"Blazkowicz, was it?" Solas shook his head with a bitter smile. "I thought I had deceived everyone."
"Who would have thought." Solas recalled how all his actions over the years had been under surveillance, yet a hint of gratification rose in his heart. "After just one meeting, he began to guard against me."
He pointed to the bust of the Emperor and said to Bul-Kathos: "Son of Doom, open it."
"Are you certain?" Bul-Kathos slightly raised the object in his hand, questioning the Primarch: "Your betrayal has failed. You should go before the Emperor to receive your punishment, but a scion of the Emperor deserves to die with dignity."
The opposing factions of the Second Legion now cast looks of gratitude toward Bul-Kathos.
As one of the Emperor's scions and the genetic father of the Second Legion, his end should be dignified; that was a right naturally enjoyed by the great. This dignity was unique, concerning how the Loyalists would survive within the Empire.
"Open it." Solas shook his head in refusal. The legionaries noticed that the Primarch's usually expressionless face bore many smiles today. "I do not care for dignity. As things stand, it is time for a clean break from the Empire and the Emperor."
"I hate the Emperor; everything I have done was for revenge. I may have failed the Legion and my sons, but I will never admit fault or kneel humiliatingly before the Emperor to beg for my life."
"Brother." Solas looked at Alpharius, revealing a smile of liberation. "Let me die standing. Prisons and survival at any cost do not belong to me."
When the Emperor forged the Primarchs, he shaped his scions into men of law to better lead mortals. But among the various extraordinary qualities of these great beings lay a pride unimaginable to mortals; a Primarch would not bow his head.
"Open it."
With another urge, Bul-Kathos placed the stone sculpture on the ground. The physical warhammer in his hand fell, and the disruption field shattered the stone.
Clatter—
As fine fragments crumbled away, a psychic malice radiated from the cracks. The Space Marines showed looks of disgust, while the mortals of the audit team fell into a trance.
A dark green figure suddenly rushed out, still attempting to flee and escape the heavy encirclement of the Space Marines.
Bul-Kathos's massive hand lunged out, snatching the xenos and crushing it in his grip, continuously applying pressure.
The Rangdan Overmind.
The Loyalists gripped their daggers tighter. The xenos was no longer important; the Primarch's betrayal of the Empire stemmed entirely from his hatred for the Master of Mankind. Without the Rangdan, the Primarch would have sought out another partner.
The Primarch's faction felt no regret either. The legionaries chose to remain loyal to their genetic father; they might hate the xenos, but they would not regret standing by their Primarch.
"It was hidden inside the statue; it truly deceived me."
As Alpharius spoke, he reached out to grab the collar of his power armor, tearing the upper ceramite plating like paper. "Subconsciously, I revere our Father, so I naturally thought having a statue was normal."
"But you hate Father; you would never keep the object of your hatred in your room."
"A mere trick." Solas shook his head with a smile and donned his helmet once more. He had to face his brother directly.
Signaling the Doom Slayer Marine to hand him a weapon, Alpharius's bones began to pop and crack. His Space Marine-sized frame began to swell before the eyes of the multitude.
With a three-meter shaft and a three-meter light blade, the polearm held in the Primarch's hand looked like a massive zanbato[1].
Everyone knew the battle of the Primarchs was about to begin!
Two scions of the Emperor would display their divine power. But the enemy was their own flesh and blood—
The Loyalists drew into formation. The First Captain waved away outside help; they would personally slay their fallen kin, washing away the Legion's shame with the tainted blood of their brothers.
Bul-Kathos led his brothers in retreat. Now that things had reached this point and the traitors and loyalists were identified, the internal purge of the Second Legion was inevitable.
The messenger group leaned against the walls, guarding the weapon racks and the audit team. The legionaries shook their heads, sighing at the tragedy of brothers slaughtering brothers.
Primarch against Primarch. Blood brother against blood brother.
A crime against the heavens—
The two Primarchs stepped into the pool of blood, circling one another. The Coiled Dragon staff flickered with thunder, while the dimensional light blade glowed with a calm blue light.
Solas thought for a moment and removed his helmet again. In a duel against his brother, the helmet and power armor had become encumbrances. Given a Primarch's physical constitution, power armor was often just a sealed suit; it provided little help in terms of strength enhancement.
Alpharius balanced his weapon with one hand, adjusting to its weight and characteristics, calculating how to defeat his brother.
"Eliminate them." The First Captain commanded the loyalists, launching another attack on the traitors, his voice raspy and uncontrollable.
After the anger faded, an irrepressible sorrow welled up. Even in betrayal, those men were blood brothers. Not long ago, they had walked side by side, discussing the Rangdan campaign with high spirits, envisioning light and glory, looking forward to the end of the Great Crusade.
