Tzeentch:?

"Blood for the Blood God!"

It was the sound of an axe blade cleaving through steel.

"For the glory of Macragge!"

That was the sound of a sharp blade entering flesh, followed by a heavy object hitting the ground.

Squelch.

Blood sprayed outward. As the headless corpse of the heretic knelt on the ground and slumped forward powerlessly, increasingly fanatical roars erupted all around.

"Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!"

The heretic's blasphemous words grated against his eardrums. Cypheris watched in silence as yet another heretic leaped into the dueling pit before him.

He did not launch the first attack.

He was waiting for the stakes of this duel.

"There is nothing left; you have won it all, Champion."

The Khorne Terminator, nearly three meters tall, drew his twin axes. The chain-blades began to rotate, kicking up sparks.

Eight skulls, eight pairs of offerings, and one Champion who had passed the eightfold trials—the Blood God's domain had already opened its gates for him.

He could feel the eight lakes of blood within the endless Scarlet Wasteland boiling for him; the Blood God had already prepared eight wars for him, each sufficient to ascend his rank.

The desire to harvest this Champion's skull and let his blood flow over his own body echoed in his heart.

"Now, I shall take it all, along with your life!"

The traitor's voice was like thunder, much like the power pack fused to his body that was violently venting flames, symbolizing the warrior's boundless might.

He was in his prime.

Cypheris remembered clearly how those twin axe blades had struck from behind, tearing apart his comrade who was still holding off the Orks.

On the front of that blood-caked Cataphractii Terminator, there was still a jagged hole left by his comrade.

And as the enemy who had left that scar, the comrade's head was currently impaled on a spike extending from the traitor's back.

Cypheris remained silent, offering no roar against the injustice before him; he knew that traitors possessed no honor whatsoever.

He dragged his heavy power armor and raised his notched Power Sword once more.

"For the glory of Macragge!"

It was a bloody gladiatorial arena, the roars of warriors echoing within.

Severed limbs and arms were everywhere. Frenzied Void Rats were dragging mangled tissue into the tunnels. The corpse of a Deathwatch warrior had been impaled from the base of the spine to the crown of the head, stuck onto a high scaffold to serve as a guardrail. A viscous mixture of suspected brain matter and blood coated the surrounding steel like spiderwebs stretching through a jungle.

A thick, metallic stench of blood rushed toward them, and the crimson Warp miasma stained the entire base of the generator a deep red.

At the center of the arena, an Apothecary in white armor was struggling desperately.

Beside him, eight corpses of Chaos Space Marines lay in the pit.

He was severely wounded; his power pack had long since been ripped away, and there was a massive hole in his chest where both hearts had been shattered.

His opponent was a fully armed Khorne Terminator, standing nearly as tall as Arthur.

At first glance, Arthur noticed the Cataphractii Terminator in the center of the battlefield, dueling a heavily damaged Mk7 Space Marine while shielded by an energy field.

The Sisters of Battle, having caught up to the squad, watched the scene with eyes burning with explosive rage.

"Restrain yourselves, sisters! Form a perimeter!"

The Canoness gave a low command, and the twenty-six Sisters of Battle quickly dispersed, seeking ambush points.

"Doesn't the Blood God value honorable duels?"

Throwing out the question casually, Arthur, his eyes offended by the sight, flickered and pierced into the arena as if teleporting.

Anger could not solve problems, but slaughter could.

He would kill every one of these things that dared to challenge his values with evil rituals, sparing none.

"The Blood God doesn't care where the blood comes from."

Romulus looked at the carnage in the dueling pit and shook his head lightly, then remotely signaled the Ultramarines to begin pouring out fire while activating his external speakers.

"Seal the tunnels. Kill them all. Let no one escape."

The Ultramarines surrounding the pit moved in perfect unison. One hand flicked off the safety and clamped down on the trigger, while the other arm pressed firmly against the top of the bolter to negate the recoil. The Sisters of Battle switched to Melta weapons, using the explosions to seal off all potential escape routes in the lower sectors.

Gunfire and explosions instantly replaced the fanatical roars of the Chaos heretics. The many Chaos Space Marines who had just been gathered around the pile of corpses were turned into honeycombs by dense volleys of Bolter fire the moment they drew their blasphemous weapons.

