At Lupercal's Court (5k)

As he grew older and time passed, Kolus Corax realized one thing.

From years of war, from the worship mixed with fear and awe, he understood that being Primarch inevitably meant bearing a certain responsibility.

This responsibility doesn't change whether you refuse or comply; it's always as heavy as a collapsing mountain, with only one purpose: to change you, or to be changed by you. Either truly take on the responsibility, or you'll struggle between your nature and your duty.

At the same time, somehow, he also learned to see the Emperor and his father separately.

He knew that the Emperor created the Primarch to obtain tools, as simple and direct as a primitive man needing a stone axe to chop down a tree. The Emperor's intentions were very clear, even blatant.

He hoped that the Primarch would learn to be weapons and tools, using their sharp blades to reshape the galaxy and ultimately create a bright future for humanity.

But the Emperor was not just the Emperor; he was also a less-than-successful father. That was the problem: he wasn't ruthless enough, yet he couldn't truly shed his the Emperor identity when interacting with them.

Whenever he recalls this incident, Corax feels an extreme sense of irony. So many problems between Primarch and the Emperor arise from this, such as someone complaining about their father's lack of attention, or someone believing their father is favoring a particular brother.

It was difficult for the Lord of the Crows not to become negative about these thoughts; linking war with family relationships was a rare folly in his life.

But what could he do? He was also part of this bizarre spiral.

At this moment, the stars twinkled outside the porthole, and the ships moved through rubble and broken wreckage. Fast attack ships were advancing rapidly ahead of them, and the soldiers on board would use some extreme methods to hunt down any enemy fleet that tried to stop them. Assault boats would play a very important role in this.

The Firm Resolve and its fleet of War Hounds were firing crossfire from the flanks. It had just destroyed a cruiser; the Void Shield was easily shattered, the hull twisted and began to crumble, the entire ship disintegrating into countless pieces of iron starting from the bow.

Corpses and living people spun out, and soon all of them turned into ice sculptures, crushed by warships, becoming fragmented flesh and blood floating in the dark universe.

The war had already begun.

The three legions that came to Istvaan III to carry out their mission are currently engaged in a fierce battle, completely deviating from the planet's orbit. Two of them have already laid out their strategies, their intention to attack is quite clear, while Horus Lupercal's Vengeful Spirit has not made the slightest move.

It remained stationary, like a pitiful ship with its engines disabled, waiting to be boarded, jumped on, or destroyed.

Corax frowned, instinctively sensing something was wrong. However, the sword was already drawn, and unless it was stained with blood, sheathing it was not an option.

Twenty minutes later, they began to board the ship.

Swarms of assault boats, under overwhelming firepower, stormed into the Vengeful Spirit's undefended artillery positions. They initially fired a few volleys, but now fell silent as the dead in a winter night's street.

Corax's ominous premonition grew stronger; his intuition whispered to him not to board the ship.

If he could, he would do it, but he never had a choice. Just like the Vigilus rebellion, just like joining the Great Crusade, the choice was essentially a fabricated lie; what he had to do was predetermined from the very beginning.

His personality dictates that he won't stand idly by in such a situation.

The assault boat crashed into the deck of the Vengeful Spirit, and Corax and his Murder Crows burst out of the burning inferno. As far as the eye could see, there was blood and corpses everywhere.

The Sons of Horus fired a volley of fire in an attempt to gain the upper hand, but Corax gave them no chance. The world slowed beneath his feet, all sounds were stretched out, and the Primarch's heart throbbed in his flesh and roared in a low growl.

He charged into the enemy ranks, creating a brutal killing field all by himself.

With Lightning Claw swung ceaselessly in his hand, the deadly weapon, made of Adamantium from Nostramo and crafted by Ferrus Manus himself, finally burst into crimson glory.

With a calm expression, Corax carried out one bloody massacre after another, extending the Crimson Path to the other end of the corridor in an instant. Flesh and blood were crushed into mud by steel boots, limbs and severed bodies covered the walls, and blood even splattered onto the ceiling.

The Sons of Horus at the boarding point were ruthlessly slaughtered within five minutes, a brutality the Raven Guard had long since grown accustomed to. They crept into the shadows, creating chaos and destroying vital energy pipelines, plunging the deck into darkness.

Chaos is a perfect fit for killers who roam the shadows, and the Lord of the Crows has left his flock to climb higher.

He passed through the damaged elevator shafts, the artillery positions engulfed in flames, and the destroyed emergency exits one by one, his nostrils filled with a horrifying stench.

Neither corpses nor flames could produce this smell; it was something far more horrifying, and Corax could even faintly taste the blood. He focused his mind, briefly ignoring it. At the same time, the surrounding scenery began to change.

