"Quite the turnout…"
Eden stood on the edge of the Dreamweaver's upper observation terrace, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Looking out from the terrace, the dark void still showed traces of the recent Chaos storm. Every so often, another flare of translation-fire lit up the darkness.
More and more Chaos fleets, drawn in by the bait, were dropping into realspace one batch after another, like dumplings being thrown into boiling water.
His armadas had already laid layer after layer of encirclement lines across this region of space, slicing it into a series of kill-zones.
All that was left was to slam the gates shut and beat the dogs.
Whoosh!
A colossal Doom Ark appeared at the outer edge of the Imperial fleet cordon, accompanied by a massive Chaos flotilla radiating monstrous menace.
In particular, the Blackstone Doom Ark at their head was a full thirty kilometres long. At its prow, a snarling crimson daemon-ram jutted forward, while rotting flesh, scaled carapace-plates and bone-spikes crawled along the hull.
Patches of the ship burned with dark-red witchflame. One glance was enough to tell how dangerous it was.
This was a large-scale Chaos fleet that really could cause trouble for the Imperial battle-groups.
"Brother, want me to go deal with that?"
Guilliman frowned slightly as he studied the approaching formation. A Chaos fleet of that scale, with a Blackstone behemoth at its heart, meant whoever was aboard was no ordinary foe.
It might take a Primarch to settle it properly.
Eden showed no concern at all as he answered,
"No need. That one's ours—our allies. That's the main fleet of the Terror Legion. They won't be attacking Imperial ships."
Even as he spoke, the Blackstone Doom Ark of the Terror Legion—the Heart of Terror—seemed to fully shake off the last traces of the Warp and burst into even brighter flame.
At the prow, the daemon's head sprouted a crown of witchfire. Bony membranes grew out to either side, the flame and bone together forming a pair of infernal wings.
Such flamboyant, over-the-top, and aggressively "cool" visual effects were very much a Terror Legion trademark.
Once Guilliman caught sight of the Terror Legion's sigils, his furrowed brow smoothed out.
He knew of the Terror Legion. This was a Chaos Legion that had risen after the Great Rift, with terrifying combat power.
Their Terror Warriors were especially infamous for their love of war.
Their shadow could appear on almost any battlefield in the galaxy. If they weren't fighting, they were on their way to another war, tireless and ecstatic.
The Terror Legion needed no excuse to join a conflict. As long as the war was big enough and bloody enough, there was a good chance they'd show up.
Some Imperial Warp-scholars even claimed that the Terror Warriors thirsted for war even more than Khorne's own berserkers, driven by a deeper, stronger hunger for battle.
They also had more advanced and lethal gear.
Their patron god—Diablo the Destroyer—bestowed on his followers rewards even richer than those the Blood God offered.
Because of that, the Terror Legion had even poached a number of Khorne's warriors into their ranks.
There were other aspects of the Terror Legion's behaviour that baffled many.
For example, their obsessive love of extravagant, blood-soaked, terror-inducing decorations.
And the visceral hatred they had for other Chaos forces. They would happily launch full-on assaults against any other Chaos army.
Some Imperial Warp-survey craft had even observed Terror Legion forces following the lines of the Great Rift into the Warp itself to raid daemon-held territories.
That was a feat humanity had never managed.
Their raids even had a strange regularity to them, as if they were observing some kind of tradition.
In truth, that was Diablo the Destroyer's blessing at work.
Within the Terror Legion, several times a year were designated as War Months. During those periods, the blood-tithe they earned in the name of spreading slaughter and terror would be doubled.
So when the War Months came, the Terror Warriors went utterly mad hunting battle, hurling themselves into wars, even charging into the Warp to raid daemon domains.
At their most extreme, they would lay elaborate traps, then summon daemons into them just to butcher them for points.
Those targets of choice—daemons of Chaos—were not happy about it.
Some daemons took to calling the Terror Legion "detestable bandits."
You could fairly say that, aside from the Cursed Legions, the Terror Legion was the second most hated army among daemons.
Nobody wanted to be minding their own business only for a pack of howling Terror Warriors to suddenly come roaring in, trash their territory and lop off their heads…
…treating them like rare, collectible trophies.
These lunatics were like industrial-strength chewing gum—or dog mess stuck to your boots. Even Chaos Lords and Greater Daemons were reluctant to "deal with" them.
Picking a fight with them was guaranteed loss.
Once you got involved with them, all you got was endless harassment and ambushes afterwards. They were terrorists among the ranks of Chaos itself.
What really confounded Imperial Warp-scholars, though, was this: the Terror Legion almost never launched attacks on human civilised worlds of their own accord.
Sometimes, they even helped Imperial worlds cleanse Chaos traitors, xenos, and other Chaos forces.
