Perturabo's eyes were fixed on the circular platform. The Iron Warriors beside him fell to necrotic beams.
But that was unimportant to him. His gaze was locked on the target: thirty constructs carrying grey containers towards an obsidian circular ship.
Data danced in Perturabo's mind: an abnormal number of constructs, the items being transferred, two Slaugth nearly his height, a giant Slaugth taller even than Nareth...
Everything was dissected, reduced to its most primitive form.
All became numbers, with no room for ambiguous variables.
Integers danced in his mind: victory was 1, defeat was 0.
War was an equation. As long as the sum was greater than zero, the cost was worth it.
Any number above that meant victory. He would win at any cost.
Perturabo reached his conclusion: the giant Slaugth was trying to escape, and it was 1.
If it escaped, the result was greater than 0. If he killed it, the result was 1.
Having concluded this, Perturabo immediately broke into a run.
His massive broadsword swung, sweeping aside constructs with brutal, simple cuts.
The sickening beams from the reaper constructs' metal tendrils hammered against his baroque breastplate.
Its plates were forged in Kolar Syakol's furnace, then handcrafted by Telavar's artisans, incorporating Naloda techniques to create its initial form.
It was finished by Perturabo's own hand, using technologies he had unearthed on Terra from Unification Wars-era warlords, and knowledge of the Dragon Realm gained on the Morningstar, finally inscribed with Olympian Ur-Phrygian script.
The armored giant rolled forward like a boulder down a mountain, leaving broken construct limbs in his wake.
Beyond the veil, in the Empyrean, Khorne on the Brass Throne watched Perturabo's valiant charge with interest.
In the Palace of Pleasure, amid its decadent sounds, Slaanesh idly shifted its gaze from the unartistic straight lines to the white figure, slower to start but swifter in motion.
Jaghatai, like a diving raptor, weaved between constructs, sweeping past their pale bodies gracefully.
His curved blade danced lightly, striking like lightning.
Each of his blows was equally powerful, severing bone-bladed arms, cutting through legs, crippling constructs or throwing them off balance.
Jaghatai was constantly in motion. He reached the circular platform faster than Perturabo.
The giant Slaugth raised its arm. One of its two guards moved to meet the white figure.
Jaghatai's cloak flew. He attacked first, his movements swift as thunder.
The Slaugth raised its necrotic scepter. Emerald energy swept, turning dust to drifting clouds.
A dull boom echoed across the wide circular platform. The curved blade flew from Jaghatai's hand.
He flicked his index finger against the ornate hilt. The blade spun, returning to his grasp.
Jaghatai laughed aloud. The feeling of going all-out was as exhilarating as galloping across the plains.
He lunged, twisting his body, his blade aiming for the Slaugth's abdomen.
The Slaugth twisted, leaning backward.
The dancing blade followed its prey. Worm-arms writhed. The necrotic scepter blocked the swift blade a moment before it touched the burial shroud.
As the Warhawk struck, the Lord of Iron stepped onto the platform.
The other Slaugth guard raised its necrotic scepter. Emerald light flared.
With a crack, a scorch mark appeared on Perturabo's armor.
Perturabo raised his custom-made plasma gun and pulled the trigger.
The Slaugth dodged, but the plasma shot still left a hole as wide as a Primarch's thigh in its body. Large clumps of blackened maggots crackled to the ground.
The Slaugth flattened, then, the moment it straightened, its damaged body reformed. It was before the Primarch, swinging its scepter at his legs.
Perturabo met it with his broadsword. The impact jarred his arm.
He gripped his sword tightly. His gauntlet smoked from the friction.
In the Empyrean, Khorne and Slaanesh simultaneously shifted their gazes from the duels they were watching to the black-armored, golden-winged figure.
Nareth spread his golden wings and dove towards the giant Slaugth.
It was the largest Slaugth he had ever seen.
As he viewed the battlefield, seeing two Slaugth engaged with Perturabo and Jaghatai, he thought to himself.
'Your bodyguards can rival Primarchs. I wonder how strong you are.'
'A thought crossed his mind: in the Third Rangdan War, Lion El'Jonson and Leman Russ had worked together. Their cooperation might not have been limited to the battlefield, but extended to the final duel.'
