Hummm.
The sky filled with streaks of red light, and then the whole firmament turned blood-red.
It was the Blood God's Chaos ritual.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
Countless corpses and even living bodies were hurled into the blood ritual array, including no small number of Chaos fanatics.
Even some howling Khorne daemons had their heads chopped off and shoved into the array as sacrificial fuel.
There was no helping it. They were short on offerings. Who could have guessed that they would not even be able to find enough cultists in the Solar System? Nor had they harvested enough blood and corpses from the war itself.
The Khorne sorcerers had no choice but to make up the difference with Chaos beings on the spot so they could complete the blood array and summon reinforcements.
It was a massive expenditure, a sacrificial loss from start to finish. The overwhelming majority of the cost was being paid by the great Blood God Himself.
It was basically the same as a bunch of followers sending Khorne an empty package, then saying, Old man, hurry up and wire us the money.
"What blasphemy..."
The phantom of Khorne looked at the scene, and its face darkened considerably.
Under normal circumstances, if He saw His followers slighting and insulting Him so carelessly, He would have overturned the entire array and devoured everything around it.
But now He had no choice except to accept it, summon more daemonic reinforcements, and support Horus in winning this Siege of Terra.
Otherwise, He would lose even more.
Khorne went through the motions with a black expression, granted the prayers of His followers, and drew upon His own immense power to pour it into the blood array.
The expenditure was so great that even He felt a hint of emptiness. The recent chain of losses had placed real strain on His divine body.
In short, it was a catastrophic loss.
He could only hope Horus would win the war, seal away the Accursed One, and then recover His losses in faith and divine authority through a galaxy plunged back into darkness.
Perhaps once the Chaos Gods divided up the Imperium of Man and the Savior's power among themselves, They would not only recover their costs, but turn a tidy profit besides.
As the Blood God's power of faith poured in, reality warped once again. The platform zone already occupied by Chaos began to quake violently.
Crack.
Mechanical structures split apart. Huge masses of steel wreckage came crashing down, and then a gigantic pillar of blood-red light descended and blasted everything in the surrounding area to pieces.
"Blood God!"
"We shall become one with this glorious slaughter!"
The spreading beam swallowed up the Khorne sorcerers who had been controlling the blood ritual array. They too became fuel.
Ætheric lava-fire ignited, and a new army of Blood God daemons marched forth from a sea of molten blood.
Savage Bloodletters brandished their swords. Two-headed Flesh Hounds drooled and snarled. More daemons, hateful war engines, and brutal daemon engines advanced under the call of war horns in tightly ordered formations.
The final phalanx consisted of Bloodthirsters in multiples of eight. There were sixty-four of them in total.
"War! Slaughter!"
The appearance of these greater daemons of Khorne kicked up towering tides of molten brass and blood, transforming the entire platform into a realm of brass.
Under the influence of slaughter made manifest, it had become territory of the Blood God.
The strength of this Khorne reinforcement force alone was eight times greater than the army that had previously invaded the Lion's Gate on Terra.
At the same time, other abominable pillars of light in different colors descended onto the other defensive platforms.
The mist of desire seeped into machinery and made slick tentacles sprout from it. Reeking sludge spread outward, turning iron platforms into swampy mire. Maddening flames and crystals reshaped entire regions into labyrinths.
The other Chaos Gods had also begun to pour in their power of faith, summoning their own daemonic armies from their domains.
That included greater daemons gathered in multiples matching each god's sacred number.
After expending a considerable amount of strength, Grandfather Nurgle lay back down upon the rotting plank bed in His black hut, looking somewhat drained.
His mountain-like body trembled faintly. The wounds left behind by the Accursed One had burst open and festered again, streams of pus pouring downward like vast waterfalls into the endless abyss beneath the bed.
The pain from those wounds made Him groan without pause.
"My apostle, destroy the Savior's defenses quickly."
The Plague Lord cast His gaze toward Horus, the Dark Emperor, and the entire Chaos hall bore the weight of His endless pressure.
And not just Him. The phantoms of the Blood God, the Changer of Ways, and the Prince of Pleasure also appeared, issuing their warning to Horus.
The manifestations of the Chaos Gods stood within the endless vortex above the Chaos hall, overlooking everything below. The pressure they radiated was enough to shake any being to its core.
"Grandfather."
A trace of struggle and disgust crossed Mortarion's face, but he still bowed respectfully toward the region where the phantoms of the Chaos Gods hovered.
The fallen primarch's feelings toward the Plague Lord were deeply complicated. Reverence mixed with forced humiliation and unwilling submission.
Especially when he stood so close to that being, the feeling only became stronger.
Without question, he had yielded in the end.
Magnus and the other fallen primarchs also bowed at that moment, submitting to the control the Chaos Gods held over them.
After their resurrection through cloned bodies, their wills had fallen under far tighter divine control. They were almost incapable of disobeying the gods' commands.
Elsewhere in the Chaos hall, the other Chaos warriors and higher beings also dropped to their knees in waves.
They did not dare show the slightest trace of defiance.
"That outcome is inevitable."
Horus remained seated on his throne, showing neither fear nor submission to the authority of the gods the way the other fallen primarchs did.
His will seemed even tougher than it had been ten thousand years ago.
The Dark Emperor did not even rise from the throne. Like a true sovereign, he merely lifted his head and stared directly at the power-phantoms of the gods.
He did not submit.
Neither did his Dark Justaerin.
One after another, those warriors stood with straight backs, refusing to bow beneath the gods' pressure the way the other Chaos warriors had.
The Dark Justaerin believed they were warriors of Horus, the Dark Emperor, not servants of the Chaos Gods.
To put it simply, in their eyes there was only the Dark Emperor, and no gods.
After all, they had followed Horus since ten thousand years ago, through the Great Crusade and the great rebellion. They were his most loyal bodyguards, his gene-sons.
Even in death, the souls of the Dark Justaerin had remained loyal to Horus, right up until he called them back with Chaos sorcery and led them into battle once more.
As Mortarion and the others remained bent in salute, they saw Horus's irreverent posture and broke into a faint cold sweat.
They dearly wanted to remind that brother of theirs to show the gods proper respect instead of committing such blasphemy.
It could very well provoke the wrath of the Chaos Gods.
Hmmm?
Sure enough, Horus's attitude instantly caused the atmosphere in the Chaos hall to freeze.
The expressions of the gods' phantoms shifted, and savage warp-fire blazed from them.
They could hardly believe it. It was not only Horus. Even those insignificant Dark Justaerin dared reject the authority of Chaos.
As the gods' emotions stirred, They instinctively released even more terrifying pressure across the chamber.
The Dark Justaerin bore the brunt of it. Cracks spread across their black armor in varying degrees.
Yet even so, they still endured the pressure without a trace of submission, as though they would rather die than yield.
Only when Horus casually raised a hand did the Dark Justaerin finally drop to one knee, ceasing their resistance to that divine pressure.
At his command, the Dark Justaerin finally "doffed their armor."
That act was even more blasphemous than outright resistance, and the atmosphere in the Chaos hall turned even more strained.
Everyone could feel the gods' anger smoldering in the air.
"Great gods."
Horus acted as though he noticed nothing, wearing a face full of apology.
At last he rose from his throne and looked toward the Chaos Gods above.
"Please do not take offense. These bodyguards have followed me through many centuries of war.
"They know only to obey my orders. They do not know of the gods' existence..."
The Dark Emperor's arrogant, openly defiant words plunged the Chaos Gods into brief silence.
They had spent vast amounts of warp power resurrecting Horus. Even those Dark Justaerin had been recalled by Horus through their authority.
And now they had all become that man's private army?
The sight reminded the gods of the Accursed One. In the name of cooperation, that one had siphoned away Their authority and created primarchs as weapons to resist Chaos.
As expected, neither the Accursed One nor his offspring were anything good.
The atmosphere in the Chaos hall grew colder and colder. The pressure from the gods intensified until even Horus began to feel it heavily.
His breathing grew rough.
"Horus, we have granted you the gifts you desired. You know what failure will bring."
At last, the Plague Lord spoke, while He and the other gods subtly kept Khorne boxed in to prevent more accidents at such a critical moment in the war.
"Of course I know.
"More than anyone here, I hunger to win this victory and drag the false Emperor's withered bones from the Throne."
Horus's attitude was unwavering, his voice echoing through the Chaos hall.
"My patrons, I have only one request: none of you, and no one else, is to interfere with my orders.
"In this war for Terra, there can be only one voice. Mine. Horus Lupercal, the Dark Emperor of Mankind."
He was firmer than ever before, to the point that it sounded like he was making demands of the gods rather than worshipping them.
Horus commanded immense armies. He knew the gods desperately needed him. They needed him, the Dark Emperor, to win this all-important war.
More importantly, aside from him, there was no other being capable of shouldering that mission.
Put simply, the Chaos Gods had invested far too much in Horus.
They had already been forced onto the line.
There was no turning back now.
And time was running short. The Accursed One could ascend into the Dark King at any moment, leaving the gods no time to readjust their plans.
All They could do was hope that the one chosen by all the gods, the Dark Emperor, would win this war and bring a return on Their investment.
The Chaos Gods knew they were trapped.
So They chose to compromise.
Especially where the Accursed One was concerned, nothing mattered more than survival.
After issuing Their warnings, the Chaos Gods' phantoms slowly faded away.
These immortal gods of Chaos understood one thing well: so long as They survived, They would have all the time in the world to settle every last blasphemy and grudge.
"Father, this is the war between us that was never finished..."
Horus returned to his throne, that thought passing silently through his mind.
Without anyone quite noticing when it happened, the Dark Emperor had already taken hold of the situation and was using the power of the Chaos Gods to finish his own unfinished work.
That would decide who truly ruled mankind.
Once he sealed away the false Emperor and seized both His power and that of the Golden Throne, then even the Chaos Gods would no longer be able to do anything to him while he stood within the material galaxy.
He would become mankind's true Dark Emperor.
Below the throne, Mortarion and the other fallen primarchs looked at Horus with a new trace of awe.
The Dark Emperor's majesty had grown yet again. The bearing of a king was fully formed.
"My brothers, it is time we put some pressure on Rogal Dorn, that pitiful supreme commander of Terra's defenses..."
Horus looked toward the distant iron wall as he spoke.
The strength of the armies under his command now surpassed even what he had possessed ten thousand years ago by well over a factor of ten. He was confident he could shatter any defensive line.
Afterward, the Dark Emperor issued countless orders in an instant, and the Chaos armies were organized like the gears of a perfectly constructed machine.
Every ounce of their power was put to use.
They had never been stronger.
In just a few minutes, several large defensive platforms fell, and many war zones were hammered by savage assaults.
Sector Thirteen in particular saw huge swaths of territory collapse into Chaos-held land, allowing the Chaos armies to fully establish themselves.
The Imperial defenders were retreating continuously, with no ability to resist.
That gave the fallen primarchs and the greater daemonic entities even more confidence. The Dark Emperor's abilities truly far surpassed those of the Lord of Iron Bulwarks, Terra's defender, Rogal Dorn.
At the current pace, even if the Emperor Himself awakened and took command, it might already be too late to reverse the situation.
As for the Savior, no one even cared anymore.
The rampant arrogance of Chaos made the void itself seem to burn, and even Horus's presence, together with his warp-shadow, continued to swell.
He was growing stronger through this war.
It was a terrifying scene unlike anything mortal armies or even the Imperium's elite warriors had ever faced before. Chaos had become stronger than ever.
That overwhelming momentum also affected the Imperial defenders along the Iron Wall.
