Dukel's previous bloody massacre of the powerful was like a boomerang, and after several months, it finally fell back upon him.
On Ophelia VII, the celebration ceremony for the return of the Primarch was in full swing.
This celebration would serve to herald to the surrounding worlds the return of the Primarch and the triumph over the traitors of Mankind and the forces of Chaos.
A few weeks later, the majestic triumphal road was completely paved.
Densely packed interstellar battleships filled the sky, thousands of mechanical engines roared in unison, and hundreds of thousands of soldiers stood in solemn formation.
Nobles from numerous worlds arrived in an endless stream.
The Second Holy Land became a scene of streets emptied by the masses. The citizens of the Empire came out in droves and gathered at every intersection and square, eagerly awaiting the ceremony.
Hundreds of millions of people formed into an endless sea of humanity, countless cheers merged together, and the deafening wave of noise expressed boundless praise for Dukel.
The clergy of the State Church sang hymns devoted to the Primarch.
Accompanied by the Anglican Bishop and planetary councilors, Dukel ascended the viewing platform to oversee the parade.
Demonstrating the strength of the major interstellar legions to all the Imperial citizens present instilled a sense of confidence in the people.
The moment the citizens of the Empire spotted Dukel's arrival, the cheers reached an overwhelming crescendo, deafening as a tidal wave. The entire world seemed to tremble and rejoice in the cries of humanity.
"Your Highness Dukel, this belongs to you."
"Only a perfect son deserves such a magnificent gift."
The planetary councilor raised his hands high above his head, and an exquisite rapier was presented before Dukel's eyes.
This was a Chaos artifact, one obtained from the Warp.
"Is this your gift?" Dukel's face lit up with evident delight, and he took the sword into his hand without hesitation.
But the Primarch's next words caused the planetary councilor to break out in a cold sweat.
"Isn't that right, Fulgrim?"
Dukel held the rapier steadily in his hand, his gaze fixed on the planetary councilor in front of him, a smile playing across his face.
The smile on the planetary councilor's face began to waver, eventually fading into a grim expression.
Why hadn't this gift from Chaos corrupted the Primarch?
This rapier was a token carefully crafted for him by the gods of the Warp.
To hold this sword was to hold countless truths, and the Primarch should have been consumed by the agony of the revelations.
He should have seen the despair that awaited humanity in the future.
Within the infinite futures revealed by these truths, every path available to humanity led only to despair.
What made it worse was that these despairing visions weren't hollow illusions but reflections of an inescapable reality.
It is truth itself that brings ultimate despair.
Yet the Primarch standing before him showed no signs of succumbing to madness or falling into despair, as so many other wise beings had. He did not kneel before Chaos.
Instead, there was no ripple of emotion in his eyes—only a faint glimmer of amusement.
It was as if humanity's bleak future could not unsettle him in the slightest and, instead, amused him.
"Are you surprised, Fulgrim? Brother, it's been ten thousand years. What have you become?"
Dukel's tone was calm, devoid of anger, and carried the air of a casual inquiry.
This calmness enraged Fulgrim. Dukel's unbothered demeanor made him feel like a pathetic jester.
As a hissing, buzzing sound filled the air, something unspeakably evil descended upon the space. The flesh of the planetary councilor began to twist and deform rapidly.
The sound it emitted was sharp, shrill, and incomprehensible.
What emerged was an inhuman entity so horrifying that even the most battle-hardened Space Marines could not help but shudder.
The creature's scaly flesh pulsed with grotesque muscles and exposed internal organs, forming a revolting mass. It appeared trapped between pain and pleasure, its noises indistinguishable as cries of torment or ecstasy.
Dukel watched the revolting monster with an unshaken gaze.
A faint hissing, like whispered snake-tongue, crept into his mind, only to be consumed in an instant by his immense mental power.
"Number Two, I never expected to see you again," the creature spoke with malice.
"You ask what I have become? As you can see, I have ascended. Now, I ask you, son of perfection—what have you become?"
Its voice carried both sharpness and an irresistible allure, merging into a tone that was uniquely sinister.
"Me? I'm still myself. If there's any change, it's that I've found my true treasure."
Dukel looked down on his deformed brother, his tone casual, almost as though they were reminiscing about the past.
But the contents of their conversation touched upon the very essence of the Primarchs' existence.
—This lunatic.
Fulgrim snarled internally. A newfound understanding of the Second Primarch's unyielding mental state began to dawn on him.
"Number Two, congratulations on returning to our merciless father. Savor this reunion, for you will soon depart again. Your future holds only destruction or surrender."
"Puff~"
Dukel erupted into laughter, a sound so hearty it seemed uncontrollable.
"Why are you laughing?"
Fulgrim's frustration deepened as Dukel's reaction only served to mock him further.
This feeling took him back to the days when he had felt like a clown among the original Primarchs.
After his laughter subsided, Dukel said nothing more, simply watching Fulgrim. The intensity of his gaze made Fulgrim uneasy.
Those eyes held a constant, unquenchable spirit, stirring memories Fulgrim could not suppress. For all his denial, he felt his own vulnerability exposed again.
"You think our father was inhuman, but do you understand the wealth he gave each Primarch? You, brother, wasted a fortune fit to move the gods in exchange for filth, and now you dare to gloat before me?"
"Brother, I don't mock you, but you truly reek."
Dukel's words were like knives cutting into Fulgrim's heart, and the Daemon Primarch's fury reignited.
"What gives you the right? You know nothing of what has transpired in these ten thousand years!"
"You are nothing but a failure—a powerful yet deeply flawed failure! If the gods deceived you once, they can deceive you again!"
Fulgrim's rant had no impact on Dukel. Instead, his own growing emotional instability allowed Dukel's psychic force to push deeper into his mind.
"Perhaps I missed much in these ten thousand years. So, brother, enlighten me."
"What do you know now?"
Dukel patted Fulgrim's shoulder with unexpected affection, as though it were ten thousand years ago. Though he had called Fulgrim filthy, his touch carried no disdain.
Behind the gesture, psychic energy surged at its peak, probing Fulgrim's defenses with precision.
"Ten thousand years ago—"
Caught off guard by Dukel's demeanor, Fulgrim almost began to answer before sudden, excruciating pain jolted him awake.
"I see it now, Number Two! Still as hypocritical as ever. You think you can pry into my past secrets?"
Fulgrim's words turned into a mocking laugh as he recoiled from the trap.
"Tsk," Dukel clicked his tongue in mild frustration. The Warp's interference had saved Fulgrim from being entirely exposed. What was there to boast about?
This foolish brother.