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Sergeant Calyx felt his breathing growing increasingly difficult. The external injuries had caused not only hemopneumothorax but also severe blood loss. Although the Larraman's Organ could seal wounds and the third lung could provide supplemental oxygen, his overall bodily functions were clearly compromised.
Damn it… these two Horus figures were stronger than expected. He had thought his feigned death would deceive them—at the very least, he could have taken one of them out while they checked the body.
He wanted to roar, but a mouthful of blood surged up instead, leaving him with nothing but a weak, rasping cough.
He hated himself in this state of weakness. With his nemesis still alive, how could he fall here? The searing pain, the blood he couldn't swallow—none of it mattered.
"Horus!" he rasped, blood spilling from his mouth and nose. "Die!"
Watching Sergeant Calyx charge at him again, Ignis felt his scalp prickle. Blood streamed from the seams of the helmet, mixed with choking coughs, yet the sergeant had not abandoned the fight—even though he faced nothing but false enemies.
The Black Rage had granted him endless courage, along with its final madness.
Ignis watched Calyx maneuver at high speed in sharp zigzags and couldn't help feeling a headache coming on. The sergeant's mobility was simply too great, offering countless opportunities for hit-and-run strikes. The nature of lightning claws gave him lethal, one-strike kill potential, while Ignis's side had very few effective counters.
This was truly awful.
Cerakos reloaded the lever-action A4A gun with Dragon's Breath shells and began suppressive fire. The damage was negligible, but the flames at least disrupted the sergeant's vision, forcing him to choose his attack routes more cautiously.
The sergeant initially charged from the left, but that path was obscured by flame. He immediately rolled and attacked from the right.
Frankly, that wasn't the best choice. Most warriors favored their right hand. Even though Space Marines were generally ambidextrous, the right was still the primary option.
The Salamander blocked the attack with his thunder hammer. When it met the lightning claw, a shockwave erupted. Ignis had calculated the timing of the strike and quietly increased the hammer's power input.
Sergeant Calyx was already wounded, his chest tight with pain. The shockwave slammed into him, forcing several mouthfuls of blood out at once. He steadied his mind by sheer force of will and launched a ferocious assault on Ignis.
Both lightning claws struck in tandem, and the Salamander could only swing his thunder hammer with all his strength to defend.
Seeing the blood continuously seeping from the helmet seams, Ignis felt a twinge of reluctance. But he couldn't stop. Though the sergeant's movements had slowed somewhat, his technique remained viciously refined. Several feints even tricked Ignis into attacking prematurely, nearly exposing fatal openings.
The lightning claws slashed past his face again and again. The sergeant showed no restraint despite his injuries—if Ignis didn't use thunder strikes against him, Calyx didn't bother defending at all.
Several heavy blows landed squarely on the sergeant's body. Tendon coils and torn flesh endured crushing force. Calyx's vision darkened. After forcing out a few more attacks, he leaned back and activated his jump pack, withdrawing from the exchange.
This was the first time the sergeant had shown clear signs of decline.
"He's slowing down. The bleeding is severe," Ignis said, watching Calyx hover. Blood kept flowing from the helmet, though the punctured chest plate had stopped leaking.
"He probably doesn't have long," Cerakos replied, his voice heavy with loss. He felt deep guilt for failing to grant the sergeant a swift release.
"At that rate, maybe ten minutes at most," Ignis said, gripping the thunder hammer with both hands. "After that, he'll go into shock from blood loss."
The Salamander was truly grateful that Calyx wasn't a Primaris Space Marine. If the Belisarian Furnace activated, the two of them might not be able to win at all. Still, this slow attrition toward death was cruel—completely opposite to their original intent of giving Sergeant Calyx a clean release.
Ignis couldn't help wondering how much the Blood Angels Chapter had paid to deal with warriors lost to the Black Rage. And that wasn't even counting Terminators and Dreadnoughts driven into the Black Rage. Especially the latter—was that really something manpower alone could stop? What kind of warrior could pull that off? Flesh made holy?
Horus… I will tear you apart!
He felt his hands trembling—an unnatural sensation, the first time it had happened. His strength was fading, and his body's response to thought was slowing.
Blood loss, he judged quickly.
This must end fast.
The raptor lunged again, his movements already unsteady. Cerakos engaged his brother-in-arms once more. He was no longer frantic—he could now steadily receive each attack and counter in turn. Yet there was no joy in this. His heart only grew heavier.
