Five months after Nareth's arrival on Drune, with the major psychic nodes systematically eliminated, they finally breached the barriers and reached the network's central node.
Outside the hive city at the central node, he met with Horus Lupercal and Mortarion.
"Nareth," Horus's smile held a hint of scrutiny. Since finding Russ on Fenris, this was their first face-to-face meeting.
It had been even longer since he had taught Nareth on the Simian World.
Nareth's achievements in the Great Crusade, the size of Shadows of Order, and his personal power arsenal all burned within Horus.
Were it not for Shadows of Order having endured a series of brutal campaigns and focusing its efforts on governing its territories, Horus might have abandoned his protracted diplomatic negotiations.
"Horus." Nareth greeted him with a calm smile.
"Nareth."
Nareth keenly noticed that Mortarion was not as warm as he had been on Barbarus.
His tone, though not as repulsive as Russ's, carried a certain distance.
"Mortarion." Nareth's tone was even.
"One target." Mortarion ascended to the third level of the mindstate, his consciousness expanding.
Gripping his scythe, he said, "One sweep of my scythe will judge the sorcerous xenos."
He strode forward, wind rushing past.
Mortarion felt as if he were back on that night, advancing on the highest peak, beheading the Tyrant of Barbarus, liberating his world.
Today, fate had given him a similar task.
Slay the sorcerous monster, liberate Drune.
"A decapitation strike," Horus agreed.
"Of course," Nareth drew the Osiron mind staff from his back.
Beneath his hood, Mortarion glanced darkly at the staff, then stepped forward. The Death Guard followed in silence.
"Let's go. End this. Father wants this beacon of human civilization liberated." Horus quickly outpaced Mortarion, who wore heavier armor.
Father had named him first at the war council. He was Father's hope. It was fitting that he deliver the final blow.
Father would be pleased with his achievement.
Nareth's gaze swept over Abaddon, Torgaddon, and the other members of the Mournival. He did not linger on Arkhas Fal, Balsar Kurthuri, and the others of the 19th Legion.
He easily kept pace with the two Primarchs, staying a step behind Horus.
Then, a massive form came into view.
Its shadow blotted out the bright hive city.
Its body was covered in dense eyes.
Its tentacles draped over twelve spires.
Golden light blazed from Nareth's spine. He instantly ascended to the third level of the Thelema mindstate, thinking with awe.
'Such size. No wonder it could bind Horus, Mortarion, and Jaghatai.'
He knew Enslavers had no physical form in the Warp, consisting purely of psychic energy, feeding on the will of psykers.
The form they coalesced in reality, its size and number of eyes, depended on their psychic energy.
This Enslaver leader was clearly far more terrifying than any encountered before.
Horus and Mortarion saw the immense form moments later. Both showed a flicker of surprise.
Mortarion gripped his scythe. It was no different. Just another psychic monster, destined to fall before his blade.
He strode forward. One step. Two steps...
He felt a sickening, slimy tentacle wrap around him.
His body grew heavier. His eyelids began to close.
"Sorcerous... xenos..."
Mortarion's throat seemed pulled by countless threads. Each word was agony.
Mist filled his vision. He was back on Barbarus's peak.
Pale forms drifted in the mist. Necare's mocking laughter echoed.
"Die..."
He swung his scythe, slashing at the pale specters in the mist.
Nathaniel Garro watched his gene-father's scythe slow, until it moved slower than a mortal's.
When it stopped, he stood like a statue.
He ran, desperately trying to see, an unthinkable thought flashing through his mind.
'Father, the Death Guard's Primarch, the resilient Mortarion, is being...'
Horus felt Mortarion stop, to his right and behind him.
He turned in shock. Then he felt a rope around his neck. His head turned with agonizing slowness.
His pupils widened. He saw Mortarion, scythe in hand.
Turning back was even harder.
He felt as if trapped in thick slime. Every part of his body moved with abnormal slowness.
"I..." A golden figure flashed through his mind. He raised his right arm.
Tentacles shredded the golden figure.
"Father." Ezekyle Abaddon, Torgaddon, and the other Mournival members cried out.
Primarch, the Luna Wolves' gene-father, the Wolf-King, Horus Lupercal, stood helpless, frozen in place.
Clouds obscured the pearly tide. The Luna Wolves ran in terror through the shadows.
Arkhas Fal, Nerat Kirine, Balsar Katuri, and Alastor Rushal watched in shock as Mortarion and Horus, one after another, froze like statues.
They quickly looked at the Black Emperor, then breathed sighs of relief.
The Black Emperor moved beyond the "statues," continuing forward.
Nareth raised his Osiris mind staff. 'The Enslaver mind-controlled Horus and Mortarion, but it could not bind me.'
Light and shadow flickered in the Primarch's eyes.
As they flickered, dark spots appeared on the shimmering mental tentacles surging towards him.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
Mental collisions raised towering waves in the Sea of Souls. The Sea of Souls shook.
Countless Warp entities, drawn to the portals the Enslaver had opened, eager to enter Drune but held back, were torn to shreds.
In the Empyrean, within the Impossible Fortress's crystal spires, Tzeentch's gaze fell upon Drune.
He saw the frozen Horus and Mortarion. He saw the clash of light and shadow storms against the mental tentacles.
He saw the predators flee, only to be caught in the psychic storm and torn apart.
The ever-changing faces on His skin paused. From above His burning eyes, two curved horns, their spiral tips burning with blue and pink flames, extended.
With a crackle, He spoke, in a tone different from His usual mockery, with pleasure.
"Mind. Will."
Countless faces on His skin echoed His words in subtly different tones.
He saw countless daemons drawn by the storm.
As the Enslaver weakened, they surged towards the portals, howling.
Echoes reverberated in the crystal spires. He saw golden light gather in Nareth's throat.
He opened his mouth. A golden griffin roared from his throat.
Golden light swallowed the portals.
The explosion echoed long in the Empyrean.
The golden light shredded the foolish, advancing daemons. Lucky ones scattered in the spreading rain of light.
Tzeentch looked away in disgust, His gaze relishing the red giant.
After finishing the Enslaver with the "Griffin's Roar," Nareth spread his wings, catching the falling mass.
At the same moment, in the hive city, the hundreds of enslaved psykers that formed part of the node collapsed.
Horus raised his right arm. A glimmer of gold entered his eyes.
'Father...' The thought had barely formed when he saw the black armor.
He realized. He hadn't drawn strength from the golden light in his memory to break the xenos's mental shackles.
Nareth had killed the xenos.
Horus holstered his boltgun, forcing a smile for his sons.
"I'm fine."
Mortarion awoke from his nightmare, drenched in cold sweat.
He gripped his scythe, confused. Seeing Calas Typhon, he realized it had all been a dream.
Necare hadn't enslaved him. He had liberated Barbarus.
He looked towards the psychic monster, then saw Nareth catch the falling xenos corpse.
He turned silently. His hood clung to his head, covering his pale forehead.
"Leave. Drune is not for us."
Nareth, carrying the Enslaver, thought with joy.
'All the potion materials are gathered. I can perform the advancement ritual now.'
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu