This is the bonus chapter for reaching 800 Powerstones.
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[Wings of Freedom Regional Chat]
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "Here it is, here it is, here it is!!! The Blade of the Laer! The Perfect Sword! Slaanesh's precious baby!"
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "Holy crap, these visual effects, the lighting, the sheer aura..."
"No wonder it's something that can corrupt a Primarch!"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh heh heh... Fulgrim's eyes are practically popping out of his head!"
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "What's the quest progress at?"
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "62%! The moment he grabs that sword, it'll probably shoot past 80%!"
[Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe]: "All our hard work over the last twenty days is finally paying off!"
[All According to Plan]: "Cut the chatter and watch the show."
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[Light of the Emperor Regional Chat]
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood]: "Fuck, that sword... just looking at it feels wrong."
[I Eat Tomatoes]: "No shit, of course it does."
"It's literally Slaanesh's bait."
[For the Regent Yellow Guilliman]: "Inquisitor, is [Love Eating Grox Cans] and his crew ready?"
Vance quickly responded in the channel.
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "They just sent confirmation."
"All thirty-two energy pillars have been rigged with high-yield antimatter explosive charges."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "Total cost was six million Imperial Coins, which is a third of everything our faction earned in this entire campaign."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "Using the 50-kilometer regional channel communication net, the signal can instantly reach the zone of every single energy pillar."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "If the Emperor's Children Loyalists and Crimson Dawn fail to stop Fulgrim from taking the Blade of the Laer..."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "We detonate everything instantly."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "And then we fall back and evacuate."
[The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor]: "This is the absolute best we can do."
The channel was quiet for exactly one second.
And then, over a thousand gold IDs replied in unison—
"Understood."
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[Crimson Dawn Regional Chat]
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates]: "Bros, that sword... looking at it makes my skin crawl."
[Selling Cola at the Terra Palace Gates]: "No shit, it's an artifact of Slaanesh. Of course it makes your skin crawl."
"Even though they say becoming a follower grants ultimate sensory experiences..."
"It's way more likely you just turn into a Chaos Spawn."
[Dragon Bro Never Yields]: "Where's Paul? Why isn't he saying anything?"
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] stared at the silver-grey figure standing in front of the altar and sent a message in the channel...
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "We're out of options. Fulgrim's eyes are practically popping out of his head."
"I feel like just trying to talk him out of it isn't gonna cut it."
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Paul, what's the play?"
"Are we making a move soon? Do we snatch the sword or what?"
In the channel, all four hundred-plus IDs stopped chatting.
Everyone was waiting for that answer.
Paul stood by Vespasian's side, his Gorgon Terminator armor completely motionless in the eerie glow of the temple.
He stared at the sword on the altar, watching the bizarre light flowing across it.
Deep within his pupils, the five hidden stars were rotating at a frantic pace.
His voice rang out in the Crimson Dawn channel, terrifyingly calm...
"Nobody make a move."
"Just stay put and watch."
"I'll find a way to intervene."
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] was the first to react: "Understood."
[Selling Cola at the Terra Palace Gates]: "Understood."
[Dragon Bro Never Yields]: "Understood."
[Shinnosuke Eating Lemons]: "Understood."
Over four hundred IDs simultaneously replied with the exact same word.
Because they knew that the only one capable of facing Slaanesh head-on was Paul, their Champion.
As for them? Even if they were Astartes-tier players pushed to their absolute limits, in front of an entity of that level, they were nothing.
They couldn't even interact with a presence like that, let alone stop it.
Deep within Paul's pupils, the rotation speed of the five stars hit its absolute limit.
Wisdom trait.
His gaze pierced straight through the flowing light of the sword, straight past its flawless exterior...
And looked deep into the core of the blade.
There, sleeping soundly...
Was a Greater Daemon of Slaanesh.
Its body took on a bizarre form that blurred the lines between organic matter and mineral.
It was long and twisted, covered in a translucent carapace, beneath which flowed a pink-purple light.
Its face was caught somewhere between exquisite beauty and horrifying hideousness. Its eyes were closed, but its lips still held a faint, ambiguous smile.
Its entire being radiated an incredibly dense, nauseating aura of Chaos energy.
It was asleep.
But it was a sleep that could be broken at any given second.
Paul slowly withdrew his gaze.
His right hand squeezed tightly into a fist.
--
Fulgrim stood before the altar, staring at the sword.
He could feel the perfection housed within the blade...
An absolute, flawless perfection that transcended everything.
It was a feeling more moving than any masterpiece he had ever laid eyes on in Chemos.
More intoxicating than the glory and perfection he had chased across countless campaigns.
This sword was the very physical embodiment of perfection.
This sword was what he had been searching for all along.
He slowly raised his right hand, reaching out toward the blade.
But deep down, he felt a faint, lingering unease.
However, it was quickly swallowed up by the fanatical fervor rapidly spreading deep within his pupils.
