"Abaddon" was held firmly in place by two Blessed Dreadnoughts, his mechanical arm being torn off.
"Traitor — ready to go die alongside your repulsive father?"
"Maybe you can even catch up with him. He hasn't been gone long. You shouldn't have to walk the road alone."
"Your whole Legion will be joining you on that road too. Just remember to walk slow — there are still a few traitors who haven't died yet, and you wouldn't want to miss them by walking too fast."
Jubah-Khan strode up to "Abaddon" with blade in hand. The massive Dreadnought frame struggled desperately to rise but was pinned firmly under the feet of the two Blessed Dreadnoughts, a heavy bolt cannon leveled at his sarcophagus.
But at that exact moment, "Abaddon" vanished again — leaving the assembled Obliterators and Astartes completely dumbfounded.
Wait — where did the Dreadnought go? How does something that big just disappear?
"Jubah, where did he go?"
Ladoron was at a loss. A living, breathing Dreadnought just doesn't vanish like that.
"You're asking me? I want to know too! A Dreadnought that size just gone — I don't know if Father will even believe us when we report this."
Of course he wouldn't believe it. Even the Obliterators didn't believe it.
"How are things on your end?"
The Khan's voice came through over the comm.
"Father, 'Abaddon' was extracted by his Legion's psykers. The method was bizarre."
"Forget about him for now. Prepare to withdraw. This warship is being scheduled for destruction. We have other matters to handle."
"Yes, my lord."
Ladoron looked at Jubah-Khan and could tell he'd received similar instructions from the Khan.
"Let's get out of here first."
The two exchanged a glance and decided to withdraw — though both privately resolved that next time, they wouldn't be so wordy with traitors. Decisiveness was the way to go from now on.
"Are you confident you can finish this traitor for good, Lion?"
Aboard the Razor of Truth, Lion and the others had gathered, looking at the solar system ahead with mounting unease.
The traitors had lost their Chaos blessings, but they were still formidable — especially ones like "Lion" and "Roboute." They were nothing like "Horus," who had been pumped full of Chaos like a stuffed cream puff.
Lion's black sword stood planted on the deck, his fingers tracing lightly along the hilt.
"I will win. The other traitors are up to the rest of you."
"As long as you're confident, that's good enough."
Russ knew that Lion wasn't actually confident — but he also knew Lion would settle this traitor, by whatever means necessary.
Angron could sense both Lion's resolve and his uncertainty. He'd thought about suggesting they slow the pace of attack, but Lion was too proud a man — Angron knew that even if he tried to persuade him, it likely wouldn't matter.
"Why don't we just deal with the other traitors first and save this Dark Knight for last? Feels safer that way."
Magnus had a simpler way of thinking. Brilliant as he was, his emotional intelligence left something to be desired — he simply said aloud the suggestion that Russ and Angron had been reluctant to voice.
"No need. We go together. He'll run regardless — no one can stop him from running if he wants to. I'm the only one he'll actually agree to fight to the death."
This was exactly what worried Lion. Like that traitor, he could force passage through the Webway. Abilities like theirs could only be stopped by someone on the level of the Emperor or Perturabo — otherwise, if they wanted to leave, nothing could hold them.
"Fine then. Be careful. This 'you' is nothing like the other traitors we've faced."
Magnus was genuinely worried for his brother.
"Don't worry. I'll handle him."
Lion had always carried himself with absolute confidence — even without certainty he could take down this traitor, he was certain he would not lose.
"Then let's begin. I'll take point — I haven't crossed blades with 'Corax' yet. He should make for an interesting opponent."
"I think I should be the one. His shadow-walking means nothing to me. He can't hide from me."
The Death's Shadow was no joke — most of the atrocities witnessed across this universe had been the work of the Undying Dragon and the Death's Shadow combined.
Fortunately that dragon had already been dealt with, or settling him would have taken considerably more effort.
"He'd better be able to take my axes."
Angron patted the two phase axes at his hip. He'd been wanting to try new weapons lately, so he'd switched them out again — he wanted to test every weapon available to find the ones with the best feel.
"Then it's yours. Just make sure you hit hard. Every last one of those vermin deserves to be chopped into mincemeat, no exceptions."
"I'll handle it. Don't worry."
Angron grinned wide.
The two scholars who had once been the most reserved of all were now, in this moment, more savage than any beast.
"Alright, enough banter. Be careful, all of you. These traitors' last-ditch efforts before death are never simple. Bring plenty of Obliterators, just in case."
"Understood."
