In the Vigilant System, deep within the abyss of the void.
The first defensive line—composed of weapons platforms, space fortresses, and deep-space minefields—had been reduced to burning wreckage amid the flames of war.
Calgar stood on the bridge of his flagship, the Victory Laurel, gazing through the viewport at the ravenous Chaos fleet that devoured everything in its path.
"Report the losses."
His adjutant nodded and began reciting the battle damage assessment. All outer defense platforms had fallen. One of the star fortresses had been seized by the enemy…
Calgar's expression grew grimmer with every word. He knew he could not stop them. All he could do was buy time.
"Pass the order. All operational warships are to converge on the second defensive line and delay the enemy advance as long as possible."
…
Vengeful Spirit – The Wolf's Chamber.
This grand hall had once been the pride of the Sons of Horus, the place where every warrior received the highest honors. Horus himself had come here to bestow banners symbolizing glory and achievement. It was also where he had summoned the rebellious Primarchs to discuss their betrayal of the Imperium. The final battle between the Emperor and Horus had taken place here as well. Sanguinius, the Wolf, and countless others had fallen within these walls. Horus himself had been slain here by his father, the Emperor.
Weapon scars still marked the walls and floor—charred remnants scorched by the Emperor's psychic power, and bloodstains that could never be washed away.
The chamber was saturated with dense warp energy. Stepping inside was no different from entering the Immaterium itself. The crew who worked here had long since merged with machine and daemon, each one rooted to their station.
When Sanguinius had been resurrected, he had torn a great hole through this place. But when Vashtorr had surrendered to Abaddon, the entire ship was restored. The Wolf's Chamber was now more heavily fortified than ever, its walls bristling with intricate gears and pipes. Pulsating metallic organs hung from the ceiling, while glowing patterns of energy flowed across the floor.
At this moment, five Primarchs and numerous Chaos Lords had gathered in the hall.
Abaddon sat upon the throne that had once belonged to Horus. In the center of the chamber floated a massive holographic display showing the defensive layout of the Vigilant Star.
A smug grin played across his face. The first defensive line had been breached. The second line was on the verge of collapse. Soon, the entire Vigilant Star System would fall completely under their control.
"We have seized the initiative in the void," Abaddon declared, his voice echoing through the hall. "Next, what we must do is—"
A cold voice cut him off before the Despoiler could finish.
"Do you truly intend to make all the strategic decisions yourself?"
Abaddon's smile vanished. He turned to see Perturabo standing in the corner of the hall, arms crossed, eyes like cold steel. The Lord of Iron's armor gleamed with a metallic sheen beneath the dim light of witch-fires. Additional armor plates and energy lines made him look like a walking fortress.
"Of course. I am the Warmaster and master of the Black Legion," Abaddon replied, struggling to keep his tone even.
Perturabo's lips curled into a thin, icy smile.
"Never forget the son of Horus buried beneath the walls of the Imperial Palace."
The words struck Abaddon like a blade. That failed assault and the elite forces he had lost remained an indelible stain on his record—a source of eternal shame.
The Despoiler's lips trembled. Rage threatened to overwhelm his reason.
Perturabo ignored Abaddon's fury and swept his gaze across his brothers. He despised working with these creatures, yet without them he could never hope to stand against loyalists like Roboute Guilliman.
"This war will likely be commanded by Lion El'Jonson. His strategic talent rivals even Horus."
Perturabo turned back to Abaddon.
"If you are appointed commander, we will not even breach the Vigilant Star's defenses—and Lion El'Jonson will cast us all into hell."
Abaddon's eyes narrowed. Fury burned in his chest, but he forced it down.
"So you believe only you can command this war?"
Perturabo nodded with absolute confidence.
"Otherwise, how do you think we even entered the Sanctum in the first place? Without me, none of you would have breached the Palace walls."
Abaddon laughed inwardly. If the Alpha Legion and Word Bearers had not spent years cultivating cults, infiltrating the people of Terra, and driving them to rebellion… If the Four Chaos Gods had not constantly pressed upon the defenders' wills… If the Death Guard had not performed countless sacrificial rituals… Do you truly believe you, Perturabo, could have broken Dorn's defenses? What a foolish dream!
To breach the walls, one first had to strip the Emperor of his power. Without the aid of the Immaterium, one could not even enter the Sol System.
These words swirled in Abaddon's throat, but he swallowed them. Everyone knew how difficult Perturabo was. Clashing with him now would only throw the war into further chaos before it had even truly begun.
For now, I will endure you. When the war ends and your usefulness is fully drained, I will show you what I can do. If I cannot deal with the Nameless One, I will certainly be able to deal with you.
"If you insist," Abaddon said at last, "let the others decide. If they have no objection, neither will I."
