In the Arena, the bloody wheel battles continued. The Protector of the Space Wolves was already exhausted; his mighty body was covered in fine wounds, blood flowing like a stream, soaking the dark red sand beneath his feet even deeper. He clutched his heavy studded hammer tightly with both hands, his thick arm muscles trembling uncontrollably from overexertion, making it incredibly difficult to lift it again.
The World Eaters warrior opposite him, wielding two blades, clearly understood the art of torture. He was not in a hurry to deliver a fatal blow, but instead circled the stumbling Space Wolves warrior like a cat toying with its prey, his twin blades whistling menacingly. At times, he would feint, at others, he would add a shallow wound to the Protector's body, further draining his already depleted stamina and will.
The Space Wolves warrior's breathing was like a broken bellows, each inhale bringing forth flecks of blood, and the light in his eyes was gradually eroded by fatigue and despair. He attempted to counterattack, but his heavy steps and sluggish movements proved futile against the enemy's agile assaults.
Finally, after another strenuous block against a cleaving strike, the Space Wolves warrior staggered, unable to maintain his balance, and fell to one knee. The studded hammer that had accompanied him through countless battles clattered from his grasp, sinking deep into the viscous blood-sand.
He tried to reach for it, but his arms felt heavy, as if filled with lead.
It was in this moment of vulnerability!
The World Eaters warrior's eyes blazed with bloodlust, like a shark sensing blood, and he lunged forward! His twin blades transformed into two deadly crimson arcs!
"Ssshh! Ssshh! Ssshh!"
Three precise and vicious slashes struck the Space Wolves warrior's broad chest, instantly opening bone-deep wounds, and the crisp sound of breaking ribs was clearly audible!
The Space Wolves warrior let out a muffled groan, the immense force sending him toppling backward.
But the attack did not stop! The World Eaters warrior moved like lightning, instantly circling behind him, raising his twin blades again with a cruel sneer, and savagely hacking at his back!
"Crack!"
The sound of a snapping spine was bone-chilling.
The tenacious warrior from the icy world of Fenris finally could no longer hold on; his mighty body, like a felled giant tree, crashed forward, slamming heavily into the pool of blood and splashing a viscous wave of gore. He struggled to lift his head, looking in the direction of Dorian, who was suspended in mid-air, his lips moving as if to say something, but in the end, the defiant light in his eyes quickly dimmed, and he completely lost his life.
"Roar—!!!"
The victorious World Eaters warrior immediately raised his twin blades and let out a deep, conquering roar towards the blood-red sky, as if flaunting his trophy.
"No—!!!!"
Dorian, suspended in mid-air, let out a heart-wrenching roar, louder than thunder! The anger and sorrow contained within this roar were so intense that they momentarily drowned out the frenzied shouts of the countless blurred figures in the stands, and temporarily suppressed the excruciating pain of the butcher's nails in his mind!
He watched helplessly as his Deathwatch brother, who had fought by his side, was cruelly worn down and killed before him, while he could only remain pinned here like a helpless prisoner, unable to do anything!
Endless fury surged and burned through his veins like magma! He struggled wildly, his limbs and torso, impaled by spikes, emitting a grating sound from his violent movements, as if he would tear free from these illusory bonds in the next instant! He wanted to get down! He wanted to tear the damned World Eaters warrior below, and all the chaotic scum present, into pieces with his own hands!
However, no matter how fierce his rage, no matter how hard he struggled, the cold spikes piercing his body and the invisible binding force field, like the most unyielding laws, held him firmly in mid-air, unable to move. He could only watch, like a spectator nailed to a pillar of shame, forced to witness this most cruel torture, aimed at his loyalty and will.
Soon, the still-warm corpse of the Space Wolves warrior was roughly dragged away by two Bloodletters, leaving a long trail on the blood-sand.
Immediately after, the gate on the other side of the Arena opened again. A new figure was roughly pushed in by an unseen force, staggering a few steps before regaining his balance.
When Dorian recognized the figure, his heart almost stopped beating!
It was Gaius!
He, too, had been stripped of his deep blue artificer power armour, his torso bare, revealing his steel-forged, battle-hardened muscles, also covered in scars of all sizes, recording his countless campaigns. Clutched in his hand was his power sword, named "unyielding will"; the safety on its hilt was already pushed open, and the ethereal blue glow of its disassembler field was particularly dazzling in the blood-red environment.
Gaius's expression was one Dorian had never seen before; in his usually steady and calm eyes, a cold flame now burned, fixed on the World Eaters warrior in the center of the Arena who had just killed the Space Wolves warrior and was now licking blood from his blade.
"Gaius! Gaius! Wake up! It's a trap!" Dorian roared at Gaius below with all his might, trying to awaken his seemingly clouded senses, "Don't be fooled by him! Find a way out!"
However, no matter how loud his voice, no matter how urgent his emotions, Gaius below seemed completely deaf. All his attention was focused on the enemy before him, slowly adjusting his breathing, and adopting the standard sword-fighting stance of an Ultramarines warrior.
The next second, the newly victorious World Eaters warrior, full of momentum, let out a bloodthirsty roar, brandishing his twin blades, and charged at Gaius like an uncontrolled killing machine!
"No—!" Dorian let out an even more desperate and angry roar. He watched Gaius swing his power sword, engaging the World Eaters warrior in battle, sword light and blade shadows intertwining, erupting in a continuous clash of energy. Gaius's technique was clearly more refined, his footwork steady, his sword strikes sharp, several times almost piercing the opponent's vital points. But Dorian's heart was in his throat, because he knew this was still the beginning of an endless wheel battle! Even if Gaius could win this round, countless more awaited him! Until he, like the Space Wolves warrior, was slowly worn down to death!
The internal torment and struggle, like two giant hands, frantically tore at Dorian's soul. On one side was extreme worry for his comrades' safety and the pain of helplessness; on the other, an overwhelming hatred for Chaos, for Khorne's play with lives and trampling of loyalty!
Just then, a heavy, oppressive sound of footsteps echoed from the edge of the Arena, slowly approaching the base of the stake where Dorian was suspended.
Dorian abruptly looked down.
It was a warrior clad in ornate and exceptionally grotesque World Eaters power armour. His armour was a deep, dark blood-red, adorned with numerous twisted golden patterns, spikes, and pendants made of real skulls, exuding a strong aura of the blood god. The distinctive upward-pointing ornament on his helmet was particularly elaborate, like some demonic crown. But most striking was his left arm, which was not covered by power armour; the exposed arm muscles were corded, and the skin was an unnatural dark red, covered in twisted scars and blasphemous runes that seemed to grow naturally.
