The aftertaste of battle still clung to Nocturne. But the people no longer hid. They walked openly among the ruins, carrying their wounded, burning the alien dead, and speaking a name with growing certainty: Vulkan.
He had killed roughly a hundred Dark Eldar that day. Not only in blind fury, but with the purpose of saving and protecting the people of Nocturne. He acted out of wrath born of love and kinship.
And Karesh had stood beside him, drenched in gore and blood, no longer willing to submit to the grim fact that they were sheep to be slaughtered and enslaved by the Dark Eldar. Something had awakened inside him that neither Karesh himself nor Vulkan yet understood. All they knew was that it allowed Karesh to become the ultimate warrior, ploughing through corpses of Dark Eldar.
Within weeks, the leaders of the seven greatest towns travelled across the volcanic plains and through ash storms to kneel before Vulkan. They did not beg for his protection, as he gave it freely, with a smile on his face.
Never again would they want to hide in fear, never again would Nocturne bow to the twilight spectres. They would take their fate into their own hands, and if necessary, they would die for their freedom. Vulkan looked at the people in thought. He turned to Karesh, who was observing him with interest. Vulkan then turned to address the people who knelt before him.
"I am deeply honoured by your feelings of gratitude, my brothers and sisters. I recognise the reliance you place on me and realise it is my duty to use the gifts I was granted. I hereby vow to obliterate any enemy that threatens your safety, and I assure you, you will never have to hide again."
Instead of conquering his world, the young Primarch found it bending before him, not out of fear, but out of deep respect and admiration. And since they swore an oath to always fight for freedom, he himself also swore such an oath. For Nocturne was his home, and his family and friends lived here. He would fight and, if necessary, die for it, just like the people had sworn that day.
.
In celebration of their hard-won victory over the Dark Elar, the people decided to host a grand tournament filled with contests of strength and skill familiar to the locals. Great pyres were lit, forges roared day and night, illuminating the night sky and spreading warmth. Drums thundered against basalt cliffs, and the sound of hammers hitting anvils could be heard almost constantly. The air smelled of molten iron and sweat. It was not laughter born of comfort and happiness.
"Can you imagine? I almost died back there. Thankfully, Vulkan was there and killed the filthy Xenos."
"Ah, that's nothing. I suppose we all did very little compared to Lord Vulkan."
"Well... I suppose there's Karesh. He looked like he'd climbed out of a magma pit."
"Haha, true. He did look terrible. But I heard that he killed several of the spectres himself."
"Truly? What a guy. From now on, I'll also fight for our home and not hide any longer."
"Me too."
"So, are you going to enter the tournament?" the second man asked.
"Eh, I'm not sure. I might, but what's the point? If Lord Vulkan enters, we're all hopeless anyway."
"I think he said that he won't participate for that exact reason."
A tournament had been planned and was going to happen. If Nocturne was to stand unafraid against the darkness of the galaxy, its greatest warriors would need to be tested beforehand. The hammers needed to be forged in battle and training.
Karesh stood beside Vulkan near the central forge, with his arms folded. He had healed fully; not a single scratch remained. But he could feel the hundreds of different cuts and wounds the Dark Eldar had inflicted on him. Each regeneration had sharpened him further. He had grown stronger and faster. The battle had acted as an anvil and taught him much.
"You enjoy this," Karesh muttered.
Vulkan smiled faintly as he heard his brother talk. He had been worried initially that the experience would have left him scarred. Not physically, since he had a marvellous healing ability, but mentally. But he understood that wasn't the case. Karesh had not changed fundamentally, in Vulkan's eyes. To Vulkan's senses, Karesh was like a blade that had finally been used for its intended purpose and had been sharpened and tasted blood for the first time.
"I enjoy seeing them unafraid."
"I do too. The idea was a good one. They'll need to grow stronger and learn how to fight the Xenos. The next time, they'll come prepared for us."
"I agree."
The two stopped talking as a presence drew their attention. A stranger had arrived on Nocturne. He came walking through volcanic dust and smoke, as though the heat did not touch him, and his skin remained unblemished.
He was tall. but not towering like Vulkan. The most distinctive attribute was his pale skin, where Nocturne's people were darkened by millennia of sun and ash. His clothing was unlike any forge-worked garment known to Nocturne: it was layered, flowing with the wind and subtle, yet impossibly elegant. He had no visible weapon, nor did he wear armour.
