The void of this daemon world had almost fused into one with the Warp itself, as Chaos seeped everywhere without restraint.
Upside-down, twisted mountain ranges "grew" from the heavens, stretching from the high sky all the way down to the surface.
Hoarse, screeching daemons swarmed along the mountains, scrambling downward at breakneck speed like a tidal wave pouring out of the sky.
Led by Greater Daemons, they set foot upon a surface paved in flesh and charged toward the dueling arena.
"The Gods' army is here…"
"That cursed, abominable existence has lost its chance to leave!"
Inside the arena, the Chaos daemons grew excited. They suddenly felt confident again, staring at the Savior and the others with restless hunger.
They were still intimidated by the Savior's pressure and did not dare to attack immediately, remaining in a wait-and-see posture.
But the moment the enemy fell into a disadvantage, every Chaos entity would surge forward as one.
"So this is the Gods' plan? You think these daemon hordes can kill us?!" Eden looked at the scene and, instead of tensing, actually relaxed.
Just a moment ago, he had truly thought the Terror itself had come knocking. His battle plan still wasn't ready—if he met that thing now, it would be trouble.
Fulgrim sneered, savoring a sense of vindictive pleasure.
"You hypocrites. These daemons cannot kill you, but they can hold you here.
"Once Vostoniya's corruption array finishes expanding, the beasts the Gods have deployed will tear apart the Imperium's armed forces across the entire Misty Sector.
"Even if you manage to get out, all you'll see is death and ruin—again and again."
"Thank you for the reminder. Do you know why heretics like you lose so easily? Because you talk too much and can't keep your mouth shut.
"With your attitude, you're going to end up a clown."
Eden tossed the Fallen Phoenix onto the ground and casually layered several more psychic bindings over him to prevent any accidents.
"So what if you know?
"Warp daemons are endless. As long as the daemons keep invading this daemon world, you will never be able to leave…"
"Damn you!!!"
Fulgrim raged on, but before long he grew even angrier—because the Savior formed a soundproof psychic barrier, cutting off his voice completely.
The Fallen Phoenix no longer spoke. He simply stared with venom, wanting to witness the Savior's failure with his own eyes.
He wanted the Misty Sector to drown in Chaos corrosion.
"Finally. Some peace and quiet." Eden ignored Fulgrim and began dealing with the immediate problem.
The Fallen Phoenix wasn't wrong. Eden truly didn't have much time to waste.
The Chaos Gods were watching every movement here, wary that this so-called Savior might disrupt Their plans.
Bzzzt—
Roboute Guilliman's Warp essence ran at full output. Blue arcs of electricity raged across him, and storm-lightning flashed in his eyes.
"Brother Eden, the Lord of Iron and I will hold back the daemons. You find a chance to leave Oleincis and destroy the beast the Gods have unleashed."
His resolve was absolute.
"You don't need to worry. I can keep fighting.
"Until every daemon is destroyed!"
After awakening his Warp essence, the Master of Ultramar's stamina and resistance had become even greater.
Even when struck, he would not easily fall. He could force through most traps.
Put simply, he was sturdier now—able to step on more traps—with inexhaustible, ox-like strength running through him.
Perturabo nodded, agreeing with Guilliman's decision.
"I will fight alongside Roboute. We'll find a way to leave afterward."
"No need. I've got a better way to handle this."
Eden's psychic perception caught something, and joy flashed in his heart.
He looked toward a certain region.
"That bunch arrived a bit late, but their timing is perfect. This solves our problem."
As his words fell, the void in that region rippled—and then a piercing siren sounded.
Familiar to the point of absurdity.
It was the urgent wail of an ambulance siren from Eden's previous life.
Whoosh—
A thirteen-meter-long heavy white "Falcon" vehicle, its hull carved with sacred sigils, burst out of the void. A clear insignia of medical Sisters was emblazoned on its body.
Once the White Falcon heavy carrier reached the area, an elite force poured out in a dark tide.
Custodian Wardens veterans, White Scars rapid assault troops, senior psykers, medicae sages, Hospitaller Sisters—everything was there.
