"It has been a long time since I fought a duel like this, Leman Russ." Khorne said. "You are among an honoured few to face my blades."
"I intend to be among the honoured few who faced your blades and prevailed." Leman said, his eyes darkly serious.
"That would be few indeed." Khorne said.
"Mister Russ!" Admu shouted from the stands. "You will win! I believe in you!" she said.
"My niece thinks very highly of you, Leman Russ." Khorne said. "I sincerely hope you will not disappoint her." Leman dug his heels into the dirt.
Khorne walked forward with a slow, deliberate pace, the sound of his armored boots ringing out like a death knell. Within the darkness of the 4-horned helmet's visor, Leman could see the war god's fiery red eyes beaming like dying stars. His twin swords crackled with a perpetual flame, and his black-armored form was wreathed in a thin layer of smoke. He dug his front foot into the earth, and Leman braced himself. Khorne seemed to glide across the ground, attacking with both swords at once, swinging them one after another in one smooth, unbroken motion. Leman rolled to the side just in time to avoid the arc of Khorne's swing, but he had to raise his weapon to block the next attack. It did not deflect the strike, instead knocking Leman back several meters. Khorne's movements were unlike anything Leman had seen before. He did not move like a warrior swinging a weapon, but rather like a mighty river flowing across eons-old weathered stone or the orbits of stellar bodies across the void. He was a force of nature, a tempest of fire and steel. Leman slashed the earth with Starvore, creating a wave of charged debris which rippled towards Khorne. In response, the war god drove his swords into the earth and created a wall of flame which absorbed the debris like a cresting wave crashing against a sea-cliff.
Out of the flames Khorne shot forth, his swords carving the air and leaving trails of fire as he sundered the earth with each swing. Leman was tossed across the arena by the shockwaves of Khorne's strikes, all of his genetically enhanced strength and enhanced senses doing little more than to soften the relentless onslaught of attacks. Every time their weapons clashed, Leman was sent flying and his limbs suffered intense pain from even making contact with the war god's preternatural strength. Russ felt less like he was fighting a warrior and more like he was attempting to survive a natural disaster; each of Khorne's attacks were a cataclysm unto themselves, Leman merely acting as a hapless bystander caught up in the destruction.
Leman was knocked back against the wall of the arena, falling to one knee and breathing heavily. He struggled to his feet, only to see Khorne throwing one of his swords like a javelin. Leman rolled out of the way just in time, and the projectile embedded itself into the wall.
Perhaps I can take advantage of th-
Khorne raised his hand and the sword began to glow, wrenching itself out of the wall and hurtling back towards him landing securely in his grip once again.
Terra be damned!
Khorne leapt into the air with an unnatural agility, careening towards Leman with his blades in tow. The primarch struck the earth beneath himself with his axe, creating a shockwave which violently propelled him backwards and narrowly allowed him to escape the war god's fiery impact. Khorne emerged from the dust in a whirlwind of fiery steel, his sword clashing with Leman's weapons and sending him flying backwards. Dazed, Leman felt a familiar presence lurking in the periphery of his vision as Khorne slowly approached.
You damned mongrel… you said you would help me! Leman thought, sensing the spectral wolf. I am being tossed about like a longship in the mightiest of Fenrisian storms, is this all that your power amounts to?
Your fear and doubt hold you back.
What?
I can sense them. They weigh heavily on your spirit, preventing you from harnessing my full power: the power to fell a god. Unless you can cast off your apprehensions, you will perish.
What apprehensions? I am a primarch, and a son of Fenris! I fear nothing!
Are you sure, Leman Russ? Until you can confront your fears, you will remain weak.
The presence disappeared, and Leman rolled out of the way to avoid an arcing slash from Khorne's greatsword. Feeling the fatigue weighing down on him, he attempted to digest what the spirit had said.
Fear? Doubt? I was designed to not fear death, nor doubt my duty. What is it that could trouble me?
Amidst the fighting his thoughts returned to his experiences in the depths of Slaanesh's palace, and of the vision he had when he first came to this place. The state of his father, the state of the Imperium when he had left, the fates of his brothers, of his sons… he had been in the warp for 10,000 years, and had nary an idea of the current state of the galaxy. What if, upon his return, there would be no Imperium to return to? What of Fenris? His father? His legion?
