Warhammer [555-557] (Patreon)

Chapter 555: A Ferocious Battle in Space, A Body on the Verge of Collapse

The two didn't waste words. They clashed again: the Sword of Death against the Chaos Demonblade.

High above the skies, two figures collided at supersonic speed. Each exchange tore open the boundary between reality and the Warp, detonating terror in the heavens.

It was as if the whole sky roared and split apart, turning black and violet. Many mortal soldiers dropped to their knees, praying to the Emperor.

Fulgrim's daemonic wings thrashed wildly behind him, violet Chaos energy coiling around him like boiling poison fog. Wherever his blade swept, reality was torn and left with pink-violet corrosive scars. The Alien Empera, by contrast, was like an ebon war-god, the Empera Blade wreathed in annihilating dark matter—every strike carried cosmic oppression.

Where the edge passed, space twisted and collapsed; even light could not escape that abyssal darkness.

Fulgrim suddenly accelerated, his form becoming a violet afterimage as the daemonsword lunged at the Alien Empera's throat from a vicious angle.

But the Dark Emperor reacted faster. The black blade parried with precision. Two utterly different dark energies collided, detonating a deafening thunderclap. Shockwaves swept for kilometers, shredding the cloud layer.

At the instant the two divine weapons met in the upper air, the warning world's atmosphere was ripped open into a vacuum vortex thousands of kilometers wide.

Where the sword-light passed, space was hewn into a pitch-black rift. One of Fulgrim's daemonic wings was severed, and he was forced into a rapid plunge.

Just before impact, he flipped, skidding twin furrows hundreds of meters long with his feet.

The Alien Empera followed like a meteor, descending with his blade aimed at Fulgrim's skull.

Fulgrim bared his teeth in a snarl and raised the daemonsword to block. When the forces met, the ground for a kilometer around collapsed with a roar, and the shockwave leveled the surrounding ruins.

Fulgrim's blade twisted and morphed, becoming a roaring serpent of violet energy that sank its fangs into the Alien Empera's wrist.

The Dark Emperor snorted coldly, seized the serpent's neck with his left hand, and unleashed dark energy, crushing the Chaos construct to pieces.

Fulgrim seized the opening and thrust at the Alien Empera's heart. But the other's speed was greater—the Empera Blade whipped back at an impossible angle.

The ebon sword-light carved a perfect arc, not only nullifying Fulgrim's attack but also rending a savage gash across his chestplate. Chaos blood sprayed.

High above, the battle raged on. Each collision warped the heavens; thunder tangled with darkness, Chaos danced with destruction. Fulgrim's assault grew more frenzied, his blade splintering into countless afterimages, while the Alien Empera unraveled them one by one with absolute dark power, counterattacking relentlessly.

Chaos power and dark energy slammed together. Fulgrim's serpent pupils contracted. He snapped his wings to withdraw, left hand conjuring a pink-violet hellfire orb that he hurled hard at his foe.

The Alien Empera neither dodged nor flinched. Black-red lightning burst from his palm, black and crimson energies grappling.

Dark energy and Chaotic divinity erupted in midair. The entire warning world began to tremble. If this continued, the aftershocks alone might destroy the whole planet.

Some mortals were already at their limit. If not for the Emperor's avatar shielding them, either dark power or Chaos might have warped them into mutants on the spot.

Seeing this, Rhodes immediately ordered the Alien Empera—to take Fulgrim into space to fight.

"But, master, if we battle in outer space, I can't be sure I can keep him pinned. He might escape," the Alien Empera said.

"Don't worry. The Emperor's power, Aisha's power, and Tartarus's power have locked down the entire star system. You can fight in space with no problem," Rhodes said.

There was no helping it; the planet could not withstand the battle. Neither the Dark Emperor nor Fulgrim—now fused with a Chaos god-weapon—could be contained by a small world.

"Understood, master. I'll draw him into space now." The Dark Emperor nodded, and again swung the Empera Blade at Fulgrim.

Ultimate dark energy surged along the sword. As the black sword-light cleaved Chaos divinity, Fulgrim's daemonsword twisted again.

The blade became a screeching, violet-scaled serpent that coiled around the Empera Blade, pink-violet light flaring in its eyes as Chaos god-power wrestled with dark energy.

The battle aloft had reached a fever pitch. Behind Fulgrim unfurled four pairs of daemonic wings studded with eyeballs; each beat cast down maddening phantasms, stirring humanity's most primal desires. With most of a godshard integrated, Fulgrim could now channel part of Slaanesh's portfolio.

