Chapter 493

"Murder."

Erebus whispered softly, withdrawing the ritual dagger from Titus's back; even the crimson blood could not obscure the malevolent gleam shimmering along the obsidian blade.

Erebus had once again accomplished what he did best: offering a precious Chosen to the gods.

A faint smile curled at Erebus's lips.

Not only because it pleased the Blood God and earned Erebus greater favor, but because the corrupted Titus, now a Khorne Chosen, would become a valuable weapon to turn against the Loyalists.

In Erebus's eyes, Titus's corruption was inevitable.

After all, even Horus could not withstand the corruption of the ritual dagger.

Moreover, the flame of wrath implanted within Titus by the Blood God had now slithered through the dagger into his body.

The Blood God himself had intervened to corrupt him—how could he possibly escape?

Could he?

Erebus remembered Sanguinius, remembered Rogal Dorn.

No no no, Titus was merely an ordinary Space Marine, a dismissed Second Company Captain—how could he be compared to a Primarch?

Erebus remembered countless Blood Angels, remembered Mephiston, remembered Dante, the Blood Knights.

No, none of these had been directly corrupted by the Blood God—only by Greater Daemons or indirect means.

Even if the Blood God truly could not corrupt Titus, surely he could still imprison his will and prevent his escape?

"Monster! How dare you!!" Kassos's roar erupted from behind Titus.

The Death Company Dreadnought launched into the air at a speed utterly incompatible with his bulk, lunging at Erebus.

"I freed him, Dreadnought."

Erebus flicked his fingers; a swarm of Tzeentchian shrieking sharks erupted from the void, blocking Kassos's path.

"I released him from the False Emperor's chains. I set him upon the Eightfold Blood Path. He shall become an eternal vessel of furious wrath—never dying, forever strong, forever enraged."

"Kassos, dead one, I can grant you the same boon. Chant: Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"Shove your brass toilet up your ass—does the Blood God want Kassos's shit?!" came the deafening blast from Kassos's speakers; his arm swung, crushing the shrieking sharks into pulp in an instant before he crashed heavily to the ground.

Erebus swiftly retreated, summoning another wave of Bloodletters from the void—demonic blood-riders mounted on steel bulls, swinging their hellblades toward the Death Company Dreadnought.

Kassos's power claw whirled and roared, seizing one steel bull and its rider, crushing them both.

Another Bloodletter slipped past Kassos's power claw, riding its steel bull to drive its horn-blade into his armor.

Kassos did not flinch—he swung his arm, smashing the bull and rider away like trash.

"Kassos! Dead one! Why cling to this futile resistance?"

"Titus has been blessed by the Blood God—he shall soon be born as a Chosen. Refuse the Blood God, and you will become Titus's sacrifice."

Erebus sneered coldly at Kassos.

But suddenly, Erebus's smile froze.

Titus was gone—the Titus who had stood there moments before had vanished.

Screeeeech!!!!

Erebus let out a piercing scream as his power armor was ripped open by a chainsword; blood gushed uncontrollably as the Innocent greedily drank the traitor's blood.

The Hand of Fate twisted aside, spun around, and filled the wound on his back with demons.

Had he not felt a sudden warning and evaded at the last instant, that blade would have severed his life outright.

Erebus stared at Titus standing before him.

Titus looked different now.

He seemed shrouded in a dull hue, like a figure standing in a deep alley under a rain-soaked night—cold, gray, spectral.

He stood there, yet felt unreal, radiating a dull, draining presence, spreading a quiet, chilling dread.

Something had been added to him.

But Erebus was certain it was not the Blood God's blessing.

It was something more extreme—so extreme even the gods refused to pity it. "Not yet proficient," Titus muttered, his voice heavy with quiet regret—for having failed to kill Erebus.

Erebus's skin prickled with gooseflesh; fear spread inexplicably through his core.

Titus looked at him.

Then Titus's form flickered—like a ghost, he appeared instantly before Erebus.

Erebus saw Titus's eyes: entirely black, lidless orbs.

The ritual dagger flashed with malevolent light—this blade of murder still hungered to take Titus's life.

The obsidian blade sliced through air, aimed at Titus's throat.

But Titus moved as if he had foreseen the dagger's path, stepping aside before the blade could strike.

Erebus dodged frantically—but Titus's chainsword, Innocent, had already waited there, precisely where Erebus would flee.

"For the Emperor's justice."

Titus growled:

"For righteousness, to kill."

The chainsword roared, tearing through Erebus's body, cutting him cleanly in half.

Blood, viscous pulp, and shattered flesh sprayed everywhere, horrifyingly vivid.

"... onrad." Erebus, split in two, whispered in disbelief.

Then his form flickered—the severed corpse became a Tzeentchian Greater Daemon, a wrestling eagle-man.

Erebus reappeared farther away, his tattoos now reduced to three, one more gone.

Titus gripped his chainsword, staring at Erebus with icy eyes.

He felt the power within him.

A fragment of Konrad Korsze was lodged inside Titus, feeding him a ceaseless stream of chilling energy.

This power was useful.

But power came at a cost—repeated visions now flooded Titus's vision.

These illusions showed him cold, dark scenes: terrible sins, and glimpses of futures.

But Titus cared only for the futures revealed in the visions.

He spun sharply, swinging Innocent behind him, striking the shadow that had silently crept toward him.

Belak's shadow-blade pierced from the dark—blocked by Titus.

Belak was in terrible condition: his body covered in bruises, one arm shattered, wounds burning with Emperor's Fire, eyes bulging with bloodshot veins, blood trickling from his ears—he was utterly deaf.

(End of Chapter)