The war on the surface of Vigilus had spiraled into chaos.
Harkon, the World Reaver, stood among the shattered ruins. This once-glorious vanguard officer of the Black Crusade now looked disheveled, his pride diminished.
"Damn orcs!" The World Reaver cursed, the bitterness in his voice clear. He had once boasted that he would capture Vigilus for Warmaster Abaddon in eighty days, thrusting his spear into the very heart of the planet's surface.
Yet the chaos here had caught him off guard. With multiple forces constantly appearing, the entire world felt like a giant meat grinder. He had been battered by the orcs before even confronting the Imperium.
"How many more of these vermin are there?" The resentment in his voice became palpable.
Even as the main demon army struggled in a prolonged battle with the orcs, he did not lose sight of his mission. He had sent Nurgle's demon army and stealthy warbands to infiltrate the lower nest of the Vigilant Star Hive City, intending to sow chaos.
It was a foolproof plan, but the feedback left him bewildered.
The Nurgle's descendants and the fallen warriors had been wiped out by the genestealers.
The situation perplexed the World Reaver.
"And the Iron Warriors—they actually retreated before mere mortals?" His tone darkened further.
The World Reaver did not dwell on the Iron Warriors' defeat, though. While other forces fought meaningless battles with the aliens, at least the Iron Warriors had faced the Imperial Legion directly.
This thought made him pause. It was a sign that even his expectations for this war had sunk lower than he'd imagined.
Despite the unfavorable situation, the World Reaver hadn't lost hope of victory.
The World Reaver was Abaddon's voice, and his greatest strength lay in sowing discord within the enemy ranks. The more fortified the opponent's position, the easier it was to break from within. He still believed that with one successful rebellion, he could turn the tide, conquer Vigilus before Abaddon arrived, and fulfill the oath he had made long ago.
He brought his combat team to the Saint's Wharf under the cover of night. On this chaotic world, the Saint's Wharf, still under the Imperium's control, was one of the few remaining quiet places.
There, a figure cloaked in a hooded robe had been waiting for the World Reaver.
"Congratulations. You've made a wise decision. The hypocritical Imperium has long been corrupt. Your only path forward is to pledge allegiance to Chaos." The World Reaver stepped forward, a shark-like grin on his face.
"I have not betrayed the Imperium, nor will I ever pledge myself to Chaos. My loyalty is to the Agamenus family alone." The hooded figure slowly raised his head, revealing a human face.
This man was Lucian Agamenus IX, the nominal ruler of Vigilus.
"Everything I have done has been to resist the authority of a tyrant. Vigilus has been under the Agamenus family's rule for millennia, but Dukel's forces have stripped us of our power. He has twisted the Emperor's doctrine, usurped the supreme authority of the Imperium, and now extends his minions into the territories of the Agamenus family."
"The Agamenus family remains loyal to the Emperor and will never bow to a dictator's rule," Lucian said with palpable resentment.
"I don't care about your origins," the World Reaver retorted coldly. "I only need to know one thing—can you help the Agamenus family reclaim the power it has lost?"
"Of course," the World Reaver chuckled. "You may not fully understand, but unlike the hypocritical humans, we know the value of a contract."
"I hope so. What do you require from me?" Lucian inquired.
"It's simple," the World Reaver said, producing a syringe with a foul smell. "You need only to inject this into the Thinker's computer at the heart of the fortress."
Lucian took the syringe without hesitation. "I will complete the task. Don't forget your promise."
"May our cooperation succeed," the World Reaver promised. "Then you will restore the Agamenus family's glory."
Lucian nodded, though his mind was filled with doubt. "How will this help you win this world?"
The World Reaver's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your concern. Just do your part, and you will become the eternal ruler of this world."
His gaze lingered on Lucian with a mix of calculation and disdain.
Had the war not been in such dire straits, the World Reaver would never have made contact with this fool of a nobleman. But now, in his desperation, he saw in Lucian a glimmer of hope. A man desperate enough to help turn the tide.
If it weren't for this, the World Reaver would never have wasted his time. But Lucian's incessant questions were beginning to irritate him.
Danger flickered in the World Reaver's eyes.
His personal guards had already scouted the area. No Imperial forces were nearby. If Lucian continued asking questions, he was prepared to eliminate him and take his place. The risk of exposure would be worth it.
In fact, a vicious idea crossed his mind. Once Lucian helped them secure the world, the World Reaver could mount the man's skull atop his scepter as a prize. A token of loyalty, and a way to ensure Lucian would "enjoy" his eternal power.
Lucian, sensing the rising tension, fell silent. He stopped speaking and stepped back.
"I reiterate," he said firmly, "my loyalty to the Emperor remains unchanged."
"Got it, little pawn of the false Emperor," the World Reaver muttered impatiently. "Now go and do what you must."
The World Reaver's disgust for the nobility was palpable.
