The Thousand Sons sorcerer attacked in a fury, his spells more powerful than ever. As a survivor of Prospero's burning, those memories were a trigger he could not bear.
Yet Datch showed no fear, constantly dodging the sorcerer's magic with his jetpack. Sometimes, he even relied on his Halloween Carnival pumpkin power armor, turning the enemy's ranged magic into beautiful fireworks.
Both sides fought fiercely, neither relenting. Datch had made great progress, but he was no match for a veteran who had survived ten thousand battles. After several rounds, Datch was incinerated by flames, becoming a dry husk.
Fortunately, the game's protections blocked pain and emotion at their peak, so being roasted into a dry corpse didn't hurt much.
"You want to provoke me with just this meager strength?"
Seeing his opponent fall straight as charcoal, the Thousand Sons sorcerer grinned triumphantly.
But in the next instant, his smile vanished—the scorched corpse turned to ash and disappeared!
The servant of the Corpse-Emperor he had just killed resurrected before his very eyes. Even the armor gleamed as if brand new, without the slightest scratch.
"This… Impossible!"
The Thousand Sons sorcerer screamed.
The resurrection was so fast, even subspace entities couldn't return that quickly. As the sorcerer gaped in shock, Datch lunged, cleaving off his head with a chainsword.
"That's what you get for talking up your lines in front of me."
Datch kicked the sorcerer's head aside and turned to hunt more Bloodletters.
In the distance, Guilliman, who was overseeing the whole battle, had also been watching Datch's duel. He couldn't help but marvel at how rapidly this man was growing.
After a fierce battle, the Imperials emerged victorious, and the enemy retreated like a receding tide.
"They're only regrouping. Their next assault will be even fiercer," said Saint Celestine, sheathing her flaming sword and folding her wings as she walked beside the Primarch.
Guilliman nodded, agreeing with the living saint. He knew Magnus's temper; he would not stop here.
No one hurried to ask why Raskian or Crowl had appeared with Datch. The most important task now was to escape the Webway and reach Luna.
Crowl and company were shocked to see the Primarch's living body—a mythical figure appearing in reality! But they understood the urgency of the situation and kept their emotions firmly in check.
Everyone worked swiftly to clean the battlefield, load the wounded into whatever vehicles could still move, and set off again.
The journey ahead was far from peaceful. Enemies appeared constantly at key Webway junctions, energy nodes, and narrow bridges. Under the Primarch's precise command, the Imperials dismantled every ambush and broke every blockade.
To boost morale, Guilliman always led the charge, leading his troops in overcoming enemy after enemy. After several brutal encounters, the pilgrims finally arrived at a broad, straight corridor. At the end, a shimmering, elliptical portal spun slowly.
"Here it is. On the other side of the portal—Luna," said Veilwalker.
Without hesitation, the pilgrims charged through. After a brief moment of weightlessness and sensory disconnection, they felt solid ground again.
At the same time, a sharp alarm blared, energy weapons whined, and the mechanical roar of heavy explosives filled the air.
Guilliman looked around and saw a massive Mechanicus cult unit stationed before the Webway gate, dozens of turrets aimed at their group. The Skitarii emerged from every direction, surrounding them with weapons ready.
"Stop, unidentified intruders," said Magos Catrix.
Just then, Raskian appeared from the crowd, shouting in binary:
"By the Omnissiah and the name of Fabricator-General of Mars! Disarm and stand down, now!"
"This is Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Ultramar. Any hostility toward him is treason against the Imperium. Provide medical care immediately and prepare Terra for his arrival."
The Mechanicus members, seeing Raskian, stowed their weapons and followed his orders.
Guilliman gazed over the heavily guarded, orderly training camp, finally relaxing a bit—they had arrived safely.
The Harlequin troupe gathered before the portal, chanting spells to seal the Webway gate and prevent daemons or Thousand Sons from invading Luna.
But just as the ritual was ending—
"BOOM!"
A hellish witchfire erupted from within the gate, not yet fully closed. Veilwalker narrowly escaped, but those nearby were consumed, one by one, by the searing flames.
Guilliman turned just in time to see a destructive wave of evil energy spewing from the ashes of fallen Eldar. Moments later, Bloodletters and Tzeentchian daemons poured through the Webway like a flood.
The Imperial forces, only just catching their breath, immediately reorganized a counterattack. The artillery and turrets the Mechanicus had installed near the gateway now proved their worth, unleashing overwhelming firepower on the traitors and daemons flooding Luna.
At that moment, a massive, terrifying presence appeared on Luna's surface, radiating supernatural oppression. Magnus had come—the Crimson King, horned and winged.
His daemon-primarch body raised its staff, chanting spells that bent the laws of the universe. With a wave, the traitors and daemons on Luna were shielded by an impenetrable light. As soon as his staff pointed, the Mechanicus turrets exploded in thunderous blasts, heavy Leman Russ tanks flying into the air, carving bloody paths through the defenders.
The tide of battle turned instantly—the Imperial lines were breached, screams of slaughter echoing everywhere. Guilliman stared at the chaos, heart sinking. He had to stop Magnus; the enemy could not be allowed to advance.
Magnus's gaze immediately locked on Guilliman, a hideous, arrogant smile on his lips.
"Dearest brother, we meet again.
I didn't reach Father's throne room, but coming to Luna itself is a great prize. I'll seize this satellite and use it as a springboard to assault Terra!"
At that moment, a mismatched voice interjected.
"Wow, seeing a red-skinned, one-eyed Ogryn model up close is really something. The oppression is palpable."
Magnus's ugly, heavy smile froze instantly. He turned, eyes burning with rage, to face Datch.
"You—what did you say?"
Datch scratched his head, eyes lighting up with the thrill of discovery. As expected of the original, his expression was spot-on, radiating classic villain energy.
"Of course I mean you, red-skinned, one-eyed Ogryn."
…
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