"Erebus, when on Earth are you bastards like you finally going to die?"
The Possessed Space Marine raised his head in confusion, his pupils reflecting the terrifying green-armored giant who was gradually closing in.
Even though his brain had long been riddled with holes by the corruption of the Warp, at this moment it became clearer than ever before.
Although he knew the timing was utterly inappropriate, as a veteran of the Great Crusade, the Possessed Marine still let out a relieved laugh.
'You called the Lion a little kitten, huh?'
The Chaos Daemon whispered within his body, but those voices now sounded beyond ridiculous.
He stared fixedly at the slightly weathered yet still imposing face of Lion El'Jonson.
'Me, fighting Lion El'Jonson?'
'For real?'
'Would I win?'
The thought lasted for only a split second.
'Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!' The roar of bolters swept through like a violent storm.
The Word Bearers stationed in the square could not even perform basic tactical maneuvers before being torn into shreds by the impenetrable wall of firepower.
The coordination among the Risen was nothing short of seamless.
Even a few Helbrutes that rushed out roaring from the flanks could only howl helplessly in that meticulously crafted killzone before dropping to their knees.
As for the Lion himself, he did not even need to break his stride.
'No way, impossible to fight!'
Seeing this scene, the Possessed Marine immediately made his decision.
'Run!'
'Absolute suicide to engage!'
He did not even care about his subordinates who were still struggling to hold on. His massive body wheeled around abruptly, and he bolted.
However, before he could even take a full stride, a gust of wind struck from behind.
'What?'
His eyes widened in shock.
The Lion, who had been far away just a moment ago, appeared right before him as if he had teleported.
"[Colchisian Expletive], what kind of freakish speed is that?!"
The Possessed Marine only managed to blurt out half a curse, subconsciously swinging his weapon in an attempt to make a final stand.
But a flash of sword-light gleamed. Before he could even register the trajectory of the blade, his right arm flew off at the shoulder.
Immediately after, a fierce sidekick slammed heavily into his chest, knocking him flat onto the ground.
The impact cratered the earth.
Lying on his back, the immense vitality granted to him by the Chaos Daemon—rendering him nearly unkillable—now became his greatest torture.
"Where is your sorcerer?"
The Lion's voice was cold and commanding, like a death sentence pronounced from the distant void.
"My speed and strength are slightly diminished compared to the past. Tell me the whereabouts of the sorcerer who dared place a curse on me right now!"
The Possessed Marine froze for a second.
'Curse?'
'Who possessed Erebus to make him act so honorably?'
The next instant, he realized the truth.
"Hahaha... What sorcerer...?"
The Possessed Marine grinned wickedly.
Of course he knew this camp was established by Erebus. That dog was also one of the premier Chaos Sorcerers in the galaxy.
In terms of mastery over Warp rituals, there were likely few Astartes in the entire galaxy stronger than Erebus.
However, the Possessed Marine had no doubt whatsoever that Erebus wouldn't dare place a curse on the Lion.
What a joke.
Based on his knowledge of Erebus, the moment that bastard laid eyes on the Lion, he would have already turned tail and fled.
"What sorcerer?!"
The Possessed Marine burst into laughter, his voice filled with self-abandoned madness. "You're just getting old! That's all!"
The surrounding air seemed to freeze.
The Lion fell silent for a moment.
His expression did not change, but a fleeting spark flashed deep within those eyes.
"I see."
The next moment, without another word, he raised the Sword of Fealty in his hand.
"Wait—wait a minute!"
The Possessed Marine's eyes widened instantly.
Even for a death-defying Chaos rebel like him, seeing that blade raised filled him with uncontrollable regret over his loose tongue.
"I have vital intelligence!"
He almost screamed it out. "I can tell you where the leader of this camp—that dog Erebus—fled to! You can go catch him!"
"As for the information you want, he definitely knows way more than I do!"
The tip of the sword paused in midair.
The Lion silently gazed down at the hideous Possessed Marine beneath his feet. After a brief pause, he slowly lowered the Sword of Fealty.
"Are you hoping I will spare your life?"
"No... of course not."
The Possessed Marine gritted his teeth, a flicker of gnashing sincerity surprisingly emerging on his twisted face.