Some Imperial regions tormented by constant invasion had even built very stable mercenary relationships with the Terror Legion.
In those areas, whenever a Chaos incursion or alien invasion broke out, sending a distress call to the Terror Legion was considered a perfectly sensible move.
The Terror Legion responded faster than the Emperor's Angels themselves—and they didn't meddle in anything except the fighting. They showed up, killed everything that needed killing, grabbed their trophies and left.
They even, in a roundabout way, helped the Imperium clean up Chaos taint.
When they ran short on work or found themselves in a lull between wars, they would even take the initiative to message asking whether there were any heretics or xenos that needed "handling" anywhere.
By that behaviour, they were practically the Imperium's good buddies.
Ironically, in some civilised systems, the Terror Legion's reputation was actually better than that of the Emperor's Angels. At least they weren't prone to massacring civilians because of gene-flaws or uncontrollable rage.
So, after long study, Warp-scholars had arrived at this conclusion:
"The Terror Legion is not an enemy of the Imperium, at least not for now. Do not provoke them. When necessary, they should be used.
Use them to fight the heretics and xenos in our stead."
Even the Inquisition agreed with that conclusion. After all, who didn't like a free mercenary army?
And not just humans: some xenos also liked to hire the Terror Legion. They were a uniquely famous force across the galaxy.
Given the sheer scale of the current conflict in the Vostonia Meta-Sector, it was not the least bit surprising that the Terror Legion had turned up to join in.
"This might actually be a good thing for the Imperium," Guilliman thought.
Until the overall strategic situation stabilised, he had no desire to launch a crusade against the Terror Legion. That would only waste precious strength and create more problems.
It was the same reason, back in the day, that the Imperium had hesitated to commit fully to a campaign against the Tau Empire at the edge of the galaxy.
If that upstart empire hadn't gotten too full of itself and encroached on the Saviour's realm, it probably wouldn't have been conquered by mankind so early.
As he turned over everything he knew about the Terror Legion, the Avenging Son's tactical mind grew more and more suspicious.
He looked up at the Saviour and asked,
"Brother… the Terror Legion doesn't happen to have something to do with you, does it?"
The more he analysed them, the more their style felt familiar, and the more they reminded him of Eden's own way of operating.
"I can only tell you this much: the Terror Legion will never initiate attacks on the Imperium. You can treat them as permanent allies."
Eden did not directly spell out his relationship with the Terror Legion.
At the very least, he couldn't say it openly.
If word got out that the sitting Emperor had murky connections with a Chaos Legion, it would not exactly help with the whole "holy, untouchable Emperor" image project.
So he shifted into full blame-shifting mode and said quietly to Guilliman,
"Don't tell anyone else this, but… the Terror Legion was arranged by His Radiant Majesty himself.
It's one of his methods for dealing with Chaos.
Think of them as one of the Imperium's deepest, darkest secrets. This absolutely must not be revealed."
Inside Imperial space, humanity practically believed the Emperor unconditionally. Those who didn't, had mostly already crossed the line to the other side.
Which meant that whatever His Radiant Dad did, it must be reasonable. It must be "for the Imperium."
He was the perfect lightning rod.
Eden's "whisper" was just a little too loud. Not only Guilliman, but the Khan and several of the other legendary warriors heard him clearly.
Everything suddenly made sense.
No wonder the Terror Legion fought heretics and xenos so hard—it was all part of the Emperor's grand plan.
He must have influenced the Legion in some way.
They all engraved this "secret" deep in their hearts, and silently resolved to carry it to the grave.
"Perfect. Saves me having to explain it later."
Eden was quite pleased with the unintended consequences of his not-so-subtle whisper.
This way, he could handle the relationship between the Terror Legion and the Imperium nicely, avoiding too many messy clashes and awkward "fighting myself" situations.
Bringing the Terror Legion here wasn't just about letting them show their faces in front of the Imperium. More importantly, it was about helping deal with all the Chaos warbands blundering into his trap.
"This war is going to drag in our fallen brothers," Guilliman said, pulling his gaze away from the Heart of Terror. "They will strike at us, sooner or later…"
"You're right," Eden said, frowning and sighing. "That's going to be a real headache. There are a lot of those fallen bastards."
Right now, besides that fearsome Enemy of All, there were at least four other fallen Primarchs active, including Lorgar and his Word Bearers, who hadn't shown their faces in some time.
If they joined forces, the number of loyalist Primarchs would be at a disadvantage. And that was before you added in all the Greater Daemons, whose numbers were all but impossible to estimate.
Any way you looked at it, Chaos' upper-tier fighting power was not to be taken lightly.