"No objections. Let Perturabo take command."
"Let us seize this opportunity to settle all old grudges."
Fulgrim spoke in a languid tone, his voice soft yet carrying a chilling undercurrent of pleasure.
Magnus nodded in agreement, also willing to entrust command to Perturabo. Among those present, Perturabo was the most skilled in siege warfare.
"Shatter the Vigilant Star's defensive grid and seize its orbit," the Crimson King's voice rumbled. "Then the entire Human Imperium will bow before us."
Lorgar emerged from the shadows, his face hidden behind a mask of chaotic scripture, a thick blasphemous tome in his hands. The eight-pointed star on its cover seemed to writhe as if alive.
"This war must spread the glory of the Gods, completely destroy Macragge, and suffocate the Imperium."
When Macragge was mentioned, hatred flashed in Lorgar's eyes.
Guilliman… ah, Guilliman!! What level are you on? What level am I on? How dare you copy me! You once burned my perfect city. Now I will burn your Macragge and make you feel exactly what I felt then.
Mortarion alone remained silent, yet he too supported Perturabo's command of the war.
Abaddon seethed at the lack of support, but he could only swallow his rage.
Hmph. You look down on me today, but one day I will make sure none of you can lay a hand on me.
…
Under Perturabo's command, the Chaos fleet tore through the Imperial lines with unstoppable momentum. Imperial defense forces suffered defeat after defeat.
But after the second void defensive line was breached, Imperial reinforcements began arriving in the Vigilant Star System one after another.
The first to arrive was Macragge's Honour.
Roboute Guilliman stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the Vengeful Spirit with eyes burning with righteous fury. Behind him stood the ceremonial guard under Sicarius, arrayed in perfect formation. Each wore deep-blue power armor adorned with golden aquila wings and laurel wreaths. Their expressions were solemn, eyes filled with unyielding resolve—ready to lay down their lives for their Primarch at any moment.
Next came Unyielding Truth, another massive Queen of Glory-class battleship, though its design was starkly different from Macragge's Honour. Its armor was thicker, its turrets more densely packed, and a colossal double-headed eagle adorned its prow.
Lion El'Jonson sat upon the throne on the bridge, saying nothing. Before him floated a real-time display of the entire Vigilant System. Red dots representing enemy forces clustered so thickly they covered the starfield. Yet his gaze remained fixed on a single point—the Vengeful Spirit and the five traitorous brothers it carried.
He whispered their names: Perturabo, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Magnus, and Lorgar.
His plan was to unleash upon them the fury of those who had failed to send proper aid to Terra ten thousand years ago.
Behind him stood the Dark Angels and the Angels of Absolution in silence. In the dim light, their eerie green power armor reflected the glow—they were once again ready to fight alongside their Primarch.
Finally, the Red Tear arrived. This Queen of Glory-class battleship possessed a more graceful design and longer hull. Golden patterns adorned its armor, and an angel with spread wings decorated its bow.
Sanguinius stood on the observation deck at the prow, gazing at the starlight streaming past. His wings fluttered gently; golden hair swayed as if touched by an unseen breeze. His face was calm, yet his eyes carried the weight of the Vengeful Spirit's presence. Memories of the past stirred sorrow in his chest.
In addition to the three Queen of Glory-class battleships, the Stone Fortress also arrived as reinforcement—a mobile fortress crafted by the Dark Angels, resembling a colossal metal planet over one hundred kilometers in diameter. Its surface was covered in turrets and hangars; countless fighters launched in preparation for battle.
The pride of the Imperial Fists, the Mountain Array, also arrived. This eternal fortress, scarred by the fires of war, still radiated terrifying light from its gun ports.
Dozens more star fortresses and Imperial warships followed.
Even after the three Primarchs arrived with their reinforcements, more continued to pour in—from Terra, from Macragge, from Baal, from every world connected by the Star Trail. Tasks that once took months or years to complete now finished in mere hours.
This was the significance of the Star Trail: it unified all reachable domains into a single cohesive whole. Even the Chaos Gods could not stop it, for the Star Trail did not pass through the Warp.
As Perturabo had predicted, overall command of the Imperial forces fell to Lion El'Jonson. Lion displayed his extraordinary tactical genius, rapidly reorganizing the Imperial fleet and bringing the Chaos armada to a stalemate.
…
Datch had supported the Iron Hands in annihilating the Death Guard and Plague Marines in the Dortria District.
[Mission rewards obtained: 1,200 EXP, 1,200 Points, +300 Reputation.]
He did not rush back to High Command to receive new orders. Instead, he took out Rick's teleport gun, set the destination to Medusa—the homeworld of the Iron Hands and the place where Ferrus Manus's skull was preserved.
