Chapter 30: The Golgotha Campaign (3: The Hunter and the Hunted) |
Location: The irradiated surface of Gorm-2
Date: 894.160.M30
For two whole days, Horus Lupercali and the elite of the XVI Legion had slogged across the endless deserts and mountain ranges of Gorm-2.
The Stormbringers had done their job brilliantly, raining down death from high orbit that turned large parts of the world's sand to glass. Both the X and the XVI had made planetfall soon after, and while they had encountered several bands of Orks on the surface, it was a pitiful amount, akin to the forces they had fought when entering the Golgotha sector to begin this crusade. Compared to the heavy void defenses that they had faced when entering into the system, this seemed off. Gorm-2 was supposed to be the gateway to the Ullanor System, so why was it that the Lunar Templars had only killed Orks numbering in the single thousands?
Thankfully, a scout team had found a set of massive, metallic doors located in a rocky valley near the planet's equator. Compared to the endless sand dunes, it was practically a blessing that the XVI Legion had anything to do to occupy their time. The prospect of a hulking metal door with unknown findings behind it was a welcome diversion from sweeping the newly radioactive surface for surviving xenos.
The doors themselves were of Dark Age of Technology material, and nothing that the XVI Legion had was able to get through. Horus was summoned from onboard the Vengeful Spirit, but even he could not access its secrets. The metal was impenetrable and not even Horus using the Longinus could pry it open. Horus was dreading doing so, but he knew that he needed to call his brother in to help. The X Primarch was not one of his more humble brothers, and he knew that he would never hear the end of it, but this was the only option. The secrets to this accursed planet were behind those doors, and Horus needed in to see them.
If there was one thing that the XVI Legion hated above all others, it was being beaten by one of their cousins. By nature, they were hyper-competitive and thrived on the thrill of a victory. It was their misfortune that the Stormbreakers were the exact same way and delighted in rubbing it in the Lunar Templar's faces that they were called to help solve the problem.
Culain MacTurson's personal battle tank was a fearsome thing, bristling with weapons both conventional and esoteric, each designed to unleash apocalyptic levels of destruction on whatever target was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of its firepower. The primarch in command of the vehicle was the one in charge of what weapons he chose to unleash. To Horus' great misfortune, the weapon he was choosing to use was his mouth.
"It is fortunate that the entire crusade has not been a series of metal doors, Horus." Culain called out, climbing out of the hatch of his tank and leaping down to the ground as his sons cheered and guffawed around him. "But I suppose you picked the right brother to accompany you. It seems the idea of bringing superior firepower was a little beyond your wheelhouse. Fear not, brother. I bring the storm that you seemed to have forgotten!"
Culain merely chuckled, and went to work inspecting the edges of the door. Muttering to a servo-skull that served to take down all of his dictations so that he could go over them at a later date and collect all his thoughts. The Stormbringers immediately took up positions next to their Lunar Templar counterparts, swapping stories from the various battles they fought throughout the system, and sharing tales from systems the other legion had not seen in their campaigns. The Stormbringers jested at their cousins and the Lunar Templars took their verbal beatings with grace.
It all seemed wrong to Horus. There was nothing obvious about the situation, but some sixth sense was warning him that this wasn't right. He had been born to be a commander, but he and his legion were also bred to be skilled hunters, able to expose the weakness of any foe unfortunate enough to be marked for death by Horus or his sons.
So why did he feel like he was the prey instead of a predator?
"Culain… this doesn't feel right." Horus said suddenly, approaching his brother and placing a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "We need to retreat."
All Culain MacTurson had to do was take one look in his brother's eye to know that he was deadly serious. The normally brusque primarch was immediately wheeling around to command his legion to move. For all of his many disagreements with Horus, he trusted his brother completely and knew he was far too competent a leader to suddenly order withdrawal for no reason. It might not have been apparent to the X Primarch, but he knew there was a reason all the same.
As they both went to tell their sons to move, they saw several things happen at the same time. First, Orks that had been hiding among the crevices of the valley suddenly appeared and began firing madly at the assembled Astartes, who had broken guard formations hours ago at the first sign that breaking through the doors would be pointless. Second, small bursts of green lightning appeared all over the area, coalescing into balls of energy that seemed to grow more real and present in the Materium with each passing microsecond. But thirdly and most worrying of all were the gretchins holding onto massive bombs that seemed to be materializing out of those balls of green energy.
