Vulkan watched the reports stream in from across the battlefield, his dark eyes narrowing as he analyzed the situation. The feed from Sukuna's campaign was particularly… lively. He had seen devastation before, in all its myriad forms, but there was something uniquely unsettling about the way Sukuna and his Devourers fought. It was efficient, brutal, and far too gleeful for Vulkan's taste. He couldn't shake the feeling that Sukuna viewed this entire campaign as nothing more than an elaborate game.
Vulkan's hands clenched into fists as he leaned over the command console, his immense form casting a long shadow across the deck. The sounds of the ongoing naval battle outside the ship barely registered in his mind; his thoughts were too focused on the ground below, where his brother's forces rampaged unchecked. Sukuna had unleashed a slaughter on the desert planet, tearing through the Agurasi with the same casual ease one might expect from a predator among prey. And why wouldn't he? Sukuna was the King of Curses, a being of immense power and malevolence. But that power… Vulkan wasn't certain if it was a boon or a curse to their cause.
The roar of Sukuna's Malevolent Shrine echoed in Vulkan's thoughts, a distant yet palpable force that resonated even within the steel walls of his flagship. It was a manifestation of pure destruction, an obliteration of everything in its path, and yet… there was an artistry to it.
Vulkan could see the precise calculations, the careful balance between carnage and control, as if Sukuna wielded his power like a sculptor molding clay. But that control was only as good as Sukuna's mood. And that worried Vulkan. The Agurasi were not a simple enemy. They were cunning, relentless, and adaptive. Their plasma weapons had already claimed too many of his sons, their deadly efficiency carving through even the toughest of ceramite. Yet Sukuna had charged in headlong, as if daring the xenos to break his momentum.
Not that Horus hadn't warned him specifically of this. His brother even claimed that Ryomen Sukuna had jumped off his own ship to engage the Ork Vessels on his own, using his own power, cutting down the Greenskins within the hulls of their ships. That would've been a sight to see.
Vulkan chuckled for a moment before he exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the air before him. He was no stranger to war, no stranger to the loss that came with it. He had buried countless brothers and sons across a thousand battlefields. But Sukuna's approach to battle was… reckless. No, not reckless. Sukuna's application of force was measured. It was his legion that was problematic. Vulkan respected strength, admired power when it was wielded with purpose and restraint.
But the Devourers… their power was wild, unrestrained, as if they reveled in the destruction for its own sake; they enjoyed it, even, gleefully slaughtering the aliens. Once again, that, in itself, wasn't anything new. In fact, compared to the World Eaters, it was an improvement. At the very least, the Devourers were not mindless beasts. No, they were calculating killers, more akin to machines than any raging animal.
Vulkan couldn't help but wonder if, one day, that power might turn on them all. A great tide was coming. He felt it looming closer and closer. Vulkan didn't know just what it was, but portents were rarely ever positive.
And yet… Vulkan couldn't deny the effectiveness of their methods. The Agurasi were being decimated, their forces crushed under the weight of the Devourers' assault. The planet would be theirs soon enough, and the momentum of the war would shift in their favor. Quick and decisive. They were the ultimate shock troops. He did not enjoy making comparisons, but they were even more efficient than the Blood Angels, under Sanguinius. Never before had Vulkan seen such power, such overwhelming strength. Almost immediately, the Agurasi defense crumbled.
Briefly, the Lord and Father of the Salamanders wondered if he and his sons could gain some of that power. After all, Horus awakened some form of... what was it called?- Jujutsu Sorcery. Yes, Horus awakened his own form of Jujutsu Sorcery simply by being in Sukuna's proximity. And so Vulkan had to wonder if the same thing was possible with him.
The screen flickered as more data came through. Reports of light casualties among the Devourers, the Agurasi fighting with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Vulkan's lips pressed into a thin line. He knew the value of every life, every warrior who laid down their life for the Imperium. And while Sukuna might shrug off the loss of twenty-two Devourers, Vulkan did not. Each one was a loss, a wound to the strength of their forces. And each one was a reminder that even the strongest could fall. And, most importantly, the Devourers were so few in number that the loss of one was a big blow to their over all fighting ability.
So, in conclusion, the Devourers were a deadly and powerful Legion, perhaps even more so than most, but they were severely lacking in numbers, which meant that – for all their power – they weren't suited for conquest. Instead, they were suited for swift and overwhelmingly destructive assaults, leaving behind a tattered or mostly ravaged foe for the Imperial Army to deal with easily.
"My lord," one of the bridge officers called out, pulling Vulkan from his thoughts. "Our scouts report that the Agurasi are regrouping in the eastern quadrant. They're preparing for a counterattack."
Vulkan nodded, his mind already turning to the next move. "Prepare the Fire Drakes. I want a full-scale assault on the Agurasi position before they can reorganize. We're boarding their ships. And send a message to Sukuna. Tell him to hold his ground and await reinforcements. Or not. Actually, scratch that; just tell him to do whatever he wants to do, as long as it doesn't get in the way of what we're doing."
The officer hesitated. "My lord… should we not coordinate with the Devourers? Their forces are already deep within the enemy lines."
"No." Vulkan's voice was firm, decisive. But then, a moment later, he chuckled and shook his head. "Sukuna will do as he pleases, regardless of our orders. We must focus on our own strategy. We will not be drawn into his chaos. Think of him and his legion as a natural disaster that just so happens to be ravaging the enemy for us. It'll be much easier that way."
