Chapter 6
"A true servant of the Emperor knows
that an enemy of his enemy is never his friend."
-Chaplain Leo of the Sagittarians Chapter
*
Alexandro couldn't believe that this was the glorified mission that would save the planet. It had been a week since he was added to the retinue of serfs that served Lord Pandor, a week since he became…a gardener. Of course the Lord knew about his true purpose on his lands but he had to be subtle to prevent any thoughts of dissent, so he was there as a gardener, his true identity only known by Pandor himself, he didn't think that a neophyte of the Chapter could stoop so low, even if it was a mission. As he absentmindedly ploughed the land, having now previous experience in such manual labour and gaining newfound respect at Cletus, Sam and Rhode's previous life, he remembered the grim news that was given to him mere minutes before he was taken off the battlebarge.
'Bad news, brothers,' Captain Raphael had said grimly, 'from what the astropath tells me,' gesturing to a frail man whose psychic light shone dimly like a dying bulb, 'the barriers between reality and the warp are thinning, it seems that they are summoning denizens from the empyrean: daemons.'
There had been another intake of breath, and with his new powers Alexandro could almost taste the anger in the minds of his brother marines.
'I now come to the conclusion that the corruption of the nobility has been going on for years if not decades, for a ritual to summon their hosts can't be done easily. So this presents an even greater danger to you Alexandro and Lord Pandor.'
'That's fine,' Alexandro replied coolly, 'I just need to keep myself from exploding with the force of a nuclear warhead.'
He regretted that comment an instant later when he was under the stern gaze of the esteemed Captain.
'I guess we wouldn't want that either,' he replied, 'get packed, armoured and ready for flight in thirty minutes.'
His melancholy was interrupted by a high pitched voice.
'Hey, servant, fetch me my stick, I feel like taking darling Strawberry here for a walk.'
Alexandro turned to see a tall girl about his age in a smart rider's uniform pulling a magnificent cream-coloured stallion along by its reins, oh yes; he was also a personal servant of Lord Pandor's daughter.
'Yes Mistress Sylvia.' he replied grudgingly, dropping his tool and running off to the stables to get her riding stick. He got back ten minutes later, sweating in the equatorial sunlight for he had ran the whole way, she wasn't happy.
'What do you call this lack of effort servant?' she said, taking the stick from him and smacking his head with it, 'I wish that daddy got a better servant than you.'
Alexandro's eyes narrowed, the tasks that she set upon him were testing his physical fitness to the limits and she called him incapable, this was as tough as the Astartes regimens if not tougher. It also didn't help how she never called him by name, only calling him by the lowly title of 'servant' or 'serf'. But he was getting used to it, the Imperial ethos telling him to endure; eventually there would be salvation…eventually. Sylvia raised an eyebrow at his sweaty face, eyes narrowing too as if in contemplation.
'You should accompany me servant,' she said, reaching a decision, 'I don't want to get lost out there, it's a dangerous place.' this was preposterous as the fields need to be ploughed by sundown and Sylvia's was practically safe within her home-fort as thousands of guards patrolled the complex. 'Besides, I've even packed us a picnic.' she said in a more cheerful tone as if it would solve all his problems.
'My lady,' he said, 'I would gladly go with you if I could but…'
'No buts,' she said, cutting him off, 'you come with me now, or else I'll tell father.'
Alexandro gave and exasperated sigh; that threat didn't even have any power for he wasn't even a real servant belonging to her house, her father's displeasure would probably be a short but stern lecture on keeping in role instead of a beating of which he was certain she imagined.
'Very well my lady.'
*
The next ten minutes were spent packing for the exciting excursion that Sylvia had planned before they set off into the forest within the lord's domains where it was filled with game –all predators had been exterminated for the safety of the lord's children. Alexandro felt a peace that he hadn't felt in a while as they traversed the winding path to some unknown destination, the natural tranquillity and beauty of this preserved sanctuary took his breath away, in his short life on Chiron Beta, he hadn't seen many trees for the skyline was filled with kilometre-tall buildings. The wind whistled in his ears and he reached his mind out to the native wildlife, the myriad of activities going on around him, the barrages on the senses, was beautiful.
'Servant,' came a familiar voice, 'what are you doing?'
Alexandro opened his eyes to see that Sylvia upon her horse was a dozen or so metres in front of him, he had stopped, embarrassed he quickly caught up in a few long strides.
