57 Bloodied (End)

"Die!" Akurduana roared as he charged toward his only enemy, his Primarch.

A strong wind rose, dispersing the eerie clouds in the sky and bringing with it a power completely different from what was here. Extreme darkness quietly emerged from nothingness, silently swallowing the light as Akurduana charged forward.

The sea became still, its once shimmering surface now pitch black. The sky was cloudless, yet not a single ray of light fell; only darkness and an extreme force beyond reason prevailed.

Akurduana rushed toward the monster, where some of the thousand faces hanging on the dissolving flesh were familiar to him, smiling and flirting, emitting howls of desire, or simply committing depraved acts with blasphemous appearance.

He angrily raised his saber and roared out a name.

"Ducatis!" he roared.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Suddenly, his left hand burst into flames of black fire with a scarlet base. His armor crackled and burned, melting away almost instantly.

Then, the flames began to burn fiercely, but they were not very bright; instead, they seemed to be so dark that they seemed to be devouring all the light.

From the flames, a phantom Shadow burst forth, wielding Power Sword, and wounded the monster before Akurduana's blade could reach it. Flames began to ignite on its alien body, and the sounds of flesh exploding echoed continuously.

Time finally returned to normal, Fulgrim was inevitably a little taken aback—he recognized the Shadow.

Akurduana's twin swords finally came crashing down.

The flames spreading from his left hand seemed to be burning him as well, altering half of his body, including his face. The cracked skin, faintly glowing with a scarlet light, gave him a sense of absurdity, as if he were about to shatter, but this was far from the end.

More names were uttered from his mouth one by one. Sergeant, the joking fighting brother, the proud Sergeant Phoenix knew them all.

With each name Akurduana uttered, a phantom Shadow would burst forth from the flames—far from real—yet always managing to inflict substantial and terrifying damage on the monster. Fulgrim didn't understand what was happening, but he didn't need to.

Akurduana's attack was effective; all he needed to know was that.

"Imitation!" he shouted at the monster. "I'm right here! Come on!"

Its attention was inevitably drawn to him somewhat; the phoenix had just tried, and its fists were useless against this thing. Its dissolving flesh even clung to his hand, and he was now unarmed.

However, this does not mean that he cannot influence the course of the battle in his own way.

As always, Akurduana quickly discerned Fulgrim's tactical intentions, and his offensive became increasingly fierce. At the same time, the sky began to subtly change color.

The decadent and alluring pinkish-purple Radiance dissipated, forced rather than voluntary. The seawater began to hiss, passively evaporating, yet the temperature was not scorching, but rather rather frigid.

The monster's howls grew louder and louder; its face was dissipating, and the flames were accelerating the dissolution of its disgusting body. A sea breeze blew in from afar, unlike the biting gale; it swirled around Fulgrim, making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

Phoenix frowned, a strange, metallic taste rising in his throat. He tried to resist, but couldn't find the enemy until a clear, thunderous roar resounded.

Crimson lightning descended from the sky, and a massive whirlpool appeared in the sea, causing seawater to overflow and evaporate. A huge shadow slowly rose from beneath it, filled with rage, hatred, and resentment. Fulgrim saw the pale white ashes hanging upside down, surging up like a tidal wave.

Then, the rising star began to descend in destruction.

The monster immediately began to crumble, turning to ashes without the slightest resistance. Fulgrim looked up, dark flames dancing wildly in his eyes.

"Primarch"

Phoenix lowered his head and gave his chief swordsman a smile, though it was not a genuine smile. However, Akurduana could still sense that his father's heart was gradually calming down.

The sky was burning, so eerie, so terrifying, yet so magnificent. Akurduana looked up at his father, momentarily speechless, until the phoenix spoke first.

"What's the situation outside?" he asked, appearing calm and unhurried, as if he had already made a pessimistic prediction about the situation.

"We," Akurduana began with difficulty, but he had no idea how to explain. He had too much to say. He gritted his teeth and lowered his head. After a moment, he raised his right hand and ripped off the armor on his left hand, which had already melted away.

The Ceramite, mechanical components, and artificial muscle fibers vanished silently like ashes, leaving the arms beneath dry and cracked, with dark red lines winding around them like veins. One name after another began at the wrist, spiraling around the arm, radiating a scarlet light.

