Check the bottom of the chapter for notes.
Deathstorm Drop Pods fell down relentlessly on the trap-laden ground. The ones that were not destroyed outright by the hazardous terrain opened up fire on just about anything they could, blasting through both deathly contraptions and corrupted invaders.
When over a dozen of such war machines had landed successfully, they paved the way for the rest that followed, which contained actual cargo. White mixed with gold and red, and green mixed with grey barreled through the atmosphere, landing on the scorched earth with deafening impacts.
From these pods however, did not emerge the storm of weapons fire, but a far more dangerous force. Terminators, numbering seven in total, two from the Sons of Chogoris and five from the Doom Legion, along with the Stormseer, the Captain and the Custodian Lord.
They marched, ignoring blade and Bolter that rang across their frame, as they scoured the landscape even more than the appropriately-named Deathstorms had. They tore apart stragglers, they battled and ripped to shreds defense encampment, and disposed of traps by simply walking through them, each one's armor a practical tank.
At last however, they did stumble upon an obstacle which couldn't be overcome so easily.
"Summoning rune!" the Stormseer shouted through the vox, being the first to notice the influence the corrupted sigil had had on the ground, and feeling it's presence through his enhanced senses. The Custodian picked up on it barely a second later, when it had been already activated and was doing it's intended purpose.
A gigantic mass of an abomination slithered forth from the erupting magic, a terrifying head bearing the visage of a goat and wolf skull fused together emerging first, five long tongues impossibly lolling out of it's mouths. The body came next, bulbous and monstrous, quadrupedal and filled with thick, shaggy red fur, each muscular leg ending in a veiny, clawed hand.
The Imperials were not found wanting in slaying it quickly.
Custodian, the Stormseer roared, not so much in voice as psychic shockwave, as chains of lightning spilled forth from his staff, ensnaring the creature just as it was preparing to pounce on one of the Doom Legion Terminators. Yet it was far from immobilized, as the Terminator soon found attempting to tear into it with his Thunder Hammer, as a massive scorpion-like tail emerged from the creature's behind.
Being thrown clear off from the impact, the Custodian saw it fit to step in instead, as he jumped into the air, slicing off the tail and sinking his spear straight into the daemon's multi-skull, all in the span of a few nanoseconds. The vile thing convulsed several times, which prompted him to drive the blade down the craniums and into the body, as his feet finally landed on the ground.
Eventually torn neatly in half from the head-down, the creature finally withered and died, it's blood and flesh dissolving into immaterial wisps of steam and eventually nothing.
They checked on the downed Terminator. An unsightly scar now decorated the plating, though nothing was compromised, so they marched onwards.
More traps, more daemons, more Heretic Astartes met their advance. They lost two of their own in the exchanges, a Terminator blasted to steaming slag by a Plasma Cannon, and another dragged into the maw of a Neverborn beast the size of a Land Raider, still kicking and screaming as he was devoured.
The detonation from his power pack killed the monster before any of them had the chance to, a final spiteful spit in the face of the enemy.
As they advanced and cleared more and more of the area, their armor began to reflect this. Scars, abrasions, burns and more began littering the previously polished to perfection battle plate, though their falls only enhanced their killing instinct. Octavian in particular displayed absolute ruthlessness, personally killing over two dozen Chaos Marines by himself, his stride and vigor not encumbered at all by the weighty Tactical Dreadnought armor he too now bore.
Eventually, tactical consensus from the Custodian, the Stormseer, the Captain and the Chaplain high in orbit, deemed the area safe for their true force to land.
Several Thunderhawks came careening through the atmosphere. Nigh half of them were still almost shot down even with the sweep-up work the initial forces had done, but in the end, they all made landfall unharmed.
From them emerged a full 22 warriors of mostly steel and relatively little flesh. Two whole Centurion Squads numbering five each from the Doom Legion, two from the White Scars numbering three and each led not by a Sergeant but by an experienced Battle-Brother, reflecting their losses yet also their defiance to the hands of fate. Two Librarians from the Doom Legion were also among those landed.
And finally, there were the true juggernauts unleashed from the hulls of Thunderhawk Transporters: the Dreadnoughts. Two for each Chapter partaking in the offensive, Kronos motioned for the White Scars ones to approach them as the units solidified.
