Chapter 118: The Final Duel - Conceptual Warfare
Horus roared, his eyes flashing with madness and fanaticism. Each of his attacks unleashed a powerful chaotic force, enough to distort space and disrupt time itself. The Emperor's eyes revealed boundless wisdom and pain.
Every psychic blow He unleashed was like a destructive beam of light, tearing through the void. Each strike carried the power to tear a planet apart.
The orbits of stars collapsed under His hand. Several worlds turned to ash in His psychic storms, disappearing into the endless void. Each collision with Horus shattered planetoids, unleashing violent blast waves that scattered debris across the edge of the solar system.
The line between reality and illusion had become blurred.
Their battle did not only take place in the materium. It was intertwined in the realm of the immaterium as well.
Spacetime became extremely unstable during their clash, sometimes appearing in different dimensions and sometimes in various locations simultaneously. The Warp bled through into material reality like poison seeping from a wound.
...
On Terra, war raged. The power of the Warp intertwined with reality as Malcador sat upon the throne of his late master.
He frowned, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, his heart filled with conflicting emotions. He murmured to himself, watching the distant energetic disturbances in the aether.
"They wanted to extinguish the flames with Chaos, but unfortunately, that only turned into more fuel." His voice carried the weight of ancient understanding. "When the golden sun, representing new life, turns black, destruction follows."
His tone carried a deep sense of regret and helplessness. 'They are propelling the Emperor to even greater heights in an irreversible way.'
Suddenly, Malcador's gaze sharpened. Something moved at the edge of his perception.
"How could there be anything else there? Could it be their trick?!" His expression changed slightly, and his voice became low and suspicious.
He extended his senses across the void toward the Vengeful Spirit. What he found gave him pause.
On the warship, which should have been reduced to ruins in the battle between the Emperor and Horus, a solitary structure still stood. It was a small fortress built of blackstone, with sharp edges and ancient lines. It stood alone in the ruins like an unchanging monument.
Neither the sprawling wreckage nor the surging warp-flames seemed able to touch this fortress. It was a null-zone of perfect silence amid the chaos.
The sounds of the battle between the Emperor and Horus continued to be deafening. Each strike generated massive shockwaves that further disrupted the surrounding ruins.
But no matter how fierce the battle, the blackstone fortress remained steadfast. Immovable. Null.
Malcador allowed himself the faintest smile. "Clever, Francis. Very clever."
Inside the blackstone fortress, Francis's hands moved with practiced precision, adjusting the massive blackstone-reinforced crossbow.
The crossbow's frame was covered in anti-Chaos runes, each one shimmering with a faint glow. The massive string was drawn taut, emitting a deep, resonant hum that thrummed through the null-space!
The Spear of Russ lay silently beside the giant crossbow, radiating cold light. Its tip seemed to tremble slightly, as if it knew it was about to be given a new purpose, one far beyond its original design.
Just as Francis aimed the Spear of Russ at the crossbow groove, preparing to insert it as ammunition, Leman Russ's deep voice suddenly cut through the concentrated silence.
"Francis...is this really going to work?"
Francis was immediately startled and growled in frustration. "Throne! People can scare each other to death, don't you know that?"
He turned back to his work, hands steady despite the trembling of reality outside. "This will help a little, I think!"
After saying that, Francis, together with Leman Russ and Sanguinius, began to push the blackstone fortress closer and closer to Horus.
The three of them moved in synchronization, their combined strength straining against the weight of the null-material structure.
Leman Russ stared at the duel outside in disbelief. "Is this really something a human could do?"
The cosmic battle before them was like witnessing the birth and death of universes compressed into a single moment.
"You've used plenty of psychic energy yourself, don't you know that?" Francis grumbled and cursed as he adjusted the trajectory. T
he two of them worked in practiced rhythm, seemingly oblivious to Sanguinius's strange, distant expression...as if the Blood Angel were communing with something beyond their perception.
...
At the heights of the war-torn void near Terra, Horus's Talon descended like a falling moon, pinning the Emperor to the shattered hull plating. The spiked claws pierced through the golden armor. Sparks of psychic energy burst forth, and the entire battlefield trembled.
Horus looked down at the Emperor, his eyes burning with the fanaticism and contempt infused by the Four Gods.
"Behold...your glory has faded. Now, the galaxy will be reshaped with me at its center!"
But in another dimension twisted and alternate, another version of the Emperor rose to meet a different Horus.
His soul transformed into raging flames, driving an ork horde in a thunderous "Waaaaaaagh!" toward the Warmaster in that realm, tearing apart every inch of his flesh protected by Chaos.
Horus's rage transformed into a chaotic storm, retaliating against the orcish tide. But he was ultimately torn apart by endless brute force, his form dissolving and reforming across multiple realities simultaneously.
Dimensions were ever-changing. They switched forms in every thought and instant, clashing with each other in entirely new conceptual frameworks, a war not just of bodies but of ideas themselves.
Horus's power had woven a boundless labyrinth, forged from fear and deception.
The walls were interwoven with fissures and illusions, attempting to trap the Emperor within an impossible geometry.
The Emperor then transformed into a colossal architect. He shattered the false walls of the labyrinth with every step, wielding conceptual mastery.
Using the power of countless ingenuities and construction, He precisely pinpointed every weakness in the maze. Each discovery was a precision strike against Horus's design.
With a deafening psychic explosion, the labyrinth crumbled into nothingness.