He could feel the sword calling out to him.
It wasn't spoken words, and it wasn't a sound. It was a resonance that struck straight at the absolute core of his soul...
Come...
Take me...
You will attain true perfection...
You will surpass all the other Primarchs and become the Emperor's most perfect son...
You will end all wars and become the savior of the galaxy...
Fulgrim's breathing grew slightly ragged.
He slowly raised his right hand, reaching for the sword.
Right at that exact moment...
A silver-grey figure suddenly exploded forward, rushing to the altar ahead of him.
"Lord Fulgrim!"
Paul's voice was as hard as iron. "Please wait!"
Fulgrim looked at the silver-grey figure standing before him, his hand stopping in midair.
His violet eyes were now burning with an unnatural, feverish intensity.
"Gabriel?"
The First Captain of the Iron Hands.
The son of Ferrus.
"What is it?"
Fulgrim's voice was still gentle, but a distinct trace of annoyance had surfaced deep within his violet eyes.
Paul stood squarely between the Primarch and the altar.
He pointed a finger at the sword radiating its eerie light, his voice as hard and unyielding as iron.
"I smell something very wrong here."
"That sword... reeks of the Warp."
He looked straight into Fulgrim's eyes, which were already beginning to glow with an unnatural light.
"I suggest I take it outside first. Let the Mechanicus conduct a thorough, rigorous scan before handing it over to you."
Fulgrim's expression shifted slightly.
The smile on his flawless face slowly faded away.
"Gabriel."
His voice underwent a massive change, the coldness becoming incredibly obvious. "Are you questioning my judgment?"
Paul met those violet eyes without backing down an inch.
"I am fulfilling my duty as an Iron Hand."
His voice was calm. "Always suspect the gifts of your enemies."
"My father..."
"Who is your closest brother, the Primarch Ferrus Manus, once said..."
"The most dangerous thing on a battlefield isn't the enemy's blade."
"It's the spoils of war the enemy intentionally leaves behind."
Fulgrim's eyes narrowed slightly.
Paul pressed on, his tone loaded with unwavering conviction.
"I heard the legends of this sword the moment I arrived here."
"The legends say this Blade of the Laer is the perfect sword, a weapon capable of ending all wars."
"But why didn't a single Laer use this sword to end the war while we were slaughtering them?"
He paused, staring straight into Fulgrim's eyes.
"Think about it carefully, Lord Fulgrim."
Fulgrim's gaze flickered slightly.
In that split second, the fanatical greed seemed to diminish just a fraction.
He actually began to consider Gabriel's words.
Standing a short distance away, Vespasian and Tarvitz watched the scene unfold.
They felt a sudden, hot prickle behind their eyes.
Gabriel Santar...
A warrior of the Iron Hands, an allied commander they had only met once...
Actually dared to step up and try to talk their Father out of it at a time like this.
And more importantly...
Their Father was actually thinking about it?
A wave of warmth rushed through Vespasian's chest.
Regardless of Gabriel's motives, at this exact moment, he was doing exactly what Vespasian wanted to do but didn't have the courage to.
Vespasian's fists slowly clenched.
He silently swore to himself...
If they made it through today peacefully, he absolutely had to sit down and have a proper drink with the First Captain of the Iron Hands.
Right at that moment...
A voice rang out, carrying clearly into the ears of everyone present.
"Who knows?"
"Maybe these Laer just weren't perfect enough to wield a perfect sword capable of ending all wars..."
"If it were the Lord Primarch, maybe..."
Fulgrim's gaze changed violently.
That fanatical greed, which had just slightly dimmed, exploded in an instant...
Surging to an absolute, terrifying extreme.
Paul snapped his head around, looking toward the source of the voice.
Standing in the crowd was an entirely ordinary-looking soldier wearing an Imperial Auxilia uniform.
His face was completely forgettable, devoid of any distinguishing features.
But floating above his head...
Was a black ID.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]
A Chaos player.
Paul's pupils constricted slightly.
These Chaos faction bastards...
They actually dared to pull a stunt like this, at a time like this...
He was just about to speak...
When a purple silhouette exploded into motion.
The speed was absolute, so fast that the vast majority of people present could only catch a blurred afterimage.
Vespasian.
His power sword tore through the air the very instant it left its scabbard, the blade dancing with a lethal, icy gleam.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan] didn't even have time to react.
He only saw a flash of purple light.
And then, he felt his field of vision start to spin.
He saw a headless body standing in the crowd, a geyser of blood violently spraying from the stump of its neck.
The uniform that body was wearing looked awfully familiar.
He blinked.
The severed head tumbled twice in the air before hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
In the final second before his consciousness faded, he heard an ice-cold voice...
"Heretic."
Vespasian slid his sword back into its sheath with an elegant motion.
His gaze swept over the surrounding Imperial Auxilia as he coldly spat out a few words...
"To actually attempt to beguile my Father."
A dead silence fell over the surrounding crowd.
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