"For the Emperor! Fire! Exterminate the xenos!"
With immense effort, the officers of the Imperial Navy managed to break through the Skaven's orbital harassment, launching their remaining void-capable warships toward Holy Terra. Without the support of the Alpha Legion's formidable fleet or the bio-mechanical scrap-fleets of Clan Skryre, the deep-space Imperial Navy had become the final lifeline for the Imperium's survival.
As countless macro-cannon shells and lances of pure light descended, no amount of Skaven numbers could withstand such celestial fury. Simultaneously, Imperial reinforcements, having abandoned their own posts to safeguard the Throneworld, poured through the newly stabilized warp-routes. Thunderhawks and Drop Pods, shielded by the Navy's covering fire, began planetary insertions across the globe.
A single macro-cannon blast vaporized a sea of vermin and Verminherder daemons directly behind Skreech Verminking. This ignited the cold fury of the Skryre Verminherders. These daemonic rat-kin, who worshipped the Great Horned Rat's aspect of Malevolent Artifice and dark technology, immediately began frantically assembling massive Warp-Railgun batteries amidst the ruins.
Amidst a cacophony of hammers and chittering, the railguns rose from the earth, drawing greedily upon warpstone energy to hurl massive green orbs of power into the heavens. The effect was immediate, functioning much like coastal defense batteries punishing ships that strayed too close to the shoreline.
Yet, they could not break the suicidal resolve of the Imperial Navy. Though several frigates were struck, billowing black smoke and listing heavily, the fleet redoubled its efforts, focusing all batteries on the railgun emplacements.
Under the relentless bombardment, the Skaven morale finally shattered. Even the Verminherders could no longer suppress the primal, skittering fear of the common rat. In a frantic display of "every rat for himself," the vermin host dissolved into a disorganized rout.
Skreech Verminking was livid. If his grand debut ended in such a pathetic defeat, how could he face the Great Horned Rat?
However, Guilliman gave him no time for contemplation. Seeing the vermin break, the "Great Hamster of Ultramar" led his sons in a final, purging charge to cut down the fleeing xenos.
In his fury, Skreech unleashed his full power. The massive Verminlord blurred into a grey streak, hurtling toward Guilliman. The Primarch swung the Emperor's Sword, and the air erupted in a series of thunderous claps as Skreech struck dozens of times in a single second. Then, raising a claw, the Verminlord used a crushing psychic grip to hoist Guilliman into the air.
"Kughk—!" Guilliman hung suspended like a giant blue chick, struggling in vain as the Verminlord, his brow marked with the green inverted triangle of the Lord of Distortion, cackled at his helplessness.
"Release the Father!!"
Two Contemptor Dreadnoughts thundered toward Skreech Verminking, their twin-linked Ironhail heavy stubbers unleashing a storm of lead. But beneath Skreech's telekinetic shroud, the bullets slowed and dropped like harmless hailstones meters from his fur.
Skreech cast a contemptuous glance at the ancient warriors and exhaled a stream of corrosive bile. The Dreadnoughts were instantly dissolved into a foul-smelling slurry of slag and organic residue.
Turning back to Guilliman, Skreech hissed, "Primarch... you cannot hide-flee from Skreech Verminking's hunt! Be honored! You shall travel to the Realm of the Horned Rat... He, the Great Many-Tailed King, the Lord of Distortion, waits for your soul-spirit!"
Guilliman felt the systems of the Armour of Fate screaming in protest. A single flex of Skreech's will would crush the Regent of the Imperium into paste. The Verminlord basked in the intoxicating sensation of holding a demigod's fate in his claws.
Suddenly, a golden flash streaked across the field. Catching Skreech off guard, the Ardent Blade carved a deep furrow across the Verminlord's abdomen. The King of Rats shrieked in pain, his concentration breaking, and Guilliman fell to the ground.
The Primarch did not waste a second in gratitude. He lunged upward, the Emperor's Sword arcing toward Skreech's throat. The Verminlord, unable to dodge in time, manifested a Warp-Rattler Cannon directly from his chest-flesh and opened fire. The warp-bullets tore through the Armour of Fate, forcing Guilliman to cough up blood, but the Primarch roared through the pain and drove his blade deep into Skreech's chest.
Golden flames instantly engulfed the Verminlord. Skreech let out a harrowing, world-shaking scream as his essence was consumed by the holy fire.
