Chapter 330: The Blood-Crazed Daemon
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!!!"
The cry tore through the storm of blood and wind. Chains pierced the creature's ragged wings; broken horns jutted from its skull.
Summoned from the dark, boiling pool of blood, the daemon stood towering over the crimson plain.
It was beyond imagining.
Khârn drew a sharp breath. He knew instantly—no one here could stand against that monster.
No—that daemon.
Without hesitation, Khârn ordered the World Eaters to form a defensive line, to protect the Blank in their midst, and to call for another wave of aerial bombardment.
But the freezing wind, thick with blood and static, seemed to howl in answer to the daemon's rage.
The vox signal broke into fragments; the storm above had swallowed the skies. Khârn couldn't tell if the fleet had even received his plea for support.
[Terra Time 00:16:00]
On the endless blood plains, there was nowhere left to retreat.
Then there was only one option—fight.
"For the Emperor! For Angron!!!"
Khârn roared, his voice rising even above the daemon's bellow.
He charged first, chain-axe raised high, and the other World Eaters followed, howling as they surged forward beside him.
The daemon hurled itself like a living cannonball at its challengers.
Skarbrand the Exiled One, wrathful and tormented, screamed in both pain and the joy of impending slaughter.
[Terra Time 00:16:34]
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Skarbrand crashed through his own daemonic host, smashing aside any lesser spawn that dared block his path to bloodshed.
The Worldbreaker Axe came down toward Khârn—and Khârn met it head-on, without fear!
Clang!
A shockwave thundered, enough to shatter bone.
Khârn felt every muscle in his body scream and tear.
He clenched his jaw so tightly blood filled his mouth, his face twisting with pain as the daemon's flames blazed before him.
For a heartbeat they were locked in a stalemate—Skarbrand's fanged maw opened wide, belching the stench of death straight into Khârn's face.
Rage burned bright in the daemon's eyes—Khârn's instincts screamed.
It was about to strike again!
The greater daemon's other claw tightened around Slaughter and swung.
Khârn twisted aside, sliding under the massive blow—he was ready to meet it—
—but then came the crack of shattering ceramite.
Khârn was sent flying.
Skarbrand's filthy hoof had caught him mid-motion, hurling him through the air.
The axe had never fallen—it had been a feint.
[Terra Time 00:16:36]
Boom!
Khârn slammed into the ground, mud and blood erupting around him.
His jaw was locked so tight his teeth bled.
His vision blurred, and through the haze he saw his brothers' bodies exploding into fragments above.
He struggled to rise from the freezing, blood-soaked ground.
His armor's heating system howled in alarm; he felt ribs or armor plates crack beneath his chestplate.
Khârn shook his head, forcing his vision to focus once more.
Then he raised his bolt pistol, firing as he charged straight at the daemon.
Shells that could crush ceramite armor barely made Skarbrand squint.
The Bloodthirster kept reaping skulls without pause, killing friend and foe alike.
[Terra Time 00:16:43]
Khârn reached the daemon again, shouting Angron's name as he raised his axe.
Alongside the last two surviving Centurions, he attacked the greater daemon head-on.
Three mortal Blank stayed close to them, firing through every opening, their weapons crackling against the daemon's hide.
A heavy bolt and two strange grenades found their mark—they blew out Skarbrand's left eye.
The daemon roared, screaming his god's name to the skies.
His massive, blood-red muscles bulged, and his rage burned even hotter.
Only blood and skulls could quench that fury!
Skarbrand swung his colossal axe again—the flat of the blade smashed into a World Eater, hurling him like a stone.
The body crashed into a Blank who hadn't dodged in time.
"Monster! Come for me!"
Khârn roared.
Khârn roared, spitting blood that hissed and sizzled against the inside of his helmet as it corroded the metal.
The Bloodthirster howled in both rage and exhilaration. Under the will of the Blood God, it could feel the singularity of the warrior before it—the one whose soul burned differently from the rest.
This one, yes—this soul would be its redemption.
It would offer this mortal's skull to its god with its own hands and thus cleanse its sin of exile!
With both massive axes it swung, putting all its strength into a single, head-cleaving strike. The chains threaded through its torn wings shrieked in the cold wind as they were pulled taut.
The sound of air itself being torn apart accompanied the downward arc of the blades.
No living being could possibly withstand such a blow.