"No, you don't understand." Lucian produced a piece of rune paper with an inscription from beneath his robe. The rune paper ignited in the air, flames and ashes swirling to form a colossal rune.
The World Reaver's heart sank. He had a bad feeling. He was about to speak, but before he could, a brilliant beam of light suddenly appeared in the darkness.
A proud warrior clad in black and green armor stepped from the beam. Behind him, another squad of elite warriors followed.
They were Doom Slayers—the finest of their kind, sent to aid the defenders of Vigilus.
Their leader, Doom, stood at the forefront, his armor shimmering with the glow of virtual energy.
Just Doom's presence sent a surge of pressure through the World Reaver. The Doom Slayer was among the most powerful warriors to have ever lived, and now he was here to fight.
In the blink of an eye, Doom's lieutenant, a demon with an octopus-like face, was struck down as Doom swung the butt of his weapon with lethal precision.
Blood splattered everywhere, the demon's body torn apart before anyone had time to react.
A moment ago, the World Reaver had been reveling in his supposed victory, but now the situation had flipped. His lieutenant lay dead, and the Doom Slayers were closing in.
The World Reaver stared in disbelief, his rage boiling over.
"You treacherous fool!" he howled, his eyes burning with fury. "Did you forget how the power of the Agamenus family was eroded piece by piece?"
The war on the surface of Vigilus had spiraled into greater chaos.
The World Reaver Harkon stood amid the shattered ruins. The once-proud vanguard officer of the Black Crusade now appeared disheveled, his former glory fading in the wake of unexpected adversity.
"Damn orcs!" The World-Reaper cursed, his frustration evident. He had once boasted that he would conquer Vigilus for Warmaster Abaddon within eighty days, that his spear would pierce the surface of the planet. But the chaotic turn of events had thrown him off course. With various forces constantly emerging, Vigilus had become a massive meat grinder. He had already been battered by the orcs before even facing the Empire head-on.
"How many bugs are there in this world?" The bitterness in the World Reaver's voice was unmistakable.
While the main demon army fought a brutal, drawn-out battle with the orcs, Harkon refused to abandon his mission. He sent Nurgle's demons and stealth-trained warbands into the lower hive city of Vigilus, hoping to create disorder. This strategy seemed flawless, but the outcome left him baffled.
Nurgle's followers and the fallen warriors had been wiped out by the genestealers.
This unforeseen development confused Harkon.
"And the Iron Warriors... they retreated before mortals."
The World-Reaper made no further comments on their failure. While other forces continued fighting futile battles with alien hordes, the Iron Warriors had at least faced the Imperial Legion head-on. It was surprising, even to Harkon, that his expectations for this war were so low. But even so, the battle remained unfavorable for them all.
The World Reaver refused to surrender hope. He was Abaddon's mouthpiece, a master at sowing chaos within the enemy ranks. The stronger the fortress, the easier it was to break from the inside. In his eyes, a single successful rebellion could turn the tide of the war, allowing him to conquer Vigilus before Abaddon even arrived, fulfilling the oath he had sworn long ago.
Harkon arrived at the Saint's Wharf under the cover of night, accompanied by a small combat team. In the midst of Vigilus's chaos, this Imperial stronghold remained a rare quiet place.
There, a cloaked figure awaited his arrival.
"Congratulations. You've made the right choice. The hypocritical Empire is rotting from within. Your only path is to pledge allegiance to Chaos." Harkon stepped forward, his grin like that of a shark.
"I have not betrayed the Empire, nor have I sworn allegiance to Chaos. My loyalty lies only with the Agamenus family." The figure slowly raised his hood, revealing a human face.
This was Lucian Agamenus IX, the nominal ruler of Vigilus.
"All I've done is resist the oppressive rule of the dictator. The Agamenus family has controlled Vigilus for millennia. Yet, Dukel's forces have stripped us of all our power, altered the Emperor's doctrine, usurped supreme authority, and now they spread their influence over our territory."
"The Agamenus family is loyal only to His Majesty, the Emperor, and will never bow to a dictator." Lucian's voice was thick with resentment.
"I care not for your family's history," Harkon interrupted. "What I need to know is this: can you help us regain the power of the Agamenus family?"
"Of course," Harkon replied with a chuckle. "You may not understand fully, but compared to the hypocritical humans, we know the value of an agreement."
"I hope so," Lucian said. "What do you require from me?"
"It's simple," Harkon said, pulling out a needle exuding a foul stench. "Just insert this into the Thinker's computer at the heart of the fortress."
"I will see it done." Lucian took the syringe. "But remember our agreement."
"May our cooperation bring victory," Harkon replied, his tone laced with dark promises. "Once you complete your task, the Agamenus family will rise again."
Lucian nodded. "But how does this help you conquer the world?"
"That's not for you to know," Harkon snapped. "Do as you are told, and you will become the eternal ruler of this world."
