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Ignis would never refuse such a request, and he was genuinely pleased to see this noble Son of the Angel reclaim his courage.
To face the unresolved knot, one has carried for many years is something that demands immense courage. The Salamander was not without worry—he had feared that this warrior might likewise fall into the Black Rage mid-battle due to overwhelming despair or agitation.
But now, Cerakos was clearly blessed. It was simply unclear which great power had cast its gaze upon him. However, there was no burning pain on his own face, which meant this blessing was most likely bestowed by the protectors of the Imperium.
Cecilia's calculations soon produced results. Although this young lady's equipment was crude and her experience limited, her years of study and family background still made her a remarkably capable Proxy.
It was only that she had yet to gain any real reputation. Ignis believed that in no more than a year or two, with Cerakos's assistance, this young lady would undoubtedly become a well-known figure in the field.
"We should move." The girl looked confidently at her phone screen, utterly assured in the results she had calculated.
Cecilia led them through higher floating islands. After eliminating a group of Ethereals, they indeed discovered a spatial rift.
"He's on the other side." The young lady pointed at the crack before them. "Grandfather Cerakos."
"Are you ready?" The Salamander raised his shield, tucking most of his body behind it. Even if this thing might not be very effective against lightning claws, it was still better than taking the hit with bare flesh.
"Anytime." Cerakos twirled his blade in response.
The three of them entered the rift together. A familiar wave of vertigo washed over them, and when the Salamander's boots felt solid ground again, his vision gradually cleared.
The first thing they heard was a roaring sound—one that was all too familiar. A jump pack. Ignis immediately began target acquisition, ready to discard his shield at any moment.
The Space Marine trapped in the Black Rage hovered at a distance, utterly motionless. His limbs hung slack, as if he were already dead. Ether crystals crawled across his jump pack and hands, bright energy veins within them continuously feeding power into the pack. His forearms were encased in silvery-gray crystal, grotesquely enlarged, the blades of his lightning claws as long as the Salamander's entire arm.
Yet the rest of his body showed no signs of corrosion. His armor was clearly pieced together. Based on Mark VII Aquila Power Armor, his right pauldron had been replaced with a riveted Mark V Heresy-pattern shoulder guard. Most intriguing of all was the helmet—an Aquila base fitted with a grille visor reminiscent of Mark II Crusade and Mark III Iron armor.
It looked like a patchwork, but in truth, the components on this suit were exceedingly rare. Especially the visor—an authentic relic from ten thousand years ago. How the Lamenters had managed to obtain such a treasure was beyond imagining. It certainly wasn't something handed down internally—this was far too valuable for that.
Cerakos instructed Cecilia to hide at a distance. He took a deep breath, then faced Ignis.
"Let's go. We should grant him release as quickly as possible."
The Salamander silently nodded.
Cerakos stepped forward a few paces and, from afar, rendered an Aquila salute toward the Space Marine lost to the Black Rage.
Then he shouted loudly, "Sergeant Calyx! I've come!"
That shout startled the sergeant hovering in midair. He snapped awake, his gaze sweeping across the two Space Marines with absolute hatred and madness. Damn Horus—he had appeared again. And this time there were two of him!
"HORUS!"
A beast-like roar tore from the sergeant's throat. The Ether crystal-encased jump pack pumped out massive torrents of thrust as he spread his claws, ready to tear his enemies apart the instant he closed in.
Sergeant Calyx surged toward them like a storm of blood and gore. Ignis raised his shield—whether it would withstand a disintegration field was uncertain, but it was still better than using his own body. Cerakos locked his gaze onto the sergeant whose helmet bore a black vertical stripe. His two hearts thundered wildly, his sword hand trembling slightly.
"Come on!" Cerakos roared as he charged forward, the blue disintegration field on his power sword blazing to life. "I'm here to free you, Sergeant!"
His shout clearly drew Calyx's attention. This smaller Horus dared to provoke him before the larger one—he would tear this one in half first, rip out his heart and lungs!
The sergeant's flight path twisted sharply. Like a hunting falcon, he dove downward, the Ether crystal-forged claws blazing with the same blue disintegration field.
Clang! A metallic shriek rang out as the weapons collided. Disintegration fields clashed and devoured one another, blue arcs tearing through the surrounding air. Cerakos was completely suppressed. Calyx struck from above, the impact numbing Cerakos's arms and driving him more than ten centimeters into the ground. The jump pack did not relent, continuously applying pressure—he wouldn't last long.
Worse still, one of the sergeant's hands had already slipped free from the bind of the sword. The lightning claw, gleaming with lethal blue light, was about to fall upon Cerakos's chest.
But this time, he was not fighting alone.
Accompanied by thunderous footsteps, Ignis charged into the fray. His massive shield slammed into Calyx with crushing momentum. The sergeant in the Black Rage was knocked flying, but he almost instantly stabilized himself with his jump pack. The Salamander felt a chill at the speed of that response—this veteran had not only detected the attack, but even while being struck, he had deliberately shifted to keep the shield's spikes away from weaker armor sections.
