Extremus Fors Chapter 39
Across the sector screams arose as psykers felt the warp convulse. On worlds and ships and starforts Astropaths grabbed their heads and wailed, blood gushing from empty eye sockets. In Salamis base, hub of Battlefleet Karyl, a Sanctioned Psyker exploded, painting Lord Admiral Dousmanis, his office and retainers with arterial blood. On Glaeba the daughter of the Lord Governor, an undetected latent psyker, unwittingly ripped open a vortex, killing two thousand servants and the entire ruling council in three seconds of mad horror. In the offices of the Imperial Regent hundreds of Astropaths fought to get past the Victrix Guard, each screaming of dire portents. The Regent heard them all from his desk and his mighty hands screwed parchment to shreds. And in the Heraculan Deeps Brother-Captain Manguire looked up from weeks of fruitless searching to realise how utterly deceived he had been, lured away on a pointless mission while the true threat manifested elsewhere.
Hypras was barely less shocked. He felt the veil ripping as a fiend of the deepest courts of hell tore its way into reality. A Daemon of potent horror and infernal might, as had rarely been seen. The Aegis convulsed, its shining purity drowning in a sea of sick depravity. Grey Knights fought impossible battles every day, holding back a tide of abomination, but few spoke of encounters with the Grandis Pandemonium. Whispers of whole brotherhoods laid low, champions slain and heroes cast down. The Daemon-Primarchs were foes of incalculable power and one was manifesting right in front of his eyes.
The battle paused as all felt their guts twisting in agony. Even non-psykers could feel it, matter writhing in protest of this violation. Hypras' eyes slid to the far corner and saw a serpentine giant growing in the shadows, taller than a Knight Walker and just as broad. Six arms held swords of vicious make and a breastplate of Auramite congealed out of nothing, covered in praises to the bearer. White locks flowed from a horned head and a face of perfect beauty with delicate features rose high. The eyes though were filled with evil, the cruel sadism of one who delights in suffering, secure in the knowledge of its own perfection. Fulgrim had come, to lavish his cruel attentions upon the universe.
Hypras had been battling Chaplain Cortha. His Crozius grew still as he looked up and gasped, "What is happening?!"
"Our fight has just become irrelevant," Jubila snarled from nearby, "Fulgrim is here, we are all going to die."
"Fulgrim…Daemon-Primarch," Cortha gasped, "Fulgrim… he… the… but…"
The Chaplain was lost for words, unable to articulate his dismay. He was not alone, across the Forgefane battles ceased as all turned to stare at the towering majesty of a Daemon-Primarch. Beastmen fell to their knees and genuflected in rapt awe, while Technobarbarians stood slack-jawed, eyes wide with incomprehension. Even the Undying paused in their rampage, heads cocked as they tried to process this new element in the battle.
Fulgrim rolled his shoulders and wings of shadow billowed as he crooned, "No trumpets fanfare, no dances of celebration. Is this how you greet your lord and master?"
From the crowds a twisted mutant stepped forward, steeped in sour power and cried, "Hail Fulgrim! I Moragann greet you, oh mighty…"
"You dare speak to me unaddressed?!" Fulgrim hissed, "You unworthy wretch!"
Fulgrim made a gesture and this Moragann froze. Blood leaked from his eyes and ears, and a deathly shiver ran through him. Fulgrim had frozen the sorcerer with a gesture, paralysing him utterly. It should have triggered a furious response, shots should have been raised and cries of defiance shouted, but there was only silence. Hypras found he could not move either, his eyes entranced by Fulgrim's presence. Fulgrim hadn't just frozen the sorcerer but everyone in the room, even Grey Knights, a feat of warpcraft Hypras could scare comprehend. The Librarian should be fighting it, but even trying to think was taking all his effort.
Fulgrim flicked long hair over his shoulder and called, "Jubila, come forward and greet your Gene-father properly."
Jubila stepped forward, kneeling before his Primarch, "Mighty Fulgrim, most glorious of all, you join us at an auspicious moment. My hearts sing to have you with us!"
"Strange," Fulgrim hissed threateningly, "The last we spoke, you insulted me most grievously. Your failure is a stench in the bouquet of perfection."
"But everything has changed!" Jubila protested, "Look, I have the Daemonsword, I have succeeded at last!"
Fulgrim peered down and sniffed, "So I see. Little Ozymandias, bound and gagged in a vice of metal. Better, it offends my sanctimonious Brother to have his treasured relic defiled so. This pleases me. You have achieved the barest minimum of success, enough for me to spare you. Except… you forget your little trick with the Fleshound blood. You called upon the favour of another god, gave service to one other than Slaanesh! Worse, you dared lift your hand against your lord, against me! This I cannot forgive!"