"I only hope you send him down here to meet me!"
'That damned dog!'
'Tricking me into dying, huh?'
'Even if I die, I'll make damn sure you don't get off easy!'
---
Shortly after.
On the other side.
"And that is how things stand."
Corswain stood in the middle of the corridor a short distance ahead, holding his longsword, his posture calm and composure intact.
Erebus was breaking out in a cold sweat.
He stood in the dark hidden passage, the exit just a stone's throw away, but a familiar figure was already blocking the path.
Corswain.
Seneschal of the Dark Angels, Commander of the First Company.
A hero of the Great Crusade.
Thus, what was originally a tiny distance suddenly felt as vast as an impassable chasm.
"Is this the bond between you Chaos rebels?"
Corswain's voice was tranquil. "Truly touching, isn't it?"
"[Colchisian Expletive]!"
The corner of Erebus's mouth twitched violently.
'Damn it!'
He never expected that damned Possessed Marine to know about this secret passage as well, let alone leak it right before dying!
As a human pillar for Warp teleporters just like Ezekiel Abaddon, Erebus was naturally as familiar with Warp teleportation as an escape method as anyone could be.
However, he had now run into a minor problem.
Erebus's fingers frantically pressed the button of the teleportation device concealed behind his back.
Once, twice, three times.
The damned device gave no response whatsoever.
The Webway.
The grand creation of the Old Ones—a paradoxical realm that perfectly isolated the tides of the Warp while utilizing its laws to work miracles.
Here, any conventional Warp teleportation method would suffer unpredictable interference, and his power was clearly insufficient to tear apart the rules of the Webway itself.
"Heh, can we make peace?"
Erebus squeezed out a flattering smile.
"You must be joking," Corswain replied with a cold sneer.
The sharp hum of a power sword cutting through the air exploded inside the narrow secret passage!
Facing such a fierce attack, Erebus was forced to channel his psychic power. Chaos runes twisted and writhed across his skin, granting him speed and strength far surpassing that of an ordinary Astartes.
The two crossed blades several times in the dark, sword-light and psychic energy clashing in brilliant sparks.
Yet very quickly, Erebus knew he had zero chance of winning.
His strength might allow him to stall the Seneschal of the Dark Angels for a short while.
But any longer than that was impossible.
Even more fatal—Lion El'Jonson could arrive at any second!
He had to run!
Erebus let out a heart-wrenching roar.
A surge of pitch-black smoke erupted from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. His speed suddenly spiked to an unimaginable level, turning his entire body into a blurred shadow that forcibly broke free from Corswain's attack range, madly fleeing toward the passage exit.
Evidently, he had drawn upon some sort of dark Warp sorcery with a heavy price!
Though Corswain reacted to pursue at the very first instance, he was still thrown off by a step due to that uncanny acceleration.
'Pathetic!'
How could Erebus waste time fighting slowly in a place like this?
How could he die here?
Even if it meant burning his life force, he had to survive!
Ahead, the entrance to the camp's main tunnel was emitting a faint light.
He was there, almost there.
As long as he could reach that spot—
"Stop right there."
A cold voice sounded from up ahead.
Erebus's steps ground to a sudden halt.
At the end of the passage, right in front of that single ray of hope for escape, a massive figure stood calmly.
The giant's face bore slight furrows, displaying a hint of age.
Most of his once-brilliant golden hair had turned silver-white, with only a few stubborn strands of gold remaining at his temples.
Yet those marks of time did not diminish his majesty in the slightest; instead, they made this grand lion look all the more intimidating to behold.
With a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he stood placidly at the end of the passage.
Those hunter-like eyes locked firmly onto Erebus.
Behind him, the Risen had already formed a solid shield-wall, a line of bolter muzzles aimed in unison directly at Erebus.
The surrounding area was terrifyingly quiet.
It was only at this moment that Erebus realized, in hindsight, that the battle cries that had previously echoed across the camp had completely vanished.
Under the personal command of the Lion, that squad of fewer than twenty Risen had destroyed every critical node in the camp at an absurd speed, reducing the entire defensive network to total chaos and slaughtering every enemy who dared to resist.
Meanwhile, the White Scars had poured through the breaches they tore open, thoroughly sweeping away the remaining forces.
