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The support voidship pulsated with foul energies as it worked to repair the damages wrought upon its siblings. Tears were mended by the raw psychic energies of the tiny Warp storms that danced within metaconstruct pylons, ammunition and other resources such as slaves and blood sacrifices were distributed accordingly. Echoes of the screams of sacrificed souls emanated from the bloodied altars on the bridge as the cultists herded in more and more slaves to fuel the hungry rifts.
The worlds of the Imperium lay within reach, with only a handful of loyalist ships in their way, it all seemed too easy. But the heretics lacked a key resource in their assault upon the Agripinaan sector- good strategists. Without a leader to give voice upon the simplest of tactics, the assault fleet was little more than a pack of rabid wolves, descending upon fresh meat without a thought to the consequences of such a brash action.
They did not see the Valkyrie transporters hurled in their direction, shrugging it off as a futile attempt of the weak Imperial forces. They did not see the grim warrior clad in pure white as he smashed through their hull and breached their defenses. So absorbed were they in the intoxicating scent of death and hypnotic siren-calls of the Ruinous Powers, they neglected to heed the warnings of the alarm klaxons until it was too late.
The alarm blares overhead as the Valkyrie hatch opens, with the Nameless Hero leaning outward to deal the Chaos Construct a heavy blow.
"Alright, let's see just how powerful you are." Horus whispered to his weapon, stretching forth his arm to deliver a blast of light that lances through realspace. He had not accounted for the effects of the lightspear in the void, but the results were nothing short of devastating.
To the guardsmen operating the craft, they saw their liege hold the power of the Emperor in his hands, delivering holy judgement upon the enemies of the Imperium. To Horus, it meant nothing more than raw psychic energies contained within an adamantine shell. His father was a master craftsman, with this weapon yet another testament to that trait. Beneath his helm, Horus was smiling.
The support vessel could not withstand the power surge the light had brought with it, and it began to writhe and shatter from within. The traitor tech-priests did what they could to reroute auxillary capacitors to stem the current, but in the end it was too late. Horus hurled another bolt of light to ensure the voidship's destruction, then repeated the act until the support ship bursts in a ball of fire and debris. Quick in its demise, the vacuum of space snuffs out the flames, gravity scatters the remains in all directions, which led to them pattering like a hailstorm onto the surrounding ships- be it traitor or loyalist.
Without the support ship to back them, as was predicted by Horus, the voidships had no sure foothold on the Agripinaan sector. This was made even worse for them now that the Imperial fleets were back in force.
Battlegroup Imperatis regained vox-communication capability, and Captain Maranda wasted no time requesting for reinforcements. With the spacial distortions down and the warp inhibitions disrupted, the Imperial reinforcements soon picked up on the Golgo's Respite's astropathic messages and acted accordingly. Though warp-travel was rendered perilious due to the Eye's growing instability, the reinforcements were able to just slip through the narrow tear in realspace to assist their comrades in the defense of Agripinaa. This caused a heavy toll on the psykers aboard their ships, most paid with their lives as their brains were liquified within their heads, but the result was well worth the cost.
Agripinaa, the industrial heart of the Cadian Gate, would not stand alone.
This was a welcome surprise for Battlegroup Imperatis, and the combined fleets converged on the traitors until they run them down. Angered by the brazen assault on their worlds, the defense forces relentlessly hammered upon the battered enemy fleet like a smith would upon an anvil until the only thing left for them to do was to secure the worlds below as they were beset by the traitor legions who were able to make planetfall.
Horus Lupercal stormed the world below alongside Aggregius and two reserve regiments of faithful guardsmen. It was no secret that the sergeant disapproved of the use of lesser men in a campaign against the forces of Chaos, knowing they of all people are more susceptible to the taint than any human. Their faith was weak, though their valor could be spoken of as commendable.
