Having finished, Perturabo shook the blood off his hammer as casually as if it were machine oil.
He turned and looked at the dumbstruck members of the Black Legion.
"That is efficiency."
"He's dead. Mission accomplished."
"Now get out of the way. You're blocking my teleport coordinates."
"You..." Khayon clenched his fists, but in the end, he did not strike.
He knew that the Black Legion as it stood had no chance against Perturabo. Besides... that damned Inquisitor was indeed dead. Though they had not killed him themselves, at least some of their anger had been vented.
"Teleport."
At Perturabo's command, the golden teleportation beam lit up again.
The Lord of Iron had arrived without warning, killed without hesitation, and departed with even greater ease.
He left behind nothing but a scene of devastation and an audience with profoundly mixed feelings.
With the Inquisitor's death, the last breath that had sustained the Black Legion's quest for vengeance escaped them.
Once again, they became lost souls with nowhere to go.
Khayon took one last look at the puddle of "Inquisitor paste" on the ground, then glanced at the Imperial troops still standing ready in the distance.
"It's over."
He spoke to the warriors behind him.
"Abaddon is dead. Horus... is gone too. There's nothing left here for us."
"Let's go."
The Black Legion began to withdraw.
They boarded their landing craft and returned to their warships.
Horus's Dawn fleet-including the Penitent Legions, the Imperial Fists company, and Alcato and the others still lost in grief-also began powering up its engines.
They did not say goodbye to Calgar.
Their promise had been fulfilled. Vigilus had held.
Now they had a new mission.
To go home.
Back to the place where hope still existed-Zelanis.
The two vast fleets slowly departed the Vigilus System,