Bzzzt—
The moment Eden finished speaking, a surge of warp energy erupted inside the duelling arena.
The Maugetar Stone array shook violently.
"What?!"
The instant Fulgrim heard it, panic flickered across him.
He jerked his head up—and on the sky-dome he saw a figure wreathed in warp energy, someone utterly unexpected.
"A very familiar trap. Didn't think I'd come looking for you, did you?"
That warp-wreathed figure spoke, his voice carrying seething fury toward the Fallen Phoenician.
"Pe… Perturabo?"
A deeply ominous premonition surged in Fulgrim's chest.
He didn't hesitate. He fully drove the flesh-and-pleasure artefact cloak at his back—countless grotesque tendrils lashed out toward the Lord of Iron.
But it was already too late.
The shockwave from hateful missiles detonating intercepted those tendrils, slowing the assault.
"Phoenician. Your trap no longer works on me!"
After blocking the strike, Perturabo used the support of a sorcerous array to punch straight into the interior of the Maugetar Stone formation.
His speed was terrifying, and he bypassed every obstruction.
The Lord of Iron had been wounded by this relic artefact before. He had studied its operating规律.
With his knowledge and intellect—combined with the Emperor's and Magnus's sorcerous craft—this trap array simply could not stop him.
Only he had the mental bandwidth to execute a complex arcane破解 in so little time.
At that moment, Perturabo's cognition-assist systems, paired with the Machine-God's computation, were processing billions upon billions of calculations in real time.
Then, along the route Magnus had provided, he drove at full speed toward the core, closing on the Maugetar Stone.
Perturabo felt an overwhelming exhilaration.
This was vengeance.
This was the cleansing of disgrace.
He would shatter Fulgrim's plan and seize the traitor's most precious relic artefact.
"Stop this!"
"Have you lost your mind? You're betraying Chaos— the gods will never forgive you!"
Fulgrim pursued desperately, but concealed Chaos mines disrupted his movement and slowed him.
He stared at the Lord of Iron, his voice climbing higher, steeped in hatred.
"Perturabo, my dear brother—stop this wrong choice.
"I do not wish to see your soul become the gods' toy, tormented in endless agony.
"Are you truly going to make an enemy of all of Chaos?!"
He did not understand why the Lord of Iron would help the Saviour—but it was an unmistakable existential threat.
That fallen brother's knowledge was frightening, and his movements were impossibly precise.
Every step pierced the array at its weakest point.
The Maugetar Stone trap was wavering on the brink. The power Fulgrim craved might slip away from him.
"You know nothing about me.
"I was never a slave to the gods—those Warp parasites."
Perturabo produced a mechanical extraction device carved with runes and drove it hard into the Maugetar Stone.
The rune-machine pierced the barrier. Its mechanical claws locked onto the relic construction and clamped down with a death grip.
He stared at Fulgrim and declared—like an oath.
"I am the Emperor's son. A primarch of mankind. I do not fear their so-called wrath.
"I, the Lord of Iron, will—through knowledge and technology—slay gods."
That was his pact with the Saviour.
Not merely to use technology to make mankind thrive, but to use it to eliminate the dangers that threatened mankind.
A goal far more glorious than building Chaos war engines.
"Pathetic Chaos thrall. Every scheme you made with the gods has failed—contemptibly."
Under Fulgrim's horrified gaze, Perturabo seized the extractor with both hands and tore outward with all his strength.
The entire trap array convulsed as the Maugetar Stone loosened.
Cracks spidered across it.
"No!"
"Stop!"
"We can cooperate! You'll get half the authority-power!"
Seeing those fractures, Fulgrim went mad. He lunged at the Lord of Iron, trying to stop the inevitable.
But just as he reached him, the Maugetar Stone was ripped free.
The array broke.
The instant the relic artefact was removed, the array's energy circuits collapsed. The warp energy and authority-power accumulated within instantly went out of control.
A violent detonation followed.
Chaos energy drowned the entire sky-dome.
Thud—
Fulgrim, along with the flesh cloak, smashed into the ground. The charred gems, now uncontrolled, fell like rain and pelted the arena floor.
He pushed himself up slowly, watching the destruction, and the hatred inside him finally erupted.
"What have you done?! You should all die. All of you!"
In boundless rage, the Fallen Phoenician was wrapped again by his flesh cloak. His form became even more grotesque and terrifying.
A crushing pressure rolled out.
"Why are you shouting so loud?" Eden's restraints vanished. He flexed his limbs.
He felt completely unblocked.
Almost… refreshed.
It was as if getting "siphoned" by the Maugetar Stone once in a while wasn't entirely bad.
A lot of mixed, messy energy had been drained away, leaving behind purer authority-power and lowering the pressure on the Hope Sun.
Like cupping therapy—pulling the dampness out of the body.
Now Eden finally understood why the Emperor liked "feeding" the Hope Sun so much.
Of course, short bursts were fine.
