The roar of the wind and cannons was so deafening, shaking Kreed, Lord of the Fortress' ears until they ached and throbbed.
Not just the roar of the wind and cannons, but the entire world was roaring.
Mountains crumbled, seas evaporated into ash, and the continental structure let out a dying wail.
The Eye of Terror shone more brightly than ever, like a crimson maw across the sky, seemingly ready to devour all of Cadia.
The Warp's blasphemous evil raged on the planet; mocking laughter echoed from the darkness, the long vigil finally broken.
Warp phantoms manifested on Cadia's ruins, daemons tore through the veil of reality, rampaging across the land.
Mortals, realizing Cadia was lost, began to retreat, while Abaddon's Black Legion and the daemons pursued relentlessly.
Hell drakes in the sky spewed venomous fire, and a colossal Tzeentch daemon on the horizon raised its two bird-like heads, as eerie Psyker lightning struck from the clouds.
Every retreating troop carrier and transport ship became prey for the daemons.
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress and his Eight Regiment chose to defend Cadia one last time, becoming humanity's last line of defense with their flesh and blood.
After the order was given, other commanders still chose to stand with Kreed, Lord of the Fortress; they were willing to live and die with Cadia.
The Cadia 184th Regiment, adept at defense, partially joined the battle under General Drost's command, primarily the battle-hardened Cadians.
Crimson-hot lasguns shot in all directions from the front lines; resurrected corpses roared as they charged the few remaining warriors of the Eight Regiment and One Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Regiment; Screamers on discs soared through the sky, showering blasphemous magic; Slaanesh's fanatics let out lewd and shrill laughter.
But the Cadians guarded their last stronghold, as a storm, rising from the earth, roared and swirled before the front line, engulfing all daemons attempting to breach it.
This storm slowed the advance of Chaos, granting the Cadians an extremely brief moment of respite.
"Cadia Stands!!!"
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress roared, waving his maimed arm.
They had once shouldered lasguns, building fortresses with mortal bodies before the crimson abyss of the gods, becoming humanity's front line against Chaos.
Now, they still stood there.
"Declare to the Eye of Terror! They can take Cadia and the bodies of the Cadians, but they cannot take our future!"
"Cadia will not fall; our warriors still exist. They will go to every front line among the stars, to every place where the Emperor needs them."
"There, Cadia will still be a fortress standing before the enemies of Mankind; stars may fall, but Cadia will always stand there."
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress' blood flowed ceaselessly; he might soon die from blood loss.
But now, the few remaining medics had also picked up weapons to defend the front line, and Kreed no longer felt the need to be healed.
"..Yes."
Another commander, General Drost, who led the One Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Regiment's warriors, agreed with Kreed, Lord of the Fortress' words:
"And when the Cadians who survive die, Cadia will still not fall."
"Other warriors will pick up our lasguns, stand on the front lines, become new fortresses; they will inherit the name of Cadia."
"Let the enemies of Mankind fear! They have destroyed our star, but Cadia will become an undying wraith haunting them."
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress saw the last transport plane clumsily ascending into the sky in the distance.
Except for the Cadians of the Eight Regiment and One Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Regiment, everyone else had retreated.
Cadia had become a graveyard, but Kreed, Lord of the Fortress couldn't help but laugh aloud, laughing at his last small victory.
He and General Drost exchanged smiles, leaning against the ruins of the front line.
"That girl you chose... her name is Reyna, right? Can she and those Ashfordians bear the name of Cadia?"
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress asked.
He knew that before coming to Cadia, General Drost's One Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Regiment had suffered heavy casualties in the Netherworld Star System.
But they had absorbed the local Ashfordians, re-forming a new unit composed of Ashfordians and Cadians working together, and had come to Cadia for support.
The leader of those Ashfordians was named Reyna, a female Adeptus Astartes, one of the few Adeptus Astartes who hadn't gone mad or died when the Eye of Terror opened; on the contrary, that girl's Psyker powers had significantly increased.
She roared and raged, conjuring a storm behind the retreating convoy, becoming everyone's final barrier.
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress estimated that the girl should have reached the level of an Alpha-grade Adeptus Astartes, or perhaps even surpassed it.
That girl led the Ashfordian-descended Cadia 184th Regiment in their evacuation.
"They can. Bloodline isn't what's important."
General Drost's injured body trembled slightly as he took out an elaborately carved flask from his pocket, took a swig of Amasec, and said:
"What's important is a fortress-like soul, an anger towards the enemies of Mankind... Those Ashfordians understand this; they can inherit the name of Cadia."
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress nodded slightly.
Cadia, with over 800 million people, had fallen; at most, only a few million, pitifully few, would survive and leave this planet.
The bloodline of Cadia would eventually be severed among the stars, but Kreed sincerely hoped that the name of Cadia would not fall.
General Drost handed the flask to Kreed, Lord of the Fortress, who took a gulp and winced at the burning taste of the alcohol.
"The medics' rubbing alcohol tastes better than this junk of yours, what terrible taste!" Kreed, Lord of the Fortress threw the flask back to Drost.
"You just don't appreciate it," General Drost complained in return, taking another swig.