The struggles of these heretics were as meaningless as the ritual that had been thoroughly destroyed within the dueling pit.

Bang!

Arthur descended from the sky, cleanly and decisively pressing a loyalist Plasma pistol against the Khorne Terminator's forehead.

But the Blood God's blessing allowed him to withstand the plasma that could melt anything. The Khorne Terminator simply leaned back to dissipate the impact, used his thick arm plating to forcibly parry the Power Sword thrusting toward his skull, and swung his twin axes toward Arthur.

A master.

This was the first enemy who could trade a round with Arthur.

His expression grew slightly solemn, his focus sharpening once more.

His blade parried a slash from the right, and he raised his shield to deflect a feint, intercepting a throwing axe aimed at the Apothecary who was attempting to complete the ritual. Arthur surged forward, sending the Khorne Terminator stumbling back.

"Lackey of the False Emperor, you..."

Ignoring the Khorne Terminator's furious roar, Arthur let go of his longsword, which was still locked in a struggle with the blessed axe blade. Having broken the stalemate, he closed the distance and threw a punch, his Plasteel-encased fist smashing heavily into the Khorne Terminator's already mutated skull.

Squelch!

The twisted head was sent flying by the blow, and a torrent of blood sprayed from the stump. The profane body, as if failing to realize its brain was already dead, remained frozen in its slashing posture.

Only then did Arthur step back, catching his Power Sword before it hit the ground and letting the axe blade graze past his chest plate.

Just as he completed this motion, the concentrated fire from Romulus and the others tore the surrounding hostile forces to shreds.

Even a Space Marine would have no chance of resistance when faced with such a sudden, overwhelming saturation of firepower.

The scarlet mist began to thin.

Anger! Anger!

In a realm where blood flows eternally, endless rage surged within the heart of the God of Slaughter.

A duel—a bloody duel—had been ruined.

Right under His very nose.

He had gained neither the skull of a Champion nor the servant who could have brought Him more skulls. The power He had projected vanished entirely along with the death of His servant; He had gained nothing and lost His investment to boot.

Who!

Khorne glared toward that sector of the realm. He could see the followers of the cursed ones and the corpses of His servants, yet no matter how He looked, He could not see the figure who had stolen His skulls.

Damn it, a scheme so infuriating that even a god felt vexed.

"Tzeentch!"

A flicker of a deep blue image crossed His thoughts, and the Blood God, seated upon the Brass Throne, let out a soul-shaking roar.

Since He could not find the culprit, He would make that deceiver who loved to shroud the truth pay the price!

Only slaughter could solve the problem!

As the Blood God's roar echoed, the great brass bells of the Scarlet Wasteland began to toll. Molten metal turned into a surging torrent, crushing skulls as it flowed into the eternally operating Slaughter Forge.

Steel Bulls, Blood Shrines, and countless creations forged from chaotic machinery and the souls of the slain began to charge out from the Skull Tower.

Even the abnormally viscous Red River, irrigated by eternal war and slaughter, thinned slightly. Countless butchers across the wasteland halted their blades, gazing with hungry, burning eyes at the Lord of Slaughter seated upon the Brass Throne.

"Blood for the Blood God!"

The Blood God's wrath is eternal; the Blood God's blades never rest.

There is only one reason that could bring an eternal duel to a halt.

That is a greater war!

"Skulls for the Skull Throne!!!"

Beneath the layered, blood-colored sky, the fully armed warriors erupted in a fanatical roar.

As the eighth bell tolled, the brass horns resounded throughout the realm of the Blood God.

888 Greater Daemons of Khorne, leading their demonic legions, began their march toward the deep blue Infinite Maze.

"?"

And as burning iron hooves shattered the walls of the kaleidoscopic maze, the twisted, amorphous entity seated atop a dry well finally opened its myriad eyes.

"Change."

It whispered, boundless ecstasy hidden within the clashing of countless teeth and lips.

It was as if the Khorne daemons rampaging through its realm were heavenly armies sent to its rescue.

"Hee hee, a war that was never foreseen!"