The White Scars found it distasteful to inter themselves into a Dreadnought, many a Marine choosing to simply die, as the confines of the sarcophagus would never let them feel the acceleration and adrenaline of a hit-and-run battle again. It was a miserable existence, yet like all Chapters, they needed their venerable ancients, and so Dreadnoughts existed regardless.
With their forces gathered, no words needed to be exchanged as the armored column invaded deep into enemy-held territory, their Thunderhawks acting as fast scouts before retreating up into orbit. They set their sights now on the Fortress of Hera.
It was hours before they could make it past the Chaos hordes to the gates of the Fortress proper. On the way, they'd lost brothers, even the battle plate of Centurion and Terminator armor not enough to preserve them against the brunt of enemy assault.
The Dreadnoughts however, stood steadfast and indomitable, beacons of fortitude that guided their brothers with bellows of wrathful anger and righteous hate. Where all others could fall, they were perseverance incarnate, their armor bent, broken and burnt, yet still holding. They had fooled the jaws of death once, and many more times with ease after that.
The Custodian went through the thickest fighting however, taking on all manner of corrupted warrior and beast. Through the carnage, his armor never once gave, never once broke, it's gold tarnished by the heavy fighting, yet never even scraped.
Eventually, Hera herself stood before them. The sight of their objective, gleaming beautifully in the sun emboldened them. For the distant sons of Ultramar, they felt their hearts pump faster at the sight of their primogenitors' sacred home, damaged yet still standing tall.
The Custodian was the only one not affected by the shift, continuing in his own pace as he always had.
"Watch yourselves," he voxed simply, and with almost alarming prophecy the last great hurdle between them and their destination became apparent, as they descended upon a great slope into a wider section of the valley.
Two massive Bloodthirsters of Khorne stood like grand, perverse statues, as tall as a Warhound each, before their view of the fortress. They seemed almost like twins, but where one had dripping blood red wings, the other's were ebony black. They each carried massive spiked whips on their right hands, and gigantic battleaxes that dwarfed Land Raiders on their left ones.
Their mouths were trailing spittle as each creature roared in voice that could uproot trees and blow eardrums from miles away, as their psychic field seemed to make the very ground beneath quake and rend apart. And with dreadful inevitability, the massive beasts showed what they already knew: they were not there alone.
Dozens, perhaps even hundreds of Bloodletters of Khorne rushed through from underneath their massive, pillar-like legs, in a mad sprint towards the Imperial force. Without a word the Space Marines and the Custodian prepared to meet them head on.
The advancing horde met a wall of guns, steel, and rage, as immaterial flesh clashed with very much real metal. At the very start, despite their vastly superior numbers, the daemons possessed no chance against the heavily armored foe, which harnessed the power of three more than adept psykers with them.
Octavian and Kronos were at the forefront, daemon after daemon being dismembered gruesomely and utterly without mercy as more of them were slain before the last wave's remains even hit the ground.
The Custodian himself burst forth through the mass, and stared down the black-winged titan. With a roar that seemed to shake the skies themselves, they engaged in single combat.
Chain met armor, as spearhead met axe blade, the two forces crashing into each-other like hurricanes, their respective psychic auras flaring even as the ground ripped apart at their feet.
Rocketing forward on a powerful step, Kronos slammed into the body of the beast. And despite his small stature by comparison, the sound of cracked ribs and the sight of ripped skin was still produced by the seemingly inconsequential attack. The creature staggered, it's footing lost. And that was all the Custodian needed.
He swiftly threw himself away from the monstrous abdomen, before launching once more at one of the daemon's legs, toppling it along with the entire vile creature. Then, with terrifying swiftness and strength, he dragged the Titan-sized beast before briefly lifting it and slamming it back down the ground, creating a large spiderweb of cracks that extended for hundreds of meters into the rocky crust of the valley.
Before he could have the chance to do that again however, the Bloodthirster's massive leathery wings unfolded from underneath it, before flapping with enough force to knock a regular human over. Then they did so again, and again, until the thrust generated from them was enough to propel the creature off the ground.
Of course no being as gigantic could possibly fly in normal circumstances due to simple laws of physics, but those held little sway in the movement of the great immaterial beast, it's manifestation merely approximating the mortal concept without following it in the slightest. So it was that the Custodian and the Bloodthirster plowed into the sky itself.
But what the beast was not expecting was Kronos not holding on for dear life, but instead letting go without much resistance from it's body, as in-built thrusters shifted outward from his armor's power pack, propelling him through the air, after the creature.