But the dark magic around the Alien Empera shut out all psychic pollution. His black armor glowed with dark energy utterly unlike the Emperor's runes.

With a sudden burst of speed, he appeared before Fulgrim, clamped his throat, and dragged him straight into hard vacuum, away from the planet and into space.

Once in space, Fulgrim tore free of the Alien Empera's grip. The two became streaks of black and violet light that slammed together.

Boom! Boom!

World-shaking detonations echoed.

In the cold void they collided—no air to buffer, no gravity to bind—only pure darkness and Chaos smashing together.

Fulgrim's daemonic wings spread wide in vacuum, Chaos energy swirling like a boiling violet nebula. Each swing of the Sword of Death cleaved pink-violet arcs kilometers long; meteor belts dissolved to dust where they passed.

The Alien Empera seemed the incarnation of darkness itself, dark energy congealing at his feet into a field that devoured light. Each slash of the Empera Blade drew pained cries from space itself.

A band of purple-black sword-qi met a jet-black blade-flash in the void. The resulting energy storm shredded a nearby minor planet.

Laughing madly, Fulgrim pressed in, his blade splitting into hundreds of afterimages, each strike laced with reality-warping Chaos divinity.

The Alien Empera parried with absolute precision; every counterstroke of his ebon blade targeted Fulgrim's vitals.

Suddenly, Fulgrim's rhythm changed. The Sword of Death elongated in a snap into a purple-black light-blade spanning a world, scything at the Alien Empera's waist.

The Dark Emperor did not dodge. His left hand thrust forward, manifesting a shield of pure dark matter that blocked a blow that could have split a continent.

At the instant the forces locked, dark-red lightning burst from the Alien Empera's right-hand blade. One diagonal cut blazed like a supernova, driving Fulgrim back hundreds of thousands of meters.

Fulgrim stabilized in the void. His wings jetted purple-black flame, propelling him forward.

The Alien Empera snorted and burst forward as well, black energy surging underfoot.

They became twin streaks—one violet, one black—each pass sending spatial ripples. Nearby asteroid fragments crumbled in the wake.

Fulgrim threw his arms wide. The Chaos sigils on his chest flared with eldritch light, coalescing into a storm of razor violet spears that rained toward the Alien Empera.

The Dark Emperor spun his blade, a jet-black energy tornado forming about him to shred every projectile.

But in that instant, Fulgrim flashed in, the Sword of Death thrusting straight for the Alien Empera's face.

Clang—!

At the last split second, the Empera Blade parried true, but the impact sent them both skidding apart.

Before the Alien Empera could fully recover, blazing witchlight burst from Fulgrim's left eye—a hyper-concentrated Chaos ray.

The Dark Emperor tilted aside; the beam grazed his pauldron, corroding the dark metal with a vicious sizzle.

It was no serious wound for him. Fulgrim, however, fared worse.

Cracks had begun to spread within his body. Violet light leaked from beneath his skin. The brutal, sustained combat was straining his vessel to breaking.

Chaos divinity seemed ready to detonate from within at any moment.

"You can't control power this great. Your body can't withstand it," the Dark Emperor said, lowering his blade.

Fulgrim's expression turned ugly. Damn it—this vessel was at its limit. From the start, this black giant had pressured him beyond imagination.

He had never seen such terrifying power. Even using Chaos to the limit, he could not take the advantage—he was even being suppressed.

"This useless body can be discarded at any time. Soon I'll obtain a more perfect flesh," Fulgrim sneered.

On the planet below, the preparations he'd made with Lorgar had already begun. With the Emperor's avatar Guilliman and everyone else fixated on the duel between him and the black giant, this was the perfect chance.

If he could seize that extradimensional avatar, he would withdraw at once. Once fully fused, with a perfect body, he would no longer fear Chaos power running amok.

The Alien Empera snorted and swung the Empera Blade, diving at Fulgrim again.

On the planet's surface, a squad of elite Chaos Astartes led by the fallen Primarch Lorgar launched a lightning raid on Guilliman's ship's cargo hold.

Chapter 556: Lucius's Intel, Ten Thousand Miles to Save the Raven Lord

This special strike team included not only Primarch Lorgar, but also many elite Noise Marines and some Word Bearers.

Most notable was Lucius, hidden among them. On his new master's orders, he infiltrated the strike and continuously relayed information to Rhodes—

Selling out his hastily assembled "teammates" completely.

The battle in space continued, while Rhodes dispatched Slaanesh Slayer to intercept.

He planned to deliver the extradimensional avatar to the Aeldari Death God to complete their bargain.

"Rhodes! Are you confident?" Guilliman approached and asked.