He shook his head, burying his troubled thoughts. He had no time for such distractions. Gripping his weapons tightly, he mustered all the strength left in his body and let out a raspy war howl. He charged Khorne with Mjalnar raised, the armored opponent raising his red blade in preparation. Leman poured all of his might into his swing, his legendary frost blade directed straight towards the god's heart. Time slowed to a standstill as the distance between the two swords closed, Leman's heart burning with the last of his willpower until finally…
Mjalnar shattered into pieces upon contact, and Khorne's red blade cut a deep gash through Leman's chest. The primarch tumbled backwards, landing on his hands and knees and spitting up blood. His vision was shaky and blurred, but he could just barely see the broken remains of his former sword scattered across the ground. The blade-pieces crunched beneath Khorne's black metal boots as he walked towards him, the war god's red sword dripping with blood and supernatural fire. Leman's mind was reeling, and with great difficulty he shakily rose to his feet.
Holding his axe in two hands Leman raised the weapon weakly to block the war god's next strike, which sent him flying backwards. Leman's vision was spinning, and his entire body was wracked with pain. Blood poured from his chest wound, and his breaths were labored and gurgling. He struggled to stand. Khorne's shadow loomed over him, his dreadful outline Illuminated by the lightning overhead. Leman's defiant expression was twisted by pain. Khorne raised both of his swords, and with the force of a meteor they hurtled downwards. Leman, lacking the strength to evade, hurriedly raised his axe to stop it. The force of Khorne's strike drove Leman to one knee, the earth buckling and cracking beneath him. His entire body screamed with unimaginable pain, as the weight of a mountain bore down on him. Fractures appeared in his power armor as the sound of overworked servos burning out crackled in the air. Starvore groaned, the enchanted axe struggling to withstand the might of Khorne's strength. Leman could feel the microfractures forming along his bones and the tears of his muscle fibers. His hearts burned, and his mind cried out in silence.
He remembered his days on Fenris, until he met his father. He remembered his sons, and the hardships they endured together from the Great Crusade to Horus's betrayal. He remembered his brothers, taken from him and his father one by one until so few remained. He remembered the day he was called to the Eye of Terror for this doomed quest, how he abandoned the Imperium, his sons, all of humanity to an unknown fate. Even if he did succeed, would there be an Imperium for him to return to? Or was humanity merely a corpse, a lingering shadow, like his father? Were his sons merely a memory in the minds of whatever remained of mankind? Or were even they forgotten? Would his death merely be the last folly in a chain of meaningless tragedies, ending with the fire of man finally being extinguished?
Tears mingled amidst the blood and sweat which soaked his face, as his vision blurred until he could see nothing but an endless, white abyss.
He awoke to a cold wind blowing across his face, as he could feel pinpricks of snow landing on his skin. He was in a windswept wasteland of ice, in the midst of a blinding blizzard. He rose to his feet, his body feeling weightless and numb.
Is this… the realm of Morkai? Leman thought.
He walked across the snowblind landscape, the wind carrying muffled sounds of clashing steel. Leman was alerted to a presence behind him, a large metal figure which appeared not to notice him.
…a dreadnought?
"Brothers!" the great sarcophagus said, raising the lightning claw which adorned its left limb. Leman looked into the dark visor of the metal warrior.
"Bjorn?" Leman said.
A host of Space Wolves appeared from the white void of the snowstorm, heeding the call of the ancient dreadnought.
"My sons…" Leman said.
Bjorn spoke to the massed warriors assembled behind him:
"Our accursed enemies, slaves of the Great Devourer, have dared to tread upon the surface of our world once again. They believe they can take it from us, that our defeat will open the way for that upstart warmaster Abaddon to lead his 'crusade' of rabble and cowards all the way to Holy Terra. They believe that we will put up little resistance, that the final legacy of the Vlka Fenryka will be one of submission and defeat. What do all of you say to that?"
The company of marines let out a collective war cry which made even the howling winds cower in fear.
"That is what I thought. Now let us show that one-eyed red bastard a customary Fenrisian welcome! For Russ and the Allfather!" the dreadnought shouted.