Dorian instantly recognized him—Karn! Khorne's chosen, the Captain of the World Eaters Legion's Eighth Company, who had once fought him in that brutal battle for the right to be chosen in the Arena of his mindscape!
However, Karn now was different from then. He stood there, silent, yet an even more terrifying, more magnificent will than before, as if containing the entire sea of blood and the Skull Throne, was fixed on Dorian through his eyes hidden beneath the helmet.
It was Khorne's will, directly descending and dominating Karn's body, using it to "converse" with Dorian.
Karn raised his head, his gaze, imbued with an endless will to slaughter, seemed to pierce Dorian's soul, and a low voice, as if a confluence of echoes from a billion battlefields, directly sounded, not in Dorian's mind, but reverberating throughout the Arena's space:
"Surrender... to me..."
"Embrace... true power... become... a true strong one!"
The voice carried a seductive power that spoke directly to the heart.
"I know... you yearn... to be strong... you yearn... for endless battle... and victory..."
"Come... break free from the shackles of false loyalty... surrender to me... I will let you... embrace the power to tear apart stars, to dominate life and death!"
"To hell with your power!" Dorian roared back at Karn below without a second thought, spittle almost spraying onto the other's helmet across the distance, "Dare you let me down! Untie me! I'll tear all you scum, every single one of you, to shreds! Kill you all!"
He would rather die in battle than ever surrender!
Karn was indifferent to Dorian's curses, merely shaking his head slowly, the gesture carrying a mixture of pity and cruelty, as if looking at a misguided child.
"Obsessed... and unrepentant..."
"Surrender... to me... and your brothers... may be spared..."
"Otherwise..." His voice suddenly grew colder, like the arctic wind, "you will only... watch them... one by one... fall here..."
"And you... powerless..."
This blatant threat, like the most venomous curse, struck Dorian in his weakest spot. He wasn't afraid of death, but he couldn't bear the torment of watching his comrades die horribly because he refused to yield.
With Karn's arrival, the scene in the towering stands surrounding the Arena also began to change. Numerous figures of World Eaters warriors, clad in blood-red power armour, clearly appeared in the previously blurred spectator seats! Like true spectators, they brandished their weapons, letting out deafening, unified war cries and shouts:
"Kill the son of guilliman!"
"Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
"Blood for the blood god!"
The ferocious roar, like tangible pressure, assaulted Gaius in the Arena and Dorian suspended in mid-air. The World Eaters warrior fiercely battling Gaius seemed to be empowered by this collective will, his attacks becoming even more frenzied, even more reckless!
Dorian watched Gaius below, who, despite the insane onslaught, still responded calmly, but whose situation was becoming increasingly dire. He listened to the bloodthirsty shouts around him, felt the butcher's nails hallucination once again faintly aching in his mind, and the torment in his heart, as if being roasted over a fire... Surrendering might buy his comrades temporary safety, but it would completely betray everything he protected.
Resisting, however, meant watching his brothers die in battle, enduring a torment a thousand times worse than death.
The trial prepared for him by the blood god was testing the limits of his soul in the most brutal way.
In the Arena, the concept of time had blurred. Gaius didn't know how long he had fought, or how many World Eaters warriors he had slain. Ten? Twenty? Perhaps more. Each battle was fierce and brief; he had to defeat his opponents in the most precise and efficient way, because for every one he eliminated, a new, fresh enemy would emerge from behind that hellish gate, seemingly without end.
His power sword, "unyielding will," still hummed, its ethereal blue discomposition field shimmering steadily. Purple and red blood mingled on its blade, dripping onto the dark red sand. But the arm holding the sword was beginning to ache, and his breathing was no longer as steady as it had been. His bare upper body was covered in fine beads of blood, mixed with splashed gore, trickling down the troughs of his muscles.
During a swift lunge, the sword tip aimed directly at the face of a World Eater opposite him, who wielded a chainsword. Kal's movement was slowed by an almost imperceptible instant due to fatigue. It was this very instant that his opponent keenly seized!
The World Eater sharply twisted his head in an extremely contorted posture, the chainsword grazing past his laurel wreath, sending up a shower of sparks. Simultaneously, the chainaxe in his other hand, roaring as it tore through the air, chopped down fiercely towards Kal's shoulder and neck!
Kal's pupils constricted. The Ultramarines' reaction speed allowed him to take a sudden step back and sideways at the eleventh hour!
"Rip—!"
Although he avoided a vital spot, the sharp teeth still tore open a ghastly, bone-deep wound from his left shoulder to his chest! Excruciating pain instantly flared, and blood immediately gushed out, staining his bronze skin.
Kal gritted his teeth, grunting, and enduring the intense pain. Instead of retreating, he took advantage of his opponent's missed attack and expended momentum, suddenly stepping forward! He brought his left hand, fingers together like a blade, and slammed his wrist hard into his opponent's axe-wielding wrist. At the same time, the hilt of his right hand's power sword shot out like a cannonball, striking precisely and fiercely at the center of his opponent's helmet-covered forehead!
"Thud!"
With a dull thud, the World Eater, clearly not expecting such a swift counterattack from Kal after being wounded, was left dizzy and staggered backward by the powerful blow.
An opportunity!
A cold glint flashed in Kal's eyes. Enduring the tearing pain from his left shoulder, he powerfully engaged his core, his body revolving like a whirlwind! The power sword in his hand traced a perfect ethereal blue arc, carrying all his will and remaining strength, as it swept horizontally!
"Swish—!"
The light of the discomposition field flashed and vanished.
The World Eater stood frozen in place. The next moment, starting from his arms, his entire upper body, along a smooth cutting line, slowly slid down, separating from his lower body, and crashing heavily onto the bloody sand. Purple blood and internal organs splattered out.
"Hoo… hoo…" Kal leaned on his sword, gasping for air, his chest heaving like a bellows. Veins bulged on his forehead, and blood flowed like a stream to the ground. A piercing pain shot through the wound on his left shoulder, and significant blood loss and continuous exertion made his vision blurry. His physical strength was nearing its limit.
"You wouldn't have this experience on Ultramar, would you?" From the stands, a World Eater let out a merciless, malicious jeer, drawing a wave of laughter and agreement from the surrounding crowd.
As if to confirm his words, or perhaps to deliver the final blow to Kal, the Arena gates opened once more. This time, out walked a World Eater wielding a massive meteor hammer! The hammerhead of the meteor hammer was covered in sharp metal spikes, connected by a heavy iron chain, which he casually dragged behind him, carving deep furrows in the sand.
