Chapter 476: The Emperor's Sword Ablaze! The Second Great Crusade!
Once, the Sword of Slaanesh had controlled Daemon Prince to kill Ferrus. Now, in order to avoid the Forgebreaker, it had "killed" Daemon Prince again.
Daemon Prince stared in disbelief at the Sword of Slaanesh in his hand. So Fulgrim had been right all along—he had never truly controlled this blade.
From the very beginning, he had already fallen into slavery under this evil sword.
Squelch—!
Fulgrim suddenly wrenched the Forgebreaker free. Black blood spurted out, and the gruesome wound made Daemon Prince feel terror like never before. He wanted to roar in rage.
But the only answer was the gurgle of blood and a hoarse, beastly rasp. For now, he could no longer form words.
At once, Daemon Prince turned and fled. He knew that in his wounded state, he could not fight head-on. To be safe, he had to retreat into the Warp to heal.
But how could Fulgrim let slip this once-in-a-millennium opportunity? He pressed the attack, carving several more ghastly wounds across daemon prince's body.
Ordinarily, no mere blade could inflict real harm upon Daemon Prince. After all, he had been strengthened by Slaanesh's blessing.
Yet in Fulgrim's grasp, every strike of the Forgebreaker pierced through, making daemon prince writhe and wail. He endured with difficulty, desperately trying to escape reality's realm.
The Forgebreaker, sharp as it was, still struggled to destroy a Warp-borne daemon outright. It lacked the instant killing power needed to end him in one blow.
If Daemon Prince could just hold out a little longer, Fulgrim would be powerless to finish him.
But just as daemon prince was about to slip away with his speed, he saw Fulgrim holding another sword—he didn't know when it had appeared.
It was a longsword blazing with fire, gleaming like gold. daemon prince had seen it before. It was the nightmare he could never forget—the Emperor's Sword!
"Chemos has no place for a wretch like you. Now, I will end your so-called 'perfection' with my own hands."
Fulgrim gripped the Emperor's Sword tightly. Chemos was his homeworld—also the Daemon Prince's. But after Horus's rebellion, Chemos had been annihilated by the Imperium.
The one who had caused that tragedy was none other than this Daemon Prince who had sworn himself to Slaanesh.
Seeing the Emperor's Sword in Fulgrim's hands, Daemon Prince realized the truth: his foe was not alone. There was another helping him here!
And he was not mistaken. Not far away, Horus himself stood watching. To make certain Daemon Prince would be slain, he had even brought the Emperor's Sword.
In the Warhammer 40,000 universe, the Emperor had used this very blade to cut down the nigh-unstoppable Horus. Daemon Prince had witnessed that battle with his own eyes.
So he knew all too well the terror locked within this sword.
If even the Chaos-crowned Horus, chosen of all four gods, had perished to the Emperor's Sword, what chance did he have?
Moments later, Horus stepped forward openly. The instant Daemon prince saw him, his mind collapsed.
Horus—hadn't he died ten thousand years ago on Terra? How could he possibly be alive again? Could it be that the Emperor had gained the power to recreate Primarchs? …Impossible!
"No… this must be an illusion! You can't possibly still be alive!" Daemon prince ground his teeth, but terror had already seized his body, making him tremble uncontrollably.
"You traitor to the Imperium. If not for Fulgrim's plea, I would have claimed the right to execute you myself today!"
Horus's gaze was cold as he fixed on him. The universe's tragedy had begun because of him—so it should be ended by him as well. To slaughter the remaining daemon Primarchs, that was his duty.
But his other brothers were eager to strike down their daemon selves, so Horus could only play executioner-in-chief, watching in the shadows as his brothers carried it out.
Horus's might in single combat needed no further proof. Otherwise, the Chaos Gods would never have chosen him as their Warmaster. With him as the safeguard, justice in a two-on-one could never fail.
"Two impostors! And you think you can kill me?!"
Daemon Prince still tried to bluster, cursing them aloud even as he secretly opened a passage back into the Warp. But how could such tricks escape two Primarchs' eyes?
"Hmph! Trying to run?"
Fulgrim advanced, left hand gripping the Forgebreaker, right hand wielding the Emperor's Sword. Though his form was smaller than daemon prince, each step fell heavy, like treading directly upon daemon prince's heart.
