"You may want to shut your mouth."
Faced with Mortarion's insults, Horus's monstrous daemonic form flared with baleful fire. His voice scraped across the chamber like claws raking over iron.
If they had not been in the middle of a war, he would have taught that brother of his what reverence truly meant.
Still, Horus retained his reason and forced down the anger in his heart.
Staring at the Death Lord, he said slowly, "This setback does not affect the overall course of the war, my brother. What you need is more patience..."
What the Dark Emperor did not say aloud was that the plague elite led by Typhus had been bait from the very beginning.
He had toyed with the Imperial defenders, drawn their attention, and manipulated troop movements across the battlefield.
The real blow had remained hidden in the shadows and had already reached the core sector.
Of course, the defenders' assault had been so fierce that they swallowed the bait whole with lightning speed. That part had surprised him a little.
Horus knew Mortarion would swallow this bitter pill. He might even have wanted this to happen.
After all, Typhus had repeatedly defied his orders, currying favor before the Plague Lord and challenging the standing of that notoriously petty brother of his.
That brother had always been the kind who could not endure being slighted. If not for the Plague Lord's indulgence, or perhaps restraint, he likely would have already dealt with that rebellious son.
Horus saw all of this clearly. While directing the war, he had conveniently helped that brother solve a minor problem of his own.
He still held the reins of the battlefield.
"If you fail to break the Savior's defenses, I will settle this debt with you personally."
Mortarion was silent for a moment before finally speaking.
Just as Horus had expected, the Death Lord suppressed his fury and stopped pursuing the matter of Typhus's death.
But dissatisfaction still lingered in his tone. No being could lose an elite force and accept it easily.
Now the Chaos coalition's offensive had suffered a severe blow. It was not only the plague host. The other Chaos armies had also taken losses to varying degrees.
Their advance had stalled.
"One elite force has already broken into the core sector of this defensive platform. Once it secures the area, the surrounding zones can be sealed off."
At last, Horus revealed his arrangement. It was the pivot on which the war could still turn, a single point that could reshape the entire battlefield.
He looked at Mortarion, his tone beyond argument.
"All the foolish Custodians trying to reinforce that sector have already been tied down by Magnus and his sorcerers.
"Send another force. Have it support Alpharius's ghost troops and the World Eaters in taking the target zone.
"When that happens, this massive defensive platform will become isolated land - and fall completely into the hands of Chaos."
The Dark Emperor had seized every possible opening. He had deftly split enemies who outnumbered him several times over, pinned them in place, and left them unable to pull free.
Then he had drawn out elite Chaos forces and hurled them into the core of the Imperial line in a boarding assault, catching the enemy flat-footed and leaving them unable to send help back.
That was the terrifying part of his military brilliance. Every army under his command was being used to its fullest, each one moving precisely in the direction he had envisioned.
Not even an abominable intelligence array could calculate to this level.
If the Imperium had not concentrated nearly all its strength here, the Chaos host would already have swept through this line.
Mortarion glanced at Horus, then nodded. "In the name of the Grandfather, I will send another elite force."
Though the First Plague Company under Typhus had been annihilated, he still had other elite units under his command.
With the support of countless plague daemons, he retained at least seventy percent of his strength.
In truth, he had not wanted Typhus to die. But now that he was dead, there was nothing to be done.
All of it was for the great work of the Grandfather.
Perhaps without that defiant gene-son and glory-seeking rival getting in the way, his plague armies would fight even better.
Soon after, Mortarion dispatched his Fourth Plague Company. It was led by a greater Chaos daemon known as the Heart-Eater.
They carried a virus called the Eater's Blight, one capable of devouring flesh with horrifying cruelty.
The force also included many plague sorcerers and warp-born entities.
Mortarion believed that with the support of this elite force, the Chaos coalition would surely seize the plaza platform and, from there, take control of the entire region.
As Horus, that brother favored by all the gods, issued his commands, Mortarion could feel the great Plague Lord behind him - the Grandfather - slowly calming.
The fury was receding.
That merciful Plague Lord was watching this campaign as well, without the slightest slackening of attention.
And not just Him. The other Chaos Gods were watching too.
All of them were observing this siege of Terra, waiting to see whether it would succeed.
The future of Chaos depended on it.
Mortarion knew what kind of miserable fate awaited them if the fallen primarchs failed. They would become leaderless curs, abandoned and ruined.
No matter the cost, they had to win.
After the Fourth Plague Company vanished, teleporting into the target position, Mortarion, Horus, and many others waited in growing tension for word from the front.
They longed for good news.
At the same time, they concealed their own positions, lest Rogal Dorn and the other loyalists find them and worsen their disadvantage.
...
Sector Thirteen. Massive defensive platform. Central plaza district.
The ghost troops of the Serpent Lord, the fallen primarch Alpharius, together with the savage firepower of the World Eaters, had suppressed the isolated Imperial forces holding the line.
With support from other Chaos formations, they had gained the chance to storm this position, and they had done so with superior numbers.
