Horus: Azerkhel! I'll Kill You!

Hammer met hammer, Forgebreaker against Forgebreaker, and in an instant, a fierce gale howled into being.

Fulgrim was faster than Clone Horus. His Power Armor was lighter, more agile, and better suited to unleashing the speed granted by a primarch's transcendent physique.

Clone Horus, meanwhile, was more ferocious. His Power Armor was heavier and more powerful, and every swing of his warhammer was like the eye of a storm unleashing devastation.

Fulgrim leaped lightly aside, evading the fierce wind raised by Horus's heavy hammer. At the same time, the Forgebreaker Warhammer in his hand swept up a furnace-bright radiance and crashed down upon the opening Horus had exposed during his attack.

But Horus was Horus after all. Even if he was merely a clone, the combat instincts engraved into his genes still drove him to make the correct decision.

Horus did not dodge at all. Instead, he charged straight at Fulgrim like a reckless metal behemoth.

Forgebreaker slammed into Horus's body, its heavy head raising a glow like furnace fire. The heavy armor on Horus's body twisted and deformed, but Forgebreaker was also halted by Horus's enormous frame.

Clone Horus crashed into Fulgrim's embrace, and Worldbreaker Warhammer swung up from below, smashing toward Fulgrim's delicate chin.

Fulgrim was shaken by the savagery Horus displayed.

He looked into the Wolf God's eyes, hidden beneath layers of muscle, and seemed to see the manifestation of destructive power in the mortal realm.

Yet Fulgrim laughed. He felt his blood quickening, an indescribable exhilaration and joy erupting within his body.

Without hesitation, Fulgrim abandoned Forgebreaker Warhammer and freed his body. With speed far beyond mortal limits, he stepped back, the tip of his nose passing only millimeters from Horus's Worldbreaker Warhammer.

Then Fulgrim, barehanded, threw both fists.

Fists encased in violet-gold gauntlets rained down