2nd Primarch

Carlos, the Fate Weaver, the great daemon who had escaped from Dukel several times, was now unable to escape.

Under normal circumstances, this great daemon was no slower than the Primarch.

But it was already seriously injured—though it still maintained its ability to move after the explosion caused by Skarbrand's leap and the destruction of its psychic spell. This was a testament to its great strength.

In his heart, Dukel thanked Skarbrand again.

"Tear!——"

The Primarch grabbed the daemon, who was still running, and the immense pull tore Carlos's wide robe into pieces, pulling off a great number of bird feathers.

Under the Primarch's force, the Fate Weaver was thrown to the ground before it could react.

The tremendous impact caused the daemon's huge body to crash directly into the ground. With a puff, blood mist erupted from one of its beaks, while the other beak mobilized Khaos space energy. Even in such an unfavorable situation, the daemon still refused to surrender.

Seeing this, Dukel simply straddled the beast and began hammering the two bird-like heads with his fists.

Punch after punch, the spurting blood mist was instantly dispersed, and the runes of psychic spells shattered to pieces. Dukel only stopped when the great daemon, with its tenacious vitality, was severely injured and on the verge of death.

On the battlefield, the last of the daemons were cleared out by the Imperial warriors. The Psychic Guards of the Expeditionary Corps and the Primaris Space Marines of the Regent Corps were the first to arrive before Dukel.

But this war had caused far too many sacrifices, and even the Thirteenth Primarch, Guilliman, was in a near-death state, still struggling to survive.

The loyal warriors, no matter which chapter they belonged to, stood in place at this moment, mourning the lost souls.

The Ecclesiarchy's choir then struck up the Emperor's hymn: "May the Dead Return to His Throne."

But no matter the outcome, they had won the battle, together defeating the trap set by the gods.

Two Daemon Primarchs and a Greater Daemon had been captured, and two Greater Daemons had been slain.

This was an unprecedented victory. Once the news of this war's outcome was announced, it would surely cause an uproar.

The resurrected Primarchs—whether Guilliman or Dukel—proved with their actions that the era of the Primarchs was not over.

Without the help of the massive army under the Regent, it would have been difficult for the expeditionary forces alone to completely defeat such a large number of daemons, and the casualties would have been far greater.

Fulgrim had been imprisoned by the Grey Knights using special methods upon their arrival.

They even wanted to retrieve Magnus, whose head was the only part left, but Dukel decisively refused.

After seeing this, the Primarch temporarily gave up the idea of cutting off Fulgrim's head to carry with him—mainly because this brother, who had surrendered to Slaanesh, was too depraved, and unlike Magnus, he lacked substantial psychic knowledge.

Dukel was disgusted by the thought that carrying Fulgrim around would be useless, except to disgust himself.

They would all be sent to Terra anyway, to face the Emperor alongside Dukel.

The Krieg soldiers searched the ground for bodies. They dug out the nameplates of their fallen comrades from piles of bodies or pools of unrecognizable mangled flesh.

This was the only trace of the fallen warriors, the symbol of their glory.

It was the only thing that truly belonged to them.

The armor and weapons of the dead soldiers would be recycled, but only this small nameplate carried the soldier's life.

The Krieg soldiers searched very carefully, ensuring that the nameplate of every comrade was recovered.

From birth, they had almost nothing but the sin they were born into.

They were born to cleanse the sins of their ancestors, and their loyalty belonged to the Empire. To become qualified soldiers, they underwent rigorous training with a very high mortality rate, eventually becoming emotionless warriors who rushed into battle, willing to sacrifice their lives.

They didn't need names; a string of numbers was enough.

Therefore, every Krieger cherished his nameplate because it was unique to them.

It was the only witness to their existence in this world.

Cleaning up a battlefield was often more brutal than fighting in the war.

Dukel saw the heavy list held in the secretary's hands—it was the casualty list from this battle. The densely packed names—whose children, whose brothers, whose pride were they?

However, the Primarch quickly pushed these thoughts aside.

His brother Dorn remembered the names of every soldier under his command, every detail about them. That's why, whenever a war ended, Dorn always felt heartbroken.

Dukel, being a more emotional Primarch than Dorn, tended to rush into danger alone during major battles, leaving only his warriors to assist him from afar.

After the war ended, the Primarch led the Imperial warriors back to their makeshift camp.

They passed through the ruins of cities they had walked through on their way to cleanse the daemons.

Under the manipulation of the gods, humans in this world had been exterminated.

An entire industrial world—more than 10 billion fellow human beings.

The Imperial soldiers scoured the ruins of the city, hoping to find a few survivors from the shattered remains of their homes.

But the result was greatly disappointing.

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However, quite a few cultists were uncovered, and these traitors who had surrendered to Chaos were all purified amid the roar of grenade launchers.

The Imperial warriors executed these corrupted criminals without hesitation.

When the Imperial soldiers opened the steel gates of the city shelter, they were met with a sight that even the emotionally indifferent Astartes could not bear.

It was a massive deep pit, nearly one-tenth the size of the city. The pit was filled with human corpses, all badly mangled. It was evident they had suffered unimaginable torture before they died.

The surrounding walls were covered with blasphemous symbols carved in human blood.

And such massacres had occurred in one city after another.

Dukel guessed—perhaps every city had seen such blasphemous rituals, combined with the blood sacrifice that occurred when the Imperial warriors cleansed the daemons; after passing through 888 cities, Khorne had been able to exert such powerful energy in this physical world, not only extracting his own consciousness but even sending down an incarnation to fight with him.

"Burn them all."

Upon witnessing these tragic scenes, Dukel issued the order.

The Imperial soldiers looked at the countless corpses in the deep pit and the pool of blood that had accumulated within. Hatred blazed in their eyes.

Dukel breathed in the air of this world, and he could even feel the sorrow of the humans in this world, carried on the wailing winds that passed through the ruins of the city.

But there was no time for him to soothe the world's sorrow.

Dukel walked toward the temporary camp.

"Maybe I can't save everyone, but I can at least save my brother," Dukel thought as he dragged the dying body of the Fate Weaver, Carlos, with him.