The blade flicked upward, exposing Calyx's chest completely. Cerakos had his chance. All he needed was a single forward thrust to pierce the sergeant's throat and grant him release.
But at that instant, he hesitated.
The sergeant had once saved him. He couldn't bring himself to take his life.
In that moment of hesitation, Calyx's lightning claw struck. It was too late to bring the sword back to defend. Crackling blue claws lunged for his head—this time, there was no escaping.
A massive force yanked him aside. Ignis intervened just in time, grabbing Cerakos's power pack and pulling him clear.
"Don't freeze up! He doesn't recognize you!" the Salamander roared. "To him, you are Horus—the greatest enemy of your Primarch!"
For the first time, the gentle giant showed true anger.
"Cerakos!" Cecilia ran out from her hiding place. The moment had been far too dangerous—she was terrified of losing her last remaining family.
"Damn it!" Ignis saw her emerge and instantly realized how bad this was.
Calyx, enraged that his killing blow had been thwarted, spotted an even smaller Horus appearing in the distance.
Damn traitor—one after another! Fine, I'll start with you! Then I'll kill the other two!
Under the control of the Black Rage, Calyx used a feint to deceive both Space Marines, then pushed his jump pack to maximum output and charged straight at the smallest Horus. She neither dodged nor countered—she just stood there, stunned.
Whatever you're doing—die! Horus!
Seeing Sergeant Calyx rush toward Cecilia, Cerakos felt his blood run cold. He hadn't been present when Tyrannus died. That old friend had once told him that if he fell, Cecilia would be his responsibility. Over the years, Cerakos had watched her grow—from a little girl into a graceful young lady.
Even her decision to become a Proxy had been to help him fulfill his wish—to free Sergeant Calyx, trapped between the Black Rage and the Hollow.
And now, the mad sergeant was charging straight at her. What could he do?
How he wished he had wings—wings like those of the legendary gene-father. Then he could fly ahead and place himself between Cecilia and danger.
"If you want wings, then borrow mine."
A gentle voice echoed by his ear.
Ignis witnessed a miracle. A pair of golden, illusory wings suddenly manifested on Cerakos's back. He lifted off, streaking forward like a falling star chasing the moon—far faster than Sergeant Calyx.
Blade and lightning claw collided again, the crisp clang of metal ringing endlessly.
Cerakos caught up. Only after trading more than a dozen exchanges did he realize—he was fighting in midair. He didn't understand what power this was, but for now, he had succeeded in intercepting the mad sergeant.
"Hide, young lady!" Ignis rushed in, raising his thunder hammer and joining the fight.
Cerakos twisted his blade to lock the sergeant's right claw, then shoved the sword's weighted pommel into Calyx's head. The sergeant tried to counter with his left hand to force him back, but his body responded too slowly. A heavy impact and dizziness struck—he lost the exchange head-on.
This was unacceptable.
Just as Calyx stabilized himself, the Salamander's thunder hammer struck from the left, while Cerakos's follow-up came simultaneously.
He couldn't handle both at once. Blood loss and the head strike dulled his mind and body. The only option left was to activate the jump pack and retreat.
Retreat? From his nemesis?
After creating distance, the thought filled him with self-loathing.
He spat out several mouthfuls of blood. Weakness flooded his limbs. His hands trembled in his vision. No—he couldn't fall yet! Horus still lived! They still lived!
The fire of hatred burned fiercely, but his body was on the brink of collapse. If it burned any hotter, it would consume him as well.
Then let it burn!
Anyone—anyone at all! Give me power! I will tear Horus apart!
"Damn it!" Ignis saw the Ether crystals on the sergeant flare brilliantly, their activation level so high that they began absorbing Ether energy from the Hollow itself.
He had seen this stance before—the Dead End Butcher, and the Marionettes, had shown it as well.
The Ether crystals grew explosively, engulfing Calyx's entire body. His power armor vanished, replaced by a humanoid Ethereal taller than the Salamander himself.
Massive claws. A long, powerful frame. Most striking of all were the wings on its back. The damn thing had even used Ether crystals to simulate feathers—though they provided little lift, relying instead on an overdriven jump pack.
A Son of the Angel lost to the Black Rage would believe himself to be Sanguinius. Clearly, the Hollow's corruption had given that delusion form—constructing a false angelic image. Blasphemy.
This sight filled Cerakos with unbearable anguish, especially when the black-hole-like core—symbol of an Ethereal's power—manifested in the creature's chest.
