. There was nothing left to do but collect the spoils.

Araveena surveyed the field around her, her chest heaving as the adrenaline of battle began to fade. Victory was theirs, but it came at a cost. The bodies of the fallen littered the ground, twisted and broken in every conceivable way. The air was thick with the stench of blood, and the cries of the dying filled the air.

"Victory," she muttered to herself, a dark smile crossing her face. She could hear the sounds of Khorne's warriors celebrating, roaring with approval. The skulls were being gathered, and the blood was being offered to the god of war. Araveena had claimed her part of the bounty, her elven blade stained with the blood of the enemies of Khorne.

But her thoughts lingered on one thing—one word: More. The hunger for battle had only grown. The war against Ares' kingdom was far from over. And in her heart, Araveena knew that this was just the beginning of a much greater war.

The skulls of Ares' soldiers would feed Khorne's throne, but there were still so many more to claim.

The battlefield, with its carnage and suffering, was a reflection of the true nature of war. And Araveena would be at the center of it all, a true daughter of Khorne, the blood god, ready to spill more blood, take more skulls, and carve her name into the annals of history.