Chapter 466: Taviz

The Emperor's Children's warband. This was the first time.

Saur rushed toward the breached Cargo Bay 8-13, sifting through his mind for information on the Emperor's Children.

The Emperor's Children, Fulgrim's progeny, the former Third Legion, whose duty was the pursuit of perfection, a legion brimming with pride.

Yet their pursuit of perfection and their pride had twisted into an insatiable hunger, a craving for power and glory, and a contempt for all else.

Saur looked down on these traitors; he even despised them, believing they possessed none of the pride they claimed.

True pride does not parade itself on the tongue—it restrains the self through rigid discipline, learns and absorbs others' strengths with humility, and hones itself endlessly. Pride itself is not a virtue; pride arises from virtue.

Those who constantly flaunt pride are merely hiding their inferiority and emptiness. Saur despised those who bore the name of the Emperor's Children yet betrayed the Emperor—they were nothing but Zibeidexiaochou.

Though emotionally Saur despised them,

rationally he deemed the traitorous Emperor's Children extremely dangerous.

Their arrogance warped their minds; their pursuit of perfection drove them to obsessively refine their skills; their craving for pleasure led them to inject themselves with vast quantities of neurotoxins and stimulants. They were the most corrupted of all the Traitor Legions—and thus had gained the greatest power.

Of course, Saur was not worried these fools could inflict real damage on the Lord of Light.

They could never leave Cargo Bay 8-13.

As the leader of the Primarchs, Saur knew things the others did not.

On the Lord of Light, beyond their visual blind spots, there existed another group of shadow crewmembers.

These were the Invisible Hands of Saint Dora, composed of Astartes trained by the Night Lords and, uh, psychic-specialized subhumans.

Whenever the Lord of Light was breached, these shadow crewmembers became invisible barriers—if the intruders exceeded their designated boundaries, they intervened and summoned stronger warriors for support.

Of course, if it came to that, it meant the Primarchs had failed.

That would be shameful. Saur would not allow it.

Saur arrived swiftly at the entrance of Cargo Bay 8-13—the ship's layout was disorienting; though labeled 8-13, there was no 8-12 or 8-14—only 8-13, 8-22, 8-169, 8-222, and so on.

This was another peculiar trait of the Lord of Light: every bay's number was deliberately tied to the digits 13 or 22.

Saur burst into the bay and immediately heard combat already raging.

Many Primarch warriors were locked in battle with traitors clad in purple-and-black power armor, emitting blasphemous, lewd laughter.

Seeing the purple armor, Saur felt an inexplicable surge of rage.

He himself wore purple power armor—did these traitors even deserve to wear the noble, honorable color of purple?

Saur swiftly sought the leader of this traitor warband. It was not difficult: Fulgrim's sons never hid—they displayed themselves on the battlefield with the most brazen arrogance.

He was a Chaos Lord clad in radiant violet Acheron-class Terminator armor, his shoulders bearing a twisted double-headed eagle clutching lightning, his body inlaid with glittering gems, wielding a grotesque, contorted blade, and trailing vials of colored liquids that pumped into his body through flexible tubes.

Clearly, this man led the warband.

Saur drew his sword, ready to leap and strike the Chaos Lord down.

But at that moment, the Chaos Lord raised his twisted blade and shouted: "For the Emperor!"

Saur nearly stumbled to the ground.

"For the Emperor!!"

Looking at the grotesque, oversized Astartes, the Chaos Lord of the Emperor's Thunder, Antonibar, let out a mocking war cry.

The Emperor's Children once used "For the Emperor" as their battle cry, signifying their special status and loyalty to the Emperor.

After the Great Betrayal, the Emperor's Children still used it—but now it was irony, mockery.

The name "Emperor's Thunder" was the same: meant to declare their origin from the Emperor's Children, yet also to mock. Antonibar had heard the Emperor once used a thunder-clutching eagle as his personal emblem.

So Antonibar twisted that emblem and named his warband "Emperor's Thunder" to insult the Emperor.

For ten thousand years, Antonibar and his followers had borne this name of mockery and blasphemy, ravaging the galaxy unchecked.

