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With each successive Exterminatus order issued, the entire Solomon System was laid to waste.
Over a dozen planets were destroyed by the Expeditionary Fleet.
The star at the system’s center was ignited, then consumed into nothing.
The banner of the glorious Emperor was planted across this desecrated system.
“Congratulations, great Primarch.” “You have led our Legion to victory!
My lord Primarch!” Unlike Chapter Master Rockefeller, who was overcome with excitement, Lorgar remained deep in thought.
Lorgar looked toward Rockefeller and spoke slowly.
“This is nothing more than an insignificant victory, Rockefeller.” “Among the countless stars there are endless enemies of the Emperor and of Mankind.
What we must do is exterminate every last one of them from this world.” Lorgar’s words landed, and the assembled Word Bearers officers standing at his side erupted with excitement — a profound and overwhelming thrill at following a Primarch so powerful, so commanding, so utterly worth serving.
“My lord, what is our next mission!” William Therath, Chapter Master of the 3rd Chapter, asked, barely able to contain himself.
“Replenish ammunition.
Regroup the fleet.
Then press on.” Lorgar turned and answered with a smile.
“Guilliman is here, Lord of the Legion.” At that moment, a Primarch’s shuttle from the Macragge’s Honour arrived once again aboard the Fidelitas Lex — though this time, it came bearing good news.
“Lorgar.” A smile that could not quite be suppressed broke across Guilliman’s composed face.
Seeing Lorgar personally waiting in the hangar to receive the visit only deepened it.
This Primarch-brother was more normal than the others, by more than just a little.
Whether in attitude toward fellow brothers, in conduct and bearing, or in Legion combat style.
Not the sort to blow enemies into fragments with a heap of bizarre contraptions.
Not the sort to stand like a stone and ignore everyone day after day.
Not the sort to verbally abuse fellow brothers at every turn.
And not the sort to charge around everywhere like a dog dragging a pack of pups into every collision.
This brother was so approachable.
So…
human?
There was a certain obsessiveness when it came to dealing with heretics and xenos, sure.
But in every other respect, the normalcy was remarkable.
In truth, Lorgar had his own calculations.
No bullshit system.
No overwhelmingly godlike combat power.
The only thing to be done was to guard the Emperor at all costs.
The Emperor accounted for roughly 60 percent of the Imperium of Mankind’s total combat strength.
Space Marines, the Astra Militarum, PDF, Titans, all of that combined barely scraped 40 percent.
The Emperor was the core of the Imperium.
Lorgar had to ensure that every conquered planet believed, that every world’s faith poured into the Emperor until his power grew great enough to contend with the Four Powers.
That was the plan.
As for uniting Humanity and letting Mankind protect itself, that mattered too.
But the critical problem was that the fucking Warhammer world genuinely had gods.
Prayer genuinely granted divine power.
Science alone was not going to cut it.
The scientific front had essentially been locked down by the Void Dragon.
The Necrons were practically made into clowns in the face of the Void Dragon.
Science had its uses, but this was not the time to pursue it.
Without faith, even the most powerful war machine would be corrupted by Chaos.
Even the most powerful augmented soldiers would fall.
What Lorgar could do was consolidate the faith of every system the Legion had occupied and make them the vanguard against Chaos.
To summarize: unity through faith.
Prevention of corruption and damnation.
Let the Four Powers of the Warp and every enemy of Mankind be made to answer.
…
“Guilliman, I have a request.” Lorgar looked at Guilliman standing before him.
“What is it, Lorgar?” “Let’s settle it one-on-one.
Just you and me.” Guilliman:…
After a brief consideration, Guilliman agreed.
The venue was set within the Legion Dueling Grounds of the Word Bearers Legion’s Gloriana-class Battleship, the Fidelitas Lex.
Both sides shed their weapons, each taking up a longsword and a shield, and took their places at the center of the dueling ground.
Chapter Master Rockefeller served as referee, though of course the role was largely ceremonial.
A Primarch’s speed exceeded nanoseconds, and virtually none of the Space Marines present could follow the movements clearly.
“Come then, my brother.” Lorgar looked at Guilliman with barely contained eagerness.
To Lorgar, every battle was a step forward, and sparring with a brother offered far more to learn than any low-stakes engagement ever could.
Roboute Guilliman adjusted the straps of a vambrace, the edge of the Macragge-pattern Round Shield gleaming with precise geometric patterns.
“Are you certain you wish to continue, Lorgar?” “Are you not afraid I’ll knock you out of this dueling ground and embarrass you in front of your Legion?” Even as the words left Guilliman’s mouth, a combat stance had already been assumed, every element of its posture a textbook illustration straight out of the Macragge Military Manual, each angle conforming to the optimal mechanical solution.
“Come!” The first exchange opened amid the hum of Power Short Swords.
Guilliman’s thrust drove precisely toward the visual blind spot above the upper rim of Lorgar’s shield and was knocked aside by the shield’s base suddenly snapping upward.
Lorgar’s parry carried the spinning quality of a ritual dance.
The sword’s tip traced a silver arc through the gap in the defense, nearly grazing the Ultramarines Primarch’s gorget.
“Your sword is speaking.” Guilliman stepped back half a pace and reorganized, the Power Armour’s servo-systems emitting a faint sound of adjustment.
“It tells me every time where the next attack will come from.” “Then I hope you’re reading it carefully.” Lorgar raised a sword and charged again.
Guilliman swiftly raised a shield.
In the instant of the clash, both raised their shields at almost the same moment, and the thunderous crash of shield against shield rang out through the dueling ground.
Guilliman was caught off guard and pulled back to open distance.
“Notice something?” Lorgar murmured in the brief interval between exchanges, the blade scraping along Guilliman’s shield rim and throwing sparks.
“You’re calculating the angle of my strikes.
I’m reading your combat intent.” Guilliman answered with three consecutive thrusts — the classic combination of the Macragge Sabre Technique.
The third stroke was cleverly deflected by the inner face of Lorgar’s shield, forcing Guilliman back two steps.
But the short sword swung out again immediately after.
The battle entered a new phase.
Guilliman began adjusting tactics, processing Lorgar’s combat patterns like a computer running simultaneous calculations.
At the 15th second, Guilliman successfully anticipated Lorgar’s Prayer-form Rush.
The shield strike landed precisely on Lorgar’s chest armor.
But the Word Bearers Primarch used the impact force to spin, then opened distance to seek an opening.
“Remarkable adaptability.” Lorgar laughed between breaths, a genuine smile crossing his face for the first time.
“You’re absorbing my fighting methods into your own tactical framework.” Guilliman did not answer.
Every faculty was fully immersed in the calculations of attack and defense.
In truth, Lorgar was thinking too.
Guilliman was genuinely powerful, at least marginally superior in swordsmanship.
The product of decades of warfare during the Great Crusade, a combat intensity that Colchis simply could not compare to.
“Come.” The two Primarchs reached an unspoken understanding.
Almost simultaneously, both determined that the next blow would decide it.
Both charged at once.
The collision of shields rang out like two warships striking each other.
Guilliman’s sword drove straight for Lorgar’s throat.
The Word Bearers Primarch’s sword tip closed on Guilliman’s heart.
The outcome was decided in the next second, both sides touching the other’s vital point at almost the same instant.
BOOM!
Rockefeller struck the great bell, signaling the end.
The contest between Primarchs was settled within 30 seconds of its opening.
➤ Next: The Imperial Auxilia