'In the original Dulan Campaign, after the duel between the Lion and the Wolf, the Dark Angels and Space Wolves would engage in cat-and-dog fights whenever they met.
'Only an enemy this powerful could force two such hostile Legions to fight together, two Primarchs to cooperate.'
The "Baron of Corruption," deep in thought, reached the Slaugth. Blue-white blade met necrotic scepter.
The deafening blast drowned out all else.
It swallowed the whipping of tendril blades, the roar of bolt guns, even the sounds of the other two Primarchs' battle.
The Slaugth King felt power equal to his own. Maggots writhed on its head. Its parasitic eye stared in shock at the being several times smaller than itself.
Since his elevation to "Baron of Corruption" and the awakening of his body's latent power, Nareth had never encountered an enemy whose sheer strength matched his own.
His golden wings beat. He rose into the air.
Nareth inverted, his golden wings spinning like a windmill.
In each second, he spun hundreds of times.
The "Baron of Corruption's" back and waist twisted. His muscles bulged. As his arm swung, living metal rapidly spread, covering his left arm.
The Burning One's golden flames and the Order's Hand's golden light intermingled, illuminating the underground like the direct glare of the sun.
The Slaugth gripped its scepter with both arms, its body expanding, meeting the golden storm.
BOOM!
The walls shook. The platform trembled violently.
The last group of constructs carrying grey containers stumbled into the obsidian ship.
The necrotic scepter flew from its grasp. Flames screamed, destroying its maggot-head.
Its parasitic eye swept the area. Its construct servants had completed their task.
It decided not to tangle further with this powerful black-armored warrior. It suddenly contracted, spreading like paper towards the ship.
'Hmm? Trying to run?'
Nareth's golden wings beat, chasing the rapidly spreading shadow into the ship.
He raised his hand. The Valhalla Sword held before his chest.
"Throw!"
The blade flew, pinning the burial shroud. The shrieking force field crushed a large mass of worms.
Worm-clusters spread like liquid. Nareth's right hand, in the air, took a green teardrop-shaped talisman from his belt and chanted in Dunnish.
"Silence!"
In the Empyrean.
Khorne's massive form slammed back onto the Brass Throne. His gaze immediately snapped to Perturabo.
Slaanesh twisted, its gaze jumping to another twisted mirror.
Inside the obsidian ship, Nareth was astonished to see the talisman, empowered by the Silent Cry, only froze the Slaugth for an instant.
He picked up five talismans between his fingers and flicked them rapidly.
Amidst a series of "Silence" commands,
the "Baron of Corruption's" psychic energy surged. Shreds of burial shroud and blackened maggots rose, intertwining, forming a large net of interwoven grey-black threads.
In the moment of silence, the grey-black net enveloped the worm-body clinging to the floor.
ZZZAAAP...
Necrotic slime spread. The net of 'ropes' broke.
The "Baron of Corruption" raised his arm and commanded: "Decree: 'Deprive' regeneration!"
"Decree: Deprive extension and contraction!"
The spreading maggots suddenly halted, then surged upright into humanoid form.
The "Baron of Corruption" channeled all his psychic energy into the Order's Hand. His arm thrust forward.
"Imprison!"
Layer after layer of viscous, almost solid, transparent liquid wrapped around the Slaugth.
The Bloody Chain on Nareth's right pinky glowed. The throbbing in his temples rapidly faded. He stared at the hug Slaugth trapped in amber.
'Indeed powerful. I used talismans from the Silent Cry, and the Burning One's power.'
'Without a doubt, I will use you as material when I advance to "Mentor of Disorder."'
He looked around the ship, thinking.
'He had clearly seen the battle was lost and was preparing to retreat. Otherwise, I wouldn't have won so easily.'
'Perhaps, with his two guards blocking, he might have escaped from the Lion and Russ otherwise.'
Nareth recalled that the Rangdan Xenocide had not completely eradicated the Rangdan.
Though no Cerabvores or Osseivores had been recorded since,
other races, including the Slaugth, persisted beyond Imperial sight, but in numbers too small to cause trouble.
In the Calixis Sector, a world rich in bizarre phenomena, the Slaugth had been gathering strength and building constructs for millennia.
But even after the Great Rift opened, they still lacked the strength to launch an offensive, nothing like the current threat.
Compared to extinction-level threats like the Tyrant Star, the Slaugth were merely a problem that could not be ignored.
