Chapter 1008 - 1007: The Price of Perfection You Speak of, Does It Mean Ferrus?

A beam of light descended from the sky, piercing through the atmosphere of Istvaan V.

The blinding radiance spread relentlessly, engulfing the entire Urgall Highlands.

Thunderous explosions tore through the outer defenses of the highlands, roaring as they consumed everything.

Along the ridge's defensive works, shrill alarms blared.

Amid the shrieks, Lord Commander Akurduana of the Emperor's Children examined the crimson runes flashing across his tactical display.

The fortifications his Legion had built upon the xenos fortress were flawless, sheltering the Warmaster's army.

He scanned his surroundings, letting his gaze pass over his strikingly handsome father and settle on the Warmaster at the center of the observation post.

Horus Lupercal smiled as the sky darkened once more, thousands of drop pods screamed through the atmosphere, plummeting straight toward the planet's surface.

"My friends, mark this day well."

"The Emperor's loyalists are marching to their doom!"

Angron let out a roar, shattering his restraints like a wild beast.

Shards of the gateway flew everywhere as he charged into the unbroken wall of fire, vanishing into the smoke in an instant.

"Time to go meet our old friends," Fulgrim said, his silver hair flowing.

The grotesque warriors in Mark IV power armor, helmetless, chins elongated to horrifying angles, wearing stretched dead faces, followed their Primarch's steps.

Akurduana followed silently. His gaze swept to the foot of the ridge, where over a thousand Astartes were locked in ferocious combat, tides of firepower washing over one another.

Every second, dozens of runes vanished.

In the mad vortex of battle, a towering giant walked forward.

Ferrus Manus led the Clan Avernii veterans into the trench complex.

Ferrus's gleaming fists smashed Emperor's Children warriors to the ground, their ornate purple-and-gold armor shattering with a bang.

He raised his arm, his ornate pistol discharged a round of devastating ammunition, blowing apart an Emperor's Child who charged at him with a raised sword.

Fulgrim gazed at the sword hanging at Ferrus's waist. "You reforged my blade," he said, his voice drifting as he drew the skull-breaker forged for Ferrus from his own belt.

Akurduana followed Fulgrim down toward the foot of the ridge, his gaze sweeping the entire battlefield.

The flames unleashed by the Salamanders assaulting the northern fortress suppressed the Death Guard holding the defensive line; grotesque tongues of promethium-fire scoured every defensive position.

The Death Guard gave not a single step in the jagged trenches, retaliating with toxic pyrotechnic bursts.

A war of fire and endurance burned every trench to ash.

The Emperor-class Titan Dies Irae of the Legio Mortis strode through the missile storm, unleashing storms of destruction that ignited miniature suns among the Salamanders' lines.

Plasma cannons blasted craters hundreds of meters wide, wiping out over a hundred Salamanders.

Black sands were melted into gleaming black glass, sending up wisps of ominous smoke.

Through the drifting haze, the heavy landers of the mortal auxiliaries descended.

Armored companies of Shadowsword super-heavy tanks and Malcador heavy tanks rumbled toward the cliffs.

Barrages crashed down upon the black war machines, thunderous explosions echoed through the ravines.

Dust and sand were whipped up by the blasts; a Warhound Titan on escort duty was reduced to burning wreckage in the savage fire.

The Emperor-class Titan's ferocious energy detonated Shadowsword after Shadowsword, destroying the Titan-killers while its own hull was scorched to ember-like red.

It withdrew with heavy steps into the shadow of the fortress's main keep, waiting for its void shields to recharge.

Akurduana shifted his gaze from the burning Salamanders and Death Guard to the other flank.

In the labyrinth of stone mounds and ravines on the southern foothills, the Sons of Horus had constructed a shield-wall defense, razor-wire traps, and fortified strongpoints across a four-kilometer stretch.

The Raven Guard descended like birds of prey, their Mark VI Corvus-pattern jump packs trailing flames as they crashed into enemy lines.

First Captain Ezekyle Abaddon personally led the Justaerin Terminators into relentless, brutal slaughter.

Horus Aximand fought alongside him, his strikes precise and mechanical.

A piercing shriek dragged Akurduana's attention back to the front, the massive pipes and amplifiers fixed to armor amplified the vibration frequencies of killing music, tearing a bloody path through the Iron Hands' ranks with deafening sonic blasts.

First Captain Julius Kaesoron charged at the front line with savage glee.

His Terminator armor, once painted in vibrant colors before the battle, was now scorched black from overwhelming fire.

"Iron Hands, realize the bleakness of your lives!"

He tore the helmet from an Iron Hand, ripped out the head within, savoring the blood and scorched flesh.

"We were once oath-sworn brothers, but now you are dead." Laughing, he hurled the head into the air, cackling madly.

Third Captain Marius Vairosean's armor was adorned with jagged iron spikes, the flayed skins of Venetians decorated his blood-soaked plate.

His body had been altered by the Maraviglia: two deep fissures where his ears had been, his eyelids sewn shut to keep his eyes perpetually open, his exaggerated jaw locked in a permanent scream.

In his hands, taken from the Bequa Kynska band and fitted with barbed handles, was a terrible sonic weapon that unleashed dissonant frequencies, sending a squad of Terminators into convulsions.

Gabriel Santor's power claws parried the terrible power greatsword, recognizing Kaesoron's twisted face.

