Chapter 336: Luse Urinates on Laine

This is Kaos, the World of Death.

Once, Kaos was a lush, civilized world—a prosperous, thriving planet with manufacturing capacity rivaling Macragge; using an ancient artifact called the Superconducting Ring, the Kaosians could transport their agricultural and industrial goods cheaply into space, facilitating trade across all of Ultramar.

On the eve of the Great Crusade's end, Kaos had risen to become the sixth most important world in Ultramar; its people took pride in it, seeing it as a microcosm of Ultramar's eternal glory—today better than yesterday, tomorrow better than today, the golden dream never falling.

But nothing in this world is unbreakable.

The Word Bearers betrayed the Space Wolves on this world.

At the time, the traitor Horus had ordered the Space Wolves and the Word Bearers to join forces with Kaos to confront the threat of the Greenskins.

Roboute Guilliman judged that the Greenskins posed no real threat to the Imperium, but he wrongly believed Horus's true aim was to mend the rift between the Word Bearers and the Space Wolves since the Perfect City incident.

Thus, the Space Wolves warmly hosted the Word Bearers on Kaos—only to be met with betrayal, desecration, and sorcery of the Warp.

Kaos burned entire; this once-beautiful world lost its atmosphere, the golden dream shattered, most Kaosians died in the war, and the few survivors crawled in underground tunnels, barely clinging to life.

Since then, Kaos became an eternal pain in the Space Wolves' hearts.

Its status is roughly equivalent to Caliban for the Dark Angels, Prospero's Burning for the Thousand Sons, and the Perfect City for the Word Bearers.

And after ten thousand years, Roboute Guilliman, Lord of the Space Wolves, once again set foot upon Kaos's surface.

This is the last stronghold held by the Chaos traitors; once this war ends, all of Ultramar will return to Macragge's rule.

Inside the Imperial command post beneath Kaos's tunnels,

Guilliman stared grimly at the battle reports.

He was not grim because of Kaos's current battlefield situation, but because of all Kaos had endured during his ten-thousand-year slumber.

"During the Beast Wars, the Ork Battle Moon attacked Kaos."

"During the Tyranid Wars, the Tyranid executioner 'Old One-Eye' ravaged Kaos."

"Just recently, the Word Bearer demon prince Reborn M'Kaa dug up the grave I personally designed for Captain Remus Ventanus???"

Roboute Guilliman's temples bulged with veins, his face dark as if he wanted to tear the paper before him to shreds.

Zhou Yun picked up a handful of dust from the ground, watching Guilliman's grim expression; he had wanted to tell the classic joke about Kaos, the Perfect City, and the Thousand Sons to lighten the mood.

But just hearing Kaos's ten-thousand-year history of misfortune was enough to feel like hell.

What lay before him was

roughly like telling Lokar the Perfect City had been blown up three more times, and Anger Tae's tomb had been destroyed by the Space Wolves,

or telling Magnus that Prospero had been blown up three more times, and Leman Russ had urinated on Amon's ashes,

or telling Laine that Caliban had been blown up three more times, and Leman Russ had urinated on his bedhead.

"You're thinking of something disrespectful again," Sanguinius said, seeing Zhou Yun clutching Kaos's soil.

"Do you have any objections to my joke? It's perfect—it has near-infinite expandability."

"For example, modify it to:"

Zhou Yun grinned:

"A Dark Angel and a Thousand Son argue."

"The Dark Angel scoops up a handful of dust and throws it in the Thousand Son's face: 'This is the ash of Prospero!'"

"The Thousand Son retaliates, scooping up dust and throwing it in the Dark Angel's face: 'This is the shard of Caliban!'"

"At that moment, a Cadia warrior leaps out, shielding the dust: 'Stop! Stop! Cadia stands!'"

"Huh?" Captain Leina of Cadia 184th Regiment turned her gaze toward Zhou Yun.

"Yes, yes," Sanguinius nodded gently beside him: "You could extend it to your homeworld, Terra."

"After all, Terra's only advantage over Kaos is a layer of radioactive atmosphere—it's not much better."

Zhou Yun's face fell instantly.

