The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Accompanying these whispers was a sensation from his body; where Huron's flesh met his armor was a permanent wound. Even worse, phantom pains still plagued him, despite the problematic limbs having long vanished and been replaced entirely by prosthetics.

A small number would collapse under the endless agony or seek increasingly desperate bargains to alleviate it. Huron knew well that some devotees of Nurgle felt no pain, that those of Slaanesh considered it ecstasy and used it to push themselves to new heights, that followers of Khorne drew strength from it in the form of rage, and that those of Tzeentch could alter their bodies to eliminate the pain entirely.

The emergence of these sensations was a temptation, or rather, a trap, hinting that all he needed to do was perform some correct ritual, or simply entertain a thought of self-abandonment…

However, Huron was not a puppet of the gods. He would not allow his pain and failures to drive him into a deal he would regret. So, even as the warp attempted to torment him in this way, he would retain it, for it was a part of him. Even as those past memories constantly haunted his mind like specters, he would continue to accept them, examine them, even if it brought spiritual agony.

But without them, he might forget who he was.

[Why do you resist so much, Huron? Why limit yourself?]

The whispers faded, becoming a deeper, more shadowy echo, audible only to him.

[Don't you want to reclaim your victory?]

Huron's gaze remained unchanged. He waved his hand, addressing the communications officer:

“Tell all captains, this battle is over. We are leaving Angstrom. The Imperials will not have the strength to pursue us. We will launch new offensives in new directions.”

As soon as these words were spoken, murmurs of unease and doubt began to spread in the darkness of the bridge, as the various Chaos Lords whispered amongst themselves.

Huron’s pet hamaadryad began to chatter softly at his feet, warning him. He was already keenly aware of the danger. In the past, no one had dared to challenge his authority, and he didn't believe they had the courage to do so now.

But what about now? Now that they believed he had suffered a tremendous defeat?

Undoubtedly, they lacked a reason to be loyal. Some of them were even now plotting to gain as much power and influence as possible through trickery, bribery, and simple murder. They might not show it in the short term, but once the seeds of ambition sprouted, they were destined to take root.

Huron warned himself deep down that, after this battle, he was walking in a nest of vipers and had to tread carefully.

He had been walking on thin ice for centuries in his life and would not fail now.

[I can help you, otherwise you will surely fail.]

The voice in his head transformed into the booming voice he had possessed when he still served the Imperium, even carrying that sense of righteousness he so despised.

The same sweet words, the same temptations, the same threats, had played out countless times since he broke away from the Imperium.

The forces of Chaos had few options to corrupt a Space Marine, because Space Marines desired so little. Huron had no carnal desires, nor did he enjoy pleasure. He also had little craving for material wealth. All he needed was an army of size, fortified strongholds, and a massive fleet.

The only thing Huron craved, the only thing he truly desired—was power.

That was the only bait that could lure him, and that was how the warp set the hook time and time again.

[You are growing weak. Your subordinates will slip away from you. They will openly betray you, and I can make you stronger.]

Huron chuckled, his first response.

[That sounds nice, but can you warp-spawn deal with that Soloshian? If you really could, why are the servants of the gods beaten every time? Don't think I don't know, he has ways to counter the warp, ways you simply can't handle]

The voice quieted down, before speaking after a long while.

[This is an exception, that is the game of the Gods--]

[Enough, just say you can't do it. Even demons are so long-winded, where do you get the face to talk about power with me? Good thing I never trusted you, or I’d be disgraced!]

The voice fell silent. Huron was unsure what had approached him this time. Usually, it was some useless demon trying to fish in troubled waters, and Huron was not so foolish. If he were to make a deal, it would be with the top four, not these small fry.

Of course, it was also possible that the other party did have some strength. Not all beings in the warp were servants of the four gods. As far as Huron knew, there were some unique individuals, but they were not on his list of potential partners for the time being.

As for whether he would make an enemy, it was hard to say. Generally, once a warp entity could neither seduce nor destroy you, it would lose patience in dealing with mortals.

Perhaps it had left a mark on him in some way, perhaps, when his soul was finally offered to the warp, this entity would seek out its piece for a little revenge.

But that was not worth worrying about. Huron had long accepted the price he might have to pay in the future.

“Blackheart, are we just retreating like this?”

A voice caused Huron to turn his head, and after discovering it was his champion, Kata Galaxis, he shook his head.

“There's no point in fighting any further. Our goal isn't to bleed dry on Angstrom. If Soshyan can have one reinforcement, he can have a second. We cannot engage in a decisive battle on a battlefield chosen by the enemy. Badab's Honsou is still holding out. We can withdraw for repairs and then try to open up the situation in other directions. Let Soshyan be smug for a while.”

As he said this, Huron recalled some intelligence provided by his intelligence officer, and a smile crept onto his lips.

“Soshyan has plenty of trouble coming his way.”

“Blackheart!”

Suddenly, an attendant hurried over, clutching a data-slate in his hand.

“Urgent intelligence from Judas.”

Huron frowned as he took the data-slate. As soon as he glanced at it, he swayed, clutching his chest.

“Blackheart!?”

Shoving the attendant aside, Huron, almost vomiting blood from rage, slammed the data-slate onto the ground.

“Bastards! Those Midnight Lord bastards!!!!”

Just as Huron was hurriedly gathering his fleet to cut his losses, Soshyan also issued an order to cease operations.

The Blessing Bulwark had suffered severe intrusion damage and was now essentially incapable of moving or fighting. The Victory's Mark was not just a star fort, but also the temporary home for several ship-based chapters of the Suffering Alliance, housing their precious gene-seed. As the temporary leader of the alliance, Soshyan could not risk the assets of others. Furthermore, the Imperial fleet had not achieved an overwhelming advantage in the engagement with the Red Corsairs.

Unless Huron himself was standing before Soshyan, the outcome remained uncertain.

What had been gained today was already enough. He was not a greedy man. The overall objective of the Angstrom operation was to deplete Huron's strength, to drag his main force here, and to defend this crucial forge world. He had not expected to annihilate Huron here, nor was he willing to risk the lives of more warriors for that possibility.

Taking an inch could sometimes backfire after gaining a mile.