The battle overhead was brutally intense, but Fulgrim did not seem to be losing ground. Rhodes's subordinate was very strong—stronger than a Primarch.

Even fused with a cosmic beast, Guilliman could not claim a sure victory. Anyone wielding Chaos divinity—even half of it—existed on a higher tier than demigods like them.

That power could obliterate them.

In this fight, he could not even help.

"Relax. This time Fulgrim is as good as dead. If you're interested, you might as well go rescue your brother Corax," Rhodes said.

According to Lucius's intel, besides Lorgar, Fulgrim had captured another Primarch—the Raven Lord, Corax.

"He's been brought here too?" Guilliman asked.

"No. He's still in a cell Fulgrim prepared. You can go rescue him. I have the exact location. I can open a gate for you. Once you've got him, send me a message and I'll bring you back," Rhodes said.

"You can open a gate? So you could always find Fulgrim's lair. Then why set this trap?" Guilliman asked, baffled.

"Fulgrim is fusing with a Chaos godshard. In theory he's already a kind of undying being. You can't hold him in the Warp; he can relocate at any time. We had to draw him into realspace," Rhodes said, rolling his eyes.

If it were that simple, he wouldn't have had to orchestrate such a long setup to lure him here.

Guilliman nodded. At this moment, the Emperor's avatar was seized by the Emperor's will and spoke slowly.

"Guilliman. Go save your brother Corax. Leave this to me and Rhodes."

"Yes, Father. I'll go at once," Guilliman said, nodding to Rhodes.

He began assembling a strike team of a thousand, all Ultramarines—among them his most important gene-son, the famed Calgar.

Poor Calgar. After months fighting on the warning world, his gene-father finally arrived—only to send him straight back to work.

…

Minutes later, Guilliman brought the strike force to Rhodes.

Beside them, Tartarus used his special power to open a golden portal, sending the Imperial Regent to Fulgrim's lair.

A thousand Ultramarines followed their gene-father through the gate.

This time Fulgrim had committed his Slaanesh Chaos Marines, unaffiliated Chaos daemons who had joined him, and a horde of cultists—an all-out sortie—so his lair's defenses were thin.

Guilliman bore the Emperor's Sword and wore blue armor woven from the cosmic phantom beast's energy.

"My sons, with me—slay these Chaos traitors and rescue my brother!" he roared, leading his gene-sons into the Chaos lair.

"My battle-brothers, follow the gene-father! Kill the traitors!" Calgar charged after him.

"Follow the gene-father!" countless Astartes cried, storming the lair.

The few Chaos Marines left behind never imagined the Imperium would "backdoor" them.

A golden portal tore a slit between the Warp and realspace. Guilliman and a thousand Ultramarines formed up in perfect ranks.

"Remember our objective," Guilliman turned to his sons, the Emperor's Sword glowing blue in his hand.

"Rescue Corax. Exterminate the enemy. Accept no surrender. Leave no survivors."

Calgar stepped forward, scars on his Terminator armor gleaming bronze under the weird light. "For the Emperor!"

As the last Ultramarine crossed the portal, the sight even made seasoned veterans hold their breath.

They stood on a platform of living metal. In the distance, twisted spires bowed like giants wracked by agony.

Pink-violet mist hung in the air; every breath carried a cloying sweetness on the tongue.

It was the corruptive power of Slaanesh. Even away from his lair, Fulgrim had laid traps here.

"Do not breathe this taint. Stay close to me," Guilliman ordered, raising a golden energy barrier—using the cosmic Black Tortoise's power to form a purification that blessed his sons.

The phantom beast's power strongly countered Chaos. Ensuring his gene-sons would not be corrupted by Warp energy, Guilliman advanced.

He activated the beast-armor; crystalline blue plating flowed from neck to toe. Raising the Emperor's Sword: "Forward! Intel says the prison is in the third spire!"

This particular intel came from Lucius. Hopefully, it was true.

Moments after leaving the platform, the ground convulsed. Living metal rose in waves; dozens of Ultramarines toppled into yawning metallic maws.

Amid screams, Guilliman watched those warriors ground to pulp by gnashing metal teeth, their blood absorbed into the coursing veins of the floor.

The losses were so sudden even he was caught off guard. This planet was no ordinary place.

"The entire world is alive!" Calgar roared, smashing the ground with a power fist. The shockwave calmed the metal's frenzy—briefly.

Guilliman shed golden radiance, using the phantom beast's power to open a path.

"Move! This corridor won't hold for long!"

After forcing through three self-sealing gates…

Its walls were mosaicked with twisted human faces. As the Marines passed, the faces shrieked in unison.