On the ground below, the other Bloodthirster moved against the incoming wall of Imperial armor. The psykers, Librarians from the Doom Legion and the Stormseer of the White Scars took point, this enemy being theirs to face first due to their gifts.
His eyes cackling with power, the Son of Thunder struck first as the very weather in the region seemed to shift, growing more wild, by his wrath alone. With incantations of piety and purity, he set out bolts of immaterial energy screaming towards the creature.
Any of it's lesser counterparts would've been burnt to ash by the display of force, but the beast was not even deterred, the only sign of damage being scorch marks across it's body that began regenerating almost immediately. With a roar that nearly blew Nergui away from it's sheer force, the Greater Daemon charged, it's bulbous mass of gigantic, coiled muscles concealing it's swiftness.
The Stormseer for his part did not back down for an instant, and challenged the terrifying monster in close combat. Though his courage was vast, his skills however could not match an embodiment of conflict itself, second only to the Blood God it was a part of. With lightning swiftness, the massive daemon brought down it's axe, which was barely parried from an energy-surrounded tribal scepter, the impact nearly shattering the Stormseer's weapon.
Without missing a beat the Bloodthirster continued it's onslaught, each strike lumbering yet imbued with a bestial precision and unimaginable force, making the Stormseer give ground and nearly give his life with each hit. Any lesser warrior would've devolved to a rabid beast by now through the daemon's sheer oppressive aura of bloodlust, though in this battle good enough was not going to cut it and the Stormseer realized that.
Before a fatal blow could be struck however, a chain of fire grasped the beast by one arm, and tugged, halting it's momentum, if only briefly. Without pause, another was soon coiling like a great infernal snake along it's other arm, and before long a barreling mass of white slammed into it's gargantuan body, making it stumble.
Only then did Nergui see the vision of his two counterparts from the Doom Legion utilizing their power to contain the beast, and the magnificent sight of Ancient Berke mauling the giant daemon, the Dreadnought's charge staggering it.
To the White Scars, a Dreadnought was a fate worse than a death, a horrifying existence that was anathema to their philosophy of life and war. To be interred in one, a warrior had to either choose that path himself, or be of such exceptionally rare quality as to have his loss be considered an unacceptable outcome. Their numbers within the Chapter were low, the number of their deployments even lower. Only the direst of circumstances prompted their awakening.
They were Uhaan Solban, Guardians of the Morning and Evening Stars in Chogorian tongue. They stood vigil always, their frames antiquated by now, thousands of years out of service from other Chapters. The two sticking with their current detachment were the only ones the 4th Brotherhood possessed. But now, awakened for such an important fight, they were a sight to behold.
Berke, in particular, was of the later category of warriors that were interred, that of those who were simply too valuable to be lost. He had been the Brotherhood Champion for nearly 600 years before his fall, and it had taken an Ork Warlord the size of a Chimera to down him at last. He now battle with as much ferocity and hate as he did in a previous life, multiplied a thousand times by the sheer rage and depression he felt at being imprisoned in such a metallic Hell.
In his right arm a Plasma Cannon blazed as he unloaded shot after shot of flying miniature suns into the daemon, while his ornate Power Fist slammed into it's body with vicious impacts that could've toppled a small Imperial Knight over, the taut, thick flesh giving away at the edges of it's power field.
With haste, the Stormseer himself launched once more against the Bloodthirster, which was beginning to regain it's bearings. Just as he ascended to the skies however, the beast led out a vicious roar at the pummeling, which was inconveniencing it about as much as being repeatedly stung by a wasp.
With a swift movement, it's massive, armored fist impacted the Dreadnought's chassis with enough force to make a Titan halt, as the venerable fallen was launched upwards like a rocket, descending and crashing into the ground, a ruined husk hundreds of meters away. Nergui could make out through his enhanced eyes the sight of liquid leaking from the sarcophagus of the Mark IV body.
Whether Berke still lived or was at least one with the Emperor was anyone's guess however, as his psychic senses were too overwhelmed and saturated by the beacon that was the daemon before him, and his mind too occupied with the adrenaline rushing through his system, as his mouth moved in an unnatural tongue, calling forth the power of the storm. The daemon broke free of it's fiery restraints, only to have a bolt of lightning larger than it's entire body slam onto it mercilessly.
