Taviz's Steadfast Defense

It was impossible for these people not to be tempted by the immense power of sonic weapons.

Although they could keep pace with other companies, they knew the Primarch's gaze was always on the Legion's progress. If they consistently lagged behind in future wars, it would undoubtedly displease Fulgrim with their performance.

But Taviz had his own principles, and the Emperor's Children should have theirs.

The skies of Ithaca were stained a sickly orange-red by continuous orbital bombardment and ground explosions. The air was thick with the mingled scent of gunpowder and scorched flesh.

Sandman emerged from a higher dimensional perspective, walking through this inferno. His presence was like an invisible singularity; death whispered and circled around him, yet remained firmly bound.

His psychic senses, like an invisible spiderweb, covered the entire planet. Two starkly different war scenarios unfolded clearly in his consciousness.

To his left were the main forces of the Emperor's Children Legion, equipped with immensely powerful sonic weapons. With every shot from these weapons, enemy flesh and steel armor alike would be crushed into bloody mist and metallic dust, like a sandcastle pulverized by an unseen giant.

Their advance was swift and ruthless, akin to a precise surgical operation, leaving only utter, non-corporeal destruction in their wake, with barely even the dregs of souls remaining.

To his right, the battle appeared "traditional" and brutal.

The Tenth Company, led by Captain Taviz, did not employ those efficient sonic weapons, relying instead on bolters, chainswords, and meltaguns.

Their combat was close-quarters, savage, a symphony of gunpowder and clashing steel. Enemies indeed fell before them, but the warriors of the Tenth Company also paid the price in blood and life.

Their advance was slow, each step soaked in the blood of the Emperor's Children, but the ground they cleared carried a comforting "realness."

"It's time to see if these warriors still hold onto the justice in their hearts," Sandman murmured, then his form vanished abruptly from where he stood.

Sandman's figure appeared like a phantom behind the Tenth Company's front lines. He didn't alert anyone until, during a brief lull in the fighting, Taviz instinctively felt a chill emanating from the very essence of existence.

The Captain spun around sharply, bolter already raised, but when he met those deep, black-hole-like eyes, he froze. It wasn't fear, but a reverence akin to facing the laws of nature.

"Who are you?" Taviz's voice, rough with post-battle exertion and utmost vigilance, came through the helmet's vox.

As Captain of the Tenth Company, his guard must have been formidable, yet this person had managed to approach him so silently.

"An observer," Sandman's voice was calm, resonating directly in Taviz's mind, drowning out the surrounding artillery fire.

"Here to assess the Imperium's chronic ailments, and... its still-healthy flesh." A seat formed of psychic energy materialized directly behind Sandman.

"Please, sit. No one here will notice. It will only take a few seconds of your time." Sandman immediately took the initiative, and at the same time, a black seat suddenly appeared behind Taviz.

Taviz remained silent, but his mind frantically cycled through communication channels within his power armor, attempting to contact the outside.

"No need to try. This is another world. I've transferred your soul and consciousness here directly. Your physical body remains outside. If I intended you harm, I wouldn't need to go to such trouble, would I?" Sandman didn't stop Taviz's actions; instead, he offered a reminder.

"Who exactly are you!" Taviz sat down boldly. Since all communication methods were ineffective, he might as well hear the other party's purpose.

"Who I am is not important. What's important is that I've discovered a very troubling situation within the Emperor's Children. The high echelons of the Imperium need to know if the Emperor's Children still maintain their loyalty to the Emperor, and their loyalty to the human race," Sandman began slowly.

"You're here to investigate the sonic weapons!" Taviz instantly understood the other's intent. Although Sandman hadn't revealed his identity, his intuition told him that the other party held a high position.

"Why would I investigate something as trivial as sonic weapons? Answer my question, Taviz!" Sandman's eyes, as dark as black holes, stared intently at him.

An immense pressure settled upon Taviz, as if he were carrying a mountain on his back.

"I... am always... loyal... to... the Emperor, loyal... to... the human... race..." Sevatar stated firmly, word by word, under the immense pressure.

Sandman listened quietly. The concept of death allowed him to clearly perceive the "truthfulness" of Taviz's words.

The terrifying pressure Sandman exerted receded like a tide. Taviz gasped, as if surfacing from the deep sea. The muscles beneath his power armor remained tensed, but his gaze towards Sandman held not only reverence but also a flicker of unyielding defiance.

"Your soul did not lie under pressure, Captain Taviz," Sandman's voice returned to its previous calm. The psychic seat behind him quietly dissipated, and the surrounding illusory space rippled slightly, the flames and roar of the real battlefield faintly reappearing.

"But loyalty is not just a slogan; it must be tempered with action in the face of temptation, doubt, and pressure."