The Space Marines collided. With no more anger or emotional venting, they were silent and cold, using their blades to correct their brothers' mistakes.
"Rest in peace." A blade pierced ceramite. A loyalist supported his brother's falling body; his grip on the blade was steady, but his eyes could not stop trembling.
A more violent clash erupted. The sonic booms drowned out the sorrow as the two Primarchs entered the fray.
Crack-boom! Primarch against Primarch—the world shook with every exchange!
The Coiled Dragon staff swung down with decomposing lightning, crushing the air and distorting space. The whistling sound was like a dragon's roar as the coiled dragon on the staff spat thunder.
The dimensional blade gave no ground. The blue light blade carved a half-moon, slashing directly toward the head of the staff. In an instant, shadows of lightning and light exploded, imprinting the silhouettes of countless warriors onto the walls.
The staff struck the ground, splashing blood and shattering the adamantium floor; the disruption field evaporated the blood into a crimson mist.
The blue blade grazed a cheek, severing a few strands of black hair and sending a spray of deep red blood flying.
The dimensional blade lopped off a section of the staff. Facing the Primarch, Solas found he could no longer perform a hit-and-run with his weapon.
He did not panic, quickly pulling the staff back to his waist. Using his waist as a fulcrum, he spun and swept the weapon, striking heavily toward his brother's flank.
Alpharius jerked the haft back, bracing it against his side to block the powerful blow with brute force!
BOOM!!!
An airwave swept out, and a shockwave erupted from where they fought, like a nuclear bomb creating a vacuum zone, forcing the surrounding blood to surge backward.
Alpharius parried the staff and swung the zanbato down. The blade of silence carved through the air, seeking to sever his brother's arm.
The sound of space tearing echoed. Solas twisted his body, not daring to take this sharp strike head-on. Against a dimensional rift, physical defense was meaningless.
He made an unexpected decision: he released his grip on the staff and, before his brother could recover his stance, lunged forward to close the distance.
Unable to match the lethality of the weapon, the Primarch abandoned it, launching into a close-quarters brawl.
Alpharius was even more decisive. He did not cling to his weapon; taking advantage of the downward momentum, he cast the weapon aside and proactively engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
"Your choice is a dangerous one."
As the two collided, Solas's advantage in reach immediately became apparent. His fist, carrying the force of ten thousand tons, struck toward Alpharius's head.
Alpharius said nothing. He raised his arms, using boxing defensive techniques to protect his head, allowing Solas's hammer-like fists to rain down.
Crack—
A clear sound of fracturing rang out. Under the repeated direct impact of the heavy punches, Alpharius's forearm bones shattered, and the outer muscle was hammered into a pulp.
Enduring the pain, he lowered his center of gravity and lunged forward with a powerful kick, wrapping his arms around Solas's broad waist.
"Hmph!"
A muffled grunt escaped the Primarch's mouth. His palms turned into claws, shredding the power armor's protection and digging deep into the waist plating.
Solas's expression changed wildly. He pressed his left hand against Alpharius's mountain-broad back, while his right arm quickly rose. His elbow joint, acting like a chisel, fell with the force of a macro-cannon bombardment.
One strike after another, the savage force was conducted through Alpharius's legs. The ground seemed to shudder, and even the warship appeared to wobble in the void.
The muscles of his back caved in, and his spine groaned in agony. Blood leaked from Alpharius's nose and mouth, yet the light in his eyes burned like a torch!
A sudden upheaval!
His arms snapped shut like a pair of giant hydraulic pincers, locking onto Solas's waist.
The waist is the foundation of power. The sudden constriction caught Solas off guard, causing a momentary lapse in his footing. That single moment of instability became the flaw that led to his defeat.
Alpharius exerted a burst of strength, gripping the power armor tightly. The power from his waist surged upward continuously; at this moment, he possessed the strength to shake the stars!
"AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!"
The Primarch let out a beast-like howl. Bleeding from his face and heavily injured, he hoisted his own brother.
Solas struggled frantically, but his god-like strength had no leverage. He could not break free from his brother's grip, and he watched helplessly as the floor rushed toward him.
Rumble—!
Like muffled thunder or a falling meteor, the Gloriana-class battleship shuddered violently from a heavy, agonizing impact.
The floor of the council chamber shattered, revealing the adamantium spine of the ship. The hardest metal in the physical universe was now dented by a massive crater.
Solas hit the ground head-first. Blood flowed from his orifices, his mind a chaotic mess, and the upper portion of his power armor crumbled away like rubble.
[1] Zabuza's Sword