The flash was gone, and the daemon raised itself. One of it's great horns was missing, it's sharp teeth fell broken and chipped from it's mouth, and a trickle of blood slithered down it's neck. But it was not even close to finished. With a bellow, it swung it's massive whip at him, which the Stormseer responded to by screaming his own litany and engaging a cackling chain of electric death from his fingertips, that ensnared the daemon's own weapon.
Yet with cunning, the daemon pulled on the whip, dragging the Stormseer out of the sky at breakneck speed, and right into it's range. Without pause, the daemon raised his fist too fast for Nergui to react, punching the Astartes straight into the earth itself.
At the gargantuan impact, Nergui felt bones break, tendons snap, armor crack and organs puncture. Blood and acidic bile pooled into his moth and throat, even as it clotted. He'd lost all sensation in his lower left quarter. With dreadful inevitability he was pulled upwards, as a whip of thorns coiled around him like a living creature, it's vicious teeth biting at his exposed flesh through the armor, as his mind threatened to give at images of horrid frenzy and omnicidal debauchery.
Like a bolt of lightning, the whip cracked as it ascended at insane speeds, dragging his mangled body along with it, before plowing him into the ground once more, further compromising his armor and his injuries. The roars of the beast however were soon drowned out by the roars of weapon fire, as even from his miniature crater within the ground the Stormseer saw what happened next.
Captain Octavian and the rest had made it fully past the horde of lesser daemons, and were now engaging the Bloodthirster with everything they had. Every Bolter round, every Lascannon shot, every missile was directed at the massive body with the intent to utterly murder as it itself wanted to.
Assault Centurions and Terminators charged into the fray, fearless to a fault, hacking into the legs of the beast, Octavian among them. Both Librarians of the Doom Legion, Destrudo in particular, charged and blasted with psychic bolts of monstrous energy. The Dreadnoughts left fired relentlessly as they approached, slow and unyielding, ready to engage the monster as valiantly as their peer had.
And yet it was barely enough to keep the Greater Daemon at bay, as immaterial flesh that was rent apart mended itself supernaturally quick, if it was harmed at all. The creature roared again, as it's great axe rose and with it's fall three Centurions were bisected, before it's great whip lashed out like a coiled snake and penetrated through three Terminators and another Centurion, dragging them effortlessly into the dirt and mud just as he had been.
Seeing the dire situation, the Stormseer willed himself to his legs even as his secondary heart roared in his chest like it seldom had before. But under his power, bones were reknitted and flesh pulled itself together, just enough to keep him alive and fighting, albeit in horrible agony. He rose the air once more, a bloodied figure, yet as indomitable as his enemy was resilient.
With another roar, two lightning whips manifested this time, one chained to his arm and the other to his staff, as he barreled towards the daemon who was now in the process of meeting it's axe blade with the Captain's own swords. The clash happened before the Stormseer's intervention, and the Captain felt both his weapons shatter as his arms nearly broke from the impact.
A burning collective of Empyrean death energies crashed into the belly of the beast before it could finish it's job however, and it roared in frustration of a kill denied more so than any pain. It's abdomen was charred black as the wings of it's brother, and it turned once more to the Stormseer.
With newfound haste Nergui gathered as much psychic energy as he could, the power gathering at his staff's tip. His teeth were grit as every ounce of his strength was poured into the implement, as it cackled with all his psychic might. Then with a battle roar, just as the Bloodthirster was nearly upon him, he unleashed Hell on it unlike anything Macragge had seen on it's surface for a long time.
The flare of energy was visible from orbit, like a nuclear device going off, yet there was no gigantic explosion, more-so a concentrated burst of hurtful light that would be enough to flash boil a whole ocean in any other circumstance, were it not so compressed and focused.
The Stormseer dropped to the ground like a stone, feeling his knees buckle under his own weight, as all the mending he had achieved on his body came undone as his powers fled him, every last drop of energy devoted to the attack. And as the dust cloud cleared, he saw what caused his hearts to skip a beat, even in their frenzy to keep him alive.
The creature before him was hurt. It was hurt bad. It's head was half-incinerated, leaving a huge chunk of bone where a monstrous face should have been. Various other pieces of it's body where in a similar condition, and it's wings were in tatters. But it was still alive, it was still cognizant and it was pissed.
