The Emperor's Palace.
A symbol of the Emperor's greatness and the glory of Humanity. The heart of an empire that ruled over many planets and uncountable human masses. A center of power and authority.
But now, the once pristine white walls, adorned with many statues and bas-reliefs, were marred by cracks and gaps, and the whiteness had been replaced by the blackness of soot and smoke.
The palace burned, and with it, the Imperium of Man was aflame, for something terrible had happened—Betrayal.
Yes, it was betrayal. Not just another rebellion or uprising of some petty king or planet's population unwilling to live under the Emperor's rule. No, the traitor turned out to be someone unthinkable—Horus Lupercal.
Horus Lupercal.
The greatest of the Emperor's sons. Primarch of the Luna Wolves Legion. The one who had taken command of the Great Crusade and the title of Warmaster from the Emperor's own hands. To many, he seemed the ideal warrior and leader, second only to the Emperor himself. But beneath that ideal mask hid pride and ambition.
Few know exactly what caused Horus to betray the Emperor. Perhaps he feared that one day he would become a useless tool to be discarded? Or did he desire to become the ruler of Humanity himself and step out of the Emperor's shadow? Or maybe it was the quiet, subtle whispers from the Warp itself?
But now, those who fought on the walls of the Emperor's Palace had no time to seek answers to this question. Right now, they wanted only one thing — to kill the enemy and claim victory. Under the roar of chainswords and the booming of bolters, thousands fought and died, but the horrific machinery of battle showed no sign of stopping, as the dead were swiftly replaced by new combatants from both sides. And so it had continued for many days and nights.
On one of the walls, a particularly bloody confrontation was taking place. One of the traitor assault groups had nearly crushed the loyalist defense. It seemed that just one more push was needed, and the enemy would be defeated. Yet a lone loyalist in white Terminator armor, like a breakwater, stood his ground, holding off the enemies alone.
That loyalist was me—Buri, White Scar, a warrior of Jaghatai Khan and the Emperor, a loyal son of Terra.
Multiple rounds struck my armor, but those shots were nearly harmless to me. In response, I waited for my assault cannon to cool down, and when I heard the lock release, I fired a long burst at the traitors. Many of them were torn apart, despite the protection of their power armor. Some were luckier—they only lost limbs or suffered non-lethal wounds because they were in the second or third ranks. Some managed to dodge or were out of the line of fire.
But none of the survivors even thought of attempting another straightforward attack. The last defender's resistance had proven too strong. They sought cover and regrouped, planning to use their numerical superiority to deal with the cornered rat that had such sharp teeth.
"Ha. Cowardly bastards. The moment you felt death's breath, you ran away. But what else can you expect from the wretches of cursed Cthonia?" My words were filled with such biting sarcasm and mockery that even the vox couldn't hide it.
"You will answer for your words, savage!" one of the traitors replied, as a bolter round struck my shoulder plate, ricocheted off, and exploded in the air.
"Is that really the best you can do? I'm not surprised. The wolves have degenerated into cowardly, contemptible jackals," I continued to taunt the Sons of Horus, hoping to provoke them into another attack and close combat.
"Come on, spineless scum! Attack! I'll even give you an advantage!" I unlatched my storm bolter from my arm. "Find at least a shred of courage!"
I hoped my words and actions would provoke them into a melee fight. My storm bolter had failed, and I was out of ammunition anyway. Close combat was my only hope of killing as many as possible and buying time until reinforcements arrived or the artillery turned everything into ashes.
To my satisfaction, the Sons of Horus emerged from their cover, and among them was a Space Marine in purple armor—an Emperor's Children legionnaire.
"What is a chick of the Phoenix doing here, especially among these Cthonian rejects? I'd have thought just looking at their faces would make you sick," I said, staring at him.
"You have an incredibly foul mouth, savage. And it will be my great pleasure to rip it from your throat. Though it won't be as beautiful as making one perfect cut and watching as you choke on your own blood, realizing you'll never know perfection," he declared pompously, drawing his sword.
"Ha. As always, pompous and arrogant. Fine, we'll fight. But first, show me your faces. I want to know who will fall by my hand and who will kill me," I pointed at the traitors standing before me.
The Sons of Horus had typical faces—battle-scarred, burned, cut, the marks of many battles. But the Emperor's Child made me feel revulsion and contempt. Half of his face was pristine, unmarked by scars or wrinkles, as if he were a youth just coming into adulthood. But the other half was grotesquely disfigured. Where long platinum hair should have grown, there were marks of brutal surgeries. Instead of a cheek, a bloody wound yawned, held together by crude staples.
"So it's true what Kagan said. Fulgrim really has done strange things with his Legion. You've become true monsters and abominations. What a disgrace to the entire Imperium. Even if I can only kill one of you, it will be you. To arms, you filthy traitors!" My voice filled with a mix of contempt and cold fury, lightning sparking around my power fist.
Enraged, the Emperor's Children legionnaire was the first to don his helmet and charge. In a swift leap, he closed the distance between us, trying to strike one of the vulnerable points in my armor. With a sharp stomp, I brought my foot down with all my might, causing the section of the wall beneath me to shake and crack. The Emperor's Child was too consumed by his desire to skewer me and didn't react in time. His blade slid off my chest plate, failing to leave a scratch.
Not wasting the opportunity, I grabbed him by the gorget with my right hand. I endured a couple of painful blows, but the cost was worth it when my power fist crushed his leg and part of his pelvis. The second blow, which should have finished him off, was thwarted by the Sons of Horus.
