58 Reborn

Horus stared in horror at the hellish scene before him.

Everything was burning, and the pungent stench penetrated the helmet's breathing grille. The filtration system was completely ineffective, nearly destroying a part of his physiological system. His sense of smell began to malfunction, and a bloody, bitter taste came to his tongue.

But that was secondary. What he truly couldn't bear were the corpses nailed to the walls, hung from the ceilings, and turned into sculptures or paintings.

So this is the truth behind the crew's disappearance?

Instinctively, he wanted to shout "By the Emperor!" to express his shock, but the words wouldn't come out. He lowered his head bitterly, but Ezekyle Abaddon came up from behind, reached out, and forcefully pushed him away.

"Proceed," he coldly commanded. "We must be ready for battle before the Raven Guard board."

As soon as he finished speaking, the torrent of steel swept away. The Sons of Horus ran past in orderly fashion. Horus Aximand watched them leave, almost helplessly, unable to understand how they could be so indifferent to this horrific sight.

"And you, Aximand." Abaddon looked at him sternly. "If you're not ready for battle, go back to the bridge. We don't need cowards like you where we're headed."

Aximand ignored Abaddon's insults, stepped forward, raised his hand and pointed at the burning corpses, his voice extremely urgent.

"Didn't you see that, Ezekyle?"

"They're not important," Abaddon said expressionlessly. "The Warmaster's orders come first."

But this--

"--Listen, you either obey orders and go to the battle line, or you run away like a coward. There is no third option," Abaddon interrupted him rudely, speaking aggressively.

A strange ferocity was surging across his face, Aximand suddenly felt a chill. After much hesitation, he finally chose the non-existent third option that Abaddon had mentioned.

"This isn't right, Ezekyle. This whole thing isn't right. The Vengeful Spirit shouldn't be like this. Who killed them?" Aximand said, waving his arms wildly. At that moment, he looked like a court jester.

He was still trying to persuade Abaddon, but the latter remained completely unmoved.

"Yes, something's not right about this," Abaddon said, his voice low. "But the Warmaster has made his choice, and I will follow his will. I was born of his blood, and I will fight for his blood, as always."

"Terra, can't you see these corpses?!" Horus Aximand cried out in despair.

Amid the crackling of the flames and the swollen eyes of the dead, Abaddon nodded but offered no further reply.

So Aximand knew that he could see it, but he just didn't care. Or rather, he cared more about other things.

"You—" Aximand opened his mouth, already somewhat angry, wanting to accuse Abaddon, but the latter's calm gaze made him realize one thing—that he had no right to do so.

He is certainly not qualified.

He lacked the resolve and courage of Tarik Torgaddon Torgaddon and Garviel Loken to stand against the entire legion. He had witnessed it all, and therefore he was no longer qualified.

But he also felt doubt and unease because of this cruel and terrifying truth, and he harbored an extreme fear of killing his brother.

He was neither as completely loyal to the Warmaster as Abaddon, nor as fearlessly brave as Garviel Loken and Torgaddon.

"I'm too cowardly," he suddenly muttered to himself.

Abaddon laughed and nodded in agreement. It was a thoroughly cold laugh; his approval was not an affirmation, but rather a mockery.

"Yes, you are indeed cowardly, but you are not as cowardly as those two traitors. They are the real cowards, Aximand. Now come with me, we still have a battle to fight."

Abaddon put on his helmet and turned around.

"No," Horus Aximand said painfully behind him. "No."

The man with his back to his brother slowly turned around, and a sharp blade crackling with electricity was reflected in his glasses.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"The real cowards are us," Aximand said, and shut down the disintegration field of the Power Sword.

He threw it at Abaddon's feet, panting heavily as if he were experiencing the greatest pain of his life.

"But I don't want to, I don't want to go on like this anymore," he said with difficulty. "I'm going to the bridge, to see Horus. Do you remember the duties of the Mournival, Ezekyle? I'm going to fulfill them, I'm going to remind him what is right and what is wrong."

He turned and left, his steps faltering, like a dying man or an elderly person suffering from a serious illness.

Abaddon watched him leave without stopping him. A moment later, he picked up the Power Sword and walked alone into the darkness.

Head held high.

--

"It's so good to see you again, Fulgrim," Angron said.

Phoenix smiled slightly but did not reply.

