A deafening roar erupted from the point of impact, as if two asteroids had collided.
A visible shockwave exploded in a ring, instantly flinging everything within dozens of meters into the air. Shattered rock, twisted metal, and the unfortunate soldiers caught in the blast, friend and foe alike, were torn asunder in mid-flight by the berserk energy.
The solid ground of the Imperial Palace fractured, a web of deep cracks spreading out from the center of the clash.
The ground beneath Vulkan's feet gave way, and his massive body lurched as he bent his knees, bracing himself to absorb the mountain-shattering impact from Angron's blow.
The stone beneath his feet crumbled to dust. Vulkan gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his brow as he felt the terrifying force travel up the haft of his hammer. It was a force infused with endless agony, madness, and the unholy boons of Khorne's own realm. This opponent was far more terrifying than he had anticipated. Though the exchange had seemed equal, he knew he had come off worse.
Across from him, Angron let out a bloodthirsty grin and charged once more, swinging his twin axes. His assault was a relentless storm, but Vulkan refused to be outdone and raised his own weapon to meet it.
One chainaxe shrieked as it tore through the air, aimed for Vulkan's midsection. At the same time, Angron's fanged maw gaped open, unleashing a searing blast of Chaos breath that stank of sulfur and blood.
Vulkan roared, his body displaying astonishing resilience under the extreme pressure. With a masterful flick of his wrist, his heavy warhammer, Dawnbreaker, spun in a precise arc. The haft of the weapon intercepted the sweeping chainaxe with pinpoint accuracy.
The shriek of metal on metal was deafening, and the grating sound of the high-speed chain-teeth against the adamantium haft set one's teeth on edge. At the same moment, Vulkan wrenched his head aside.
The Chaos breath roared past his helmet, striking a small statue behind him and instantly corroding it into a bubbling puddle of slime.
"Angron!" Vulkan bellowed in a brief lull, "I will end you here."
His only reply was Angron's more savage roar and an even more ferocious attack.
The daemon had forsaken all defense, his twin axes becoming a crimson storm of pure, primal destruction. Each swing of the bloody chainaxes tore through the air with a piercing scream, seeking to cleave Vulkan in two, along with the very ground he stood upon.
Vulkan was forced completely onto the defensive. He wielded Dawnbreaker to weave an impenetrable shield of hammer blows.
In his hands, the massive power hammer moved with the grace of a light staff, precisely blocking, deflecting, and parrying each of Angron's lethal strikes. The runes on the hammer's head glowed ever brighter, erupting with a pulse of cleansing energy with every block, attempting to drive back the Chaotic filth that clung to Angron.
But as a Daemon Prince, Angron's strength, speed, regenerative ability, and immunity to pain had all reached an unbelievable level.
Vulkan, whose strength was among the greatest of the primarchs, now found the struggle immense. Angron's chainaxes gouged deep scores into Dawnbreaker's resilient haft and head, and each impact sent a numbing jolt up Vulkan's arms.
Worse still were the blood-flames that wreathed Angron's form. This was no ordinary fire but a manifestation of Khorne's power, carrying a potent corrosive property and a psychic assault that continuously burned at Vulkan's will and his power armour.
The battlefield seemed to split around them, their dueling ground becoming an absolute kill zone.
Stone was pulverized to dust beneath their feet, and constant waves of energy ripped apart anything that strayed too close. Loyalist and traitor soldiers alike instinctively recoiled from the area, daring only to watch the inhuman contest from a distance with gazes of awe and terror.
Sanguinius, Dorn, Jaghatai Khan, Ferrus Manus, and Corvus Corax stood at the entrance to the Palace command center, their expressions grim as they watched the furious battle below.
"Vulkan… he is no match for that creature," Sanguinius said, his golden eyes filled with worry.
He could clearly see the tremor that ran through Vulkan's body with every parry, and the scorched marks the blood-flames left upon his power armour. In contrast, any wound Angron sustained healed almost instantly thanks to the power of the Chaos God.
He only grew stronger as the fight wore on. Though their power seemed similar, Angron possessed far greater stamina and a fighting style that was infinitely more brutal, cruel, and savage.
"Someone has to go down there and support him," Ferrus Manus said, his voice as cold as steel as he clenched his hand into a fist.
Rogal Dorn remained silent, his gaze fixed on the duel. Vulkan had successfully tied up Angron, the enemy's most fearsome weapon, but this only delayed the crisis, it did not resolve it. Helbrutes were still battering the gates, daemonic slaughter continued within the walls, and Horus's main force had yet to appear.