This sergeant was far more formidable than Ignis had estimated.
Then again, it made sense. This was the Lamenters Chapter, infamous for endless misfortune. Anyone who could serve as a long-standing sergeant within it was bound to be exceptional. And by Cerakos's account, this was the man who had once charged straight through the Minotaurs' defensive line during the Badab War, ripping it open by force.
"He's impressive," Ignis muttered quietly.
The instant the Salamander rescued him, Cerakos pressed the attack. This Son of the Angel's swordsmanship was exquisite; each exchange laced with countless feints. Ignis suspected that if he were to cross blades with Cerakos himself, he would suffer dearly. Even so, Calyx precisely deflected every single strike. He ignored the feints entirely, countering the true killing blows directly with his lightning claws.
"Sergeant! Sergeant Calyx!" Cerakos shouted his name, trying to awaken whatever remained of his will.
But the Black Rage—the horrific Warp curse rooted deep within the gene-seed of Sanguinius's sons—had long since stripped the sergeant of all perception. In his vision, the smaller Horus attacked him while hurling endless insults. His fury burned uncontrollably; he wanted nothing more than to tear this damned traitor apart.
"Horus! Die!" Those were the only words Calyx could utter.
The massive lightning claws encased in Ether crystal grew even faster. Cerakos, who had moments ago been able to trade blows with him, was instantly overwhelmed. All he could do was desperately defend with his power sword, utterly unable to find any opening to counterattack.
Cerakos estimated he could hold for no more than thirty seconds—one second longer would be impossible.
Ignis naturally noticed this. He rushed forward, raising his thunder hammer and bringing it down on the sergeant—but he did not activate the disintegration field. This Salamander wanted to give the Son of the Angel lost to the Black Rage one final chance.
Moreover, Cerakos's power armor was severely damaged. If Calyx were freed, his armor could be modified with minimal effort for Cerakos's use.
Sergeant Calyx once again detected the clumsy ambush. In a single second, he shifted the direction of his claw strikes multiple times, forcing Cerakos to retreat a step to avoid the onslaught. Then he used his most reinforced pauldron to take Ignis's heavy blow head-on.
The staggering force sent Calyx crashing to the ground, his left arm briefly losing control. Ignis knew, however, that the sergeant had not relied solely on the thickest armor. He had used the smooth curvature of the pauldron to deflect the impact, preventing the full force from landing.
Even so, the sheer disparity in strength was impossible to ignore. Amidst the dust kicked up around them, Calyx felt the world spin.
Cerakos would never waste such an opportunity. Before Calyx could recover, the power sword could have pierced his chest or severed his head.
The Son of the Angel stepped in urgently, gripping the middle of the blade with his left hand in a half-sword stance, thrusting toward Calyx's chest as he lay overturned. He did not fear the thick, curved breastplate deflecting the strike—half-swording granted superior control and penetration, and he deliberately avoided the raised central dome of the armor.
The Ether crystal encasing the jump pack flared brightly. Active Ether energy surged along glowing lines into the pack. With a thunderous roar, Sergeant Calyx launched himself away, wrist scraping the ground as he flew—neither the Salamander's hammer nor the Lamenter's blade managed to land.
Once he had put distance between himself and the two Horus figures, he quickly stabilized and stood upright again.
The one with the hammer is strong and large, but slower. The smaller one can keep up with my speed, but lacks decisiveness.Fighting two at once will put me at a disadvantage. The best course is to break them one by one.
Fortunately, they cannot fly—only move slowly on the ground. I can exploit the difference in their speeds to separate them.
The jump pack roared, its output surging as he shot straight into the air. He intended to repeat the previous tactic—use the impact of landing to knock down the smaller one first, then swiftly deal with the larger one.
"Careful—he's diving again!" Ignis raised his shield high.
"Understood." Cerakos drew a lever-action A4A gun from his waist, taking aim.
Bang! Bang! Bang! He fired three rapid shots. Dragon's Breath shells spewed flames and steel pellets into the sky, resembling the IJA Type 3 AA incendiary flak fire. But Sergeant Calyx was no USN naval aviator to be deterred by burning fragments—he ignored the suppressive fire entirely and dove straight down.
The falcon lurking within steel extended its claws, blue disintegration fields crackling with arcs of energy. Ignis met his gaze, calculating the landing point. He would block the claws with his shield—then pin him down.
That meant avoiding having those terrible claws sever his arm. He had to use the most appropriate section of the shield to restrain them.
The Salamander's hearts pounded violently. The last time he had faced such a dangerous opponent was with U'zuhl the Skulltaker.
Clang—shrrrk.
Under the effect of the disintegration field, the lightning claw blades pierced the Salamander's shield with terrifying ease. Calyx immediately applied force, trying to tear apart the man behind it. He thirsted for the enemy's blood. He had slain countless Horus figures, bathed in and drunk their blood time and again. Yet new Horus figures always emerged.
