This madman.
'Robert' genuinely couldn't understand how anyone could act with this level of absolute recklessness.
He had torn the Eye of Terror open by force and unleashed his Warp Daemon legions into the material universe.
What Chaos had sought for tens of millions of years without achieving — Perturabo had accomplished it in a single moment of fury.
Even 'Robert,' after successfully seizing power, had consciously kept Chaos's influence at bay.
But Perturabo's actions had exceeded everyone's imagination by an enormous margin.
That terrifying strength, that total and complete madness without any restraint — every faction of traitors across the board was in a panic.
Not just the traitors. Even the Chaos entities across every universe were in a panic.
When the Eye of Terror was torn open, they had been extraordinarily excited at first — but the smiles didn't last long.
Because the remaining four corners of the Chaos Star of Eight had been forcibly sealed shut.
The Malefic Discipline's position was occupied. The other three positions were also blocked by two distinct presences.
Especially the northern position — Erosion and Destruction. That damnable Cursed One had appeared again.
And this time the aura coming off him was stronger than it had ever been before.
As for why the Chaos entities were so certain of this —
Because the Emperor and Perturabo had simultaneously launched war against the Chaos Gods of all four timelines, fighting on every front at once.
Crossing the barriers of dimension and time, both of them appeared simultaneously in the Warp-space of four different dimensions.
The Emperor had claimed almost the entirety of the northern position of the Star of Eight. Perturabo had already taken the Malefic Discipline, and was forcibly claiming the majority of both Kairos and the Formless Wastes as well.
The simultaneous channelling from four galaxies had brought both of them to a level of presence that was genuinely terrifying.
"This time — I'm not just going to kill you. I'm going to make you disappear from the Warp entirely."
Perturabo's enormous steel form suddenly bristled with weapons beyond counting. The massive fire network that almost entirely covered all four daemon realms made the four Chaos Gods feel, for the first time, what genuine war actually looked like.
The first to engage was still the brainless one — Khorne's enthusiasm for war and skulls would always rank first regardless of circumstance.
This time the Emperor also didn't yield. Horus was dead. He had no more patience for distinguishing right from wrong.
Black flames burning across his entire body. A great black-flamed sword carrying termination and destruction came down hard against all four Warp-space iterations of Khorne simultaneously.
Perturabo's vast form casually condensed an enormous warhammer and brought it down.
Dealing with this rabble — since they were all now roughly comparable in tier, the approach was simply to pile on the raw numbers and overwhelm them.
The ferocity of both of them substantially exceeded what the Chaos entities across all four galaxy Warp-spaces had anticipated.
The Emperor in particular was an absolute counter to Chaos. Every move made Khorne and Nurgle suffer in ways they found difficult to endure.
Even Slaanesh — which endlessly pursued the most exquisite sensations — found no enjoyment in facing the Emperor's fury. Its "senses" simply couldn't convert this kind of damage into pleasure.
Tzeentch had it worst of all. If not for that damnable big blue bird manipulating other-universe traitors into the conflict, the other three could never have conceived of such a plan. As a consequence, Tzeentch absorbed the most punishment of the four.
Nearly every critical hit landed on it. And because the four Chaos Gods couldn't get along with each other — even at this moment of existential threat, their internal conflicts had not stopped.
Periodically they would deliver underhanded blows to the deity beside them. Khorne and Tzeentch were on the receiving end of the most backstabbing.
This made both Perturabo and the Emperor deeply contemptuous.
Calling them animals was an insult to animals. At a moment like this, still unable to stop fighting each other — no wonder they had never managed to accomplish anything significant in all these millennia.
And these were the entities that spent every day dreaming of invading the material universe. All you could say was that material-universe life forms had simply been disorganised enough to allow these incompetents to find their opening. Otherwise there was no possibility of it.
Ferrus, Sanguinius, and the Khan arrived in the galaxy of 'Horus's' great rebellion.
Chaos had been kept occupied by the Father and the Warmaster. Without Chaos's power pouring into them, these traitors — however strong — couldn't push that strength to any great degree. The three Primarchs were more than sufficient.
It also had to be said — on a conventional battlefield, setting aside the Iron Warriors and Ultramarines, the Iron Hands' combat power made even the Dark Angels and Imperial Fists feel the sting of comparison.
Especially with Perturabo's assistance — the Iron Hands, who had the most widespread Resentment Intelligence integration of any Legion, had become even more formidable in precision fire coverage.
Previously they still needed precision. Now they had simply shifted to total fire coverage.
Ferrus himself had also updated and iterated on his personal backpack multiple times. The firepower and weapons inside it were now comparable to a small cruiser.
Few people understood how such a small backpack contained that much firepower and weaponry. Perturabo wasn't going to explain it to them. Ferrus, who had now essentially comprehended the majority of Necron technology, was genuinely frightening in how capable he had become.
This was especially evident when he encountered the re-emerged 'Fulgrim' and 'Sons of Horus.' The crushing dominance he demonstrated broke through the traitors' layered defences in moments.