'I wonder if he escaped and repopulated the Slaugth, or if some part of them had already fled to Calixis.'
As Nareth pondered, he picked up the Valhalla Sword and walked to a grey container.
The "Baron of Corruption" stole the concept, making it a power sword.
The blade fell. Blue light exploded.
'Hmm?' Nareth was slightly surprised. He dismissed the "Concepts Swap" and gently touched it.
Blue-white light scattered. A short crack sounded.
Nareth stared at the green stone within. It was like jade, marked with a strange eye, like a star's glint, exuding an air of unreality.
He immediately recognized it: Starlight Record Stone, the main ingredient for Sequence 6 "Scribe," the subsequent path of "Astrologer."
'Record stone. The Slaugth was trying to take it. Does it contain their knowledge?'
'Then, in the original timeline, the Lion and Russ probably let him escape. He fled to preserve his race's knowledge.'
'The Slaugth in Calixis were few in number, but their technology hadn't degraded.'
As Nareth mused, he turned and walked out.
Exiting the obsidian ship, he saw Perturabo, his armor dimmed, his broadsword mostly melted, and Jaghatai, his white armor tattered but his curved blade intact.
They had simultaneously hurled krak grenades into their severely wounded Slaugth.
With a blast, worms scattered.
Perturabo's ice-blue eyes flicked to Jaghatai, then to Nareth.
"The Slaugth?"
"I dealt with it."
Perturabo was silent. 'At least it wasn't Jaghatai.'
'Nareth, it should be so.'
Yisugei walked to Jaghatai's side. He looked at Nareth in shock. That evil xenos was undoubtedly the source of the evil will he had felt earlier.
It was stronger than the one the Great Khan had killed. That meant...
The Warhawk of Chogoris was no match for the Sovereign of Vostroya.
Jaghatai stared at Nareth for a moment, then said decisively.
"I am returning to Chogoris."
He had never liked attending Terra's pompous celebrations. Summoning his scattered sons to Chogoris to announce the new Legion's birth was more important. He had no intention of returning with Nareth and the others.
Anacharis Scoria's massive form shifted slightly, making way for Jaghatai Khan and his entourage.
He looked down regretfully. His strategium array's scanning module had only captured part of the data.
Nareth walked to Perturabo and said.
"This planet and the Ramillies-class Starfort are yours."
Nareth had planned this before the war. It was both a prize and a gift for Perturabo, and a potential refuge.
Nareth didn't know when he would be able to make a Primarch completely loyal. Perhaps Perturabo would still rebel.
Relationships do not completely determine allegiances. Horus and Sanguinius, Fulgrim and Manus, were examples.
Perturabo's relationship with the Emperor, his views on Horus and the Emperor, even the rebellion on Olympia would all influence his decisions.
By the time Nareth won him over, he might have no place left in the Imperium.
Nareth would not send him to the Eye of Terror, to be corroded by Chaos.
He needed another refuge. The Rangdan homeworld, beyond the Astronomican, was one such place.
He had several others in mind.
The Ramillies-class Starfort was a necessary investment.
Nareth wasn't concerned that, if he failed to win Perturabo over, Perturabo would use the Starfort against him.
Once deployed, a Ramillies-class Starfort could not be easily moved. Transit through the Warp was too difficult for such a massive structure.
Even if Perturabo fell to Chaos, he would not trust its power. He would rely on himself.
He certainly had the ability, but he wouldn't have time to complete such a project.
During the Great Crusade, the Emperor would not give him time for construction.
His inability to build was part of why he fell.
There wasn't enough time before the Heresy.
Afterwards, he couldn't show his face in the Imperium.
A Ramillies-class Starfort only had a service life of about three thousand years. After the Heresy, it would be even less of a concern.
Rangdan did have some strategic value. In his memory, the Dark Angels had established a base there.
But it was beyond the Astronomican, too costly to maintain.
He already had a Deathwatch Watch Fortress of greater strategic value.
Perturabo's ice-blue eyes gleamed. A smile involuntarily appeared on his face.
The xenos homeworld was a shining medal of honor.
The white ships of the Star Hunters departed first. Perturabo left a large garrison on Rangdan.
The combined fleet set course for Terra, to attend the victory celebrations.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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