Facing enemies several times their own strength, the Imperial soldiers had no choice but to fall back, hoping to stall for time until reinforcements arrived.
Instead, what came was even more Chaos.
The Heart-Eater, commander of the Fourth Plague Company, arrived with Death Guard elites and a vast horde of plague daemons.
Its body was covered in pustules lined with sharp teeth, spewing out vast swarms of viral matter that infected the warriors' wounds.
The wounds on the Imperial Space Marines visibly rotted. Their muscles withered. Fever, dizziness, and burning heat followed as their immune systems collapsed even further.
The flesh on their bodies was being devoured by disease, opening into ghastly holes that refused to heal.
Their fighting strength was crippled. The line buckled further, and they were forced to retreat deeper into the complex.
Worse still, they could retreat no more.
Behind them lay one of the core engine chambers.
"In the name of the Grandfather and the Death Lord, devour all flesh and seize this place!"
Wherever the Heart-Eater passed, even the corpses on the ground were consumed by invisible pathogens.
The battlefield was its plague kitchen. The Eater's Blight feasted gluttonously, granting more strength to the plague daemons.
It also made the daemon's already bloated body swell even larger, until even the heavy guns of Dreadnoughts could barely shake it.
This loathsome plague creature smashed through the line with a mountain of putrid flesh, stuffing an entire Dreadnought into its belly and digesting it into ruin.
It was terrifying.
Not only flesh, but even steel struggled to resist its horrific contagions and digestive acids.
And still, it was not satisfied.
"Imperial cowards, where do you think you can still run?" the Heart-Eater said, licking its tongue with obvious displeasure.
Most of the Imperial troops had abandoned the line rather than continue to hold it, which meant fewer bodies for its pet plagues to feast on.
After that, the Heart-Eater led its plague host onward, accompanied by the ghost troops and the World Eaters.
Malicious plagues and savage gunfire shadowed the retreating Imperials, hunting them with greedy delight.
But when the Heart-Eater and the others pushed deep into a massive platform, they suddenly halted.
The Imperial defenders had stopped retreating.
Apparently, they had something to rely on.
The towering statue of the Savior in the center of the platform, along with the statues of the living saints around it, gave the Chaos forces a deeply ominous feeling.
"This may be an Imperial trap," said the commander of the ghost troops, the flames flickering across his face.
He had taken enough losses fighting the Imperial garrison to become cautious.
"Coward. Are you afraid to fight?"
The World Eater commander's voice was thick with murderous rage. Slaughter had clearly driven him to the edge of losing control.
He roared and gave the order to continue the attack.
"Kill. Tear apart every human still moving. Drain the last of their blood!"
This devotee of Khorne led the rest of the World Eaters forward without a shred of hesitation.
"We must take the engine chamber in this sector, whatever the cost."
The Heart-Eater swallowed another heart and issued the reminder in a grave tone.
Neither the great Grandfather nor the Death Lord could tolerate the stalemate any longer.
They desperately needed progress to offset what had already been lost.
More importantly, this chance for a surprise strike had been hard won and fleeting. If they let it slip away, the entire war would suffer for it.
At that moment, the flames on the ghost commander's face twisted into a look of terror, as though he had just received a severe warning from some unseen force.
Very quickly, they reached an agreement and followed the World Eaters in one final assault on the sector.
But halfway through their charge, the Heart-Eater and the others suddenly saw the Savior's statue and the surrounding statues begin to tremble.
Panic rippled through the Chaos ranks. They feared it was some kind of massive war machine, or perhaps the descent of another new power.
"There is no need to fear. The Savior's statues cannot move. Besides, the gods have already established a new blockade. His power cannot spread here again."
The Heart-Eater was clearly experienced. It knew of the incident at the Martian blockade line, where the Savior's blessings had manifested.
It understood more about the Savior's statues than most. As long as no one attacked them first, the statues' retaliation systems would not activate.
Its words calmed the Chaos forces somewhat.
The Savior's statues were only trembling for the moment, and no divine power had erupted from them yet. It should be fine.
Boom.
Before they could even finish feeling relieved, the hundred-meter-tall statue of the Savior suddenly stood up and crushed several unlucky World Eaters beneath one foot.
???
The Chaos forces were stunned.
Hadn't they just said the Savior's statues could not move? Then why had one suddenly stood up?
And it was not only the Savior's statue. The statues of the living saints had begun to move as well, attacking the Chaos troops around them, each blow crushing large numbers of warp-spawn and traitors.
Even worse, psychic force began to pour from those massive statues. Fire and arcs of lightning swept across the battlefield, scything down entire formations.
"This is bad. It's a vicious trap..."
The Heart-Eater had gone numb.
How deranged was the Savior, to stuff Emperor-class psychic Titans inside his own statues?
In truth, it was not a trap at all. The Imperial defenders really had been caught off guard by the assault and had been forced to activate the sector's standard defensive assets.
The Savior's statues came in different classes. The ones at the Wall of Alat had only been ceremonial sightseeing models. The ones in this vital district were guardian models, capable of autonomous movement and offensive action against invaders.