Too much. Too dense. Bolt rounds and gauss beams denser than heavy rain covered every position.
Under the Titan Legions' and heavy vehicle's plasma macro-cannons and Volcano Cannon fire, the traitors' defensive lines were broken through in barely an hour.
Their fortifications and shield systems were completely incapable of holding against the sky-blotting fire and orbital strikes.
And then there were the Resentment Intelligence forces and the Morlocks Terminators conducting decapitation strikes — their individual combat power was absurd, and they inflicted essentially one-sided total suppression even on the traitors.
The elites of both sides simply weren't operating at comparable levels — especially since the traitors had already been significantly depleted during the initial invasion.
This galaxy's defensive lines collapsed quickly. Ferrus essentially wrapped up the entire Ghoul Stars and Solar Segmentum front single-handedly. The expeditionary forces and Iron Hands under his command produced continuous victories.
Especially after no longer needing to concern himself with supply lines or corruption — Ferrus had completely removed his restraints. He had abandoned considerable moral constraints, engaging the traitors in an absolute contest of who was willing to go lower.
The results were predictable. The Ghoul Stars in this galaxy fell by a quarter within three months — and the Solar Segmentum, being attacked simultaneously, fell even faster.
Genuinely staggering.
It was only at this moment that Sanguinius and the Khan fully grasped just how terrifying a heavy-firepower Legion of engineers could be.
Perturabo and the Iron Warriors were a special case — but Ferrus was different.
The Iron Hands' Clan Warriors, forged through Medusa's brutal conflicts, every single one of them possessed deep expertise in heavy firepower and tactics.
And they no longer had moral constraints.
Sanguinius and the Khan said nothing. Even the Emperor and the Warmaster had given the order — this Crusade was pure vengeance. They had come with the conviction to end every traitor completely.
And with the opportunity to link five galaxies directly before them — once these territories were taken, governance could be handled by specialists later. Resources would be a question for those who came after.
For now — kill.
Sanguinius watched 'Angron' and 'Magnus' appearing again in the material universe ahead of him. He drew a deep breath, raised the spear and sword blade Perturabo had forged for him personally, and charged.
Behind him, multiple Titan Legions followed. The Blood Angels no longer suppressed the Red Thirst — every one of them had essentially abandoned reason, crashing through rebel defensive line after rebel defensive line with complete disregard for self-preservation.
The Khan, advancing through the Storm Sectors, encountered 'Mortarion' — the daemon prince who had already been banished back here once before.
"Looks like we have another 'fierce battle' between us, 'Mortarion.'"
The Khan grinned, hundreds of Iron Circles advancing in step behind him, plasma weapons and melta already eager.
"Shameless!"
'Mortarion's' eyes reddened. The wings on his back spread to their full extent. The respirator on his face drew and expelled heavy breath. A thick stench radiated off him. Plague and pestilence began spreading in every direction.
But none of this had any effect on the Khan or the Iron Circles.
"Survive first, then we'll talk — traitor. You and every last one of your sons are going to die. This time, no matter how many times you resurrect, Father and the Warmaster will not let any of you go."
'Mortarion' didn't waste words either. He raised his Warscythe and charged.
The Lion brought Russ, Sanguinius, and Magnus to the galaxy of his own 'self's' rebellion.
The Lion's pride exceeded even Fulgrim's. He would not permit a version of himself to betray the Emperor and become a traitor.
He was going to deal with them personally.
Without the Chaos Gods' continuous power pouring in, these traitors were considerably diminished. At least 'Angron' and 'Magnus' could see it clearly—
Bang.
Angron's phase-cleaver clashed hard against 'Sanguinius's' weapon.
'Sanguinius,' who had devoted himself to Khorne, was substantially outmatched in close combat by Angron.
In that single exchange, Angron knew — the traitors right now were nothing but paper tigers.
Compared to what they had been during the invasion, the difference was enormous.
"What's this — without your master's blessing, you've already gotten this weak? Traitor."
Angron showed no mercy in his mockery. The phase-cleaver descended at a speed and with a force that even a Primarch would have struggled to defend against, driving into 'Sanguinius' again and again.
His wounds multiplied. But the traitor, having lost pain sensation, paid it no concern.
"You should have wagged your tail more for your master. Flapped your wings in front of it. Sung its praises. Maybe then you'd be a little stronger right now."
"Instead of being like this — a mangy beast without a hair of fighting ability left."
'Sanguinius' was furious. But as Angron said — he was too weakened now. He could only retreat under the relentless pressure.
When Magnus saw 'Russ' again — he found it genuinely difficult to imagine how the End-Times Great Wolf, which he had once expended enormous effort and sacrificed an entire Tutor-Prime to successfully banish, had come to look like this.
"You've become weak, brother."
The Thousand Sons had already opened up with their psyker Titans and begun the assault on 'Fenris.'
The fierce fire shredded the already-reduced 'Space Wolves.' The battle had become entirely one-sided.
