Chapter Four: The Haunting of the Black Fleet
The Black Legion fleet drifted through the void, its vessels clad in twisted black armor and adorned with sigils of the Dark Gods. These ships were not just war machines—they were symbols of terror, sent to the Maelstrom to recruit the chaos-warped warbands and daemon thralls lurking in its depths. The call had gone out from Abaddon himself: the legions of Chaos were to swell their ranks for the 13th Black Crusade.
The command deck of Fury of the Darkened Sun, a massive Black Legion battleship, pulsed with dark energy as Sorcerer Varax Al'shura prepared to make contact with the cults and corrupted forces awaiting them. His ritual was nearing completion when he felt it—a bone-chilling cold that seemed to drain the warp energy from the air. Lights flickered, dying with a hiss, and the crew shuddered as the air filled with an unnatural silence.
Then, with an ominous groan, the Raptorus Rex materialized above the fleet. Its spectral hull, wreathed in cold flames and flickering shadows, loomed over the Black Legion warships like the specter of death itself. For a brief, tense moment, the silence deepened, as though reality itself recoiled from the presence of the Damned.
Throughout the Black Legion fleet, crew members whispered nervously, dread clawing at their hearts. Hardened Chaos Space Marines, cultists, and daemons alike felt the unnatural chill, the oppressive weight of an unseen menace bearing down on them.
On the bridge of the Fury of the Darkened Sun, Varax snarled, summoning his powers to shield the vessel from whatever force lurked in the shadows. "Bring me the souls of those who would dare defy the Black Legion!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the metal corridors.
But Ferrus Manus, the Iron Wraith, needed no invitation.
In a shimmer of cold fire, Ferrus appeared behind Varax, his iron hands wreathed in spectral energy. Before the Sorcerer could react, Ferrus's hand clamped down on his skull, ghostly flames flooding the Sorcerer's mind and reducing him to a smoldering husk. Ferrus released his grip, letting Varax's lifeless body crumple to the deck as he turned his burning gaze on the remaining crew.
Elsewhere on the ship, the Legion of the Damned emerged in silence, their forms flickering in and out of reality as they moved with relentless precision. Black-armored Astartes bearing spectral flames marched down the darkened corridors, their boltguns firing ghostly rounds that passed through walls and armor alike, seeking out the souls of their foes. The cultists and Chaos Marines they encountered were cut down without mercy, their cries swallowed by the oppressive silence that hung over the ship.
In a nearby ship, the Iron Reaper, a Daemon Prince named Urgalash raged at the sight of the Legion's advance. He unfurled his wings, preparing to tear through the spectral intruders with his claws. But before he could lunge, a radiant figure descended from above, his presence filling the deck with an unearthly light.
Sanguinius, the Radiant Phantom, landed before the Daemon Prince, his sorrowful gaze locking onto Urgalash with an intensity that froze even the daemonic creature in place. The Daemon Prince snarled, raising his blade to strike, but Sanguinius was faster. In a blinding flash, the Primarch's Blade of Radiance cut through the Daemon Prince, reducing him to ash in an instant. Sanguinius turned, his wings casting an ethereal glow through the ship's corridors as he continued his silent purge.
Throughout the fleet, the Legion of the Damned moved from ship to ship, phasing through walls, decks, and bulkheads as they hunted down every soul pledged to Chaos. In each vessel, spectral Dreadnoughts clashed with corrupted engines, their ghostly forms tearing apart heretical constructs with cold efficiency. A spectral Rhino Transport, wreathed in ghostly fire, barreled through squads of cultists, scattering them like chaff before disgorging Damned Astartes who advanced in perfect silence.
On the bridge of Eternal Torment, Ferrus Manus confronted a group of Black Legion champions, each armed with daemonic weaponry and unholy blessings. They charged him with a roar, their weapons swinging, but Ferrus's iron hands met them with unyielding precision. He dismantled them with brutal efficiency, his every movement a calculated execution. One by one, the champions fell, their bodies crumpling to the deck in twisted heaps as Ferrus moved on without a word.
In the lower decks of Talon's Grasp, a Chaos sorcerer attempted to summon a warp rift to escape, chanting feverishly. But his incantation was cut short as a Damned Legionnaire appeared, his bolt pistol firing a single, silent round that passed through the sorcerer's body, leaving his soul frozen in eternal torment. The sorcerer collapsed, the rift fading as the Legionnaire turned, disappearing into the shadows.
As the last remnants of the Black Legion fleet fell to ruin, the Legion of the Damned prepared for their final act. The Raptorus Rex loomed over the shattered fleet, spectral cannons charging with otherworldly energy. In one blinding volley, it unleashed a torrent of ghostly fire, obliterating the fleet in an explosion of ethereal light.
Ferrus and Sanguinius watched in silence as the remnants of the fleet dissolved into cold embers. They shared a brief, knowing glance—no words were needed. Their duty was done.
And as the spectral fires faded, the Raptorus Rex vanished into the void, leaving only silence and the memory of the Damned's wrath. The Maelstrom was now denied its reinforcements, and the Legion would be ready for their next call to arms.