Moloc

The tide of battle began to turn.

The demonic tide crashed against the golden dam, but instead of advancing, it retreated in silent carnage.

The Adeptus Custodes were tireless and fearless, suffering minimal casualties.

They were like Lothar, as depicted in the darkest legends of the Imperium: the Emperor's true angels, the embodiment of war beyond the reach of mortals.

But Trajann is as clear as a mirror.

Beneath the surface of apparent advantages, the crisis remains profound.

His gaze never left those Greater Daemon.

The Bloodthirster possessed enough power to briefly counteract the Null Field; the Tzeentch Greater Daemon seemed to be observing and calculating, preparing some kind of conspiracy; Great Unclean One began spreading a more primal physical plague, attempting to corrode the ground and the air...

"I can only handle two or three at a time."

Trajann calmly assessed the limits of his abilities.

The most powerful of these Greater Daemon possess terrifying power comparable to that of the Primarch.

Could he, along with the Adeptus Custodes and nuns around him, intercept them all before they stormed into the Palace Mountain?

He didn't know the answer. He only knew that he had to fight to the very last moment.

The divine Emperor has manifested himself multiple times during this period. Does this foreshadow a different turn of events in this crisis?

What kind of being could truly save Terra from this dire situation?

Trajann didn't know; all he knew was that he would do everything in his power to buy time for this being before it arrived!

"Forward," he ordered again, his voice still steady. "Until the last man."

A torrent of gold and black launched a resolute and silent counterattack against the crimson sea of demons.

While the battle raged outside the palace, an eerie stillness pervaded the atmosphere within the "Tower of Eternal Loyalty," a stronghold of protection in the heart of Terra.

This is a temporary refuge for the twelve members of the Imperium High Lords of Terra (some of the survivors).

Outside the heavy, Adamantium gate stood another group of steel giants.

Their armor was a deep iron gray, decorated with rugged bull-horned helmets and bloody totems, a stark contrast to the magnificent and sacred golden armor of the Adeptus Custodes — the Minotaurs Chapter.

Chapter are known for their brutality and absolute "pragmatism," making them the most useful and feared "hounds" in the hands of the High Lords.

They were founded during the reign of terror in the 35th millennium, and the influence of that dark age may have been deeply ingrained in their Gene-seed and Chapter culture.

Inside the hall, the luxurious atmosphere clashed sharply with the apocalyptic backdrop.

An obese High Lords (Duke Mengsk, in charge of interstellar shipping) was losing control out of fear, his shrill voice echoing through the empty hall:

"Where is Moloc? Summon Chapter Master Moloc to me immediately! Now! Right now!"

The Space Marines remained silent, like rows of iron-gray statues. After a few seconds, the statues parted, and a much larger figure emerged.

Chapter Master Moloc.

He was nearly three meters tall, covered in heavy, ancient-style Power Armour, with a wild and ferocious style.

It made him look less like a warrior of this era and more like an ancient warlord who stepped out of a mural Unification Wars.

The black spear and the massive city-breaking shield in his hand exuded an ominous, ancient aura.

"You were looking for me?"

Moloc's voice came from behind his helmet, deep and hoarse, like two pieces of rusty metal rubbing against each other.

He did not use any honorifics with the High Lords.

Duke Mengsk swallowed hard; he knew all too well the danger posed by the man before him.

Moloc was no ordinary Space Marines; in fact, one could argue that he wasn't Space Marines at all.

Many of the Chapter during the Cursed Founding were superior to the Tauren and easier to control, so why didn't the High Lords choose them?

Simply because Moloc is the Chapter Master of the Minotaurs Chapter.

The nobleman before him only knew that Moloc existed before the Minotaurs Chapter, and seemed to be the leader of some Terra gang.

God knows how many years he's lived, and God knows what kind of creature he really is. What Space Marines could grow to 2.9 meters tall? He's a monster that defies all reason.

"Chapter Master Group"

Another relatively calm High Lords (Vitali, Chief Secretary of the Interior) took over the conversation:

"Our safety depends on you and your valiant warriors. For this, we are deeply grateful. But now, there is something... perhaps more urgent than the demons before us, that requires your wisdom and strength."

Moloc remained motionless, like an iron mountain.

Vitali lowered his voice, even though this place was theoretically absolutely safe. "We've received top-secret intelligence. A... Primarch is about to return."

Lord Robert Guilliman, ruler of the Five Hundred Worlds, has set out from Ultramar and is heading towards Terra. He may arrive soon."

The hall was deathly silent.

The Primarch's return should theoretically be the greatest blessing the Imperium has received in ten thousand years.

But in the eyes of these High Lords, doubt and fear flickered.

"We don't know," Vitali continued, choosing his words carefully, "Whether the Great Emperor in the Warp can provide him with guidance."

We also don't fully understand what the Primarch, who has awakened after slumbering for ten thousand years, thinks about the current state of the Imperium.

His return may bring order, or it may bring... unpredictable changes."

Duke Mengsk couldn't help but interject, his voice sharp. "Let's put it bluntly! We need you to be prepared!"

If that Primarch... if he feels the need to 'reorganize' the Imperium order, if his target is us—"

His gaze swept over the other High Lords present. "You need to stand on the side of the Imperium! If necessary, for the stability of the Imperium..."

He didn't finish speaking, but his meaning was already clear.

A long silence.

Moloc's helmet turned slightly, as if scrutinizing the group of ornately dressed but trembling "rulers" before him.

Then, a low chuckle came from inside the helmet.

It started as a muffled thud, then became hoarse and loud, and finally turned into an undisguised, sarcastic, and wild laugh, like the roar of a caged beast.

After laughing for a long time, Moloc slowly stopped, letting out a long sigh filled with endless weariness and mockery.

"Ha... you bunch of fat maggots that have hollowed out the foundation of the Imperium, yet now you're afraid of being purged."

"I really don't understand why that guy chose you as the rulers of the Imperium in the first place. I would have preferred him to have Space Marines lead the Imperium."

His voice was icy cold, "Just tell me your fears, and maybe I'll look at you with more respect."

I have promised that no one can hurt you before I fall.

This promise is valid for anyone who comes.

Even through the helmet, his gaze was intensely burning, sweeping over everyone.

"Robert Guilliman? A 'ruler' who excels at planning territories on paper and managing political affairs from behind the scenes."

Moloc's words were full of contempt, "He may be a good steward, but on the battlefield? He lacks the ferocity and ruthlessness of his brothers."

His return might allow his exquisite Codex of Five Hundred Worlds to be reprinted several more times in Terra.

But he doesn't deserve to be feared.

Having said that, Moloc turned around without hesitation, his heavy footsteps pounding the marble floor as he walked towards the door.

"The era of the Primarch has ended!!"

"The new era has no land that can sustain them!!"

He burst into laughter!

"Chapter Master! Where are you going?" Vitali asked urgently.

Moloc didn't turn around; he simply raised the long, black spear.

The spearhead, seemingly thirsty from the blood of countless powerful enemies, was now emitting a soft, almost pleasurable hum.

"There is real fighting outside."

His voice came, "There is blood worthy of my ' Black Spear ' to taste—the blood of demons."

As for you, stay hidden, don't get scared to death.

This is your greatest contribution to the Imperium.

The Adamantium gate slammed shut behind him, separating the pale faces of the High Lords and their luxurious sanctuaries into another world.

In the passageway outside the door, only the heavy breathing of the iron-gray giants and the faint sounds of fighting and roaring from the distant battlefield, belonging to true warriors, could be heard.