Sonic waves hammered the passage. Five helmets burst; brains sprayed from every orifice.

"Sonic weapons! Cut auditory feeds!" A Librarian raised a psychic shield, a jade dome barely withstanding the second wave.

In the shadows danced lithe figures—Slaanesh Daemonettes plucking strange stringed instruments. Each stroke sent a fresh killing wave.

Calgar led the Terminators in a charge. Power fists crushed three Daemonettes, but more scantily armored Slaanesh warriors surged from the gloom to clash with the Ultramarines.

"For Macragge!" a mortally wounded Marine hurled himself into the foe; a melta charge blossomed blue-white, devouring half the hall.

Guilliman seized the breach. As the Emperor's Sword took the head of a Slaanesh champion, her seductive face still held a blissed smile.

Through the blood-slick gallery, they reached the central nexus, where seven Forges of Pain loomed.

Chained slaves tossed the living into boiling energy vats. In some, Guilliman saw Astartes remains; their power armor melted like candy shells.

"Blade of Delight, awaits," a androgynous voice cooed from a furnace top. A slender figure drifted down, six scimitars unfurling like a peacock's tail.

On landing, Guilliman saw clearly: a hermaphroditic horror, pearl skin studded with blinking eyes.

A Greater Daemon of Slaanesh.

"Come, a thousand pleasures," the mixed voice laughed. "You will smile as every drop of blood leaves you."

The foe struck faster than physics allowed, six blades scissoring from different angles for Guilliman's throat. The Emperor's Sword parried with ease.

Guilliman abruptly shifted forms; the sword lanced in at an uncanny angle—its trajectory as unpredictable as a supernova. The daemon shrieked and sprang back—three arms, blades and all, fell to the floor.

"Y-you—how—" it stared, flesh around the wound writhing.

"Because the Emperor's will surpasses all pleasure." Guilliman drove the blade home, piercing the daemon's heart.

Just a Greater Daemon of Slaanesh—what were you so smug about?

After removing the nuisance, Guilliman led his sons onward, cutting down countless Chaos foes.

Soon, guided by Lucius's intel, they reached Corax's prison.

The tower's interior was shockingly vast. An obsidian void-cage floated at center. Corax was pierced by eight Chaos chains, nailed to a cruciform within. The once-proud Raven Lord was gaunt, bare skin crawling with writhing tattoos.

As Guilliman approached, the tattoos opened—countless Slaanesh eyes. His brother had been tortured beyond recognition; worse, Slaanesh's power had corrupted him, transforming him into a Daemon Prince.

"Don't come closer!" Corax rasped, voice scarcely human. "I'm beyond saving. Kill me."

"Don't be absurd, Corax. I'm here to save you, not kill you."

Chapter 557: Corax's Return, Four Primarchs Corner Lorgar

Fulgrim! Damn you—you deserve death! Of all of them—of all of them, you wretched bastard!
I will never let you go. Never!

Guilliman ground his teeth. He had never imagined Corax had been reduced to this.

His body was no longer human; even his soul was being corroded by Fulgrim's power.

He could hardly fathom the tortures Corax had suffered—the unthinkable abuse.

Fulgrim had been among the first to return to the Imperium. When he did, he delivered a stirring speech before all—a rousing, even moving declaration that inspired every Imperial soldier and the entire III Legion.

Even the Emperor was moved, granting the III the title "Sons of the Emperor." Fulgrim's flagship was named Pride of the Emperor.

Horus's treachery had been born of Chaos's corruption and the Four's schemes.

Lorgar, after the destruction of the Perfect City, hated his father and accepted Chaos.

Angron bore the Butcher's Nails; when Father stopped him from rescuing his old comrades, he came to hate him.

Magnus, too, was ensnared by Chaos's plots; Prospero burned by Leman Russ—thus the betrayal.

But you? Fulgrim, why did you betray our father? Was he unkind to you? Others had reasons to fall. You alone have no right.

Besides Horus, Father lavished the most love on you.

At Horus's mere suggestion you turned traitor, embraced Chaos, murdered Ferrus Manus, and wounded yourself—sleeping away ten thousand years.

Now you've seized Corax and subjected him to horrors unspeakable!

Guilliman's rage peaked. This time, no matter what, Fulgrim would be annihilated, soul and all.

"Your voice… familiar. Who are you? My eyes—I can't see!" Corax croaked.

The torment had ruined his sight. He saw only red—no, only black.

Fulgrim had told him it was to help him see "greater beauty," to see the world's pleasures.