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress suddenly heard the whistling sound of a rocket launcher; an Eight Regiment warrior fired a scorching rocket.
The shell exploded in the chest of a daemon, blasting its swaggering chest into a bloody mess.
That was the Eight Regiment's last rocket.
But the warriors of Cadia still cheered, shouting "Cadia Stands."
Cadia Stands, Kreed, Lord of the Fortress didn't know if he had shouted it aloud, but at least he had roared it in his heart for the ten thousandth time.
Suddenly, he saw a storm rising from the front line, and a low, cold, mechanical laugh suddenly emerged from the storm.
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress abruptly raised his gun and fiercely pulled the trigger, aiming at the storm.
However, the storm swept away Kreed, Lord of the Fortress' hasty shot.
"How spectacular."
"A perfect exhibit, worthy of being the centerpiece of my museum."
A silver figure appeared before the Cadians; it raised its arm high, and green light flickered, a strange polygon pulsating in the void.
"This will not be your end."
"Eternity awaits you; you will become monuments to your race."
A moment later, Kreed, Lord of the Fortress felt only darkness engulf him.
Of course, it wouldn't be the end,
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress thought hazily,
Because Cadia Stands.
"Cadia Stands."
Before losing consciousness, Kreed, Lord of the Fortress roared one last time.
The wine was so sweet.
On the flagship Vengeful Spirit, Ezekiel Abaddon raised a goblet in his hand.
The goblet was made from a skull, crafted by Fabius Bile, the skull of a poor clone of his father, Horus.
Ezekiel Abaddon drank deeply, admiring Cadia's fall outside the viewport.
A thousand cracks riddled Cadia; this once almost insurmountable fortress world was so tiny on the crimson path opened by the Eye of Terror; it would eventually fall, or be reborn by Chaos into a perfect daemon world.
A portion of the fools loyal to the False Emperor escaped; Abaddon watched the defeated army flee in disarray, led by the Phalanx.
He was not in a hurry to pursue.
One reason was that the Phalanx, that massive flagship of the Imperial Fists, still possessed power that made Abaddon's fleet wary.
Looking at the massive vessel, Abaddon instinctively recalled Rogal Dorn's heavy fist.
Another reason was that Abaddon didn't care about these stragglers.
Ten thousand years of war had ended; the crimson path was laid. Could he follow this path and reach Terra again?
Suddenly, almost unconsciously, Abaddon heard roars and echoes in the Warp.
As if, at the same time, a million people thought the same thing, creating echoes and roars in the Warp.
"Cadia Stands!!!"
This Warp echo flashed through Abaddon's consciousness.
Abaddon waved his hand in disgust; he no longer cared about Cadia. The Cadians would have no effect on him.
The Black Legion's next target would only be the entire galaxy.
Let the galaxy burn!
Abaddon thought with joy.
However, just then, the sound of a hatch opening interrupted Abaddon's joy.
He looked towards the hatch with displeasure.
There, Zaraphiston, the Thousand Sons sorcerer blessed by Tzeentch, entered. He served Abaddon, providing reliable prophecies and divinations for him.
"My Lord Abaddon, why do we not pursue?" Zaraphiston watched Abaddon with his three eyes.
Abaddon frowned slightly.
He disliked Zaraphiston's tone; it was almost an interrogation, too bold for Zaraphiston, who usually favored flattering Abaddon.
"Let the fleet's dregs gnaw at them; the loyalists are merely defeated dogs, not worth pursuing," Abaddon said in a low voice.
Normally, it would end here, but Zaraphiston's lips curved into a smile.
"But one ship still carries a precious relic..."
Abaddon stared at Zaraphiston, scoffing disdainfully: "There's nothing on the Phalanx worth caring about. Do you want Rogal Dorn's hand bones?"
"No, my lord." Zaraphiston bowed slightly to Abaddon; his third eye flickered with the Warp's blasphemous power: "I speak not of the Phalanx, but of that Adeptus Mechanicus ark."
"Upon it is a holy relic; it can bring back an almost dead ancient being, a legendary figure."
"Who?" A flicker of unease arose in Abaddon's heart.
Zaraphiston spoke in a low voice, uttering the name he had seen in the torrents of the Warp,
The name Abaddon had almost forgotten, the name of the true Lord of Ultramar...
This was almost impossible—
Abaddon was on the verge of unleashing his fury.
But before he could express his anger, Zaraphiston's smile vanished on its own.
The light of the Warp constantly flickered in his third eye; he seemed to see something else...
"And another."
Zaraphiston said, his gaze vacant, as if startled by the news he had seen.
"What?" Abaddon asked, suppressing his anger.
"Horus..." Zaraphiston said almost instinctively: "Horus is also about to be resurrected—"
"Bastard!!!!"
Abaddon roared, and the goblet made from his father's clone's skull was violently crushed.
The Warmaster lunged at Zaraphiston like a hurricane, his massive Horus' Claw instantly gripping Zaraphiston's head.
Before the Thousand Sons sorcerer could even wail, his head exploded in Abaddon's hand.
"It's over! They are just remnants of history!"
Abaddon was consumed by rage; he punched Zaraphiston's corpse again and again, letting out an angry roar:
"The age of the Primarchs is long over!!!!"