Crushed beneath the pressure, Daemon Prince was on the verge of despair. He wanted to counterattack, but the agony in his throat left him powerless.
Then Fulgrim leapt forward, the Forgebreaker crashing down. Daemon Prince blocked it with another weapon—but in that moment, Fulgrim's right hand thrust out with the Emperor's Sword.
The blade pierced straight through Daemon Prince's heart!
Pale fire surged along his blood, engulfing him in an inferno. His soul frayed, dissolved, and began to scatter.
"Gods…"
Daemon Prince clutched his Sword of Slaanesh, which seemed to shriek in agitation under the Emperor's flames.
In the Warp, Slaanesh bestowed its blessing, letting the agonized Daemon prince taste ecstasy and desire. His lips curved into a twisted smile, as though basking in a beautiful dream.
Even the flames upon him dimmed slightly.
But the next instant, an even greater blaze roared from the Emperor's Sword, consuming daemon pronce utterly. This time, not even Slaanesh could preserve him.
Before Fulgrim's eyes, Daemon Prince turned completely to ash. With the Forgebreaker, Fulgrim severed the charred head to offer as tribute to Ferrus's spirit in the afterlife.
"A pitiful creature."
Fulgrim tossed the Emperor's Sword back to Horus, giving his judgment as he stood over Daemon Prince remains.
Horus looked at daemon prince, then toward Terra. He knew that just now, when Slaanesh had descended with a miracle, the Emperor himself had blocked it.
"Come. Russ and the others have already found Daemon Magnus. That one is yours."
…
…
A vast crusade, sweeping across the cosmos, was now unfolding in full force!
The Emperor had dispatched nearly all the Primarchs into the Warhammer 40,000 universe where the God-Emperor resided, while the Webway beneath the Golden Throne was being painstakingly repaired by the Megacorp.
In this, the Necrons offered their advanced expertise. With their aid, the Emperor's path toward the Golden Throne's restoration was only a matter of time.
The Emperor's return, and the Primarchs' reuniting with the Imperium—for humanity in the Warhammer 40,000 universe, this was the lifting of darkness, the reclaiming of glory.
With the Primarch legions at their peak, combined with mankind's scattered Imperial forces, the Imperium of Man had reached a strength unseen in all history.
To sweep across the stars and restore the Empire, Horus, in the name of Warmaster of the Imperium, launched the Second Great Crusade across the galaxy.
Compared to the First Great Crusade, the Imperium now possessed a much larger territory, and the Primarchs' enemies were no longer just alien races, but also the hidden corrupt elements and Chaos forces entrenched across countless worlds and sectors.
In order to accelerate the unification of the galaxy, the Imperium and the Aeldari struck a strategic alliance: both sides pledged peaceful coexistence and to jointly purge Chaos forces.
At first, Horus was unwilling to cooperate with Yvraine's, for the enmity between the Imperium and xenos was already carved into the bone.
But this was the Emperor's personal order, and Horus dared not disobey.
The Aeldari's god of death, Ynnead, was a potential divinity unit the Universal Megacorp sought to harness and unite with, which meant the Aeldari had some measure of value.
Of course, the only xenos the Imperium would cooperate with were the Aeldari.
All other alien races had to be struck down without mercy—
especially the Tau Empire, positioned along the eastern fringe of the galaxy.
The Tau Empire was a civilization that had once experienced a technological explosion, leaping in an extremely short span from the black powder era to the space age, building its core social structure upon the principle of the "Greater Good."
This so-called "Greater Good" in essence meant the collective interest above the individual. On the surface, it promoted inclusivity and multi-racial tolerance, but in truth, it relegated all other alien races to second-class citizens.
It was, in short, an oligarchy dressed in the clothing of democracy.
And this alone set the Tau Empire and the Universal Megacorp at odds, for their forms of government were nearly identical—and with identical systems, one must inevitably demand the other bow its head in submission.
This was something the Tau Empire would never accept, and so they would first have to be broken.
The task of striking the Tau Empire fell to an Imperial expeditionary force comprised of five Primarchs: Sanguinius, Russ, Jaghatai Khan, Lion, and Angron.
