With a roar that shook the plains themselves, Karthu'Zaal charged forward, his massive form moving through the blood-red sky. His daemon-forged chain axe screamed like a tortured soul, exuding an aura of murderous intent so potent it seemed to taint the air itself. His every step left the ground trembling beneath his weight. The Chaos Lord's crimson armor was a patchwork of jagged spikes and runes, each one glowing faintly with malevolent energy, as if alive and eager to feed on blood. His eyes burned with pure hatred for the Primarch standing in front of him.
Across the field, Caelion stood tall, his very presence a bulwark against the encroaching corruption. The air around him was crackling with restrained psychic energy. In his hands rested the Hammer of Truth, its head glowing softly with his psychic aura. Caelion's expression was calm, almost serene, but there was a fire in his eyes—a righteous fury that burned brighter than any warp-spawned flame.
This was no mere clash of warriors. This was an momentous confrontation, an echo of the eternal struggle between humanity and the Ruinous Powers—a battle not just for survival but for the future of the Imperium.
Karthu'Zaal's first strike fell like a meteor, descending with a force that could have shattered tank armor. The chain axe met Caelion's hammer in a thunderous collision that unleashed a shockwave so powerful it blasted away loose debris and sent nearby Guardsmen and Daemons flying. The ground beneath them collapsed into a deep crater as dust and rock flew into the air.
Caelion gritted his teeth as he absorbed the blow, feeling the strength behind it—a strength born not of mortal effort but of vile bargains made with the chaos gods. The impact spread through his arms and shoulders as though he had caught an orbital bombardment with his bare hands. Yet he did not yield. Not an inch. His boots dug into the fractured ground as he steadied himself, his psychic power rising through his veins.
"Is this all your gods can muster?" Caelion growled, his voice filled with contempt.
In response, Karthu'Zaal let out a laugh that sounded more beast than man. "You have strength, Primarch," he spat, his voice distorted by the echoes of daemons bound to his flesh. "But strength alone cannot save you. Your kind always falls—always fails! You will kneel before Chaos, as all things must."
Caelion's reply was swift. "I kneel to no one but the Emperor," he declared. His gaze locked onto Karthu'Zaal's hate-filled eyes. "Your faith in false gods will betray you—as it has betrayed countless others before you."
Without waiting for a retort, Caelion charged forward, moving as fast as a thunderbolt. He swung the Hammer of Truth in a broad arc, its head glowing bright. The Chaos Lord barely managed to parry; his chain axe shrieked as it absorbed blow after blow, its daemon-bound essence screeching in agony under the hammer's touch.
Each strike from Caelion was more than just physical—it was a psychic assault against Karthu'Zaal's very being. The hammer's power burned through the Chaos Lord's unholy aura. Wisps of blackened energy hissed and evaporated where the weapon connected, leaving behind faint traces of white light.
But Karthu'Zaal was no mere champion—he was a monster forged in the crucible of madness and war. With a roar that made even hardened Astartes flinch, he called upon the dark powers of the warp. The ground around him erupted into roaring warp flames—a storm of crimson fire laced with tendrils of shadowy energy that thrashed like serpents.
The tendrils lashed out toward Caelion with terrifying speed, their tips glowing with dark light as they sought to ensnare him. For any lesser being—it would have been death incarnate.
But Caelion was far beyond such sorcery. He spent 10,000 years growing his powers and harnessing his strength.
He raised his free hand, and his psychic presence moved outward in an explosion of raw power that rippled across the battlefield like a tidal wave. The warp flames disintegrated instantly, scattering in the surrounding area. For a brief moment, Caelion glowed brighter than ever before—his entire form bathed in a blinding aura reminiscent of ancient myths told about the Emperor himself.
"Foul sorcery will not save you," Caelion said as he advanced once more.
Seizing this momentum, he unsheathed Repentance—and wielded it alongside his hammer in a combination of speed and strength.
(Image Here)
Karthu'Zaal staggered under the assault. Each clash sent shards of corrupted armor flying into the air; each strike chipped away at both his defenses and his confidence. For all his rage-fueled strength, for all his dark blessings and forbidden gifts, he found himself driven back—step by agonizing step.
"You fight well for one doomed to fail," Karthu'Zaal snarled through his gritted teeth as he struggled to hold his ground.
"And you die well," Caelion countered, "for one who already lost their soul." His voice carried neither malice nor pity—only unshakable resolve.
