stjorthotic Chapter 778 - 777: Horus: That’s Slander! Who Says I Can’t Do It? Who Says I Can’t?!
Chapter 778 - 777: Horus: That’s Slander! Who Says I Can’t Do It? Who Says I Can’t?!
"Rogal Dorn."Horus looked down at the virtual projection beneath his throne and spoke the name with utter contempt.
"Horus Lupercal, shameful traitor of mankind, defeated loser of ten thousand years ago. Still alive, are you?"
At some point, Rogal Dorn's virtual image appeared within the Chaos temple in an unnatural form.
Arms folded across his chest, he swept his gaze across Mortarion and the other primarchs still present in the hall before finally stopping on Horus, the Dark Emperor seated high upon the throne.
The fallen primarchs all fell silent, watching the confrontation between the two.
One was the commander of the Chaos coalition.
The other was the supreme defender of Terra.
The collision between them would affect the entire course of the war.
Of course, in the minds of the Chaos beings, Horus and Dorn were not equals. One sat upon the throne. The other could only stand before it.
To them, the only one who truly represented the Imperium was the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium.
Unfortunately for the Imperium, that being had been careless enough to let the Chaos Gods toy with him. He had long since been removed from the board.
Now only Rogal Dorn remained, struggling alone on Terra.
In truth, if not for the weapons and troops that man had left behind, the so-called Lord of Iron Bulwarks would have fallen long ago.
He would never have had the chance to stand here at all.
"My poor brother. Faithful hound of the false Emperor. So... you finally dare stand before me?"
Horus adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, propping up his chin with one hand as he addressed Dorn. Terrifying pressure spread out from him and bore straight down upon his brother.
His aura was astonishing.
Even while enduring the crushing burden of command, the Dark Emperor still maintained a posture of overwhelming strength.
He had the confidence of one who believed all things lay within his grasp, let alone when facing the Lord of Iron Bulwarks, whom he had once driven to the brink.
Even ten thousand years ago, that man had never been worthy of being his opponent.
The Dark Emperor had only ever had one true rival.
The Emperor. That false Emperor.
Though that false Emperor already belonged to the past.
Perhaps now, Horus thought, his list of rivals could include one more.
The Savior. The Emperor of the Imperium.
That was what Horus thought to himself.
He would destroy the Iron Wall that the Savior had poured everything into forging, forcing him to watch as the Imperium's pathetic dream crumbled and sank into the abyss.
Humanity would be better off under his rule as Dark Emperor.
In blood and agony, they would be remade into a stronger race.
Into Chaos life-forms.
That was mankind's true future.
Rogal Dorn stood right in front of him, yet Horus gave him little attention. His mind was occupied with how to destroy the Savior and reshape mankind's future.
The mere outward spill of his dark presence was enough to suppress the Lord of Iron Bulwarks' momentum.
"That bastard has grown stronger. Stronger than ever before. Even compared to ten thousand years ago..."
Even though Dorn appeared only as a virtual image formed through sorcery, he could still feel that horrifying pressure.
The sheer might radiating from Horus made him instinctively hold his breath, his heart sinking.
Dorn had known Horus's strength before.
Back during the Siege of Terra ten thousand years ago, the traitor's armies had pressed him to the brink of despair.
Then came the duel between that traitor and their father, a clash so titanic that it had stirred both the warp and realspace at a higher-dimensional level.
At the time, every high-ranking warrior had felt the terrible aftershocks and the staggering power of the two combatants.
And now Horus's strength had increased yet again.
It seemed the Chaos Gods had granted him even more warp-born power.
Dorn slowly raised his head and looked toward Horus on the throne. Behind the Chaos Iron Throne was that man's twisted projection of dark power, impossibly vast.
Like a bottomless abyss.
From the very first exchange, the Lord of Iron Bulwarks had fallen behind. His momentum had been crushed.
Anyone could see it.
"With strength like this, and those enormous hidden Chaos main forces... perhaps Horus has concealed even more than we feared. The defenses of Holy Terra may be in greater danger than ever before..."
Dorn drew in a deep breath, his stern face grave beyond words.
"I was too careless before. I underestimated Horus's strength and cunning. I believed victory would come easily with the garrison forces alone.
"Thankfully, my elder brother's commanders warned me in time and stopped me. Otherwise I might have made a disastrous mistake."
He felt the danger of the situation more and more keenly now. He understood just how heavy the burden was that the Savior, his elder brother, had entrusted to him, and he regretted his earlier confidence and carelessness.
The galaxy was no longer what it had once been.
Even Holy Terra, with what seemed to him like impossibly vast military strength, could not guarantee that the line would hold or that victory was certain.
Still, terrifying though Horus's presence was, it could not crush the Lord of Iron Bulwarks' will to fight.
Dorn had not forgotten why he had come here.
Nor would he ever bow to the enemies of the Imperium, not ten thousand years ago, and not now.
He was the Imperium's final fortress wall.
He was the hope that the Iron Wall around Holy Terra could still be held.