The flames from the explosion were replaced by another kind of black, furious flame; the metal melted and deformed, burning to a scorching temperature amidst wailing cries, while the air remained extremely cold.

The Lord of the Crows stopped and, judging from the reading through his eyepiece, estimated that he had climbed about thirty-seven decks. Even if he didn't know which deck the boarding point was on, he knew that he must be on a very high deck now, and that these flames had never been seen on the lower decks.

A certain idea began to form in Corax's mind.

He gazed at the flames, and in the shadows where he was sheltering, he changed the frequency of the communication channel. After several attempts, he connected to a new channel.

The urgent beeping, signaling a warning, began urging him to upload an identification code, but Corax did not do so and instead made a one-time unidentified emergency call.

"I've boarded the ship," he said.

His voice was completely unaffected by external noise. He also didn't reveal his identity, except for this cryptic statement.

The message was sent, accompanied by a low-frequency electrical noise. A notification popped up in the upper right corner of the eyepiece, indicating that he had been temporarily banned from speaking on this communication channel. Corax waited patiently, not rashly choosing to send his identification code. The Raven Guard's insignia gleamed on his shoulder armor.

A few seconds later, accompanied by a crisp beep indicating the lifting of the ban, another voice rang in his ear.

"Kharn has received this, Lord Corax. I will transmit our location to you."

"Understood. How is my brother?"

"That depends on which one you're asking about. My lord is perfectly fine, except for lacking a suitable weapon and armor. But the Fulgrim is severely wounded."

Corax was silent for a moment. "How is he?"

"He can still walk and issue commands with full awareness," Kharn said.

Corax noticed that he didn't mention anything about the battle.

Lord of the Ravens' heart sank—he didn't know who had injured Fulgrim, or even to the point of incapacitating him, but there was probably only one person capable of doing such a thing with the Vengeful Spirit.

Horus

He remained silent, but he didn't neglect any of his tasks. Kharn had already sent over the coordinates, which he then forwarded to the crows, instructing them to gather the subsequent boarding forces. He himself was rapidly moving through the darkness.

Only by seeing Fulgrim and Angron in person could he feel a little more at ease. However, although he maintained his precious silence, the communication channel seemed to think otherwise.

A strange sound began to resonate within it, sounding almost like the tolling of bells, only far too muffled and too dense.

Corax frowned, while Kharn immediately began to warn, "Sir, our channel has been blocked—"

"--hiss."

It was crisp, direct, and sudden. Like a fire extinguished by a downpour, like a sleeping person being stabbed in the heart. Kharn's voice was cut off, Corax squinted, waiting a moment in the darkness; he already had a premonition.

"Hello, brothers." A voice quietly broke through the channel, carrying Horus's usual gentle tone. "It's rather abrupt to meet like this, but I noticed you're all on my ship, which is good."

He let out a strange chuckle, a chuckle that was neither Horus Lupercal's nor his.

"Especially you, Fulgrim, I'm so happy to see you healed. And you, Angron, I must thank you for allowing three Primarch to board my ship at the same time; that's no small feat. What could be better than seeing our brothers reunited? To be honest, I've already started preparing a banquet. Please come find me on the bridge, okay?"

He ended the conversation with a chilling, low laugh, which sent a shiver down Corax' spine—not from Horus's obvious madness, but from the sight before him.

He noticed that a large, imposing door had appeared at the end of the corridor. It was very tall and luxurious, adorned with intricate reliefs made of gilded silver, depicting four giants being crowned.

Phoenix, Raven Guard, War Hounds, and in the very center of the image, the Wolf God. His eyes were two scarlet gems, and he wore a twisted laurel wreath. Corax was quite certain that just seconds before, this door hadn't been there.

Moreover, it was slowly opening, billowing black mist from within. Corax's pupils constricted sharply, and he turned to retreat, but at that moment, darkness was enveloped by the mist. All paths vanished, leaving only one.

A pristine white staircase, carpeted in vibrant colors. At the end of the path, a royal court patiently awaits.

The Lord of the Ravens remained silent for a moment, then activated his Lightning Claw and walked in without fear. The world was distorted by a violent flash of light. In an instant, he left the burning deck and appeared in a true royal court.

Corax had been here before, though only once, but he had definitely been.

To be honest, this place left a deep impression on him—no Imperial Palace in the secular sense could compare to this royal court located inside the warship; it was the most direct proof of Horus Lupercal's noble status and endless glory.

But now, it has changed.

Let's start with the most obvious point: this place is now filled with corpses hanging upside down. They are pale, bloated, and drained of blood. The ground is a dull red, with dark marks deeply etched into the deck, outlining a huge eight-pointed star.