Vmm—
"So he's here too. Looks a lot stronger than before…"
Eden's vox picked up a new transmission. He glanced over it and projected the content: the image of a half-man, half-serpent abomination.
Fulgrim, the Fallen Phoenix.
Guilliman stared at the fallen brother who'd struck him down and consigned him to a millennia-long coma. His eyes turned cold and hard.
"Old Gui, that one's yours," Eden said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.
He knew Guilliman had never truly gotten over being felled by Fulgrim. He'd always wanted to wash away that stain.
Letting him settle the score with the Fallen Phoenix himself was the best choice.
"Leave him to me."
Guilliman didn't say anything more. He just locked his gaze on the holographic projection of Fulgrim, his war-spirit flaring.
Then the Avenging Son turned and strode back into the ship, heading toward the armouries.
Looked like he was going back to train.
"Old Gui should be able to win this time… right? If Fulgrim flattens him again, that's going to be embarrassing…"
Watching Guilliman's retreating back, Eden had a faintly bad feeling.
Guilliman himself probably didn't feel all that confident either. That'd be why he'd gone running off for an emergency training binge—and why he'd likely be tossing and turning, sleepless, on the eve of the fight.
Eden didn't linger on the terrace for long. He went back to the Sanctum.
He still had no idea how many enemies were out there. He needed to raise his own personal combat power as much as possible.
So he began operating his shadow-side alternate identity, his Chaos clone—his Dark Prince.
…
Heart of Terror, throne hall.
Dark-gold runes covered the entire chamber. Streams of magma spilled endlessly along the walls, filling the air with a haze of evil witchfire.
In the centre of the hall, thousands of elite Terror Warriors stood in ranks, hearts pounding with anticipation.
Before them, on the far side, stood a massive throne of molten iron, guarded by eight Dark Thunder Custodians.
Upon the throne sat a towering, shadowy figure.
That daemonic silhouette was wrapped in terrifying Warp energy, around eight metres tall, with twisted horns curling from its skull. Its body was covered in mysterious symbols that gleamed faintly red.
The glow of the molten rivers lit the chamber, revealing the full form of the figure.
He was strikingly handsome, a perfect balance of grace and ferocity. His muscles were sharp as chiselled metal, sculpted like living adamantium.
He radiated overwhelming power without ever looking bulky.
This was the Dark Prince, the Daemon of Terror—Eden's Chaos clone-body, one of the strongest incarnations he possessed.
Zzzzt—
As Eden took control of this shadow-avatar, the Dark Prince opened his eyes. In those demonic pupils, hellfire roared to life, and waves of tangible pressure rolled out from the throne.
Boom—
"Kill!"
In the hall, the Terror Warriors dropped to one knee as one, offering their reverence to their awakening lord.
They were organised in eights: eight to a squad, sixty-four to a company, the whole formation arrayed in multiples of eight, their phalanxes exuding pure murderous intent.
Even the décor of the hall echoed the Brass Citadel. Behind the throne, the blood-drenched shadow of Diablo the Destroyer loomed faintly, mimicking the Blood God's presence.
If anything, he looked even more savage—more like the god of slaughter than the "original" himself.
Eeden looked around and felt very satisfied.
He'd done it on purpose. He was poaching from Khorne—stealing his manpower and his prayer-stream.
In this galaxy, every war and every act of killing sent power to the Blood God, raising his divine might.
But all the war and slaughter generated by the Terror Legion went to Diablo the Destroyer first. By the time it reached Khorne's altar, there were only scraps left.
In short, as the man in the middle, Eden skimmed off most of the faith-energy for himself—and then funnelled a big chunk of it back into the Terror Legion, helping it grow even stronger.
Which meant the larger the Legion grew, and the more wars they joined, the more killing-energy they diverted away from Khorne.
He pocketed the mark-up and all the profit, while the Blood God was left subsidising his own competition.
If Khorne wanted to bless fights involving the Terror Legion, there was no profit in it at all. He'd have to pay in his own power on top.
Pure loss.
If he sent Khorne's warriors to punish them, those warriors might well be tempted by the Terror Legion's perks and jump ship. In that case, he'd end up losing manpower and faith both.
"Doing it this way… the Blood God's probably about at the end of his patience.
Once he pulls a hand free from this war, he'll almost certainly send a major host to attack the Terror Legion," Eden mused.
If he were in Khorne's shoes, he wouldn't be able to stomach it either.
The mighty lord of war, famed for his generous blessings, had been made to look stingy next to Diablo the Destroyer.
And on top of that, Diablo was running a bootleg brand using his style, using that knock-off to siphon off the power of slaughter.
Who could endure that?
