I Finally Waited for You
"Little Horse--"
"My little horse--"
Why did you betray me?
"What's so good about that blue one?--"
I give you strength! I give you wisdom! I give you rebirth!
"And yet you went to be his dog!"
"They even took my Grey Knights with them!!"
Tzeentch's wails echoed throughout the entire Warp.
In another corner, Khorne's maniacal laughter and wailing mingled, creating an eerie sound—
"Hahahaha--Waaaaah--"
"My angel--hahahaha--"
Why are they chanting Guilliman's name?! Waaaaah!!
"Give me your skull! Give it to me!!"
The Emperor's maniacal laughter joined this symphony of the Warp.
"Hahahaha--My dear eldest son--Hahahaha--"
"Guilliman —well done—hahahaha—"
"That'll infuriate those two idiots! Hahahaha!"
The voices of the three gods intertwined and echoed throughout the Warp, driving countless demons mad, making countless souls tremble, and plunging the entire Warp into a bizarre chaos.
Deep within the Ark of Omen.
Lion's battle has reached a fever pitch.
He didn't know how long he had been killing.
He didn't know how many he had killed.
All he knew was that the enemies before him seemed endless.
but--
He is not afraid.
He's not tired.
He even felt that the more he killed, the more exhilarated he became, and the more he wanted to kill.
This is the Primarch's combat instinct.
This is the fighting spirit of a lion.
This is the unparalleled combat power of the First Legion 'Gene-Father.
He swung his sword once more.
This time, wherever the sword light passed, a row of Chaos Space Marines fell in unison, their heads flying through the air, their blood blooming like red flowers.
He raised his shield once more.
This time, where the shield blocked, a whole magazine of explosives was deflected and fired back at the Chaos traitors who had fired, riddling them with holes.
His fist slammed out again.
This time, the fist struck, causing the chest of a Chaos Terminator to cave in before exploding from the back, gushing out internal organs and blood, splattering a group of Chaos Cultist behind him.
"Ha ha ha ha--"
Lion laughed wildly and continued forward.
Fifty Dark Angels followed closely behind him.
Countless red figures frantically darted around him.
Before him, countless traitors of Chaos wailed in despair.
At this moment, he was not alone.
He is a lion.
He is the First Primarch.
He is--
Emperor's Children.
He raised his head, gazing into the depths of the Ark of Omen, into the unknown darkness, into what awaited them—
More enemies.
More battles.
More killing.
A crazed smile crept across his lips.
That smile contained excitement, anticipation, and something else—
A genuine feeling of exhilaration.
He drew his sword, raised his shield, took a deep breath, and then—
He roared out:
"Come on! Come on again! I haven't killed enough yet!!"
That roar exploded within the Ark of Omen, in the heart of the Chaos Traitor, and in the heart of every warrior who followed him.
Countless red figures roared in response at the same time:
"Kill!!"
"Kill!!"
"Kill!!"
The sound was like thunder, like a tsunami, like—
The roar of a lion.
At the heart of the Ark of Omen is a heart.
A heart formed from Chaos energy.
It pulsated slowly beneath the enormous dome, each pulsation emitting a dark red light.
The light was mixed with the wails of countless being devoured; those were the souls of the Ark of Omen.
The curse left behind by Vashtorr is at the heart of this mobile hell.
Beneath the heart, a figure stands with outstretched arms, gazing up with fervent devotion.
That was the Chaos Sorcerer, the ruler of this Craftworld.
He was covered in the mark of the Dark Mechanicum, his eyes burned with the flames of the Warp, and a maniacal smile played on his lips.
"You've come!"
He laughed wildly, and his laughter echoed under the dome:
"The First Primarch! Lion Al Johnsen! The Emperor's First Son! The Lion!"
His voice grew louder and louder, more and more frantic:
Do you know how long I've waited for this day?
Do you know what I've prepared to welcome you?
He opened his arms and pointed to the heart:
"This Craftworld! This fleet! All of this! Was prepared to devour you!"
"If I devour you, I can become the Daemon Prince!"
"Then I will receive Lord Vashtorr's final blessing!"
"I can --"
He didn't finish speaking.
Because Lion's sword had already sliced through his neck.
The head flew high into the air, tracing a graceful parabola.
The expression on his face was still stuck in that frenzied excitement, and hadn't even had time to turn into astonishment.
Lion sheathed his sword, not even glancing at the head that was falling to the ground.
"You talk too much nonsense."
He said calmly.
The head fell to the ground, rolled a few times, and came to rest at Lion's feet.
Lion lowered his head, looking at the severed head, at the face still bearing the expression of euphoria, and suddenly said:
"What's your name again?"
The head, of course, will not answer.
Lion didn't care.
He raised his head and looked at the still-beating heart.
Then he raised his sword.
With a single sword stroke, it fell.
The heart exploded with a deafening roar, spewing out countless Chaos energies, but the moment they touched Lion, they were completely blocked by the Emperor's Shield.
The energy exploded on the shield with a piercing shriek before gradually dissipating.
From the depths of the Ark of Omen came a series of enormous roars.
That was the sound of this mobile hell collapsing.
Lion turned around and looked at the Dark Angels behind him.
A smile appeared on his face.
That smile contained satisfaction, contentment, and something else—
My pride as a father.
"My sons"
He said the sound echoed under the dome:
"It's time for us to move on to the next battlefield."
Belial stepped forward.
He knelt on one knee, bowed his head, a gesture that conveyed boundless respect and loyalty.