For all intents and purposes, he looked totally unimpressive and not dangerous.
Yet Karesh felt it instantly. His instincts screamed at him and warned him of danger. The world seemed to narrow around the stranger, who looked totally unimpressive.
'He hides it,' Karesh thought. 'But it is there. Something vast.'
The man's eyes moved once across the gathered crowd… and landed on Vulkan. A small smile could be seen on his face as he saw him, which turned to amusement, when he quickly looked over Karesh.
"I request permission to compete," the stranger said calmly. "I will outshine all the other participants in this competition."
...
"Hahahahahahaah" "Hahahahaha" "Hohohohoho" "Hehehehehehe" "Bahahahaha"
Laughter erupted around them. All who heard it found such audacity laughable.
One elder called out, "Compete? Against him?"
Vulcan, their beloved champion, towered over this fair-skinned stranger and was far stronger, making him the clear favourite. The stranger's gaze did not shift, and his mood did not change.
"I can see that you are the clear crowd favourite. Very well, I challenge you, son of a Blacksmith, to a one-on-one competition. The loser will pledge eternal loyalty to the victor."
The laughter stopped at hearing such audacious words. Vulkan was their saviour, and they didn't like to hear such words. They were a bit touchy when it came to slavery, and pledging eternal loyalty sounded a bit like that. Vulkan chuckled, hearing those words.
Karesh, on the other hand, did not laugh. Something bothered him greatly, and it seemed that he was the only one who could see past the veil that seemed to cover the stranger. He looked at Vulkan, wanting to hear what he thought and whether he could feel and see it too.
Vulkan stepped forward.
"You would challenge me?"
"I would," the man answered.
Karesh leaned closer.
"Brother, think about this once more. There is more to this man than meets the eye. I sense... considerable power."
Hearing these words, the stranger looked at Karesh, and a slight surprise could be seen on his face. But only for a fraction of a second, before he had himself under control again. Vulkan's eyes were calm.
"Very well. I accept your challenge, stranger. If you are indeed hiding your strength, then I will learn from it."
.
The contests lasted eight days. Over eight days and nights, the tournament rigorously tested the fortitude of many brave competitors.
They lifted anvils above their heads from sunrise to moonfall. Neither lowered their arms, unwilling to admit defeat. When the judges called it a tie, both still stood unmoving.
They forged blades from Nocturne volcanic iron. Vulkan's hammer sang as he enjoyed himself and forged a great blade. Sparks moved around him. The stranger worked more quietly, but the metal seemed to obey him just as much, and both managed to create an equally stunning piece of weaponry, leaving the judges once again unable to decide a victor.
They wrestled in ash pits, cracking the ground beneath their grappling. Each clash sounded like falling boulders, as their massively powerful muscles collided. But again, no clear victor could be singled out.
They debated philosophy before the elders. Vulkan spoke of protecting the weak and showing compassion. The stranger spoke of uniting mankind among the stars and his dream of freedom and the safety of humanity. Both managed to move the judges to tears.
Karesh watched constantly with narrowed eyes. He observed the man with his senses, not sight alone. The flow of his movements, the subtle weight distribution, the cadence of breath... everything.
Perfect. Too perfect. And therefore... false. An illusion if he ever saw one.
One evening, as the fourth day ended, Karesh handed Vulkan a heavy iron cup filled with fermented fire-root brew. They sat apart from the noise, near a cooling lava stream, looking at the night sky and enjoying each other's company and warmth.
"You do not trust him," Vulkan said.
Karesh snorted.
"Trust? No. He is dangerous and puts on an illusion. What others see is not what he actually looks like. I don't understand what everyone sees in him. He's a normal human, even if he has light skin. And the way he carries himself, all of it tells me that he is under an illusion, hiding the truth in some way."
Vulkan chuckled softly.
"You feel threatened?"
"It isn't his size." Karesh's jaw tightened. "It is like standing near a volcano before it erupts. Quiet, but you know and feel all that pressure is about to explode and kill you."
Vulkan drank.
"And yet he competes fairly. I sense no malicious intent from him, only genuine warmth."
"Yes. That is what troubles me most. I believe he can hide his true intentions and emotions."
