Chapter 389: Return

Torrents of blood rain rained down upon the battlefield; Valerian, captain of the shield guard, drove his spear, Knowledge, through the crimson droplets toward the scarlet flesh of the Somme, wrapped in barbed wire.

But Valerian felt no satisfying cut of flesh on his hands.

The barbed wire clamped tightly around Knowledge, utterly ignoring the crackling disintegration field at the spearhead, rendering Valerian's thrust utterly immobile.

Those barbed wires seemed to possess some strange power alien to the material universe, as if, in countless eyes, they were unbreakable—any attack upon them was meaningless, only adding to death.

The Somme—Valerian now knew the name of this great demon.

The Grey Knights recognized this demon's identity: a great demon born from humanity's brutal wars nearly thirty thousand years ago.

But the Somme was not its true name; the Somme was merely a designation.

This bloody demon's name was written upon the corpses of nearly 1. million dead, whose shattered flesh, torn apart by the Battle of the Somme, formed its body.

The names of those 1. million souls were its true name, and many of those names had long been forgotten.

Even the Grey Knights, through prophecy and historical exploration, could not fully restore them—thus they could not weaken the Somme by uttering its true name.

This was why the Somme dared reveal itself before humanity—he was certain even the Grey Knights could not target him.

But.

The Silent Sisters' figures approached Valerian like ghosts, their anti-psychic fields clinging to the Somme's body like shadows.

The Somme let out a scream of agony; the power of the barbed wire on his body weakened drastically.

Valerian spun Knowledge; the disintegration field at its tip erupted, shearing off a massive chunk of scarlet flesh.

"We are complete," Valerian murmured almost to himself.

After ten thousand years, the Imperial Guard and the Silent Sisters fought side by side once more.

In mere moments of battle, Valerian understood the immense advantage these soulless sisters brought to the Imperial Guard.

Against demons, the Imperial Guard as individuals were far inferior to the Grey Knights; only with the Silent Sisters were they whole and unbroken.

Tactics long confined to training—fighting alongside the Silent Sisters—unfurled from Valerian as if instinct itself.

The Somme roared with primal fury; his wings, forged of metal and flesh, rained bullets upon Valerian.

Mortars, cannons, machine guns, grenades, brass bullets—every crude, primitive weapon aimed at Valerian.

"Purge the demon!!"

The Grey Knights' battle cry rose; Grey Knight Inquisitor Alquin raised his warhammer before Valerian.

His psychic power erupted like lightning, weaving into a shield that blocked the barrage.

"Ugh—" Alquin, a psyker, could not suppress a gag.

The Silent Sisters' anti-psychic fields were mostly focused on the Somme, yet their very presence suppressed psychic energy and phenomena of the Warp.

All Grey Knights were psykers, and thus they too were affected—but the Grey Knights fared better; at least they possessed robust Astartes bodies capable of enduring these negative effects.

And.

"Ugh!!!!" Commander Leina of the Cadian 184th threw up as if expelling every meal she'd ever eaten.

Vomit mixed with bread and ink pooled at her feet.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but Valerian felt Leina's eyes had grown clearer—as if she'd vomited out all her knowledge.

Commander Leina had expended too much psychic energy and could no longer resist the discomfort caused by the Silent Sisters' anti-psychic field.

Though the Silent Sisters brought some negative effects, they were indispensable on this battlefield.

War—before the Imperial Palace, a brutal war raged.

Humans in war feared, grew weary, and tired.

But the Blood God's Unliving legions did not.

The fiercer the war, the stronger these demons, who craved battle, became.

Only the Silent Sisters could strip away the war's enhancements granted to them.

The only problem: only the Imperial Guard could maintain full combat effectiveness before the Silent Sisters.

All mortals, Astartes, and psykers without exception suffered under the Silent Sisters' anti-psychic field.

Only the Imperial Guard—only the Imperial Guard—were the Silent Sisters' perfect allies.

But now, only Valerian stood before the Lion's Gate, fighting alone.

He looked toward the Lion's Gate with faint hope, wishing they might break free from their chains.

But the gate did not open; behind the Lion's Gate lay only silence.

Valerian, disappointed, turned and clashed his spear against the Somme's chainsword.

The clash of axe and spear echoed through the void—like a colossal bronze bell—

No, not only the clash of weapons—there were footsteps too.

Valerian turned in surprise and saw the gate opening.

The crimson-and-gold Lion's Gate swung wide, opening toward the blood-soaked battlefield, toward this world.

"By the authority granted to the High Lords of Terra by the Emperor, and with the consent of six of the twelve High Lords, the decree known as the Restriction Act—signed by former Imperial Guard Commander-in-Chief Constantine Valdo, Imperial Commander Roboute Guilliman, Rogal Dorn, and the High Lords—is hereby annulled."

"The ten-thousand-year restriction is ended. The Imperial Guard shall now act freely within the Palace, Terra, and anywhere across the galaxy where they are needed."

Tiruien's hoarse roar echoed from the towering walls above the Lion's Gate; to deliver this news to the Imperial Guard as swiftly as possible, he used the wall's loudspeakers to announce the lifting of the Restriction Act:

"In the name of Imperial Chancellor Tiruien and the High Lords' Council, may our decrees be the very embodiment of the Emperor's will."