Thinking of Terra now, blasted by nuclear bombs like a mad Max, no longer able to grow fruit—juicy, magical apples that could inspire Laine's dreams—he felt sorrow.

"I suppose this joke has a version involving Kaos and the Perfect City?" Guilliman set down his strategic report, his face twitching.

"The Primarch's superbrain is working," Zhou Yun nodded, confirming Guilliman's guess: "If you want to hear it, I'll tell you."

Guilliman's face darkened instantly: "I'll add a rule to the Codex Astartes: no jokes about Kaos, Caliban, Cadia, or any such worlds."

Hearing this, Sanguinius smiled brightly.

He spoke clearly to Guilliman: "If you dare write another one of your Ahriman-bred Codices, I'll shatter your Fate Armor with the Spear of Destiny, then have Corvus sew you into a Dreadnought—you won't write a single word for the rest of your life."

"The Codex Astartes has problems because it's not yet complete; if only I—" Guilliman argued.

But Sanguinius had already placed his hand on the Spear of Destiny.

Diggory and Mephyston, who had come with them, stepped back slightly, distancing themselves from the two Primarchs.

"We'll settle this when we return to Terra," Guilliman sighed, yielding: "First, end the war on Kaos—and across all of Ultramar."

Kaos is the last region in Ultramar still hosting organized Chaos forces.

Its underground is riddled with complex tunnel networks; the war here has dragged on for years.

To end the war swiftly and given Kaos's profound significance,

both Primarchs and Zhou Yun came to Kaos, each bringing their own Librarians.

"Roboute Guilliman's blue boys are biting hard,"

Kavaren, the War-Smith of the Bitter Sons warband, originating from the Iron Warriors, growled bitterly:

"Our allies are all a bunch of pigs!"

They hid in the shadows of Kaos's tunnels, wielding the inherited genius of their Primarch Perturabo, continuously building new defenses, kill zones, and trenches, holding at least one-third of Kaos's tunnels against the endless tide of Space Wolves.

Defeated Chaos forces from other worlds had all converged into Kaos's tunnels.

These forces should have been reinforcements for Kavaren, for the Bitter Sons.

But in Kavaren's eyes, every other warband was filled with pigs.

First, the World Eaters and Word Bearers warbands erupted into civil war; the Sons of Angron roared in madness, slaughtering Word Bearers; one World Eater Chaos Lord even ascended to Daemon Prince by stacking eight hundred Word Bearer skulls, then continued indiscriminate slaughter.

Then came the Black Legion warband, lured like pigs into traps prepared by the Space Wolves and slaughtered to the last.

The Emperor's Children warband—these hedonistic fools—ran away when they realized trench warfare didn't let them fully torment their enemies.

The Thousand Sons warband claimed they received their father's call and withdrew from the battlefield using psychic sorcery.

The Death Guard were even worse—they vanished from the Ultramar battlefield without even giving a reason.

And what of Kavaren's enemies? Thanks to the Iron Warriors' ancestral warcraft, Kavaren had once held over half of Kaos's tunnels.

But then the Space Wolves dragged in the Imperial Fists, who had come to Macragge for the ceremony, and somehow pulled in a host of Black Templars; once the Sons of Dorn joined the fight, the balance instantly shifted to parity.

Rumor says this was the idea of some depraved Saint Dora—the same one who made the Space Wolves urinate on the ashes of Thousand Sons' Red Book warriors, played recordings of the Perfect City's destruction before the Word Bearers, and turned a Blood Angels company's faces into Horus attacking the Black Legion—almost as depraved as Ahriman himself.

Now, Kavaren's Iron Warriors and other Chaos warbands hold one-third of the tunnels; the Black Templars, Imperial Fists, and Space Wolves hold the remaining two-thirds.

But it doesn't matter—they forged twelve layers of kill zones, transforming the tunnels into bunkers capable of withstanding virus bombs; even Dorn's sons couldn't break through this meat grinder—

A roar suddenly erupted above Kavaren; he and the Iron Warriors in the bunker looked up in terror as the ceiling shattered in an instant, flipping upward as if gravity reversed.