Harkon's eyes fixed on Lucian. If the war had not turned so dire, he never would have lowered himself to speak with the mortal. But now, he saw in him a glimmer of hope. Despite Lucian's foolishness, Harkon believed he might yet turn this war around.
Lucian, aware of the dangerous edge to the World Reaver's gaze, understood that his questions had pushed the boundaries. Stepping back, he said, "I remind you again—my loyalty to the Emperor is unwavering."
"Enough, little traitor. Go do what you must." Harkon's impatience showed, his contempt for the hypocrites of the Empire plain.
Lucian, with a calm he barely felt, withdrew a piece of rune paper from under his cloak. As he held it aloft, it ignited in the air, the runes burning and taking form.
Harkon's confidence faltered as he watched the rune take shape. The air itself seemed to thrum with energy, and before he could react, a column of teleportation light exploded from the ground.
Through the blinding light, a towering figure clad in black and green armor stepped forward. Doom Slayer, the elite warrior, had arrived.
Behind him, more Doom Slayers followed—elite warriors well-versed in the art of killing demons.
Doom stood at the forefront, his armor crackling with the glow of his power. The sight alone doubled the pressure on Harkon.
Before Harkon's demon lieutenant, an octopus-faced abomination, could even react, Doom swung the butt of his weapon, smashing the demon's skull. The unholy blood sprayed everywhere as the Doom Slayer moved with lightning speed, leaving no time for defense.
What had seemed like a victory for Harkon and his plans was now a massacre. Doom, with his double-barreled shotgun, tore through Harkon's demon guards. The demons had no chance against the Doom Slayer's speed and deadly precision.
The moment Harkon's body hit the ground, Doom prepared to deliver the final blow when—suddenly—a massive psychic shockwave tore through the battlefield. Flames and lightning fused, creating rifts in the very fabric of space itself.
Doom was forced to retreat, raising a fist to block the oncoming psychic blast.
The shockwave detonated with the force of a starship's cannon, ripping the air and forcing the combatants to shield their eyes from the blinding explosion.
Several Tzeentch wizards emerged, their presence heralding a new chapter in the chaos. They quickly teleported Harkon away, whisking him from the battlefield.
As the space around him settled, Harkon found himself far from the battlefield, surrounded by the unnerving silence of defeat.
The World Reaver could not bring himself to rejoice in his escape. The operation had failed, and with it, any hope of claiming Vigilus. The oath he had sworn to Abaddon lay in tatters.
Just as he wallowed in his failure, a more ominous call echoed through the void. It was Abaddon.
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, the Warmaster surveyed the scene with the cold intensity of a conqueror.
"Connect me to the World Reaver." His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
The wizard before him—his mask still adorned with the sigils of Chaos—bowed low, his respect unwavering as always.
As the ritual incense burned and the air thickened with the scent of death, Harkon's red-eyed visage emerged in the mist.
"Harkon, report," Abaddon demanded. "You sound distressed."
"We bring war and disaster in your name, my lord," Harkon muttered, his voice bitter. "But we have not yet conquered this world."
Abaddon's eyes burned with the ferocity of the Warp itself. "I am the conqueror. And now that I am here... who will dare resist?"
"Orks, Tyranids, Aeldari, Doom Slayer, Adeptus Ministorum, Iron Hands, Adepta Sororitas, Knight Households, Brass Scorpion..."
The World Reaver, Harkon, spat out the names of the countless factions as though they were nothing more than the ingredients of some elaborate dish. One after another, the names flowed, as though each were a small inconvenience in his mind. Minutes passed, yet the vanguard officer of the Black Crusade continued his unending list.
Abaddon, the Warmaster of Chaos, sat in silence, his face betraying no emotion.
"Enough, Harkon," Abaddon finally spoke, his voice cutting through the endless litany. "Your report is over."
"But, my lord," Harkon protested, his eyes widening in frustration. "I haven't finished yet."
"Enough!" Abaddon snapped, his eyes narrowing with disgust. "I've heard more than enough. Your endless recounting does not change the facts. The time for words is over."
The Warmaster's gaze turned cold, and he leaned forward in his throne, his voice laced with bitterness. "I am disappointed in the shortsightedness of Dukel, who has sent so many reinforcements. His absence has delayed my chance to strike him down personally. It seems I will have to settle for hanging the head of that arrogant fool Doom on the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit."
Harkon swallowed his words, sensing the rising ire of the Warmaster, but pressed on.
"Time is running short, my lord," Harkon said urgently, his tone laced with an undercurrent of concern. "I issued my ultimatum to the Imperials of this world two months ago. The Hell Spears have penetrated the surface deeper than ever before. The announcement has been made, but the Imperials still believe we are bluffing."
Abaddon's eyes flared, his expression darkening.
"This declaration is no bluff," he replied coldly. "The slaughter I promised will come to pass. The world will burn, Harkon. It is inevitable." A thin smile curled across Abaddon's lips, his voice tinged with grim satisfaction. "The fate of Vigilus is sealed."
...
T.N:
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