Until recently, Antonibar led a raid on an Imperial merchant vessel.

It was a simple job—a merchant ship guarded only by mortals.

Antonibar and his men were Emperor's Children. This was merely a routine plunder, a humiliation of mortals, a massacre and a feast.

Until from the dark bay emerged a hooded figure reeking of blood, wielding a rune-etched chainsword—a Chaos Astartes.

That cursed thing inexplicably defended the merchant ship, slaughtering over two hundred of Antonibar's brothers. Had it not been for the teleporter on his Terminator armor, Antonibar himself would have died on that freighter.

For a Chaos warband, the loss of two hundred Astartes was nearly irreparable—their gene-seed was corrupted, making replenishment already difficult.

Fortunately, at that moment, Erebus issued an invitation: Antonibar was to ambush and harass a ship, and in return, Erebus would deliver three hundred pure gene-seeds.

It was a good offer—but Erebus also sent someone to take command of the Emperor's Thunder.

Lusius, the Chosen of Slaanesh, a detested bastard who had never been welcomed by the Emperor's Children during the Great Crusade, tolerated only Mianqiang by the "good man" Tavil.

Yet this man somehow won the favor of the Hungering Lord and became a Chosen of Slaanesh—and now he sought to seize Antonibar's warband.

Kill this bastard, this beast, this damned creature—Antonibar made his decision.

Then, in single combat, he took Lusius's life, severed his head, killed the beast, and claimed his sword.

When Erebus learned of this, he indeed showed Antonibar greater respect, promising four hundred pure gene-seeds if Antonibar completed the mission.

Antonibar swung the twisted blade he'd taken from Lusius, effortlessly slicing through a red-armored Primarch warrior, tearing his flesh apart.

What a fine sword.

Holding it, Antonibar felt he was on the verge of great honor.

Such a fine blade, wasted on the insignificant Lusius—what a pity.

The thought of having slain the Chosen of Slaanesh filled Antonibar with delight and pride.

So the Chosen of Slaanesh was nothing special after all.

Antonibar even felt he could replace Lusius.

This was no delusion—he truly felt his strength growing.

The Hungering Lord's blessing seemed to be growing within him, refining his swordsmanship, amplifying his power, and swelling his pride.

"For the Emperor!" Antonibar shrieked his mocking war cry after cleaving another Primarch warrior.

"Traitor, do not desecrate the Emperor's name." Saur growled, surging toward Chaos Lord Antonibar like a purple storm.

His blade was sharp and lethal, swift as a bird's wingbeat—suddenly aimed at Antonibar's throat.

Antonibar shrieked, raising his twisted blade to clash against Saur's.

He noticed Saur's refined, elegant swordsmanship, his purple power armor, and the phoenix emblem on his shoulder.

"Ha! Brother, how did you end up with these commoners?"

Antonibar sneered.

"Have you forgotten the pride of being Fulgrim's son?"

Saur's face darkened with fury. He growled, firm and clear: "I am Roge Dorn's son!"

". h?" Antonibar froze, stunned.

Saur seized the moment, swinging a punch straight at Antonibar's face.

Antonibar's attention was fixed on Saur's blade—he never saw the fist coming.

The blow shattered his nasal bone; he screamed, staggered back, trembling.

"You little beast, how dare you touch my face—"

Saur was ready to press his advantage with a sword strike, but before Antonibar finished speaking, he let out a piercing shriek and roar.

"No, what is this?" Antonibar stared in horror as his hair began falling out strand by strand, his face cracking with twisted wrinkles, screaming uncontrollably.

His armor slowly twisted and deformed—from Terminator armor into a sleek Mk. IV Exterminator suit, its surface embedded with countless screaming, contorted human faces.

Antonibar's own face shifted, becoming one of the screaming faces on his chestplate.

Saur stared at the bald, scarred, Yaoxie man Antonibar had become.

Merely looking at this man, Saur felt a surge of contempt and hatred coursing through his gene-seed.

The man extended an impossibly long tongue to lick his lips, gazing at Saur as if admiring an intriguing prey.

"Taviz Saur. Taviz."

(End of Chapter)