2nd Primarch

Explosions lit up the sky, their fiery brilliance piercing the heavens.

The mountainside of the final defensive line had been blown wide open, leaving a massive breach that sent thick, black smoke spiraling into the air. The smoke hung in the sky like an omen, refusing to dissipate.

Both the Imperial warriors and the Nurgle demons froze, stunned by the sudden and unexpected explosion. Their faces mirrored the same confusion as they stared at the gaping hole.

What was happening?

Was that... an explosion from within the defensive line?

The Imperial Space Marines exchanged bewildered glances.

"What just happened?! Could it be... heretics have infiltrated and blown open the last line of defense?!"

Even the Great Unclean One, Lymphas, was taken aback. His grotesquely bloated face twisted into an expression of genuine confusion as he gazed at the breach.

"Huh? We have infiltrators inside? And they managed to blow open the final defense line?"

In their endless war against the Imperium, Chaos often relied on seduction and subversion to infiltrate humanity's ranks. Yet Lymphas was genuinely unaware of any signs of corruption within their opponents this time.

Still, he knew the objective of this battle all too well. And now, it seemed...

This breach might just lead directly to their target.

For a brief moment, the chaotic battlefield fell eerily silent.

Imperial warriors and the Chaos Daemons alike stood in place, trying to process this baffling development.

Then, the silence shattered.

"Charge, my children! Praise the Grandfather! Through the breach, onward to victory!" Lymphas roared with conviction.

In his view, the Imperial forces exposing such a colossal weakness could only be a sign of the Grandfather's blessing. As for whether it might be a trap?

A trap? Hah! As if attacking from another angle would be any safer!

"Hold the breach! Defend it at all costs!" the Imperial Space Marine Captain bellowed. "We cannot let them through!"

The veteran Space Marines manning the defense prepared themselves for the ultimate sacrifice. But what they hadn't anticipated was the sheer fervor of the daemon horde.

Driven by Lymphas' commands, the Nurgle demons surged forward like a flood, heedless of the withering fire raining down on them. The daemons weren't even concerned with the defenders—they were singularly focused on their ultimate target.

For the Plague Father's minions, their objective was clear: the Primarch. To defile the Primarch with the Grandfather's blessed rot would be the ultimate triumph.

Visions of the Plague Father's approval—his loving gaze, his boundless rewards—spurred the Nurgle horde into a frenzied charge.

Inside the mountain, Imperial forces braced for impact.

Dukel, gripping his chainsword tightly, stood at the forefront. The advancing footsteps of the daemon horde echoed in his ears, and his blood boiled with anticipation. The flames of his battle fervor spread to the Second Legion's Honor Guard, their eyes alight with excitement, teetering on the edge of madness.

Nearby, Commissar Cain sat frozen for a full ten seconds before snapping out of his daze. He let out a sigh, then knelt to pray.

"Merciful Emperor, grant me just a shred of your favor. Though I am unworthy—a coward, a failure, no Primarch in courage or might—please, guide me once more so that I might follow in the footsteps of demigods and survive this battle."

The brief prayer steadied his heart, and his expression hardened. Gone was the trembling bureaucrat; in his place stood a warrior with the resolve of a battle-scarred veteran.

"They're here!" Dukel's voice rang out. His eyes burned with intensity as he raised his chainsword.

The battle began in earnest.

A psychic matrix field flared into existence, a massive and invisible force emanating from the Primarch. It linked every member of the psychic network present, forming an unbreakable shield of willpower.

The Nurgle horde hadn't even reached the front lines when eerie phenomena began to manifest. Swollen pustules erupted from the walls, leaking viscous pus teeming with worms. Sticky filth oozed from the breach. But the psychic field suppressed these grotesque displays. The walls smoothed, the ground dried, and the filth vanished as though it had never been.

When the first Nurgle demons crossed the threshold, their shrieks of agony filled the air. Green mists leaked from their bodies as the Emperor's consecrated wards glowed with golden light, purging the Warp's corruption.

Yet the daemons' malevolence did not waver. Snarling and filled with hatred, they surged forward.

"For the Plague Father!"

But then they saw him.

Towering as if he were a walking fortress, the armored Primarch Dukel stormed toward them. His face bore a smile more feral and bloodthirsty than any daemon's snarl.

"You've finally arrived!" he roared.

With a deafening crash, his power fists slammed down, pulverizing the lead demon into a splatter of rancid gore.

"For humanity! For the Emperor!" Dukel bellowed, lifting his custom chainsword—a massive two-meter blade—and wielding it as if it were a mere dagger. The monomolecular teeth, wreathed in psychic flames, carved through daemons like a scythe through wheat.

The Nurgle horde hesitated, bewildered by the sight.

Had they stumbled upon a Khorne champion by mistake?

After careful observation, they realized the truth.

Oh. It's just a human.

But before they could regroup, Dukel lunged forward with terrifying speed.

"Don't run! Weren't you eager to get inside?!"

The carnage was staggering. Chainsword whirring, psychic flames blazing, Dukel cleaved through the Nurgle horde with relentless fury.

Watching from behind, Commissar Cain could only stare in silence.

Was breaching the defensive line even a problem anymore?

From the look of things, Lord Dukel might single-handedly push the Nurgle forces back out.

For a fleeting moment, Cain dared to hope.

"Maybe next time, I can afford to take a few more risks…"

But then Dukel shouted:

"Second Tactic! Execute!"

Cain's blood ran cold as he watched the Second Legion's Honor Guard scurry to plant melta charges on another section of the wall.

Boom!

The second breach sent Cain's soul plummeting into despair. He clutched his head, groaning.

"Lord Dukel, why?!"

Dukel, oblivious to Cain's distress, grinned with satisfaction as he surveyed the battlefield.

Two breaches. Twice the fun.

"This is the will of the Emperor!" Dukel declared, moving between the breaches with inhuman speed, cutting down daemons with boundless energy.

For Dukel, this was bliss. The thrill of battle, the joy of combat—he could do this for a year without tiring.

Pausing briefly, he clapped a hand on Cain's shoulder. "Relax. We have the advantage!"

Cain's face twitched. His laugh was half a sob.