He spoke no more of this when the Nameless Hero chided him for his lack of confidence. "They are warriors of the Imperium same as us. They may be made of flesh and cloth, unlike us who are wrought of iron, but they serve a higher purpose. Instead, praise them for their courage, brother."
"If you say so." Aggregius replied with a hint of reluctance in his voice.
The Valkyrie makes its drop on the battlefields of Agripinaa Prime, where towering spires and refineries once lined its face. The industrial world did not weather the assault well, though it weathered the terraformation worse to begin with. Through the clouds of toxic gases and industrial wastes, the landing party pierces the black veils covering the skies of Agripinaa. Horus' keen eyes, enhanced by the visor of his helm, scanned the broken landscape of the forge-capital.
He had seen whole worlds burn in the fires of battle, and this one was no different. Streaks of bolter-discharge and smoky trails of launched warheads filled the air below while bodies torn apart in the resulting clash of steel lay strewn all over the bloodstained streets.
Maranda's voice crackles over the vox-channel as she reports her findings to the Nameless Hero. "My lord, I've received reports from the surface. If I'm not mistaken, those loyalist ground troops appear to register as Blood Angels. Four companies have responded to the call for Agripinaa's defense, but it seems to be a losing battle!"
"Blood Angels?" Horus breathed, a vision of his long dead brother and friend flashed before his eyes as he heard the chapter's name. Even after his death, Sanguinius' chapter endured and continued to serve the Imperium. Remembering the noble primarch in life as well as his betrayal, Horus felt ashamed. Yet, he also felt hope, for this was another step in the path to redemption.
"Look! What is that abomination?!" Aggregius exclaimed, pointing out the towering figure bursting from the dust of a collapsed basilica.
"A daemon. This just makes things a little harder for us." Horus declared spitefully, turning to the guardsmen standing by. "Ready your weapons, steel your hearts and minds, servants of the Imperium. Even in the midst of battle, Chaos shall seek to ensnare you by any means."
"Fill your hearts with hate!" The commisar began passionately, "That there shall remain no room for doubt! Seek the enemy and strike with righteous fury! That there shall remain no room for fear! With sword and bolter, lasgun and faith, go forward and sow ruin!"
"For the Emprah!" The veteran company cheered, bolting out of the Valkyrie with the two transhumans and their officers at the helm, eager to bolster the ranks of the battered Blood Angels chapter.
Horus was careful not to stomp on the smaller guardsmen as he barreled into the fray, knowing that in their zeal they would not be as cautious as he. For every now and then, a guardsman would bump into his leg and stumble awkwardly out of his way. Soon, they learned to steer clear of the towering figure as he joins them in battle.
The guardsmen leap into the crevices of fallen debris and wrenched pipelines before engaging the enemy. Horus and Aggregius did not have to worry about cover, for they themselves were the wall that kept the guardsmen safe.
Armed with a melta-gun, courtesy of the requisitions unit aboard the Golgo's Respite, Aggregius made manifest his hatred towards the traitors of the Imperium by flames of pure prometheum. The blue streak of light pours forth its wrath upon the armored foes, melting ceramite and warped metal to a pulp as the sergeant hoses the Chaos spacemarines.
Horus fought gloriously that day, truly a sight that the guardsmen would not forget. Many had witnessed the valor and strength of the God Emperor's sons, but only a select few were able to pass the tale on. But the way this one moved, even with as simple as a word, they knew he was different, far from the ordinary spacemarine.
Perhaps, the Emperor knew the guardsmen would hold his son in awe that he wouldn't even bother masking his psychic form. Awe was better than suspicion. In any case, they were more than grateful for his aid in the sector's defense.
The Blood Angels, weary but fueled with an intense rage as they were overcome by the Red Thirst, they turned their baleful gaze upon their new allies in surprise. For a moment, joy found its way into their blazing hearts as they realized they were not forsaken in their task, but then was snuffed out by their desire to rend the traitor marines limb from limb. With bestial yells and shouts amplified by their vox-grills, the loyalists waded in deeper with the servants of Khorne in the melee.
