Chapter 24: Magnus Must Die!
Nuceria
On the massive ceremonial platform, World Eaters in blood-stained blue and white power armor competed in their grisly contest. They took turns adding severed heads from their recent campaign to towering piles of death.
The air didn't smell of decay, only the thick, sickening stench of fresh blood. Maybe the contest included whose trophies kept the warmest red color. Gore had turned the white platform into a sea of red, and blood poured continuously over its edges.
Below the platform, the assembled World Eaters watched with intense focus. Their chainswords growled hungrily, and their trembling forms fought to suppress the frenzy that the Butcher's Nails demanded. Looking at the spoils arranged like some twisted throne, the warriors grew more restless.
Once everyone had added their heads, the grand ceremony began.
"First Company, eliminated one million, one hundred eleven thousand, five hundred thirty enemies!"
"ROAR!!!" A thunderous bellow erupted from the First Company's ranks.
"Second Company, eliminated one million, one thousand, three hundred seventy-three enemies!"
"Roar!!" The Second Company's response was noticeably weaker.
"..."
"Eighth Company, eliminated three million, one hundred seventy-eight thousand, six hundred enemies exactly!"
"ROAR, ROAR, ROAR!" The Eighth Company's massive roar drowned out all previous displays.
"..."
The ceremony master started the next phase, the Warrior Tradition, to be performed by the company with the fewest kills.
"All warriors of the Second Company, get on the platform and begin the death-match!"
The Second Company warriors climbed onto the platform after receiving the order. They set aside their weapons and removed their power armor. Only a few would survive this trial by combat.
Standing within the circle of severed heads, the thick smell of blood slowly took away their reason, and their bodies began to sway.
Until one warrior's foot slipped on the gore.
Clap~
Every head snapped up in unison as they roared: "KILL!"
With eyes red as rabid beasts, they threw themselves at each other. Fists and feet flew, and each impact came with the sharp crack of breaking bone and the wet tear of flesh.
One warrior drove a devastating punch into his opponent's stomach. With a resounding crash, the victim flew backward and slammed into the platform, but he scrambled to his feet almost immediately and launched another vicious assault.
In the brutal fight, a wrestling specialist used his opponent's momentum against him. He grabbed his collar and drove him into the ground, while a boxer danced around his opponent's clumsy attacks before unleashing a series of strikes that burst his liver and spleen.
"Fight! Kill him! Kill him!" "Tear him apart! Rip out his liver!" "Where the hell are you grabbing?! Is that even legal?!" "Go for the eyes! The eyes!"
Even the spectators below grew frenzied and shouted encouragement. Some began fighting amongst themselves at the slightest provocation.
"Come on! If you disagree, let's settle it!" "You're really pushing your luck!"
CLANG! A chainsword met a greatsword, spewing deadly sparks.
The scene turned into complete chaos. The ceremony master had already jumped into the fight, and mayhem reigned as blood flew in all directions. Some World Eaters died in the brawl, though traces of relief marked their faces in death.
High above this carnage, Angron sat on his throne. With his chin propped on one massive fist, he calmly watched the slaughter below. Only through constant exposure to killing could he find any comfort.
Then he sensed a presence approaching from above.
Suddenly, Magnus's voice reached his mind: "Angron, salvation awaits. Francis expects you on Terra."
Confusion flickered across the Red Angel's features. In that brief moment of hesitation, before he could look up, a massive psychic energy beam struck him with devastating force.
BOOOOM!
The terrible energy completely destroyed the platform. The Second Company warriors on it were instantly turned into bloody mist by the shockwave, and the ground split with violent cracks as a devastating earthquake jolted the frenzied World Eaters from their bloodlust.
A mushroom cloud rose from where the platform had stood. As every warrior craned their necks toward the destruction, a voice roared from the crater's depths:
"MAGNUS! I WILL KILL YOU!" "YOU JUST WAIT FOR ME!"
Angron lay at the bottom of a deep crater, his fury consuming all reason. It seemed the Red Angel hadn't understood a single word of Magnus's message.
Far away on his battleship, Magnus witnessed the destruction he had caused.
"Hiss~ Just as Francis predicted... but you can't blame me for this. Should I attempt an explanation?"
After the tremors finally stopped, Angron, covered in dust and debris, clawed his way up from a hundred meters underground. The Butcher's Nails on his skull writhed with evil life and sent fresh waves of agonizing pain through his mind.
"AHHHHHHH!"