He adjusted his stance at maximum speed, blocking every crazed swing of the blade.

He twisted his wrist, his fingertips catching the descending blade.

Power fields crackled and clashed, a violent explosion erupted between them.

Santor grunted. The remaining flesh of his body, his fist and gauntlet, melted and fused with the metal.

He advanced with heavy steps to where Kaesoron lay on his back, chest charred and smoking.

He brought his foot down on Kaesoron's body, the weight of the Cataphractii Terminator armor grinding into him.

Flesh and blood splattered; Kaesoron let out a piercing shriek, not from pain, but from ecstatic pleasure.

Santor turned away in disgust, and Kaesoron took the chance to swing upward.

The broken blade sparked, and activated its disintegration field.

The power sword screamed as it stabbed into Santor, and Kaesoron dragged it upward.

Molten armor fragments flew, Kaesoron rose to his feet, the weapon sawing from the groin into the chestplate.

Santor's body crashed heavily onto the black sand, all around him reflected in his eyes.

Twisted betrayers, warped by hatred, fought their former brothers to the death.

Heroes and traitors bled rivers; Legions burned in the fires; the Imperium's dream collapsed in thunder.

Fulgrim chuckled softly, speaking to his beloved firstborn beside him.

"Akurduana, do you see?"

"Julius and Marius have become more perfect. Julius killed Gabriel."

"You too should open your consciousness. You will achieve even greater glory than he."

Akurduana was about to speak when Santor gathered his last strength and drove his blade deep into Kaesoron's body.

Both First Captains fell at the same time.

Akurduana gazed at the attackers' line, Vulkan's massive form strode through the hail of fire. He raised his arm, and his heavy flamer belched searing fury, incinerating an entire trench of Death Guard to ash.

Mortarion advanced with long strides, swinging his war-scythe against a Saturnine Terminator's thermal field.

With a resounding crack, the scythe halted, the thermal field shattered.

Shredding toxic fumes seeped into the finger-wide cracks of the Saturnine armor, dissolving the Salamander's flesh within.

The Saturnine Terminator crashed to its knees, dying with a suffocated groan.

Mortarion killed with grim efficiency, each sweep of his scythe reaped a Saturnine Terminator's life.

Angron howled as he crashed into the center of the battlefield, his twin chain-axes sowing a storm of blood and gore.

Across from Angron's savage butchery, Corax descended like a dark predator, his winged jump pack soaring, his powerful claws tearing World Eaters and Sons of Horus apart.

The slaughter unfolded across a canyon less than twenty kilometers wide, blood streamed down the slopes of the Urgall Highlands, painting viscous channels across the black sand.

"Is perfection fratricide and slaughter?" Akurduana asked.

"Killing is the necessary price for achieving perfection," Fulgrim said.

"The pain of slaying a brother brings the ultimate pleasure."

"Slaying a brother?" Akurduana felt a chill run through him.

"The price of achieving perfection you speak of you mean Ferrus?"

Fulgrim said nothing, he gazed at Ferrus.

Ferrus's silver fists swung, bone shattered and armor buckled where they struck.

Bolts ricocheted off the armor he had forged, unable to slow his advance in the least.

"Our reinforcements have arrived," Corvus Corax said.

A deafening roar of cheers erupted, Ferrus looked up to see the Iron Warriors' heavy landers plummeting down.

Their hulls crashed into the highlands, disgorging thousands of warriors behind the lines.

The Iron Warriors, barely out of their transports, began fortifying the landing zone with armored barricades and razorwire.

Word Bearers' Stormbirds screamed in; Alpha Legion Thunderhawks howled past; Night Lords' landers dove from above.

They deployed their lines on the flanks, linking up with their own forces and surrounding the Warmaster's army.

"Victory belongs to us. We should let our allies earn their honor in this battle."

"We have won a great victory, but not without cost."

"My Legion is drenched in blood. I cannot imagine the losses you have suffered."

"We are drenched in blood, but we are unbroken," Ferrus roared.

His jump pack had long since been expended over the Emperor's Children positions behind him; his pistol had been discarded.

The sword at his waist felt as heavy as lead, but he would not draw it until he faced his traitor brother.

"Enemy and friendly artillery have cut off our supply lines," Vulkan's voice came over the comm.

"We should temporarily withdraw, tend our wounds, resupply from our allies, and then rejoin this terrible battle."

"We must consolidate what we have gained and bring our allies into the fight."

Ferrus looked ahead, ripples of fear spread through the traitor lines.

They were falling back collectively, Mortarion led the Death Guard toward the ruins.

The mighty Emperor-class Titans, faced with the loyalists' numerical superiority, showed hesitation, even Angron withdrew with his blood-spattered World Eaters.

Suddenly, his silver eyes focused.

Fulgrim, clad in glittering purple armor, wielding an ebony warhammer inlaid with gold and silver.

"No!" Ferrus shouted.

"The traitors have already been broken, only one final blow is needed to destroy them completely!"

"We cannot let anyone escape justice."

"Ferrus," Corax warned loudly.

"We have already won, do not do anything foolish."

"The Iron Hands will not let others settle our score with the Emperor's Children!" Ferrus declared, cutting off communication with Vulkan and Corax.

"Let our brothers rest and lick their wounds!"

He raised his silver arms high. "Iron Hands, attack!"

....

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