Horus swiftly transformed, becoming a psychic hunter wielding the winds of Chaos in pursuit. His form was predatory, impossible, constantly shifting.
The Emperor then transformed into a giant raven, spreading His wings to traverse the endless void. His sharp gaze tore through the chaotic haze with surgical precision.
And once again, He transformed...into a steppe rider, galloping across scorching plains, then bypassing the towering conceptual Tree with its vast and intertwined roots that threatened to ensnare Him.
Rumble!
All the images shattered instantly. Only two points of light could be seen in the pitch-black conceptual space.
From the chaos emerged symbols made manifest, concepts given form and teeth.
The High Priest carried the Crone upon his back. They spoke incoherently with cloudy eyes, harassing the Emperor with putrid and meaningless curses while constantly throwing out Silver Gates to keep Him barred from progress.
The Terran Lords upheld humanity's homeland, riding upon powerful enemies whose psychic energy ignited flames of desperate defiance.
The two concepts collided, and each impact was like the birth and destruction of a universe. This conflict tore apart the dimensions themselves. Countless cracks appeared, and time and space trembled in Chaos.
Horus sensed the Emperor's sorrow and forced Him to drink dust squeezed from conquered worlds, which suffocated Him with despair.
But that was far from enough.
Horus also deployed the Judge to punish Him, and the Tower to consolidate His power. The Ancient World weakened His eternal life, and the King of Swords charged at Him with righteous fury.
The Emperor retaliated in kind, using Violence to punish the Judge, while the Mole dug through the Tower's foundations.
Technology destroyed the Ancient World, and the Dragon devoured the Sword King.
All of this did not faze Horus, who once again unleashed the Eight-Pointed Star to lash Him. The Avenger protected him, and the Orphan deceived His mind with lies that cut deeper than any blade.
The Emperor felt the pain of being separated from His bloodline. He could not accept it; this pain was His true vulnerability.
Seeing this weakness, Horus finally revealed his trump card: the Dark King itself, tearing off the Last Fig Leaf and mercilessly mocking Him with the promise of power beyond measure.
Even though the Emperor sent Assassins against this concept, they were captured by the Avenger, who pierced through them with contemptuous ease.
Horus's Extinction negated the Emperor's Enlightenment. But the Emperor's Eagles, Order, and Scholars continued to erode Horus's position, bit by bit.
Horus then pulled out the Terrible Archer, a final conceptual weapon of devastating power!
Finally, with no other option remaining, the Emperor pulled out "Francis" and turned everything into conceptual chaos itself!
Like a massive null-zone erupting from a single point, it plunged everything into disorder and madness, unraveling the carefully constructed metaphysical battle layer by layer. The blackstone of his creation, represented in pure concept, nullified all design.
Rumble!
The conceptual scene shattered once more, eventually returning consciousness back to the material realm.
Amidst the intertwining of fragmented reality and illusion, the Emperor's figure gradually appeared heavy and diminished.
He refused to absorb more chaotic energy to replenish His own depletion. He knew clearly that this path would eventually lead to loss of control, to becoming what He fought against.
"Horus, enough!" the Emperor roared. His voice was filled with exhaustion and pain, but even more so with a father's desperate plea. "If we don't turn back now, it will truly be too late."
He used His sword to support His body. Everything that had just transpired was a massive drain on Him. Golden ichor seeped through cracks in His armor, staining the void.
Horus's eyes were filled with nothing but anger and fanaticism. His form blazed with the combined power of the Four Gods.
"Turning back? I'm just one step away from becoming the true Dark King!" His voice was both a chaotic whisper and a roar. "You want ME to STOP? Have you gone MAD? I will become the ruler of the galaxy!!"
Horus grew increasingly frenzied in battle. His entire body burned with chaotic power as the Four Gods poured their strength into him, making his body even larger and his movements even faster. Each strike contained earth-shattering force.
The Emperor struggled to defend himself. Although each blow He threw shook the void, Horus's aura still overwhelmed Him. The power gap was widening with each passing moment.
The Emperor blocked Horus's next devastating attack, taking several steps back. His golden radiance flickered briefly, dimming like a sun entering eclipse.
He clenched His teeth. His eyes still held endless compassion, even as His body failed.
He reached out, trying to penetrate the Chaos within Horus's heart one final time.
"Horus, this is not freedom, this is shackles! You are merely being manipulated by greater powers! I do not want to destroy you... I do not want to destroy my son!"
"HA-HA-HA" Horus laughed loudly. The sound echoed across the battlefield, a chaotic aura sweeping in all directions like a shockwave of madness.
"AH-AH-HA-HA-HA-HIHI-HA-HA" His laughter was the sound of a god ascending beyond morality and mercy.
"Son? Gods have no fathers! The Dark King will represent supreme power!!"
He pounced, wielding psychic energy and the Talon in a devastating combination. The Emperor was left with almost nowhere to dodge, barely maintaining his defensive position.
As the battle progressed, the Emperor's movements became increasingly sluggish. His golden armor cracked. The chaotic darkness gradually eroded the radiance on His body.
Blood...actual blood, not just light...dripped from wounds that should have been impossible to inflict on a god.
He was still trying His best to reach Horus, to save the son he could not bear to lose.
"Do not let Chaos completely devour you... Return to the light, Horus! It is not too late!"
But his words fell on ears that no longer listened. Horus was gone, subsumed entirely into the will of the Four Gods, and what remained was only hunger and conquest.
[End of Chapter]
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