Chapter 74 I Can Negotiate Too! I Can Be Loyal Too! (Bonus)

When the Drukhari first spotted the Imperial warship, their eyes lit up with sheer, unadulterated excitement.

These mon-keigh actually dared to intrude on our turf?!

They were absolutely determined to make these foolish mon-keigh regret ever setting foot inside the Webway, eager to subject them to the most agonizing, unimaginable torments their Haemonculi could concoct.

Initially, the Drukhari swarmed like bats pouring out of a cave at dusk. They mounted a chaotic array of Raider and Venom transports, screaming toward the lone Imperial warship, desperate to secure the freshest slaves and the choicest cuts of meat before anyone else.

But as the rest of the Imperial expeditionary armada seamlessly translated into the Webway, dropping out of the fog in an endless, terrifying wall of adamantium and macro-cannons, the Drukhari frantically slammed on their anti-grav brakes.

The excitement on their faces instantly warped into horror, before settling into cold, paralyzing despair.

A fleet of this magnitude?! Is the Imperium trying to completely eradicate us?!

Before the Drukhari could even fully process the situation, the Imperial armada executed Vane’s kill order. They unleashed a relentless, sky-blackening volley of macro-cannon fire and torpedoes.

Ordnance the size of hab-blocks rained down upon the satellite realm. Towering pillars of fire erupted into the sky, tearing the spire-cities apart and shattering the very foundations of the realm. Apocalyptic shockwaves ripped through the air like a localized hurricane of devastation.

As the initial bombardment softened the targets, the fleet’s directed-energy weapons spun up. Blinding lances of coherent light and writhing streams of superheated plasma lanced down into the Dark City. Countless structures were instantly vaporized or set ablaze, the raging infernos illuminating the pitch-black, depraved metropolis.

The bizarre, razor-edged warships of the Drukhari and their mercenary xenos allies that were still anchored in the docks were immediately focus-fired by the Imperial Navy, detonating into expanding clouds of shrapnel. Some ships desperately tried to flee, but the ambush was simply too overwhelming, and all the exit vectors were completely blockaded. Even as their engines screamed in overdrive, they couldn’t punch through the Imperium’s suffocating kill-box. One by one, they were torn apart, their burning wreckage raining down upon the city below.

Vane didn’t immediately order a ground assault. Instead, he patiently directed the fleet to execute wave after wave of merciless, saturation orbital bombardment. He waited until the entire satellite realm was reduced to a singular, roaring sea of fire and the Drukhari were completely incapable of mounting any organized resistance before finally giving the order to deploy the ground forces to mop up the survivors.

Bright flashes of teleportation flares lit up the lower decks as squad after squad of Imperial forces translated to the surface.

Vane geared up, ready to head down himself.

“Forefather, you are the Supreme Commander! You need to stay here and command the battlefield!” Sanguinius pleaded, frantically trying to stop him.

“I don’t know anything about commanding! All I know is that I must kill!” Vane declared, casually pulling out some Obsidian and instantly assembling a Nether Portal like a magic trick.

The three Primarchs exchanged utterly exasperated looks.

What kind of Supreme Commander leads a planetary invasion from the front lines?!

Stepping through the portal, Vane materialized on an elevated platform jutting out from the Kabal of the Black Rose’s central spire.

The architecture of the Dark City was entirely built around the aesthetic of terror. Everything was pitch-black, twisted, and covered in jagged spikes and serrated edges. Countless enslaved creatures were suspended mid-air, bound by thick, barbed chains, moaning in endless agony.

“Yep, absolute psychos,” Vane muttered, scanning the gruesome decor and shaking his head at the sheer degeneracy of the Drukhari.

“Mon-keigh!” A Drukhari Hellion riding a bladed skyboard was the first to spot Vane. Eager to claim the intruder’s head and earn some quick glory, he revved his skyboard and charged, swinging a violently venomous glaive directly at Vane’s neck.

Vane didn’t even blink. He casually swung Bloodletter [Carnage]. The hyper-sharp blade effortlessly cleaved right through the Hellion’s poisoned glaive and continued seamlessly through his torso. The Hellion’s lower half, still strapped to the skyboard, kept flying forward purely on momentum until it splattered against a spiked pillar. His upper half plummeted from the sky, landing with a sickening thud just a few feet away from Vane.

Staring up at Vane, the bisected Hellion’s eyes were wide with utter disbelief.

How is this mon-keigh’s reaction time so fast?! What the hell is that sword?! How is it so sharp?!

Before Vane could even admire his handiwork, a swarm of elite enemies descended upon him. Several Incubus warriors dropped from the shadows, their massive Klaives raised high as they converged for the kill.

