Chapter 158 - The Forces of Slaanesh Arrive
~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
"Shut up, Mortarion."
Fulgrim's voice hissed like a venomous snake with its tail pinned underfoot.
In ten thousand years since his fall, he had never been this angry. Not the pleasurable kind of anger, the ecstatic irritation that came with sensation. This was genuine, chest-searing rage.
The shoe prints were still stamped on his face. Glowing with that damnable golden light. He couldn't wipe them away no matter what he tried.
Mortarion wisely reined in his laughter.
He looked down on this peacock, certainly, but Fulgrim had come here to help him, which made the creature half an ally, and there was no need to tear each other apart just yet. Still, the Lord of Death's curiosity had been thoroughly piqued. What kind of being could reduce a Daemon Primarch to this state?
So he asked.
"Who did this to you, brother?"
"Who else? Sanguinius and the Lion! Those two damned bastards."
"The Lion?"
Mortarion frowned. Behind his respirator, those dark eyes narrowed. "Hasn't he been gone for ages?"
"The Lion has returned. He mastered some special ability and used it to bring Sanguinius directly onto my flagship." Fulgrim ground his teeth.
That damned Lion. Ten thousand years, and somehow his fighting style had gotten as dirty as that damned stone wall, Dorn.
Alarm bells rang in the Lord of Death's mind.
"Then will he come here?" Mortarion's voice dropped involuntarily.
"Hmph. You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?" Fulgrim sneered, that shoe-print-decorated face twisting into a mocking grimace. "Surely the great Lord of Death isn't afraid of the Lion and the Great Angel?"
"Afraid?" Mortarion gave a cold snort. "No. I simply have no interest in those two appearing out of nowhere and ruining my plans."
He paused, narrowed his eyes, and steered the conversation back.
"I am curious, Fulgrim — you came all the way here. What for? To join me in dealing with that irritating Guilliman?"
"That dullard? I can't be bothered. Ten thousand years ago I put a sword through his neck. He's your prey, Mortarion. Mine is someone else."
"Horus?"
The Lord of Death asked, having already overlooked one of their brothers.
"Not him. And you've missed one — Konrad Curze."
The fallen serpent waved a dismissive hand.
"Curze?" Mortarion turned the name over briefly, then let out a contemptuous snort.
"A coward who surrendered to fate. Not worth remembering. Though you seem rather concerned with him, Fulgrim."
"I stopped caring about him long ago. I'm warning you not to underestimate him, that's all."
Fulgrim laughed coldly.
Mortarion, stung by the jab, let out a heavy grunt.
Foul toxic gas seeped from his respirator. A dark-green mist rolled across the bridge, and wherever it touched, the metal deck plates let out faint hissing sounds of corrosion.
Any mortal who breathed this miasma would have their organs rot from the inside out into sludge within seconds.
Fulgrim took a deep breath.
The poison ate through his bronchial tubes. The searing pain mixed with nauseating stench, and somehow the combination brought him a flicker of subtle pleasure.
A look of quiet enjoyment settled across his scar-ravaged face.
The contempt in Mortarion's eyes deepened.
"Let's get down to business, brother." Fulgrim lazily reclined into a soft chaise lounge, his serpentine tail thumping an idle rhythm against the floor. "This war of yours — where do you need my help?"
Mortarion folded his arms and responded with cold precision.
"Help me pin down Guilliman's fleet. The people of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, do what you like with them. But the worlds themselves belong to me and Grandfather Nurgle."
"Are you certain there's no other news you wish to share with me?"
Fulgrim's voice was sweet and dangerous, like someone coaxing a secret out of a child who couldn't hold one.
He was bluffing the Lord of Death.
To deal with Guilliman and Horus both, this wretch must have developed some kind of virulent weapon.
Mortarion's expression did not change.
He would not be sharing that with Fulgrim.
The creature Kugas had engineered, the one carrying the Godblight, yes, it had originally been designed for Guilliman and the others.
But if this plague war ended in his victory, the Lord of Death had no objection to saving that particular gift for his so-called ally.
He would very much enjoy watching this peacock be tormented by the Godblight until death seemed a mercy.
"No."
