The Emperor of Randan arrived.
It appeared in a crimson, vibrant light like the throat of a beast, treading upon death and silence from the horizon, and came to this battlefield.
No one could discern its face, not even Morgana, who had opened her third eye. Any warrior who attempted to distinguish its appearance, if his eyes weren't killed by the blinding light, if his spirit wasn't twisted by its mad will, all he would see was the most majestic and sacred armor, bathed in boundless light like a star.
And in that boundless light, some saw the most twisted monsters, some saw the most horrifying skulls, and others saw the most powerful opponent who had once been a step away from killing them: everyone, regardless of their courage or wisdom, when they looked at the Xenos Overlord, they would only see the deepest fears within their hearts.
Those fears they hadn't even anticipated were now, with an unstoppable and triumphant momentum, breaking through their defenses, as even the most stubborn resistance was nothing more than annoying midges on a summer night.
The Emperor of Randan, perhaps ten meters tall, as it walked, ran, and charged with the fastest speed towards the formations of the Space Wolves, the tide it unleashed was more terrifying than the most united Mars Titan Legion, and the sword light it wielded was mightier than the most magnificent battleship fleet's broadside.
To obstruct it was to die.
To look upon it was to fear.
Both Astartes and Primarchs felt fear: a primal instinct they theoretically no longer possessed.
For a moment, Leman Russ even genuinely felt his loyalty challenged and shaken. As the immense roar, slaughter, and footsteps were captured by his senses, the Wolf King of Fenris felt his fingers go numb, as if he had fallen into the deepest trench in the sea.
Neither the brutal eternal winter of Fenris, nor the slight anger displayed by the Lord of Mankind due to two failures, nor the countless, spoken and unspoken, [creatures] he had faced during the Great Crusade, had ever given him this feeling, this feeling closest to fear.
The Primarch of the Sixth Legion instantly recognized that this fear did not come from his body, but from his soul.
But despite this, Leman Russ did not stop his task.
Sweat dripped, thick and sticky on every inch of the Primarch's skin: in just a few seconds, the two children of the Emperor had reached an incredible level of efficiency. They almost ignored everything external, pouring all their strength into destroying the apparatus in front of them.
In the time it took for a mortal to blink, Morgana had squeezed her soul power to identify hundreds of gaps and vulnerabilities, while Leman Russ wielded the Spear of Dionysus: this divine weapon, which even he needed to exert all his strength to swing, left shocking holes in every indicated target.
Hundreds of thrusts, each forcing the two Primarchs to expend all their remaining strength to ensure no repeat was necessary.
"One last one."
Morgana's voice, equally trembling, equally shuddering, equally striving to remain calm amidst boundless fear and dread, echoed in Leman Russ's ear. At the same time, the last glimmer of light appeared in Leman Russ's eyes—the final mark.
The Wolf King did not hesitate. He raised the Spear of Dionysus in his hand, poured all his strength into it, and thrust downwards.
Destroying the sturdy shell of the Fate Engine was undoubtedly a very difficult task. This terrifying apparatus, which concentrated all the hopes, despairs, and ambitions of an entire race, blended with blasphemous technology from the Immaterium.
It existed on the blurred boundary between reality and fantasy. Even the most powerful orbital bombardment could not harm it: except for the divine weapon personally bestowed upon Leman Russ by the Emperor, which contained the power of the Lord of Mankind.
With the mighty power of the Primarch, coupled with the Spider Queen's manipulation, and the will of the Lord of Mankind sealed within the Spear of Dionysus: the cooperation and combined efforts of these three gradually shattered the existence known as the Fate Engine.
This vessel, personally created and blessed by the divine beings of the Sea of Souls and the Endless Forge, was as towering and magnificent as a mountain.
Leman Russ had to exert all his strength to shake it repeatedly: the outer shell shattered, machines shrieked, and the once indestructible twisted pipes and dense metal finally, like majestic glaciers scorched by the scorching sun, showed shocking, massive scars.
Like a sturdy paper bag filled with water, this construct, which had been carefully balanced by luck and manipulation, finally burst open with the Wolf King's roar and swing.
Although its body, comparable to a Hive City, was beyond the Wolf King's direct challenge, with Morgana's utmost assistance, a towering and twisted gap, wider and larger than a Warlord-Class Titan, was forcefully carved through the most robust outer shell by the unstoppable power of the Spear of Dionysus.
Hundreds of meters of thick outer shell were completely destroyed by the Primarch's power, and the fear contained within it: souls, countless souls, innumerable souls even if Morgana's and Magnus the Red's wisdom were combined, they could not fully count them surged out like a surging, drawn tsunami, rushing towards the vast heavens and earth, and towards the two gasping Primarchs.
What a terrifying power that was! Countless lives screaming in death, betrayal, and torment, their anger and resentment swelling day by day, their numbers terrifyingly vast: even if all the souls Morgana had killed, devoured, and utilized so far were added together, they would be but the tip of this power's iceberg.
