"As you wish, boy."
"What is that... a Greater Daemon?"
"Silver hair... serpent body..."
"It looks like our father..."
When the crew projected the footage onto the main screen, everyone on the bridge was stunned.
Every member held their breath, their eyes glued to the image—
A giant creature with flowing silver hair, a serpentine tail, and an aura of malevolence was moving through the central district of New Argos.
The impact of this image was immense.
Even the battle-hardened Sons of Humanity, accustomed to life and death, couldn't help but feel unease and confusion.
Standing at the center of the bridge, Saul Tarvitz furrowed his brow.
His eyes were filled with a mix of shock and complex emotions, as he understood the implications of this sight better than anyone else.
He immediately recognized the figure in the footage. The flowing silver hair and the faintly visible features bore an uncanny resemblance to their Primarch, Fulgrim.
However, Tarvitz's heart was filled with doubt and caution.
Not long ago, ground squads had reported encountering "brothers" who had fallen to Chaos and betrayed the Empire. Now, a Primarch-like Greater Daemon had appeared...
This left him feeling disoriented.
Taking a deep breath, he quickly issued orders to encrypt and transmit the footage directly to their Primarch.
At the same time, he sent an urgent communication request, hoping to speak directly with Fulgrim to confirm whether this bizarre entity was related to their Primarch.
Every second of waiting for the communication link to establish felt like an eternity.
When the screen finally lit up, Tarvitz's tense nerves relaxed slightly.
The image that appeared was not the terrifying monster but their familiar "father," Fulgrim.
He was as handsome as ever, with flowing silver hair and a face as flawless as a sculpture, exuding an aura of reassuring authority and calm.
This meant that the creature in New Argos was not their Primarch.
"Father!" Tarvitz reported immediately as the communication connected:
"A Greater Daemon of Chaos has appeared in New Argos, and... and..."
"And its appearance bears a resemblance to me, correct?" Fulgrim's calm and magnetic voice interjected, his tone almost devoid of emotion.
Hearing Fulgrim's composed and resolute voice, Tarvitz's mind instantly settled.
The Primarch's authority and calm always brought him relief.
No matter how powerful the enemy, the Primarch was their unwavering pillar of strength.
At this moment, Fulgrim's tone remained deep, his gaze seemingly piercing through the communication screen to focus on the distant enemy:
"Do not be deceived by the appearance of a crude imitation, nor let it disturb your mind. It is merely a plaything of Chaos, with no connection to me."
"Yes, Father."
The Primarch's calmness further solidified Tarvitz's resolve, and he continued his report: "At the same time, we have engaged in direct combat with numerous Chaos Astartes. Their individual combat prowess is formidable, rivaling or even surpassing that of our Sons of Humanity."
Fulgrim's eyes narrowed slightly at this, and he responded: "The 1st Company, my personal guard, and a hundred Custodians will arrive above New Argos within twenty minutes.
Until then, the 2nd Company must contain the spread of Chaos. We cannot allow New Argos to become a paradise for daemons."
The Primarch's words echoed with a heavy, unyielding authority, carrying both an order and a responsibility for the future of the Empire.
Tarvitz immediately felt an unprecedented pressure. This was not just a command but a duty, a responsibility for the Empire's future.
"Understood, Father," Tarvitz replied firmly.
Before ending the communication, Fulgrim added: "Remember, Tarvitz, do not fear Chaos. They are but illusions in the void. True strength comes from our faith and unyielding loyalty."
With that, the communication screen dimmed, returning to darkness.
Tarvitz stood still for a moment, then decisively turned and strode out of the bridge.
As he passed the crew's console, he ordered in a deep voice: "Notify all combat personnel remaining in the fleet to assemble immediately and deploy to New Argos to support the ground forces!
Additionally, the entire Company Guard will accompany me to the city center to halt the advance of that Greater Daemon."
"Understood, sir!" the crew responded in unison, swiftly relaying the orders to every member of the fleet.