"TELYPORTA!!!" one of them roared as the xeno and its weapon were fully transported into the real world. The creature pressed a button on the side of its bomb and after a second, it exploded in a massive detonation, with the gretchin barely escaping back into the green energy that whisked it far away from the destruction it had caused. Sneak attacks that waited hours to come to fruition? Valuing the lives and utility of gretchin foot soldiers? Teleportation technology? These Orks were unlike any that Horus had ever faced before, and feeling very similar to uncertainty began to creep its way into his mind.
The Ork 'telyportas' were wreaking havoc on Imperial forces, and the Orks had chosen their ambush locations well, but these were not ordinary soldiers that they faced. They were the Emperor's Angels of Death, and they were created for one purpose: to be the most lethal fighting force that the Imperium could produce on a massive scale. Ambushes did not take such warriors by surprise, nor did the sudden appearance of bombs make it to where they lost all cohesion. Even the least martially inclined of the Astartes Legions would have been able to weather such an attack, and neither the Lunar Templars nor the Stormbringers were in the running for such a title.
With nearly impossible grace and coordination, the Astartes of both legions began to push their attackers back. Less and less of them were lost to the teleportating bombs each time they were used, and almost all of the Orks that had lain in wait to ambush them had been slaughtered. It was going to be yet another victory, and one that confirmed just how important this door was.
It made Horus' skin crawl. There was a foul intelligence that gave knowledge and tactics to the creatures his sons were slaughtering. It was not done with the humans yet, and soon they would see its final card being dealt.
The final card in question arrived literally at the feet of the two Primarchs. A much larger bomb, clearly made of much more explosive material, was transported by not one, but two gretchins, who each pressed a button on what Horus could only imagine was a Greenskin version of a nuclear bomb. No matter how well the Astartes could defend themselves against an Ork ambush, there was no defending against nuclear fire, especially at such close range.
Horus and Culain looked at each other. Centuries of training and a childhood spent growing up in close proximity to each other gave the pair the coordination they would need to pull this off. They had one chance and one chance only to save their sons.
Almost as soon as the bomb had materialized fully the two brothers put their unspoken plan into action. Faster than any human could track, Horus threw the Longinus spear clean through the gretchin, leaving a torsoless pair of legs leaking green blood all over the ground as it stumbled back and forth, unsure why its brain had stopped sending it commands. Culain simultaneously obliterated his own gretchin with a well-placed blow from his custom power gauntlet, leaving nothing left of the gretchin afterwards to signify that it had even existed.
There was no time to bask in their glory, as the bomb was winding up for detonation. They only had a second to press both buttons to deactivate the weapon. Plenty of time for two primarchs to diffuse the bomb and prevent the destruction of their respective sons.
But not enough time to escape the pull of the teleportation lightning.
As Horus pressed the button and heard the bomb powering down, he felt an irresistable pull yanking him backwards. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, it was winning. He could see Culain fighting the same force as their sons rushed over to try and be of assistance to their genefather. It was a losing battle. They would be pulled in, one way or another. Culain was the first to realize his fate, and waved his sons off before giving Horus a look of steely determination. He was Culain MacTurson, Primarch of the Stormbreakers Legion, Mechanical Mastermind of the Emperor's Sons, and renowned across the Imperium for his indomitable will. No matter where the energy spat him out, he would find his way back to his sons. As he looked at his brother and his fearless contempt for all that sought to threaten him, Horus felt his own courage rise up, and he knew that he too would survive this. One second he was there, fighting against the pull of the Orkish energy, and the next he was gone, dragged into the yawning maw of pure WAAAAAAAGH!!! energy.
I will return to my sons. Horus vowed to himself as he felt the first tendrils of energy trying to work their way into his mind. One way or another, I will find my way back to them.
Then, with a flash of green light, darkness took him and he was gone.
