Chapter 1010 - 1009: The Birth of the Sapphire King

The moment Ferrus Manus's head fell, his death reverberated through the warp.

He had led his sons and allied forces into Horus Lupercal's trap.

His intense frustration whipped up towering grey waves across the Great Ocean, and his deep shame carved deep trenches in the Immaterium.

A searing, boiling anger scalded the seas and scorched the skies, while endless regret froze thousands of apex predators in place.

The surging emotions collided with a thunderous roar.

The disappointment of unfulfilled ambitions echoed through the Warp; mixed with the bitterness of defeat, it cast the physical form of a daemon.

A jewel-encrusted, shimmering body slowly took shape.

The Sapphire King was born.

On the surface of Isstvan V, every Iron Hand who witnessed their Primarch cut down by Fulgrim fell into madness, consumed by boundless hatred.

A distinct aromatic scent of pheromones wafted through the air as supple figures reached massive talons across to the other side of the mirror.

Ferrus's death sowed the seeds of madness, tearing open an unhealable abyss within the souls of the Iron Hands.

The moment the Sapphire King was born, he noticed the regret buried beneath the suppressed emotions of the Iron Hands; the guilt of failing to protect their father.

He greedily drew power from their bottomless despair and the hatred forged from grief.

"What an exquisite, delectable savor."

He greedily swept over every Iron Hand, including those not present on Isstvan V, with whom his connection was faint.

The Sapphire King flexed his claws, branding deeply etched scars onto the souls of the Iron Hands, extending from the emotions they could consciously feel to the subconscious dimensions they could not express.

He disguised his venomous curse as a path to help the Iron Hands escape the weakness they so despised: The flesh is weak; salvation lies in the machine.

Only through this could they avoid repeating the tragedy of their Primarch's death.

From the moment of their Primarch's death and the Sapphire King's birth, the ripples of his warp-born power in the Empyrean subtly tugged at the threads of fate.

From the Imperium to the enemies of the Iron Hands, all were affected, compelling the Iron Hands to peel away the coins of their humanity, one by one.

The Sapphire King raised his ritual blade and looked toward the future.

"We have plenty of time to play. This will go on century after century, millennium after millennium..." His tone was playfully mocking, like someone enjoying a grand theatrical performance.

"Until all your emotions are utterly extinguished. That will be the truly glorious moment..."

On Isstvan V, the Iron Hands discarded their ammunition-depleted ranged weapons, drew their combat knives, and launched desperate attacks at the surrounding traitors.

Cadmus Tyro, Equerry to the Iron Captain of the 65th Clan Company, Ulrach Branthan, and a member of the Honor Guard, raised his shield and charged at the forefront.

A dense barrage hammered against his shield, he leaned forward, throwing his weight behind it, sending an Emperor's Child flying.

A blade screamed through the air, thrusting at his gorget.

Cadmus twisted a third of the way, spinning his shield.

Bang!

The blade was caught mid-swing by the force field and sent flying from the traitor's grasp.

Cadmus drove his combat knife into the traitor's throat, as he wrenched it, the blade snapped with a crack.

Blood soaked his gauntlet. He hurled the corpse at the traitors, then leaped up, slamming his elbow into another traitor's head.

Bang!

Cadmus's elbow went numb and lost feeling, only when blood splattered into his vision did he confirm the enemy was dead.

He crashed onto the blood-soaked black sand, taking a second to recover.

'This fragile body, it limits my vengeance,' Cadmus thought.

He stepped forward again, charging alongside Branthan toward the traitors.

At the very moment the Iron Hands launched their merciless revenge, the Salamanders threw themselves into the fiery crucible of battle without hesitation.

Cassian Vaughn, the 18th Legion's Lord Commander before Vulkan's return, advanced with heavy steps, his combi-melta expended its last charge.

A searing torrent of flame slammed into a Predator tank; as black fire erupted skyward, the thermal field sputtered out.

The glow on his left arm abruptly died, Cassian did not stop.

He raised his arm, swinging his massive fist into an Alpha Legionary's chest.

A Nemesis-pattern bolter pressed against a Saturnine Terminator, a roaring barrage hammered against the armor.

Cassian's body shuddered under the impacts. He swung his right arm, using the combi-melta as a melee weapon, smashing it into the bolter.

Bang!

The firing chamber was crushed, the bolter detonated, blasting the Alpha away.

Cassian's dark green armor was scorched black. He staggered forward like a beast emerging from the ashes.

Lorgar Aurelian halted, his ornate hammer-head dripped with Raven Guard blood.

"What is it?" Kor Phaeron stepped to his side, his power claws crackling as they charred the clinging flesh black.

"Their lines have collapsed!"

"Not entirely," Lorgar shook his head.

"The Raven Guard's tactics, feigned retreat and rapid maneuver, are suited to this situation. Their withdrawal is swift and efficient."

"Corax is not fleeing either, he is drawing the heaviest fire to help his sons escape."

"He has killed many of ours."

Corvus Corax's eyes burned with hate, his wings swept wide.

Gurgle, gurle.

Two heads rolled across the black sand.

His jump pack belched a plume of flame, incinerating a charging Word Bearer.

Corax turned to meet a diving Word Bearer gunship, his lightning claws crackled.

His wings hummed and leaped, the gunship spiraled down wreathed in black fire.

Boom!

The explosion drew hundreds of Word Bearers, a rain of firepower descended upon Corax.

His black armor was indistinct and hard to track; the lethal beams aimed at the Primarch were all deflected, unable to find their mark.

Scorch marks were branded across Corax's armor, but none pierced it.

Erebus knocked a Raven Guard sergeant to the ground, then smashed his head with a backhand.

"Everything you do on this killing field is ordained by fate."

"You cannot face your brothers yet, it is destiny."

"We must all obey the will of the gods and play our designated roles."

"Killing these Raven Guard is what you ought to be doing right now," Kor Phaeron added.

"No!" Lorgar cried out, his gaze locked on Corax, whose glowing lightning claws were stained pitch-black as he slaughtered the Word Bearers.

"You spent decades building an army of faith, a Legion willing to lay their life for your grand cause," Erebus said.

"You have finally achieved your dream, do not stray from the path at this critical moment."

"We have found gods worthy of worship, but we are not their slaves," Lorgar began to run.

"My life belongs to me."

"He will kill you," Kor Phaeron strained to catch up, but Lorgar left him far behind.

"No, Lorgar!" His anger and panic were laced with fear and sorrow.

"My death belongs to me as well," Lorgar said softly.

He stared at the storm of death moving through the shadows. He and Corax had barely spoken; his knowledge of him was limited to a brief meeting in the Akum-Sothos Cluster.

He had not had the chance to use enlightening truth to turn Corax from darkness.

The power deep within Lorgar's soul seethed, stirred by fury, desperate to be unleashed.

His gift could not compare to Magnus, or to Nareth, he could not wield psychic power with discipline.

That power was unreliable, unlike faith, which was steady.

He had always suppressed his psychic gift with unshakable will.

Now, the pent-up force, accompanied by a shriek from the depths of his soul, broke its bonds.

A roaring rumble from the Sea of Souls swept through the canyon as Lorgar's scorching rage manifested into physical form.

An unbridled force radiated outward, enveloping not only his own body, but spreading to all of his sons across the entire battlefield.

....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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