And because of the Savior's supreme status, these statue-based psychic Titans were built with the highest level of technology available. Most of the time, they simply stood here as sacred landmarks, with little need to deploy them to any other battlefield.
That alone said a great deal about the wealth of the New Imperium - or perhaps how completely its forge divisions had immersed themselves in their own holy art of creation.
"Grandfather above!"
The Chaos creatures could not comprehend the thought process behind the New Imperium. The shock dealt to them was immense.
Faced with these terrifying Emperor-class war engines and the other psychic Titans, they fell into utter despair.
Including the Emperor-class psychic Titan, there were thirteen high-order Titan war machines in total.
How were they supposed to fight that? With their bodies? Against an Emperor-class psychic Titan?
"For the Savior!"
Seeing the battle turn around, the Imperial defenders in this sector charged back into the fray with wild excitement.
The warriors of the Redemption Chapters, in particular, trembled with fervor as they slaughtered daemons and heretic traitors.
Fighting alongside the New Imperium felt unbelievably good.
Never before had they fought such a perfect battle.
With minimal losses, they had annihilated large numbers of Chaos troops.
Loyalty.
...
Chaos war-shrine.
Horus was already breaking into a cold sweat upon his throne.
He had done everything he could. He had even committed forces several times larger in an attack on that core battlefield.
And still, they had failed.
The defensive strength guarding that core sector had exceeded expectations.
Worse, once the Custodians broke free of their restraints, he could no longer keep sending support into the area.
That triggered a chain reaction.
The surprise assault could no longer continue.
The war fell back into stalemate, and Chaos was beginning to slip to the weaker side.
At that moment, Mortarion's projection appeared. He was clearly furious and had come looking to settle accounts.
The phantasmal forms of the other fallen primarchs appeared one after another as well, fixing Horus with eyes full of doubt.
A challenge to the Dark Emperor's authority was about to begin.
Horus did not falter.
He did not sink into frustration, nor did he rage.
He calmed himself almost at once.
As one of humanity's greatest commanders, he knew anger and complaints solved nothing.
Looking at the fallen primarchs, he spoke first.
"My brothers, look at yourselves. Fearful. Hesitant. Uneasy. Are you already searching for excuses to shove off your failures onto someone else?
"If a momentary setback is enough to break your spirit, then that is nothing but the excuse of the incompetent."
Horus seized the initiative and took control of the room.
"The war is not over.
"The truly strong never complain that circumstances are against them. I was born for war. I am meant to rule the battlefield.
"Of that, there is no doubt."
The Dark Emperor was utterly confident, yet Mortarion and the others fell silent instead of arguing.
They had campaigned beside that brother countless times. They knew this was not arrogance.
It was simply the truth.
From the Great Crusade to the Siege of Terra, Horus - that brother beloved by the gods - had reversed hopeless situations again and again.
They had exterminated countless heretics and xenos, defeated endless enemies, including their former brothers and the armies commanded by the false Emperor.
They had even broken into the Imperial Palace itself and launched an assault on the Throne.
Back then, Horus had faced campaigns far more difficult than this one, and he had still emerged victorious.
Before the final outcome had been decided, no one dared claim that Horus would be defeated here.
At the very least, Mortarion believed the obstacles before them were only temporary. The Savior and the loyal primarchs on Terra would not be able to defeat a Horus backed by the Chaos Gods.
They still had more methods to employ, and more reserves yet to commit.
"My brothers, it is true that we failed to break the line," Horus said, looking at them all. "But we have also gained the opportunity to reinforce.
"From here on, we will no longer suffer such a severe disadvantage in numbers. That is when the real offensive begins."
Although the earlier surprise strike had failed, they had still managed to establish Chaos ritual circles across several zones, securing footholds where they could station troops.
That counted as a kind of gain.
And the Chaos Gods had accepted Horus's request for reinforcements, gritting their teeth as they poured even more armies into the war.
Much of that strength had been pulled directly from the battlefield in the Realm of Chaos.
Of course, forcing such an enormous number of troops into the material galaxy on short notice was ruinously expensive. Worse, it was a one-way investment with no return, a pure losing trade.
Because of that, even the war in the highest heavens had fallen quiet. The losses were so painful that fighting there had temporarily ceased.
But there was no helping it.
They had no choice but to agree to the Dark Emperor's request. No matter how difficult it was, they had to give him the strength he needed to win this war.
The Chaos Gods had already been pushed into a corner by Horus.
They could not bear the cost of failure - especially after recalling the terrifying gaze of the shadow of the Dark King from before.
So they doubled down.
They pushed in more.
They went all in and emptied the coffin money.
"War is not won through resources and numbers alone," Horus said. "It also demands strategy and command.
"Right now, the commander of Terra's defenses is Rogal Dorn. You all know his capabilities. He is still lacking if he thinks he can match me..."
He returned to his throne and stared coldly at the fallen primarchs.
"My brothers, the general offensive has already begun.
"I will show that so-called master of Terra's defenses what the art of war truly is."
(End of Chapter)
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