Chapter 75 - Beheading?
"Vulkan," Fulgrim whispered, his voice like the hiss of a serpent. "You truly are fascinating prey. An undying immortal? I have longed to test the limits of your 'immortality.'"
Vulkan did not reply. He simply raised his thunder hammer and advanced, step by measured step.
"Your flames are so... insignificant."
Fulgrim sneered, his serpentine tendrils suddenly lashing out with unnatural speed.
But Vulkan swung Dawnbringer, and fire erupted to repel the daemon-flesh. He accelerated suddenly, his hammer descending like a meteor toward the Phoenician.
Fulgrim dodged with inhuman grace, his daemon blade slashing downward to meet Dawnbringer in mid-strike.
The battle between Vulkan and Fulgrim was the clash of two primal forces.
Every swing of Vulkan's hammer brought eruptions of flame, igniting the very air itself.
He was the Salamanders made flesh, an immortal symbol of the inferno. His strength and endurance were legendary; every strike carried world-shattering power.
But Fulgrim was corruption given form, elegant, swift, and utterly lethal.
His movements were precise and beautiful, his daemon blade dancing through the air, tearing at Vulkan's armor and opening wounds across his flesh.
Vulkan roared, smashing aside one of Fulgrim's strikes with his massive hammer, then pivoted and struck again, sending the Phoenician flying several meters.
Fulgrim sprang back to his feet, strange ecstasy painted across his face.
"Good! Good! Good! This truly makes my blood sing."
He licked his lips, daemon blade leveled at Vulkan once more. "Pity. Your flames will eventually be extinguished."
The two clashed for what seemed like hundreds of exchanges. The other warriors on the battlefield had long since retreated, fearing to be caught in the catastrophic duel.
Vulkan gradually felt his strength ebbing. Though his immortal body was resilient, every one of Fulgrim's attacks carried the taint of Chaos, eroding his soul and flesh alike.
Just as Vulkan prepared to launch a final strike, Fulgrim closed the distance with shocking speed. Four daemon tendrils seized Vulkan's limbs, pinning him in place.
"Too slow, Vulkan," Fulgrim whispered, his blade raised high, shimmering with malevolent light.
The Blade of the Laer descended like lightning. Vulkan's head was severed in an instant, falling to the ground as blood fountained from the stump.
His body stood rigid for a heartbeat before collapsing, his flames extinguishing with him.
"Hahaha!" Fulgrim cackled, lifting Vulkan's head triumphantly. "This is the end of the immortal! This is the death of—"
His laughter died.
Vulkan's severed head suddenly began to radiate heat. Crimson cracks spread across its surface.
Moments later, the head erupted into flames and flew back to rejoin the fallen body.
Vulkan's corpse rose within the inferno. A new head reformed, his eyes burning with fury and unshakeable resolve.
"Chaos cannot kill the flame," he said, his voice low and steady as bedrock. "Immortality is not my pride—it is the Emperor's will made manifest."
Fulgrim stood frozen. He had never witnessed such a resurrection.
His arrogance cracked, replaced by flickering anger and, something else. Fear? He wielded his daemon blade and charged at Vulkan again.
Vulkan met him with renewed strength.
He no longer tried to match force with force. Instead, he exploited the gaps in Fulgrim's attacks, striking precisely at vulnerabilities with his thunder hammer.
Every blow brought an explosion of flame, scorching the Phoenician's daemon-forged armor.
Far from the battlefield, aboard Perturabo's command ship.
"Did you see that!" Perturabo gestured sharply at his neck. "One swing, and his head was gone."
Ferrus Manus felt a sudden chill above his own neck.
"How can this be?" Ferrus looked incredulous. "We are brothers. How could Fulgrim become so... deadly?"
He rose, intent on mobilizing the Iron Hands to support the Salamanders.
"Go by yourself if you want," Perturabo said flatly, not moving from his chair. "Don't drag me into it. I will wait here for Francis to return."
"You—!" Ferrus bit back his retort and strode toward the exit. "Fine!"
Because Francis had not returned after their extended wait, Perturabo and Ferrus had wandered the sector searching for him, and somehow ended up near Moqi Star.
They had witnessed the entire scene.
Back aboard his own flagship, Ferrus kept replaying the image of Fulgrim severing Vulkan's head with a single stroke.
Then Francis's warning echoed in his memory.
"Brother Six must have told you—I can prophesy! I saw in a dream that Fulgrim chopped off your head. It was truly tragic."
"And later, your body was even transformed into something strange. You were cloned, with your silver arms installed on the copies."
"Complete dismemberment! Truly tragic!"
The two images overlapped in his mind. Ferrus swallowed hard, then remembered the items Francis had given him, the helmet and the silver potion.
He couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.
He donned the helmet and drank the silver liquid in one motion.
Instantly, liquid metal spread across Ferrus's entire body. He struck his own thigh with his power sword, and sparks flew!
The blade's edge was chipped, but his leg bore no mark whatsoever.
Ferrus's eyes widened. It was as impervious as his necrodermatised hands!
When the completely silver Ferrus appeared before his Iron Hands, they erupted into frenzied cheers, their eyes bright with religious fervor.
"The Primarch has finally transcended flesh!"
"A pure silver Primarch! Perfection incarnate!"
"Primarch, who shall we kill?!"
The Iron Hands were ecstatic beyond measure. This was the ultimate evolution of a Primarch!
Ferrus briefly explained the situation on Moqi Star, and his sons roared their eagerness for battle.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
In moments, countless drop pods screamed from the flagship toward Moqi Star's surface—Ferrus Manus among them.
Back on Moqi Star's surface.
The Blade of the Laer plunged deep into Vulkan's chest. Chaos power erupted from the wound, tearing his body apart from within.
Vulkan roared, blood gushing from the mortal wound. His thunder hammer fell from weakened fingers.
Fulgrim shuddered with pleasure and kicked Vulkan's body aside.
"Good! So good! This feeling is... unbearable!"
But even as Fulgrim savored his victory, Vulkan's corpse suddenly ignited. The inferno consumed his broken form, and within seconds his body was whole again, even the cracks in his armor had vanished.
He rose once more, Dawnbringer in hand, glowing with molten radiance.
"The Emperor's will cannot be stopped by death," Vulkan said coldly, his gaze fixed on both Fulgrim and Lorgar. "And neither can I."
"Fascinating," Lorgar murmured, raising his crozius. A bolt of warp energy lanced toward Vulkan, piercing his chest.
Vulkan fell. And rose again moments later.
The cycle repeated. Every combined assault from the two fallen Primarchs could strike Vulkan down, but they could never truly kill him.
He was reborn from flame again and again, stubbornly fighting the traitors with unyielding determination.
Just as Vulkan's form was torn apart once more by the Blade of the Laer, a heavy thud echoed across the battlefield. The ground trembled, and a silver figure emerged from the dust cloud.
"Enough, Fulgrim." The voice was deep and cold as grinding steel.
Fulgrim turned. His lips curved into a smile. "My dear Ferrus... come and embrace the lord of excess. This feeling is truly... truly... ugh~"
Ferrus Manus stood sheathed entirely in shimmering silver, like a war god cast in living metal. His thunder hammer Forgebreaker gleamed with cold light, and every step radiated unshakeable authority.
"Fulgrim, you have betrayed everything we stood for." Ferrus's voice was heavy with grief and fury. "That you have fallen to such depths... You disappoint me beyond words."
"Look at yourself!" He clenched his silver fists. "How ugly you have become!"
Ferrus charged.
Thunder hammer and daemon blade clashed in mid-air, erupting in blinding light.
Every strike was like the collision of celestial bodies, shaking the entire battlefield.
Fulgrim's movements remained swift and graceful. His daemon blade carved impossible arcs through the air, seeking gaps in Ferrus's defense.
But Ferrus's silver form was impervious. Every attack was turned aside. His hammer, by contrast, carried primal strength and righteous fury, each blow driving Fulgrim back.
"You have fallen too far, Fulgrim," Ferrus roared, delivering a devastating strike to the Phoenician's shoulder that shattered part of his daemon armor. "But today, I will end you myself."
Fulgrim stumbled back several steps, then sneered. "End me? Ferrus, you understand nothing of true power."
Before he finished speaking, Fulgrim's daemon tendrils shot forward, wrapping around Ferrus's arms.
He raised his blade high, aiming straight for Ferrus's neck, the same killing blow that had claimed Vulkan.
The daemon blade struck Ferrus's silver neck.
It emitted a sharp, metallic screech, unable to penetrate even a fraction of an inch.
Fulgrim: "...What?"
Ferrus broke free from the tendrils' grip with sheer strength, raised Forgebreaker, and slammed it into Fulgrim's chest, sending him flying several meters.
"Useless!" Ferrus bellowed triumphantly. "This is the power of technology!"
Meanwhile, in the Second Empire.
Night Lords Primarch Konrad Curze continued his campaign of indiscriminate destruction. His latest target: the Sanguinary Guard themselves.
"Sanguinius!" Curze's voice echoed through the darkness. "Why did you choose to become the Emperor's slaves?"
"All of this, everything, is part of the False Emperor's grand design! You have all been deceived by him!"
[End of Chapter]