The World Eater's scarlet eyes, like a viper locking onto its prey, fixed intently on Kal, who was barely able to stand. He was not in a hurry to attack, but rather, as if savoring the struggles of his prey before death, slowly circled Kal. An invisible pressure, like a massive stone, weighed on Kal's heart.
Suddenly, he moved! With a fierce flick of his arm, the heavy meteor hammer, accompanied by a piercing whistle as it cut through the air, shot directly at Kal's face like a venomous snake striking from its lair! Its speed far surpassed any previous opponent!
Kal's pupils constricted. Almost instinctively, he used his last reserves of strength to raise his power sword to block!
"Clang—!!!"
A deafening metallic crash exploded! The ethereal blue discomposition field violently clashed with the chaotic energy on the meteor hammer, erupting in blinding light. The immense impact tore Kal's hand open, and he stumbled uncontrollably backward for seven or eight steps before barely regaining his footing. His throat sweetened, and he nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
Just one blow had almost completely incapacitated him!
Watching Kal once again fall into a bitter struggle with a new, more powerful enemy, Dorian, suspended in mid-air, thrashed even more wildly! He roared like a furious beast trapped in a cage, his cries almost tearing apart this illusory space! The spikes piercing his body bent slightly under his ferocious strength, emitting a grating "creak" as if they would snap at any moment. However, the invisible binding force field remained stable, rendering all his efforts futile. He could only watch helplessly as Kal struggled on the brink of death, feeling the agony and powerlessness within him, as if he were being slowly dismembered.
In the real world, the Drathemiandas Forge World had become a living hell.
Ever since the trap at the Governor's Mansion was sprung, Khorne Daemons and the World Eaters Legion swept across the entire Hive City World like a breached crimson flood. Under the leadership of the Bloodthirster and the efficient slaughter of the World Eaters warriors, the industrial world's four main Hive Cities successively fell within less than two standard hours! Millions of civilians wailed and died under the daemons' blades and the chainswords of the Chaos Space Marines. Blood stained the streets, and skulls piled up into mountains.
Only the Shrine World, located in the center of the planet, was still desperately resisting, relying on its powerful bulwark of faith, the main forces of the Inquisition, the Battle Sisters of the local "Sacred Rose" convent, and the Skitarii of the Adeptus Mechanicus. They had erected a tottering final defense line, preventing Khorne's defilement from completely tainting this sacred land.
To stabilize the front, a warhound-class titan belonging to the Adeptus Mechanicus, like a mobile mountain range, finally stepped onto the battlefield! Each colossal footfall caused the earth to quake, and its mounted volcano cannons and vortex laser cannons spewed destructive torrents of energy, instantly vaporizing swathes of Bloodletters and Khorne Berzerkers into fundamental particles. Hellstorm missiles rained down like death, unleashing continuous explosions in the densest daemon concentrations!
The Titan's appearance temporarily injected a powerful shot of adrenaline into the precarious defense line, momentarily stalling the madly advancing daemon tide.
However, this brief respite did not last long.
Just as the Titan continuously unleashed its firepower, tearing daemons apart in droves, the Governor's Mansion at the top of the Hive City, the building already shrouded by a stasis field, suddenly exploded from within with an earth-shattering force!
It was no ordinary explosion, but as if some colossal entity, with its unparalleled strength, had forcibly burst through the entire building from the inside!
Bricks, metal, glass… scattered like toys! Smoke and dust rose into the sky!
Immediately after, a colossal, crimson figure, terrifying enough to make one's soul tremble, leaped out from the center of the explosion! It stood dozens of meters tall, its body covered in thick armor that seemed forged from flesh and brass. Its muscles were gnarled like twisted mountains, and the dense butcher's nails implanted in its head vibrated wildly, emitting a maddening hum. The enormous, fleshy wings on its back, made of bone and tattered membrane, suddenly unfurled, casting a shadow of death!
It was none other than the Daemon Primarch, Angron!
His scarlet eyes, burning with pure bloodlust, did not even glance at the battlefield below. Instead, they locked directly onto the warhound-class titan that was slaughtering daemons en masse! Completely dominated by the butcher's nails, his eyes held only destruction and slaughter; any powerful presence was a priority target for him to annihilate!
Angron's massive daemon body, with a ghostly agility utterly disproportionate to his size, rapidly climbed and leaped down the collapsing outer wall of the Hive City. Half of the Hive City's upper structures crumbled into ruins under his stomping and leverage!
In a mere few breaths, he traversed a great distance and, with a powerful leap, crashed heavily like a meteor onto the front armor of the warhound-class titan!
"Boom—!!!"
The terrifying impact even drowned out all the clamor of the battlefield! The Titan's thick frontal armor instantly caved in, forming a massive crater, and its entire colossal body shook violently!
The Titan's captain and internal crew had no time to react. Angron's massive chainaxe, "World Ender," wreathed in bloody energy, was already raised. With a terrifying will to tear everything apart, he brought it down fiercely onto the Titan's cockpit!
"Crunch—Boom!!!"
Like a hot knife through butter, the Titan's armor, reputed to withstand battleship main gun bombardments, was as fragile as paper before the Daemon Primarch's savage strength and his unholy weapon! The entire cockpit, along with its occupants, was instantly torn apart and crushed! Immediately after, Angron exerted immense force with both arms, literally ripping this massive war machine in half!
Amidst the exploding fireballs and flying metal shrapnel, Angron stood atop the Titan's wreckage, letting out a roar that echoed across the entire battlefield, proclaiming destruction and death! The pure fury and bloodlust contained within that roar even caused some weak-willed mortal soldiers to suffer immediate mental collapse, falling limp to the ground.
In orbit, Inquisitor Gorgen and Inquisitor Malka, who were constantly monitoring the battlefield, clearly saw the crimson behemoth that had torn apart the Titan on their observation screens. For the first time, their perpetually icy faces showed expressions bordering on horror.
"That is… Angron!" Gorgen's voice was dry with a hint of disbelief. "The Primarch of the Twelfth Legion… the Lord of the Red Sands… he, he actually appeared here!"
Inquisitor Malka's expression was equally grim: "A Daemon Primarch… things are far worse than we imagined! This is beyond the scope of what a regular Inquisition force can handle!"
The news of Angron's appearance, accompanied by top-priority distress signals, spread like wildfire, quickly returning to Terra and reaching the headquarters of the Grey Knights Chapter—the Grey Knights, specifically tasked with confronting Chaos and daemon threats. It also reached the ears of the Lord Regent, Roboute Guilliman, who was handling his busy state affairs.
The Grey Knights Chapter headquarters immediately responded. The Second and Third Brotherhoods, totaling one hundred and thirty Grey Knights, clad in silver Aegis Terminator armor and born for daemon hunting, had already assembled, ready at any moment to plunge into this sudden holy war against a Daemon Primarch.
As for Guilliman, the moment he received the news, a cold flame ignited in his glacial blue eyes. He remembered his brother, Lion El'Jonson, who had contacted him not long ago and was currently "interrogating" Konrad Curze. The Lord of the First Legion and his Dark Angels fleet were not far from Drathemiandas, which was engulfed in blood and fire.
A massive crisis, triggered by a Daemon Primarch, had already alarmed the highest levels of the Imperium's military. The storm was about to enter an even more violent collision.
Holy Terra, Grey Knights Chapter Headquarters.
In the solemn hall, the silver power armour reflected a cold, dim light. One hundred and thirty Grey Knight Terminators stood like statues, their armour inscribed with runes to ward off Chaos, their gazes beneath their helmets firm and pure, as if they had cast aside all mundane emotions. Two Grand Masters, clad in magnificent terminator armour and exuding unfathomable presence, stood at the front of the formation.
"In the name of the Emperor, by the oath of the Grey Knights Chapter," the leading Grand Master's voice was deep and archaic, as if it had been refined over countless ages, "the touch of Chaos has defiled Drathemiandas, and the blasphemous entity of a Daemon Primarch has manifested. We are commanded by the highest authority to go forth and purify."
There was no impassioned rallying cry, only a concise declaration of their mission.
"Depart immediately for Warp jump. Estimated arrival at the target area in three hours," another Grand Master added, his voice equally devoid of emotion, as if merely stating an established fact.
As the command was given, one hundred and thirty Grey Knight Terminators, with synchronized, heavy, and solemn steps, boarded their dedicated assault craft. They would traverse the raging tides of the Warp, heading straight for the world polluted by the blood god's power, to fulfill their inherent mission of banishing daemons.
At the Lord Regent's palace, Roboute Guilliman had just concluded an urgent communication with Chapter Master Calgar aboard the Macragge's Honour. Calgar had reported the grim news of Sanks Squad losing contact and their life signals vanishing, as well as the rapidly deteriorating battle situation on Drathemiandas—the confirmed appearance of Khorne daemons, the World Eaters Legion, and even the Daemon Primarch Angron.
Guilliman's marble-sculpted face was shrouded in a frosty expression. The loss of his loyal warriors pained him, and Angron's appearance signified that the situation was severe enough to threaten the stability of the entire sector. He had no time to wallow in anger or sorrow; he had to take the most effective action immediately.
He immediately connected an encrypted communication with Lion. Moments later, Lion El'Jonson's majestic face appeared on the screen.
"Lion," Guilliman's voice was direct and urgent, omitting all unnecessary pleasantries, "Drathemiandas is in critical condition. Angron has appeared."
Even the Lion King's sharp eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing that name.
"I need you, and your fleet, to proceed to Drathemiandas with the utmost speed," Guilliman continued, his tone brooking no argument, "Your mission is to intercept and banish Angron, to prevent him from causing further destruction."
He paused, his gaze seemingly piercing through the communication screen, seeing the shadow behind Lion: "Furthermore, isn't Konrad with you? Tell him, the time has come for the Eighth Legion to show its 'sincerity.' I need them to join the battle and purge those pawns of Chaos."
Guilliman's words were both a request to Lion and the first formal "test" for Koz and his legion.
Before Lion could respond, a cold voice, tinged with a hint of mockery, came from the shadows in the background of the communication:
"Heh… I won't disappoint you, Robert."
Konrad Curze's pale and gaunt figure slowly emerged like a ghost from the shadows behind Lion, the crimson light in his sunken eyes faintly flickering.
Lion glanced at Koz, not objecting to his unsolicited interjection. He turned to Guilliman and said in a deep voice: "I understand the situation. The Dark Angels fleet will immediately change course and perform a short-range Warp jump. We will arrive as quickly as possible."
The communication ended. Lion immediately returned to his flagship, the unyielding truth, and the vast First Legion fleet began to adjust its course, the cold engines spewing dazzling exhaust flames, preparing to tear through the veil of realspace for a dangerous short-range Warp jump, heading straight for Drathemiandas.
Meanwhile, on the cold and grand bridge of the nightfall, Konrad Curze stood before his shadowy throne. Below, all the Night Lords Warriors once again knelt on one knee, like a swarm of nocturnal bats awaiting their hunting command.
Koz's gaze swept over these sons who once walked in fear and darkness. His voice was not loud, yet it was like a cold dagger, clearly echoing throughout the bridge, carrying a chilling simplicity and murderous intent:
"Sons of the night, prepare… to slaughter our enemies."
There were no lengthy encouragements, no promises of glory, only the most direct and fundamental declaration of slaughter. And for the warriors of the Eighth Legion, this was precisely the most effective mobilization.
"Long live the night haunter!" A deafening roar instantly resounded through the bridge, filled with long-suppressed ferocity and a craving for battle.
The Night Lords Warriors quickly rose, surging like a black tide towards their respective battle stations. The massive nightfall and the accompanying Eighth Legion warships, sailing alongside the Dark Angels fleet, began to calibrate and charge all weapon arrays, a cold killing intent permeating the void. The warriors checked their Bolter, Lightning Claw, and jump packs, sharpening their blades. They would use the blood and wails of their enemies to demonstrate the Eighth Legion's determination and strength to return to the battlefield to the Empire's corrupt high command!
Sevatarion, the prince of crows, and Zso Sahaal, head of the Black Armour Guard, once again stood like the most loyal shadows behind Koz. They would follow their night haunter into this battlefield dominated by the blood god, whether it led to salvation or destruction.
In the corner of the bridge, Otani, the golden-haired but scarred Astropath girl protected by Sevatarion, and Koreni, the Aeldari dancer by Sahar's side, though unclear about what exactly happened, felt their tense nerves slightly relax upon seeing the formidable Dark Angels warriors in their dark green power armour depart, and the atmosphere no longer so oppressive.
On the Macragge's Honour, inside Gaius's cabin.
Kolesa was sitting by the bed, gently holding Eiras, listening to the little one's chattering stories about the Tech-Sergeants, a serene smile on her face. This brief moment of warmth was a rare comfort for her on this human warship.