Angron and Magnus offered no objection — they trusted Lion's strength and his strategy well enough.
"I'll begin my assault from the Lunar side. Once I've finished there, I'll come help you."
Russ said nothing more. The two black-gloved brothers had already reached their wordless understanding.
To outsiders, Lion and Russ never seemed to get along — but in truth their relationship was quite solid, and even their two Legions maintained good private ties behind the scenes.
"Then let's begin the war. I can feel it — he's already waiting for me."
At Lion's command, the Invincible Fleet surrounded the entire solar system and launched its assault.
The massive star-fortresses surged at the front, their savage barrage warping gravity across every planet in the system in varying degrees.
And bearing the heaviest brunt of it all was Terra itself — this world, layered and re-fortified countless times over by the Dark Angels into an impenetrable iron drum, had become a colossal war fortress.
A massive planetary shield enveloped Terra's surface instantly. Even with six star-fortresses maintaining continuous bombardment, they could not crack even the faintest breach in a short span of time.
"Prepare for the landing assault."
Lion could already feel it — he was waiting for him. This battle was destined to be anything but easy.
Massive drop pods began plunging from orbit. Enormous Titans were deployed one after another, Knight suits following in organized waves.
Terra's sallow sky erupted in a meteor shower, raining down densely upon the giant hive-cities and fortified bastions below.
Anti-air batteries and missile defense systems worked ceaselessly to intercept the descending Titans and Knights, but it made no real difference.
The Obliterators were simply too numerous. Even "Lion" had to admit that no matter how much preparation had gone into defending the solar system and Terra, it amounted, in blunt terms, to little more than a dying struggle.
This war was unwinnable. The Obliterators had stretched the gap between the two sides too far, and with the power of Chaos locked away by the Emperor and Perturabo, they no longer had the resources to compete with the Imperium at all.
This galaxy had been mired in instability and rebellion ever since the moment the Eye of Terror was torn open. That chaos was originally what the Chaos Gods had wanted to see — but now it had become the most fatal vulnerability in this entire war.
The Imperial fleet had conquered fortress world after fortress world without effort. Even though their fleet was formidable beyond measure, watching it dismantle the entire galaxy in barely five years cut deeply into "Lion's" pride.
The defenses he had believed could at least hold the Imperium at bay had turned out to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience in their eyes.
This struck at "Lion's" deep-seated pride. For a moment, he doubted himself. What had this rebellion actually brought him?
The Warmaster's title? The power he now held on his throne?
He'd gained neither, in truth. The Imperium had been shattered. His brothers had become a collection of madmen. Only "Guilliman" remained truly loyal to him.
"Dorn" had been deceived by him, and in the end had died at his own hands. Almost nothing he had done over these years had gone the way he wanted.
It was far less freeing than simply being First Legion's master within the Imperium, as he once had been.
If he hadn't been deceived by Chaos so prematurely during the extermination at Rangdan, would he have ended up like this?
"Lion" thought through all of this in an instant, then cast it from his mind. What was done was done. There was no going back.
The Lion never regretted what he had already done. He would not allow himself to make mistakes — and even if he had erred, he would never admit it, only quietly correct course afterward.
In this respect, he was eerily similar to the Emperor — practically carved from the same mold.
Lorgar resembled the Emperor in appearance. The little horse — Magnus — had inherited the Emperor's psychic gifts. Perturabo and Ferrus had inherited the bulk of his talent for science and engineering. Sanguinius and Fulgrim had inherited his charisma. But none of them could truly be said to resemble the Emperor.
Only the Lion — the First Primarch — was the one son the Emperor had ever truly, unreservedly entrusted with his complete trust. This was something even the Emperor himself had probably never fully realized.
In fact, the Lion could almost be called the Emperor's mirror — though he lacked the Emperor's scientific genius and raw power, and his temperament leaned far more toward darkness and secrecy.
"Lion" had been corrupted in his thinking too early, leading him to ultimately turn against the Emperor — and compared to "Horus's" rebellion, everyone's reaction to this betrayal had been even more violent.
Because every Primarch knew this: of all of them, the Lion was the one Primarch least likely to ever betray. Even Dorn had believed that.
But "Lion"—
He suddenly seemed to sense something, rising from his throne, his sharp gaze fixed ahead.
There stretched a dim and shadowed forest — silent, dark, fathomless, as though concealing endless horrors within.
Lion emerged slowly from within it, holding the black sword and the Emperor's own shield. He had not chosen the phase weapons Perturabo had gifted him, but rather this unassuming black sword and the shield the Emperor himself had once forged.