'Nothing my lady,' he replied hastily, 'just having nice thoughts.'
After an hour more of walking around, they finally reached her sanctuary, Alexandro angrily noticed the spires of the castle not too far away; she had made them walk around in circles just to bug him. The spot was a beautiful place, a meadow with a river meandering across, and a waterfall in the backdrop, all man-made Alexandro guessed.
'Servant, you're all sweaty, go take a wash in the river.' she said pinching her nose as if to prove her point.
This order was one that Alexandro was all too happy to oblige; he needed the cool water to rinse his limbs of grime and sweat that he had collected during the course of the day. He stripped down to his skin tight bodyglove before diving into the clear waters of the river, the coolness suffused his body and he felt relaxed, he submerged himself underwater, already having lost his fear of drowning thanks to his Multi-Lung, and began to calm his thoughts from the recent weeks of bloodshed. He released the sweat that had stored itself into the absorbent body glove and began to rinse his head.
He felt a painful crack to the head by a wooden object that burst his bubble of happiness, grimacing, he surfaced to see Sylvia looking at him worriedly.
'You've been down there for three minutes,' she said in a more mature tone, 'I thought you were dead, how did you hold your breath for that long.'
Alexandro was fazed by his ignorance of time, 'I used to swim in the lake near where I lived before,' he lied smoothly, 'so I can hold my breath for a long time.'
'Oh,' she said, her eyes sparking at an idea, 'want to see who can hold their breath longest? I'm a good swimmer too.'
'That isn't a good idea my lady…'
'What? Are you scared that you'll get beaten by a girl?'
Sighing again he replied, 'Whatever you wish my lady.'
He looked down at the water that was emanating light, he thought he had grown used to his new eyes by now but the rippling hypnotic display of light that the water produced was beautiful. As he peered closer, a torrent of water erupted from beside him, the ripple effect of water getting into and temporarily stinging his eyes, he looked to the right to see a pair of chocolate brown eyes centimetres away from his peering into the depths of his own. He flinched inwardly though on the outside he remained as passive as ever, he didn't like being so close to her, her tastes and character didn't appeal to him, and as he stared into her eyes he read a hint of fondness for him.
'You're a strange person servant,' she said, not blinking or moving away, 'I've noticed a few things, I don't think that you're a normal gardener, I always see you walking off somewhere at night.'
She was right and Alexandro was shocked by her perceptiveness, he made a daily report to the Invictus every night as well as checking his hidden repository of wargear that he buried behind a bush.
'You stalk me?' he asked dubiously, before remember his manners and adding, 'my lady?'
She smiled, 'of course I don't stalk you; it's just that you seem different to the other servants of mine who usually give up on me after a few days. So what say you? You ready to race?'
They spent the next hour in the river, swimming around. And true to her word, Sylvia was a professional swimmer, almost beating Alexandro, who had never swum properly before amongst the hive blocks from whence he came, in the races that she made. She compensated by giving herself a head start of a few seconds which usually decided the race, where she was fluid and graceful, he was clumsy and unrefined. Just like my powers, Alexandro thought to himself.
The swimming soon lost its fun, for Sylvia, he was reluctant to part with the water. They left the coolness behind to eat a meal beneath the shade of a tree. The food was delicious, probably smuggled away or taken off some poor cook; it consisted of pastries, sandwiches, candied pineapple and sweet meats, Alexandro had not eaten so well since the parties of his old life when celebrating a festivity. He scolded himself for being so nostalgic, he was an Astartes and it was an honour to serve the Emperor.
'Tell me about yourself,' Sylvia said suddenly, 'the life you lived before serving my father.'
'It's a long story…'
'We have time.'
'No we don't, it's almost sunset.'
'Yes we do because I say so.' Sylvia said stubbornly, her eyelids drooping.
This surprised Alexandro who had forgotten about having at least eight hours of sleep a day, the Astartes had a maximum of four and the neophytes had followed suit, he looked at her quizzically.
'I'm tired,' she said sleepily, having evidently changed her mind, 'let's go back now.'
Alexandro stood up and walked to the horse.
'Don't leave me here,' she said, 'I can't get up on my own you know.'