If the Savior was absent, then he would bear this burden in his place.
Dorn's gaze hardened.
He endured the pressure radiating from Horus, the Dark Emperor, and stared him in the eye.
"You are nothing but a servant of Chaos. Put a crown on your head and you are still only a clown amusing yourself.
"No matter what scheme you are preparing, it will be crushed.
"I will drag you down from that throne, clown."
At that, Horus burst into laughter.
He did not care in the slightest.
"My poor brother, your methods of provocation are still as clumsy as ever. Just like before. They're too dull to stir even the slightest interest, and they mean nothing.
"You were so eager to seek me out... because you've already felt the hidden threat and the pressure closing in, haven't you?
"You're struggling beneath my offensive, and now you hope to provoke me into an early decisive battle?"
He had seen through Dorn's purpose at once.
The Lord of Iron Bulwarks had established contact with the Chaos temple for one reason only: to provoke the Dark Emperor and create a chance for the Imperium to force an early decisive battle.
In doing so, Rogal Dorn had revealed the Imperium's lack of confidence, which only strengthened the morale on the Chaos side.
It proved that the coalition's all-out assault had been the right choice.
They had struck at the Imperium's vital point.
Hearing those words, Mortarion and the other fallen primarchs grew more arrogant, their earlier fatigue swept away.
Their assault had worked.
Once the next stage of their arrangements was activated, victory would tilt fully toward Chaos.
"By the Emperor... then the intelligence dragged out by the interrogation division was correct. Horus really has hidden the main Chaos army.
"At least eighty percent, perhaps more."
Feeling the unrestrained arrogance of the traitors inside the Chaos temple, Dorn made his own judgment.
He, too, had been probing.
Whether it was the Lord of Iron Bulwarks or the servants of Chaos, both sides had now tested out the answer they wanted.
Each, from their own point of view, had measured the strength of the other.
"My apologies, poor brother. It seems your little scheme has already collapsed. I am the Dark Emperor, an unstoppable commander, not some reckless brute like Guilliman or the Khan."
Horus shook his head.
"I do not let fleeting emotion drive me into duels with the enemy, nor into foolish, irrational decisions.
"That would be stupidity of the highest order.
"So I will not accept your provocation. Nor will I fight you in some childish decisive duel. Such behavior is meaningless to the war as a whole.
"Take that petty little trick of yours and try it on someone else."
He fixed Dorn with a stare.
"Now all you can do is watch the Imperial lines slide steadily toward ruin. Watch me step onto Terra itself with power greater than before.
"And there is nothing you can do about it.
"Perhaps after I grind the false Emperor's bones to powder, I may leave you a few fragments as souvenirs.
"To be honest, you disappoint me. After all these years, I thought you might have improved at least a little."
Horus's words mercilessly tore apart Dorn's intentions and rejected his provocation.
He looked down on him from above, teaching him a lesson like an elder brother.
Worse still, the fallen primarchs also cast mocking and contemptuous looks toward Dorn. Some even laughed coldly.
Compared to Horus, that man still fell far short.
The two of them were simply not operating on the same level.
"Faithful hound of the false Emperor... once your lines collapse, I'll make you pay for the score we left unsettled long ago..."
At that moment, Alpharius's Chaos image appeared. He stared fixedly at Dorn, his eyes thick with hatred.
Ten thousand years ago, in the Battle of Pluto, it had been Dorn who cut off his head in single combat, leaving him humiliated and dead in defeat.
Now this resurrected fallen primarch wanted his revenge.
"Alpharius, I will leave him to you. You may take his head."
Horus smiled as he spoke to the primarch of the ghost legion, deciding Dorn's fate in front of everyone present.
That man was still not worthy of facing the Dark Emperor personally.
Of course, if stubborn fool that he was dared draw a blade on Horus, then Horus would not mind crushing him beneath his heel.
Inside the Chaos temple, the Lord of Iron Bulwarks' momentum had been completely smothered by Horus. He stood there under open humiliation.
"Horus, I admit that you are strong, and that your command ability is extraordinary.
"You have made the movement and trajectory of the Chaos host difficult to predict."
Dorn knew that his own momentum had been suppressed, yet still forced himself onward.
"You are holding back. You have hidden even more troops.
"You mean to toy with Holy Terra's defenders. You mean to crush our lines through loathsome schemes and overwhelming force.
"Horus, did you really think we knew nothing?
"Your schemes will fail. You will not break the will of the Imperium to stand firm to the very end!"
Now that he knew provocation would not work, Dorn stopped concealing his intent and laid everything bare. He openly declared war.
The meaning was obvious.
Horus, I know your scheme. I know your tricks. I know you are hiding strength, so stop skulking in the shadows and springing ambushes.
Let us settle this in open battle.
A brutal, head-on war.
No matter how many hidden armies Horus sent, Dorn would meet them all and deny him success.
Even if the horrifying Chaos tide continued to surge in.
Even if the Iron Wall trembled on the edge of collapse.
As the Praetorian, as Terra's supreme defensive commander, he would hold the line to the end.