He waved his hand, and a psychic projection unfolded between them.

In the projection, the Emperor's Children companies using sonic weapons were shown, crushing the battlefield with astonishing efficiency, invincible. Enemy strongholds crumbled like sand towers under harmonic vibrations.

The angle was skillfully chosen to display the expressions of those warriors – a look of near-intoxication, lost in the destructive power itself.

"Look," Sandman pointed to the projection.

"This is efficiency. This is 'perfect' slaughter. Primarch Fulgrim admires this efficiency. Their names will undoubtedly be etched on the Legion's honor roll. And you and your Tenth Company?"

As the psychic projection shifted, it displayed a real-time scene of the Tenth Company fighting valiantly. They used bolters for precise shots, chainswords for close-quarters combat, and their lives and blood to seize ground inch by bloody inch.

In the scene, a warrior, to shield his comrades, was hit by enemy heavy weapons, half his body instantly turning into bloody mist, yet his remaining arm still tightly gripped the bolter's trigger.

"Slow advance, heavy casualties. In the Primarch's eyes, this might be proof of 'backwardness' and 'stubbornness.' Tell me, Taviz, watching your brothers fall because of your persistence, watching other companies enjoy victory and glory, have you... and your warriors, truly never been tempted by that power?"

Taviz's fists clenched suddenly, his knuckles cracking audibly beneath the power armor.

He stared at the brutal scene, his eyes filled with pain, but more so with a sense of desecrated anger.

"Tempted?" His voice was hoarse with emotion. "Yes, I admit it! That power is indeed immense. Any warrior would be... tempted by a more effective weapon of slaughter!"

He looked up abruptly, meeting Sandman's bottomless eyes, his tone becoming sharp: "But we are men! Astartes of the Emperor's glory! Not beasts who only pursue destructive efficiency! The sonic weapons promoted by the Primarch, they are changing us! Do you see? They are corrupting the souls of our warriors!"

He pointed at his compatriots in the holographic projection, their expressions enraptured, his voice trembling with heartbroken anguish: "They are reveling in destruction itself! This is wrong! It deviates from the Emperor's original intent in granting us this power! War is a means, a means to protect humanity and purify the galaxy, not... not to pursue this twisted 'perfect' art!"

His words landed like bolter rounds: "My brothers fall to defend the true glory of us Emperor's Children! To prove that even without those vile weapons, we can still win victory through courage, discipline, and sacrifice!

This victory may come slower, bloodier, but it is clean! It is real! It allows us to face our inner selves at night without shame of the Emperor's Children name!"

Taviz stepped forward. Though in a mental space, his presence was like that of a commander leading an army: "If the Primarch is displeased with us because of this, that is his judgment.

But I, Kasor Taviz, and every warrior of the Tenth Company, our loyalty belongs only to the Emperor on Terra, to the Imperium of Man! We are not rejecting progress; we are rejecting corruption! We are not insisting on backwardness; we are insisting on our principles!"

Sandman listened quietly. The fluctuations in the surrounding space completely subsided, and the clamor of the real battlefield once again reached Taviz's ears—the roar of bolters, the scream of chainswords, the shouts of warriors, and the death throes.

The cacophony, at this moment, seemed to become the most tragic background music for Taviz's oath.

After a long while, Sandman slowly spoke, a faint, almost appreciative trace flickering across his inhuman face.

"The bottom line..." he repeated the word, "As the Imperium faces an all-consuming tide of darkness, countless will abandon it for power, survival, or so-called 'truth.' Captain Taviz, you and your warriors uphold precisely the rarest and most precious qualities the Imperium now possesses."

His form began to blur, like mist about to dissipate. "Remember your words today. In the long history of the Imperium, stars like you are needed, shining a path even with faint light.

Continue to fight, in your own way. The Emperor and the High Lords will watch over you, and history will forever remember this loyalty."

As the words fell, Sandman's form vanished completely.

Taviz jolted, his consciousness returning to reality. He still stood on the war-torn battlements, his Bolter still held in a raised, alert stance. Everything that had just happened felt like a momentary daze.

But he could feel something deep within him becoming firmer.

He looked towards the distant land, shattered by sonic weaponry, then at his brothers fighting to the death beside him. Through the company channel, his voice clearly reached every warrior of the Tenth Company:

"For the Emperor! For Humanity! Advance! Let the enemy see what true Emperor's Children are!" Taviz issued the final marching order to the advancing companies on the battlefield!!

"You don't intend to seal Taviz's memories?" The Emperor did not fully understand Sandman's actions. Previously, he would always choose to seal their memories.