"Begone, daemon!" Guilliman gasped. He knew the potency of his Father's blade; to be slain by the Emperor's Sword was to suffer true oblivion, a soul-death from which there was no return.
The Primarch collapsed to one knee, coughing blood as the Ultramarines swarmed around him, calling frantically for Apothecaries. The medics, knowing the lethal nature of warp-tainted projectiles, worked with desperate speed to extract the blasphemous rounds from their Father's body.
"Quite the struggle, little prince~" Celestine leaned on her blade nearby, her breath coming in ragged, metallic gasps. "The Emperor is pleased with you. I imagine that 'Great Horned Rat' is quite frustrated right now. A daemon of that caliber isn't exactly common stock."
"My thanks for the intervention, Living Saint," Guilliman replied, nodding curtly before turning away. He could see the warp-rot already blackening her form; the corruption was claimed her vessel. Soon, with a faint, knowing chuckle, Celestine collapsed amidst her weeping followers.
"No!! Mother Celestine!! I will follow you to the Golden Throne!!"
The Battle Sisters wailed with a fanaticism that made even the Astartes wince. Many Space Marines found themselves thinking: I will never, ever let these women join our Chapter.
Celestine reached out, stroking the cheek of a nearby Sister. "Oh, my children... you're actually quite cute when you cry. Since I have a moment... I suppose I could sign your cleavage. By the way... I really am a 36D..."
With that, Celestine lost consciousness, her body dissolving into a shower of golden light.
"Saint Celestine has spoken! 36D is holy! From this day forth, only sisters of the 36D may call her Mother Celestine!!"
"I need a breast augmentation immediately!!!"
"36D! 36D!!"
The grief was instantly replaced by an inexplicable, lunatical fervor. Chanting "36D," the Sororitas raised their chainswords and bolters, charging off to hunt down the remaining rats with renewed madness.
Guilliman watched the "lunatic women" depart, his face a mask of weary disbelief. He leaned in and whispered to his sons, "Celestine... she was lying. She is definitely not a 36D..."
Captain Mikael Fabian of the 3rd Company sighed, his brow furrowed. "Father, please... do not let those madwomen hear you. But... as your sons, we will stand by your assessment."
With Skreech Verminking "destroyed," the Verminherders were banished back to the Void, just as the Khornate host had been. The common Skaven continued their frantic retreat into any hole they could find. The grand offensive of Clan Verminus had failed, and with it, the Skaven's grip on the Sol System was broken.
On the Moon, Clan Moulder, who had been looting the gene-labs, immediately began a frantic withdrawal. On Mars, Clan Skryre, who had been stripping the Mechanicus vaults of every scrap of technology, followed suit. Even the hidden snipers of Clan Ratling, who had been picking off Imperial officers and Apothecaries with deadly precision, vanished into the shadows.
Treaties were forgotten. Every high-ranking Skaven was either fleeing or screaming at their rivals in the tunnels below.
…
"The board is set. The game was... interesting. But do not play it again," the Emperor said, standing up. He seemed particularly satisfied that the daemon forged from his sons' genetic echoes had been annihilated.
"Oh, Emperor... you know I never intended to go 'all-in' on the Sol System. I didn't even lift a finger personally, while you were constantly interfering," Lucius grinned. "Besides, don't worry about Skreech Verminking. He's perfectly fine."
Lucius raised a hand. Thousands of rats gathered, their chittering reaching a deafening pitch. Flesh and bone began to twist and fuse, reforming the towering body of Skreech Verminking before the Emperor's eyes.
"What? How is that possible?!" The Emperor was genuinely stunned. The Emperor's Sword carried the authority of the Dark King, the power of absolute Destruction and Death. To be struck by it was to be erased, even for a god.
"Goodbye, and don't let the door hit you," Lucius said, offering no further explanation as he escorted the "Cold Sun" out.
The Emperor did not yet realize that in the metaphysics of the Realm of Ruin, Destruction and Death were the Great Horned Rat's sovereign domains. As long as the Emperor refused his own final apotheosis, the Great Horned Rat would continue to siphon and subvert those very powers for himself.
"My deepest apologies, Great Horned One. Please forgive my failure," Skreech Verminking knelt before Lucius.
Lucius didn't bother with words; he simply cast the Verminlord back into the breeding-pits of the Realm of Ruin as penance.
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