"Quick! Infuse Khorne with power!" Seeing Khorne's Hand locked in battle with Sanguinius, Tzeentch immediately gave the order. However, He had underestimated Khorne's obsession with purity in battle. His assistance was unilaterally rejected by Khorne.
"This is a battle between him and me. None of you will defile this glorious day!"
"You idiot! This battle concerns more than just you! It concerns all of us!"
Tzeentch was truly fed up with Khorne's stupidity. Perhaps He should not have let Khorne state His position earlier. He should have entered the fray Himself.
Khorne paid no heed to any of this. With a cold sneer, He focused on controlling His hand as it fought Sanguinius.
The Sword of the Dead and the Sword of Golden Flame collided again and again. The shockwaves they produced were enough to flatten everything around them. No one was qualified to interfere in such an exhilarating battle.
Every clash with Khorne's Hand stained Sanguinius's soul with Its endless obsession with war and bloodshed. He felt his heart growing ever more fanatical and crazed, until he wanted nothing more than to cast aside all duty and lose himself in slaughter.
Every clash with Sanguinius set Khorne's very essence ablaze with golden fire. For the first time, the thunderous sounds of war echoed through a cold void. Khorne realized He had to end this quickly, or Sanguinius's flames would inflict irreparable wounds upon Him.
God and man came to the same conclusion, and their actions became remarkably synchronized. Desperate, life-risking moves came one after another. The battle swiftly lost the epic grandeur expected of legends, instead resembling two dying boars desperately fighting over a chance to escape a mire.
Sanguinius severed Khorne's Hand's arm. With a howl of pain, It struck back and carved a bone-deep wound across Sanguinius's