Webway, Blackstone Fortress
Sanguinius
189.M32
While Angel Pride bombarded the Drukhari fleet with missiles and energy attacks, wreaking terror and destruction, the Krorks, aboard small transporters, assaulted the entrances to the Blackstone Fortress, their powerful shields deflecting the few missiles and beams that flew their way.
This had been the plan from the beginning. The Drukhari had to focus all their weapons on attacking Sanguinius' flagship, which, however, ignored the barrage, retaliating with exceptional effectiveness and destructiveness.
One by one, the Drukhari spacecraft exploded and shattered. Without ships of their own size, they couldn't even engage on equal terms.
Krorks were creatures born for war. These several-meter-tall colossi of muscle and metal were already formidable opponents, and when you added their combat skills, weaponry, tactics, and superior intelligence compared to their younger cousins, Sanguinius had no doubt they were a match for his father's Custodes.
It was hard for him to imagine how powerful the united Necrons and the C'tan themselves must have been when, according to Varok himself, billions of Krokrs fought on battlefields across the galaxy at the height of the War in Heaven.
He had no doubt that if the current factions in the galaxy, even the united Chaos, had risen against any of the sides fighting in this war, they would have been crushed, even by the Chaos Gods themselves.
It was a terrifying prospect, one that made him unable to help but think back to the Shards of C'tan locked away in the Inner Sanctum of Ilmarin. However, that was a problem for the future. Now he had a fortress to conquer and a brother to find.
While his forces were pounding through it like a hot knife through butter, he himself was suspended in midair before the main gate leading to the fortress. The Drukhari hurriedly tried to fortify it and form a defence, but it was too late.
Focused on breaching the gargantuan structure, the Dark Eldar were caught off guard by the lightning-fast assault of his forces. Sanguinius himself also served as a distraction. He allowed his psychic aura to glow in the Webway like a supernova, making it clear, especially to the Archons, that someone immensely powerful was knocking at the door.
Soon, volleys of weapons of all types—laser beams, shuriken projectiles, and more—were fired at him, but all were deflected or scattered by the cocoon of golden energy that surrounded him. Even psychic attacks were ineffective.
He crushed the minds that attempted to attack him directly, making it clear they were dealing with a psyker of the highest calibre.
Although he knew the Blackstone Fortress was incredibly durable, he wasn't about to risk damaging it. For everything created can be destroyed in some way.
Therefore, targeting the minds of the Drukhari, who, after all, all possessed innate psyker abilities, he used one of the Old Ones' newly learnt techniques. He sent a psychic pulse that practically incinerated the minds of the weaker Drukhari on the spot and left the stronger ones with shattered minds.
Only the strongest or most resilient of the Dark Eldar were able to defend themselves against the attack, but such were few. They too soon fell, for faster than a blink of an eye, the Primarch was among them.
One of the Haemonculi tried to react and avoid the attack, but he grabbed its terrible head and crushed it effortlessly, simultaneously piercing another with his spear. The others tried to flee, but with a single thought, the Great Angel momentarily transformed himself into a gravity well, drawing all nearby enemies to himself.
He teleported the three succubi to the cells on the Angel's Pride with a touch, intending to give them a chance to join his squad of assassins under Aeshia's command. After all, the eventual capture of the absurdly large and as complex as a labyrinth Commoragh would require a so-called fifth column, his men behind enemy lines.
Having finished off the remaining opponents with a controlled chain of psychic lightning bolts, he approached the turquoise barrier, composed of immaterium energy and glowing purple glyphs or runes, blocking the several dozen-meter-long entrance to the interior.
Behind it, he sensed thousands of Drukhari, including hundreds of powerful psykers, led by two powerful presences, undoubtedly Archons.
They likely realised he wanted the Fortress intact, so they blocked the entrance itself with a barrier held by hundreds of psykers. Destroying it without damaging the structure of the ancient battle station would be difficult even for him. The last thing he wanted to do was underestimate the Archons. These beings were far older than he was and a hundred times more cunning.
Well, he clearly had to pull out his ace in the hole before they did. Nothing beats a good dose of intimidation.
Reaching out with his finger pointing straight at the barrier, he reached deep within himself and, for a brief moment, released the Infinity and Eternity, the Beginning and the End, slumbering there.
The Void Ray shot from his finger toward the barrier, consuming everything in its path. Everything in its path—energy, matter, time, and even space itself—ceased to exist. As it struck the barrier, it shimmered slightly, then vanished with an ear-splitting shriek.
Having achieved his goal, Sanguinius, with effort and gritting his teeth, pushed the Void into a place deep within his soul, where he held it in check. Without a physical body, it was impossible for him to control, and even using it momentarily, even on such a small scale, was risky.
The Void Dragon's power was truly absurd; it was no surprise to him that the Old Ones had lost the war against the C'tan and the Necrons.
The Primarch watched with curiosity as the Webway attempted to repair the narrow strip of absolute nothingness that had formed within it, accompanied by shocks and distortions in spacetime itself. The Blackstone Fortress itself, previously unshakeable, shook to its foundations.
Sangunius flew inside, one hand clenched into a fist, the other on a spear, trying to control the Void, which was relentless, trying to break free from his control.
However, without letting this internal struggle show, he hovered in midair, observing the faces of the Drukhari within, filled with a range of emotions. Though shock was by far the most present, even on the faces of the ancient and powerful Archons.
"Thysk and Yaelindra. I suspect Kraillach is somewhere deep within the fortress, grappling with my brother," he said, drawing even more shock from the Drukhari's expressions as he realised he knew their identities and had precise information about them.