Their mission in this war was to cripple the Tau Empire completely—either accept the rule of the Universal Megacorp, or be blasted into dust beneath the Imperium's cannons!
As for the other Primarchs, they followed Horus, advancing in all directions, sweeping aside Chaos forces and slaying the champions of the Ruinous Powers.
The goal: within twenty years, to fully restore the Imperium's peak territorial dominion.
A ten-thousand-year decline had cost the Imperium countless resource-rich sectors, along with the rise of innumerable xenos powers.
To swiftly reclaim these holdings, they would need to cut through them like a storm scattering fallen leaves—slaughtering these damned xenos without restraint.
But it wasn't long before Horus encountered the first great obstacle of this Crusade.
That was none other than the Chaos Warmaster Abaddon, leading a mighty Black Legion host, barring Horus's path!
"Abaddon…"
Horus glanced at the Chaos giant looming not far ahead, then at his own adjutant Abaddon at his side. He truly could not fathom how this creature had become the Chosen of all Four Gods.
Because the Daemon Abaddon bore the blessing of all four Chaos Gods, each had branded him with their own sigil. His form resembled nothing so much as a mass of rotting, muscular sludge—corrupted, bloated flesh melded grotesquely with raw sinew, making him appear abhorrently twisted, impossible to look upon without revulsion.
"Horus, I truly miss the days when we marched together upon Terra, when we swore to slay the Corpse-Emperor. Back then, it was you who told us of the foul conspiracy of that false Emperor."
"And now, how is it you've turned your coat, serving as lapdog to that dying husk?"
"Don't you see the contradiction in yourself!"
Daemon Abaddon burst into hideous laughter, the rotten meat of his face quivering with each laugh. Clearly, he meant to sow discord, for the root of all this lay with Horus.
Whether resurrected or reborn in another universe, nothing could change what Horus had once done.
At this moment, Daemon Abaddon, with his swollen and towering frame, looked down upon the small figure of Horus.
On this alien world, the two armies were already drawn up in battle formation, waiting only for their Warmaster's command.
In truth, before arriving here, Daemon Abaddon had been uneasy.
For Horus's might was burned deep into memory; neither the Black Legion nor Abaddon himself could ever forget how powerful Horus had once been.
A Primarch who could fight the Emperor to nearly a standstill, almost evenly matched—such a thing was unheard of!
Even after Horus's death, the warriors of the Black Legion remembered clearly who their true Warmaster was. Abaddon had only ever been a substitute.
More often than not, other Chaos warbands did not obey his orders at all.
Daemon Abaddon had never, as Horus once had, truly ruled the Chaos Legions.
Suspicion, jealousy, and fury churned in his heart. So the moment he saw Horus, he had already resolved himself to two outcomes:
Either he would personally slay Horus and claim the title of Chaos Warmaster in truth—or he would die by Horus's hand, becoming his stepping stone.
The plan might have been reckless, but to Daemon Abaddon it was not impossible.
After all, Horus's might back then had only come from being the Chosen of all Four Gods. And now he was the one so chosen, the true anointed of the Four Powers.
This Horus standing before him was but a pretender—how could he possibly compare?
Suddenly, a surge of foul power burst from Daemon Abaddon's rotting eyes. He gripped tightly his daemon blade, Drach'nyen, thirsting to slay Horus and seal his soul within it.
This daemon blade had been forged from an ancient daemon named Drach'nyen itself, carrying a mighty curse able to rend the veil between realspace and the Warp.
As the Chosen of the Four Gods, Daemon Abaddon's blade was also the very symbol of his authority.
"The fool you speak of died on Terra long ago. I am not him, and he is not me. As the Warmaster of the Imperium, my duty is to root you out to the last—leave none alive!"
Horus was not roused to anger by Daemon Abaddon's words. As they stood face to face, he not only summoned his men but also activated a Universal Megacorp device, sealing off the surrounding Warp.
He knew that to meet this Daemon Abaddon head-on would yield no good outcome. At best, they would destroy each other one-for-one.
But for Horus, such an exchange was far too costly. The Crusade had only just begun—how could he allow his Luna Wolves to be gutted at the very outset by the Chaos Legions?
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