Another storm of fire aimed at it only served to enrage it further, as it threw it's giant axe into the mass of assaulting Marines, splitting one of the Doom Legion Dreadnoughts in two, killing three other Centurions and horribly mauling Destrudo. It then descended upon him, using it's free hand to grasp him in a crushing grip that nearly gave his body the last blow it needed to succumb.
However, it became clear that wasn't the creature intent, as it hovered the trapped Stormseer over it's mouth, which opened wide open. Renewed by the discovery that he was about to be eaten alive, he struggled within the grip, but it was fruitless, for the creature's massive hand was like a vice. Just as he was about to be crushed by regenerating gnashing teeth however, a battle scream that would've hurt mortal ears sounded over the conflict.
The Captain was crawling along the daemon's broken wing, carrying a huge Thunder Hammer he had looted from one of his fallen brethren. The beast tried shaking him off, but it had simply lost control over the broken appendage, resulting in merely a twitch. So his whip flared next, but it was for naught, for the Terminator had already jumped by that time, resulting in the only thing being maimed being the wing.
He had nearly arrived at the base of the wing when he jumped again, onto the daemon's shoulder, and the Bloodthirster simply gave up on it's lesser prey, dropping Nergui to the ground, who was content to lay there, for he could do nothing else. As it tried to grasp the Captain however, Octavian jumped willingly into the mouth of the beast, as it's jaw closed fast enough to sever one of his legs effortlessly.
To any outside observer, the Captain seemed dead, entirely gone in his brave but foolish decision. Yet, that assertion was quickly proven untrue as numerous flashes of light could be seen from the belly of the monster, as smoke began rising out of it's mouth.
Without pause, a different type of light took the place of the other ones, constant now instead of flashing, less intense, cold electric blue in contrast to blazing yellow. And the source of it was quickly made clear as a hammer head the size of a regular human's body tore through the monster's abdomen, surrounded in a haze of power and coiling wisps of lightning.
He barked something into the vox, which Nergui only now understood still existed, and he saw the last psyker in condition to fight respond to his Captain's call. He was a novice, likely only a Lexicanium, a newly assigned Librarian with minimal experience. His psychic potential was nothing to laugh at however, especially in such an agitated state.
He charged his attack, siphoning an unreal amount of energy from the Warp. Were he not careful he could lose himself. Nergui would've warned him, had his powers not fled him entirely and if he was still willing to listen, as the novice screamed with immaterial-borne agony, even as his fingers were nearly flash-boiled. But he did not yield.
A black ball of flames as dark as the void of space emerged before him, as his eyes glowed with unnatural colors. Then, with a final defiant shout, the terrible attack was launched. The Captain simply retreated back into the belly of the beast, seemingly hoping it would be enough to take the brunt of the assault as the daemon died.
The Warp flame wrought carnage upon the open wound first, but it also set the whole daemon on fire, a black gnawing flame that could be extinguished by no ordinary means. At last, the Bloodthirster, the most dangerous being in the galaxy short of a god, great causer of pain and suffering, felt pain itself as it's body crumbled to ash from the point of impact outward.
The Captain leapt through the fires, his armor mangled, charred and discolored, his leg from the knee-down missing, but alive. The young Librarian collapsed, and the daemon soon followed, it's flesh dissolving into the stuff of the Warp as it returned from whence it came.
Nergui sat there in the grave silence that ensued, his will to move fleeting. Then he remembered they all still had a job to do. Painkillers were being pumped into his system actively now, by his own body as well as what remained operational from his armor, which he also only now noticed.
With a grunt. he attempted to get up, only to have himself almost fall over, before being caught by a rough, giant hand. At his side, he saw a Centurion in the livery of his own Chapter.
"We advance still Stormseer," came Gan's voice through the helm. "Can you walk?"
He stared for a little while, then with supreme effort, still hanging onto the massive frame of the warsuit, he raised himself to his feet, taking his helmet off and discarding the ruined armor piece.
"Aye. I can walk."
In the skies above a duel commenced, two great winged beasts, one Imperial and one of Chaos, clashing into each-other with the force to level mountains. One's wings were metal, powered equally by science and occult magics, whereas the other's were purely thoughtform, almost vestigial, for their user could almost be just fine going on without them at all.
Manifest Destiny clashed against the daemon's great axe, dissolving a cloud formation in the process, kilometers worth of water vapor blown apart in an instant. Another clash, a broken mountain. Another, a new valley created. Yet another, and a crevice into the bowels of the earth was formed.