Sanguinius himself had acquired them moments ago, combing through the minds of the Dark Eldars he had killed.
"Who are you, and what do you want, stranger? Do you really want to risk Commorragh's wrath?" Thysk asked, trying to sound confident and decisive, but Sanguinius could see the obvious hesitation and wariness in Archon's eyes. The Drukhari were certainly aware of the difference in strength between them; their senses, sensitive to the energies of the Immaterium, undoubtedly allowed them to recognise his psychic power.
"I thought I was quite unique and easy to recognise, but it turns out I'm not… You really can't guess who I am?" He replied, a hint of humour in his voice, then added with a sigh, disappointed, "I am Sanguinius, Great Angel, once Primarch of the IX Legion of the Imperium of Mankind, now Lord of Ilmarin, and soon, sole ruler of the Webway."
He could see from their faces that his words had both surprised and angered them. After all, to control the Webway, he would have to either destroy or dominate their race. There was no other option.
"Impossible… Sanguinius is dead. He died on Terra over a thousand years ago at the hand of the Champion of the Ruinous Powers, Horus," Yaelindra replied, clearly irritated and furious, but apparently too cautious of him to allow himself to attack or use harsher words that might provoke him. They feared him and feared him greatly.
"And yet I stand here before you, safe and sound, and more powerful than ever," he said, allowing them to speak as long as they want. They believed they were stalling for time, but while he held the attention of the Archons and many other powerful Dark Ones, the Krorks were massacring their army. He had no doubt about that.
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Webway, Blackstone Fortress
Varok
Once they had broken through the first Drukhari defences, he signalled dispersal, and the 234 from over five hundred soldiers following him split into six-man squads, which set off down the many branching corridors, clearing them. He, however, at the head of the remaining, set off forward along the main artery.
The Dark Ones resistance was paltry, so they cleared room after room at a steady pace, unstoppable. Their projectiles, energy beams, or even just their fists tore their enemies to shreds. With surgical precision, without hesitation, without thought. They were like 'machines' built for war and killing. And indeed they were created for this.
He was constantly in touch with his subordinate officers, who reported equally effective extermination of the enemy on all fronts of their attack.
He easily yanked his wraithbone axe from the body of one of the opponents and hurled it across the 200-foot-long room, striking one of the haemonculi and pinning it to the wall.
Retaking his Star Cannon, he unleashed a volley of plasma bolts, eliminating the remaining enemies.
The further they advanced, the more and more teams split off, heading into corridors that branched off in different directions, for that was how they were most effective. This wasn't a battlefield where numbers mattered, but mobility and efficiency did.
As they entered the next room, the massive gate on the other side opened, and a whole host of abominations created by the Haemonculi, led by dozens of Talos, poured out.
However, only a tenth of them managed to reach the Krorks' projectiles, which rained down on them, and even those were crushed like worms.
Varok crushed the thorax of one Talos in his massive hand, then hurled it at another, and in seconds he himself had covered hundreds of feet and crashed headlong into their masters behind the gate.
He had to admit, he'd forgotten how wonderful that feeling was. How liberating it was to crush an enemy with his bare hands, and how good it was to fight side by side with his brethren again.
He had to admit that everything was going surprisingly smoothly; he had expected much greater resistance, but then again, his boys might not have participated in such clashes for millions of years, hidden away in Ilmarin, where time flowed differently.
The experience of dozens of battles against far more demanding opponents had not been wasted. The Necrons gave them more than a fair fight, and he preferred not to remember their masters. He had been present when Mag'ladroth single-handedly held off over a dozen Old Ones and their most powerful creations, Asuryan and Khaine.
Varok was convinced that only the Void Dragon's arrogance had allowed the Necrons to shatter him into shards and imprison him. For even the C'tan's greatest weakness, the energies of the Immaterium, were ineffective against the Eternal Void.
At the head of the three remaining squads, he entered the long corridor that, according to plans, should lead to the central part of the fortress. It stretched for almost a mile, but before they were even halfway there, they heard the sounds of fighting.
Screams of anger and terror mingled with the sounds of weapons and the dying. He signalled his boys to remain alert, then moved on.
As they entered a vast chamber, seemingly a training ground, they were met with the sight of hundreds of bodies in various stages of mutilation from ammunition and bladed weapons.
But that wasn't what caught Varok's attention. It was a figure clad in golden armour with white and red accents, who, with a single-edged blade held in his right hand, was finishing off the last of the surviving Drukhari.
The man—for he was undoubtedly human, as his helmetless face suggested—had sharp features and eyes more slanted than Sanguinius's. His head was shaved except for a ponytail of black hair at the centre of his skull, and his face was adorned with a moustache and a long, thin beard.
Old Krork had seen enough images of the Primarchs in their database to recognise one of the famous sons of the Emperor of Mankind, both in the Materium and the Immaterium.
The man had noticed their arrival and was now observing them intently, but, Varok noted, without a trace of fear. And that spoke volumes about the Primarch, for their several-meter-tall, massive forms, armoured from head to toe, should have inspired fear in even the bravest.
"Jaghatai Khan," Varok spoke, removing his helmet. "We are not enemies, but reinforcements. Your brother sends us."
The man, frowning, began to walk toward them at a leisurely pace, his sabre at the ready.
"Intelligent Orks. I haven't seen this before," Khan replied, then added, "Which of my brothers is so idiotic as to fraternise with you? Only one of the traitors, I suppose. Angron? Or perhaps Leman? They act first and think later."
"No. I didn't mean them," Varok denied. "We serve the Great Angel."