Chapter 79: Brothers Reunion
Hiss—
The last Slaaneshi daemon was reduced to purple dust by Mortarion's scythe.
With the escape of Zarakynel the Calamity and the closure of the warp rift, the daemonic surge in the hall was completely cut off at its source.
Under the combined onslaught of the three Primarchs, the Custodian, and the heroic spirits burning with pale flames, the remaining daemons were like rotten meat thrown into a meat grinder—wiped out in just a few minutes.
The hall fell silent.
Only the heavy breathing, the hum of power armour, and—
a crisp, elegant, even rhythmic clapping.
Clap, clap, clap.
Fulgrim stood in the centre of the ruins.
He did not flee, nor did he panic despite being cut off from his escape route.
Instead, he used his free hand to tidy his long hair, singed by the black fire, and with another hand, smoothed a ripped scratch on his shoulder armour.
Despite the seemingly hopeless situation, it did not diminish his inherent elegance and arrogance.
"How… nostalgic."
Fulgrim clapped, his purple, vertical pupils slowly sweeping over everyone present.
His gaze lingered for a second on Guilliman's burning Emperor's Sword, then on Mortarion's scythe radiating golden flames, finally settling on Ferrus's burning black "head."
"How many years has it been since a family gathering like this?"
Fulgrim's voice was filled with mockery and a certain morbid excitement.
"My dear Roboute, after ten thousand years, you are still so serious, so dull and boring."
"Oh, Mortarion, my dear brother, though you have finally cleaned yourself up, you are still that gloomy look."
"And you… my dear Ferrus."
Fulgrim opened his four arms, as if to embrace him from afar.
"And these are my dead children, and that intriguing little girl chosen by the Corpse-Emperor."
"Such a scene… even Chemos's grandest tragedy cannot compare to the tension of today's drama."
"This is not one of your ostentatious, overpriced operas, Fulgrim."
Guilliman took a step forward.
The Emperor's Sword in his hand blazed fiercely, but he did not immediately raise it. He was like a composed consul, representing the rationality and order of the Imperium.
"This is the impending judgment."
His voice was as cold as the wind outside Terra's palace.
"Your performance is over. Eileen saw through your despicable and clumsy tricks."
"Tricks?"
Fulgrim raised an eyebrow and let out an exaggerated sneer.
"Roboute, you are still as boring as ever. That is why Father always liked to treat you like his steward."
He slithered, leaving purple marks on the floor.
"This is not a trick. This is evolution! This is sublimation!"
"I chose freedom! I chose to embrace the ultimate in sensory experience! To explore every subtle tremor in life!"
"And you…"
Fulgrim pointed to his brothers before him, a look of pity on his face.
"You are merely slaves bound by old morality. You guard the Corpse-Emperor's rotting empire as if it were a stinking corpse."
"Freedom?"
A cold snort interrupted his speech.
Mortarion, wielding the massive war-scythe "Judgement," approached from the flank.
"Do not embarrass yourself with your self-deceiving nonsense."
Mortarion's grey eyes were filled with contempt.
"That is not freedom. That is cowardly escapism."
"You cannot face your failures and incompleteness. You cannot face the crimes you committed against your loyal sons on Istvaan III. You cannot face the fact that you killed Ferrus with your own hands."
Mortarion's words pierced Fulgrim's heart like nails.
"So you hid under that bitch's skirt. Numbing yourself with so-called 'pleasure.' Filling the emptiness in your heart with those ridiculous games and disgusting mutations."
"You are like an ostrich burying its head in a cesspool, Fulgrim."
Fulgrim's smile froze for a moment.
He gripped his sword tighter, a flicker of annoyance at being exposed flashing in his purple eyes.
"What do you know… you who just crawled out of that cesspool…"
—
Not far away, Eileen sat on Sicarius's shoulder, still clutching the short sword.
She asked in her mind, her voice low.
"Old Huang, this giant serpent seems to be Roboute and Mortarion's brother… is there any hope for him?"
"Since brother Mortarion could turn back… then could he also…"
Deep in her mind, a long, pitying sigh echoed.
[Different, Eileen.]
Old Huang's voice lacked its usual banter, replaced by a sigh of profound understanding.