?
??
???!
The more Horus and the other fallen primarchs listened to Rogal Dorn's declaration of war, the more confused they became. Their faces filled with question marks.
Their expressions changed.
The entire Chaos temple fell silent.
Who was hiding troops?
They were all already going all out.
What hidden troops?
The fallen primarchs looked from one to another, trying to determine who exactly had concealed forces.
Because that would be treachery even among traitors.
Everyone else had thrown everything into the fight, and you still dared keep forces back?
Then, one by one, their eyes turned toward Horus.
If anyone possessed the means to hide troops, perhaps only the Dark Emperor could do it.
But the fallen primarchs were not especially angry.
If Horus truly had hidden troops and was preparing some deeper scheme, then that was good news for Chaos.
It meant their odds of victory were even greater.
Under the suspicious gazes of the fallen primarchs, Horus's earlier calm, composed posture finally changed.
A trace of anger appeared.
Who the hell said he had hidden troops?
Sure, he wanted to do that.
But he did not have that kind of spare manpower.
Hadn't they seen that he had already sent the Dark Justaerin to the front?
This was slander!
Horus realized everyone seemed to have misunderstood something, but he could hardly explain it.
What was he supposed to say?
That the Imperium had overestimated their strength, and that there were no extra troops at all?
That sort of situation was even more maddening than an outright provocation.
His face was starting to flush red with pent-up frustration.
Before Horus could respond, Rogal Dorn spoke again, his tone upright and severe.
"We already possess confirmed intelligence. You have hidden at least eighty percent of your troops. Lies and concealment are meaningless now."
He had watched the reactions of Horus and the others just now. Clearly, they were uneasy about the Imperium having discovered the leak.
So Dorn no longer bothered going in circles with these sly, treacherous bastards.
"Our reconnaissance forces will soon locate the hidden main Chaos host and shatter every one of your buried schemes!"
As he spoke, his folded-arm image began to fade, unable to maintain itself any longer, leaving only one final line behind:
"Horus, I will personally hold the line.
"I am waiting for you to stop your meaningless feints and launch your full assault. But I know you can't do it. You cannot break the lines I have prepared."
When the Lord of Iron Bulwarks' phantom turned to ash and vanished, the Chaos temple fell into an even more awkward silence.
"What humiliation..."
By now, the face of Horus, that supposedly supremely majestic being, had started turning from red to green.
Even his lips were trembling.
The Dark Emperor had lost all the poise he had shown before. In his loss of composure, he crushed the Chaos-alloy armrest of his throne in one hand.
It said everything about the frustration and fury boiling inside him.
At first, Horus had not cared at all about Rogal Dorn's provocations.
He had not even wanted to dignify them with attention.
But Dorn's insistence that he was hiding troops and merely launching feints was more humiliating than any direct insult.
Horus had already committed every troop he had.
He was already attacking with every ounce of his strength, pouring in his entire life's experience and focus.
And all it earned him was that one cold line from Dorn:
Stop feinting already. Can you even do it or not?
Under the pressure of humiliation and fury, Horus's bloodshot eyes even glistened faintly with tears.
There was no question now.
He had been completely shattered by it.
Rogal Dorn's words were like a knife to the heart, the ultimate humiliation. How could words in this world be so cold and vicious?
And it was not only him.
Once the other fallen primarchs realized that Horus had not been hiding troops after all, they too felt an indescribable humiliation.
Their temperatures rose on the spot.
It was almost as if Dorn had stood there and pointed at every single one of them, saying:
I'm not targeting anyone in particular. Everyone here is trash.
And that line about feints was an even greater critical hit.
It insulted all of them in a single blow.
This was going too far.
"Rogal Dorn!"
A wretched roar erupted through the Chaos temple as Horus and the others went from humiliation to absolute rage.
At a stroke, the Lord of Iron Bulwarks had drawn the hatred of every fallen primarch present, and not the kind that could ever be reconciled.
They wanted to catch him, flay him, and tear him apart.
"This is a war we must win above all others. We must wash away this shame.
"And Rogal Dorn..."
At last, Horus's monstrous form rose from the throne, a loathsome Chaos blade in his hand.
He had completely lost his composure.
Sword in hand, he personally charged toward the Lord of Iron Bulwarks' front, heedless of everything else.
The other fallen primarchs were also cracking their knuckles, murderous intent boiling off them in waves.
...
At the same time, Holy Terra Command.
No sooner had Rogal Dorn ended his connection with the Chaos temple than one of his aides hurried over and asked anxiously,
"My lord, were you able to provoke Horus? Can we draw them into launching the full assault?"
The commanders were desperate for a decisive battle with the Chaos coalition, lest prolonged corruption lead to further disasters.
Recalling what had just happened in the Chaos temple, Dorn shook his head with regret, his expression worried.
"I failed to provoke Horus. He is more steady and composed than I expected.
"If we cannot locate the main Chaos force, then I fear the situation before us will only become even more difficult..."
(End of Chapter)
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