There they descended, their crashes and bashes unleashing untold forces upon the geology of Macragge, as the crevice became a whole cave system while they barreled through it, their speed imperceptible to anything but themselves, despite each of their lumbering masses.
The Bloodthirster roared, as it's aura spiked, a red haze that ballooned outward like a dust cloud, which would've torn and boiled anything within it's confines to bubbling mincemeat. It however, met an equally potent opponent, as the Custodian was clad in a golden cloak of pure psychic energy.
They continued battling underground, the sheer force of both their physical hits and immaterial powers carving out entirely new subterranean systems into the depths of the world. This was less a fight between two entities and more a conflict between two walking forces of nature, the Bloodthirster against the Emperor fragment within the Custodian.
The only thing that could compare to the spectacle was a duel between two Primarchs, a legendary feat that was only spoken of in reverent myths, and for good reason, as the wars between the demigods were just as much contests of raw Warp power as strength, spiritual and conceptual as much as physical.
Within their field of effect, laws of physics temporarily ceased functioning properly, time became strange and surreal, and would've appeared entirely nonsensical to an outside observer. The Custodian knew however that something would have to break the deadlock, lest their unchecked powers rip open a rift into the Immaterium itself, which would spell disaster for the already overencumbered defenses of the planet.
So he charged directly into the Greater Daemon, dodging nimbly both the axe and the whip, slamming into it's gargantuan body with monstrous force, rocketing both of them towards one of the many holes in the ground they had made. It was a minutes long flight to the edge of the atmosphere, before he broke off from the creature.
Already the effects of his actions were visible on it, as it's vibrant coloring had darkened, it's fiery eyes were duller, even it's size seemed to have decreased on a closer look. This was the weakness daemons all possessed. The further they were taken from their summoning source, and their source of power, mortal souls engaging in each of their patron's domains, the weaker they became.
In all practical circumstances, it was incredibly difficult to exploit, and unless distanced by a ridiculous margin, was hardly ever worth it, in the cases where it was possible. But Kronos possessed no such limitations, and that tiny bit of lost power was all he needed to turn the tide of the battle.
The manifestation lessened, and he converged on it like a vicious predator strangling helpless, diseased and old prey. He broke through the guard of the axe, restrained the whip with one arm even as it coiled around his armor and scrapped horribly off of it, and with his free hand launched Manifest Destiny straight into the heart of the beast.
The effect was near instantaneous, the nature of the weapon working as it dissolved immaterial flesh into nothing beyond nothing. Kronos pressed his advantage by slamming the beast, before pushing on the impaling instrument, causing it to go deeper and deeper. Then utterly silently, he pulled upwards, slicing a huge chunk of the abdomen and chest in two.
With a final death roar that was heard like a crack of thunder despite the nigh-nonexistent atmosphere, the creature went limp as it began falling down, it's body already disintegrating. Another foul Neverborn that would bother the realm of the living no longer.
He took a moment to breathe within the filtered air of his helmet. He watched the stars in the void, and the ugly miasma of shifting colors that now stained them. The universe's peace itself, if it had ever known it, was now in more jeopardy that it had ever been. And he would not stand idly by, as he collected his thought and blasted back down to the planet.
His return had been a somber affair. Seeing the state of his detachment, he had apologized for being unable to help, despite his equally dangerous battle. Yet, they were all transhuman warriors. And despite the losses, they soldiered on, few words being exchanged as they made for the Fortress.
The time to mourn, as always, would come later.
The area almost entirely cleared now, regular forces began to descend from their ships. Guardsmen from recruited regiments, Imperial Knights from volunteering Houses, columns upon columns of armor, the forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Adepta Sororitas, along with the rest of the Space Marines present in their detachment, now followed behind them.
But they still moved ahead as the other forces cleared and fortified the landing position, the spearhead of the assault continuing further without delay. Reinforcements were within reach anyway now.
They found the Fortress deathly deserted, yet the ring of battle never left their ears, as they saw what had likely caused the seemingly impossible: Dreadclaw Drop Pods, sunk into arguably the most important part of the entire superstructure, the Temple of Correction. Forces placed there would almost certainly have made for the Primarch's Shrine.