If the Maugetar Stone drained him for too long, he'd probably lose his authority essence.
That would be catastrophic.
Eden and Guilliman—who had also shaken off the restraint—walked toward Fulgrim.
Perturabo landed and followed.
Three primarchs advanced in a line, their presence oppressive.
Eden stared at Fulgrim's ugly daemonic body and frowned in pure disgust.
"You're offending my eyes. Apologise. Preferably on your knees, begging."
Fulgrim showed no fear. He kept a kingly posture.
"Hahahahaha. Do you think this means you've defeated me?
"Even without the trap array, you are still not my match!"
As he spoke, his gaze darted across the arena, as though searching for something.
Then he saw it.
His pupils constricted. A flicker of fear broke through his expression.
Hum—
Around the perimeter of the arena, a new formation unfolded. Pale-gold light-walls rose one after another, enclosing the entire duelling arena.
A human sorcerous array.
The arena was sealed.
Chaos beings had lost their retreat route—including Fulgrim himself.
A moment ago, he'd only been posturing to lower their guard while searching for an exit back to the Warp.
Now the exit was gone.
"I'm afraid you won't be leaving," Eden said, looking at Fulgrim and the remaining daemons.
Then he barked an order.
"All daemons, get back to your seats. Sit down."
He spoke as though the Chaos daemons were his own troops.
The daemons stared at the Saviour, remembering the nightmare of what he'd done in the mirage, and swallowed hard.
Then, one by one, they slunk back to what remained of the audience stands—some sitting on broken seats, some squatting on rubble.
They did not dare disobey.
In moments, only Fulgrim remained at the arena's centre.
His body trembled slightly.
He was genuinely afraid now.
He would have to face the Saviour and two other powerful loyalist primarchs.
And he had lost his escape.
He looked at Eden and forced out a bitter, miserable smile, collapsing into a defeated tone.
"Saviour… I admit you have seized control of the stage. You have won—"
"Die!"
As he spoke, poison hatred surged through Fulgrim's eyes, and he lunged at Eden with sudden决绝.
A targeted ambush.
He exploded into the fastest speed of his entire life.
"Stop him!"
Guilliman and Perturabo reacted at the same time, moving to intercept, swinging a thunderous hammer and a power blade into his path.
But as their weapons cut through, Fulgrim's body shattered.
An illusion?!
Guilliman and Perturabo whipped around.
Fulgrim was already in front of the Saviour.
Hum—
Eden's True-One armour sensed imminent danger. Dense layers of shields rose in an instant.
"You think these shields can stop me?!" Fulgrim spat mist and produced his last anti-sealing artefact.
He knew the Saviour loved stacking shield fields, so he had taken a relic artefact from the vaults of pleasure—one that interfered with shields.
Bzzzt—
The shields failed for a brief 0.1 milliseconds.
In that interval, the Fallen Phoenician thrust the fastest sword-stab of his life.
It carried all his hatred and jealousy.
It was perfect.
And on the thin blade was a narcotic poison, meticulously prepared by the Prince of Pleasure—potent enough to poison a primarch to death.
Pffft.
The rapier slid through an armour seam into the Saviour's neck—just as it had once pierced the Ultramarines primarch.
Boom—
The shields snapped back online. Fulgrim was blasted away and crashed to the ground.
"Huff… huff…"
Eden tore off his helmet and dropped it. He struggled to breathe. Dark red veins bulged on his neck as the toxin spread.
His head swam.
He wanted nothing more than to sleep.
That vile poison was gnawing at his consciousness, dragging him toward unconsciousness.
"Hypocrite. Regret it."
Fulgrim staggered up, grinning coldly as the daemons gasped in alarm.
"This is the Phoenix's final revenge.
"You will fall into eternal slumber!"
That was his last move.
He had won—just as he had so many times before.
Even if the Saviour wasn't killed outright, he would at least sleep for centuries, perhaps millennia.
When the hypocrite finally awakened, mankind would already have lost all hope of revival.
That would be the most vicious revenge imaginable—forcing the Saviour to watch mankind tumble into the abyss with his own eyes.
"Eden, brother!"
Guilliman and Perturabo saw it, their eyes splitting with fury.
Hahahahaha—
Fulgrim laughed wildly, waiting for the Saviour to collapse.
Then his laughter froze, like something had jammed in his throat.
Because he saw it clearly.
After a short bout of agony, the Saviour stabilised.
The poison—refined by the Prince of Pleasure—was being suppressed?!
"Hah… that was strong. I almost didn't make it."
Eden forced himself upright and exhaled deeply, relief in his voice.
"No. Impossible!"
Fulgrim stared at him, disbelief twisting into a shriek.
"The Prince of Pleasure's poison can kill primarchs and Daemon Princes alike. It cannot be suppressed.
"You should be down!"
"What do you mean I 'should' be down?" Eden snapped back, contempt dripping. "Who said getting hit by a pleasure-poison means you must die?