"For Russ and the Allfather!" the Space Wolves echoed.
The sky erupted above them, and the legions of hell poured out from within. Great spires of twisted silver descended from warp-spawned portals, their surfaces superheated by atmospheric entry. Daemonic hordes and traitor marines emerged from clouds of empyrean energy as the sundered earth spewed forth seas of molten lava.
"CHARGE!" bjorn bellowed, leading the pack of Space Wolves head-on into the enemy. Axes and chainswords fell upon daemonic teeth and claws, and the twisted progeny of Horus's rebellion clashed with Leman Russ's loyal sons. orbital bombardments and warp-magic artillery exploded all around them, the struggle for Fenris extending all the way from its surface to the void surrounding it. For every Space Wolf slain, he took tenfold daemons with him; they fought with such ferocity that Leman could not help but feel a surge of pride within him. He walked unnoticed amongst the carnage, bullets and energy bolts passing through his phantom form.
"What is this? A vision of the past?" Leman said. The spectral wolf appeared next to him.
No, this is the present. Or at least, as close as we can be to it in the convoluted tides of the immaterium.
Leman looked around at the chaotic surroundings, taking in the familiar landscape of his homeworld marred by chaotic invasion. Bolter fire and magic blasts filled the air, and warp-forged daemonblades clashed with frost axes. At the center of the battle stood the immense dreadnought which housed the ancient body of Bjorn the Fell Handed, the last remaining member of Leman Russ's Wolfguard. In his electrified claws he held a squirming daemon in a deathly grip while his autocannon tore through waves of the warp-spawned abominations.
"Bjorn… the one I left behind to lead the Vlka Fenryka in my absence…" he said. He knew that after 10 millennia there would likely be few if any of the mortal men Russ had known left in the galaxy, but to see one of his most loyal sons still serving in the name of he and his father after all this time… the feeling was indescribable. He could not tell anyone of the nature of his mission when he journeyed into the Eye of Terror due to its importance, not even his most trusted sons. In the deepest recesses of his mind, the Wolf King had always feared that he would tread the same path as his father by abandoning his sons without explanation. That they would feel betrayed, and be led into damnation. Yet here he saw no such thing. His sons fought against the legions of the Ruinous Powers with the same flame of righteous fury and pride that he had lit inside of them ten thousand years ago.
"After all this time, after I abandoned my sons without explanation…" Russ said. "Still their hearts burn with just as much fire as they did during the Great Crusade." Russ felt a cauldron of emotions boiling inside of his chest, an amalgamation of longing, pride, and relief.
You did not abandon them. Within each of them is a part of you, a part of me. Even if you did not know it, you have been with them all this time.
The wolf turned to Leman, and bowed its head. Leman, sensing its intention, cautiously reached
out his hand. He placed it on the wolf's head, and was engulfed by a burst of golden light. He saw brief glimpses of the threads of fate, woven together into a tapestry which told the saga of the Vlka Fenryka. He saw their victories, their defeats, their triumphs and tribulations. He saw his sons grow in his absence from brazen berserkers he feared would eventually succumb to their baser instincts to an order of truly honorable warriors, ones which would always uphold justice and what they believed to be right even in the face of those above them. His sons had not only survived without him, they had grown and matured. He felt the weight of 10,000 years of history, but it was not a burden. It was a trophy, a cherished reminder of his sons' unflinching loyalty.
Here in the immaterium, Russ was unsure of many things. He knew not the true state of the Imperium. He knew not the fates of the rest of his loyal brothers, if any remained at all. He knew not how much of humanity remained in the galaxy, nor how far they had fallen. Yet he now knew two things for certain: his father, as fractured and disabled as he was, still lived, and his legion stood strong. As far as Leman Russ was concerned, so long as he had his father behind him and his sons by his side, even if the entire universe stood against him, he would fight on.
He retracted his hand from the wolf's forehead.
Have you seen what you wished to see?
"Everything and more." Russ said. "I once promised to my sons that I would return to them when they needed me most. I cannot fall this day, lest that promise be broken. I will fight on, and I will win." he said with absolute resolution.
Then accept my strength and allow me to show you my true power, Wolf King Leman Russ.
The wolf howled, and Leman's surroundings dissolved in a brilliant white light.
