On one side of the battlefield, the purple-and-gold formation parted like the sea before Moses.
The young Fulgrim strode out, Dawnbringer in hand, escorted by four Adeptus Custodes guards who had awakened in the museum.
The two Fulgrims met each other's gaze.
One was enormous, seductive, twisted, and steeped in fallen divinity.
The other was small, pure, resolute, and radiant with humanity.
The daemon Fulgrim froze for a moment. He looked at the boy, at those clear violet eyes. For an instant, he seemed to see himself ten thousand years ago-the man who had worked tirelessly on Chemos so his people could eat their fill; the man who, when the Emperor found him, had been full of hope and sworn to pursue perfection.
That sense of déjà vu filled him with indescribable disgust and fury.
"Such..." The daemon Fulgrim narrowed his eyes, all four daemon swords humming with a thirst for blood. "Revolting purity."
"You're a mirror, brat."
The Daemon Primarch slithered forward, closing the distance in an instant, his immense shadow engulfing the boy.
"A mirror reflecting every part of my past I'd rather forget. So, for the sake of my happiness, I have to shatter you."
The young Fulgrim tilted his head back to look at that mountain of flesh, and a mocking smile actually curled his lips.
"A mirror?"
He raised his sword, pointing its tip straight at the Daemon Primarch's nose.
"You think you deserve to look in a mirror?"
"Look at yourself. A tail, lipstick, four arms like some mutated spider. If the workers of Chemos saw that ugly mug, they'd beat you to death like a mutant rat in the sewers."
Dead silence fell over the battlefield.
Even the Noise Marines still rampaging stopped in their tracks, staring in shock at the little figure