However, this tranquility was shattered by an urgent broadcast with a highest priority alert. The content of the broadcast was like a cold dagger, instantly piercing through all her peace:
"…Repeat, urgent battle report. Sanks Squad, on a mission to Drathemiandas, has lost all contact; life sign signals have disappeared… A large-scale Chaos invasion has erupted on the industrial world of Drathemiandas, with confirmed presence of numerous Khorne daemons, Chaos Space Marines of the World Eaters Legion, and… the Daemon Primarch Angron…"
Every word in the broadcast struck Kolesa's heart like a heavy hammer.
Sanx losing contact… life signals disappearing… numerous daemons… Daemon Primarch… these words echoed wildly in her mind, finally converging into a terrifying truth she could not bear—Gaius, something had happened to him!
She felt as if all the blood in her body had instantly turned cold, an icy chill rushing from her feet to the top of her head. All her strength seemed to drain away, and the light in her beautiful purple eyes instantly dimmed. Her arms, holding Eiras, weakly loosened, and her delicate body swayed, falling straight backward, collapsing softly onto the bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, as if her soul had left her body.
"Kolesa sister? Kolesa sister! What's wrong?" Eiras was terrified by the sudden change. She anxiously shook Kolesa's arm, calling out in a tearful voice.
However, Kolesa seemed to hear nothing. Her world was left with only the cold phrase "life signals disappeared" from the broadcast, and Gaius's steady face constantly appearing in her mind. Immense fear and despair, like endless darkness, completely engulfed her.
Eiras's cries echoed in the cabin but could not awaken the consciousness that had already sunk into the abyss.
In the bloody Arena, the battle between Gaius and the World Eater wielding a meteor hammer had entered its most brutal attrition phase. The meteor hammer was powerful and heavy, each swing accompanied by a terrifying roar that tore through the air. Gaius dared not meet it head-on, relying only on his remaining agility and precise judgment to block or dodge.
"Clang—!"
Once again, the heavy meteor hammer slammed into Calgar's power sword. The ethereal blue disintegration field violently clashed with the chaotic energy contained within the hammerhead, erupting in dazzling sparks. The immense impact caused Calgar's arm to tremor violently, and he slid several meters backward uncontrollably, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the viscous blood-soaked sand. The wound on his left shoulder tore open again from the violent vibration, blood gushing out. His breathing grew heavier, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead.
The World Eater, clearly adept at this, was in no hurry. He simply wielded his meteor hammer like the most patient hunter, constantly forcing Calgar into energy-draining parries and dodges. His crimson eyes gleamed with cruel pleasure; he was waiting for the moment Calgar's stamina would be completely exhausted, revealing a fatal flaw.
Calgar gritted his teeth, cold sweat mixed with blood stinging his eyes. He knew he couldn't continue like this. He had to take a risk!
Just as the World Eater swung his meteor hammer again, bringing it down with immense force towards his face, a look of grim determination flashed in Calgar's eyes! Instead of retreating, he suddenly stepped forward, thrusting his power sword forward with all his might!
"Clang!!!"
An even more violent crash erupted! Calgar felt a sweetness in his throat, forcibly swallowing the rising blood. Using the recoil from this parry, he made a move that surprised everyone—he suddenly released his grip on the sword!
The power sword, "unyielding will," shimmering with an ethereal blue glow, shot like an arrow, hurled with full force at the World Eater's face!
This sudden change caught the World Eater off guard; he clearly hadn't expected Calgar to abandon his main weapon! He instinctively dodged to the side!
It was this less than one-second window of vulnerability!
Calgar pushed off with his feet, his body leaping forward like a leopard! His target was not the World Eater, but the heavy, serrated war hammer left by a fallen Space Wolves warrior, deeply embedded in the bloody sand nearby!
Just as the World Eater dodged the flying power sword and regained his balance, Calgar had already rushed to the war hammer, his large hand grasping the cold, rough hilt!
"Roar—!"
A long-suppressed battle cry burst from Calgar's throat! He twisted his waist with sudden force, every muscle in his body bulging, and he heaved the war hammer, which would have been impossibly heavy for a normal man, swinging it with all his anger, unyielding will, and remaining strength, like a thunder god wielding a war hammer, bringing it down fiercely on the World Eater, who had just turned around, a trace of bewilderment still on his face!
The World Eater only had time to raise his arm to try and block—
"Boom—!!!"
A sickening thud, a mix of bone splintering and metal twisting!
The heavy, serrated head of the war hammer struck the World Eater's head squarely! Like a hammer smashing a ripe watermelon, the World Eater's head, along with half of his shoulder, was instantly pulverized! Shattered metal and bone flew everywhere!
The headless corpse swayed, its meteor hammer clattering to the ground, then it fell backward heavily, splashing a wave of blood.
"Hoo... hoo... hoo..." Calgar leaned on the war hammer, gasping for breath, his chest heaving like a worn-out bellows. His vision blurred, and he almost fainted. This strike had drained almost his last ounce of strength. A tearing pain shot through the wound on his left shoulder, and the weakness from excessive blood loss surged over him like a tide.
He painstakingly walked to the side and picked up the power sword, its energy depleted. The ethereal blue disintegration field had extinguished, and the blade returned to its cold metallic feel, stained with mottled blood. He held up the power sword, and at the same time, hung the heavy war hammer on his waist. As long as he could still fight, he would never stop.
However, the cruelty of the Arena was far from over.
Almost as soon as he had steadied himself, the opposing gate, which seemed to connect to an endless hell, slowly opened again. A World Eater, covered in blood-red power armour and wielding a roaring chain-axe, stepped out with heavy, oppressive strides.
This World Eater was different from the other berserkers who only knew how to charge madly; his movements were steadier, his eyes colder, clearly an experienced officer. He swung the chain-axe, which had an immense killing range, creating a chilling hum, then took up an offensive stance, his gaze fixed on Calgar, who was still gasping for breath and barely standing, like a viper locking onto its prey.
"Your struggle ends here, son of guilliman," a cold and contemptuous voice came through his helmet's vox-caster. "Rest eternally in this blood god's Arena; it is your only destiny."
Calgar took a deep breath, forcibly suppressed the intense pain and weakness in his body, and straightened his back again. He raised the energy-depleted power sword, its tip slightly lowered, adopting the standard Ultramarines defensive stance. At the same time, one of his hands quietly rested on the hilt of the war hammer at his waist.
No words, only a determined gaze and an unspoken declaration of war.
The next moment, the World Eater officer moved! The chain-axe, with a roar that could tear everything apart, lunged like a venomous dragon emerging from its lair, striking directly at Calgar's heart!
A new, even more desperate battle began again.