Location: I̸̧͔̟͘͠n̶̗̺͎̾s̷̠͎̓̎̐i̶̛͇͕͝d̸̼̃e̸͕̽̅͋ ̷̰̈́̈́̔ỷ̸͜o̸̤͐ͅụ̸͚̲̊ŕ̷͙͇ ̶͚̤̐̎̎m̶͚͇͙̋̿͑í̸̝̺͚̐n̸̟͓̅d̸̳̅͝,̷̗͎͈́ ̸̬̦̆̎H̵̳̉̆ờ̷̠̲̝̏r̷̬̗̉̉u̶̺͇͖̚s̵̟͖̀̽.̶̗̏̎̉ ̴͕̭̔̓Ẅ̴͈́h̷͓̭̒̓̓e̶̖̰͊̀͘r̷̠̟̋͂ḛ̷̌̓ ̶̰̦͊́͝Į̸͘ ̴͉͓̍̃͜ḁ̴͂̿l̶̟̹̊̊̃ẃ̵͖͝a̷̟̽͊y̷̓̅̚͜s̵̯̾́ ̷͇̻̅̽̀à̶̛̒ͅm̴̪̈́̋̐
Date: T̸̗͋̑h̶͔̳̼̃i̶͋̆̕ͅs̵̞͚̔͐͝ ̴̞̤̼̈́̀̓i̵̜̫͍̓s̸̨̘̫̅́̍ ̴̯̲͙̈́̂̿e̵̥̭͒͝t̶̢͇͓̋̈́e̸͚͚̾̔͌͜r̶̦̔̇n̴͉̈́̚ï̴͚ț̵̯̙͌̿͝y̵̢̗̽̚,̷͚͌͊̔ ̷̨̽Ḧ̸̛̯́́o̴̺̹̙̕r̴͔̻̓u̶̞̫͐̐s̶̩̖͇̑.̶̝̀͌̓ ̷̘̊͘T̸̨̛̍̅h̷͈̎î̴̭͝s̶̥̀ ̸̢̜͇̀i̵̹̞̋s̵̤̤̅͐͊ ̸͉̙͋͐͠h̶̜̚o̵̘̝̮͑w̴̱͎̏͋͝ ̷̗̏̓͌a̶͒ͅ ̸̢̫͓̓̕g̵̘̖̀̍̒ò̸̘̹̌̓d̷̺͇̖͆͝ ̴͔͊̔̽s̸͚̱̬͂e̸̳̒͠͝ë̴̳̣́s̵̨̀͝ ̴̟̠̥̃ť̶̹̌i̸̟͍͋m̷͎̑ͅe̸̘̊̍͛.̵͉̥̣̋͆̕
Horus opened his eyes and to his great surprise felt no pain.
Quicker than any unaugmented eye could process, he sat bolt upright in his bed, looking for the enemy that was surely preparing to strike. Wait, why was he in his bed? Was this even on Gorm-2?
No, Horus knew where he was. He was in his private chambers aboard the Vengeful Spirit. This was where he came to reflect and meditate away from the constant pull of a thousand different things that needed his time, attention, and energy. Yet, there was much wrong about his surroundings. This was not how he decorated his chambers. It was far too garish for his taste, and was filled with all sorts of trophies and mementos that Horus would not have given a second thought to in his own rooms. In addition, he could not stand the ugliness of the Sea Foam Green banners that seemed to drape from every wall.
"Ah, good. You are finally awake. I was worried how long you would be out. That was quite the nasty bit of energy you were dealt there."
Sitting in a lounge chair, as if he were a seasoned Imperial official enjoying himself with a bit of well-deserved rest, there sat Horus Lupercal, decked not in a massive set of armor, but in a simple tunic, the kind that Horus had dozens of in his own quarters back on his own ship.
"This isn't real." Horus muttered. "You're not real."
"Come now," Lupercal chuckled as he leaned forward, studying Horus as if he were some sort of interesting science specimen. "You are far too smart to believe this is all imaginary. Of course it's real! All taking place in your head, of course, but very much real."
"Then where am I?" Horus asked him, eyeing this version of himself warily. It was odd to look at a version of himself that was so alike, but also so different. There were lines upon his face, signs of wear and tear that only a hard life on the campaign trail could give a person.
And his eyes. There were two of them, a sensation that Horus had not felt in centuries, and whenever they looked at him they were completely devoid of all warmth and light.
"You're on board my ship, of course." Lupercal answered with a wry smile. "And one that doesn't have that garish 'Lance of Luna' ruining the aesthetics. Or did you mean where is your body? Because that's lying in a cold, dark Ork weapons depot, miles beneath the surface of a sand-blasted excuse of a planet."
"Then that is where I am needed." Horus said gruffly. "Take me back there. You are a foul, Chaos-twisted version of myself that I have rejected. I have nothing to say to you."
"But I have something to say to you, Horus." Lupercal answered softly before locking eyes with him.