Around them, the battle began to slow as friends and foe alike turned their attention to this titanic duel. Loyalists watched with awe and hope swelling in their hearts; traitors looked on with dread gnawing at their resolve.
Finally came the moment of reckoning.
Caelion feinted left—a subtle shift in weight that drew Karthu'Zaal off balance—before driving upward with all his might. The Hammer of Truth shattering Karthu'Zaal's chain axe into countless jagged shards that scattered across the ground.
Disarmed and desperate now, Karthu'Zaal stumbled back several paces before glaring at Caelion with wide-eyed fury. Blood dripped from his lips as he shouted: "How… How can you defy the power of the gods?"
"Because your gods are lies," Caelion replied. He sheathed Repentance, before gripping his hammer tightly in both hands. "And lies can never withstand the Hammer of Truth."
Channeling every ounce of psychic might within him, Caelion raised the hammer high above his head until it burned like a newborn star—blindingly bright and searingly hot. Then he brought it down with cataclysmic force directly upon Karthu'Zaal's chest.
The Chaos Lord screamed—a sound not just of pain but sheer existential terror—as his armor crumpled inward and shattered completely. His monstrous form disintegrated under waves of psychic power; his soul was torn apart piece by agonizing piece before vanishing into nothingness—a fitting end for one who had sold everything to darkness.
When silence fell upon the battlefield at last, all eyes turned to Caelion standing amidst the wreckage: unharmed from the fight.
"Victory!" he declared, the word ringing out like a beacon. "This is but the first step! Together we will cleanse this Imperium Nihilus! Together we will drive back Chaos—and restore our Emperor's dream!"
His warriors erupted into cheers so loud they drowned even lingering echoes of retreating traitor forces.
On this day hope returned—not just to Karthax—but across stars long shrouded by darkness of chaos.
With the Chaos lord dead, the remaining forces cleansed the entire planet of any lingering chaos presence. In the meantime, the XI Legion's old monasteries were reopened and Caelion wanted to reopen the planet's manufactories which had degraded over the past millennia. Luckily he had a few tech priests and other Mechanicus support.
One of the first tasks, coordinated with the utmost efficiency and a sense of tempo, was to re-establish planetary infrastructure. Teams of Skitarii and cybernetically enhanced laborers secured the critical power nodes, while in orbit, a ton of relief supplies descended for the inhabitants of the planet.
In every corner of Karthax, people emerged from bombed-out hives and the vast barrens, staring up in hope—or abject fear—at the banners bearing the XI Legion's sigil. The population had not seen a Space Marine, much less a Primarch since Caelion's disappearance. For those few who retained the oral histories in secret, it was as if the dead had walked back out of legend and into the brutal light of the present.
Within three weeks, the command centers were linked by a functional if primitive voxnet. In that time, Caelion never slept. He had a lot of work to do, and he didn't know what would happen the more time passed. Nothing was predictable when it came to the forces of chaos. They would appear at random times to fulfil whatever objectives they had.
After that were the trillions of lives spread across hundreds of not thousands of planets. He would have to unite the spread-out Imperium forces and build a massive army led by capable people that can win battles against the forces of chaos. Space Marines were the best at fighting these forces, but their numbers were too few to use them freely. There were also the other chapters that were present on this side of the rift.
These chapters if willing would bolster his forces and give him more fighting power. Once he did all of these things and made sure to return stability to this side of the rift, then he could venture into the rift and find out how to either fix it, or how to weaken the forces of chaos.
The planetary nobility that remained on the planet were brought to heel. Caelion had them lined up in front of him and had executed them personally for their mismanagement of the planet and corrupt deeds. He also found that the ancient houses that once ruled Karthax were gone, so he had no choice but to accept these new noble houses, but only if the next head of the house was not incompetent.
For this, he chose the youngest of the house to rule, putting them under his supervision as he raised them to be somewhat competent. After a few weeks, an estimate was made that roughly a hundred million people remained on Karthax. From what he was told, the planet has been declining for centuries resulting in numerous deaths caused by corruption, starvation, forced conscription, and the forces of chaos.
The ancient capital of the planet which is where the Fortress monastery was located was long abandoned and left to ruins. The amount of anger he felt when he found this out was immense, which is why the heads of the noble houses were killed.
And now that he was back, he was going to fix everything, restore it back to the Golden days.