During the massacre at the landing fields on Isstvan V, Ferrus Manus had been beheaded by Fulgrim. His headless body had been desecrated, dismembered, looted, and carried away as trophies by the traitors. In their desperation, the Iron Hands had only managed to recover fragments. Later, Vulkan had destroyed what remained of the body—because at the time the Iron Hands had not been in a good state. They had used forbidden technology to repair the damaged corpse, creating the illusion that the Primarch was still alive, even showing faint signs of decay. For the Iron Hands to accept the reality of Ferrus Manus's death and allow their brother to rest in peace, Vulkan had brought down his warhammer and destroyed the desecrated headless corpse. It had pulled the surviving Iron Hands back to reality and saved them from corruption.
Ferrus Manus's head had first been collected by Horus. After Horus's defeat, the skull was taken from Horus's collection by Rogal Dorn. During the Second Founding after the Horus Heresy, it was returned to the Iron Hands and brought back to their homeworld for safekeeping.
Datch stepped through the green teleport portal and entered the Iron Temple on Medusa.
The interior of the temple was magnificent, occupying a vast area. Enormous pillars supported the dome, each engraved with scenes of battle—the glorious deeds of generations of Iron Hands warriors, legends carved by their very lives. Various relics recovered by the Iron Hands were stored here.
Datch paid the relics no mind and walked straight to a high pedestal at the far end of the hall. A static force field rotated slowly upon the platform. At its center floated the head of Ferrus Manus.
Datch approached the platform, reached out, deactivated the electrostatic field, and let the head fall onto the surface. Then he retrieved the "Time Reversal Controller" from his game inventory and set it to reverse time. When he pressed the start button, a beam of light shot from the device and struck the head.
Flesh and blood erupted from the skull and rapidly spread outward, forming the outline of a body. Neck, shoulders, chest, and finally limbs took shape at incredible speed, creating a new body. The limbs that had once been scattered across the galaxy—collected and desecrated by traitors—turned to ash and vanished simultaneously.
As Datch moved, a terrifying storm was unleashed deep within the Warp. Two beings who sensed his actions were filled with rage and indignation.
Resurrecting Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman was one thing… but now even Ferrus Manus has returned!! We may break the rules, but why do you refuse to follow them?
Ferrus Manus, who had been transformed into the leader of the Cursed Legion, felt himself summoned by a terrifying force. His body turned into pure light, piercing the Immaterium, realspace, and the dome of the Iron Temple before vanishing into his new form.
Moments later, Ferrus Manus was fully resurrected.
He slowly opened his eyes—deep gray irises filled with confusion.
"Where… am I?" he rasped.
The door burst open. Steel Guard warriors, alerted by the alarm, charged in. They were the guardians of the Iron Temple, responsible for protecting its treasures.
"Intruder—quickly—!"
The lead warrior's shout died in his throat as he beheld the naked giant.
It was their Primarch—Ferrus Manus—resurrected.
For an instant they all thought it was a trick of Chaos. Ferrus Manus had died ten thousand years ago. But when they saw the Nameless One standing beside him, they discarded the thought. This was clearly the work of the Emperor's power.
(Emperor: Don't say that—I can't do this!!)
Before they could speak with their resurrected Primarch, Datch lifted the still-dazed Ferrus Manus and carried him into the Room of Necessity, then used the teleport gun to return to the Vigilant Planet.
"No… the Primarch."
"Give us back the Primarch!!"
The Iron Guard warriors shouted as they rushed forward. Their Primarch had been taken away in the blink of an eye. At least let them exchange a few words…
…
Vigilant Star – High Command.
Kardan Stronos had just returned from the Dortria District. His power armor still bore the bloodstains of the plague traitors; fatigue from prolonged battle was etched into his face. He entered the hall intending to report the situation to Bastian and Calgar.
At that moment, a green portal of light appeared from empty space. Datch emerged from the light cave and opened the Room of Necessity. Under the shocked gazes of Mortarion and other Dark Angels and Black Templars, they carried out the bewildered Ferrus Manus and placed him before Kardan.
"This is your family's Primarch."
Kardan was initially confused, but the moment he saw the giant's face, his eyes widened.
This… this was the resurrection of the Iron Hands' Primarch.
And you're not even giving me time to react? You're really going to see this through to the end?
"Ferrus Manus…" Kardan's lips trembled. "Lord Ferrus Manus…"
Ferrus Manus looked at Kardan with a puzzled expression.
"Who are you?"
Kardan dropped to one knee with a heavy thud. The Iron Hands warriors behind him followed suit.
"I am Kardan Stronos, Iron Father of the Iron Hands Chapter… Lord Ferrus Manus… you… you have finally returned…"
Everyone else in the hall was equally stunned.
…
…
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