Chapter 115
The battles ahead would only grow tougher.
Losses?
Neither side cared anymore. No matter how many were killed, it was never enough.
Even Abaddon himself rose from his throne, excitement burning in his eyes as he strode toward the hangar.
"Warmaster, where are you going?"
"Do I even need to say? Prepare an airdrop for me!"
The Despoiler intended to personally take the field. His confidence was immense—but his adjutant looked nervously at the state of Cadia's battlefield, afraid his master might be cut down even before landing.
The war on Cadia had already turned into a clash of Greater Daemons.
The Living Saint, Celestine, blazed like a true heir of the Emperor. Every swing of her sword carried the Emperor's holy fire, and the radiant halo behind her head shone so brightly it lit the Cadian lines.
On the other side, the sorceress Isis swept her staff, her psychic power crashing like storms across the battlefield, hurling waves into the sea of daemons.
The Greater Daemons of the Four Chaos Gods pressed the attack with equal fury.
Khorne's champion rampaged at the front, tearing and crushing with every swing, blood soaking the ground.
Slaanesh's daemon danced through the ranks of Lizardmen and Cadians alike, smiling as he cut down victims with savage delight.
Nurgle's bloated monster shook its plague-ridden weapon, summoning swarms of disease or healing nearby daemon kin with foul vitality.
Tzeentch's greater servant fought the Lizardmen priests in a psychic duel, warp lightning clashing against their prayers. If not for this balance, the priests would have been annihilated.
The battlefield losses were staggering. Every moment saw lives snuffed out. If even a Tyranid splinter fleet had joined this war, it would have been wiped out within weeks. The daemons didn't care where their losses fell—only that blood was spilled.
'That line comes to mind: your daemons die by the second, but my Astra Militarum is endless.'
[And now?]
'Cadia can't last much longer.'
The Eldar Death Guard joined the humans, while the Black Templars and Imperial Fists consolidated their drop zones. But against the endless tide of daemons, their numbers dwindled by the hour.
Even Chaos warlords from the Horus Heresy emerged:
Khârn the Betrayer, Khorne's favored.
Lucius the Eternal.
Typhon, first captain of the Death Guard.
All once captains of loyal Legions—now butchers of Cadia's defenders.
Abaddon himself entered the fray. Towering almost like a Primarch, he swung the daemon sword Drach'nyen, his braid flowing behind him as he roared:
"Destroy the False Emperor's slaves!!!"
The battle now rivaled the scale of the Horus Heresy itself.
Even with Godzilla's help, the narrow alleys, tunnels, and bastions were steadily forced back by daemons and Chaos Marines.
Godzilla's own Lizardmen warriors suffered heavy losses. For a race never numerous to begin with, the casualties were painful.
Trazyn the Infinite also deployed his treasures into the fight.
A squad of Ultramarines from the 30K era materialized on the battlefield. At first disoriented, they quickly recognized their foes—the Word Bearers and World Eaters.
"It's those traitors!!!"
"For Macragge!!!"
The hatred between Ultramarines and those Legions ran deeper than words. They remembered the battles on Macragge, shoulder to shoulder with loyalist World Eaters and Word Bearers. Then, as now, it was a slaughterhouse.
An Imperial warrior clad in golden armor also appeared, taken from some past battle at Terra's Webway. Confused for a moment, he quickly assessed the battlefield—daemon versus Imperium was all he needed to know.
Power halberd in hand, he struck with blinding speed, cutting down daemons faster than even Astartes. Veteran Chaos Marines, battle-hardened over centuries, found themselves outmatched.
'Ah… a Custodian!!!'
Godzilla spotted him instantly.
'I want it.'
His tone was eager, like a hobbyist spotting a prized mini on the table. 'I also want the big golden guy.'
It was natural—any traveler would want a Custodian in their collection.
[If you want him, take him. The Emperor doesn't care.]
After all, the Emperor had seen countless Custodians fall. One more wouldn't matter.
'Fine then. Protect him for now.'
The lone Custodian fought like a living storm. Bloodletters couldn't get within reach, and Slaaneshi fiends fell before they could touch him. He even unleashed disciplined volleys from the guardian spear, cutting down daemons at range.
But he was only one. Against the tide, even he would eventually fall—according to history, Abaddon himself would cut him down within a few strikes, a testament to the Warmaster's power being near-Primarch level.
It was simple truth: no single Custodian could best a Primarch.
"Force?"
Isis also noticed the Imperial warrior gleaming in gold.
"The Custodes appear here? Interesting. Even my god has his eye on this one."
Who could resist a figure that radiant?
"Well… give him some help. Alone, he'll be overwhelmed."
With a wave, she directed her temple guards to rally around the Custodian, taking pressure off him and holding back the daemonic tide.
"Still, the enemy grows stronger and stronger. Hasn't that fool Cawl finished yet?"
As if in answer, Belisarius Cawl's work reached its conclusion.
The Armor of Fate was complete. Relief poured through the Magos's voice-box, though he had no lungs to sigh with.
"Finished."
The suit gleamed with blue and gold, adorned in the elegance of Old Terra's Roman era. Even in the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, it radiated hope.
This was one of Cawl's twin masterpieces. The other—the Primaris Space Marines. Together, they would be the keystone of the Imperium's survival.
"Now… it's time to return to Macragge."
The servitors secured the Armor of Fate within its container. The mission shifted—no longer simply holding Cadia. Now, it was to escort destiny itself.
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