Fulgrim stepped onto the temple stairs.
Behind him, thousands of Emperor's Children Astartes filed in.
The purple tide washed over the temple gates, flooding into the final sanctum of the Laer civilization.
Paul led the Iron Hands players in the middle of the formation.
Vespasian and Tarvitz walked by his side; the eyes of all three men met in the air for a fleeting second before shifting away.
No one spoke.
But they all knew exactly what was about to happen.
The interior of the temple was far more magnificent than its exterior.
The hundred-meter-high dome was intricately engraved with the history of the Laer.
Those complex reliefs told the story of this civilization's origin, development, glory, and... its ultimate despair.
Two rows of massive pillars stretched as far as the eye could see.
Each pillar was embedded with crystals radiating a pale purple light, bathing the entire temple in a bizarre yet holy atmosphere.
"Purge all remnants."
Fulgrim's voice echoed through the cavernous hall.
The Emperor's Children moved on command.
The purple silhouettes surged deeper into the temple like a tidal wave. The roar of bolters echoed from every direction, mixed with the dying screeches of the Laer.
The remaining Laer warriors were indeed still resisting.
They charged out from behind pillars, from beneath altars, and from every conceivable shadow. Wielding power swords and plasma gauntlets with their four arms, they let out their final, desperate roars.
But against a thousand Astartes, their resistance was like smashing eggs against a rock.
A Laer warrior had barely sprinted out from behind a pillar before his head was simultaneously struck by three bolter rounds. Green plasma exploded outward, and his headless corpse stumbled two steps forward before crashing heavily to the stone floor.
A squad of five Laer warriors attempted a flanking maneuver.
But waiting for them was a pre-established heavy bolter position; the dense hail of fire shredded them into pieces.
Those Laer snipers hiding in elevated positions were flushed out by the psychic fire of the Librarians, screaming as they plummeted from crossbeams dozens of meters high and smashed into bloody pulp.
The fiercest resistance took place in the sacrificial plaza deep within the temple.
Over three hundred Laer warriors, including their final twelve high priests, formed their last line of defense.
They stood in a circular formation, protecting the altar in the center, the hum of their charging energy weapons blending into a single continuous whine.
The leading priest was the exact same one who had been hiding in the temple depths earlier.
Right now, his aged face was a mask of absolute resolve. Raising his ceremonial staff high, he shrieked in the Laer tongue.
"For our children! For Laeran!!! Slaughter these human demons!!!"
A hundred elites of the Emperor's Children First Company launched a frontal assault under Kaesoron's command.
Purple silhouettes clashed against the Laer defensive line. Bolters exchanged fire, power swords crossed.
The roar of clashing metal and the tearing of flesh merged into a symphony of death.
Three minutes later, the very last Laer priest fell on the steps of the altar.
His eyes remained wide open, staring up at the dome, as if looking at something invisible.
That was where the gods of their faith were supposed to be.
But the gods never descended.
The Laer civilization was completely and utterly annihilated.
The Imperium of Man had achieved victory once again.
When the corpse of the final Laer collapsed in a pool of blood...
When the warriors of the Emperor's Children sheathed their blood-stained weapons, and the entire temple was left with nothing but the heavy breathing of the human victors...
The Laer civilization, a xenos species that had survived in this sector for 6,666 years, was entirely... destroyed.
An Emperor's Children warrior holding a massive purple aquila banner marched briskly toward the highest point of the temple dome.
He viciously drove the standard, embroidered with the insignia of the Emperor's Children, straight into the architecture.
The purple twin-headed eagle banner snapped violently in the gunsmoke-filled wind.
Down in the plaza, tens of thousands of Imperial soldiers erupted into earth-shattering cheers simultaneously.
"For the Imperium!! For the Emperor's Children!!! For Fulgrim!!! Long live humanity!!!"
The soundwave was like a tsunami, sweeping across the entire ruins.
That banner fluttered wildly in the winds of Laeran, the twin-headed eagle emblem shining brilliantly in the sunlight.
Above the ruins, above the plaza, above the entire city, this Imperial flag became the sole master.