Leman Russ opened his eyes.
A howling wind descended upon the Colosseum. Khorne, still bearing down on his defiant opponent, noticed hoarfrost growing on the edges of his armor. A supernatural energy coursed through Leman's body as the exothermic reactors within his armor rose from a loud hum to a deafening roar. The ground beneath him buckled, but Leman did not yield. He pushed his body to its limit and beyond, pushing back against the god of war's strength. The sound of groaning metal filled the frozen air, as Khorne shifted his footing. To his disbelief, the mortal was not only still alive; he was getting stronger. Through clenched teeth, Leman growled in determination. The ground beneath him froze over, as he rose from one knee. Khorne's swords trembled as he struggled to keep his opponent down. Leman's voice raised to a fearsome roar, and Starvore crackled with ethereal lightning in response. With one final push, Leman thrust the axe upward in a blast of empyrean energy which engulfed a large part of the arena. Khorne's swords were knocked back, his black sword Traitorsbane flying out of his grip and impaling in the dirt. The god of war stumbled backwards, nearly knocked off his feet by the shockwave. As the dust settled, he could see his opponent clearly. The plates of Leman's armor had become so hot they glowed white-orange. Golden energy coursed beneath his skin, and the ground froze wherever he stepped. His eyes were yellow flames, and his transformed, bestial face bore elongated fangs and an expression of unfathomable ferocity. Iceborn winds coiled around him, and clouds of steam billowed from his mouth and nose with every breath.
Admu watched with rapt attention as Khorne stood straight and tall, his demeanor shifting slightly. He raised his hand to recall Traitorsbane. Leman's eyes widened and he leapt into action, scrambling to grab the hilt of the fallen sword. The blade pulled itself from the ground, but was stopped by Leman's grip. He struggled to hold it in place, and Khorne's empty hand tightened into a fist as he attempted to take back his weapon. Leman's feet dragged along the earth, pulled by the supernatural will of the sword. With a harrowing battle-cry, Leman poured his strength into his arm and tore the sword from the invisible force which held it. In a blast of fire and lightning, both Leman and Khorne were knocked back. Khorne looked on with surprise as Leman raised the flaming sword in one hand with his axe in the other.
"So this is your true strength, son of Revelation." Khorne said, gripping his red sword Oathsworn in both hands. "Then let the true battle commence!" Khorne charged forward with a deep and mighty yell, and Leman charged forth in turn with a bellowing howl.
The sound of thunder splitting the heavens above the Colosseum was drowned out by the deafening sound of the two warriors' blades clashing below. Khorne's methodical, deliberate strikes were evenly matched against Leman's bestial ferocity, their flaming swords casting arcs of fire each time they met. The two fighters dashed back and forth across the arena like a savage dance, the speed of their movements bewildering to the mortal eye. Khorne took Oathsworn and dragged it across the ground, swinging it upwards and sending a wave of molten rock and flaming debris in Leman's direction. The primarch rolled out of the way, and was faced with Khorne's blade lunging towards him. Leman took his sword and axe together and thrust them into the earth, creating a shockwave of electrified flame which knocked the god of war backwards into the wall of the arena with a loud thud. Then, before Khorne had time to recover, Leman's thrown axe embedded into the wall next to him and began to crackle with graven energy. The wall of the arena exploded with prodigious force, sending dust and chunks of stone flying in all directions. Khorne stumbled forward, dazed and disoriented, and tried to regain his footing. Out of the dust-choked air, Leman pounced with his flaming sword raised. Trails of fire lit the hazy dust cloud from within as Leman attacked with a berserker's fury. Khorne's sword moved with dizzying speed as he blocked each flurry of blows the primarch unleashed, all the while the god of war was slowly pushed back by the overwhelming onslaught. Leman paused for a moment out of exhaustion. Khorne used the opportunity to raise his sword in both hands and swing downwards towards his fatigued opponent. A column of fire and smoke erupted before him, and the walls of the Colosseum shook. Breathing heavily, Khorne believed for a moment that the fight was over; before noticing Leman was not beneath his blade. Out of the smoke Leman surged forth, his blade slicing the air as it hurtled towards Khorne. The god of war raised his sword to block the strike, before the black blade struck his head and sent him hurtling backwards. Khorne's red sword clattered on the charred, blood-soaked earth along with his black, four-horned helm. The war god lay on his back, breathing heavily. Rivulets of blood spilled from the slash along his pale, ashen face. He had dark circles around his glowing red eyes, and a tangled mane of auburn-red hair. Leman pointed the tip of his sword at the god's exposed throat.