Dorian, suspended in mid-air, watched Calgar unleash an astonishing will in desperation, eliminating the formidable enemy with the meteor hammer in a near-suicidal manner. Before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, he saw a more heavily armed and ferocious World Eater officer appear, launching a deadly attack on Calgar, who was already at his limit.
Watching Calgar, like a small boat in a storm, struggle to dodge and parry under the furious assault of the chain-axe, each time narrowly escaping death, Dorian felt his heart being squeezed by an invisible hand, almost suffocating!
The tempting and twisted whispers of the blood god echoed relentlessly in his mind, like a persistent disease, intertwining with the seemingly endless, excruciating headache from the butcher's nails hallucinations. As his rage intensified, it relentlessly eroded his mental defenses.
"Be angry... rage... watch your brother suffer... this helplessness... is the price of your false loyalty..."
"Embrace the rage... unleash it... you will gain the power to tear everything apart... save him... destroy them..."
Dorian desperately tried to control his emotions; he knew that the more he raged, the easier it would be to fall into the blood god's trap. He tried to recall his training on Ultramar, the times he fought alongside Calgar and Luna, the Chapter's tenets... However, every time he saw Calgar clumsily roll to evade the chain-axe's sweep, saw the cold blade narrowly graze his body, taking a piece of flesh with it, Dorian's forcibly suppressed rage erupted uncontrollably like a volcano! He wished he could immediately break free from these damned restraints, jump down, and tear that cursed World Eater scum limb from limb!
Under this dual torment of extreme anger and helpless pain, his consciousness began to blur. Dangerous thoughts uncontrollably flashed in his mind—
"What if... what if I yield... what if I say the words... will the blood god keep his promise... spare Calgar? Spare Luna?"
"My betrayal alone... in exchange for my brothers' survival... perhaps... it's worth it?"
The moment this thought appeared, it filled him with intense self-loathing and fear! Betray the Emperor? Betray Ultramar? Betray everything he had sworn to protect? No! Absolutely not!
"But... can I just watch them die? Watch Calgar be slowly exhausted to death? I... I can't do it!"
Loyalty and salvation, two equally powerful desires, fiercely clashed and tore at his insides, bringing a pain that surpassed even physical torment. He felt as if he were being repeatedly hammered on a red-hot anvil, his soul about to be crushed by this cruel choice.
He could only watch, watching Calgar's movements become slower, his flaws more numerous, his wounds constantly increasing under the World Eater officer's torrential assault... And he, pinned to this pillar of shame, could do nothing.
This agony of watching a comrade descend into the abyss of death, powerless to intervene, was the cruellest trial Khorne had prepared for him.
In the Arena, the bloody war of attrition continued. The World Eaters officer, wielding a chain-halberd, utilized the long-handled weapon's advantages to their fullest. The chain-halberd moved in his hands as if alive, sweeping wide, its blade tearing through the air with a terrifying hum, weaving a deadly net of death that kept Gaius firmly at a distance, preventing him from closing in.
Gaius, gripping the now unpowered power sword, maintained his calm gaze, but his physical condition was dire. The dizziness from excessive blood loss constantly assailed his will, and the sharp pain in his left shoulder clung like a maggot, every movement tugging at his nerves. He knew he couldn't last much longer; he had to take a risk, seeking an opportunity for a decisive strike.
He meticulously observed the opponent's attack rhythm, searching for that fleeting opening. Finally, after a powerful horizontal sweep from the World Eaters, just as the old force dissipated and a new one hadn't yet formed, a cold glint flashed in Gaius's eyes!
Now!
He suddenly pushed off with his feet, ignoring the tearing pain from his left shoulder, his body darting forward like an arrow from a bowstring! Simultaneously, the power sword in his hand shot out like a venomous snake, precisely parrying the retracting halberd shaft, its tip aimed directly at the throat covered by the blood-red armour!
This one strike, imbued with his last strength and will, was as fast as lightning!
However, just as the sword tip was about to touch the opponent's neck guard, a cruel arc formed on the World Eaters officer's lips, hidden beneath his helmet. He had long anticipated Gaius's cornered beast's counterattack!
His thick arm muscles suddenly bulged, and the heavy chain-halberd retracted and thrust with an unnatural agility! Striking after, but arriving first!
"Pfft—!"
The teeth-grinding sound of metal tearing through flesh rang out!
Gaius's forward charge abruptly froze. He looked down in disbelief, seeing the humming chain-halberd already piercing straight through the center of his chest! The sharp teeth spun wildly, shredding his internal organs, and a torrent of blood gushed from the wound front and back, instantly staining his bare upper body and the blood-soaked sand beneath his feet.
Excruciating pain, like a tsunami, overwhelmed all his senses.
But his unyielding will still made a counterattack in his final moments! His sword-wielding arm dropped limply, the power sword clattering to the ground. However, with his other hand, he used the last vestiges of his strength to violently pull out the heavy maul from behind his waist, and with a desperate resolve for mutual destruction, he slammed it fiercely towards the World Eaters's head!
"Bang!"
A dull thud! Despite the World Eaters's desperate dodge, the maul struck the World Eaters's shoulder guard squarely, its grotesque spikes and saw-teeth instantly denting and shattering the ornate shoulder plate! The World Eaters let out a pained grunt, his body swaying slightly.
But that was all.
As the chain-halberd plunged deeper and twisted, Gaius's remaining strength ebbed away like a tide. The light in his always steady and firm eyes quickly dimmed, and finally, his body went limp, collapsing forward, supported by the chain-halberd piercing his body, suspended in mid-air. Then, the World Eaters, like discarding trash, violently pulled out the blade and flung him away, where he landed heavily in a pool of blood, lifeless.
"Hahaha! Look! The Champion on the ground!" The World Eaters officer pulled out his chain-halberd, ignoring his shattered shoulder guard, and raised the weapon, covered in blood and gore, letting out a triumphant and insane roar at the blood-red sky, as if he had completed a great hunt.
"No—!!! Gaius—!!!"
Dorian, suspended in mid-air, let out a heart-wrenching roar, as if his soul was being ripped out! He watched helplessly as Gaius died so tragically before him, the halberd blade piercing his chest, as if it had simultaneously pierced his own heart!
Boundless rage, towering hatred, and bone-gnawing, soul-burning grief, at this moment, erupted like a volcano suppressed for ten thousand years! Reaching an unprecedented peak! He struggled frantically, the spikes piercing his body groaning under his violent strength, as if they would be snapped by his pure fury at any moment! Dark red blood seeped from his pierced wounds, but he was oblivious, his eyes fixed only on the pool of blood where Gaius had fallen, and the still-cackling World Eaters!