Vane casually tapped his Void Ring’s teleport function, instantly vanishing and leaving the Incubi to chop at empty air.

“Where did he go?” one of the Incubi muttered, completely bewildered. How did a massive, heavily armored human just vanish into thin air?!

“Right above you, idiots.”

The Incubi snapped their heads up in sheer terror. Before they could even attempt to disengage, a crimson arc of energy tore through them. In a fraction of a second, they were all bisected, their severed limbs and torsos raining down upon the platform in a bloody, grotesque shower.

“Is this really the best you’ve got? You dare challenge me with this pathetic display?” Vane laughed heartily, flicking the blood off his blade.

He absolutely loved this kind of brain-dead style hack-and-slash gameplay. Why would anyone ever choose a hardcore, gritty survival playthrough where every fight was a struggle? Let the masochists have their fun; he was strictly a power-fantasy player.

Just then, the Nether Portal flared to life again, and Sanguinius, the Lion, Yvraine, and her Ynnari elite poured through. Guilliman had remained aboard the Macragge’s Honour to oversee the theater-wide strategy. As the Primarch holding the authority of War, Guilliman’s command processing had evolved to an absolutely terrifying degree. He could simultaneously track every single Imperial unit, instantly formulate optimal tactical maneuvers, and micro-manage every single atmospheric fighter wing and ground assault squad in real-time.

“Adjust the fourth macro-cannon battery on the Crown of Hera by exactly one degree elevation, then commence bombardment.”

“Order the Macragge’s Honour to initiate orbital strikes on Sector A0. Maintain fire until there are zero biological life signs remaining.”

Meanwhile, on the ground, Sanguinius and the Lion rallied their vanguard forces and linked up with Vane.

“You kids really need to work on your deployment speed. Always showing up late to the party,” Vane complained, shaking his head.

Sanguinius and the Lion were completely speechless. Is it remotely possible that you’re just way too fast?!

“Whatever. We’re in the middle of a warzone, I won’t lecture you right now. Let’s wipe out the Kabal of the Black Rose,” Vane said, pointing his crimson blade toward the spire’s interior. “Kill them all! If they refuse to kneel before the Aquila, slaughter every last one of them!”

“At once, Forefather!”

The Lion and Sanguinius nodded and led their elite veterans directly into the spire. Backed by two literal gods and a host of hyper-lethal Astartes veterans, the Imperial assault completely steamrolled the Drukhari. It was like a hurricane sweeping away dead leaves. Any member of the Kabal of the Black Rose that dared show their face was instantly ripped to shreds, their mangled corpses violently painting the corridors red.

“I never imagined I would return to this cursed place in such a manner,” Yvraine murmured, watching the sprawling Dark City consumed by roaring flames.

Back when she first received the blessing of Ynnead and resurrected in the gladiator arenas of Commorragh, she had drawn the absolute, terrifying fury of Supreme Overlord Asdrubael Vect. He had dispatched an endless tide of elite assassins to hunt her down. Yet now, she was returning at the side of a massive human armada, fully intending to burn the Drukhari tumor out of the Webway permanently.

“Do not dwell on the past. The Old Era is coming to an end. We must ensure the Aeldari secure a place in the future,” Eldrad stated sagely.

“The Farseer speaks the truth. The Laughing God also supports our alliance with humanity. It is our only hope of defeating Chaos and walking toward a brighter tomorrow,” Sylandri Veilwalker added, joining the conversation.

“I don’t regret guiding the Imperium into the Webway. I am merely reflecting,” Yvraine replied, shaking her head. “I simply never imagined the Drukhari would meet their end like this.”

Eldrad’s face also softened with a touch of melancholy. “Destiny has been completely rewritten. I suspect that even the Chaos Gods couldn’t have foreseen humanity unearthing an ancestor of such terrifying, incomprehensible power. Come. Since we have chosen to sever our ties with our kin in Commorragh, let us finish the job. Only by fully severing the chains of the past can the Aeldari walk toward the future.”

—

Any Drukhari foolish enough to resist was systematically slaughtered by the forces led by the two Primarchs.

By the time Vane strolled into the Archon’s sanctum, Kh’miel and his surviving retinue had already been forced to their knees. The tortured human slaves had been cut down from their racks and were currently being treated by Astartes Apothecaries.

When Kh’miel spotted Yvraine and the Ynnari delegation following closely behind Vane, he immediately started screaming like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

“Yvraine! Yvraine, please! Help us! Beg the mon-keigh to spare us!”

“I can negotiate too! I can be loyal too!”

—

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