He tensed his chin and showed the names to his Primarch. The phoenix looked at them one by one, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

After a moment, Akurduana slowly spoke, his voice no longer as fearless as when he roared earlier, but as soft as a whisper in the wind.

Horus forced us to duel each other. He said it would heal you, and we did so, because you were bleeding profusely.

"I am too," Fulgrim said.

He grasped Akurduana's hand.

The pitch-black flames immediately clung to him, hissing as they touched his flesh. Though they caused no pain, Fulgrim slowly closed his eyes, terrifying veins bulging on his forehead, his teeth chattering, and the lines of his cheeks hardening.

Beneath their feet, the world began to burn.

--

Garviel Loken slowed his movements, trying to remove the thin layer of ice from the Cogitator Array console with gentler touches. His exposed skin was almost numb, and frozen frost covered his face.

The main control center on the eighth deck possessed a chill that transcended reason, yet the commander of the Twelfth Legion stood shirtless, completely unmoved.

Black bloodstains covered his body, proof of the previous battles. He had discarded his ceremonial armor at the very beginning of the war, finding it cumbersome. The War Hounds stood guard around him, constantly alert to any potential enemies.

Garviel Loken observed the rather unassuming Primarch out of the corner of his eye, gaining a new understanding of his combat abilities—could he achieve such results without Power Armour and even using unsuitable weapons?

Garviel Loken snapped out of his daze and forced himself to stare at the main control center.

At this point, using the Cogitator Array as smoothly as before has become quite difficult.

The machine's structure had been affected by the supernatural environment, becoming slow and sluggish. Garviel Loken even suspected that some parts of its interior might have suffered frostbite from the low temperature. A simple query command would take several minutes to respond.

In such a sluggish situation, even someone as powerful as Astartes would find it impossible to remain calm and rational, but facing high pressure is precisely their acquired instinct, forged through rigorous training. Garviel Loken unsurprisingly noticed his own anxiety and tried to calm himself down.

Taking deep breaths, he began to adjust to the lag and issued commands to the Cogitator. After some time, Garviel Loken finally passed through the layers of verification, successfully reached the control interface, and saw the "infirmary" as he had hoped.

Luna Wolves stared at the word and slowly typed in the command. Several minutes later, the Cogitator Array hummed, and as it trembled, steam billowed from the main body of the machine, creating a damp mist.

"Is it open?" Angron asked with concern.

Garviel Loken hesitated for several seconds before turning to answer, "No, the door to the infirmary opened by itself, and my command is still being recognized by the Cogitator Array."

Angron narrowed his eyes and turned to look at Kharn. The latter immediately understood and began communicating through the War Hounds' communication channels. They hadn't come as a whole; some of them remained at the infirmary entrance.

But what was chilling was that there was no response from the other end of the channel, only an empty silence. Without a word, everyone understood what had happened.

Angron frowned, about to issue a new command, when he suddenly smelled the stench of burning metal. The sound of cracking ice echoed throughout the control center, as if a monster was about to emerge, making everyone involuntarily on high alert.

The War Hounds raised their guns, ready for a new battle. Garviel Loken also raised his sword, but Angron raised his hand and slowly pressed down on his wrist. Luna Wolves looked up, puzzled, at the Primarch's face.

On that furious face, stained with the monster's black blood, a faint, cold smile was gradually spreading.

Darkness rolled in, and a chill swept in, shattering the solid ice. Amidst the continuous cracking sounds, the world they saw began to burn fiercely. Ominous fire was born from the cracks in the void, bringing new revelations.

Angron turned around and gestured to Kharn. Although the latter was puzzled, he called again. This time, a voice came through the channel.

"Fulgrim is here," the man said in a hoarse, low voice.

Kharn immediately reported this news to Angron.

"Very good," said the Lord of the Red Sands. "Then there's only one thing left to do."

He lowered his head and looked at Garviel Loken. Luna Wolves stared at him, as if time had stretched out, as if ten million years had passed. Then, he heard Angron extend an invitation to him.

Will you join this war, Garviel Loken?

"Isn't that already here, sir?"

"No," Angron said. "I'm referring to another war."

Besides.