Gaius's body was roughly dragged away by two Bloodletters, leaving a stark crimson trail on the blood-soaked sand.
Next, another figure was pushed into the Arena. It was the Carcharodons warrior from the Deathwatch — the "head-taker". He, too, had been stripped of his power armour, revealing his lean, scarred body, like a deep-sea predator. His power claw-equipped arms were now his deadliest weapons.
The battle began again. This Carcharodons warrior displayed an extraordinary toughness and ruthlessness. He was like a tireless killing machine, using his indestructible power claws to tear apart and disembowel one charging World Eaters after another! His fighting style was vicious and efficient, without any wasted movements; every claw strike went straight for the vital points. He even, with sheer brute force, tore the World Eaters officer, armour and all, into two halves!
The pile of World Eaters bodies by the Arena grew larger, but they would soon "resurrect" under the blood god's power, rejoining the fight.
This was the ultimate test of will and endurance. After an unknown amount of time, and an unknown number of enemies slain, the Carcharodons warrior's movements finally began to slow, and a trace of fatigue inevitably crept into his cold eyes. He was like a beast trapped in a spider web; though still fierce, his struggling strength was slowly being depleted.
Finally, when simultaneously facing the encirclement of three World Eaters, he fought with all his might, tearing apart two of them, but the third World Eaters's war axe took the opportunity to plunge fiercely into his chest! Immediately after, two more war axes pierced his body from different angles!
The Carcharodons warrior's mighty body suddenly stiffened. He looked down at the blade tips piercing his chest, a final flicker of unwillingness in his cold eyes, and then, his body, forged like steel, crashed to the ground, splashing a wave of blood.
Another Astartes Brother had fallen.
Dorian felt that with each loyal warrior's fall, his own consciousness seemed to be peeled away and diluted a fraction, while the endless rage and pure killing intent from the blood god's domain surged into his soul even more fiercely, as if filling a void! His roars began to grow more savage, closer to a beast's howl, and the headaches from the suppressed butcher's nails hallucinations seemed to transform into a twisted "pleasure" amidst this pure rage!
When the next figure was pushed into the Arena, Dorian's soul, almost filled with rage and killing intent, once again erupted in an unprecedented roar, mixed with extreme heartache and fury!
It was Luna!
She, too, had been forcibly stripped of her Tech-Sergeant's power armour, revealing her relatively slender body, covered in mechanical interfaces and modification marks, compared to other Astartes. She walked barefoot on the sticky, wet red sand, soaked with the blood of her Astartes Brothers, her steps somewhat unsteady. She silently walked to where Gaius had fallen, bent down, and picked up the power sword "unyielding will", its energy depleted and stained with blood.
Luna was not skilled in close combat; her domain was machinery, logic, and ranged support. Holding this melee weapon, which was too heavy for her, and facing the World Eaters standing like a mountain, radiating insane killing intent, her situation was more perilous than anyone before her.
The World Eaters had clearly just "resurrected," and the butcher's nails in his head were at their most active, constantly vibrating and emitting a maddening hum. His eyes were murky and wild, drool uncontrollably flowing from the corners of his mouth; all reason had been replaced by an endless desire for slaughter. He stared fixedly at Luna, making guttural noises in his throat, as if looking at a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
"Roar—!!!"
He let out a meaningless roar, swinging his humming chainaxe, and charged at Luna like an out-of-control locomotive! Every step sent blood-soaked sand flying!
Luna's eyes narrowed; without hesitation, she immediately retreated to the side and back! She knew her strength was far inferior to her opponent's and she absolutely could not engage in a head-on confrontation. Relying on the Tech-Sergeant's unique precise calculations and reactions, she constantly dodged the wild swings of the chainaxe, occasionally parrying with her power sword only to deflect the direction of the attack. Each collision left her arms numb and the web of her hand split.
She was like a swallow weaving through a storm, narrowly escaping between the deadly axe blades, searching for a nearly nonexistent chance of survival.
"World Eaters! You cowards! Scum! Your opponent is me! Let her go! Come at me!!" Dorian roared deafeningly from mid-air. How he wished Luna below could hear him, how he wished those damned World Eaters would turn their target to him!
However, his roars were like a stone sinking into the sea, unable to penetrate the barrier of this blood god's domain. The people below could neither hear his voice nor see his tragic state, nailed to the pillar of shame.
He could only watch helplessly as Luna, under the furious assault, was like a flickering candle in a strong wind. Every dodge was fraught with danger, her slender figure seemingly on the verge of being completely swallowed by the terrifying chainaxe at any moment.
Watching Luna roll clumsily to avoid a fatal vertical chop, seeing the axe blade graze her back, tearing away a piece of clothing and skin, leaving a bloody wound... Watching her always calm face, slightly twisted by intense pain and extreme concentration... Dorian felt his soul being torn apart at that moment!
Anger, pain, powerlessness, and an overwhelming hatred for Chaos's manipulation of life and trampling of all things… all extreme emotions surged within him like boiling lava, crashing wildly and threatening to tear him apart!
He no longer struggled, no longer roared.
His eyes, bloodshot from extreme fury, slowly closed.
All the clamor—the shouts from the Arena, the clash of weapons, Luna's hurried gasps—seemed to recede in an instant.
His consciousness, like a giant stone sinking into the deep sea, continuously fell, penetrating the surface dyed red by rage, plummeting directly towards the deepest, most essential place—the depths of his soul.
There, the final choice would be made.
In the real universe, on the top level of the Drathemiandas Hive City, in the area that was once luxurious but was now thoroughly defiled by the power of the blood god, the temporal stasis field still acted like an invisible, distorted glass dome, separating the Governor's Mansion and its surrounding area from the outside world. Within this solidified space-time, nine Astartes Brothers—Ultramarines Gaius, Dorian, Luna, and the six members of Deathwatch's Second Kill Team—stood like nine statues covered in power armour, kneeling on one knee or maintaining combat stances, frozen in place, unmoving.
Their bodies were still here, but their consciousness had long been dragged into Khorne's carefully woven bloody illusion, fighting an endless, brutal battle on that plain constructed of anger and bones, aimed at destroying their will.
Not far away, beyond the boundary blurred by the temporal field, the din of battle was deafening. The iron defensive line formed by the Skitarii continuously retreated under the demon assault, laser gun beams clashed with demonic warp energy, erupting in dazzling light. The Sisters of Battle sang hymns, their Bolters and flamers spewing vengeful fire, engaging in a desperate struggle with roaring Bloodletters and Khornate Berserkers. Every second, loyal warriors fell, their blood staining the pristine plaza a crimson red.