Of course, Khorne did have a theoretical option: he could raise his own blessing ratios and grant his followers even more power than Diablo, countering that "generous sponsor" advantage.
But he couldn't.
He still had to compete with the other Ruinous Powers. He needed his own reservoir of strength to keep growing.
If he handed out all the slaughter-power to his minions, how was he supposed to become stronger himself? How was he supposed to win in the gods' endless game?
His strength came from drawing up his followers' killing energy—it was parasitic by nature.
In that situation, Diablo the Destroyer could use his superior "faith payouts" to bite a huge chunk out of Khorne's portfolio of killing-energy.
Eden, on the other hand, had no intention of becoming a god. He had no problem giving away as much of the kill-energy as needed.
It was profit on top of profit.
To guard against the inevitable backlash once Khorne unleashed his army, Eden needed to seize this opportunity to expand the Terror Legion's manpower and make them even stronger, so they wouldn't be wiped out in a single purge.
And this massive war in the Vostonia Meta-Sector was the perfect opportunity.
The conflict not only tied up the Blood God's attention, it had drawn together an unprecedented density of Chaos warriors and armies.
Especially now, with Eden using the Ten Thousand Eyes and the Warp-storm as bait, setting a trap that sucked in warbands from across the region.
There were not many wars in the galaxy where this many Chaos fighters gathered in one place.
The Terror Legion could even fight alongside the Imperial fleets, using their numerical superiority to crush and suppress all comers.
Eden's aim was to bring those Chaos warriors under control and turn them into a permanent mobile reserve, fighting guerilla wars against Chaos in the Warp itself.
It was extremely hard for the Imperium to "housebreak" Chaos warbands. But for the Terror Legion, the job would be much easier.
After all, the Terror Legion was a Chaos army with a fearsome reputation across the stars, offering generous benefits, unlimited warfare… and the patronage of Diablo the Destroyer, a rising god.
They were a very attractive package.
And on top of that, Eden would be further boosting their armaments. Win–win.
Floating up from the iron throne, Eden guided the Dark Prince over to the flame-eyed scrying device set in the ship's "forehead," using the dark machinery to survey the surrounding void.
In those spaces, more Chaos warbands were arriving. Imperial ships were smashing their void shields and making them behave.
Whoosh—
"Slay the false Emperor!"
A Tzeentchian warband translated in. Once their ships dropped out of motion, the warriors and sorcerers aboard saw the countless Imperial ships hemming them in.
They understood the situation at once.
"Damn that Ten Thousand Eyes warband! They tricked us!"
"This is bad! Translation is failing—Warp-jumps and sorcerous teleportation both blocked. This is a complete trap…"
"We surrender! We're willing to surrender!"
The Tzeentchian warband realised they'd been lured in by the Saviour's bait.
The Saviour's "distress call" had been so enticing. They'd rushed here in a great flood, pants down and ready to jump in—and when they finally arrived, every angle around them was packed with elite Imperial forces.
Their Chaos "allies" were either already destroyed or disarmed, filing out of their ships one by one with hands on their heads, squatting on the hulls and waiting to be processed.
Once the Tzeentch warband realised that surrender was on the table, they moved like lightning to take the offer.
Opportunities like this were rare. In the old days, the Imperium would gladly pay any cost to annihilate Chaos forces. They would never have considered compromise.
But not every warband was willing to surrender and wait quietly for judgement.
Many Chaos forces still tried to resist.
Especially the Khorne warbands.
This was where the Terror Legion came in. Only by showing overwhelming, irresistible strength could you break the Blood God's warriors.
"Move out."
Eden, in the body of the Dark Prince, gave a crisp order.
A rain of Dreadclaws hurtled toward the Khorne warbands' ships.
Boarding actions had begun—and their objective was recruitment.
The Dreadclaws, fitted with melta-cutters, punched into the Chaos vessels whose shields had already been stripped away, burning neat holes through their armour.
"Warriors, doesn't this look familiar? Chaos is once again facing…"
As the Terror Legion's recruitment-sermon blared, squads of Terror Warriors streaked down the boarding tunnels in full flaming, winged glory, charging into the ship interiors and chopping down everything in their path.
The Blood God's warriors, with their relatively crude kit, simply could not stop them. Before long, they were on the deck, howling under the blows.
Fortunately, the Terror Warriors had no intention of killing them outright.
After hacking them down and giving them a good stomping, they switched to the next phase—sign-ups.
This method of "beat them half to death, then offer them a contract" proved surprisingly effective.
Once the Khorne warriors had experienced their own utter uselessness and seen the Terror Legion's might with their own eyes, most of them chose to enlist.
Those who still dared to refuse were simply pinned to the deck and beaten some more…
…until they changed their minds.
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"]
[Every 500 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]