He would use these to end "himself."
"Lion" wasted no words either, drawing the longsword and chain-sword from his hip. The two looked at each other in silence.
No words. No prelude. The battle simply erupted.
The black sword and the longsword clashed together — after a brief moment of contested force, thousands of strikes flickered past in an instant.
Already the Emperor's shield bore the marks of the chain-sword's bite.
Both of them simultaneously invoked their ability to walk between the worlds, opening a battlefield in another dimension of the Warp.
Two dark, deathly-silent forests, each shedding countless trees with every passing moment, as though two great beasts were carving indelible scars into the woodland with every blow.
"I look forward to your screams, 'brother.'"
The Death's Shadow studied the towering Lord of Red Sands before him — that face, twisted by Chaos and slaughter into a mask of vicious cruelty.
"I thought Magnus's warning had already been conservative enough. I didn't realize he'd still managed to undersell how monstrous you've become."
Angron looked at the utterly transformed "Corax" before him, finding it almost unimaginable that this was once the Lord of Ravens — the one who resisted every injustice and oppression, who wished to bring hope to all.
"I will not cleanse your sins, traitor."
The force field on Angron's phase axe surged to full power.
"I will exterminate every piece of human garbage, you included — your Legion right along with you. None of you walk away from this. I swear it."
"Then let's see if you have what it takes."
The Death's Shadow vanished before he'd even finished speaking. The next instant, a lightning claw lunged from behind Angron.
But Angron blocked the attack instantly, his left arm surging with force, the phase axe driving directly toward "Corax's" skull. Just as the axe was about to land, the Death's Shadow dissolved into a flock of ravens and disappeared.
He wanted to toy with the Lord of Red Sands here — but Angron had already seen through the trick.
The Obliterators received the order instantly. The "Raven Guard" were slaughtered with brutal speed. Kharn, alongside Gill and Lorek, tore through the boarding action in a frenzy, blood and severed heads filling the Shadow of Death.
But compared to the sins of this once Queen of Glory, this scene was nothing remarkable at all.
"Guilliman" had held the lunar position throughout. The "Ultramarines" were second in strength only to the "Dark Angels." "Lion" had given this brother — who had once saved his life — the deepest possible trust.
"Your betrayal really was always going to be the most dangerous, 'Guilliman.' And just as everyone expected, you turned traitor without fail."
Russ looked at the "brother" before him, none of his usual playfulness present. The Chaos blade did not allow him a moment's ease.
"My Five Hundred Worlds were destroyed by all of you. This is the price for that. The false Emperor and his pack of hypocrites all deserved to die."
"And is this what you wanted as the result? If you wanted revenge, you could have done it like the 'Roboute' in the other galaxy. Instead you chose the most contemptible path of all."
"Talk solves nothing. Come."
"Guilliman" had no further interest in speaking with these "brothers." There was no path back — this was a fight to the death, plain and simple.
Russ let out a sigh. In the end, drawing swords was unavoidable.
The Spear of Dionysus and the phase sword struck at "Guilliman" in an instant — if it had to be this way, then better to finish it quickly.
The Chaos blade showed no fear either, surging forward to engage Russ in close combat.
The Wolves had already broken into a melee with the "Ultramarines." Due to their numbers and abundance of close-combat brutes, the "Ultramarines" managed, even without Primaris augmentation or the other enhancement procedures, to briefly hold the Wolves back.
But that was the last of their highlights. The Wolves' raw ferocity and strength quickly reasserted dominance, and the Obliterators completed the encirclement of the "Ultramarines" at the same moment.
A brutal, decisive battle of annihilation had begun on the lunar surface.
"I expected you to come with the others, 'brothers' and all."
"Lion" said.
"This is between you and me."
The black sword met the longsword.
"I never imagined I had this kind of nobility and righteousness in me. You and I are both men who use any means necessary to achieve our ends — and yet somehow you abandoned that very method."
Lion said nothing, his hand moving through its motions with frightening steadiness.
"Is it because you're afraid I'll run? Is that it?"
"Lion" had guessed correctly at his own intention.
"Do you really think I would run too? Cast aside my dignity like a dying dog, flee like a coward, and hide myself away like some filthy rat?"
"You've already run once before."
"So this time, I absolutely will not run again!"
Anger flickered in "Lion's" eyes, but his hand remained just as steady.
Both of them shared one common trait — neither would ever allow emotion to disrupt his fighting.
After one exchange, the two separated briefly.