"Ever consider the Prince of Pleasure gave you expired stock?
"Have you ever been poisoned to death? No? Then stop standing there spouting assumptions like you know."
Eden wore a look that said, Prove it if you're so confident.
Of course, the poison had been real—and vicious.
But the moment his internal toxin-detection systems flagged lethal risk, they released a specialised antidote.
Ever since the Plague War—after witnessing how terrifying the Godplague truly was—Eden had poured massive resources into antidote research.
So the Saviour would not be toppled by Chaos toxins.
The special antidote inside his body was advertised as the highest-tier drug capable of keeping someone alive even under the Godplague.
It was "keep you alive," not "cure you."
A person would still fall into a prolonged slumber, to be fully cured later when technology advanced enough.
But that was for the Godplague, a cocktail of countless toxins.
Compared to that, the Prince of Pleasure's narcotic poison didn't even rate.
So it was quickly neutralised.
Eden produced several high-grade recovery injectors and jabbed them into his neck. His body recovered rapidly.
And under the hormonal surge in the medication, he became even sharper and more energised.
He put his helmet back on and, together with Guilliman and Perturabo, closed in on Fulgrim in a tightening arc.
Fulgrim had spent his last card.
His pride visibly collapsed in real time.
Facing three loyalist primarchs advancing step by step, he forced a stiff, unnatural smile.
"Saviour… my brothers… perhaps there is still room for reconciliation?"
"You tell me."
Eden cracked his knuckles, cold laughter in his voice.
At this point, reconciliation meant nothing.
And he did not believe a deviant like Fulgrim could truly repent.
Fulgrim trembled and backed away, trying desperately to buy time.
"Roboute! Haven't you always wanted a duel with me?
"I will give you an honourable duel!"
He wanted to drag it out. The longer he lasted, the greater the chance of a variable appearing.
"A duel?"
Guilliman almost laughed.
He remembered exactly how this traitor and his daemons had ganged up on him, captured him, and tortured him.
Guilliman had悟了.
Dueling and "honourable single combat" were meaningless.
The correct path was a merciless gang beating.
"Traitor," Guilliman growled, "I'm going to broadcast your humiliation to the entire galaxy and Warp."
He released several recording servitors, filming Fulgrim from multiple angles.
Then he lunged.
Eden and Perturabo followed, fists swinging without mercy.
In the dust-cloud at the arena's centre, Fulgrim's shrieks turned into a continuous, pitiful howl.
He was trapped in a corner, arms over his head, enduring a brutal, cathartic beating from three primarchs.
Every strike carried authority-essence force.
And holy grenades were being dropped on him like seasoning.
He was humiliated. Helpless.
Snot and tears streamed down his face.
Every Chaos daemon watching felt the chill of兔死狐悲.
Too cruel.
…
Not long after.
Duelling arena.
Fulgrim was bound head-to-toe in blackstone chains and thrown onto the ground like a dead fish.
He lay on his back, tears running sideways.
All dignity, all pride, gone.
He had curled inward into profound silence.
"Brother. This is the relic artefact you wanted."
Perturabo produced a black-and-yellow construct gleaming with strange light, the faint operation of rule-mechanics perceptible within.
The Maugetar Stone.
"Let you research it," Perturabo said. "I trust your knowledge and intellect. You will decipher its secrets."
Eden accepted it, delighted, and realised it looked like something between gemstone and machine—utterly unreadable to him.
Then he handed it right back to Perturabo.
Among his brothers, the Lord of Iron was the best choice to research it. Only he had the requisite intellect and capability to excavate its knowledge.
"Then leave it to me," Perturabo said with calm confidence. "I will uncover everything."
The Saviour's trust pleased him.
In this world, there was no technology and no secret that could truly stump him.
"Good. This is locked."
Eden nodded in satisfaction.
This trip had rescued Guilliman, captured Fulgrim, gained vast faith-tainted energy, and secured the Maugetar Stone relic artefact.
All of it greatly increased their strength.
The balance of victory was tilting toward the Imperium.
And the war in the Vostonius Pan-Sector would soon end.
He would destroy the sector-wide array, crush the gods' scheme completely, and save the star region.
He would also retrieve the Webway shield-boring machine.
"At this point… the advantage is clearly ours," Eden said, full of feeling.
In the next moment, Fulgrim seemed to receive some message, and he suddenly sneered.
"You think defeating a few Daemon Princes ends the war?
"Delusion.
"The gods' terror is beyond what you can imagine. They planned everything.
"Mankind cannot win this war. You will soon feel true desp—mmph!!!"
Eden casually stuffed a holy grenade into Fulgrim's mouth and finally shut him up.
But Fulgrim's words still left him with an ominous unease.
Then the highest-level emergency dispatch arrived.
Eden read it—and his eyes went wide.
A major Redemption Fleet had been annihilated.
The enemy… was only one.
(End of Chapter)
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