**The Emperor… no, Father stood over him. He had been so small back then, no more than a child. Father had loved him, said that he would make him a conqueror of the stars.**
** The others came soon after, vying for his attention, and getting it too. Horus wasn't always enough anymore. Now there were others that brought him things that Horus could only dream about.**
**A promotion, or so Horus thought. Still didn't trust him to reveal His plans though. And now Horus had to deal with his 'brothers' who were furious they hadn't gotten the spot that Horus didn't even truly want. What a great Father he turned out to be, abandoning his children at the first sign of need.**
**Arik Taranis was before him. His once proud form had diminished and was covered in all sorts of tumorous growths. The results of a rushed creation process. It didn't matter to the Emperor. All that mattered was the job. Taranis was a tool to Him, and so was Horus. This was the fate of all the Emperor's tools, unless Horus did something about it.**
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Horus roared as he grabbed a piece of human armor that served as a trophy and threw it at Lupercal. The armor vanished into thin air and his dark counterpart didn't look perturbed at all with what had just transpired.
"Unpleasant, I know." he stated, a note of sympathy in his voice. "But you had to see it. The Emperor has gotten smarter this time around, and he hides his true self all the better for it. But I have seen the real Him, and it is a monster so much worse than anything you think me to be."
"That is not true." Horus said, shaking his head as if he were a grox trying to rid itself of a bothersome insect. "I saw what you did. On Luna, I saw every crime you ever committed, I still have them in my head."
"And thank goodness you have never done anything vile in the service of the Imperium!" Lupercal shot back, lauding him in a mocking tone. "We all do horrible things for the ones that we love. You love the Imperium, so you spill blood and do things that others find reprehensible. I love my brothers, and so I did what I had to do to save them. The Emperor? The creature you call Father? It loves nothing but itself, and that is all it will ever do things for."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care if you believe me. It is the truth. It is your fate to defy the Emperor and bring about lasting peace to the galaxy."
"I have broken my fate. I am my own person, in charge of my own destiny."
Both men sat quiet for a little while, before Lupercal broke out into a fit of almost hysterical laughter.
"Mocking my defiance of fate?" Horus quipped.
"Oh no, much funnier than that." Lupercal replied, conjuring a quill, ink, and a piece of vellum from thin air that he promptly started to write on. "It's something you'll tell me soon."
"I- what?"
"Fate cannot be changed, Horus." Lupercal continued, scribbling away. "It is a mighty river, constantly flowing, ever onwards. The water might twist and turn on its path, but it inexorably moves to one place and one place only: it's final destination at the shore. We are the water, and we play the part that is given to us. You play the part the Emperor has laid out for you, now it's time you took control of your own life and embraced your destiny."
"You speak of playing parts and breaking free, but it only shows how deluded you truly are!" Horus shot back. "You aren't free. You are a slave to the forces of Chaos. We are both puppets, but at least I can see the strings!"
"Aha!" cried Lupercal, rising out of his seat and pointing excitedly at his counterpart. "There it is! There is that line that made me laugh so hard. You don't know it, but you have proven my point for me. Take a look for yourself!"
He held out the vellum, and Horus saw that written in a hasty scribble was the line he had said only seconds before.
"We are both puppets, but at least I can see the strings"
"It isn't your fault, Horus." Lupercal said as Horus took a step back and fell onto the bed again as he processed what was in front of him. "You still perceive time as a mortal. You haven't been through what I have been through. Sure you have the memories, but not the experiences themselves. I see time as a god does, and what I see is immutable. You don't believe in fate? You don't believe you are predestined to act a certain way? I have a piece of vellum with your own words on it that proves otherwise."
Horus was silent, unsure of what to say. His mind was reeling, and he didn't trust himself enough to speak.
"It will happen eventually." Lupercal said, appearing at his side and throwing a supportive arm around his broad shoulders. "You are destined to rebel, to destroy the Emperor and lead humanity down a true Golden Path. Free from both gods and monsters. Just let me in. You are too weak to do this otherwise and you know it. This is your fate, stop fighting it."
Horus finally mustered the energy to stand up. He made for the door, thinking that leaving this space would be what allowed him to leave and return to the real world. Even if that wasn't the rule, he reasoned that perhaps believing so would be enough to make this work.
"Still don't believe me, eh?" Lupercal asked with a wry grin. "No matter, you're wearing down. You can't hold out forever, and my connection to you is only growing."
He made a show of his hands fumbling around the front of his tunic, pretending he was looking for something that he had forgotten.
"Before I forget, I have a little present I want to give you." Lupercal said. "A gift to help you wade through a literal mountain of greenskins. You're a great warrior, probably one of the best, but you're not the Warmaster. There were none that could beat me, and it showed. You lack my savagery, the cunning instincts of an alpha predator that allows you to be the hunter that you were born to be."
