Tower of Skulls

The heads belonged to men and women, young and old, their expressions frozen in the terror, pain, or confusion of their final moments.

They were piled layer upon layer, with long-congealed, blackened blood seeping from the gaps and giving off a thick stench of rot.

A rough estimate put their number at over a thousand!

An exceptionally massive Chaos warrior stood before them, clad in black armor covered in thick, dried blood crusts and crude brass ornaments.

He was carefully placing the last few freshly severed, still-dripping heads atop the pile.

His name was Gore "Bloodhowl," and he led this Black Legion slave-raiding party.

Unlike those "ancient warriors" who had betrayed the Emperor in ages long past.

He had been born within the foul Daemonculaba deep in the Eye of Terror.

From the moment his consciousness awakened, he had been a Chaos creation born for slaughter.

He had no memories of the past, no concept of "loyalty." Only the instinctive thirst for blood and tearing flesh bestowed by Chaos flowed through his veins.

While struggling to survive on the chaotic battlefields of the Eye of Terror, he had once glimpsed rituals in which other Chaos worshippers sacrificed to the Blood God.

They traded their enemies' skulls and blood for power.

That "knowledge" had ignited his instincts like a spark.

He began to imitate and practice it madly: gathering skulls after every raid, offering blood after every slaughter.

Through one bloody ritual after another, he gradually learned the "rules" for pleasing the Blood God.

For the first time, he also felt a tangible bestowal of power beyond mere instinct.

Sacrificing to the Blood God in exchange for greater power to kill had become the sole meaning of his existence.

To date, he had presided over more than twenty "large-scale sacrifices," each offering more than a thousand skulls.

The accumulated blessings had made him far stronger than his peers.

Strong enough to take on several ordinary Chaos Space Marines alone.

They had also allowed him to stand out among the creations birthed by the Daemonculaba and become the leader of this slave-raiding party.

At that moment, he placed the skulls with eerie devotion, muttering in a hoarse, fevered voice:

"...Great Blood God! Lord of Skulls! Roarer of the battlefield!

Accept the sacrifice of Your humble servant!

This blood, these souls, these spoils were all taken for You!

May Your wrath burn forever, may Your axe forever hunger! Praise Khorne! Praise blood and skulls!!"

But this time, the instant he set the final skull atop the tower and completed the "standard" sacrifice—

Buzzz!

The entire tower of skulls, Gore included, suddenly shuddered!

It was not a physical tremor, but an impact of pure energy and will from the depths of the Warp!

Spiderweb cracks instantly spread across the castle's sturdy stone walls. A scorching scent of rust and sulfur filled the air, and the temperature rose sharply.

Gore looked up in shock toward the space above the center of the hall.

Space twisted and churned as though torn apart by an invisible hand.

A scarlet vision descended with a crash, far larger, more solid, and more oppressive than the projection previously triggered by Kai!

It was no longer a vague outline, but an endless sea of blood rolling in full view.

Mountains of corpses and seas of bones lay piled high, while a colossal brass throne that seemed to support the heavens loomed faintly amid boiling blood and burning warfire!

An indescribable will of pure brutality and slaughter poured into Gore's soul and body like molten iron made real!

"Aaarghhh—!!!"

Gore let out a roar that was neither human agony nor human ecstasy, but a twisted blend of both.

He felt every inch of muscle, every bone, every cell being torn apart, reforged, and flooded with explosive power!

Compared to the torrent pouring into him now, the total blessings from his previous twenty-odd sacrifices were nothing more than a stream before a raging sea!

He could clearly "hear"—or rather, feel—a divine decree from the depths of the sea of blood and the brass throne, as though formed from the combined roars of countless battlefields:

"War... conquest..."

"Let Me see... just what kind of 'power'... a Primarch possesses..."

"You... shall be My vanguard... go... conquer him!"

"Roar—!!!

Your divine will shall be obeyed! Glory to the Blood God!!!"

Gore roared his response. His eyes were utterly swallowed by savage crimson light, and the final trace of reason within him was consumed by endless battle lust.

His body began to undergo a horrifying mutation within the scarlet radiance:

His already towering body swelled as though inflated. His taut black power armor groaned under the strain as armor plates cracked and fell away!

Yet what emerged was not flesh, but a more aggressive new "armor," covered in scarlet energy and forcibly fused with the wildly proliferating muscles and bones beneath!

Black formed its foundation, blood-red its patterns, while savage bone spikes and blasphemous brass rivets grew forth on their own.

The terrible blessing also affected the power axe in his hand, its blade humming as it lengthened and widened.

Serrated bone teeth sprouted along its edge.

Unquenchable phantom bloodflame coiled around the axe, radiating a frenzy that made souls tremble.

The blessing process was brief yet violent.

When the scarlet light dimmed slightly, revealing the figure within.

Even the other Chaos warriors who had been alarmed and were gradually gathering nearby instinctively took a step back.

The former Gore had stood two-point-three meters tall, already massive among Space Marines, and reached two-point-five meters in power armor.

But now, what stood there was a killing colossus over three meters tall, as if forged from fused flesh and metal!

His power armor had merged with portions of his flesh.

Vein-like crimson patterns flickered endlessly across its pitch-black surface.

His bulging muscles nearly burst through the armor's restraints, and each heavy breath expelled scorching air flecked with sparks.

The mutated power axe in his hand radiated a feral gleam, as if ready to devour anyone it chose.

He stomped his foot, and the floor of the castle hall split apart with a thunderous crack!

"Hah... hah... battle... more battle... hotter blood!!"

Gore panted heavily, his voice like a broken bellows mixed with an animal's growl.

His remaining awareness was filled with the supreme command to "challenge the Primarch" and with his instinct to kill.

Several Chaos warriors gathered around him, staring uneasily at their suddenly transformed leader.

One bolder warrior, who likewise craved power, could not help speaking as he stared at the terrifying remnants of blessing clinging to Gore:

"Leader, was that... another gift from the Blood God?

It is... truly enviable.

What do we do now? Continue gathering slaves, or..."

He did not get to finish.

Gore did not even look at him. He merely swung the bloodflame-wreathed giant axe in his hand backward.

"Splat—!"

There was no resistance and no warning.

The Chaos warrior who had spoken, armor and all, burst apart like a watermelon smashed by immense force.

He exploded on the spot into a red mist mixed with metal fragments, flesh, and shattered bone!

"Too... much nonsense!"

Gore slowly turned his head, his blood-red gaze sweeping over his remaining subordinates, who stood silent as cicadas in winter:

"To fight for the Blood God... requires no reason!!"

He suddenly pointed the bloodflame giant axe beyond the castle, in the general direction where Guilliman was.

His voice crashed through the hall like thunder:

"Is there anyone... unwilling to follow me... into battle?!

To hunt... greater prey!

To offer the Blood God... more glorious skulls!!"

Terrifying pressure surged outward alongside his violent killing intent.

The remaining Chaos warriors looked at one another, but before Gore's inhuman form, the ease with which he had just erased a comrade, and the invisible oppression brought by the Blood God's blessing.

The desire for battle and blood buried deep within their hearts was also ignited and magnified.

After a moment of silence.

"For the Blood God!"

"Skulls! Blood!"