In the center of the royal court, the Throne of the Wolf God Radiance, and Horus Lupercal sat upon it with a smile, his crimson eyes, visible beneath the white armor, gazing thoughtfully at him.

"Ah, you're the first one here, my dear Raven," Horus said affectionately. "That's good, but I'd like to ask you to wait a moment, wouldn't you?"

He tilted his head, winked at Corax, and looked relaxed and happy.

"Some people haven't arrived yet. We can't start the banquet before Fulgrim arrives; he'll be angry. Besides, without him, what kind of banquet is it?"

Corax remained silent, observing the royal court filled with corpses, as two flashes of light rang out around him.

Horus laughed heartily and stepped down from his Throne. As always, he opened his arms warmly, as if to give a hug.

"Fulgrim, brother!" he cried. "You're well! Oh, Terra, finally!"

"Horus." The phoenix uttered the name from its chest, which was filled with hatred, its purple eyes seemingly burning.

"What's wrong?" The master of the royal court looked at him, puzzled. "You're not planning to hug me—ah, yes, that's true. After all, you've only just recovered; I was inconsiderate. So, Angron, what about you?"

He smiled and stepped forward, opening his arms once more to the blood-soaked gladiator. The Nuceria stared at him sternly, then slowly and coldly shook his head.

"Alright." Horus lowered his hand regretfully. "I won't ask you anymore, Corax, after all, you've never really liked such intense emotional expressions."

The Lord of the Ravens' response was a light clash between Lightning Claw, sparks flying, and electric currents surging wildly, thirsting for slaughter.

Horus looked at him with admiration, then gestured to him from a distance.

"Do you know what I admire most about you? Your silence, Corax. I love that. Silence is an incredibly precious quality. Too many people just know how to chatter on and on, but they don't understand the importance of keeping quiet and doing things. But sometimes you're too silent, brother. Some people are silent so they can save their words for their loved ones. What about you, Raven Guard? What is your silence for?"

"Horus," Fulgrim uttered the name with trembling hands, interrupting the conversation between Horus and Corax, even though the latter had no intention of replying at all.

Angron sighed and immediately stepped in front of him, subtly blocking him from Horus.

"What's wrong, brother?" Horus asked, his smile unchanged.

"What new requests do you have for the banquet? Drinks? I have Khan's steppe wine, wine from Roboute's hometown, and chilled vintages from Nostramo, unless you'd like Russ's special brew—"

"I don't want anything," Fulgrim said. "Except one thing."

Angron unsurprisingly reached for his waist and grasped the two Power Swords. Corax lowered his body, his claws poised to strike, the engine of his Jump Pack already humming softly. Horus smiled at Fulgrim and asked gently.

What do you want?

There was no answer—because there was no need to answer. Fulgrim's handsome face was contorted with rage and hatred, veins bulging on his neck as he charged straight at Horus. Corax attacked, descending from the sky, his claws aimed at the Lord of the Royal Court's head. Angron slumped his shoulders, his expression turning icy.

The battle began instantly.

Fulgrim was the first to leave the battle; a large section of his sternum was caved in, and blood kept gushing from his throat. He lay on the ground, trying to get up with all his might, but he couldn't lift himself off the ground.

Corax was the second. Horus dodged the Lord of Ravens's Thunder attack with unimaginable speed, and even had the strength to turn around, grab him, and slam him to the ground with the ferocity of Worldbreaker.

In just a moment, only Angron remained in the battle. He first used a shoulder charge to force Horus to stumble a few steps to the side, then thrust both swords at the joint of Horus's armor.

The clang of metal on metal was deafening. Horus turned around with a smile, his left claw sweeping across, forcing Angron to parry with his sword. At the same time, he swung his right fist, intending to punch Angron in the face.

The gladiator had anticipated this and dodged the attack, even having the strength to retaliate with his sword. Horus, slightly surprised, raised his power claw to defend himself.

At that moment, Kolus Corax leaped from the ground, his claws whistling as he aimed straight for Horus's back. Horus was forced to take the full force of the attack, his steps faltering slightly.

Angron seized the opportunity immediately, roaring as he charged forward, his twin swords thrusting relentlessly towards Horus's head with speed far exceeding lightning, even distorting the air itself.

Faced with such a deadly situation, Horus laughed.

He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the stab, and immediately ducked to dodge another attack from the Lord of the Crows.

The tide of battle began to turn. Angron and Corax exchanged a glance and both changed their tactics and footwork, shifting to hit-and-run tactics. Horus patiently moved alongside them, his footsteps echoing softly in the royal court, as if taking a leisurely stroll, still smiling.

Phoenix struggled to stand, but his body wouldn't allow it. Blood flowed freely, meandering across the ground, silently sinking into the dark red and black hues.

A spot on the eight-pointed star began to brighten.

Besides