Khorne, god of war and bloodshed, do you yield? Leman spoke in a booming voice.
Khorne glared at him with a smoldering expression. The two stared at one another with fiery eyes, before Khorne finally spoke:
"I yield."
Spectators lept from their seats in elation, as the Colosseum saw the greatest upset in its history. Not only had Leman Russ defeated the greatest mortal champions of the realm, but he had even felled the god of war himself. Admu was filled with joy, a wide beaming smile painted across her face. However, her expression soon turned to shock. Leman began to stumble and stagger, as the supernatural energy drained from his body. His face and eyes returned to normal, and his weapons clattered to the ground as he collapsed upon his back. Had Leman been conscious, he would've felt the most terrible and intense pain in his entire existence.
Healers and surgeons were called from the realms of all four gods in an attempt to prevent the mortally wounded primarch from succumbing to his injuries. Nurgle's children administered medicinal herbs, while multi-limbed surgeons from Slaanesh's palace attempted to keep Leman's body in one piece. Strange, bronze constructs with the unmistakable mark of Tzeentch's craftsmanship cast arcane spells to put parts of him in stasis while others were treated with intensive medical rituals. His armor had to be carefully peeled from his body plate by plate, the superheated metal having fused with parts of his skin. Enriched blood substitutes were pumped through his body at rapid rates, and it seemed that every few minutes a new wound opened and began bleeding. After weeks of nonstop surgery, the primarch was deemed stable enough to rest for a while without constant care. Admu, who had watched the agonizing procedures from afar, sat by his side as soon as she was permitted to enter.
"Could you not have gone easier on him, uncle? At the very least you could have granted him a moment to rest between battles for pity's sake! I could barely stand to watch…" Admu said with teary eyes while she held Leman's bandaged hand.
"If I had been any more lenient, it would not have been a true test of his worthiness. There is much at stake here, and nothing can be left to chance. It was you who requested to watch the trials in their totality, against my protests." Khorne said, with a stern yet understanding voice. He placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, his unmasked face still bearing a faint scar from the battle. Through Khorne's naturally stony expression, Admu could see his concern seeping through.
"...I like you better without your helmet, uncle." Admu said with a smile. Khorne chuckled warmly. "I just hope he gets better soon."
"It's a miracle he's alive at all." said a Slaaneshi healer who entered the room with a syringe. "Enhanced physiology or not, he should've died before that fight even ended. 72% of his skin and the inside of all 3 of his lungs suffered third degree burns, 198 of his bones were fractured, a third of his internal organs were heavily damaged, one of his hearts was partially ruptured, and the other completely exploded. Frankly it would be easier to list what parts of him weren't injured. Seeing as he isn't a supernatural construct, I honestly cannot say how he remained standing for so long when for all intents and purposes he should've been dead several times over."
"He is worthy beyond a doubt, at least by my measure. When he has finished recovering, all that is left for him is to be judged by Tzeentch." Khorne said. Admu caressed his scarred cheek.
I wonder what you are dreaming of, Mister Russ. she thought.
A young blood claw pulled his chainaxe out of a fallen demon's skull and breathed in the cold air of Fenris, no longer tainted by the stench of the opened warp-tears. He looked out across an icy battlefield strewn with bodies of thousand sons and space wolves alike. He saw the great dreadnought Bjorn standing atop a mountain of daemon corpses and slain traitor marines, his lightning claw dripping with the blood of his fallen enemies.
"Revered One, venerable and ancient Bjorn the Fell-Handed, the battle has been won. We have repulsed the traitors' attack and Fenris stands strong!" he said.
The dreadnought simply stared into the empty air, silent as a stone.
"...Revered One? Is something the matter? Have you been damaged?" he said.
The dreadnought remained silent for a while longer, before saying in a soft and wavering voice:
"...Leman?"