Fulgrim's lowest right hand blurred, striking Jubila bodily across the chest. The warlord was struck by a blade moving so fast oxygen molecules ignited in its wake. Had Fulgrim chosen to strike with the edge Jubila would have been dissected, but the Primarch was not in the mood to kill quickly, not when he could inflict suffering. Fulgrim used the flat of the blade and Jubila went flying, half the bones in his body pulverised to dust. He struck a wall so hard it left a dent in stone and collapsed, remaining bones shattering upon impact. Jubila lay in a heap of boneless limbs, Daemonsword still bound to his hand.
With one strike Fulgrim had removed Jubila from the fight, but in doing so given Hypras a chance to act. The Librarian threw his will against the paralysing spell and overturned it, breaking free of his bondage. Across the templum hypnotic chains broke and bedlam erupted. Beastmen rose, howling in feral confusion and Technobarbarians took up their arms again. The Undying began to move once more and the fight resumed.
The Grey Knights however had no interest in mortal conflict, their eyes on one being only. They were Daemonhunters and needed no orders to fulfil their role. The Aegis flared into life, repulsing warp corruption as their shining purity sought to banish the Daemon from their midst. Hypras drew upon that pool of strength, adding his Brother's might to his own as he crafted a lightning bolt and sent it flying at Fulgrim's head. The shot was true and should have marked him badly, but Fulgrim's right arm lifted a Hellmetal blade into the path of the blast, without even bothering to look. Lightning struck the metal and wrapped around it, coursing up and down like a sheath of pure energy. Hypras was aghast, he had forged the strongest blast he could and it was shrugged off without effort.
Fulgrim's giant head came about slowly and he remarked, "Grey Knights, my duplicitous father's pet witches. You realise your very existence spits in the face of his vaunted Imperial Truth. How two-faced of him, how hypocritical, he deserves everything that happened to him."
Hypras found his tongue and cried, "Avant fiend, by the authority of the Golden Throne I command ye depart!"
But the Daemon-Primarch laughed, "Hilarious! Hypras, you missed your calling as a court jester!"
Suddenly Fulgrim was attacking, diving from on high with all six arms striking. The Grey Knights threw up a kine-shield to hold him at bay and it achieved exactly nothing. The Daemon-Primarch punched through the barrier like it was a cobweb, slowed not in the slightest. Hypras heaved his staff into the way of a descending sword and felt the impact buckle his arms. Never had he been struck so mightily, his shoulders screamed in protest and his elbows failed to hold true. Space Marine strength was nothing compared to the scope of a Primarch's might and sheer force sent him skidding backwards, boots spitting sparks as they screeched over the metal floor. His staff burned bright where Hellmetal had touched it, smoke arising from runes, and Hypras gasped at the power on display.
The others were barely any better off. Agriff was tossed aside by the blow, sent rolling away in a clatter of plate. Mordad spun like a top, hitting the floor with his shoulder and crumpling the Ceramite pauldron. Pelleus alone dodged the first blow, jumping over a razor-slice, only to realise too late he had been meant to. A second sword clipped him mid-air, making him tumble over and over till he landed on his head, humiliation added to injury.
Fulgrim didn't bother to finish them off. Contemptuously rearing back and snorting, "That's it?! That's the best you have? I am insulted. When my Brother Angron manifested, Titan sent a hundred of you to confront him. I am offered a meagre foursome, father means to snub me."
Hypras lifted his head and snarled, "We are but the tip of the spear. More shall come; no matter the cost in blood we shall defeat you!"
"I think not," Fulgrim mocked, "I lured your precious Brother-Captain Manguire away with a false vision. It was surprisingly easy to trick your Prognosticars, but that's what comes when one relies on the warp. You deal in stolen power Hypras, flinching the might of Chaos and patting yourself on the back for your cleverness. Just like father, in more ways than one. I see you Hypras, so proud, so arrogant. Bathing in sin and calling yourself righteous!"
Hypras roared in anger as he threw his mind wide. He snatched up a dozen Beastmen and Technobarbarians battling nearby and threw them into Fulgrim's face. Six swords blurred as they hacked the interlopers into pieces, not one surviving to mar that perfect face with their unworthy blood, but it bought a second of reprieve. The Grey Knights rose to strike as one. Agriff slammed his hammer into a serpentine coil and Mordad hacked at where a hip should be. Pelleus darted around the back and his blades penetrated Deamon-flesh, drawing tainted blood for the first time. Fulgrim roared in outrage at being struck and his blades flashed down, falling like thunderbolts. This time the Grey Knights did not try to block, trusting to speed to avoid the blows. The floor cracked under their feet but they moved to attack again and the duel became fast and furious.