Tarvitz nodded and quickly left the bridge.
As he moved, he checked the functions of his Tartaros-pattern Terminator armor.
The metal exterior of the armor reflected a deep sheen under the light, its surface adorned with Imperial insignias and battle honors that showcased his identity and glory.
He then gently placed his helmet on, and the power armor system activated. The internal display lit up, showing real-time updates of the battlefield data.
Next, Tarvitz led over a hundred members of the Company Guard to the Emperor-class ship's "teleportation drop bay."
This was one of the most critical tactical deployment areas on the entire ship. Though structurally similar to the drop bays of the Sojourner-class, it was more compact and utilized more "simplified" teleportation technology.
Tarvitz and his men entered the drop bay and stepped onto their designated platforms.
As the drop bay control console issued its commands, a flow of bluish-green teleportation energy began to circulate throughout the area.
Tarvitz stood at the center of the platform, feeling the fluctuations of the teleportation energy. A low, engine-like hum filled his ears.
A burst of blue-white light erupted, transforming into a dazzling energy stream that enveloped everyone.
In an instant, the hundred figures vanished in the light, leaving only the fading traces of the teleportation field in the drop bay.
Meanwhile, about three kilometers north of New Argos's central district, near the towering beam of light:
"For the Emperor! For humanity!"
"Hahaha! Slaves of the False Emperor! Die!"
"Filthy scum!"
"Brothers, your eyes are blinded by the False Emperor! Wake up! Hahaha!"
The street was filled with deafening roars and taunts, each shout brimming with metallic intensity and a murderous resolve, showcasing the unique battle fervor of the Astartes.
From above, the street was already consumed by war.
Two groups of Astartes stood on either side of the street—one was the fallen Sons of the Emperor, corrupted by Chaos, and the other was the loyal warriors of the main universe's Empire, the Sons of Humanity.
Wielding chainswords, power swords, and "Thunder Hammers," the two sides engaged in close-quarters combat.
These once-"brothers" clashed with weapons that sparked brilliant flashes of light with every collision. The shockwaves from their strikes cracked the walls of nearby buildings, sending rubble and debris flying, creating an atmosphere of terrifying destruction.
The fallen Sons of the Emperor were enveloped in a sinister glow of crimson and purple, their armor adorned with twisted runes and demonic energy. Their movements were swift and vicious, each strike carrying absolute destructive force.
The Sons of Humanity, on the other hand, maintained a pure and refined combat style. Their helmets gleamed with a solemn metallic sheen under the light, seamlessly switching between offense and defense like a precisely calculated symphony of death.
The two sides' attacks were like a storm of wind and rain, blood and debris scattering across the street, painting the area in a crimson hue.
Moreover, the "followers" and auxiliary forces of both sides were also locked in fierce combat.
Explosions and flames devoured the street's peace, hardlight, laser rifles, and solid projectile weapons firing continuously. Occasionally, grenades and bombs were thrown, followed by deafening blasts and flying shrapnel.
Despite the intensity of the battle, neither side had gained the upper hand.
Every corner of the street became a focal point of contention, with both sides gritting their teeth, unwilling to yield.
The "frenzy" erupting here was like a microcosm of the apocalypse, pushing the clash between loyalty and betrayal to its extreme.
At this moment, a fallen Son of the Emperor wielding a sword and whip in each hand broke through the Sons of Humanity's front line with unbelievable speed and agility.
Its movements were ghostly, each step blending into the shadows, making it nearly impossible to track.
As the line faltered, this Son of the Emperor struck without hesitation, its blade tracing a brilliant arc.
Two Sons of Humanity who tried to block its path were decapitated before they could react, their blood spraying into the air.
In the distance, a Son of Humanity wielding a 1.0cal heavy bolter quickly adjusted his aim, trying to suppress this nightmare-like enemy.
However, before the bolter could unleash its destructive fire, the whip-like weapon lashed out like a living thing.