Apart from Angron, not a single traitor primarch had shown himself since the battle began. That was what worried Dorn the most. He knew the Word Bearer Lorgar had been captured and was being escorted by Roboute Guilliman himself, and that Fulgrim had been slain by Axis on Isstvan V. That left Horus, Mortarion, Alpharius, the Primarch of the 11th Legion, and Konrad Curze.
"We must reinforce the other lines immediately!" Dorn decided. "Corax, you are the swiftest. Deal with those damned warp portals and the daemons inside the bastion. Jaghatai, your sons excel at mobile warfare. Harass the Daemon formations on the flanks and relieve pressure from the front. Ferrus, you and I will go to the main gate. Sanguinius…" Dorn turned to the Great Angel, "This is in your hands. If Vulkan is in peril, you are to aid him at once. And… watch the skies!" Rogal Dorn swiftly assigned their defensive duties.
Sanguinius gave a solemn nod, his white wings flaring slightly. His gaze remained locked on the titanic battle below, the Spear of Telesto held ready in his hand.
Down on the battlefield, Vulkan parried another crushing overhand blow from Angron.
The immense force drove him to one knee, shattering the ground beneath him. Angron seized the opportunity, raising a massive leg and stomping his blood-flame wreathed demonic hoof toward Vulkan's chest.
Vulkan's eyes narrowed. In that split second, he thrust Dawnbreaker's head horizontally across his chest.
A sickening crunch echoed as Vulkan was sent flying, as if struck by a siege ram. He crashed into one of the fortified walls of the Imperial Palace, the adamantium alloy buckling under the force of the impact and creating a massive crater webbed with fractures.
Vulkan coughed up a glob of golden-tinged blood. A clear, smoldering hoof-print was branded onto his breastplate.
"Vulkan!" Sanguinius cried out, his white wings unfurling as he launched himself from the bastion.
"ROOOAR!" Angron let out a triumphant bellow, raising his axes high to deliver the killing blow to his fallen brother.
But at that moment of life and death, a glint of defiance flashed in Vulkan's eyes.
The Lord of Drakes was far from defeated. He slammed a hidden rune on his breastplate.
The runes on Dawnbreaker's head suddenly blazed with an unprecedented, blinding light. A vast and searing wave of heat, powerful enough to forge stars, erupted from Vulkan. Pure, molten psychic energy coalesced into a searing white river of lava several meters in diameter, roaring toward the charging Angron like a volcanic eruption.
The daemon's charge was brought to a dead halt by the unexpected torrent of destructive energy. The instant the lava flow touched his daemonic skin, it hissed and sizzled as blood-flame and white-hot psychic fire clashed in a violent storm of annihilation.
Angron bellowed in a mix of agony and rage, his colossal body driven back, carving two deep furrows in the ground.
Vulkan seized the opportunity to tear himself from the cratered wall. He leaned on his hammer, gasping for breath. The pain in his chest was excruciating and his armour was severely damaged, but an unyielding fire still burned in his eyes.
Angron shook his scorched head and arms, the madness in his blood-red eyes more intense than ever. Vulkan's counterattack had utterly enraged him. The blood-flames around his body surged meters into the air, and the crimson glow of the Butcher's Nails was almost too bright to look at. He raised his axes again, preparing to launch an even more berserk assault.
At that moment, Sanguinius descended like a golden comet, landing before Vulkan. Just as Sanguinius's white wings were about to reach his brother's side, ready to stand with him against the daemon Angron, an entirely different yet equally terrifying presence descended upon the battlefield.
A tall, violet daemonic creature had appeared. It, or rather he, had once been the Phoenician, primarch of the Emperor's Children, Fulgrim.
He had been elevated, or perhaps degraded, to an inhuman form. After being slain by Axis, his physical body in the material universe had been destroyed; he was now a being of pure warp-stuff. His violet skin shimmered with a pearlescent luster, and it was adorned with blasphemous, ornate armour that seemed to be a living entity. His face still retained its breathtaking beauty, but his eyes burned with an inhuman purple fire and a smile of both temptation and cruelty played on his lips. From his back unfurled a pair of massive, purple, bat-like wings.
"Hehehe… my dearest Sanguinius," Fulgrim purred. "The Master wishes for me to bring you to the Palace of Pleasure, to be savored properly."
"Fulgrim! Weren't you killed by Axis?" Sanguinius asked with a frown.
"Kill me? Hahaha, you are correct. Axis did indeed kill me. But he only killed my mortal flesh and the daemon that possessed it. Now, I have been reborn."
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ps?