His eyes blazing red, Angron charged toward the World Eaters below. He didn't care that they were his gene-sons, and he raised his chainsword in a wide arc. Screams erupted as the weapon found flesh.
Like a maddened lion, Angron tore at every living creature before him.
Until, CLANG!
A war hammer met his chainsword, and the warrior opposing him flew backward through the air.
"My lord, cease this madness! Wake up!"
Khârn, Captain of the Eighth Company, spat blood as he struggled to rise from his impact crater.
"Librarians! Where are all the damn Librarians?!"
"Captain, we're underneath you," came muffled voices from below. Only then did Khârn realize he'd landed on top of several warriors, which explained why he suddenly felt stronger.
Just as Khârn began gathering the Legion's psykers, familiar energy fluctuations struck once more. Recognizing the threat, Khârn immediately ordered all warriors to retreat.
"Angron, this is Chaos corruption, I'm not attacking you!"
Facing Magnus's psychic assault again, the Red Angel's rage knew no bounds.
"MAGNUS!!!" "I WILL SURELY KILL YOU!"
With sanity completely consumed by madness, Angron raised his chainsword toward the heavens and intercepted the incoming beam with his blade.
BOOM!
Where weapon met psychic energy, dazzling sparks and violent fluctuations erupted. The chainsword's edge gradually turned cherry-red from the sustained contact while the energy beam dimmed under the relentless assault.
Finally, with a deafening roar, the chainsword shattered through the psychic beam and cleaved it in two.
"AHHHHH! YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!"
Angron had fallen completely into the depths of madness.
Meanwhile, on Prospero
Fabricator-General Ke'erbo of the Adeptus Mechanicus had finished another day of scientific research and prepared to relax. His optical sensors fell on the Ork lie detector he'd previously damaged. The painful memory it brought up prompted him to repair the device and add it to his collection, maybe to display before his peers later.
"Alas, my second brother's genetic mastery proves too precious to entrust solely to the Emperor. He should remain with me, together we could achieve unprecedented technological advancement."
Ke'erbo's vox-grille let out repeated sighs. Since Francis's departure, he'd tried to replicate the gene sequence of the "Ork brain," but every effort had failed. Some crucial genetic material seemed to change during the cultivation process, despite his considerable expertise.
The thought filled him with unusual frustration.
At that moment, several of his tech-adept subordinates approached and observed their master working with what appeared to be scrap components.
"Fabricator-General, what device are you constructing?"
"We haven't encountered this pattern before."
Their eager optical lenses pleased Ke'erbo greatly. Holding up the "Ork brain," he declared, "Observe what rests within my mechadendrite! With this, we'll greatly accelerate our research into xenos-tech."
"Blessed Omnissiah! This represents divine artifice!"
"Fabricator-General, might we receive similar augmentations?!"
Several tech-adepts moved closer, and the sound of metal against metal came from their forms as dozens of optical sensors focused on him expectantly.
Facing this sea of mechanical scrutiny, Ke'erbo cleared his vox-grille. "This was crafted by Lord Francis Krik, with whom I share the bond of sworn brotherhood, and no, it hasn't yet achieved mass production capability."
"Ahh..." The news brought visible disappointment among the gathered servants of the Machine God.
"However, he'll create additional units when time permits in the future!"
This revelation immediately restored their enthusiasm. Then, noticing the repaired helmet in their master's manipulator, they asked further.
"Fabricator-General! What device do you hold?"
"This? An Ork lie detector of incredible potency. If one lacks proper caution..."
As he spoke, Ke'erbo's enhanced thinking processors, aided by the "Ork brain," suddenly understood the helmet's true function.
Ork... perm helmet?
This device existed for Orks to style their hair? The red-hot elements provided heating, while the dinging supplied musical accompaniment?
His subordinates grew confused as their master stopped speaking mid-explanation. Did the Fabricator-General intend to hide this knowledge?
Every one of Ke'erbo's neural pathways fired rapidly before reaching a conclusion.
"Which among you desires to test this device?"
Tech-Adept Lucas Chrome immediately stepped forward with enthusiasm.
"Me! Me! Me!!!"
[End of Chapter]
Hoof, tough day, ain't it? Sigh, we toil away so hard, back start breaking man, this chemist said I need to be in the sun more, it's causing a lack of vitamin D from the sun.
Sigh, this is our civilized modern world. Well, I won't say much, I mean, hey, there is the Internet.