With renewed vigor and their hearts pumping into overdrive, each warrior broke off into a mad sprint, in some cases even running through walls entirely in trying to make to the place of the fighting, as roars of battle only got louder as they approached. The Doom Legion Astartes in particular were obviously fervent at knowing their gene-sire's barely maintained life was in jeopardy.
Finally, they arrived at the walls of the Temple itself, which Assault Centurions smashed through with no higher thought process. There, the sight that befell them was at once horrid and absolutely elating.
Dozens of Black Legion Astartes were fighting against Imperial defenders. Bodies littered the ground like a sculpture room. And at the heart of the onslaught, the clash between Chaos and Order, was the Primarch himself, Roboute Guilliman, alive and breaking through the enemy force like a tornado of devastation.
No words could describe the feeling that engulfed the Marines that had just entered the chamber: confusion, surprise, joy, honor and humbleness flooding their system. Some Doom Legion Marines outright cried shamelessly at the sight, and none could blame them, for if there was such an occasion to forgo their professionalism, it was now.
Then the moment was broken, as the Primarch and his defenders were still under assault, and they would not sit idly by. A roar engulfed the vox and the room entirely, as Chapter and name and title and blood became unimportant in the face of such a task. Each Battle-Brother found their blood boiling as they charged into the fray, fighting with more righteous rage than they had ever displayed before.
Even Kronos himself was caught up in the moment, and in one of the few times in his life, raised his voice to a booming thunder as he rammed into the Black Legion:
"For the Emperor and the Primarch!"
The lives of the Heretic Astartes were numbered in minutes then, sandwiched between the enraged defenders and the even more enraged reinforcements. Not one of them was going to escape this building alive and every soul there knew it. They tried fighting even harder for it, but their morale was shot at the sight of the two demigods slaughtering them.
The Primarch and the Custodian moved like rampaging bulldozers through the ranks of the enemy, with each one of their strikes ending multiple lives. Where Guilliman was wrath incarnate, a practical living, rampaging barrage of missiles tearing through the ranks of his foes, Kronos was more akin to an automatic sniper, precise, concise, yet no less deadly.
The two leaders met in the center of the room, where the Black Legion were being slaughtered like cattle. They needed no words to be exchanged, they had allies and they had enemies, and nothing more was required to be known for them to do their job.
Soon a hundred Black Legionaries became fifty, then twenty, then ten, and then none as the last was simultaneously pierced by the Custodian as the Primarch's Hand of Dominion crushed his head.
A great feeling of relief but also strangeness washed over the room then, as Bolter shots stopped firing, cartridges stopped being used and thrown to the ground, and bodies stopped hitting the floor. The Custodian and Primarch at last became aware of each-other, observing the other as if sizing them up, their armor making them of almost equal size if not equal bulk.
Then a noise broke the dead silence that had engulfed everything. All turned to see Octavian dropping to one knee, a piece of metal support melded to his remaining leg armor as a makeshift prosthetic. The Captain of the Doom Legion removed his helm, laying it on the ground.
A hard-edged face of many lines and scars met the eyes of the present. Experienced, wartorn, yet, handsome in a way. It was topped with shaved blonde hair much the same in coloration as the Primarch's own from historic dais, and piercing blue eyes that would've normally shot through anyone with their harshness contained only humility and the love of a son in them.
It occurred to Kronos that he had never seen the Captain's face, even as others around them dropped to their knees and did the same, all gestures of reverence towards the awakened demigod among them.
At last, the Custodian's turn came as the entire chamber had been driven to their knees already. But even in such a moment, he was not a lesser of the Primarch. It was hard to tell whether he was an equal, but he would not kneel.
He did take his helmet off, and he did incline his head respectfully, but beyond that, he waited now for Guilliman to make his move. Which, ever the diplomat, he did.
Taking his own helmet off, and breathing in the first whiff of unfiltered air in over 10,000 years, Guilliman sheathed the massive flaming sword that he now wielded, and held out his relatively regular-sized gauntlet. For the first time in a long time, Kronos allowed himself a small smile as he rocked the Primarch's hand solidly.
"It is good to have you back, Avenging Son."
Author's note: And that concludes that LONG ASS chapter. I hope this extra big addition makes up somewhat for the longer-than-average wait.
Not much to say about this one, as I'm quite happy with how it came out. It's been quite a while since I've gotten to flex my battle writing muscles, though maybe next time I'll keep things a bit more concise.
Anyway, that's about it for these notes. See y'all in the next update. Dome of Bones out.