Horus' heart sank when he saw Sanguinius' sons in this state, remembering clear as day the exchange between him and his brother primarch concerning this genetic flaw. Betrayal, yet again wrought by his own hands.
Determination overcame despair as he joined the Blood Angels in the fight, raising the lightspear high above his head and bringing it down with such force that it shook the ground when he stabbed it upon the cracked street of the city. The resulting shockwave sent a powerful surge of psychic energy that struck the Chaos spacemarines wherever they stood, miraculously leaving the Blood Angels unharmed as it reduced them to ash and charred armor remains!
"By the Sanguinor!" One of them gasped, shock overcoming the Red Thirst for a moment. "Who are you?"
"I am your brother, your friend, your ally." Horus replied simply, raising the spear and pointing its tip at the greater daemon as its attention was drawn to the sudden spike of psychic disruption. "Come with me, let us strike this abomination from this world!" The Blood Angels were more than happy to obey, rallying to the imposing figure in white as he charged across the valley of bone and ash, drawing near to the daemon and the war host at its heels.
The chatter of bolter-fire rang through the stillness of the field between the charging parties, loyalist and heretic alike throwing enraged screams and maddened cries as the distance closes.
Horus spots the leader of the Chaos warband, noting the distinguishable additions to the otherwise unremarkable armor, and runs towards him, knowing that in slaying the champion would cripple the warband's resolve.
The unholy and bloodstained symbol of Khorne was etched upon flayed skin, sewn over the aspirant's bared forehead. In one hand, he carried a jagged-toothed axe with a bloodied horned ball carved upon the head in the shape of a bristling skull. In the other, he carried bolter adorned with the flesh and teeth of some great beast. His armor had been stripped of its pauldrons as well as its gauntlets, showing the bare skin beneath that was now covered in dragonscales- a gift from the Blood God. The madman's eyes blazed red with the raw eldritch energies of Khorne's strength, his mouth hung open to reveal a maw set with row upon row of teeth filed down fangs. Frothing spit dribbled down his scarred chin as he set his warp-maddened gaze upon the Nameless Hero, voice echoing with a thousand other voices stemming from the Brass Domain.
"Maim! Kill! Burn! MAIM! KILL! BURN!"
But when his eyes set upon the spear in his challenger's hand, Kossolax the Foresworn saw the astral form of the Emperor at the side of the white-clad stranger, it was here the champion of Khorne felt an emotion long forgotten creep into his soul. For a moment, he felt fear.
Then, the daemons took over, and Kossolax charged in like the mad dog he was. Horus, unfazed by the lunatic's animalistic howls, met his assault, easily anticipating and parrying the aspirant's strikes. There was no skill in the champion's dealings, no finesse or strategy, only pure rage and relentless flailing.
Sanguinary High Priest Numitor halted in his recitals of the holy canticles to witness the exchange between the godlike battle-brother in white and the bloodstained servant of Khorne. All were driven to a frenzy as the solar hours passed, but not him. Like a stone sitting in the middle of a river, the man distinguished himself by an eerie calm even in the midst of all this chaos.
Kossolax, upon seeing that he could not best the unknown challenger, brought up the horn blessed with the Blood God's malevolent toucht to his lips. The resulting bellow brought the Bloodthirster's attention to answer the call of its master. It ignored the Blood Angels of the Death Company leaping from the broken spires to assail it from behind, stomping angrily to aid Kossolax in his duel.
Horus remained unthreatened by this gesture, considering it a welcome change in the battle, for it will lessen the casualties on the Blood Angels as the greater daemon would focus what little attention it had on him.
The Primarch gripped his spear firmly and swung it down upon the Foresworn leader, slicing his axe in two as its blade connected with the handle, rendering it useless.
