As Perturabo had personally intended, the elderly Norscan shamans who were fortunate enough to be spared hurried back to their respective tribes. They spread the word of the Fourth Legion's sudden strike on Wodenheim.
Just as the Primarch had predicted, the news of their holy sanctuary being seized by enemy forces instantly threw the Norscan tribes into disarray.
They abandoned their current objectives, turning their collective fury toward Wodenheim. They vowed to annihilate the Fourth Legion forces led by Perturabo. This mass abandonment of their sieges allowed many Fourth Legion units, previously in dire straits, to be liberated from the brink of destruction.
This reaction was exactly what the Iron Tsar had anticipated. Perturabo had deliberately lured them into concentrating their entire military strength to besiege him—only then could he complete his grand design.
The temporary fortress established by the Fourth Legion at Wodenheim was now surrounded by an impenetrable mass of Norscan tribes returning from the front lines. Even more tribes arrived from distant regions, swearing to erase the Imperial forces occupying their sacred land.
"My Lord, the Norscans are growing in number. If your plan was to draw them away from their targets and force a decisive battle here, then you have succeeded."
"However, the greatest problem remains: how do we defeat them? Almost every Norscan on the planet is gathered here," Forrix said, his gaze fixed on the dark, swarming masses outside the walls. His voice was thick with worry as he looked at his genetic father.
"Hmph. You speak accurately, Forrix. This is all according to my design."
"I have learned that these barbarians value martial prowess above all else. Therefore, I do not need to exterminate every single one of them. I only need to defeat and humiliate their most powerful and elite warriors in front of their entire race. Then, I shall dismantle the gods they worship."
"They will come to fear and revere me, and I shall become their new King!"
Perturabo gave a cold snort as he explained his logic to his son. Forrix looked surprised and somewhat skeptical, but he remained silent.
Escorted by several Fourth Legion warriors, Perturabo stepped out of the fortress gates and stood before the vast Norscan host.
"I am Perturabo, High Tsar and Dictator of Kislev, Fourth Son of the Master of Mankind, Primarch of the Fourth Legion! I am the leader of the Imperial army that stands against you!"
"We have both grown weary of this protracted war. I propose we settle this in the traditional Norscan fashion: a duel of honor between the supreme leaders of both sides! The victor shall be King; the loser shall eat dust!"
Perturabo shouted to the gathered tribes in the Norscan tongue, a language he had mastered in just a few days.
Even to the tall Norscans, the Primarch's massive frame appeared god-like. Many felt a surge of hesitation, their courage wavering at the prospect of facing him.
Yet, the Norscans were a bloodthirsty and warlike race. Combined with the terms Perturabo offered, many tribal chieftains felt a spark of ambition. If one could defeat this demigod-like being, their prestige—and that of their tribe—would become legendary among all Norscans.
"If you lack the confidence to face me one-on-one, then come at me all at once! I grant that a collective victory over me shall be treated the same as an individual triumph!"
"What? Do you lack even the courage to swarm me? Are these the so-called warlike barbarians? If so, you are nothing but bullies who prey upon ordinary Imperial civilians!"
Seeing the Norscans hesitate, Perturabo used a goading tactic to provoke the chieftains, forcing them to step forward.
Sure enough, the finest and strongest warriors of the various Norscan tribes stepped out. Since Perturabo allowed them to attack as a group, they no longer hesitated and charged together.
The Norscans had no faith in a one-on-one duel, but they believed that by swarming him, they might find a sliver of a chance to overwhelm him through sheer exhaustion.
But the Norscans were wrong—catastrophically wrong. A Primarch is a demigod created by the Master of Mankind, not merely a warrior who is slightly taller than a mortal man.
To the horrified eyes of the onlookers, the most elite champions of every Norscan tribe were struck down by Perturabo in a single exchange.
For Perturabo, defeating these noble barbarian warriors was simpler than slaughtering a chicken. In truth, even if the entire Norscan host had charged him at once, the Iron Tsar had absolute confidence he could strike them all down.
"Now, is there anyone else who wishes to seek death?"
"I will say it here: even if you all charge me together, I have ten-tenths confidence that I will defeat every one of you!" Perturabo scanned the Norscans before him, his voice filled with arrogant certainty.
There were none. No Norscan possessed the courage to cross blades with Perturabo any longer. As they witnessed their greatest champions and chieftains being effortlessly toppled, the pride and courage of the Norscan race shattered in an instant.
One warrior dropped to a single knee in a gesture of submission. Like falling dominoes, the movement became unstoppable.
The Norscans in the field cast aside their weapons and followed the example of the first man. They were a warlike race, but also one that held absolute respect for the strong.
Perturabo had proven he was stronger than all of them combined. To be defeated by a being so much more powerful than oneself was not a source of shame for a Norscan; it was the law of nature—survival of the fittest.
"My Lord, we... we won? Just like that?"
Forrix watched the vast sea of Norscans kneeling before Perturabo, his expression one of pure shock.
"Yes, Forrix. We won."
"I am stronger than all of them combined. These barbarians believe implicitly in the order of the strong and the weak. Thus, they choose to submit to me, the superior power, without any burden of conscience."
Perturabo nodded slightly.
"Now, let us clean up the remnants of this mess. Then, it will be time to complete the reunion between father and sons."