It was the stretcher team Eden had previously assembled for Guilliman.
"Your Majesty, Savior!"
The Custodes veterans, White Scars warriors, and others saw Eden and the primarchs and dropped to one knee in shame.
They had failed to fulfill their duty, unable to rescue the Master of Ultramar in time from Chaos.
"That was not your fault—and besides, you came at exactly the right moment."
Eden did not blame them. Oleincis, a daemon world, had been sealed by the Chaos Gods.
For them to use a forbidden relic to find a seam and force their way in was already an extraordinary feat. Eden's investment had not been wasted.
Now, they could all get in the vehicle and run.
"We need to leave immediately. At most three minutes, and we'll be surrounded and attacked by the daemons."
Perturabo had been monitoring the daemon army and issued the warning.
The rescue carrier's interior space was limited, but it could still fit a few primarchs if they squeezed.
"Since the Chaos Gods have made their move, we should respond in kind. Courtesy demands reciprocity."
With a clear retreat route secured, Eden was no longer in a hurry.
He needed to crush Their arrogance and intimidate the daemons.
"Brother, I understand what you mean."
Perturabo ignored the wary looks of the Custodes. His Armour of Edicts abruptly extended data-cables, which stabbed into the White Falcon heavy carrier and interfaced with the special spatial relic inside.
Using the relic, he bypassed the Chaos blockade and established a new teleportation channel.
This was the Lord of Iron's authority—he could seize control of nearly any machine-made thing, and do it with terrifying speed.
He looked at the Savior.
"The coordinates of this region have already been transmitted to the Burning Heart. We can now employ the new weapon to strike the daemon host…"
"Good."
Eden nodded in satisfaction. Communicating with intelligent people was effortless—no extra explanation required.
Just as Perturabo assumed, Eden intended to use the Burning Heart's new weapon to let these daemons taste what "chemical weapons" felt like.
A little over ten seconds later, a super-heavy hover-platform dozens of meters long was deployed into the air. An Apocalypse missile launcher slowly elevated.
The launcher's racks were packed with a new weapon—Hell Missiles—more than a dozen in total.
Those abominable warheads radiated a presence that made even daemons wary.
"Grandfather, what is that?!"
"That damned, cursed one has forged another vicious weapon!"
In an instant, the daemons watching from the audience stands—those who had been itching to move—cried out.
Fear flickered in their eyes. This felt like a construct similar to the cursed one's weapons.
Boom, boom, boom—
The super-heavy hover-platform shuddered violently. All Hell Missiles launched at once, screaming off at supersonic speed toward the inverted mountains and the daemon host.
"Blood for the Blood God—stop that abominable daemon-eater!"
The former foremost terror of Khorne, the Deathbringer An'ggrath, thundered across the ground, iron hooves crushing flesh and stone alike. He charged at the very front of the Greater Daemons, utterly resolute.
This Deathbringer had been hung from the Brass Citadel to atone. He had fought desperately for a chance to redeem himself through merit, and his ferocity was absolute.
"I will stake my life to prove to the great Blood God the courage of the Unbound, the Guardian of the Throne of Skulls."
An'ggrath stared at the dueling arena, now almost within reach.
Other Greater Daemons might fear the daemon-eater, but he would not.
He had already prepared to fall.
It was not only An'ggrath. Many more Greater Daemons were the same—they had come as a suicide force.
They would do anything to pin down the daemon-eater, even at the cost of their lives.
This combined daemon host no longer feared death. They would not fear the daemon-eater either. Even if they died, their fangs and claws would leave wounds on him.
"That is… the daemon-eater's weapon?"
An'ggrath suddenly noticed something abnormal in the air. The Imperial platform radiated an abominable aura.
Cursed energy.
Then the abominable weapons were fired—rushing toward them.
"Hmph. The cursed one's weapons can't kill us anymore!"
An'ggrath felt no fear. Evil runes across his daemon body flared, spreading a blood-red mist.