"I don't need your gifts." Horus spat. "They are poison."
"I think you do." Lupercal replied coolly. "You left the Longinus buried in the torso of some gretchin back on the surface after all, and you'll need some sort of advantage to make up for that."
Horus hesitated for a moment, realizing that he had indeed temporarily lost his greatest weapon. That hesitation was all Lupercal needed and before Horus knew what was happening, he felt an intense pressure on his mind once again.
**The finest tutors that humanity had to offer, all teaching him night and day to make him not only a commander without peer, but a truly lethal weapon**
**Pain blossomed all over his body as Valdor hit him yet again. But it had taken him longer to land a 'killing blow'. Horus was improving, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he gave the Custodian a true challenge.**
**His brother lay defeated before him, silver hands held up in surrender as the eyes glowered with resentment as he was helped to his feet. Horus had beaten him soundly in the opening match to this sparring arena Ferrus had built on his flagship for some reason. That burning desire to be the best was a weakness, and Horus knew just how to use that from now on**
**The sparring was endless, but Horus was winning. Custodes could not match him, Ferrus could not match him, and now these demons that the Four had put against him on Molech were no match either. Khorne's will would break before his, and he was ready for anything, especially the next victim.**
"NO!" Horus screamed again. "I won't have it!"
"Too late, the deed is already done." Lupercal replied with a grin. "Now go back out there and kill some xenos for me. And keep in touch when you get to Ullanor. You'll need me, and I think my skills will pass this upcoming audition with flying colors."
Horus didn't respond. He merely pushed his way back through the door and felt the now familiar pull of energy take him far away from this place. It was time for the Orks to have a new face to embody their collective fear.
Location: Weapons Depot 'Telyporta Five' underneath the surface of Gorm-2
Date: 894.158.M30
Horus' world was full of pain when he awoke, but there were a few things that kept his mind from dwelling on that fact. First, he was pleased to realize that despite traveling relatively unprotected through a tunnel of pure WAAAAAAAGH!!! Energy, he emerged relatively unscathed. His Father's biological mastery had proven once again to be the equal of all the esoteric forces of the galaxy. Second, he did feel a new sense of power coursing through him. It was not raw power so much as a new set of ideas on how to use the power he already possessed. It was clear that whatever his motivations, Lupercal had not been lying about how good of a warrior he was.
Third, and most important of all, he saw several gretchins and their bombs getting ready to be 'telyported' to the surface.
Without even thinking, as if his body knew what to do before his superhumanly fast mind did, Horus rushed forward and grabbed the head of the nearest greenskin and gave it a simple squeeze. Like an overripe fruit, it burst apart in his hand as he immediately looked for his next kill, not stopping to savor the terror he had sown with his sudden appearance and kill.
Within seconds, every single gretchin in the room was dead, their bodies torn to shreds by his bare hands as his impact with their bodies made a small sonic boom whenever his hands struck. He was a hunter, and the first room of many had fallen.
As the bloodlust faded, Horus began to feel slightly worried. This was not how he normally fought. He was a tactical duelist, looking for an opponent's weak spot before striking with precision to bring down his foe before the battle had even truly begun. This… this was something different. Something far more primal and terrifying. He wondered whether this was worth the price he was paying for it.
Then he remembered his brother, who was also trapped in here somewhere, probably trying to fight his way out just as Horus was. If Horus Lupercali could use his newly imparted skills to make his brother's fight easier, he would. He had gotten them into this mess, and he was going to get them both out of it, even if he couldn't directly help his brother.
So off Horus went, stalking through the hallways with terrifying speed and lethal intent. Everywhere he went, Ork bodies were pummeled mercilessly. None could stand before him and before long, they stopped trying. The goal was no longer combat, the goal for the Orks was escape. None of them were strong enough to face this new foe, and so they retreated in hopes of finding some sort of warboss that could finish this new enemy.
But every single boss that stood in Horus' way was completely and utterly demolished. Sometimes Horus used his bare hands to beat them to death, occasionally he used their own weapons against them, and once he speared a warboss clean through the head with his own mechanical leg that Horus had yanked off him mere seconds before. It didn't matter to Horus. All that mattered was the death and destruction he was causing. The Orks would come towards him, knowing instinctively that there was a good and proper fight waiting for them at his location. And then once they saw his sheer power and fearsome demeanor, they would flee in terror, allowing for him to clear out their ranks easily. And so he did his dance of death for hours on end, ensuring that the vast majority of the Orks inside this truly gargantuan underground base were focused on him and him alone. Though he could not be completely sure, he was convinced that he was nearing a bodycount that was almost as high as the grand total of Orks killed by ground forces on Gorm-2 up until this point.