Vulkan leaned back, looking at the stars barely visible through ash.
"If he defeats me, then I will serve him. If I defeat him, he will serve Nocturne. That is the wager we both agreed on, and I am certain he will hold his end of the deal."
Karesh shook his head.
"You are too willing to gamble yourself. This man hides such depth, and without knowing what he truly hides, you accept such a deal."
"I would gamble myself for them every time."
Karesh had no answer to that. He understood where his brother was coming from. He understood the desire to help others, but he didn't seem to consider the long-term repercussions. Where was this stranger coming from? How had he arrived on Nocturne? Because no one who lived on Nocturne looked like that. And why wasn't anyone bothered by these questions?
By the end of the eighth day, the impossible had happened. Both competitors were tied.
.
On the Final Trial, it was decided that each would forge another weapon in twenty-four hours. Then they would climb Mount Deathfire, a volcano restless even by Nocturne's standards, and slay the largest salamander they could find. Salamanders were large lizards native to the volcanic world of Nocturne. The particularly large and dangerous variety of salamander known as firedrakes could breathe fire, weigh up to several tons, and were found on Mount Deathfire.
The mountains rumbled more than usual as they climbed. As if it sensed something monumental was happening. Vulkan found his drake first. It was enormous, a Fire Drake with dark, powerful scales like armour and a roar that shook the cliffs. The battle was magnificent. Two beasts clashed. Vulkan's forged weapon, a massive spear-hammer hybrid, smashed the Fire Drake's skull after a prolonged struggle.
Beneath his feet, the volcano's rumbling increased, and in a moment that took the Primarch by surprise, it erupted. The mountain split and lava burst skyward. The ground beneath Vulkan crumbled, making him lose his footing, and he was almost thrown over the cliff.
With his immense strength and reflexes, he caught the edge with one hand, while with the other, he held the drake's corpse. He had to keep it from falling into the lava, as it proved his success. He had to bring it back; otherwise, no matter what he said, he would fail the final test. And that couldn't happen. Vulkan had promised his people to help them, and right about now... he remembered the words Karesh told him.
The beast's corpse dangled over the abyss. The temperature was immense, but Vulkan never let go. For hours, he held on, unwilling to admit that he might fail a task he had set out for himself. But after hours of holding, even Vulkan's strength began to dwindle.
Then the stranger appeared from his hunt, carrying a drake in his hand. When Vulkan saw the size of the beast, his eyes widened, for it was larger than his.
The stranger took in the scene in a heartbeat and then, without hesitation, he hurled his drake's corpse into the lava flow between him and Vulkan. The large body fell into the lava and briefly halted the flow, forming a burning bridge. He crossed this salamander bridge, and just in time, he seized Vulkan's forearm, using his immense strength, pulling him to safety.
He did not look at the drake he had hunted as it burned away. For he had made a decision the moment he came across the situation.
.
They returned to the settlement together, where everyone expected good news, and they weren't disappointed. The stranger was empty-handed, while Vulkan carried his drake with little difficulty.
"As the judges of this final task, we declare Vulkan the victor."
The people cheered and were happy that their chosen champion had won. But Vulkan was not happy. He looked at Karesh, who recognised the look on his face. Then, Vulkan smiled gently and, to everyone's surprise, knelt before the stranger.
...
Silence followed. Some gasps rippled through the crowd, and Karesh's heart slammed in his chest cavity. He knew that the stranger shouldn't have been underestimated, but to see his brother kneel before that man was painful to watch. He still trusted Vulkan to have a good reason for what he did.
"Any man," Vulkan said, voice echoing across basalt and ash, "who would value life over pride... is worthy of my service."
The stranger regarded him with approval and pride. He held out his hand and helped Vulkan to his feet again.
"I am honoured."
Then light began to shimmer over his figure. The illusion shattered like glass, and where the ''normal'' fair-skinned, pale outlander had stood, now stood a being radiant as the bright yellow sun.
Golden armour formed around him, wrought in artistry beyond mortal forging, striking Vulkan's interest right away. A blade of impossible design and pulsing power rested at his side. His presence pressed upon reality itself, making almost everyone want to kneel.
Karesh staggered as the hidden power revealed itself slightly. Now he saw it, a glimpse of the being's true power and grace.
"My son," the Outsider said gently.