Vast swathes of earth were ripped up by howling psychic energy; the bunker disintegrated under the power of the Empyrean; the Chaos traitors hidden in the tunnel shadows were left utterly exposed to Kaos's vacuum.

Kavaren stared in dread at the airless sky, at the figures radiating immense psychic light, like stars.

As a War-Smith, Kavaren knew their names:

Captain Leina of Cadia 184th Regiment, the Saint Dora Prophet—she was the weakest among them, yet still casually hurled a mountain into the exposed tunnels.

Mephyston, Librarian of the Blood Angels, Lord of Death, returned from the Black Rage; his silver-steel blade swept the ground, turning the solid earth to dust.

Diggory, Chief Librarian of the Space Wolves, stood in the sky; psychic flames erupted from his eyes, nose, and mouth; lightning thicker than a hive city crackled around him.

And above them all, the figure soaring highest—Archangel Sanguinius, wings of white tinged with blue spread wide, his pure radiance illuminating Kaos's sky like a star, causing countless Chaos traitors below to scream in soul-deep agony.

Kavaren's face went slack. Had he poked the False Emperor's horn? Why must he face these four lunatics capable of blowing Kaos apart?

At this moment, both loyalists and traitors understood: the war on Kaos was over; the war across Ultramar was over.

In mere hours, their warbands would dissolve beneath the psychic might of these four madmen.

"Mechanized Device—Stellar Adalia." A voice echoed through the void.

Kavaren suddenly noticed the figure he had ignored—the one not radiating psychic light.

It was a blue, round, spherical figure with a strange propeller on its head.

The next instant, Kavaren understood: no hours were needed—they would die now.

The Stellar Adalia, a copy derived from the Blood Angels' Librarium and infused with the Emperor's immense psychic power, flashed on Kaos's horizon for less than a third of a second.

Then the earth dissolved; Kavaren felt himself swallowed by light, his power armor melting into the star's heat and the Emperor's psychic force.

"My Kaos!!!" Guilliman, watching from a distant command post, saw half of Kaos's continent dissolve in searing flame; he clenched his teeth.

Zhou Yun had been clutching this Stellar Adalia since Bal, and finally fired it—his mood lifted considerably.

After all, this weapon was a copy of a star bound by the Emperor's psychic power; even a brief release could melt continents and pierce planetary atmospheres, triggering global climate collapse.

But on Kaos, that didn't matter—Kaos was a dead world with no atmosphere, essentially just a giant rock; it had no climate to collapse, so Zhou Yun could unleash the power freely.

Yet Zhou Yun did not know that when he unleashed Stellar Adalia, the surge of the Emperor's psychic power had drawn the gaze of someone in the Empyrean.

"The Emperor's psychic power," Ahriman stood beside the shattered Webway, gazing at the fleeting psychic light in the Empyrean.

He wore a mask carved with ancient Prospero runes, hiding all expression; no one knew his true feelings—perhaps beneath that mask, no human flesh remained.

He turned to face the several Eldar Death Guard he had enslaved with his Nine Curses.

"Now, alien, tell me the secrets of your Death Guard."

Ahriman dragged his black staff forward, standing before the Death Guard.

He had wandered the Webways near Ultramar, waiting to capture Eldar Death Guard.

"No!" one wild Eldar Death Guard refused outright.

Ahriman said nothing; he simply swung his staff across the Eldar's head.

The wild Eldar Death Guard instantly turned to ash and vanished.

"Hm?" Ariman slightly furrowed his brow.

Where was the soul? Just an empty shell? No—he hadn't been able to bind the soul of this Death Soldier. Something had taken it away before him.

"Ahahaha!" As if noticing Ariman's expression, a Death Soldier dressed as a clown burst into wild laughter.

"Ariman! Our souls are protected by the human Death God Doraemon; after death, our spirits return to the twenty-second century. Where can your vile soul possibly go?"

The Death Soldier dressed as a clown mocked Ariman, then drew a deep breath:

"Pah! Traitor to humanity! I, loyal to the human race, despise you!"

A wad of spittle landed on Ariman's face.

Ariman clenched his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white.

To be called a traitor to humanity by a damn alien—how fucking infuriating!!!

(End of Chapter)