But Khârn still raised his chain-axe high, bellowing defiance. The reflection of the descending weapon grew larger in his filthy, scarred helmet—
[Terra Time 00:16:46]
Clang!
Another deafening metallic impact—but it lacked the world-shattering power the daemon expected.
The flames wreathed around Skarbrand's body began to flicker and die out.
That was the first sign.
Skarbrand let out a shrill, enraged scream. He felt it—the will of the Blood God was pulling away from him once again.
Had he committed yet another sin against his god?!
The greater daemon roared in fury, raising his axes again to strike the white-armored warrior. The mortal's rage burned as bright as his own, yet his trembling legs told the Bloodthirster he could not withstand one more blow.
One more strike, and Skarbrand would have his skull—and regain his god's favor!
Clang! Clang!!
Two heavy rounds slammed into the daemon's axes, knocking their trajectory off-course.
Skarbrand's burning eyes widened in disbelief.
His blows—his unstoppable blows—had been deflected?!
Impossible!
Even in his chaotic mind, he could not comprehend why his own power was waning.
"Skarbrand!!!"
A voice—furious, thunderous—rang out through the shrieking blizzard, tearing open the storm itself.
Across the blood plains, the tide of Khorne's daemonic legions began to wither.
Those still crawling from the mud collapsed back into the blood pools, their limbs limp and lifeless.
The darkness was spreading.
Skarbrand turned in shock—his army of bloodspawn was fleeing?!
The Skulltakers screamed, throwing down their Hellblades, shoving one another as they ran toward their master in blind panic.
The Daemons of Khorne began slaying their own brethren in a desperate bid to return to the Warp before the encroaching shadow swallowed them.
Even the flesh hounds that had once driven them forward now bolted in terror, racing away from the blighted ground.
Skarbrand stared, uncomprehending.
He lowered his axes, eyes fixed on the wave of darkness rapidly advancing toward him.
He could feel Khorne's blessing slipping further and further away.
H-how… how could this be?
"Skarbrand! Come on, fight me!"
The voice again—shouting his name with precise clarity, filled with burning wrath.
But for the first time in his existence, Skarbrand could not feel the fighting spirit behind it.
Something was wrong.
Panting, the daemon tightened his grip on his twin axes, his foul breath misting into bloody vapor in the freezing air.
He should charge.
He should raise his weapons.
He should take his enemy's head and prove himself loyal to the Blood God!
He bellowed, calling out once more to his god—but his master had abandoned him again.
No… no, this was different.
Skarbrand suddenly realized—this was not like his former punishments.
Even when he had struck at Khorne himself, his god had cursed him with constant, unending pain—pain that was always there, always felt.
But now… even the pain was gone.
"My Lord!!! Blood God!!!"
He screamed into the void.
Bo answer came.
[Terra Time 00:16:53]
Countless servants of the Blood God fled past the Exiled One without a second's hesitation.
Skarbrand staggered back a step, his hoof sinking into the freezing, viscous pool of blood beneath him.
He spread his arms wide and roared in fury, yet even as he screamed, he could feel his own voice fading—the oncoming darkness surged straight toward him, and the daemons beside him melted into pus and gore.
Skarbrand lifted his head.
His massive jaws opened in a stupid, desperate snarl as he raised both axes to meet the enemy.
The flames in the Bloodthirster's eyes flickered out.
Reflected within them was the faint glow of a full moon, glinting off a black scythe.
The Lord of the Underworld leapt, slicing through the storm—his cloak of darkness snapping in the wind as his weapon swept down toward the daemon's skull.
From the blood pool behind Skarbrand, eight flesh hounds erupted upward in a frenzy—but their target was not Hades.
Their fanged maws turned on Skarbrand himself, lunging at him with terrifying precision.
In the final instant before the absolute darkness engulfed him, Skarbrand felt that familiar, soul-crushing sensation—banishment.
A heartbeat later, the eight flesh hounds—larger and more monstrous than any of their kind—gave a single, pitiful whine before they too vanished forever into the black.
Hades landed heavily, sending up a splash of dark blood around his boots.
He stood silently, staring in the direction the daemonic horde had fled.
Then he spat onto the ground.
"Cowards." he muttered.
And in the very next second—every servant of the Blood God still within his sight had their skulls burst open, one after another.
Blood rained down in sheets, like crimson confetti marking the overture of a feast.
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