In the Emperor's eyes, Taviz and Lucius were merely tools. Sandman had ascended to godhood, so why did he always focus on such trivial details, especially when the Great Heresy was already inevitable?

What role could half a Legion of Emperor's Children play? In the Emperor's view, these individuals were not worth spending so much time on.

At the very least, they were not worth Sandman wasting his time.

"Neos, this is the difference between you and me. You are the exalted Emperor, able to remain indifferent to the lives and deaths of the mortals below. To you, whether they are Primarchs or mortals, they are merely your pawns. You never even considered whether anyone was willing to help you with certain tasks. But that's just you. I, on the other hand, grew to this height from an ordinary mortal. But I will not forget the hardships of mortals, nor forget how rare and precious loyalty is," Sandman said nonchalantly.

In his eyes, the Emperor remained the Emperor, and he remained himself. Neither was right or wrong; they simply had different perspectives.

"Alright, I won't chat with you any longer. I'm going to check on Fulgrim and see what that guy is up to. His Legion is on campaign, yet he's nowhere to be seen. What is he doing on his flagship?" After saying this, Sandman's consciousness returned to the material universe.

On the battlefield, Sandman cast his perception towards the opulent flagship of the Emperor's Children Legion, the 'Emperor's Pride.'

His gaze pierced through layers of obstacles – nebulae, the warship's armor, the lavish decorations on Fulgrim's flagship, and its layered energy shields were all powerless to stop him. He would be an absolutely still, trans-dimensional observer.

His sight fell upon Fulgrim's private palace within the flagship, a space of extreme luxury, akin to an art hall.

Fulgrim's flawless body was like a sculpture of a classical deity, but at this moment, this sculpture was shrouded in an indescribable, restless shadow.

The Phoenix of the Imperium paid no attention to the fierce battles raging on the planet Ithaca, nor did he show the slightest impatience for Taviz's company's 'backwardness.'

His entire focus was on the rapier he had captured from the Eldar. It was a slender, elegant, yet exuding an aura of noble luxury, purple rapier.

Sandman could clearly 'see' the distorted sword-light swirling around the blade. This was not mere bloodlust, but a more refined, more pathological energy – a craving for extreme sensory stimulation, a mad pursuit of 'perfect' form, and a soul-corroding poison hidden beneath its opulent exterior.

The essence of a Slaanesh Daemon Prince, like an invisible viper, coiled within the blade, whispering subtly with every resonance with the Primarch's spirit.

Fulgrim's movements lost their usual absolute control.

He was not practicing swordsmanship, but... dancing. The tip of the sword cut through the air, creating faint, irritating hums. The sound seemed to directly stimulate the deepest nerves of life.

His footwork was eerily light, each spin, each thrust, filled with an over-sculpted, dramatic aesthetic, as if not for actual combat, but to please an unseen audience, or... himself.

The eyes of the Phoenix of the Imperium, once burning with fervent belief in the Imperial Truth and human perfection, were now hazy and focused, closely following every trajectory of the blade. It was as if he were admiring a peerless work of art, or peering through the blade into a brilliant and dangerous realm incomprehensible to mortals.

Sandman saw Fulgrim pause occasionally, gently brushing the sword's spine with his gloved fingers. His brow would furrow slightly, as if resisting something, but that resistance melted away like ice in sunlight.

In its place was a deeper infatuation, and a growing sense of... dissatisfaction with his original martial skills, and even his very way of existence.

The Primarch seemed to be pursuing a sword technique that transcended physical laws, purely belonging to 'form' and 'feeling.' In his hands, the rapier was no longer just a weapon, but more like a mentor, a tempter, guiding him towards an abyss where only extreme experience was real.

Sandman observed quietly.

He saw Fulgrim, after a swift thrust, the tip of the sword trembling, emitting a sonic wave that shattered a delicate vase in the distance into countless uniform fragments, like crystalline dust.

Fulgrim looked at the scattering dust, a smile of... pleasure appearing on his face, not surprise. It was an appreciation for the 'beauty' of destruction.

Sandman did not linger.

Fulgrim's path was clear. The Slaaneshi whispers hidden within the sword were leading this perfection-seeking Primarch step by step towards eternal damnation.

The bloody battles of Taviz and his loyalists below, contrasted with their Primarch's elegant and dangerous dance of corruption on the flagship, formed the most tragic juxtaposition.

Sandman's gaze receded like a tide, leaving Fulgrim to continue his dance in his palace with the rapier destined to drag him and his entire Legion into darkness.

As Fulgrim danced, a unique purple ripple began to spread across the entire Emperor's Children Legion from the fighting on the ground.

Thus, Slaanesh finally completed its plan for the Emperor's Children Legion. The high-dimensional sight of the Emperor and Sandman was completely obscured.