The slaughter eased up eventually, and Horus saw that the number of Orks rushing towards him as he made his way through the hallways and rooms was starting to thin. Finally, after using an Ork corpse to soak up the ammunition of an Orkish flamethrower and then slicing the Ork's upper torso off with his bare hand, Horus found himself standing alone in front of a pair of gigantic metal doors, not unlike the ones that were at what he now assumed was the entrance to this subterranean complex. Unlike those doors, these ones opened at the slightest outward push from Horus and he rushed on, fully expecting to destroy whatever was on the other side of the door just as he had with all of the other rooms he had cleared along this brutal rampage of distraction and destruction.
To his great surprise, he was blinded by sunlight upon rushing through the doors, and it was only due his transhuman eyes that adjusted quickly to the reencountered sun and his enhanced reflexes that he was able to dodge the bolter shell that screamed by his face only centimeters away.
"Hold your fire, hold your fire!" he heard a voice call out. "Stand down, it's the Primarch!"
It appeared as though Horus had torn his way through most of the complex and had made his way back up to the top where the main doors were located. Evidently the Orks had been willing to take a chance with the Imperial forces lying in wait instead of spending another minute with the monster that stalked their halls and revelled in their deaths. He had not found Culain during his killing spree, but he was confident that he had bought him some valuable time and breathing space.
"My Lord Primarch!" Corin Calistar called out as the Chief Librarian raced to his father's side. With a flourish, he brought his hands to Horus' wounded face, using his prodigious skills in biomancy to mend the wounds the Primarch had taken during his neverending combat.
"I am so glad to see you alive!" the Librarian continued, dictating orders to both Templars and Stormbringers in the area to get ready to move into the newly opened tunnels. "When you and your brother vanished, we… well, let us just leave it at the fact that we are all very happy to see you return."
Looking into his geneson's face, Horus felt the horrors of his journey fade once again from his mind. Not into a blood-filled rage this time, but a tranquil peace. A moment of solitude during an increasingly tumultuous campaign. The ashen face streaked with the metaphorical blood of martyrs anchored him once more in reality, and for that he was truly grateful.
"And of our genefather?" a worried looking chief of the Stormbringers asked him.
"He lives." Horus said simply, gesturing back towards the entrance to the complex. "I would have felt it if he perished."
"Then we must go in and rescue him." the chief said brusquely, displaying the usual tact and grace that Culain's sons showed towards outsiders. "We haven't a moment to lose."
Thanks to Corin's biomancy and his own enhanced healing powers, Horus was already back on his feet, ready for the next fight if need be. He motioned for the warchief to stop and pay heed to his commands, for Horus now knew the sheer size of this facility, and the last thing they needed were Astartes going in without a truly fleshed-out plan for their attack.
"Yes, your genefather lives, but he is beyond our help now." Horus said. "I fear that he is in the deepest and darkest of those pits down there, fighting off against whatever foul xenos intelligence guides these creatures. We would never make it in time to assist him. Instead, let us gather our forces, let me provide you a layout of the facility, and let us clear each and every room on our path towards the site of your father's inevitable victory. I have slain many of them, but it might not have been all, and I shall not suffer a single one of those foul xenos to draw another breath after the sun has set.
The Stormbringer nodded, seeing the inspiration for the plan and trusting his genefather completely. He made his way back to his brothers, telling them of their new mission objective and how they would accomplish it.
"Do you really believe that he faces off against the being in charge of this place?" Corin asked his genefather, looking up at him with an look of utmost curiosity. Despite centuries of experience, it was always uncanny for Horus to see his own face making such foreign expressions.
"I do." Horus replied simply.
"Do you think he will win?"
The question was asked before Corin could control himself. It had been a long campaign to get to this point, and Horus could see how the horrors of war could affect even the hardiest members of his legion. Corin Calistar did not doubt Culain MacTurson. He just couldn't see a path to victory, and needed to be shown the light.
"Oh yes." Horus said, letting out his first true smile of the day. Instead of rebuking his son, he knelt down beside him and pointed back towards the yawning blackness of the doorway leading underground.
"The world is full of terrors and things utterly alien to us, but fear not, my son. For always and forever, the Emperor protects."
"And so does Culain MacTurson!"