As the orders were relayed and the Fire Drakes, his elite heavy infantry, mobilized, Vulkan turned his gaze back to the planet below. His thoughts drifted to Sukuna once more. The King of Curses was a force of nature, unstoppable in his fury. In an odd way, it was pure and beautiful. Sukuna did not pretend to be honorable or artistic in his approach to war. He simply enjoyed it for what it was. And that honesty, Vulkan found, was oddly endearing. Of course, Malcador was right not to direct Sukuna against any human foe, where the Lord of the Devourers would grant no quarter or mercy. Yes, his brother was better suited to fighting aliens and monsters.
The Fire Drakes launched their assault, teleporting aboard the enemy vessels, and Vulkan watched the battle unfold, his mind ever calculating, ever vigilant. The Agurasi relied extensively on their control nodes, both on the ground and in the void. Their fleets were almost always led by control ships, each one bearing a control node that was able to control and direct at least one hundred other ships. A single, super control node lay at the heart of every fleet, their one connection to the greater Hivemind. Without it, their fleets very easily lost cohesion.
The problem was that it was practically impossible to destroy the super control node through a direct assault. Naval battles against the Agurasi, who possessed near-perfect and instant coordination, was almost always futile. Plus, their plasma guns were annoyingly efficient at blasting holes through the hulls of their ships. Thus, the most efficient strategy was to make use of strike teams to disable their super control nodes, disabling entire fleets and rendering them practically immobile.
Thus far, the Hiveminded Aliens have not been able to develop a counter strategy, but Vulkan knew it was only a matter of time before they did. Their adaptability was, honestly, one of, if not the greatest of, their strengths.
Otherwise, Vulkan would need the fleets of at least two other legions to overpower them.
And Sukuna's fleet, while unquestionably mighty, was paltry. Few Legionnaires meant fewer ships. And the entirety of the Devourers legion could fit inside just one ship, which meant his brother had nothing to contribute to naval battles. Fair enough. Their shock attack proved to be such a devastating distraction that it sent the Agurasi Hivemind reeling.
And it was precisely because of that distraction that the Fire Drakes were very easily able to disable the super control node of their most immediately-threatening fleet, one that was comprised of nearly a thousand ships. And, right on time, the same bridge officer, from earlier, called out once more. "Lord Vulkan, the Devourers have successfully enacted their... assault. The planet's taken. I advice that we establish infrastructure immediately and advance our foothold; shall I contact the Mechanicum?"
Vulkan grinned. Truly, the best way to deal with his brother was to leave him alone and allow him to do what he did best. And, unlike that brute, Angron and the World Eaters, Vulkan didn't have to worry about Sukuna and the Devourers turning on allies and friends. "Do it."
Captain Argus of the Black Sun Squad, an elite squad of the Devourers that specialized in the handling, protection, and – at times – destruction of precious cargo; it wasn't nearly as glamorous a job as being a Reaper, but the hours were great, they enjoyed longer vacations, and they didn't have to risk their lives every single time. But, it was Primarch Sukuna himself who said that it was important for those who weren't combat-inclined to still retain some kind of grand purpose. And so, here he was, leading the Black Suns to protect a very interesting artifact that dates back to before the Great Betrayal, back when most of the Primarchs were still alive and their father still fought with them. Actually, if it was from before then, the Primarchs probably weren't even conceived yet and the Imperium likely hadn't existed either. It was a casket. Argus had no idea what it contained, but the Tech Priests who found it were certain that it dated really further back.
Didn't matter. The most interesting part, however, was that it was very clearly – at least, to all the Devourers present – that the object within was a Cursed Tool of some sort. A very powerful one, too. He would've loved to ask questions about it, but the Mechanicus paid them quite handsomely to keep their mouths shut. And, if nothing else, the Devourers respected the principle of a Business Exchange. Their Primarch taught them that, after all, famously stating, "Do whatever you want, but never break your promises or oaths."
And so, here they were.
One of the Tech-Priests, who was accompanied by an Inquisitor for reasons Argus didn't know about or care to know, marched forward. The whole trip was quiet, almost solemn. He liked it this way, actually. Chatty clients were annoying, unless they were from Shibuya, in which case it was nice to share some gossip about the latest happenings of their home world.
"Do you have any idea what's in the casket, Lord Astartes?" One of the Junior Inquisitors suddenly asked. Argus resisted the urge to sigh as he shook his head. Clearly, the Junior Inquisitor already knew the answer to his own question, but – for some odd reason – wanted to share it through such... infantile means. That said, Argus would not deny that he was curious about the Cursed Tool held within. After all, it was their father who brought Jujutsu Sorcery back into the Galaxy, after the last Jujutsu Sorcerer died around the 15th millennium, which meant this artifact had to be from that time or even further back.
Those were... well... those were almost unheard of. There were rumors that the Emperor kept several such artifacts in the vaults beneath the Imperial Palace, alongside Kamutoke, which had originally been gifted by their father to Horus Lupercal, the Lord of the Revolution, the Great Traitor – at least, as he was known to the Imperium. The Devourers, however, knew him simply as the Rebel, because that's what their father called him.
"No idea." The speaker on his helmet made his voice far deeper and heavier than it should've been. "Do you know what it is?"
The Junior Inquisitor's eyes glimmered and his grin widened, before he spoke. "Held within is the mythic Inverted Spear of Heaven!"
"Oh? Truly?" Argus turned to his fellow Black Sun Squadmates.
How unfortunate.
AN: Chapter 35 is out on (Pat)reon!