"It's me, brother—Guilliman. Don't worry. I've come to save you. I'll take you back to the Imperium and make you whole again. I promise." Guilliman raised the Emperor's Sword, severed the corrupt chains, and lifted his brother down.

"It's you, Guilliman… It's good to see you, brother. But I'm beyond saving.
Look at me—my flesh is corrupted, my soul as well.

I'm finished. Kill me, let me die as a Primarch—as a man. I won't live as a monster," Corax said.

He had already become a Warp being—a Daemon Prince. Had Guilliman come any later, even his soul might have been reshaped into Fulgrim's puppet.

He was grateful Guilliman had arrived in time—to purify him with Father's blade.

He could feel the searing burn of the golden greatsword—that pain meant the Emperor's weapon could end him cleanly.

"Don't talk nonsense, brother. Many of our brothers have returned—even Horus. He was framed back then, and Magnus too.

You know Magnus's state was worse than yours. If he can become a man again, why can't you?

Stand firm. Your sons await you. Father awaits you. Our brothers await you—waiting for you to return," Guilliman said, supporting Corax and beginning the withdrawal.

The Ultramarines followed steadfastly. Any Chaos cultists, Marines, or daemons who dared approach were exterminated.

Librarian Digris was a terror in the Warp; his witchcraft erased daemons with ease.

Guilliman's phantom beast power formed a bulwark; any Warp life that approached was held at bay and burned to ash by the golden psychic radiance of the Emperor's Sword.

"The Imperium is better now. Father has risen from the Golden Throne and his body is healing. Soon, Humanity will return to its peak.

Rogal Dorn has returned. Vulkan has returned. The Imperium is stronger and more united than ever. I'll make sure you see this golden age," Guilliman said, one hand steadying Corax, the other cutting down every daemon in his path.

This was Fulgrim's lair, yes—but without its master, Guilliman felt he could carve through it alone with one sword.

"That truly is good news. You can take me back—but give me something to cover myself. I don't want others to see me like this," Corax said.

In this state, he was a thoroughgoing daemon-thing. What would mortals think?

"Don't worry. I planned for that," Guilliman said.

Soon he brought Corax to the golden portal and crossed it. Only when the last Ultramarine withdrew did Tartarus close the gate.

"Thank you, Tartarus. Send us to Holy Terra. My brother needs treatment—he's in a bad way," Guilliman said.

Handling Fulgrim could be left to Rhodes—and to Father. He had to get Corax to the Palace at once.

"No problem, Lord Guilliman. Withdraw for now. We'll handle things here. That one is about to give out," Tartarus said, opening a golden gate to Holy Terra.

Guilliman nodded gratefully and led Corax through, returning to Terra.

…

The Palace's Custodes were shaken by Corax's daemonic appearance. Who would have imagined a Primarch reduced to this? Yet they dutifully guided them to the Emperor's presence.

"Lord Guilliman, Lord Corax—this way. The Emperor awaits."

"Lead on," Guilliman said.

Guided by the Custodes, Guilliman and Corax reached the depths of the Palace. After ten millennia, Corax—the Raven Lord, Primarch of the Raven Guard—returned to Humanity's Imperium, to his familiar home: Holy Terra.

"My child—Corax, you have suffered. Do not fear; all will pass," the Emperor's voice resounded.

"Father, I have failed you. I failed! I did not judge the traitors. I was captured. I became… this," Corax said.

"Do not blame yourself. You never failed. You are one of my bravest sons.
You did what others dared not—you hunted the traitors of Chaos. You are worthy of the name Primarch.

As for your form—worry not. I will purify you. You will be human again," the Emperor said.

He could use humanity's psyker power to cleanse; Horus's light could aid Corax's recovery; Rhodes's power could craft a proper body; and the cosmic beast would help.

Corax would return to lead the Raven Guard once more.

"Father, if I can return, I will make the Imperium's foes taste the Raven Lord's terror again," Corax said.

The burden lifted from his heart. Moments earlier he had begged Guilliman to kill him for fear of Father seeing him like this—of Father's disappointment—of being viewed as a corrupted monster.

But now Father's voice was gentle, caring. It warmed him.

"Rest easy, Corax. Horus and I will purge the Chaos from you.

For now, there is other work—Fulgrim must be punished," the Emperor said.

Corax nodded and, escorted by Custodes, retired to a private chamber to rest.

…

On the other battlefield—Guilliman had departed, but the Lion El'Jonson, Sanguinius, Horus, and Vulkan had already been teleported by the Emperor to the front.

Lorgar's face soured. Surrounded by four, his nerve faltered.

"Long time no see, Lorgar. I've missed you," Horus said first.

"Let's have a good talk, brother."