Nareth leapt toward the golden mechanical eagle, determined to strike before the C'tan shard could fully break free and kill it.
The Primarch donned the Mask of War, landing on the golden eagle's back. The Sword of Vaul blazed with blue-white light as it hacked into the root of the right wing.
His power fist glowed gold, slamming down on the eagle's back.
"Insect!"
"Wretch!"
The golden eagle had not yet broken free of its restraints, but by bending physical laws, it made an explosive voice resound directly in the Primarch's mind.
The echoes pounded through his spirit, searing into his psyche.
Mind and spirit are bound to flesh; when Nareth's body was struck by this manipulation of physical law, his spirit inevitably reeled.
The hurricane-like soundwaves carried world-burning force.
The Primarch felt his body engulfed in flames.
Instantly, he ascended into the second layer of the Thelema mindstate, his physical energy transmuted into mental force.
Flames erupted along his spine as he stepped into Kundalini, his spiritual ocean quaking violently.
The C'tan shard's influence was banished from the non-physical plane, but its resonance still echoed inside Nareth's skull.
His head crackled as if firecrackers were exploding inside it.
But pain did not slow his strikes. His power fist hammered down like a storm of rain, and the Sword of Vaul cut in a whirlwind arc.
A thunderous blast ripped open the living metal, golden dissolution fields tore a great rent across the eagle's back.
The Sword carved another crack, its screech like tearing glass.
Nareth was just about to press the attack when a piercing screech rang out.
The golden eagle stirred. Its wings flapped violently, conjuring a tidal wave of scorching heat.
Its talons crushed the rock below as it kicked off.
With snapping cables and sparking Necron devices, the golden eagle lifted into the air.
At its throat, molten fire bulged, and then spewed out in a torrent.
All nearby machines were incinerated in an instant.
The eagle had broken its bonds. With a triumphant cry, it rose higher.
"Pull him into a dream!" Nareth shouted to Freddy.
The black wolf gazed up at the eagle, feeling annihilation radiating from its fire. He knew, even with a body surpassing the Fenrisian wolves, if that flame engulfed him, he would be reduced to ash.
To fight such a foe, he had to take on his mythic beast form.
From Freddy's abdomen sprouted two extra pairs of legs. Power surged, lifting his body, eight limbs tore through the sky, rippling the air itself.
Black mist rolled upward, eternal night swallowing the golden eagle.
A song of peace drifts softly...
...
A lullaby to soothe...
...
Lest we crush the slumbering cocoon of a butterfly,
Deep within the folds of eternal night,
All falls silent.
The C'tan shard faltered. Its fiery red eyes dimmed. The golden wings slowed, as if dragged down by unseen chains.
Nareth, fully anchored in the second layer of the Thelema state and already prepared, did not let up. His blows fell with unerring precision, each strike widening the wounds he had carved before.
The crack on its back grew, from fist-sized, to head-sized, to half a body's width.
The rent at the root of its right wing split wider, from palm-width, to forearm, to the breadth of a thigh.
But then, suddenly, a surge of golden and crimson flame erupted.
The black mist was vaporized instantly. Freddy's eight-legged form was charred black.
The wolf gave a mournful cry, collapsing, unable to maintain his mythic transformation.
Nareth's vision was filled with gold and flame. His body was engulfed.
The runes on his black armor shrieked, yet the Primarch did not slow his assault.
From the blood-red chain coiled around his right hand's little finger seeped power that cooled his burning flesh.
Wearing the War Mask, he unleashed a storm of precise, brutal attacks, his mind cold and calculating.
Now he was sure: this golden eagle was a fragment of Nyadra'zatha, The Burning One.
The fire that wreathed it was hotter than a star's core, the ultimate embodiment of flame in the physical universe.
The mountain peak exploded, stone reduced to ash.
The golden eagle soared higher. Nareth, wrapped in fire, never ceased his assault.
On Medusa, the people watched in awe as the sunless skies, shrouded in ash for millennia, flashed bright for a third time.
This time, unlike the two before, a "sun" burned openly in the heavens.
At the planet's surface, Ferrus Manus had just emerged from the ruins. He looked up with silver eyes.
He felt something within that blazing sphere. His eyes quivered and ran like liquid.
"The golden eagle!" Manus's voice was heavy as lead. In an instant, he thought of the Garuda.
The eagle's proportions were the same, only magnified. Its color was different.
But most of all, the inferno engulfing it. Nareth could sense it too. The flames were akin to the magma lakes, but far more violent.
"What?"
Santor gasped. "He found the Garuda's relic?"
"He did," Manus answered in a voice like metal dragging stone. "But in doing so, he has thrown himself into peril."
"That fire is more dangerous than the magma lake that slew Asirnoth. Even I may not have survived it. Escaping would leave me broken."
Manus recalled how he had once lured a ten-meter ancient machine-beast into the magma lake.
The creature had vanished in an instant, erased from existence.
"His armor will melt under that flame, no matter how finely crafted."
At the black mountain's peak, Alpharius spoke in shock.
"Nareth is in there?"
"Father, only you can save him."
The Emperor's golden eyes gleamed.
"Nareth has not yet fallen. I want to see how far he can go."
"The eagle has not regained its full power, and it is gravely wounded. If Nareth can slay it, he will gain immense strength. Perhaps greater even than Manus's Iron Hands."
The Emperor thought:
'The Void Dragon's shards number only a hundred, and each is stronger than most C'tans. Manus received but a fragment of that power. This shard… it's vast. Only slightly weaker than the Void Dragon fragment I subdued in my youth. If it recovers fully, Nareth will stand no chance. But wounded as it is, if he claims its might, I will give him the Dionysian Spear.'
The Emperor's golden gaze stayed fixed on the blazing sphere above.
His eyes narrowed. Nareth was hurt.
Half his hair was burned away. Flames clung to his flesh, scorching him to the bone.
Nareth knew he was close to his limits, dragged higher into the sky by the golden eagle.
To conceal his greatest secrets, he could not use his rings or other relics, only the blood-red chain's healing sustained him.
But with his armor already burned away by the fire, his strength waned even faster.
'I cannot retreat into the Kingdom of Disorder, that would expose my last and greatest trump card.'
.....
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