Chapter 8: Intrigue and Mystery

"Blood for the Blood God!"
The sound was that of an axe blade cleaving through steel.
"For the glory of Macragge!"
That was the sound of a blade biting into flesh, followed by a heavy body hitting the ground.
*Squelch.*
Blood sprayed wide. As the headless corpse of the heretic knelt and collapsed powerlessly forward, the surrounding roars grew ever more fanatical.
"Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!"
The heretic’s blasphemous chants grated against his eardrums. Sifris watched in silence as yet another heretic leapt into the dueling pit before him.
He did not strike first.
He was waiting for the stakes of this duel.
"There are none left. You have won everything, warrior."
A Khorne Berserker, nearly three meters tall, drew his dual axes. The chain-blades began to rev, throwing off sparks.
Eight skulls, eight pairs of offerings, and a warrior who had endured the eight trials—the gates of the Blood God’s realm were already swinging open for him.
He could feel the eight lakes of blood within that endless crimson wasteland boiling for him; the Blood God had already prepared eight wars for him, enough to ascend in rank.
The craving to reap this warrior’s skull and let his blood flow over his own armor echoed in his heart.
"Now, I shall take it all—your life along with it!"
The traitor’s voice was like thunder, as if fused with the roaring, fire-spewing power pack on his back, a symbol of the warrior's boundless might.
He stood in a state of absolute triumph.
Sifris remembered clearly how those axe blades had struck from behind, tearing apart the comrade who had been fending off the Orks.
The front of that gore-stained Cataphractii Terminator armor still bore the jagged rent left by his comrade.
And as the enemy who had left that mark upon him, the traitor carried his comrade’s severed head, impaled upon a spike extending from his back.
Sifris remained silent; he did not rage against the injustice before him, for he knew there was no honor to be found in a traitor.
He dragged his heavy iron armor forward and lifted his notched sword once more.
"For the glory of Macragge!"
It was a bloody gladiatorial arena, the roars of warriors echoing throughout.
Everywhere there were severed limbs and shattered remains. Maddened Void Rats dragged broken tissue into the tunnels. The corpses of Deathwatch warriors were skewered from crotch to crown and mounted on high scaffolds as railings, while viscous matter—a mix of brain tissue and blood—coated the surrounding steel like spiderwebs stretching through a jungle.
A thick, metallic stench of blood hit the air, and the crimson Warp miasma dyed the base of the generator a deep, bloody red.
In the center of the arena, an Apothecary in white armor was struggling for his life.
Beside him lay the eight corpses of Chaos Space Marines.
He was gravely wounded; his power pack had long been ripped away, and a massive hole gaped in his chest, both hearts within shattered.
His opponent was a fully armed Khorne Berserker, a giant who stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Arthur.

Arthur noticed the Cataphractii Terminator in the center of the battlefield at a glance, dueling a heavily damaged Mk7 Space Marine while shielded by an energy barrier.
The Sisters of Battle, having caught up to the team, stared at the scene, their eyes burning with explosive rage.
"Restrain yourselves, sisters! Form a perimeter!"
The Canoness barked a command, and the twenty-six Battle Sisters scattered rapidly, seeking ambush positions.
"Does the Blood God not value honorable duels?"
After tossing out the casual question, Arthur, his eyes assaulted by the sight, flickered and pierced into the arena as if teleporting.
Anger could not solve problems, but slaughter could.
He would wipe out these things that dared to challenge his worldview with evil rituals; he would show no mercy.
"The Blood God doesn't care where the blood comes from."
Romulus looked at the carnage in the dueling pit and shook his head slightly. He remotely signaled the Ultramarines to unleash their firepower while activating his external speakers.
"Seal the exits, kill them all. Let no one escape."
The Ultramarines surrounding the pit moved in perfect unison. One hand flicked off the safety and clamped down on the trigger, while the other arm pressed firmly against the top of the bolter, suppressing the recoil until it was near zero. The Battle Sisters switched to meltaguns, using explosions to seal every possible escape route in the lower sectors.