This terrifying tide: it could completely destroy a Primarch mentally.
The Wolf King gritted his teeth, commanding his body to recover from its profound weakness with the fastest speed, but this still could not stop the tide from rushing towards him.
Just then, Morgana's hand rested on Russ's shoulder guard.
The Spider Queen of the Second Legion was gritting her teeth, her face having become incredibly distorted and terrifying.
In the face of this endless tide of wailing souls, Morgana issued an unbendable death command to her will: blood flowed from the corner of her mouth, her mind screamed relentlessly.
Finally, she temporarily suppressed this destructive torrent, and she seized this fleeting moment, less than a single breath, to utter the simplest spell.
The next second, Morgana and Leman Russ tumbled into the distance, watching the destructive tide begin to indiscriminately destroy everything around them, like a tsunami ravaging a fragile fishing village.
Leman Russ watched this scene, taking two heavy breaths, then impatiently stood up.
"Is it over?"
"Just to be safe, we should expand the gap further."
"Then you do it."
"...?"
Morgana, still panting heavily, looked at her blood kin, wanting to understand, but she quickly realized it was a futile gesture, for Leman Russ's actions were all too clear.
Without a moment's pause, once Leman Russ's strength had slightly recovered, he eagerly entered a state of combat and mad dash. Gripping his axe and the Spear of Dionysus, he sped towards the distance.
There, the shouts and war cries of thousands of Space Wolves shook the heavens, yet they were diminishing at a chilling rate. With every fleeting moment, hundreds of roaring voices completely vanished.
In contrast, the crimson star was now just a step away from the Fate Engine.
In the instant of Morgana's surprise, the Wolf King of Fenris vanished from her sight. Morgana gritted her teeth, commanding her voice to penetrate distance and space, echoing in Leman Russ's mind.
"Come back! Leman Russ! There are more important things here!"
The Wolf King did not stop. In a few breaths, he had crossed countless hills and burning ruins. His eyes were wide, his lips pressed shut, his face exceptionally solemn.
And in the Sea of Souls, the furious Primarch was practically clutching the collar of her blood kin, roaring in anger. She could even feel the hot, dry air from Fenris assaulting her face and pupils.
"Important things?!"
"I'm telling you! Morgana!"
"Do you see that place?! Those are my sons! They are fighting! They are bleeding! They are dying in droves!"
"I must get there! I must fight alongside them! For me! That is the most important thing!"
Morgana gritted her teeth, summoning her psychic power, and flew towards the collapsing soul cage, continuing her task. Her venomous voice echoed in Leman Russ's mind for a long time.
"It's stronger than you think!"
"Leman Russ! You will die!"
Her answer was a burst of laughter, and an unhesitating reply, all within the briefest instant.
"Is that so."
"Then remember to collect my corpse."
There was no further reply.
And when Morgana looked at the Sea of Souls of her blood kin again, she heard only endless courage, faith, and battle cries.
And more, things she couldn't immediately comprehend.
Slaughter.
This was slaughter.
In a mere fraction of time, utterly negligible in the eyes of mortals, the Emperor of Randan had already reached the edge of the Fate Engine. It walked from one side of the battlefield to the other; no one could stop it.
Even the Space Wolves, endless Space Wolves, surged continuously from the breached battlefield, perhaps thousands, perhaps tens of thousands.
But it was meaningless.
The Emperor strode forward, unstoppable. With a single strike, it cleaved an impassable and unassailable chasm through the iron-grey tide of Astartes. A thousand Astartes warriors died under this single blow, and many more sons of Russ were flung into the sky by the slightest ripple, falling heavily, their staunchest wills unable to help them rise quickly.
The Legion was shattered.
The Emperor took less than a second to complete this strike, and less than another second to cross the broken Legion. It had arrived beside its beloved creation, and just then, it heard the sound it least wanted to hear.
It was the sound of shattering, the sound of countless souls being released, meaning the cage was no longer perfect, but had a fatal flaw.
Even the greatest will, the most majestic sovereign, paused at this moment. A wave of emotion regarding fate and the future assailed it, leaving it motionless for an instant, only to sigh and lament.
And as it quickly regained its composure, preparing to rush to the breach and attempt to mend it, it saw that figure.
Everyone saw that figure.
He leaped high, more powerful and graceful than any great hero.
It was Leman Russ.
Before him, the gleam of the Spear of Dionysus flashed.
One strike.
Amidst the cheers and roars of all the Space Wolves, two of the most powerful beings clashed.
The Xenos Overlord's gigantic claw pierced the Primarch's arm; the strongest and thickest armor split open like dry leaves, and the gushing blood of the Primarch stained it.
And Russ's Spear of Dionysus pierced through air and gravity, leaving a gap, a fleeting light, on the Emperor of Randan's most magnificent armor.
Both warriors roared, exhausting their strength, then were involuntarily forced back by the backlash of the battle.
The Xenos Overlord retreated one step, while the Primarch fell to the ground, rolled a few times, and barely regained his footing.