The corpses of the Laer, the bombed-out buildings, the burning rubble—all of it bowed to this banner.
Fulgrim stood in the plaza in front of the temple, looking up at the flag.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled into a smile.
A smile filled with satisfaction and absolute pride.
"Warriors! Twenty-four days! In twenty-four days, we have completely ended this xenos civilization that dared to reject the glory of the Imperium! They possessed bio-augmentation technology far more advanced than ours, and an army far larger than ours... But what was the result?"
Fulgrim raised his hand, pointing at the Imperial eagle flag fluttering in the wind.
"The result proves that only humanity is perfect! Only humanity is worthy of the glory of ruling the galaxy! Any xenos, any civilization that dares to challenge humanity's absolute supremacy..."
He slowly drew the Fireblade from his waist, the litanies on the blade gleaming in the setting sun.
"...Is only worthy of one outcome! And that is..."
In the plaza, tens of thousands of Imperial soldiers roared in unison.
"Extermination!!! Extermination!!! Extermination!!!"
The soundwave shook the ground, making the very ruins tremble.
Fulgrim spread his arms wide, his purple cape snapping in the wind, his long white hair flowing behind him.
His flawless face burned with ultimate fanaticism.
"Long live humanity! Long live the Imperium! Long live the Emperor!"
The roar of hundreds of thousands sent those twelve words soaring into the skies of Laeran.
--
Vance stood in the Imperial Auxilia formation, looking at the purple silhouette and listening to the tsunami of cheers.
He opened his system interface and glanced at the quest progress.
[Faction Quest: The Perfect Sons of the Phoenix - The Beginning of the Fall]
[Current Progress: 48%]
The Chaos faction was at 62%.
He took a deep breath and closed the interface.
--
The cheers gradually subsided.
Fulgrim turned around, his gaze piercing through the dense crowds and settling on the depths of the temple radiating that pale purple light.
"Gentlemen. Come with me."
His voice was calm, yet filled with unquestionable authority.
Fulgrim was the first to step into the temple's depths.
Eidolon and Kaesoron followed closely behind.
Vespasian and Tarvitz exchanged a glance before following as well.
Paul and his Iron Hands silently merged into the procession.
The group passed through the grand hall, winding through corridors and walking past the murals detailing the history of the Laer.
Those murals recorded the origin, development, and glory of this civilization...
And its ultimate destruction.
Finally, they reached the absolute deepest part of the temple.
It was a massive circular chamber with a dome towering hundreds of meters high. The surrounding walls were embedded with countless crystals radiating a pale purple light.
In the exact center of the chamber sat an altar constructed from black crystal.
Resting quietly on the altar was a sword.
It was a single-edged curved blade, roughly 1.2 meters long, possessing a bizarre, sweeping, curved beauty.
The blade rippled with a luster that did not belong to the material world.
It was a pink-purple light carrying a strange, demonic allure, as if the very concept of perfection had been forged into a physical entity.
The hilt was inlaid with three fist-sized gemstones, each one pulsating like the heart of a living creature.
The entire chamber was bathed in the light of this sword.
Fulgrim's breathing hitched for a fraction of a second the moment he laid eyes on the blade.
His pupils contracted slightly. Within his violet eyes, a trace of... greed... that even he himself had not noticed began to surface.
"This is... The Blade of the Laer. The perfect sword."
His voice had gone completely hoarse.
Fulgrim stood quietly before the altar, staring silently at the sword.
Deep within his pupils, that imperceptible glint of light was rapidly spreading.
Vespasian's heart skipped a heavy beat.
He stared at the sword. He looked at the bizarre light swirling around it and the way it floated in midair...
He abruptly remembered the dream he'd had last night.
That purple silhouette, that sword radiating an ominous glow, his own head impaled on a golden spike...
It was exactly the same.
He instinctively looked over at Tarvitz.
Tarvitz's face was equally pale. His grey-blue eyes were glued to the sword, a complex mix of emotions burning deep within his pupils...
Fear, hyper-vigilance, and a trace of... indescribable sorrow.
He had recognized it too.
This was the sword from the dream.