He sighed, turned back and lifted her to her feet, assisted her in walking to her horse, before lifting her up and putting her on the saddle. He then turned back to pack up all the equipment when all of a sudden, the mood of the forest changed, its calmness replaced by tension. Alexandro quickly wrenched all the items from the ground, packing the leftover food brusquely before rapidly pacing back to the horse. He didn't know how to ride the horse so he stood beside it and probed in on with his mind, the horse whinnied once before setting off at a face trot, obviously perturbed by the change in atmosphere.
A few minutes in and the forest just kept on getting darker and darker, every rustle of leaves seemed a threat and the wind now howled, Alexandro looked up at the sleeping figure of Sylvia, unaffected by the storm, and found himself worrying over her fate.
Alexandro's sixth sense screamed a moment before a dark shadow, moving impossibly fast, leapt from the sickly greenery and onto him.
*
Alexandro had a fleeting vision of a massive quadruped monster before being pummelled by its mass, he swiftly moved fell and kicked up, using the massive beasts' weight against it, he flipped it away and got a real glance as to what he was facing.
The thing that rolled itself over was an unholy fusion of living metal and burning muscle, it reeked of blood and its bloodthirsty presence dismayed Alexandro for it was no earthly beast, it was a foul warp spawn of Chaos the archenemy. Claws like daggers protruded from its paws and fangs as long as sabres jutted from a massive filthy maw caked with rotted flesh. It was as big as the terrified horse that it swiped at, its metallic claws rupturing its innards and spraying the beast with gore, this served to make it even more frenzied. It turned before charging at Alexandro, he knew that he only had microseconds to act.
His instincts, honed by hours at the training hall under the strict tutelage of Octavius, saved his life.
He took out the only weapon he did not part with whilst undercover; his sacred bolt pistol, from a holster at the back of his bodyglove, to leave it behind in the face of such danger was folly. He raised his arm before loosing a volley of explosive rounds into the centre of the daemonic mass of his foe. The bolts hit home, but the hellhound did not seem to feel the pain from the wounds nor was it slowed in the slightest. Alexandro looked down at his skin that was already beginning to glisten, as if his psychic powers lay beneath his skin, brimming with strength that could not be held in the immaterial plane. He then sent bolts, now enhanced by his psych, into the hound, this met with more success as the psychic energy shredded through the wards and sorcery that bound the daemon to the material universe, blowing out chunks of its flesh and, with its psychic eye, parts of its essence.
The beast collapsed in mid run and yet did not die. It just glared at Alexandro maliciously through burning orbs that hung in the sockets of its plated cranium as it picked itself up and in that instant he saw the aspect that brought the beast into being. A vision of an endless sea of blood within a fortress of war, a thunderous sky tinged with red, a mountain of skulls, and a brass throne which beheld the hellhound's laughing master. A winged crimson giant hundreds of feet tall, clad in brass armour sanctified with blood, and wielding a massive axe and whip in each hand bellowing his rage at his cowering subjects.
This was amplified as Alexandro sensed a dozen more of the hellhounds watching him from the darkness, probing him with some dark amusement
A lesser man would have succumbed mind wracking pains of this vision. But Alexandro, having already been possessed by a Lord of Change before successfully throwing the Daemon, was no lesser man. He saw corruption and lies where most others would see temptation, its presence was vile, like a canker in the galaxy for how could a creature of lies manifest itself righteously in a galaxy of truth?, it was a contagion that only deserved one fate: annihilation.
He drew on his hatred and it gave him strength. He concentrated his anger until it was a white hot ball of pure fury before unleashing it in a massive blast of light.
The immense wall of energy that blasted into the ranks of daemonic steeds was devastating, it dissolved their unholy essences in an instant before sending them back roaring into the warp.
Though his repository of power was hardly diminished, his effort at directing the blast had drained his willpower and that left him physically exhausted. Clammy and tired, he trudged over to the dying stallion and to the rider of the unfortunate animal: Sylvia. Her livid skin already had the telltale signs of bruises that would appear within the next few minutes but Alexandro could sense that most of her pain lay with her damaged internal organs and a few broken bones. Her eyes were closed as if facing the sun itself, he shook her. She yelped in fright before whimpering and turning her head away from his, whimpering some ancient prayer on forgiveness, Alexandro then realised that his skin was still radiating his psychic might, he dimmed the light and placed a few wards of deception around his form so to her he looked normal.
