2nd Primarch

As Dukel's fleet approached outer orbit, the ground war on Nalai Star reached a white-hot stage.

The people of the Empire, poisoned and turned into zombies, were now being driven forward by the World Purification Plague Army as human shields, forced to stand on the front lines.

In front of the majestic and towering steel fortress, the corpses of the Astra Militarum and Chaos forces piled up like a mountain.

The political commissar of the Star Army, enduring the agony of viral infection, stubbornly resisted the enemy's flanking maneuvers. Looking at the rotting and putrid viral zombies before him, he suppressed the anger and nausea rising within. He had survived countless battles and hoped this time would be no exception.

To be killed by the Nurgle virus was a fate no loyalist warrior could bear.

His former comrades-in-arms, now walking corpses infected by the virus, launched a ferocious assault against their former brothers. The desecrated corpses stared ahead with lifeless eyes, their bodies reduced to playthings of Chaos. Their noble souls found no peace, unworthy to return to the Golden Throne.

The Astra Militarum soldiers witnessed this abomination, their pain immense, but their resolve unshaken. Mercy was a luxury they could not afford.

The reanimated corpses let out grotesque, meaningless laughter, disgusting mucus oozing from the sores on their decayed bodies. Waves of bullets and artillery fire drove the vile creatures back repeatedly, but the onslaught was relentless.

As time passed, despair took root in the hearts of the Imperial soldiers. Their enemies seemed endless, and reinforcements remained a distant hope. Familiar faces, once comrades, now grotesque, rotting zombies, haunted their resolve and gnawed at their spirits, dragging them toward the abyss.

Above in outer orbit, the Soul Fire unleashed its fury. Light spears and macro-cannon fire erupted like countless starbursts in the dark void. The Chaos warships of the World Purification Plague Army met this sudden assault and were swiftly reduced to smoldering ruins.

The Soul Fire's advanced weapon systems roared with the might of the Machine Spirit, shattering enemy energy shields effortlessly. Chaos warships, which could typically hold their own against aging vessels of the Imperial fleet, crumbled before the Soul Fire's cutting-edge arsenal.

The shattered remains of Chaos warriors drifted lifelessly through the void. For absolute certainty, Dukel ordered the Thunderbirds to sweep through and annihilate the debris, ensuring no remnants of the fallen warriors could rise again.

Dukel stood on the bridge, his face illuminated by the fiery glow of macro-cannon salvos. His eyes reflected the destructive spectacle unfolding in the void—a violent ballet of starships and blazing firepower.

Efilar approached him, her voice calm but resolute.

"Your Highness, the enemy fleet has been eliminated. The think tank has forwarded the battle plan for your review."

During warfare, Dukel respected the counsel of the think tank. Its logical detachment ensured decisions remained unclouded by emotion, something even a Primarch could appreciate.

After meticulously reviewing the plan, Dukel nodded.

"Proceed as outlined. Prepare for airdrops and ground combat."

With his order, the crew of the Soul Fire sprang into motion.

The massive 28-kilometer-long vessel bustled like a city in preparation. Chosen teams moved to designated areas, ready to board their drop pods for deployment. Fighter engines roared to life, their pilots standing by. Servitors lumbered methodically across the decks, carrying munitions in their mechanical arms.

On the consoles, Thinker biological computers—crafted from the minds of clones or criminals sanctified by the Mechanicus—blinked to life. Immune to electronic demonic corruption, they processed tactical data, relaying insights to the think tank.

Dukel stood on the observation deck, Efilar by his side. Recently elevated to the status of a living saint, she now served as his trusted advisor and personal guard.

"Your Highness, all preparations are complete," she reported after receiving updates from various departments.

Dukel nodded. His voice, amplified by the comm system within his power armor, rang out to his warriors.

"Glory to the Golden Throne! Victory is ours, warriors. Follow my lead—I will fight by your side!"

Cheers and chants of triumph erupted across the communication channel. The Space Marines revered Dukel as a god of war, leading every charge and cutting through enemy defenses with unrelenting ferocity.

Efilar interrupted the fervor with a cautionary message.

"Your Highness, the think tank has flagged anomalies. This battle may be a trap devised by Chaos."

"A trap?" Dukel's lips curled into a faint smile.

"Good. Let it be entertaining."

His unyielding passion for combat and refusal to retreat burned brightly, dispelling the weight of her warning.

Turning to the seasoned captain of the Soul Fire, Dukel commanded,

"Maintain vigilance over the subspace transmission channels. We will ensure these Chaos wretches are erased from existence."

"Deploy suppressive fire to dismantle their orbital defenses. Once their anti-air systems are neutralized, initiate troop deployment. Ultramarines and Dreadnoughts—onto the battlefield!"

The captain saluted, affirming the orders, and the preparations intensified. Dukel stepped into the drop chamber, inspecting weapons and supplies before entering his pod.

As the violent jolt of ejection hurled him toward the planet's surface, he roared into the comms,

"Warriors of the Imperium, the battle begins! Let us remind these heretics whose galaxy this is!"

His pod descended, fire licking its edges as it tore through Nalai Star's atmosphere. Behind him, countless drop pods followed, blazing streaks in the sky like a meteor storm, heralding doom for the enemies of the Emperor.