But even so, the unharmed face of the Emperor of Randan was cold, while Leman Russ, bleeding profusely amidst the cheers and gasps of his sons, smiled.
"Kill me, or stay here."
Looking at his opponent, the Primarch uttered these words, then raised his Spear of Dionysus once more.
Charge!
Charge!
As if on a gamble of the gods, the great heroes, having wagered everything, were making their charge, and their tragedy.
The Primarch roared, fought, constantly squeezing out all his strength and skill, striving to hold his ground against the unstoppable onslaught of this formidable foe.
Leman Russ swung his spear in a wide arc, delivering one strike, while his opponent delivered at least ten, each hitting his body and arms, and this exchange occurred multiple times each second.
By the time the nearest Space Wolves rushed to the scene, their gene-father had completely become a man of blood, steadily retreating under the Xenos' assault.
But despite this, Leman Russ was still smiling.
In a duel no one could clearly see, amidst the desperate exchange of wounds to keep up with his powerful opponent, the Wolf King of Fenris stared at the unharmed Xenos Overlord before him and spoke a single sentence.
"I don't need to win."
"Do I?"
He smiled.
And with his laughter, just dozens of seconds into this battle and slaughter, another explosion erupted.
This time, it was utterly earth-shattering.
The Fate Engine shook, roared incessantly, and crumbled into dust.
Under the desperate assault of a Primarch, it utterly died.
A rift, a massive rift, large enough to tear apart a Hive City, had appeared on one side of the cage. Billions of souls, with every beat of a heart, escaped, shattered, and ceased to exist in batch after batch.
Finally, the Xenos Overlord's face turned utterly icy. It frantically tried to rush over, but was stopped again and again: stopped by this laughing, barbaric, battle-scarred victor.
The silence ignited.
"Enough!"
Finally, the roar belonging to the Xenos and the Emperor echoed in the Sea of Souls.
The Emperor of Randan took a step forward. It did not block Leman Russ's attack; it allowed the Spear of Dionysus to plunge fiercely into its chest, piercing the armor and drawing blood.
And at that moment, it clenched its fist, and in a time frame the Primarch couldn't react to, it slammed its fist into Leman Russ's golden-haired head.
One strike.
The Primarch fell, his breath becoming incredibly weak; he couldn't even roar or laugh.
His battle-axe shattered completely under this blow, and the Spear of Dionysus slipped from his fingers, rolling to the ground.
The Emperor advanced again, attempting to reach the rift, or perhaps to kill the cub before it, but everything was in vain: all the Space Wolves swarmed forward.
The endless iron-grey mass rushed without a hint of hesitation. Thousands of Russ's sons, amidst endless roars and shouts, charged towards their gene-father, protecting him.
Slaughtered, killed, their souls and lives plundered, unhesitatingly crushed into exploding flesh and blood... nothing could stop them. In the shortest time, hundreds of the finest Space Wolves died beside their gene-father, using their lives and bodies to block the Xenos Overlord, until anger once again surged within it.
"Die."
It uttered, beginning to unleash power capable of annihilating everyone.
And just then, it heard a cold rebuke.
"Get lost!"
"You damn Xenos!"
The Xenos Overlord looked up, seeing only a pair of blue-green pupils burning with genuine fury within.
The next second, she spat out blood, great gouts of it.
Accompanying the blood, the most violent tide surged forward—the prisoners released from the Fate Engine. Under her strenuous guidance and command, they formed a tide capable of destroying everything, surging towards the Emperor of Randan.
They could not kill it.
But they were enough to buy time.
To buy the most precious few seconds.
Morgana breathed, feeling a wave of weakness indiscriminately assaulting her mind. Forcefully commanding such a vast and resentful power made her lips, her heart, and her soul bleed.
She would never normally do this.
But she did it.
This was something even Morgana herself could not explain or comprehend in such a short time.
But she had no time to think. In this briefest of opportunities, she once again drove her remaining strength, even at the cost of allowing more blood and chaos to run rampant in her mind.
Finally, she summoned a portal, a portal leading to the surface of Tacus V, a portal to survival.
Without any hesitation, she threw the dying Leman Russ into it, and then threw in every Space Wolf she could see who could still fight.
She had no time for anything else. She only remembered, before the Space Wolves, throwing her own children in as well, wrapped in a basic layer of protection.
Normally, even just moments ago, all of this would have taken no more than a blink of an eye. But now, Morgana was so weak that she had to consciously force herself to do these things.
Even after all this was done, only a few seconds had passed. The Emperor of Randan had roared, and before its roar, the tide of souls temporarily shattered. Morgana had reached the portal.
In the final moment, her gaze lingered between the wounded, fallen Space Wolves in the distance and the Spear of Dionysus.
She did not hesitate.
The last opportunity was used to grasp the weapon personally bestowed by the Emperor, and then Morgana vanished into the portal.
Leaving behind only the Emperor of Randan, silent, looking at the now dead Fate Engine.
Having made some kind of resolution.
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