Chapter 83
The High Lord had no time to dwell on the mystery of Godzilla. He was already drowning in more pressing matters.
Just like now.
Creed had barely turned his eyes from the star map when a messenger stumbled into the chamber. The man was covered in blood—his own, by the look of it. His right arm hung uselessly, hastily bound to stop the bleeding.
"Lord Creed!!!"
"What is it?" Creed demanded.
"The Word Bearers—their forces have broken into Cadia!"
"What did you say?!" Creed's voice thundered.
Impossible. Under the fortress world's unmatched anti-aircraft firepower, how could the Word Bearers have pierced Cadia's defenses?
But before the weight of that news could fully settle, another messenger burst in, panting.
"Lord Castellan! The Chaos fleet has been repelled! An unknown warship came to our aid. They claim it is an Imperial ship… but it doesn't look like any Imperial design I've ever seen."
"Is there a chapel aboard it?" the Inquisitor cut in sharply.
"Yes, my lord. We await your orders."
The Inquisitor grew pale, then almost barked at Creed: "Do not fire! They are allies. There are a dozen Astartes aboard—remnants from three separate Chapters!"
This did not mean three Chapters had sent only twelve men. It meant that, after brutal attrition, only twelve Space Marines from those three strike forces still lived. Even so, they had bloodied the enemy far worse. For such a small band to survive against the Word Bearers at all was nothing short of miraculous.
"So," Creed asked quietly, "that beast—the giant—is on that ship as well?"
The Inquisitor nodded grimly. "I believe so."
"Then pass the word. No one is to fire on it."
The Emperor's first direct order in millennia had been: Do not interfere with Godzilla. To ignore such a command would be sheer idiocy. More than that, the Inquisitor himself had seen the creature's power. For now, Cadia had to focus on the more immediate threat—the Word Bearers.
"Are there any Astartes regiments stationed on Cadia?" Creed asked.
"They are all deployed on their own missions."
"Then it falls to us," Creed muttered.
Sending ordinary Guardsmen against Chaos Space Marines was a slaughter. The losses would be staggering. But Cadia had little choice.
"I wonder," Creed said after a long pause, "who commands this Word Bearer host. I hope it is that one."
"Who?" the Inquisitor asked.
"Erebus."
The name hung in the air like a curse.
If you're a Warhammer player, you probably already gritted your teeth and reached for your bolter at the mention of it. Erebus may not be the most famous traitor, but he ranks in the top three most hated characters in all of Warhammer. In fact, there's even a common meme in the Imperium:
"If you had two bullets, and you were facing Horus, Lorgar, and Erebus—who would you shoot?"
Answer: "I'd shoot Erebus. Twice."
That's how loathed he is.
And now, of course, the commander of the Word Bearers' forces ravaging Cadia turned out to be none other than Erebus himself.
The First Chaplain of the Word Bearers moved among the Blackstone pylons that dotted Cadia's surface—towering structures that pierced the very clouds. The Cadians themselves barely understood their purpose, but wherever the Word Bearers struck, their first goal was always to topple these monoliths.
And they were right to fear them.
Erebus reached out, pressing his armored palm to the dark stone. His psychic gifts guttered to nothing beside it. Here, he could not conjure even a spark of witchfire. Yet he smiled.
"They suppress the Warp… but I feel it. These structures also amplify it."
For once, the snake-tongued traitor's intuition was sharp. Blackstone was indeed a paradox, capable of nullifying the Warp—or, with the right methods, channeling it into terrifying power.
"Destroy them all," Erebus commanded.
The order echoed across his warbands. Blackstone could not be broken in a single strike, but even the mightiest fortress would eventually crack under repeated, targeted detonations. Hours later, the first pylon shuddered and collapsed in a thunderous blast.
"Excellent," Erebus hissed. "On to the next."
But before he could savor his small triumph, a sound split the heavens.
Rumble.
Erebus turned, his enhanced senses catching fire across the sky. Something vast was plunging through the atmosphere, wreathed in flame.
"What… is that?"
It was no ship. Through the blaze, it seemed almost alive. Erebus had seen void whales the size of moons, but this—this was different.
The 'falling star' slammed into Cadia with world-shaking force.
The ground convulsed. Even the mighty Astartes staggered, clinging to walls as the earth itself trembled. Winds howled outward from the impact, tearing through ranks of cultists and Guardsmen alike. For a moment, the battlefield itself fell silent under the shockwave.
And then—through smoke and dust—something stirred.
The Cadians squinted, eyes watering as they caught sight of a silhouette. Humanoid, yes… but its heavy tail lashed like a whip through the haze.
A shape of raw, undeniable power.
"The fall stung a bit," the creature muttered.
And then Godzilla stood tall. His roar ripped across Cadia, blowing apart the smoke, clearing the battlefield with sheer force of voice.
Those pale, glowing eyes swept across the field.
Chaos cultists. Guardsmen. Astartes. Word Bearers. All alike found themselves pausing—because every soul present knew one truth the instant they saw him.
This was no foe they could hope to match.
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