"Don't defile him, you monster!" Cerakos took flight with the aid of the golden wings, raising his power sword and charging in attack.
The opponent was more than twice his size. One sweep of its arm sent a massive claw crashing toward him.
"You are not him! You cannot stop me!" Cerakos roared, meeting the blow head-on and cleaving the claw apart with a single strike.
Yes—this humanoid didn't understand combat. The transformation was incomplete. Calyx was still resisting, fighting for control of his body.
The Ethereal's wound regenerated rapidly, but that brief window was enough for Cerakos to reach its chest.
The power sword fell toward the core—decisive, merciless. His hesitation was gone. Sergeant Calyx would never want to die as a monster. He had to be freed before the transformation completed.
Suddenly, a mass of newly grown crystals blocked the strike. The disintegration field activated, but the brief delay was enough for the creature to rocket away. Vast amounts of Ether energy were forced into the jump pack—it was nearly tearing itself apart.
The Ethereal swatted its claws like it was crushing a mosquito. Such clumsy attacks could never hit Cerakos. Trailing golden light, he slipped past its arms, severing its offensive limbs once again.
After completing the strike, he accelerated, pursuing the Ethereal relentlessly.
At this point, the most awkward position belonged to Ignis. There was almost nothing he could do. He had used psychic assistance for controlled descent before, but flight was a completely different matter. All he could do now was watch Cerakos chase the Ethereal formed from Sergeant Calyx high above.
Time and again, the Lamenter shattered the Ethereal's body structure, only for it to regenerate using ambient Ether energy.
This became a battle of endurance and will. If Cerakos couldn't maintain flight, the Ethereal would escape, retreat elsewhere, and eventually consume Sergeant Calyx completely. If that happened, everything would be lost.
Failing to personally grant Calyx release would become a lifelong burden—worse still, it might even trigger Cerakos's own Black Rage.
The golden wings were nearly solid now. Ignis had heard that the Blood Angels' Sanguinary Guard possessed wings, but those were more ornamental. Cerakos's speed kept increasing—no matter how much energy the Ethereal pumped into its jump pack, it couldn't pull away.
The power sword carved through the Ethereal's structure, draining Ether energy. Soon, the creature was forced to stop fleeing and turn to face Cerakos.
Its movements were stiff and uncoordinated—it couldn't properly control this body. Cerakos easily evaded the attack and drove his blade deep into the core in its chest.
"You are not him! You ugly thing are not Calyx!" he roared. "You are nothing but a malformed monster! You will never replace him—never control him!"
"I will give him peace! Now! Die!"
Golden light flared from the power sword. The core exploded. The Ether-crystal body disintegrated.
Calyx was thrown free. He lay motionless, seemingly unconscious. Cerakos rushed forward, caught him, and descended slowly.
"You know what must be done," Ignis said as he approached. "If you can't do it, I will."
"No. This must be done by me." Cerakos raised his sword.
His hands no longer trembled. The sergeant lost to the Black Rage was about to receive eternal rest. Those damned visions would finally end.
And so will my old story.
The blade thrust toward the throat—but instead of resistance, there was a sharp crack.
Sergeant Calyx woke. With his last strength, he raised his right hand. He no longer even had the energy to activate a disintegration field. The power sword shattered the claw and passed through, piercing his neck.
The sergeant raised his left hand, trying to launch a final attack—trying to reach Cerakos.
But the motion was far too weak.
Yes… after massive blood loss and Ether corruption, even lifting a hand was the final blessing granted by the Black Rage.
Cerakos released the power sword. He knew the sergeant's spine was severed. He grasped that outstretched hand.
"Please rest well, Sergeant Calyx," he whispered softly.
The golden wings vanished, replaced by a stream of golden light that flowed from Cerakos's shoulders and arms into Calyx's broken body.
Cerakos felt it—the hand that had been tensely clenched suddenly relaxed. The Son of the Angel lost to the Black Rage had finally been freed. Death draped him in an eternal black veil of peace.
"I'll carry him."
Seeing Cerakos sway unsteadily, Ignis offered to help.
"No. This is my responsibility. I will take him out of here." Though his own steps were heavy, the Lamenter hoisted the sergeant onto his shoulder. "After that, I'll need you to prepare the funeral pyre."
"No problem," Ignis said, looking at the smaller Space Marine. "I'll protect you on the way out."
"Cecilia." Cerakos took a deep breath, fixing his gaze on the young lady. "Let's go. It's time to go home. The grapes on the trellis are almost ripe."
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