The cursed one's weapons were indeed terrifying, but their harm could only last for an instant. As long as he resisted that instant, he could survive the blast.
Boom, boom, boom—
The Hell Missiles erupted within the daemon host's formation, releasing a sinister dark-golden radiance laced with a trace of crimson.
That light swallowed up vast numbers of Chaos daemons.
"Why is the color of this weapon… different?!"
When the dazzling glow faded, An'ggrath endured the agony in his body and exhaled.
He had survived.
But in the next moment, he realized something was wrong.
Strange corpse-lights still drifted in the air. The ground was coated in warped filth.
That daemon-eater's weapon looked more like a Chaos attack.
Bzzzt—
An'ggrath's daemon flesh was tainted by the corpse-lights. The contaminated area ignited with faint flame, then began to rot and collapse, swelling with grotesque pustules as an unprecedented pain crashed over him.
It cut into the soul.
The Hell Missiles were even more terrifying than holy ash shells. Though they were not as strong as ash shells—lacking the power to annihilate a soul—they inflicted far greater torment upon daemons.
Aaaaaaagh—!
That former foremost Greater Daemon, the Deathbringer, screamed in agony. His daemon body spasmed out of control and crashed to the ground.
And the fall only smeared him with more contamination, spawning deeper corrosion and pain.
He surged into the sky in his suffering—but the air held even more pollution. Corrosion and agony were everywhere, with nowhere to flee.
An'ggrath lost consciousness in the torment and slammed back down, and even in unconsciousness his daemon body continued to convulse.
A Greater Daemon of Khorne ranked among the foremost could not endure the corrosive contamination of the Hell Missiles.
As for the ordinary Chaos daemons, it was even worse.
Though many were not struck directly like An'ggrath, countless still died on the spot.
Some howled in pain. Others passed out under torture. Under the pollutants' influence, they warped—limbs almost melting together into sticky masses.
"Pain… it hurts too much… kill me… destroy my soul!"
A Greater Daemon of Slaanesh, struck directly within the contamination's core, wailed as it convulsed.
Even the Dark Prince's favored could not withstand such torment.
"It stinks… it stinks… w-w-waaah…!"
A Greater Daemon of Nurgle, a mountain of meat, was covered in contaminated flames that could not be extinguished, and it reeked with a stench beyond endurance.
More tumors grew across its body—growths that were not its own. Even the maggots within twisted and mutated, tearing at flesh in a frenzy.
That Greater Daemon of Nurgle wept in misery, slapping at the maggots gnawing it.
It had never experienced a contamination so horrifying—viral filth mixed with cursed energy.
At this moment, the battlefield was filled with the daemons' misery and their agonized howls.
At the rift entrance of the inverted mountain, the invading daemons stopped.
They stared at the contaminated zone and at the suffering of their kin, and did not dare step inside.
Every daemon that rushed into that area was corroded by the lingering contamination of the abominable weapon.
The formless terror of the daemon-eater descended upon them. The daemons tasted the pain, torment, and despair humans felt when corrupted.
The massed howls carried into the Warp, shaking the tides of Chaos.
The Gods watched—and fell silent.
This was the Savior's counterattack. That existence had gained yet another means to threaten daemons.
Afterward, the Warp's True Gods sealed off all screams and all news, to prevent this dreadful scene from spreading fear among the daemons.
Their only consolation was that the Savior did not possess many such weapons—and that it was difficult for him to strike into the Warp itself.
Not long after, the Chaos Gods expended even more warp-power, projecting it into a certain dreadful shadow.
In response, They would also exact revenge.
…
Inside the dueling arena, silence fell.
The daemons in the audience stands trembled all over. Some quietly tossed aside their weapons, then obediently squatted down with hands clasped behind their heads.
They knew that whenever the Savior captured heretics and traitors, he always demanded they do exactly this.
After seeing the fate of their kin, these daemons became obedient—each more than the last.
"Truly a fine thing. The only flaw is that it's expensive, and production can't scale."
Eden looked at the battlefield blanketed in contamination and nodded with satisfaction.