Like pack hunters, they attacked together. While one distracted me, the other attempted to strike at the weak spots in my armor. Their attacks weren't always successful, but they compensated with sheer number, launching assaults without pause.
"Ha. How ironic. You're trying to kill me using my Legion's favorite tactic," I said, panting heavily.
"You will fall like a beast caught in a hunter's trap," one of the traitors, whose helmet was damaged after my fist narrowly missed his face, rasped through static.
"A beast. A savage. A barbarian. How often I've heard those words over centuries of service. Can't you come up with something new? But then again, what can you expect from former gangsters who've lived and died like rats for so many generations that even your armor can't hide that filthy rat smell," I taunted, causing them to grip their blades tighter, while their comrades, watching the fight, hurled insults.
"I won't give you an easy death, White Scar. I'll make sure you live long enough to see your homeworld Chogoris burn," his words only made me laugh.
"You made two stupid mistakes, green rat. The first mistake: Chogoris isn't my homeworld. The second: you believed you became the hunters, but in reality, you were always just the prey. For the Khan and the Emperor!" I roared with all the strength in my lungs, and then rockets and artillery struck the traitors' positions, while in the distance, grav-bikes and Landspeeders appeared, bearing the symbol of the Lightning.
The Sons of Horus were experienced warriors, so their confusion didn't last long, and they began preparing to repel the sudden attack from the rear. But even so, they didn't have enough time. By the time they finished regrouping, the riders on the grav-bikes were already too close, and soon a bloody massacre began.
I was busy fending off the Sons of Horus, fighting desperately as they were consumed by rage and a desire for revenge. Like madmen, they tried to swarm and kill me at any cost. A couple of bastards clung to me like jackals, while the third one attempted to stab a knife into my neck.
Activating the servos and artificial muscles at full power, I ran towards the nearest wall and slammed into it. It was enough to shake them off and cause some injuries. But the cost of this move was high – I lost most of my mobility, as many of the armor's systems overloaded and failed.
I had to use all my strength to turn around. My enemies had regained their senses, and judging by the fact that they discarded their blades and grabbed grenades, they were ready to sacrifice any remaining sense of honor, whatever little they had left as traitors, just to kill me.
"Storm Captain!" came a shout from behind me, and then a plasma blast hit the remaining trio of enemies, vaporizing them into atoms.
A Landspeeder landed beside me, and a White Scar in Iron Armor jumped off, greeting me with a chest bump.
"Hasakh, you're right on time. How did it go?" I asked him while simultaneously requesting a diagnostic of my armor.
"The enemy's forward units were caught in a trap and destroyed. Our forces managed to push the enemy out of the other sectors. Your plan to hold the defense alone worked perfectly and allowed our legion to strike the enemy from the rear." Hasakh's words brought a smile to my face.
"It wasn't all for nothing. Contact the command center and tell them that this defense sector requires immediate reinforcements. No less than a regiment with support units. Did the Khan approve my request for a couple of Dreadnoughts?" I asked while reading the diagnostic report, my smile turning into irritation.
"Yes. Since teleportation is not an option, they have been assigned under your command, leaving only the minimum needed to guard the gene-seed repository," Hasakh noticed my mobility issue and called for a Techmarine.
The Techmarine arrived quickly and, after reviewing the diagnostic report, said that my armor required a full repair, as standard maintenance and quick servo replacements wouldn't suffice. Weeks of intense combat had completely drained its durability. With my approval, he helped me out of the Terminator armor.
They gave me light scout armor with traces of wiped-off blood. After quickly putting it on, I asked the most important question to me personally.
"How many of our brothers have fallen?"
Hasakh silently handed me a tablet, showing a long list of names. Names I knew all too well.
"So, it's just us and a few dozen others left," I said, putting the tablet away and heading towards one of the Landspeeders.
As I walked, my heart burned with anger, rage, and pain, but the strongest feeling was sorrow. Out of those with whom I began my long service to the Imperium, only a handful remained.
The sight of an Emperor's Children Legionary, still alive and about to be executed, interrupted my thoughts about how few of my brothers remained.
"No need to waste ammunition on him. Just slit his throat, or if you don't want to dirty your blades with a traitor's blood, stone him to death. I think that kind of death would be the best punishment for this so-called aristocrat," I ordered the White Scars.
"A so-called aristocrat?! I'm a son of a noble family from Chemos itself! You, a wild shepherd, have no right to judge me!" the traitor screamed at me.
"A wild shepherd? You know, looking at what your Legion has become, I'd say even the lowest shepherd of grox has more nobility than you. Honestly, I'm glad I didn't become one of you," my last words caused surprise not only in the traitor but even in some of the White Scars.
"Ha. Good joke. The Emperor's Children would never recruit savages, especially not from Chogoris!" the traitor laughed.
"If they had recruited savages from Chogoris, you'd be standing here defending these walls. Because you wouldn't have forgotten what nobility and honor mean. And I really could have been one of you. Because my service and life as an Angel of the Emperor began right here on Terra, on the land of my ancestors, who ruled it. So, in my eyes, you and your family are nothing more than dust on the boots of the worst soldier serving in some backwater hole in the galaxy. And to make sure you understand that, I'll order them to stone you to death like the lowest of serfs. Hasakh, I leave this to you." Hasakh nodded in response, and I paid no attention to the traitor's screams and insults as I boarded the Landspeeder that took me to the command center.
During the flight, I didn't think about the siege or what to do next. Instead, I remembered. Not the war. Not the fallen brothers. Not my youth or becoming a Space Marine. I remembered my arrival in this world. It was my greatest secret, one that no one knew.
This was my second life.