'Sylvia, come, we should get back before something else comes.' Alexandro said urgently
She whimpered in pain, finished muttering her prayer before opening her eyes; the emerald green flared with fear and hate.
'You're a witch.'
The statement was an accusation, fuelled by the millennia of ingrained prejudice that saw the psyker as a threat to the Imperium was an annoyance, it was a cruel irony that the Imperium was dependant on the beings it hated the most, for without psykers; the Imperium would flail around blind, deaf and mute. And yet the young Marine was hurt by the vicious indictment coming from a person he thought he trusted.
'Yes I am.' Alexandro whispered gently.
'Get away from me,' she yelled, 'you're tainting me, you sent those hounds to kill me, you could have shot me with your pistol.'
'Kill you?' Alexandro asked disbelieving, 'talk sense girl, I just sent them off, and if I wanted to harm you I would have done so before today, the fact that you're still alive now proves my point exactly.'
Sylvia moaned in pain.
'I think I broke something,' she murmured, 'my abdomen is bruised, help me up.' Sylvia paused looking up into Alexandro's grimy but unreadable face and smiled, 'sorry about what I just said, I wasn't thinking right, you are a true friend though I suspect you aren't really one of my serfs.'
Alexandro mirrored her smile.
'No, that I'm not mistress.'
He knelt down and lifted her up tenderly, their equipment forgotten, before walking back down the path to the fort, counting on his incomplete Astartes physiognomy to cope with the strain.
*
Alexandro was once again sheathed within his intricate carapace armour beside Lord Pandor, everyone had eyed the Chapter symbol adorning his shoulder with awe, his identity now out in the open; everyone knew that the Space Marines were here. This brought a few fearful glances from the nobles who surrounded a massive hardwood table, this amused Alexandro for it wasn't so long ago when he himself was looking at the mythic figures of the Astartes with such awe, to be the subject of it now was discomforting.
'Something is happening throughout my domains.' Lord Pandor said, 'Yesterday, Lord Draco, my own younger brother, has seceded from our rule denouncing me as a traitor to the people, he has called out for arms to topple the throne of our family that has ruled this world for millennia. And the people have replied, fully half of our armed forces on the continent have forsaken their oaths to the family to bring destruction to our home, it is happening all across the continent.'
Alexandro nodded. The small continent of Arca was home to the nobility of the planet, where the skies were unaffected by the pollution generated by the rest of the hive world, a haven for the rich, and it had luckily escaped the fate of an ork invasion since the defences were being set up at the heart of the industrial zone of the planet. And being the savage animals they were, they headed right to the most defended zone of the planet where a good fight was guaranteed.
Lord Pandor pressed a few keys on a control panel recessed into his edge of the massive table. A hololith projector in the table lit up showing the council a holo-map of the continent, showing many settlement and towns scattered across the continental plains. What caught Alexandro's attention was how the red zone, signifying the rebels, took about two-thirds of the districts with a small area of partisan blue to the east that included the fort of Lord Pandor.
'Things are going badly.' Lord Pandor said dourly, 'About half of our planetary defence forces mutinied overnight, taking strategic locations in a lightning raid. What heavy weapons and vehicles they couldn't take they managed to destroy. By the time I could rally the loyalists through the sabotaged emergency vox, the continent was almost in enemy hands.' He twisted a few dials that highlighted a few zones within the red.
'They took out most of our foundries and intercepted the trade routes that are vital for us to survive, we have managed to hold out a few areas but they are being stressed by enemy forces who are better supplied and equipped then our men.' Twisting a brass dial one highlighted zone was zoomed into.
'This is the lynchpin of their campaign; Epimetheus. This city controls the production of ammunition, the only one that is left under our control, and it also produces the food that we will need in a drawn out war, without it our forces will starve and surrender, defecting to the enemy and destroying us. Currently, a force of about two thousand men are defending it against a force ten times their size, they are holding out with their almost limitless supplies but even then their fate lies on a knifes edge for they are running short on one thing they cannot replace, manpower. We will send a task force of about a thousand men by air to hold it out until reinforcements arrive, I will personally lead fifteen thousand men to break the blockade but in that time Alexandro here will lead the strike force to relieve the force.'
Alexandro was suddenly aware of twenty pairs of eyes watching him attentively.
'Astartes will there be more of you to aid our plight?' asked a nobleman, face lined with age, the worst of it held back by rejuvenating formulas administered by his physicians.