Chemical weapons like Hell Missiles were cruel—but extraordinarily effective. They were even better at intimidating daemons than holy ash shells.
That radiation-like contamination that seeped into the soul would cling to daemons for a long, long time.
When Warp entities saw these miserable victims, they would naturally think of the Savior's horror.
And fear him.
That fear would bring Eden an unending supply of warp-tainted faith.
"Brother Eden—how many of these weapons do we have left?!"
Guilliman took a long moment to recover. He pressed both hands to the Savior's shoulders, fervent with excitement.
He understood deeply what such a weapon meant for humanity.
"About half, I'd say.
"We're still in the validation phase. Output isn't there yet, so it can't support large-scale war."
Eden spoke plainly, though he felt some regret.
If only the production capacity were higher—how wonderful that would be.
"Hm. These Hell Missiles can cause severe ecological damage to the Chaos realms, and they can inflict long-term attrition on daemons, creating losses and reducing their effective strength.
"A terrifying weapon…"
Perturabo stared at the data being collected, visibly shaken.
"That's only what Chaos has always done to us. I believe this will be reversed. Before long, the balance will shift!"
Eden let out a cold laugh.
"Hell Missiles still can't be mass-produced, but they can already harm the Chaos realms in no small measure.
"Soon, I will organize a Grey Knights kill-team specialized in infiltration. They will carry Hell Missiles and strike at Chaos domains everywhere—sowing panic and fear.
"That will be humanity's holy and righteous blow!"
Of course, put bluntly, it was terror attacks—long-term operations to cultivate the Savior's terror throughout the Chaos realms.
Eden's thoughts raced.
But the most urgent matter was still to deal with the beast the Gods had unleashed—the Terror.
After that, they squeezed into the White Falcon heavy carrier and left Oleincis.
As for the Burning Heart and the Burning Legion, they remained behind to subjugate this daemon world.
It would become humanity's bridgehead for future assaults into the Warp—the Chaos realms themselves.
—
Dreamweaver.
War Council Chamber.
The primarchs gathered together as a holographic projector cast a twisted shadow into the air, surrounded by numerous shipwrecks.
"You're saying the opponent you faced wasn't Angron?"
Eden stared at Lion El'Jonson, his expression grave.
According to the Lion, the foe he met was Luther—the First of the Fallen—after daemonic corruption, not Angron.
He had granted that fallen angel, that corrupted old friend, release.
"Angron never appeared at any point," Lion said. "Instead, it was the dreadful beast the Gods unleashed.
"That alone is suspicious."
Jaghatai Khan spoke with his usual bluntness.
"I also think it might've been Angron…"
Eden looked at the dreadful shadow and spoke slowly.
The Red Angel. The Breaker. The Eater of Worlds. The King of the Arena.
Those titles alone were enough to establish Angron as the galaxy's angriest, most ferocious, most brutal champion of single combat.
Of course, that was before.
Now the champion of single combat was Eden—the Savior.
Still, he had every reason to believe the Chaos Gods would choose Angron as their weapon and grant him terrifying power.
They would cultivate a Chaos individual even stronger than Horus.
After all, Angron was immensely strong—and he had little mind left. Controllable enough to be deployed as a weapon.
If they could confirm the identity of that Terror, that beast, they could craft a targeted battle plan.
"But it doesn't look like him either. Can you tell he's Angron?"
Eden studied the projection a few more times, puzzled.
That shadow looked more like a fusion of multiple Greater Daemons, forcibly kneaded together into one thing—something that chilled the bones.
Hearing the Savior's question, the primarchs all shook their heads.
They couldn't tell either.
Beep—
Then Eden received a top-level alert.
The dreadful beast released by the Chaos Gods was attacking Vostoniya's capital. The nearby Imperial fleet had been annihilated, and more forces had already withdrawn to safe zones.
At present, one Custodes reconnaissance squad remained stranded—within Decius Hive on the capital world.
But after their final message, they went silent and were listed as missing.
Eden swept his eyes over the report and snapped his head up.
"Brothers. It's time to move."
(End of Chapter)
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