The Chogorian tulwar carved a crackling arc of energy through the Warp powers enveloping Mortarion. As the grayish-green light completely dissipated, the silhouette of the Death Lord vanished without a trace.
His expression grim, Jaghatai Khan cast a brief glance at the foul, decaying blood dripping from the blade of his relic sword, White Tiger, before turning to plunge back into the swirling chaos of the battlefield.
The Plague Sorcerer who had engineered Mortarion's escape at the critical moment had already fallen. The Keshig had used their plasma pistols to reduce the plague-wreathed heap of necrotized meat to a pile of charred cinders.
With Mortarion transposed away, the remaining Deathshroud Terminators swiftly vanished from the field. Just like their unnatural arrival, none could discern exactly how they departed. Bereft of their Primarch's presence, the remaining Death Guard forces were quickly broken.
The Khan's return brought far more than just a Primarch-level asset to the Chapter; the ten thousand Legion-era veterans who had returned alongside him were the truest treasure. The operational intensity of the M30 era vastly eclipsed that of M40. These transhuman warriors had participated in suppressing the Great Heresy, and had subsequently followed their Primarch to fight through the Webway for countless millennia. The combat experience gained from fighting alongside a demi-god across such protracted timelines was staggering.
Prior to the Great Khan's return, the total number of White Scars throughout the galaxy hovered around a mere hundred thousand. The influx of ten thousand Crusade-era veterans instantly elevated the operational capability of the entire White Scars lineage. Under the Khan's direct orders, these ancient veterans integrated seamlessly with their modern successor-kin and Primaris Marines. The Chapter culture of the White Scars shaped them to be uninhibited, fierce, and deeply respectful of strength and seniority.
The names of these ten thousand veterans were nearly all recorded within the Chapter's hallowed histories, cataloged as having vanished while hunting the enemies of the Imperium alongside their Primarch. Yet, upon their return, they were remarkably warm. Around roaring bonfires, eating roasted meat, and consuming vast quantities of heavy spirits, these plainsmen soon ended up rolling on the ground, wrestling each other in high spirits.
Once his sons grew familiar with one another, Jaghatai initiated a series of structural reorganizations. Large numbers of veterans were distributed across the various brotherhoods. The newly inducted neophytes and battle-brothers learned techniques for countering daemons, Aeldari, and heretic Astartes from the ancients. Conversely, the veterans learned specialized modern doctrines from their descendants who had already been fighting the Long War, such as how to combat the Necrons. During M30, the Necrons had been far less active, and wide-scale engagements against them were practically non-existent.
The fighting on the death world soon ground to a halt. The broken Death Guard retreated into the shadows via unknown means, and the remaining warped bio-monstrosities lacked the mass to threaten a concentrated force of the Adeptus Astartes.
With the departure of the Death Guard, the Warp energies shrouding the planet began to recede. Though the vox-network still suffered from heavy static, long-range vox-relays began to re-establish. Orbital strikes, guided by precise ground coordinates, commenced surgical purges of the remaining plague concentrations.
White Scars outriders fanned out across the globe on their bikes, searching for anomalies. Yet, aside from the bizarre crystalline flora, the planet seemed devoid of interest. The plagues had thoroughly hollowed out this world. The entire encounter appeared to be nothing more than an unexpected coincidence.
Once it was verified that the world held no further strategic value, the Khan recalled all remaining forces. The battle-brothers who had fallen in the line of duty were gathered and cremated. Nurgle's blights were exceptionally virulent; it was impossible to preserve the remains intact for transport back to the hallowed tombs of Chogoris.
Though they had suffered a sudden ambush upon landfall that claimed nearly a hundred lives, the operation was undeniably a resounding victory. Under the leadership of the Khan and his veterans, the White Scars had eliminated nearly nine hundred Death Guard at the cost of roughly three hundred of their own. Furthermore, they had broken two Terminator squads and cut down over a dozen Deathshroud. In contrast, the Khan's personal Keshig suffered only three minor casualties. As for the plague monstrosities eradicated, their numbers were beyond count.
When compiling the final casualty assessments, Jubal possessed a mindset vastly different from that of Jaghatai. Having been raised in the diminished reality of the late Imperium, Jubal found the loss of three hundred battle-brothers an incredibly heavy burden to bear.
Jaghatai naturally sensed his son's dark mood, prompting a grim sigh from the Primarch. During the Great Heresy, even Astartes fell like chaff before the wind. A casualty count of a few hundred was practically negligible by those ancient metrics. The infamous Drop Site Massacre of Isstvan V had shattered the Iron Hands Legion in a matter of hours, alongside vast swathes of the Raven Guard and Salamanders, not to mention the loyalist elements within the traitor legions themselves. Over a hundred thousand loyal Astartes had been slaughtered in a single campaign. If the exchange ratio of this latest skirmish could have been scaled up to those ancient battlefields, Horus's host would have amounted to nothing.
With these grim reflections in mind, Jaghatai ordered an immediate evacuation of the system, decreeing a virus-bombing and subsequent Exterminatus upon the plague-soaked world. He intended to journey to Terra to look upon his brother, Roboute Guilliman, once more.
During the Heresy, the Ultramarines had likewise endured catastrophic attrition, losing over a hundred thousand warriors over the course of the war. Yet, within an incredibly brief window, Guilliman had replenished his Legion's ranks, and the Ultramarines quickly demonstrated a terrifyingly clinical proficiency in counter-traitor operations.
It was rumored that even before the Heresy, Guilliman's sons had systematically cataloged the combat doctrines of their brother Legions, formulating specific tactical contingencies against them. Conducting targeted studies on how to wage war against one's own brothers before the rebellion had even ignited was not an asset the Ultramarines should have possessed. Back then, Jaghatai had lacked the luxury of time to investigate the matter; now, he resolved to demand answers.
Moreover, no matter how prosperous the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar truly were, swelling the ranks by over a hundred thousand Astartes in such a compressed timeframe defied standard logistics. Furthermore, the secretive Lion El'Jonson, Guilliman, and Sanguinius had clearly shared some private compact. If Sanguinius were still among the living, perhaps he would have given him the truth.
Thinking of this, Jaghatai rubbed his chin, a labyrinth of thoughts racing through the Primarch's mind. He understood his duties perfectly; the Emperor had vested him with unique mandates and specific remotes. Whether concerning the expunged and forgotten Legions or the traitors who had turned their backs on the light, tracking the anomalies of the galaxy remained the sacred charge of the White Scars.
Cyclonic torpedoes dropped from the underbelly of the strike cruisers, drawing brilliant, falling streaks across the upper atmosphere before detonating against the crust. From this day forward, the death world reached its absolute end.
Incandescent nuclear firestorms rolled and expanded across the surface, engulfing the entire planet in an all-consuming conflagration. The lingering contagions were burned to ash, and the warped flora disintegrated into smoke. Once the payload efficacy of the Exterminatus was confirmed, the White Scars fleet slipped anchor and made for the void.
Not long after their departure, a gathering of dark disciples arrived in the dead system.
Aboard a hidden vessel, a Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons stared down at the ruined world with burning intensity. The planet, flayed by nuclear fire, had been reduced to a barren, scorched husk, the foulness of Nurgle thoroughly burned away.
Yet, across that vitreous, superheated surface, countless scattered crystal shards continued to pulse with an unholy light.
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