Chapter 133 Final Battle (1)

The endless tide of daemons converged into an ocean, swarming toward the city walls with terrifying shrieks.

From atop the magnificent walls, artillery fire rained down in a continuous saturation bombardment. Deafening explosions erupted one after another, generating shockwaves that flattened everything in their path.

Led by Greater Daemons, the daemonic horde crashed against the walls wave after wave, only to be repeatedly repelled, leaving the ground outside completely paved with corpses.

“Dorn, you couldn’t hold Terra ten thousand years ago, and you won’t hold the Pantheon today.”

Flanked by six-meter-tall Iron Circle automata, Perturabo strode to the very front of the battlefield, wielding his massive hammer. He locked eyes with Dorn and the other Primarchs standing on the battlements.

Just like during the Siege of Terra millennia ago, Dorn served as the supreme commander of the defensive line for the Pantheon of Mankind.

As for the forces of Chaos, after some internal politicking and power struggles, the Four Chaos Gods ultimately handed command to Perturabo, the champion of Chaos Undivided, rather than Abaddon the Despoiler.

The decision infuriated Abaddon so much that he outright refused to participate in the war.

“One day, I will return. When that time comes, both the Warp and realspace will bow to me.”

After dropping that threat, Abaddon took his honor guard, the daemon sword Drach’nyen, and his ally Vashtorr, and retreated deep into the Warp. He was determined to find power capable of rivaling both the Gods and the Imperium, so he could one day return as the undisputed Master.

Up on the wall, Dorn didn’t hesitate to fire back at Perturabo’s provocation.

“Without the Warp holding your hand, you are nothing, Perturabo.”

Things were very different from the Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago. Today, the human faction boasted the Master of Mankind, nine newly ascended Primarch Gods, Valdor elevated to the King in Yellow, and several C’tan pledged to the Imperium. They also had Cegorach, the Laughing God of the Aeldari, and the Squats, who had just signed a peace treaty and were happily supplying military hardware.

Compared to the Siege of Terra, the modern Imperium had so many trump cards they couldn’t even use them all. Honestly, Dorn felt like putting his hands on his hips and shouting, “With a hand like this, how could I possibly lose?!”

Meanwhile, on the Chaos side, Lorgar, Fulgrim, Angron, and Mortarion had all joined the battlefield alongside Perturabo.

Under orders from the Chaos Gods, each Daemon Primarch led their own army, launching an all-out assault on the Pantheon of Mankind, determined to crush their father’s hope and drag humanity into the abyss.

By the time Vane and the Emperor reached the battlefield, the defense of the Pantheon had already hit a fever pitch. Both armies were locked in an absolute meat grinder of a bloodbath. Every single second, massive numbers of heroic spirits and daemons were slaughtered, resurrected, and thrown right back into the fray.

“Final battle! Final battle! It’s the final battle everybody loves!”

Cheering wildly, Vane spammed his Void Ring, chain-teleporting straight into the warzone. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the vast battlefield, swinging his razor-sharp blade at a Bloodthirster of Khorne.

The Greater Daemon tried to block with its massive axe, but Vane’s strike cleaved cleanly through both the weapon and the daemon in an incredibly gory display.

“I haven’t even started trying, and you’re already dead?!”

“You guys are way too weak.”

After tossing out a quick taunt, Vane vanished with his Void Ring before the other daemons could even process what happened. He reappeared next to another Greater Daemon, decapitating it before it could react, then kicked the severed head into the distance.

“Is the Forefather always this happy when he fights?” Vulkan asked Jaghatai as they watched Vane tear through the battlefield from the top of the wall.

“Pretty much. He seems to really enjoy the rush of absolutely crushing his enemies.” Jaghatai nodded. “When I first saw the Forefather fight, I genuinely thought he was a Champion of Khorne.”

“Khorne giving the Forefather a blessing? Please, don’t make me laugh,” Sanguinius interjected. “If you told me the Forefather gave Khorne a blessing, I’d believe you. I mean, what kind of sane person treats killing gods as a casual hobby?”

“Killing gods? As a casual hobby?!” Jaghatai and Vulkan turned to Sanguinius, unable to comprehend how those concepts even fit in the same sentence.

“Well, it all started when Guilliman was resurrected…” Sanguinius recounted exactly what Vane had said when he saved their brother.

“Wait… so the divine authorities we absorbed were just loot the Forefather got from killing other gods?!” Vulkan’s eyes widened.

“Yep.” Sanguinius nodded. “When we found out, we had the exact same look on our faces.”

“Okay, yeah, it really should be the Forefather blessing Khorne,” Jaghatai agreed, validating Sanguinius’ earlier point. “Khorne doesn’t even qualify to bless the Forefather.”

On the far end of the battlefield, the Emperor stood off against the Four Chaos Gods.

Both sides had shifted into forms that best reflected their true nature.

The Emperor was clad in golden armor, wielding his flaming sword in one hand and a massive power claw in the other.

Tzeentch appeared as a robed scholar holding a staff and a tome, its face completely covered in blinking eyes that were guaranteed to trigger anyone’s trypophobia.

Khorne bore two massive horns and wore crimson armor. Inside its helmet, there was no face—only boiling blood and burning rage.

Nurgle manifested as a filthy, morbidly obese entity with deer antlers, its grotesque layers of rotting fat cascading over its stomach.

Slaanesh looked remarkably similar to an Aeldari—slender, impossibly curvy, and radiating an intoxicating, lethal sweetness.

“Join us, Anathema,” Tzeentch said to the Emperor. “Together, we can banish the Outer God.”

“Once it is done, humanity can rule realspace, and we will remain in our Warp, never crossing paths again.”

“Are you joking?” The Emperor glared at Tzeentch with absolute contempt.

When these bastards had teamed up to permanently cripple him on the Golden Throne, they certainly hadn’t offered a deal like this. Now that the tables had turned, they wanted to talk peace? What kind of pipe dream were they smoking?

Today, he was going to take on all four of them.

“With the Outer God’s help, your odds of winning are high. But think carefully—if we go to total war, we will lose, but humanity will be eternally damned alongside us.”

“The entire Warp will boil over, and uncontrollable Chaos energy will flood realspace, corrupting and twisting everything in existence.”

Slaanesh’s voice was incredibly sweet, subconsciously triggering an intense desire to possess the deity.

“Worst case scenario, we just sink the entire galaxy.”

Vane materialized next to the Emperor, staring down the Chaos Gods.

“Once all the stars are gone, I’ll figure out a way to just rebuild it from scratch.”

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