'I'm afraid not sir,' he replied, 'my master's forces are spread thinly across the planet subjugating a massive ork invasion that threatens to destroy this sector, I'm afraid that I will be the only Astartes aiding this internal conflict.' This brought sighs from the assembled men as their thoughts turned to doubt and dismay, this sickened Alexandro who knew that this wasn't the opportunity to be brought into the Imperial fold but just the simple means of survival for most of the lords, but he couldn't act now, he was no diplomat, he was a warrior and for now it was time for war.
'And now for the cold hard truth lords,' he continued grimly, 'this isn't a mere rabble of men we're facing, these events have clearly been manipulated by outside forces for a long time, what I met when out with Lord Pandor's daughter were denizens of the warp, they are attempting to summon daemons into the mortal plane and if they are, this world is in a greater danger than anyone has previously perceived.' This revelation brought shocked looks and cries of outrage, fear overwhelming their weak minds for an instant, and Alexandro forgave them, for the archenemy had many faces but all having one thing in common, they were sculpted out of pure nightmares.
Changing tact, 'I gratefully accept the role as acting commander to your men Lord Pandor; I will bring the heads of the leaders here, ending this heresy once and for all.'
Before boarding the immense shuttles that would carry the reinforcements, Alexandro made a quick detour to the hospital wing of the fortress, striding past the empty beds soon to be full with the injured, until he reached the beautifully adorned bed of Sylvia Pandor. She lay unconscious with multiple tubes snaking around her body, her time in the bacta-tanks had healed most of the damage that had been done by the fall but she had been affected by the psych that Alexandro had emitted and so she needed her rest. He looked down to her sleeping form and knew that this would probably be the last time he would ever see her. He stood in vigil of the chamber for a few more minutes, reading her life signs on the monitor, contemplating the fact that she opened that possibility of a normal human life without a care for the greater galaxy, but he would not regret his choice, an Astartes had higher goals, he turned away and walked to the hangar bay, closing a chapter of his life forever.
*
'Three minutes and counting,' the pilot of the Ballista-class gunship said through the ship's vox, 'we are approaching the city, prepare for descent.' And true to his word, the once level massive shuttle began its dangerous dive into the unknown. Alexandro was clamped in a harness aware of yet again more nervous gazes of the commandos in the vicinity. Boys from all over the Imperium were told of the legendary figures that were the Space Marines from a young age either through sermons made by fanatical Cardinals or whispered myths. They said that they were the undying will of the Emperor made manifest, that they could do anything – rip a man apart, live forever, face the greatest foes of humanity and win. Some didn't really believe that they existed, but still treated them as a symbol the Imperium could stand behind. Others thought that they were fighting the battles far off, the ones that really mattered, far from this lonely planet in the Segmentum Ultima.
But now they were in the presence of one. Alexandro was truly an intimidating sight, seven foot tall in his powered carapace armour, and he knew that the soldiers would fight all the harder just to prove to him that they were higher than the commoners that populated the world, he was more of a symbol than a soldier to them.
He sensed a change in engine pitch a minute later; they were going through the cloud layer that had concealed them this far and into the sights of the enemy, and this was when the skills of the pilot would be tested. The frame of the ship groaned when the anti air batteries let loose as it struggled to move out of their fire.
Alexandro heard a priest amongst the soldiers yell out an ancient prayer above the din that was soon mirrored in the throats of the forty men in the shuttle. But he was calm and silent amidst the uproar, checking his wargear for the last time before whispering the Rites of Detestation to himself.
He had outlined his plan to the commandos an hour before and he expected the plan to work to perfection. They would send the three larger transport shuttles holding the rest of the troops to the base while they themselves would do something unorthodox; striking the command structure before the fight had even begun, a straight out Codex fight, bringing the fight to the enemy. Alexandro switched the command vox chat.
'Pilots, break formation, we'll be going on from here, the Emperor protects.'
'Yes sir, the Emperor protects!' came the unified reply from the pilots. Alexandro unclipped himself from the harness and motioned for the other soldiers to do the same.