He was completely alone now.
"You may surrender now."
The Lion's voice echoed, serene and majestic, like a judgment descending from the heavens from which no heretic could escape.
"Now, tell me everything you know about my traitorous brother, Lorgar Aurelian. Do so, and you may eke out a breath of life for a short while longer, rather than being swiftly destroyed by me here, or subjected to far more pointless tortures."
'It's over.'
'It's all over now.'
An extraordinarily awkward smile appeared on Erebus's face.
His malevolent mind began to work at an unprecedented speed.
Erebus was thinking frantically: 'What kind of secret could I reveal right now to allow me—the prime traitor of the entire galaxy, one of the indirect instigators of the Horus Heresy, a Chaos Priest hated by countless millions—to barely cling to life?'
However, before he could speak a single word—
An abrupt change occurred.
The Lion's eyes shifted instantly, and the Risen behind him tensed up almost simultaneously.
Everyone's gaze locked dead onto Erebus.
More precisely, locked onto the change occurring on his body.
An alien, unnatural sensation flickered across the Chaos Priest.
So dense.
So foul.
Billowing smoke rose from Erebus's body.
The Chaos runes crawling all over his face seemed to come alive at this instant, embedding themselves deep into his flesh like countless black vipers.
Erebus's body twitched violently. His mouth gaped open, and his pupils dilated and trembled wildly.
Shock.
Despair.
Incredulity.
He seemed to have realized something—realized how his Primarch truly regarded him.
Yet even Erebus, the mastermind who had toyed with the entire galaxy, was completely powerless at this moment.
Soon, the smoke slowly dispersed.
"Erebus"—no, he should now be called by another name far better known to the galaxy.
"Why not ask the man himself directly, my brother?"
A voice sounded, as if the scent of scriptures burning in flames drifted forth.
It was the voice of the Master of the Word Bearers, the Primarch of the XVII Legion, the author of the 'Book of Lorgar', the Arch-Heretic, the Daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided.
In other words—Lorgar Aurelian.
A divine yet hollow flame burned within his eyes.
He slowly raised his gaze toward the sword-and-shield-bearing Lion El'Jonson, whose face brimmed with lethal intent.
"Hello, Lion El'Jonson. It has been a long time."
Lorgar's voice carried an unnatural calm and weariness. "It seems a very long time has passed since our parting in the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, hasn't it?"
"Heh."
The knuckles of the hand Lion used to grip his sword tightened, emitting a sharp cracking sound.
His expression showed little emotion, but the icy killing intent rising from the depths of his soul made the surrounding air hum sharply.
"I truly did not expect to see you here, Lorgar!" the Lion said grimly.
The next moment, he took a massive step forward.
Lorgar remained calm. He made no other move, merely watching the Lion advance toward him.
Very quickly, the distance between the two Primarchs closed to an extremely dangerous range.
"Before we settle our score, let me ask one question."
The Lion stared directly at his former brother, his tone unmistakably hostile. "If I slay you in this state, you won't walk away completely unscathed, will you?"
"Of course not."
To everyone's surprise, Lorgar Aurelian answered this question—of obvious ill intent and self-evident meaning—with absolute calm.
"This is done through Warp sorcery and our bloodline connection, projecting my will into the body of my son. In theory, every Primarch is capable of doing this."
"However, through my research and refinements, this also includes bringing my Warp essence into his body along with my will. Which is to say, if you slay this Astartes vessel here, my true self will suffer an extremely severe blow."
"Of course, in exchange for paying such a price, this body can essentially draw upon most of my full, current strength."
Having said that, seeing that the Lion's expression remained completely unfazed, Lorgar was clearly a bit surprised, a flicker of astonishment passing over his face.
He evidently did not realize that his opponent was already familiar with the concept of a Primarch's Warp essence.
However, Lorgar quickly recovered and gave a faint smile. "So you know as well. How surprising."
"Is that so? Then—"
The Lion nodded, as if thoroughly satisfied with the answer.
And then, before his words could even finish echoing—
Like a streak of lightning, the Sword of Fealty unsheathed from the Lion's waist in an instant, thrusting straight forward!
The swordplay was razor-sharp, blindingly fast, and completely without warning!
"Die!"