The whip's shadow cut through the air with a sharp whistle, instantly wrapping around the gunner's neck.
With a slight tug of its wrist, the fallen Son of the Emperor yanked the heavily armored Astartetoward itself.
Before the gunner could struggle, its sword came down again, cleanly decapitating him. Blood and mechanical fragments scattered as the head rolled to the ground.
Then, like an unstoppable storm, this fallen warrior unleashed a brutal slaughter within the Sons of Humanity's ranks.
Its swordplay was precise and ruthless, each swing claiming a life. Its whip was like the scythe of death, ensnaring and dragging any Sons of Humanity attempting to counterattack from a distance into the abyss of death.
In mere seconds, it had effortlessly slaughtered over a dozen Sons of Humanity.
The Sons of Humanity's line began to waver, their helmets hiding expressions of shock and rage.
They had never encountered such a ferocious opponent, one who could single-handedly disrupt their formation and slaughter over a dozen of their brothers in moments!
Even the honor guards beside a Primarch could not easily slaughter ten times their number in Astartes.
The tide of battle had turned dramatically in an instant.
"Hahaha~! Tremble, foolish brothers!"
"In the face of Lucius, you are all but playthings!!"
Seeing the fallen Son of the Emperor single-handedly turn the tide of the stalemate, all the fallen warriors erupted in mocking laughter and taunts.
Those who had once sworn allegiance to the "Emperor" now seemed to have forgotten their oaths, consumed by the darkness of corruption, transformed into ruthless and insane scum.
They showed no restraint in their insults toward humanity, the Empire, and their "brothers," as if reveling in their victory.
Moreover, their shouts revealed the name of this Son of the Emperor—Lucius.
As for Lucius, the appearance of his power armor was chilling.
The armor's surface was covered in layers of twisted, deformed "human skin," seemingly forcibly attached to the plating. As the battle raged, the skin twitched and writhed, as if in agonized struggle.
Even more horrifying, the "skin" was etched with countless faces, each one seemingly screaming in pain, as if their souls were trapped within the armor, unable to escape.
Their lifeless eyes flickered on the armor's surface, as if still conscious, filled with endless fear and despair.
Lucius's presence on the battlefield was like the incarnation of a demon, his grotesque and ugly features perfectly complementing the horrifying armor.
Every step he took seemed to trample on countless souls, cruel and decisive.
As the fallen warriors' laughter grew louder, the bloody atmosphere on the battlefield intensified, as if the entire world was yielding to Lucius's victory.
"Hmph!"
The Company Champion, who had also joined the battle, let out a cold snort. Seeing his brothers slaughtered and hearing the traitors' laughter, his fury erupted.
He no longer hesitated, gripping the heavy power sword with both hands. The blade shimmered with a sharp light, like a bolt of lightning ready to tear through everything.
Then, the Company Champion accelerated, his steps swift as the wind.
His figure was like a flash of lightning, cutting through the air.
Whoosh—!!!
The power sword, carrying terrifying force, aimed straight for Lucius's back.
However, faced with such a fierce attack, Lucius showed no panic.
His reaction was incredibly swift. His body leaned forward suddenly, his legs pushing off the ground, allowing him to glide like a phantom, narrowly evading the deadly strike.
The Company Champion's furious slash cut through the air, grazing Lucius's shoulder before striking the ground.
Boom—!!!
The sword, carrying unstoppable force, hit the ground with a deafening crash.
Dust flew into the air, and the ground was split open, forming a shallow crater over a meter deep. Rubble and debris scattered in all directions, as if the earth itself trembled under the force of the blow.
"Face me, traitor!"
Seeing his strike miss, the Company Champion quickly adjusted his stance, swinging the power sword at Lucius again.
"As you wish, boy."
Lucius dodged once more, creating distance between himself and the Company Champion. He licked the bloodstains on his left hand with his tongue, grinning as he said:
"Let me taste you, hahaha!!"
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