'Men,' he said quietly, his voice carrying over the noise surrounding them, 'today we do the Emperor's works by relieving the people of Epimetheus and winning this campaign for the Imperium. I will lead you to victory, there is no doubt about it, but prepare yourselves for the horrors that come from the warp but stay steadfast, have faith in the immortal Emperor brothers.' The last word brought an inner light from the depths of their souls, to be recognised as an equal of a Space Marine, it was an honour that knew no bounds. An alarm wailed as the ramp of the gunship went down, it was time. Alexandro clamped down his helmet on his head, covering his face with the grimacing helmet, slinging the oversized jump pack on his back he turned back to the men once more.
'Jump packs ready, and I'll see you at the target, death from above!'
He charged off the ramp and jumped into the belly of the beast.
*
The platoon of commandos landed in hell. Amidst a sea of cultists, Alexandro saw through their minds what an entrance they made. Armoured warriors with hellpistols, blazing flashes of high intensity beams into the enemy with prayers of benediction at their lips, struck fear into the enemy, but not as much as the being that led them. A vengeful Space Marine. Towering over the battle, striding through their ranks with a roaring chainsword and massive bolt pistol equipped in both hands reaping souls with every swing and pull of the trigger, the death throes of the enemy shone with terror as they were struck down by the righteous. Alexandro saw their weak minds and saw their greatest fear, a Chapter of Space Marines landing within their midst, being brought up to the light of the Emperor for their crimes. He took his hatred once more and concentrated it until it was a white hot ball of light so bright that made him shine. Channelling it through his skin into reality of the air, the heretics then knew the true meaning of fear.
Giants, heroes of the old strode down the ranks fifty feet high, their eyes burning with vengeance and their armour luminescent with the light of the Emperor, he took the fabric of the world around him and warped it so that gleaming cathedrals rose thousands of kilometres into the atmosphere, gleaming streets with flags dedicated to the triumphs of the Imperium took the place of muddy fields and the accusatory stares of the dead watched the enemy. Most of the cultists just died in that instant, those who survived were reduced to gibbering wrecks, their minds flayed and broken by the sheer enormity of their Fear. The soldiers around him stared in awe as the massive figures walked amongst them. Alexandro then felt a presence who he knew was unaffected by the vision, its devotion to the Chaos pantheon so great that its mind was beyond the mind trick that Alexandro had conjured. He turned to see a figure of a man watching him with lethal malice.
The lord of the insurgents was not human, that much Alexandro could tell instantly, the massive daemon bodyguards flanking their master showed him that, he had willingly sold his soul to a greater daemon so that it would exist on the material plane cloaked in his flesh. Its flesh writhed with barely contained powers and mutations or blessings were evident, the daemon was growing stronger and flexing its ethereal muscles, Alexandro's eyes were drawn to the weapon that had been forged in death and sanctified in blood and infused with daemons. The possessed hybrid held a massive two-handed power sword that stank of corruption and dripping with contagions in one grotesquely enlarged hand that wielded the blade like a willow switch, the other hand bore a baroque pistol that contained howling spirits within its arsenal. He gave Alexandro a thin lipped smile showing a mouth lined with teeth sharpened to the points before beckoning him forward with the hand that was, want for a better word, clean. Alexandro let the image of the champion drown out the senses of battle, focusing on his unclean form and drawing on his rage.
'Cover me, suppressing fire!' called a stern voice, it took a second for Alexandro to realise that the voice was his.
'Yes sir!' came the reply before the air was alive with threads of fire that stitched across the no-mans land. The remaining cultists standing dazed were quickly eviscerated by precise beams as Alexandro dived into the fray.
Alexandro sprinted towards the mound on which the monster stood, vanquishing the daemons with blasts of psych before slowing down and looking up upon what used to be a man who had sold his soul in an attempt to topple the Master of Mankind from his Golden Throne on Terra: Lord Draco…
The Betrayer.
*
'You,' said Alexandro, marching towards the erstwhile Lord. With every step, more of Draco's treachery was revealed, sores and infected wounds covering his pallid skin, the shadow moving within the sword. Where there once was a man, Alexandro now saw a traitor who did not deserve existence, a fell light radiated from his decayed splendour further showing how far he had fallen, and Alexandro knew that nothing of the corrupted man lay within the diseased husk standing crookedly before him.
'Ah, young Marine,' said Draco, each syllable uttered from its ruined and inflated throat sloppy and wet, as if spoken through water, 'your brashness surprises me.'