And further afield, the colossal, nightmare-like figure—the Daemon Primarch Angron—was unleashing his fury in the most primal, most savage way. His massive demonic body tore and toppled the towering Hive City buildings as if they were toys. Each swing of his massive chainaxe, "world ender," sent bricks and metal fragments flying. The eternal pain brought by the butcher's nails drove him utterly mad; he even indiscriminately grabbed and tore apart World Eaters warriors who got too close and couldn't dodge in time, their flesh and shattered power armour raining down from the sky. The entire upper level of the Hive City was rapidly turning into a smoking, fiery ruin under his rampage.
Dorian's consciousness, after endless falling and chaos, finally touched "rock bottom."
He didn't know how much time had passed; it felt like an instant, yet also an eternity. He slowly "regained" his senses; a strange tranquility replaced the previous frenzy and clamor.
What first entered his "sight" was not the bloody Arena, but a long-sealed yet incredibly clear fragment of memory.
He saw the lower levels of a dirty, crowded Hive City, where the air was thick with stench and violence. Massive pipes, like twisted intestines, filled his vision, and dim lights flickered in the thick smoke. This was the starting point of his memory, his homeworld—Skull-Crushing Star, within the Catonia system. A planet notorious for lawlessness, rampant gangs, and widespread crime.
He was an orphan. From the moment he could remember, he didn't know who his parents were or what they looked like. Survival was the only instinct etched into his bones. He was like a rat scavenging in a garbage heap; for half a piece of moldy bread, he would fight beasts much larger than himself, or risk his life against ferocious space pirates. Hunger and death were his closest "companions" in childhood.
The scene shifted, and he saw the origin of his name. On a filthy street corner of the Hive City, there was a cheap, hard, black bread that could knock out a wild dog, and its brand was "Dorian." That was the only food he could steal at the time, or occasionally snatch from other street children with sheer brute force. As for his surname? "Catonia" was his everything, the world he was born into, the hell where he struggled to survive. Thus, Dorian became his name—a name derived from the most humble need for survival.
In an instant, the memory skipped. He saw himself as a teenager, his height already close to two meters, with a broad frame and muscles like stacked rocks. He stood in a chaotic, noisy underground Arena, filled with the stench of sweat, blood, and mad shouts. His opponents were notorious gang enforcers, wielding crude weapons. He, however, was bare-handed, or at most, had picked up a rusty iron pipe.
Why fight? Not for glory, not for money, but merely for the scraps of food the Arena owner would condescendingly throw his way after a victory, just enough to keep him alive through the night. He was like a cornered beast, using the most primal, most violent methods to beat down seemingly invincible opponents, unleashing his anger at this cruel world with roars and fists.
He also remembered that when desperate space pirates raided the Hive City en masse, he, like everyone else, could only tremble and hide deep within the foulest, dirtiest pipes, covering his mouth and nose, not daring to make a sound, listening to the screams, explosions, and arrogant laughter of the pirates from outside, feeling the bone-deep powerlessness and fear.
Such an environment, day after day, year after year, forged him like the cruelest of furnaces. It gave him a physique far exceeding that of an ordinary person, and the courage to strike at any enemy, but it also branded his irritable and volatile temper deep into his soul. Even later, when he was fortunate enough to be discovered by an Ultramarines recruiting officer and taken away from that hell, and even after decades of Astartes Brother training, Imperial indoctrination, and the crucible of war, this easily ignited rage, born of his survival instinct, still lurked in his heart, becoming a part of his strength, and also a demon he constantly had to fight.
The scene shifted again, and the light became bright and hopeful. He saw himself, after layers of selection, successfully undergoing gene-seed implantation surgery, the pain of rebirth and the new life it brought. He saw the unprecedented pride and sense of belonging that surged within him the first time he donned the deep blue power armour, a symbol of honor and responsibility. He saw himself and other new recruits, nervous and excited, standing in a magnificent hall, being inspected by Chapter Master Marius Calgar. He saw himself on the training grounds, sweating alongside his brothers in blue power armour, honing their skills together. He saw himself on the battlefield, fighting side-by-side with Gaius, Luna, Golden, and other comrades, their blue figures like an indestructible bulwark, facing countless enemies for Ultramar, for the Emperor… These memories, like clear spring water, washed over his soul, which had been almost blinded by rage and murderous intent. The extreme anger and pain from witnessing his brothers' tragic deaths in the Arena still existed, but they were no longer uncontrolled wildfires attempting to consume everything; instead, they were enveloped and channeled by these warm, steadfast memories.
He remembered who he was.
He was no longer the orphan struggling for half a piece of bread in the underbelly of Skull-Crushing Star.
He was Dorian, the Emperor's Angel of Death, a warrior of the First Company of the Ultramarines Chapter, a member of Sanks Squad, and the brother of Gaius and Luna!
His volatility, his short temper, were weaknesses he needed to overcome, but they were absolutely not an excuse for him to betray his oath or succumb to Chaos!
Ultramar gave him new life, the Chapter gave him honor and belonging, and his brothers gave him trust and bonds. These were billions of times more precious than the blood god's hollow "power," built upon slaughter and destruction!
An unprecedented clarity, like sunlight breaking through dark clouds, instantly illuminated every corner of his soul. The headache stemming from the butcher's nails' illusion, the blood god's incessant whispers, at this moment, seemed distant and insignificant.
He violently "opened" his soul's eyes.
Looking around, he was still on that plain made of anger and bones; the clamor of the distant Arena and his brothers' bitter struggle seemed to continue. But now, his heart was incredibly calm, incredibly resolute.
He slowly raised his head; although his soul-body was still bound in mid-air by an unseen force, his will, like a drawn sword, pointed directly at the blood-red sky of this illusion.
A voice, not a roar, but directly from the deepest part of his soul, like an oath, clearly echoed in this domain of his inner self:
"I… am Dorian… "
"A warrior of the Emperor… a guardian of Ultramar… "
"Brother to Gaius, Golden, Draculas, and Luna… "
"I may be short-tempered… I may be volatile… "
"But my loyalty… will never waver!"
"Demon! Put away your tricks!"
"I would rather die here… fighting alongside my brothers… than ever… kneel before you!"
This oath was not an angry shout, but the most resolute choice made after enduring hardship and recognizing his true self. It signified that the blood god's attempt to dismantle his will through torment and temptation had utterly failed.
Dorian chose loyalty, even unto destruction.