Chapter Fifteen: The Great Daemon of Khorne

A towering demon stood behind Abaddon, its fearsome appearance marking it as a mighty daemon of Khorne. Wang Ming patted Fulgrim on the shoulder and gestured toward Abaddon. Fulgrim recognized him—once a captain in Horus’s own company during the era of the Sons of Horus.

With a thunderous roar, the Khorne daemon behind Abaddon charged at Wang Ming. The first to greet it, however, were the traversers, their bolters unleashing a hail of rounds that, though largely ineffective, managed to slow the beast’s advance. At that moment, a berserker traverser, wielding twin swords, bellowed, “For the Emperor!” and rushed headlong at the daemon.

His power swords sliced through the air, their disintegration fields dissolving snowflakes mid-flight before biting into the daemon’s hide, leaving a wound. Although the blow failed to inflict serious harm, it did succeed in infuriating the great beast.

With blinding speed, the daemon swung its massive axe at the berserker traverser, but the warrior, with Astartes reflexes, raised his swords to catch the blow and, using the force of the attack, pushed the daemon aside, causing its strike to miss. Though the traversers lacked formal combat training, death had taught them practical survival tactics, and this berserker had charged into Chaos lines more than once, always cutting down a few before being gunned down in turn.

Having deflected the attack, the berserker traverser crossed his swords and hacked at the daemon, scoring twin marks across its body. Daemonic blood sprayed through the air as he wielded his swords like cleavers, his arms a blur, relentlessly assailing the monster.

Yet the daemon was not a passive victim. With a mighty swing, it struck the berserker traverser, sending him spinning through the air until he crashed against a massive boulder, his fate uncertain.

A deafening explosion resounded. In the chaos, a Syrian player-traverser had crept unnoticed to the daemon’s side and detonated the explosives strapped to his body, blasting one of the daemon’s arms clean off.

The daemon was now in a frenzy. Summoned by Abaddon to slay the Primarchs, it had instead been grievously wounded by two mere Astartes. Driven to utter madness by shame and rage, it charged at Wang Ming and Fulgrim, vowing to wash away its humiliation with the blood of gene-forged demigods.

Traversers who stood in its path were swatted aside with ease; even their bolter fire could no longer slow its advance.

Abaddon watched the daemon rampage through the ranks of traversers, the corners of his mouth curling upward. His surprise attack was proceeding exactly as he had planned. He and his veteran followers moved in the daemon’s wake, rushing toward Wang Ming and Fulgrim. The two traversers’ audacious wounding of the Khorne daemon had caught Abaddon off guard—he had not expected such a blow.

After scattering countless traversers, the daemon finally confronted Wang Ming and Fulgrim. Abaddon, grinning from ear to ear, gripped his accursed blade, prepared to sever the head of the Primarch, wounded by the daemon’s onslaught.

Abaddon’s plan was simple: let the Khorne daemon break the Imperial lines and cripple the Primarch, then step in with the daemon sword “Draconian” to finish the kill himself. He was certain his strategy was flawless.

But at that moment, the daemon unexpectedly changed course, ignoring Wang Ming and Fulgrim entirely. Instead, it barreled toward a traverser who was reciting the “Imperial Catechism.” To the demon, this was the utmost provocation.

“Hader Tohuti! Where are you going? Come back here!” Abaddon shouted in alarm, calling out the daemon’s true name. But even this did not stop the daemon’s rampage. In fact, hearing its true name sapped its power, and within moments, dozens of traversers had tackled it to the ground, delivering a brutal beating.

Abaddon and his veterans, bereft of the daemon that had led their charge, now found themselves facing two Primarchs and the Custodes, their faces pale with dread.