The place they stood on had been almost completely destroyed by the flames. According to the laws of physics, the molten Adamantium and steel should have caused them to fall, but they were still stubbornly existing.

Smoke from the fire swirled around them, and faint roars echoed in the darkness. The corpses of the dead were gradually being charred, the forest of the dead swayed gently in the breeze, War Hounds stood guard, guns at the ready, beside the two Primarch.

"Have you seen my chief Apothecary, Fabius Bile Bile?" Phoenix asked.

At this moment, he was dressed in clothes hastily pieced together from surgical sutures, hospital gowns, and bed sheets, offering absolutely no protection. Thick bandages were wrapped around the wound on his waist and abdomen, his face was extremely pale and weak, and his voice was as faint and weak as that of someone who had been ill for a long time.

Angron shook his head.

"If you see him, kill him," the phoenix said with a smile.

"I understand," the Lord of the Red Sands replied solemnly, without asking why.

Some things don't need a reason, especially for him.

The Butcher's Nails trembled incessantly; his talent was at work, but it could do nothing to alleviate the pain in Fulgrim's heart. He could only feel the grief and anger in his brother's heart, and there was nothing else he could do.

How similar

Angron pursed his lips, offering no words of comfort or utterance. He understood that Fulgrim didn't need such things now.

"Are you still able to fight?" he asked.

"Probably," Fulgrim said. "Do you have a battle plan?"

Angron nodded and called over Garviel Loken, who was standing far away. The latter's steps were firm, yet they also revealed an eerie sense of resignation to death.

Phoenix lowered her head, looking at him expressionlessly, without saying a word.

Akurduana stood awkwardly behind him and gave Garviel Loken a wink.

Luna Wolves gave a bitter but clear hint, took another deep breath, and was about to explain when Angron spoke first.

"Company Commander Garviel Loken, could you please repeat the battle plan you and your men drafted to my brother? He just woke up from his coma and doesn't have much of an understanding of the current situation."

"Actually, I do," Phoenix said.

Even at this point, his hoarse voice still sounded pleasant, only his words were not so friendly.

"I will kill Horus," he said, looking directly into Garviel Loken's eyes. "This is my plan, Sons of Horus."

"Excuse my bluntness, sir, but he is the tenth company commander of the Luna Wolves," Kharn interjected respectfully from behind Angron.

Phoenix glanced at him, then looked back at Garviel Loken.

"Luna Wolves?" he asked softly.

"Yes, sir. I am Garviel Loken, the tenth company commander of the Luna Wolves."

Garviel Loken answered seriously, the words flowing naturally from his chest. He had thought admitting it would be difficult, but it was as easy as breathing.

"My brothers and I rescued your offspring from the prison. Our plan was to break through the blockade, with one side heading to the hangar to seize the shuttle or transport plane, while the other side brought you out of the medical bay. But Horus knew all about our plan long before it even began."

The phoenix gazed at him and nodded gently. He stepped forward and extended his hand in an Aquila Salute to Garviel Loken.

"The Emperor's Children thanks you," he said. "I can't imagine what you've been through, Company Commander Garviel Loken."

"We can talk about thanks later." Angron joined the conversation, subtly taking a step forward and shielding Garviel Loken behind him.

"The most urgent task is to regroup the troops and prepare to leave. I spoke with Corax before boarding, and judging by the time, if nothing unexpected happens, they should be launching their boarding operation by now. Fighting alongside the Raven Guard on board would definitely be a pleasant experience, brother."

"Did you communicate with him beforehand?"

Angron nodded, a slightly sad smile spreading across his face.

"It's just a rebellious planet, why would it need so many legions? Not to mention his order to have the Word Bearers fight alongside the Ultramarines, is Horus Lupercal even capable of doing such a thing?"

"Furthermore, Nuceria is also in the Ultima Segmentum. I specifically asked about it before I set off. The area around Calth hasn't been harassed by Orks for almost twenty years. How could an Ork Empire that requires two legions to deal with suddenly appear?"

Phoenix couldn't help but smile bitterly.

"It seems I was the fool who walked headlong into Horus's carefully laid trap," he said self-deprecatingly. "You were all prepared, except me. I let my legions—"

He stopped speaking and sighed deeply. Angron looked at him seriously and denied his statement.

"Trust me, brother," the Lord of the Red Sands said in a tone unlike his usual gentle one. "Faced with these things, no matter what preparations you make, it will never be enough."

Update complete.