He said it flatly, turned, and with his Deathshroud bodyguards at his back, walked into the shadows of the bridge and did not look back.
----------
"Such a pity. Chief Apothecary Fabius missed this delightful gathering."
Lucius's voice drifted through the burning streets, light and tuneless, as if he were humming something to himself.
He looked down at his handiwork.
A mortal mother face-down in a pool of blood, both legs severed at the knee. Her screams had faded to almost nothing. Her young child stood beside her, too terrified to even cry.
"How long has it been since our Primarch led us out to war?"
He mused, to no one in particular.
Just one hour ago, the Emperor's Children fleet had descended on this planet.
One of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar. As for its name, Lucius couldn't be bothered to remember it.
He and his kindred had made planetfall and proceeded to enjoy themselves thoroughly.
Lucius had gone out of his way to find the best swordsman among the Ultramarines stationed here. A disappointment. Mediocre skill, the man hadn't even been worth getting serious over.
What he wanted was a truly powerful opponent. The stronger, the better. Ideally one who could actually kill him. That way he could be reborn into that warrior and do it all over again.
He was Slaanesh's Chosen Champion. Lucius the Eternal.
"A very long time, brother. We've always operated at warband scale. A full Legion deployment, that's rare."
The kindred warrior beside him replied with a grin, casually crushing an old man's skull in one hand. Brain matter splattered across his chestplate. He didn't bother wiping it off.
"I heard Lord Fulgrim came here chasing a specific target. I wonder what kind of thing could draw that much interest from him." Lucius sighed, then bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "Could it be Ferrus's head? Once he finds it, does the Lord intend to do... that sort of thing to it?"
"Who knows?" His kindred shrugged, then nodded down at the mother on the ground, who had stopped making sounds entirely.
Blood loss had dragged her under. All that remained was her child, crumpled in place, shaking without end.
"She's dying, Lucius. Your music box is about to expire."
"Oh, yes." Lucius turned, face twisted into a hideous grin, and started toward the child. "But there's still one more, isn't there?"
He raised the Blade of Laer, almost lazily.
In that instant, a bolter shot cracked out from the shadows of the ruins.
Lucius sidestepped on instinct. The bolt grazed his cheek and detonated against the wall behind him, blasting out a spray of debris.
He extended his tongue and licked the blood from the blade's edge. His voice trembled with excitement. "Ah, it seems I have an opponent."
Before the words were out, the Emperor's Children warrior behind him was torn in half from behind by a dark figure.
The shadow didn't pause. It came straight for Lucius.
The speed surpassed even Slaanesh's Chosen's reaction time.
Lucius was slammed into a wall. Rubble and dust crashed into his face.
When he got his senses back, what he saw was this: a black-armored Primaris Space Marine in a raven helm with a jump pack, crouched high in the ruins, holding the terrified child in his arms, watching him without a word.
Slaanesh's Chosen could read the emotions behind a helmet.
Fear. Anger. Hatred. Fanaticism.
He had tasted all of those, countless times over.
But right now, only one thing came from the figure across from him.
Calm.
Pure. Bottomless. Calm.
This feeling, this particular feeling could only mean,
"SHARROWKYN!"
Lucius howled in recognition.
He seized the Blade of Laer and charged like a man unhinged.
In the next second, his cheek made solid contact with the bottom of a boot.
Sharrowkyn used Lucius's face as a springboard, fired his jump pack, and launched skyward with the boy held tight against his chest. He didn't look back once. He flew straight for the extraction point and was gone.
What remained was Lucius, flat on his back in the ruins.
A brand-new shoe print stamped on his face.
(Per official lore, the HH Sisypheum storyline and the subsequent Cawl Primaris Space Marine background, the sleeping Sharrowkyn was indeed found. Without that, Old Thirteen would have had no way to retrieve Sharrowkyn's original gene-seed template from the Carriers on Luna and deliver it to Cawl for the creation of Primaris Space Marines.)
➤ Next: Sharrowkyn: I'm Only a Little Bit Stronger Than Trash
————————————————————
🔥 Patreon members are 60+ chapters ahead.
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 Join on -
patreon(.)com/DarkGolds