It didn't matter. One Horus would be destroyed for every appearance. No matter how many times this damned traitor resurrected or multiplied, he would pay for his betrayal.
"HORUS!" Calyx roared as the heavy metal shield shattered into pieces beneath his claws.
But… no blood flowed?
At the instant the claws pierced the shield, Ignis did two things. First, he swung the shield sideways, dragging Sergeant Calyx toward the ground. Second, he activated the quick-release mechanism, detaching it from his forearm and retreating rapidly.
Even so, the dreadful lightning claws grazed the edge of his arm guard. Had he been a fraction of a second slower, he would have lost his left hand forever.
The shield's weight was immense. To ensure it could withstand heavy weapon fire, the Salamander had deliberately reinforced it. That tremendous mass was difficult to cast aside.
This opportunity was too rare to waste. The sergeant had lost his vision and was suppressed, unable to maneuver—there would never be a better moment than this!
"Brother Calyx, it's over!" Cerakos shouted.
His blade flashed as he thrust toward the sergeant's neck.
His hand trembled. This sergeant had once guided him onto the path of the Emperor's Angels, fighting alongside him. During the Badab War, Cerakos had always fought beside the sergeant's unit, until his own squad was wiped out and he came under the sergeant's command.
He would never forget Sergeant Calyx—his jump pack blazing as he descended from the sky, chainsword plunging into the neck of a Minotaurs Space Marine, blood spraying everywhere. Then the sergeant had reached out a hand to him, pulling him back from the brink of death.
During the Penitent Crusade, Sergeant Calyx continued to look after him—or rather, the Lamenters, few survivors as they were, looked after one another. In battle after grueling battle, the sergeant always led from the front, carving a path for the Chapter. Battle-brothers watched as he and his squad charged into enemy lines, tearing open breaches.
Even in his final moment, it was Cerakos who had been surrounded by Warp daemons, on the verge of his most glorious end. Sergeant Calyx descended from the heavens once more, lightning claws shredding the enemy to pieces.
Then a bloated monstrosity charged them. After a violent explosion, consciousness faded into darkness.
When he awoke again, the sergeant had already fallen into the Black Rage.
Cerakos could not imagine what kind of frenzied battle had driven the sergeant's bloodthirst beyond redemption, pushing him toward the darkest end buried within his gene-seed.
The blade pierced the shield, punched through the armor, and sank into flesh. The sensation was all too familiar to Cerakos—he had slain countless enemies. Perhaps now… it was finally over.
There was no struggle, no roar, no movement at all. It was as if time itself had been paused. Sergeant Calyx lay quietly beneath the shield, as though finally freed from an eternal nightmare.
"Is it… over?" Ignis asked, looking at the upright blade.
"I don't know." Cerakos was equally stunned. Even now, he could hardly believe he had truly granted release to Sergeant Calyx, lost to the Black Rage.
He pulled the blade free. Blood dripped from the tip.
"It seems… it's over." There was no joy of victory in the Son of the Angel's voice—only boundless pain.
The veteran of the Lamenters had died by his own sword. Even if it was to grant him peace, the bitterness was unbearable.
"Let's take him back for cremation," Ignis said, placing a hand on Cerakos's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't detect any Apothecary presence. His gene-seed cannot be recovered."
"I understand." Cerakos lowered his head, struggling to steady his emotions.
Ignis reached out and heaved the shattered shield aside, preparing to retrieve his fallen comrade's body.
The instant the heavy steel plate was lifted, Sergeant Calyx's lightning claw lunged toward the Salamander's arm.
He hadn't died—he had chosen to play dead, waiting for the right moment.
It was too late to pull back!
Suddenly, the Salamander's balance was thrown off as the lightning claw swept past his arm guard once more.
It was Cerakos. He had realized the sergeant was still alive, but he couldn't move the Salamander's massive frame—he could only hurl himself into him with all his strength. That shove made Ignis stumble just enough to evade the strike.
Cerakos himself wasn't so fortunate. The lightning claw struck his right pauldron—but thankfully, the armor protected him.
Whether guided by fate or sheer coincidence, the claw slid across the smooth surface of the pauldron, tearing a massive gash into the armor but failing to harm the flesh beneath in the slightest. It didn't even damage nerves or muscle.
Cerakos rolled as he fell, regaining his footing.
Sergeant Calyx's jump pack roared again, the immense thrust pulling him free as he rose back into the air.
Ignis no longer had a shield. The previous tactic couldn't be used a second time—he had to find another way to restrict this Black Rage angel's mobility.
"He's unbelievably tough," Ignis remarked as he saw Cerakos stand again.
"Yeah." Cerakos was still shaken.
The sergeant watched them. Of course, he wasn't uninjured. Cerakos's thrust had pierced his chest. Although it hadn't damaged either of his two hearts, his right lung was compromised. The disintegration field had erased part of it entirely. Blood poured from the missing section, severely impairing his breathing.
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