The torn void, the multicolored reflections of warp power, and the terrifying shadowy forms from the warp were laid bare before every eye.
The humans manning the various defensive lines found their breathing growing heavy, their minds crushed beneath immense spiritual pressure.
Some began to feel fear.
Fortunately, the blackstone devices across the lines had activated, and together with the protection of the Savior's statues, they prevented more severe spiritual corruption.
Otherwise, the unrestrained warped projections of the Chaos Gods and their malicious gazes alone would have driven vast numbers of mortals completely insane.
Some might even have been turned into creatures of Chaos.
Even the Space Marines would have suffered varying degrees of corruption, their combat strength crippled.
That was the terror of the Chaos Gods.
Their mere existence could bring catastrophic destruction upon humanity.
But that had been before.
After nearly a hundred years of unceasing effort by the Savior and the New Imperium, humanity had long since developed ways to resist Chaos corruption.
Even so, the mass projection of Horus the traitor and the Chaos Gods' armies still posed a serious threat to the Iron Wall defenses.
"Savior above.
"Damn these Chaos armies. They're about to drown our whole war zone. Looks like those gutless traitors really do want to go all in with us..."
The second-rank Honor Warrior, a veteran from Cadia, spat on the ground and cursed under his breath, clearly more than a little tense.
Looking out through the balcony window, he could see the flames of war rising from the gigantic defensive platform in the distance, along with those daemons.
Even after a hundred years of apocalyptic wars with power-armored infantry formations, he had never seen a spectacle like this.
There were more daemons than vermin, layer upon layer of them in the void like black storm clouds.
Nearby, a Kriegsman veteran, also a second-rank Honor Warrior, calmly wiped down the knife in his hand, as though he had no particular reaction to any of it.
He was not much for words, nor did he have much feeling left where daemons were concerned.
To this battle-hardened veteran of Krieg, the proper way to treat the enemy was simple: wait for orders, charge in, and kill.
Keep doing that until dying loyally in battle.
"Brothers, this might be our last fight. There are more of those abominations than the man-eating plants back in the jungles on our world."
That was what the Catachan trooper said.
He took a bold swig of strong liquor to loosen the muscles tightened by his anxiety.
"No need to be nervous. We wait for orders, that's all."
Drenin stepped over and patted his old Catachan comrade on the shoulder. The insignia of the Storm Army on his chest marked him as a first-rank Honor Warrior.
Even so, he was still only a low-ranking squad commander.
In truth, Drenin could have been promoted. He might even have become one of the Storm Army's higher-ranking officers.
But he did not want that.
He preferred fighting on the front with his brothers, and those brothers felt the same way.
Just then, several Storm Army officers passed by.
When they saw the honor insignias on Drenin and the others, they immediately saluted with great respect.
Though the men before them technically held lower rank, their standing in the order of honor far exceeded that of ordinary officers.
Even high-ranking commanders, even army marshals, had to treat these decorated veterans with due seriousness.
After Drenin and the others returned the salute, the officers hurried off, and the atmosphere somehow became even heavier.
Bang.
Without warning, flames flared up, followed by the rich aroma of cooking.
The logistics cooks were stir-frying fresh food in their woks, preparing hot lunch for the soldiers in this mess-hall section.
"Savior above.
"Damn, we've been waiting forever. Who knows when it'll finally be our turn.
"Eat first. That way we'll all have the strength to hit the battlefield and beat the hell out of those daemon bastards."
That was what Drenin said, sounding a little annoyed.
There were many more soldiers in this dining area, all waiting just like them for orders to arrive.
At the same time, they were happily wolfing down their hearty lunch. The ingredients had just been delivered fresh and cooked on the spot, not pre-made.
???
In the corner of the dining hall, a rotten fly slowly emerged.
Some being was watching the scene through the fly's eyes.
After seeing this, that being began to feel that something was wrong.
Wasn't the Imperial garrison supposed to be under enormous pressure?
It certainly did not look that way.
(End of Chapter)
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