Silver blades struck everywhere, smiting the world with fury but the Grey Knights fought on. Agriff swung mighty blows as he roared, "I am the hammer! I am the sword in His hand!"
Mordad's blade left trails of flame behind as he struck over and over bellowing, "I am the gauntlet about His fist! I am the tip of His spear!"
Pelleus' arms blurred as he hacked and stabbed shouting, "I am the bane of His foes and woe of the treacherous! I am the End!"
They fought boldly and well, Hypras however was not among them. He knew of no spell that could banish so potent a fiend, no abjuration that could bind him. Fulgrim's true name was not known to Titan and in combat four Grey Knights could not hope to prevail. Yet he had one tool that might just tip the scales in their favour, a relic that could bind star-gods and Daemons alike.
Hypras snatched the Tesseract from his belt and took it in hand. The secrets of its makers were lost, but through ritual experimentation the Grey Knights had found a means to awaken it. Hypras darted into the fight, slapping a hand into lurid purple blood and anointed the cube muttering, "Blood of the Daemon, taken in battle."
Then he stooped to an oozing Beastman corpse and smeared blood onto the cube, "Blood of the servant, killed by the master."
Then he tore at the scab of his cheek, adding his own blood and crying, "Blood of the pure, given in sacrifice! Awaken ye spirit of eternity, awaken and take your due!"
The Tesseract pulsed as green light shone from within, strange runes burning as they began to move. Fractal images appeared, infinite in complexity, drawing the eye down and down and down into a bottomless pit of multiple dimensions. A prison none could escape, not even a Daemon-Primarch. Hypras averted his gaze and thrust the cube at Fulgrim, willing the Primarch to turn and look. Fulgrim did so, his gaze drawn to the shimmering light. Out of the corner of his eye Hypras saw Fulgrim's face slacken, entranced by the light. Keep looking, Hypras willed, draw near and be entombed forevermore.
Closer and closer Fulgrim drew, his swords pausing. He was being pulled into the Tesseract, nearly bound for all time, but then he made his counter. That long tail lashed out and found the petty sorcerer Moragann, crawling on the floor. Fulgrim hefted him like a ragdoll and heaved him into the path of the light, blocking the eyeline to the Tesseract. The Sorcerer screamed as he gazed into infinity, pulling him into a maze of dimensions beyond comprehension. Green light flared and then vanished, leaving empty space where Moragann had been. The Tesseract faded, its strength spent. All that arcane power, millennia of husbanded potential, wasted on one pathetic little sorcerer.
Hypras gawped in dismay at the wasted relic as Fulgrim grinned, "I did warn you I'd been watching. I knew you had that toy Hypras, and I understand it far better than you ever will. I would explain the mystery, and the shame of its origin, but I grow bored with this game. Time for you to die."
Suddenly Fulgrim was attacking in a blur of Hellsteel. His attack was thrice as fast this time, and ten times as strong. A whirlwind of lashing blades, beyond anything Hypras had seen before. He understood then that Fulgrim had been toying with them, drawing out the fight for his own amusement, but no more. The Phoenician's blades made a ruin of his armour, darting about Hypras' lumbering staff without making contact. In moments Hypras was bleeding from a hundred cuts, his plate cut so many times it resembled a cheesegrater. Agriff cried out as his blood also flowed and Mordad barked empty defiance, his defensive strokes utterly useless.
The Grey Knights were dying on their feet but it was Pelleus who bore the worst. His twin swords blurred as he fought back, arms whirlwinds of motion. He managed to block a strike, two, three, but in doing so he drew Fulgrim's full wroth. All six blades turned from the rest and gave him their full attention in a tornado of blows none could withstand. Pelleus met them head-on but so ferocious was the onslaught his body disappeared into a shimmer of dancing steel.
When it ceased Pelleus was no more, reduced to a steaming pile of offal and Ceramite shards. Fulgrim had diced the Grey Knight, taking him apart so thoroughly none would believe that pile of steaming entrails was once a man. Hypras looked on aghast, death shaking the Aegis as he struggled to comprehend what had happened. Fulgrim however reared high and uttered, "Forget purity, it's all about superiority."