Kossolax let out a scream of frustration and lunged at Horus, intent on gouging his eyes out with his bare hands. His recklessness proved to be his downfall, but the aspirant cared little about his own life, confident that his blood-sacrifices had earned him enough favor for the Blood God to bring him back once his soul was banished into the Warp.
Horus' spear thrusted deep into his chest and spilled black blood from its entry wound to the hole it made through his back. The madman grinned evilly and laughed in spite of the pain, Horus glanced up to see the greater daemon already upon him with its axe raised high to strike. The smile fades from Kossolax's ugly face when he realized something was amiss, for the spearblade burned not only his body and armor- but if felt like it was eating away at his soul too!
Panic-stricken, Kossolax called out desperately for his god to save him from eternal oblivion, feeling the maw of despair swallowing him when Khorne answered with silence.
Horus tore the weapon free from the traitor's chest and dove aside just as the daemon slammed its axe down upon the earth where he stood moments before. Kossolax fell to his knees, screaming as the holy flames consumed him, leaving nothing save for the ashes of his corpse.
In the Warp, the brooding Lord of Skulls scoffed at the soul snuffed out in the material realm. He didn't care about Kossolax's demise, nor did he find himself lacking when the soul never returned to the Brass Domain. He only cared about the blood spilled upon Agripinaa, whether it be loyalist or traitor- it didn't matter.
They all serve him in the end.
The darkness lifts in the tomb when the circuit was re-established. Green light surrounds the ante-chamber where the Archmagos beheld the necron artefact sitting upon the pedestal covered in ancient necrontyr runes.
After days of constant digging, repelling of Ork invaders and the guardians of the ancient tomb, he finally found it. Veilwalker lived up to her name, enigmatic in her instructions but delivering as promised- which was more than he could say for the sources he'd come to rely on lifetimes ago.
Unafraid to interact with the artefact then and there, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl made the necessary preparations, both for his immediate study of the necron bauble and the establishment of security checkpoints throughout the known routes of the tomb catacombs. Satisfied that all was done, he attached the interactive devices and cables to the necron artefact and allowed his trusted deciphering systems to begin their work.
The results were nothing short of spectacular, yet for all his amazement for the discovery of so much secrets, Cawl realized many were too damning to be exploited at this time. Treading carefully through the maze of the ancient digital network, the Archmagos sifted through the mountains of data to obtain what he came for, ignoring the temptation to revel in his discovery.
Then, by mere chance, he found it.
In a galaxy replete with mysteries, the Cadian Pylons are amongst the most enduring. Despite millennia of study, the Adeptus Mechanicus long failed to discover the purpose of the pylons. Servitors sent within invariably ceased to function or suffered circuit overload; all attempts to breach the structures' gleaming surfaces met with failure. Any recovered data was fragmentary at best, and contradictory at worst. Even the identity of the pylons' creators was shrouded in mystery.
But now, Cawl knew everything. They were of Necron origin, erected over 65 million solar years ago by the Necrons during their ancient war with the Old Ones to serve as a defence against the psychic abilities of the Warp - the Necrons' only real vulnerability. The pylons essentially acted as anti-psychic field emitters, restricting the activity of the Immaterium in proximity to them.
It made perfect sense why so many of them were seen scattered on the surface of the worlds adjacent of the Cadian Gate, where the Eye of Terror now writhed and grew with each passing year. At this point, all thoughts of suspicion towards the eldar harlequin's ulterior motives were set aside. Cawl knew he had to make haste towards Obscurus, having received recent reports of a massive mobilization of Chaos forces- the largest ever seen in a millennia.
Packing up everything, including the necron artefact, the Archmagos left the desert planet for Cadia. To his horror, Belisarius Cawl soon found out that warp-travel had been rendered impossible due to the spacial distortions found in the segmentum.
Sub-light would be too slow, in his opinion, there may not be much of Cadia left by the time he gets there.
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Might be too early, but I'm gonna write it down anyway.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, my dearest readers! Enjoy the holidays ( I know I will ) and thank you so much for your continued support of this fic!