[Mortarion was deceived. Even in his final moments, his thoughts were still focused on protecting his sons from suffering. Deep within his soul remained an anchor of 'humanity.' And his essential soul was still intact.]
[But this one…]
Old Huang looked through Eileen's eyes at the daemon Primarch, who was posing and preening.
[Ten thousand years ago, the moment he first picked up that sword, that noble soul had already begun its fall.]
[Later, though he had moments of lucidity, he willingly sacrificed himself to that purple-skinned pervert to escape.]
[Now, he is nothing but a pure daemon in a Primarch's skin.]
[His essential soul has been taken by Slaanesh. Only desire, narcissism, and cruelty remain.]
Old Huang's voice turned serious.
[There is no saving him.]
[We can only proceed with… the final judgment.]
Eileen paused for a second, then nodded.
"Understood."
She looked up at the arena.
At that moment, Fulgrim seemed to sense the tightening killing intent.
But he felt no fear.
On the contrary, a more fanatical, twisted smile appeared on his eerily beautiful face.
It was a perverse psychology that transformed impending danger into enjoyment.
"Want to take my life?"
Fulgrim extended his long tongue, licking the Blade of the Laer until it cut him, purple blood flowing into his mouth.
"Then come on! My brothers!"
He assumed a fighting stance, each of his four arms gripping a weapon, his serpentine tail taut.
"Let me see how much pain you can inflict on me! Let me see how perfect this final act will be!"
"Then so be it."
The silent Ferrus Manus took his first step.
Thump.
With that heavy footstep, the battle erupted.
This was no fair duel.
Boom!!
Guilliman launched the first attack.
The flames on the Emperor's Sword surged, transforming into a golden fire dragon, aimed straight for Fulgrim's face.
The powerful attack from the Emperor's own weapon forced Fulgrim to raise both swords to parry.
Clang!
Blades clashed, sparks flying.
Just as Fulgrim was about to use the momentum to counterattack, a grey shadow appeared like a ghost on his left.
Mortarion's "Judgement" scythe, gleaming with a soul-rending chill, slashed toward Fulgrim's thick serpentine tail.
Hiss—!
Fulgrim was forced to twist his body to dodge, but the scythe still left a deep wound on his body.
Psychic flames burned along the wound, preventing it from healing.
"Ah! That feels good!"
Fulgrim screamed, lashing his poisoned whip at Mortarion.
But before he could retract the whip, a massive figure engulfed in black flames had already charged in front of him.
Ferrus Manus.
Without any fancy techniques,
he raised his enormous Forgebreaker warhammer high.
Bang!!!
The hammer slammed heavily into Fulgrim's purple-gold breastplate.
The armour shattered like paper, leaving a dent in Fulgrim's chest.
The force of the hammer blow was astonishing, sending Fulgrim flying backward.
Cough!
Fulgrim coughed up a mouthful of purple blood.
But before he even hit the ground, Guilliman was already waiting at his landing spot.
"For humanity!"
Guilliman swept his sword horizontally.
Swish!
Fulgrim's arm—the arm that held the whip—was severed at the shoulder.
"Aaaaaah!!"
Fulgrim screamed and rolled, trying to create distance.
But this was a dead end.
Mortarion's scythe blocked his left path, and Ferrus's warhammer blocked his right.
And Eileen's damned golden aura was suppressing his power like a millstone, preventing him from even dodging.
It was a one-sided crushing defeat.
Five minutes later,
the battle was over.
The once-invincible, self-proclaimed perfect Primarch lay on the ground like a dead dog.
Two of his arms were severed cleanly, golden flames burning at the cuts.
His proud purple serpentine tail was mostly gone, leaving only his mangled body twitching helplessly on the ground.
He tried to struggle to his feet, but a warhammer engulfed in black fire pressed against his chest, rendering him immobile.
Ferrus looked down at him.
Behind him, Guilliman and Mortarion stood on either side.
Further back were the silent heroic spirits.
Akurduana, Tarvitz, Rylanor…
They formed a circle, looking down at their former father, now a monster.
"It is over, Fulgrim."
Ferrus's voice was completely flat.
"The moment of judgment… has arrived."