Chapter Two: Spectral Blitz
As the Great Rift continued to spew darkness across the galaxy, the embattled Drakenhold System was on the verge of total collapse. Daemonic hordes of the Warp Lords had overrun multiple planets, and the forces of Chaos established twisted bastions on once-loyal Imperial worlds. A desperate Astra Militarum fleet struggled to hold the line, but morale wavered as each world succumbed to chaos and despair.
Then came the cold fire of the Legion of the Damned.
They appeared without warning, striking across multiple worlds in the Drakenhold System as if guided by an unseen hand. Their spectral warship, the Raptorus Rex, cut through the Warp like a dagger, its presence manifesting in orbit over the besieged planets. From it, the Legion deployed with chilling precision. Ferrus Manus and Sanguinius coordinated a vast, multi-planet offensive as easily as they had once commanded in life. Their aim was simple: purge the taint of Chaos with ruthless efficiency.
On Valkus Prime, a Chaos fortress writhed with life, a towering edifice of black stone and twisted metal, adorned with icons to the Dark Gods. Inside, Daemon Princes reveled in blood rites, confident in their dominion over the world. Their rituals were cut short as the walls flickered, and the eerie flames of the Damned lit the halls. Ferrus Manus himself walked through the fortress's gates, his iron hands shifting into spectral blades that slashed through the air with deadly precision. He moved like an executioner, slicing through daemons and heretics alike with a dispassionate fury. The fortress guards—Cultists and corrupted Astartes of the Forsaken Sons warband—fell before him, their weapons shattering upon his ethereal armor as he decimated their lines with calculated, cold strikes.
Outside, squads of Legionaries moved with eerie silence, spectral bolt rounds bursting through Chaos defenses with unholy fire. A Damned Predator Tank, wreathed in spectral flames, rolled over barricades, its autocannon shredding a horde of blood-soaked Cultists before incinerating the remains with an explosive round. The battle was a symphony of terror as the Legion's specters carved through flesh and iron with ruthless precision, their movements a stark contrast to the reckless abandon of the Chaos forces.
Meanwhile, on Dravox Tertius, Sanguinius and his squadron of ghostly Blood Angels appeared in the heart of the daemonic summoning pits. The taint of the Warp was thick here, and yet Sanguinius seemed untouched as he moved through it like a blade of radiant sorrow. His wings spread wide, casting a burning light across the hellish landscape, and in his hand, the Blade of Radiance sang with each strike, banishing daemons back to the Warp in searing explosions of light.
In one devastating swoop, Sanguinius tore through a group of Possessed Marines, their bodies incinerated as they attempted to bring their claws to bear on the fallen Primarch. A twisted Daemon Lord, Zar'vax the Withered, lurked in the shadows, ready to strike. But as he lunged, Sanguinius turned with a sweep of his sword, cleaving through Zar'vax's chest with unearthly speed. The Daemon Lord let out a gurgling shriek, his form dissolving as Sanguinius's power scorched the soul within him.
Everywhere the Legion appeared, Chaos retreated, their fortifications falling in mere hours. On Valis Minor, a Chaos Sorcerer, drenched in warp-spawned ichor, attempted to open a portal to summon reinforcements. But before he could finish the incantation, a Damned Terminator appeared behind him, his spectral power fists crackling with energy. With a brutal swing, the Terminator crushed the Sorcerer's head, ending the summoning with cold efficiency.
Ferrus Manus observed the battlefield from a crumbling spire, his iron gaze sweeping across the carnage. He showed no pride, no satisfaction, only a chilling sense of duty fulfilled. His spectral voice echoed across the battlefield, issuing commands to his legionnaires with flawless precision. They moved like shadows, as if each action had already been rehearsed, each movement honed by death itself. A Damned Contemptor Dreadnought, its form ablaze with otherworldly fire, marched through the ruins, tearing apart corrupted tanks as if they were made of paper.
The Warp Lords fought desperately to counterattack, but their daemons and heretics were helpless against the ghostly figures who seemed to know their every move. The Legion of the Damned did not pause, did not falter. In each engagement, they struck with lethal intent, leaving no enemy breathing and no fortification standing. Their approach was methodical, each assault coordinated across multiple worlds in the system, weakening Chaos forces and severing their lines of retreat.
A Plague Champion, bloated and riddled with decay, rallied a group of Nurgle-worshiping Astartes. They let out a cheer as they held a trench, defying the spectral warriors advancing on them. Yet, as Ferrus approached, his iron-clad form wreathed in blue flames, the Champion's confidence melted away. With a single step, Ferrus was upon him, his iron hands crushing the Champion's armor like rotting parchment. Ferrus cast the corpse aside without a word, leaving the remaining Plague Marines to be obliterated by his Legionaries' relentless fire.
On Sartos Secundus, Sanguinius encountered a splinter of his former Legion, the Flesh Tearers. Their Chapter Master, Gabriel Seth, watched in awe and trepidation as the ghostly Primarch landed amidst the battle. Sanguinius's face was unreadable, his eyes a haunting echo of the sacrifice he'd once made. Without a word, he turned from Seth, giving a slight nod—a gesture that spoke volumes yet needed no further acknowledgement. He had come not for reunions but for war.
When the system's defenses lay in ruin, the remnants of Chaos attempted a final stand on Drakenhold Alpha, a fortress world turned bastion of heresy. Ferrus Manus and Sanguinius led the final assault personally, their combined might tearing through the Chaos forces with unstoppable fury. Sanguinius unleashed his Lamented Glory, summoning a storm of spectral fire that consumed the daemonic hordes in its wake, their cries of agony swallowed by the roaring blaze. Ferrus tore through corrupted dreadnoughts, his iron hands crushing their armored shells with merciless strength.
As the last of the Chaos forces were driven into the Warp, Ferrus and Sanguinius surveyed the ruins of the Drakenhold System, their duty complete. Without a word, they turned and began to fade, leaving the battered Imperial defenders with a single, unspoken message: the Legion of the Damned would always be there to protect humanity when hope was lost, but they would grant neither comfort nor mercy.