Magnus and 'Russ' came into contact. Their enormous psychic avatars — each the scale of an Emperor-class Titan — slammed into each other hard. The shockwave cleared the surrounding several kilometres.
This was a battle between two demi-gods alone.
But this time, 'Russ's' strength did not overcome Magnus.
"You never should have turned traitor, brother. Look at what you've become."
Magnus drove a fist into 'Russ's' face. His left hand seized one of the great horns and wrenched.
"ROARRRR!"
'Russ's' howl of pain brought no excitement to Magnus — only an undisguised sadness in his chest.
"You've completely become a monster, brother."
"Let me end your suffering."
Guilliman brought Fulgrim, Konrad, Corvus, Mortarion, and Lorgar to this most dangerous galaxy.
The traitor empire had been built into an iron fortress. It contained the most powerful traitor forces, and the most formidable defensive lines.
The Imperial forces invested here were consequently the largest allocation.
A third of the Iron Warriors and the entire Death Watch had come here. The Black Shields — composed largely of repentant Astartes — had been concentrated entirely in this theatre as well.
Guilliman watched the Astronomican rising steadily in the stars overhead. The traitor hadn't extinguished it.
He didn't seem like a traitor, because this empire was considerably better than the Imperium had been before the rebellion. The administrative workload he was handling was enough to kill and resurrect Malcador several times over.
He had even isolated Chaos's erosion of the material universe here — even while he himself had consumed nearly half of this galaxy's Chaos influence.
It was no longer really possible to call this a betrayal. Guilliman didn't know how to evaluate his own counterpart's actions. If it were before, he acknowledged that knowing what his other self had done might not have moved him at all.
But — with his sons massacred and corrupted by nearly half, and with his adoptive mother taken — he had already decided. He was going to deal with this wretch personally.
Primarchs who had fully awakened their fundamental nature — there were currently only two: Perturabo, and Guilliman himself.
And the person who had allowed him to fully understand his own nature was his other self.
Now it was time to settle this.
Lorgar disliked this galaxy intensely. The people here had perfectly decent living standards — and yet everything here felt fundamentally wrong to him.
And Lorgar, whose innermost heart had completely transformed into a near-fanatical devotion to the Emperor, would not tolerate the existence of any heresy here.
Not even a single pauper was acceptable.
The offensive Lorgar launched was even more ferocious than the enormous Ultramarines forces.
The Word Bearers — carrying fanatic faith and Resentment Intelligence forces — tore a massive breach through the Halo Stars positions by sheer force.
The Black Shields — composed largely of 'Word Bearers' — also performed with considerable courage on the battlefield. The moment to prove their loyalty again had arrived. This Crusade of Penance was their best opportunity to complete their redemption.
The Iron Daemon legions mixed in with the Iron Warriors. In a single glance, the Iron Warriors veterans recognised these former brothers.
Father had never abandoned any of them. Even in death, their souls would be rescued.
"Commander Tolaramino — it has been a long time."
Tolaramino looked at the steel giant who had completely transformed into something the scale of a Warhound Titan, and felt something stir in him.
"Triarus — it has been a long time."
"It seems Father had our path arranged for us even after death."
"Commander — the Warp is not a good place. Father had no desire for us to come here. If you can, live well. Don't come here."
"Don't worry — who wants to die if they can stay alive? I haven't had enough wine and steaks yet. My perfect war-fortress still hasn't been built. I'm not ready to die."
Fulgrim and Mortarion's advance wasn't going smoothly.
'Robert's' defensive lines were unremarkable in design — but completely without gaps. He had accounted for every direction. His deployments across every stellar region, system, and individual planet were perfectly coordinated with each other.
Every single planet was linked to an entire star system, stellar region, and sector's overall combat deployment.
This made things extremely difficult for the Emperor's Children who favoured swift assault tactics, and for the Death Guard who fought best in sustained warfare.
Even with Resentment Intelligence forces and Iron Daemon legions assisting them, their progress along the front lines was unsatisfactory.
'Robert's' methods were genuinely sophisticated. He used flawless defences to effectively stall the Imperial advance and left everyone with no choice but to grind through it methodically.
Konrad and Corvus, however, were in their element across these battlefields.
Not suited to frontal combat — they had, before each engagement began, already infiltrated every command post to perform decapitation strikes.
However brilliantly 'Robert' had arranged his defences, they still needed people to command them. However many contingencies and fallbacks he had prepared, none of it could stop the Night Lords and Raven Guard from systematically eliminating every senior and junior commander.
In high-value target assassination — nobody did it better.
Guilliman simply applied overwhelming pressure on all fronts. If 'Robert' wanted to fight a strategic war, then he would fight a strategic war — and completely and thoroughly beat the traitor at it across every dimension.
This was Guilliman. Given time, he could analyse and defeat any enemy.
And Lorgar was currently clashing furiously with 'Sanguinius,' who had pledged himself to Slaanesh in this galaxy.
Every galaxy had been set entirely ablaze. Nothing to do with humanity's survival, nothing to do with Chaos invasion. Only vengeance.