Gunfire and explosions instantly replaced the fanatical shrieks of the Chaos heretics. The many Chaos Space Marines who had just been gathered around the pile of corpses were riddled with bolter shells just as they reached for their profane weapons.
The struggles of these heretics, much like the ruined ritual in the pit, were utterly meaningless.
*Bang!*
Arthur descended from the sky, cleanly pressing his plasma pistol against the forehead of the Khorne Terminator and delivering a shot of loyalist plasma.
But the Blood God’s blessing allowed the Terminator to shrug off the unstoppable plasma; the Khorne warrior merely leaned back to dissipate the impact, used his thick arm-plating to parry the power sword thrusting at his head, and swung his dual axes toward Arthur.
A master.
This was the first enemy who could trade blows with Arthur.
His expression grew solemn, his focus sharpening.
Arthur caught the downward swing from the right with his blade, knocked aside a feinting shield—which was actually a throwing axe aimed at the Apothecary to complete the ritual—and shoved forward, sending the Khorne Terminator staggering.
"Dog of the False Emperor, you..."
Ignoring the Khorne warrior's furious roar, Arthur released his longsword, which had been locked in a struggle with the blessed axe blades. Once free from the pressure, he stepped in and threw a punch, his ceramite-encased fist slamming into the warrior's already mutated skull.
*Squelch!*
The twisted head was sent flying, a torrent of blood spraying from the severed neck. The profane body, as if failing to realize the brain was dead, remained in a striking stance.
Arthur took a step back, caught his power sword before it hit the ground, and let the axe blade graze his chest plate.
By the time he finished this movement, the firepower of Romulus and his men had shredded the remaining living threats.
Even Space Marines stood no chance against such sudden, saturated firepower.
The crimson mist began to thin.
Rage! Rage!
In the realm that flowed forever with blood, endless fury surged within the heart of the God of Slaughter.
A duel, a bloody duel, had been ruined.
Right under His nose.
He had gained neither the warrior’s skull nor a servant capable of bringing Him more. The power He had projected vanished along with the death of His servant; He had gained nothing and lost His investment.
Who was it!
Khorne glared at the domain. He could see the followers of the Cursed One, He could see the corpses of His servants, but for all His might, He could not see the figure who had stolen His skull.
Damnation—it was a calculation that could irritate even a god.
"Tzeentch!"
A glimpse of a ghostly blue image flashed through His thoughts. Seated upon the Brass Throne, the Blood God let out a roar that shook the very foundation of existence.
Since He could not find who it was, He would make that deceiver who loved to shroud the truth pay the price!
Only slaughter could resolve this!
As the Blood God’s roar echoed, the great brass bells of the crimson wasteland began to toll. Molten metal transformed into a surging torrent, grinding skulls into dust as it flowed into the eternally operating Slaughter Furnace.
Steel bulls, shrines of blood, and countless constructs formed of Chaos machinery and souls of slaughter began to charge forth from the Tower of Skulls.
Even the abnormally thick Red River, irrigated by eternal war and slaughter, thinned as the countless butchers of the wasteland ceased their blade-work, gazing with longing fire toward the Lord of Slaughter seated upon the Brass Throne.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
The Blood God’s wrath is eternal; the Blood God’s blades never rest.
There was only one reason to bring an eternal duel to a halt.
A greater war!
"Skulls for the Skull Throne!!!"
Beneath the layered, blood-red sky, fully armed warriors erupted in fanatical roars.
When the eighth chime fell, the brass horns resonated throughout the Blood God’s realm.
888 Greater Daemons of Khorne, leading their infernal hosts, began their march toward the endless blue labyrinth.
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And as the burning iron hooves crushed the walls of the iridescent labyrinth, the twisting, amorphous entity seated atop a dried-up well finally opened its myriad eyes.
"Change."
It whispered, the clashing of countless lips and teeth filled with boundless ecstasy.
It was as if the Khorne daemons rampaging through its realm were an army sent to rescue it.
"Hee hee, a war never foreseen!"