The only response to Tiruien was the clanking of golden armor against stone.

The army, confined within the Palace for ten thousand years, surged forth from the Lion's Gate—red, gold, and black formations gleamed in the blood rain; the glow of their spears pierced even the smoke of war.

Never since the Webway Wars ten thousand years ago had such a vast host of Imperial Guard assembled in one place.

Golden banners fluttered across the crimson sky; the eagle clutching lightning's emblem had not faded in ten thousand years—just as Valerian had heard in legend and history, as if the army before him had marched straight from ten thousand years past, pristine, untouched, never having left the battlefield.

Valerian saw Marshal Trajan standing at the heart of the formation, leading the charge, the Watcher's Axe blazing fiercely, shattering the demon's crimson tide.

He saw the Alerius Terminators—hard, solid, radiant as newborn stars—crushing the bloodthirsty Khorne Unliving like walls of molten gold.

He saw the Galatus Dreadnoughts, towering and revered, their bodies spewing fire and steam as the honored dead, long deceased, wielded sword and shield in their ancient, endless slaughter.

The double-headed eagle emblem stood firm as steel across every inch of the battlefield; Sword Masters charged great demons with massive blades, Shield Captain and Bloodthirster clashed in close combat.

The Blood God's crimson tide met the Emperor's golden host; fury churned the blood rain into a vortex; pure-gold swords tore through brass beasts.

Two Alerius Terminators and one Sword Master stood beside Valerian, fighting alongside the Silent Sisters as they had ten thousand years ago, advancing upon the Bloodthirster Somme.

Fight, fight, still fight—Valerian had never fought so freely; he cut, crushed, and broke the demon's flesh and blood.

He let out a deafening battle cry—for the first time in his life, he nearly lost himself in this moment.

This was not merely battle or slaughter—it was glory.

The glory Valerian had only heard from veterans, read in records, or glimpsed in hypnosis—ten-thousand-year-old, shattered glory—reappeared and became real.

He watched Marshal Trajan personally execute a great demon with the Watcher's Axe, then drove his own spear, Knowledge, into the neck of the Bloodthirster Somme.

The Myriad Regiment marched forward, charging the Emperor, humanity, and the enemies of the Imperial Guard, unleashing ten thousand years of accumulated rage.

We have returned.

Valerian thought this—but he did not notice, did not notice, that the sky of Terra had subtly changed.

The crimson clouds tore open; the blood rain fell harder than before, nearly smashing into the ground and reality itself.

Fierce madness raged across Terra, across this planet, watched by the God of War since the dawn of humanity.

The Blood God was the first Chaos God to recognize humanity's potential; he knew humanity was an exceptional race, destined to ignite countless brutal wars across the ages.

The Blood God favored humanity; the Blood God favored Terra; for tens of thousands of years, he had coveted Terra.

For one fleeting instant, had the Imperial Guard looked up, they would have seen the sky become a vast, horned, burning face.

That face was as large as the planet; its steel-covered eyes brimmed with malice and the lust for slaughter.

Leina vomited every memory-bread she'd eaten before battle; knowledge of Terra and the Palace vanished from her mind.

Yet this made Leina feel strangely comfortable—those memories had been like indigestible food, stuck in her skull, a burden.

Now she felt refreshed, invigorated; her perception of the Warp sharpened, and her psychic power surged back rapidly.

Leina's body jolted violently; she felt a gaze—from the Warp—a gaze filled with blood, slaughter, and madness.

The gaze made her head throb, her body tremble uncontrollably—it was not directed at her, but at all of Terra, at the Palace.

"Saint Dora, Emperor above," Leina's tongue trembled like a knotted rope.

She saw the boundary of reality thinning; endless cries of slaughter poured from the Blood God's realm.

"I have forgiven!"

"Kill for me!"

Deafening battle cries echoed; blood surged like a tide.

Even the Imperial Guard stared in dread at the scene before them.

A meteor, blazing with blood-red fire, plummeted from the heavens; a roar erupted like eight hundred eighty million brass war drums sounding together.

Eight twisted horns spread in monstrous splendor; the two axes, named Slaughter and Carnage, screamed with the dying cries of the defeated.

It was slaughter. It was destruction. It was the Blood God's greatest champion.

It had shattered the first ring of Slaanesh's palace; it had slain Nurgle's grand plague Leviathan; it had slaughtered countless enemies for the Blood God, offering him countless victories and skulls.

But it ultimately betrayed the Blood God, seduced by Tzeentch, ambushing him and carving a gash into the Blood God's armor.

Enraged, the Blood God hurled it from the highest peak of the Brass Fortress; it flew through the Warp for eight days and eight nights before landing.

Its consciousness burned away in that journey, leaving only endless bloodlust.

Its wings shattered during the fall, never to soar again through the crimson sky.

Its body was grievously wounded; its arm wielding the blood-axe no longer held its former strength.

It was banished, punished, stripped of its title as Chief Great Demon.

But today, to bring slaughter to Terra, the Blood God forgave its betrayal and cowardice.

Like a grotesque bloodwing composed of a thousand burning stars, it spread before the Gate of the Lion, blood rain dripping from its fleshy wings, the once-broken wings now fully restored.

After countless eons, Khorne's first Grand Daemon was reborn.

Skarbrand returned.

(End of Chapter)