Former Brothers
Pale flames burned silently.
The buzzing of Nurgle's flies vanished. The battlefield, moments ago alive with the maniacal laughter of Typhons' plague spirits, was now frozen in a deathly hush.
Before the gray ghost warriors, even the most chaotic of Nurgle's creations recoiled, cowering in the mud.
Typhons staggered backward.
For this battle-hardened First Company Commander, proud since the Great Crusade, this was humiliation incarnate.
His cloudy yellow eyes fixated on the towering, fiery figure before him:
Nathaniel Garrod.
The former Karas Typhon's once-hated, honor-bound comrade-in-arms. His nemesis from Istvan III—whose life Typhons had tried and failed to snuff out.
"This… this is an illusion!" Typhons croaked, his composure unraveling. His knuckles cracked from gripping the giant scythe.
"You… you're the vessel for that damned dried-up corpse!"
He spun toward Eileen, trembling, pointing at her with rotten, pulsating fingers.
"It's witchcraft! Psionic trickery! Nathaniel is dead! His bones rot on Terra! He… he can't be here!!"
Eileen said nothing, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead, still recovering from Typhons' last assault.
Her answer came in the form of heavy footsteps.
Thump.
Galo stepped forward. The aura of "Destruction," a power designed to oppose corruption, radiated outward.
Pustules on Typhons' body burst from the sheer oppressive force.
"Illusions cannot make your soul tremble, Karas," the tall figure intoned.
The voice, once deep and resonant, had become ethereal, cold, like echoes carried across distant shores.
"Your fear does not come from me. It comes from what you remember."
"You recognize us."
"That is why you retreated."
Typhons' massive form quivered violently. He glanced behind Galo.
Silent warriors, clad in ancient power armor, bereft of tentacles, pustules, and Nurgle symbols, stood at attention.
Ceramic-gray plate, crimson right shoulders and arms.
"Dusk Raiders…" Typhons hissed, teeth clenched.
Their name before the corruption, when they were the Emperor's loyal blade.
"You… you dead men!" He tried to muster arrogance, toxic fumes hissing from his armor. "What do you know?"
"You died like rats on Istvan! Ashes beneath Terra's walls! Losers!"
Typhons waved his arms, desperate, his words meant to overpower, but failing even to mask his fear.
"And I! I gave the Legion new life!"
"If I hadn't steered the fleet through the Warp, if I hadn't accepted the Father's gifts, the Legion would have perished! Coward Mortarion would have dragged everyone down!"
"I! Typhons! Gave them immortality!"
He gestured to the remaining Death Guard, still standing, still fanatical.
"Behold! Children of the Father! No fear! No pain! Immortal! I am their savior!!"
The words echoed across the silent battlefield.
But Galo only repeated coldly: "Immortal?"
Contempt dripped from his voice, pity and scorn for the rotting wretch.
He lifted the Sword of Liberty, pointing at a nearby Death Guard in Terminator armor. A gaping wound revealed intestines, writhing with Nurgle's infestation.
"You call this… 'salvation,' Karas?"
"They were once noble Astartes, warriors of humanity, Primarchs' sons…"
Galo shook his head. His white flames burned sorrow and rage alike.
"Now… nothing but walking flesh, crops of the warp, harvested endlessly. Brains buzzing with flies, veins flowing with excrement. Self erased."
"We kept our oath on Istvan. And you… betrayed it."
"Our bodies perished in fire, but our name remains. Twilight Raiders. Glory untouched, shining in Valhalla."
Galo stepped forward, pale flames surging. Typhons recoiled.
"And you, Karas… don't deserve a name. Just a rotting maggot."
"Shut up!!!"
Typhons erupted in hysterical rage, pus dripping from his grotesque, rotting face.
"I have power! I am the forerunner! Host of the Nest of Destruction!"
"I have divine grace! Power even Mortarion lacks!!"
Galo's lips curled with faint sarcasm. "Mortarion?"
Typhons froze.
His Achilles' heel struck.
"You've always believed you were strongest. That you should be Primarch… or ruler of the Legion."
"But the truth… Karas. You sold your father to demons. Did that make you stronger? Did it elevate you?"
Pathetic.
Galo's greatsword lowered slightly, flames dancing coldly.
"In Mortarion's eyes, you are a double traitor. Father betrayed, son betraying."
"In your vile god's eyes, you're a mere tool. Exploited to torment the Imperium."
"Your father doesn't trust you."
"Your god doesn't respect you."
"You are not a pioneer, Karas. Only a pawn."
"Enough—!!!"
Typhons lost every shred of sanity.
The swarm on his armor went berserk, sensing their master's unraveling.
"I don't need your preaching! No mercy from the dead!"
He raised his scythe toward Galo and the silent warriors.
"You dead men! Stay in your graves!"
"Since Nathaniel, you adore those broken oaths… I'll drag your souls to the Great Unclean One! Repent for eternity!!"
From the distance, Eileen watched, maintaining her summoning circle, sighing.
"Wow… this fatso's mental endurance is pathetic. Why does he rage so easily?"
[Hmph…] Old Huang's voice sneered in her mind.
[Traitors fear exposure above all. Their past deeds, their first betrayal, every secret… revealed before the loyal ones. Their ugliness laid bare.]
In the battlefield's center, Galo said nothing. He slowly raised the Sword of Liberty, flames intensifying.
He glanced at the gray-clad warriors behind him.
Brothers who fell on Istvan, shouting "For the Emperor!" in their final breaths.
"You have nothing more to say, traitorous brother."
He turned back to Typhons. Eyes cold. Deathly indifference.
"Now… let the sword deliver judgment."
Clang!
No commands.
Galo held his sword horizontally.
Behind him, dozens of Twilight Raiders slammed their left fists against their breastplates in unison.
Thump!
The sound like thunder, mingled with pus and corruption splattering to the ground.
Ancient battle cries erupted from their souls:
"For the Emperor!!"
"For the glory of the Fourteenth Legion!!!"
"Kill!! Kill them all!!"
Typhons could no longer endure.
He roared like a mad bull, black death clouds spewing from his exhaust pipes.
"Swarm of Destruction! Devour them!!"
The black tsunami of flies surged, and the remaining Death Guard charged forward.
The battlefield was set for the ultimate clash of former brothers.