"I've heard the stories of what you've been up to over there."
Lion said, looking at "himself."
"Living like a complete and utter failure, with no honor and no dignity to your name."
"You know nothing. You've only seen a few one-sided fragments unfavorable to me and think you understand me."
"All I know is that you have ravaged the territory of our Imperium, and slaughtered the 'brothers' here who chose, even now, to remain loyal."
"You're nothing but a pitiful fool who let himself be deceived — an arrogant coward who will never own up to his mistakes."
"Lion" lunged before he'd even finished the sentence.
The burst of force in that instant was something most Primarchs could barely perceive, let alone react to.
But not Lion.
The Emperor's shield caught the attack precisely and absorbed the force, the black sword sweeping toward "himself's" skull with lightning speed.
"Lion" twisted his body in a way that defied any reasonable physical limit, narrowly evading the strike, and in the same motion swung the chain-sword backhanded toward Lion's abdomen.
The two dark forests flickered in and out of existence over Terra. Two beings who had awakened to their fundamental nature within the Warp turned Terra itself into their hunting ground, locked in a duel between beasts.
The Dark Angels weren't standing idle either — the Obliterators led the charge while they hung back, picking off targets, and dispatched squads on a massive scale to carry out assassination strikes against position after position.
The Iron Wings and Fear Wings stood locked in direct confrontation with every "Dark Angel" along the main front.
It wasn't that the "Dark Angels" didn't want to commit their main strength elsewhere — it was that the Obliterators left them no spare capacity to do so. The war had never been a fair fight from the very start.
In the depths of the Warp, two forests appeared.
Lion's black sword struck downward like a bolt of black lightning toward "himself's" head.
"Lion" raised his blade to parry — but in that instant the black sword accelerated, slicing through the Warp at an impossible angle, driving straight for his face.
"Lion" snapped his head back violently. The black blade grazed across his left cheek, blood spattering crimson onto the longsword in his grip.
Lion intended to press the advantage, but was driven back by a chain-sword strike coming in at an equally cunning angle. The two settled into another standoff.
"Your swordsmanship is exceptional. Looks like you've made real progress over there."
"Lion" was never one for excess words, but today he found himself unusually inclined to speak.
"But I already considered my own ending long before I made my decision — death included."
"Come again, then. The outcome is still undecided."
"Lion" charged forward once more, and the two clashed again.
In this borderland between Chaos and reality, time held no meaning. They fought for a long while, each accumulating wound after wound.
Neither knew how much time had passed — perhaps only a minute, or perhaps a full year had already gone by in the outside world. The outcome of this war hinged entirely on whether either of them could overcome the other.
"You've grown weak. Chaos's influence on you runs deep. Without their power to draw on, your physical body has already reached its limit."
"In another ten minutes, I will finish you."
Lion's own condition wasn't good either, but compared to "himself" across from him, he held the clear advantage.
"There's no escape for you. This battle ends in your death. There will be no surprises."
"You're that confident you can kill me?"
"Lion" knew it was, in fact, already true — but his pride would not allow him to bow his head.
"It's not confidence. I'm simply stating a fact."
Not a trace of blood marked the black sword. It still flickered faintly with that barely visible light, illuminating Lion's resolute face.
This time, it was his turn to attack.
His speed and strength hadn't diminished, his strikes still sharp and pure — but "Lion" could no longer keep up. His body had reached the limit of what it could withstand under this intensity of combat.
Every clash tore his wounds further open, and gradually, openings began appearing in his technique.
Lion seized on this. He read every opening with precision, leaving more and more wounds across "himself's" body.
Finally, in the moment when the two forests had nearly merged into one, a blinding flash of light cut through the dark. "Lion's" consciousness had already begun to blur, aware only of a sudden, sharp pain through his chest.
He looked down. The black sword had punched clean through his chest. His life was draining away rapidly.
Unlike his brothers who had given themselves to the Four Gods, once he died, there would be no coming back.
The longsword and chain-sword had both been knocked away. His hand trembled slightly as it gripped the black blade.
The dark forest was collapsing now, gradually merging into Lion's own forest. Everything that was his was being stripped away.
"You won. But this time — I didn't run."
Lion gently drew the black sword free, watching "himself" collapse into the dark forest. He did not dissolve into a haze of Warp energy and disperse. He fell as flesh and blood, into the forest itself.
This was the resting place of the Beast of Caliban — and the final resting place of a knight.
Lion walked toward the exit leading back to the light. The battle was over. Now, it was time to return to reality.