The mocking and bubbly tone that came from the bruised trachea was made huskier as crushed vertebrate punctured the soft flesh in dozens of exit wounds, Alexandro felt more compelled to destroy it, he kept enough sense to know that this grinning effigy of Chaos had more to it than met the eye. His grip on his weapons tightened.
'You,' Alexandro continued, 'you want to bring ruination to the Emperor's greatest works? A filthy abhorrence the likes of you deserves only one fate: obliteration.'
The monster giggled with mirth, all the while more protuberances erupted from his body as it began to shake of its mortal cloak.
'Young sorcerer,' it chuckled, 'we needn't be enemies, embrace the powers of Chaos and we could be allies, embarking on a course to become masters of the galaxy, embrace the immortal necrosis that flood through my veins and you will experience the glory of Grandfather Nurgle.'
'Do not call me by such a title you filth,' Alexandro retorted, 'I know the foul truth of Chaos and the unbridled powers of the warp, nothing you can say will turn me away from the light of the Emperor for I am like you, I just came from my conflict with my daemon triumphant.'
The daemon's grin faltered, obviously perturbed by this statement, and probed Alexandro's mind to glean the truth from his words.
'So you rejected Chaos, so willing to embrace you with open arms, only an absolute fool would resist the temptations of such power.'
'A fool I am not, my encounter with Chaos has left me stronger and you are the fool for accepting slavery beyond mortality,' Alexandro said stoking the flames to his rage, 'you Chaos spawn talk too much, enough of this, its time for the Emperor's judgement to be placed upon you, hope that he forgives you for I will not.'
'Ah, I will miss this banter once your blood slicks my sword,' it sighed, 'I cannot die young one as you will find out yourself, this is your last chance.'
Alexandro took the first strike, striding out and driving his sword into the chest of Draco, the whirring blade easily parting the layers of corruption towards the traitor's pus ridden heart. Black ichor sprayed as the chainsword dealt massive internal damage, rupturing organs and parting flesh from bone. Draco merely laughed, unaffected by the mere mortal wound, before bringing his own blade into play.
'So be it, die well Marine.'
With a speed and swiftness that belied its bloated stature, the corrupted blade lunged towards Alexandro's throat. Barely raising his arm and blocking the stab, he lifted his other arm and released a salvo of shells from his pistol that punctured the mass of Draco before, seeing that there was no damage done, holstering the weapon and taking his chainsword in a two-handed grip. Alexandro would have obliterated the daemon with his psych if it weren't for the fact that he was currently fighting for his life, what used to be Draco being unrelenting in its attacks, not giving him a moment's respite. He found himself fighting like never before, his every swing either a parry or a block before the corrupted sword that dexterously swam through the air, the show of skill was horrifying as Alexandro was slowly battered by the assault.
What seemed like an eternity later, they were no closer to beating one another as they were at the start, Alexandro's once immaculate armour was now scored with dozens of dents, each signifying a close call with death, and the daemon was no better, its innards now lay in a twisted heap around him and it was sweating a mucous-like substance that slicked the traitor's malformed skin. Alexandro ducked under a blow and blindly flailed upwards, the toothy blade changing pitch as it hit something other than air, gore sprayed over him as the traitor roared, something heavy hit the ground before twitching and pulling itself along aimlessly around the dirt, the miscalculated strike had cost the daemon its arm and that gave Alexandro the breathing space he needed. He could now go on the offensive, the tables had turned. Another eternity was spent hammering the daemon with a series of stabs, slashes and chops, but even with one arm, it was still a formidable opponent. But in the end, Alexandro could not be denied, he baited the exhausted daemon and flourished his sword around its thirsty blade before knocking it aside and lunging forward, aiming for the daemon's head.
Instead of blocking the strike that would end its existence, Draco turned his blade and stabbed at Alexandro's chest, the inertia was too great; Alexandro couldn't have changed the path of the blade even if he wanted to at the moment of realisation. Both blades struck home at the same instant, Alexandro's blade breaking open his foe's cranium and making a mess of its brain, as Draco's tore into his torso, shredding his primary heart and lungs.
Alexandro cried out in agony as the venomous concoction of diseases entered his bloodstream and into his bones like lit liquid promethium, his vision faded as his Oolitic Kidney went into overdrive in an attempt to flush out the poisons but he knew that it wouldn't be enough. The last thing he saw before slipping into oblivion was the mangled head of the now-dead greater daemon hitting the parched earth with a resigned flop.
