Chapter Twenty: The Lunar Crusade (Part II)

Location: High Altar of the Four Phases.

Date: 813.M30 (Ten hours since the battle for Luna beguin)

The combined attacks of the XI and XIII Legions were making brutal headway across Luna, sweeping away the forces of Chaos like a tide of fire. Port Luna and most of the surrounding habitats and subsurface zone had been reclaimed, letting next phase of the Imperial Assault beguin. Regiments of Solar Auxilia, Martian Knights, and a few of the more tame specimens of the Titan Legions had arrived. Even so, the Cultists put up a vicious. mass-produced Daemon-Hosts and fell psi-weaponry backed by seemingly infinite hordes of maddened cultists proved a vicious combination.

Though the Astartes who fought on the surface of Luna had won a great victory over the corruption fighting to consume their soul, they had not emerged from the conflict unscathed. In purging the taint of Chaos from their bodies and souls, their organs and bone were marred and would take time to recover. Subconscious fears and stresses had been brought to the fore. The effects of the geneblight would have crippled mortals, but the Emperor's genius would not be bested by such foulness easily. The Legionaries fought on, through pain and damage. Luna would be redeemed, and the enemies of Mankind would fall.

Even with the higher than calculated casualty rate and the level of preparation by the Creed of Four phases, the dual assault of the XI and XIII Legion would succeed. The XIII's number, flexibility and adaptiveness was perfectly complemented by the vicious intensity of the XI Legion. Chapters of Marcus' sons formed the frontline while companies of Kailb's children acted as shock-troopers. Combining their natural ferocity and psychic boons to overwhelm the foe. So far both Primarchs leading the surface assault had personally killed three Greater Neverborn (or Second Born) each. Kalib lightheartedly mocked his brother that the one on top of the gate did not count to the tally.

With Port Luna claimed and Luna Voidspace under Imperial control the final stage of the assault could beguin. The XVI Legion would deepstrike into Luna's innards. Striking the traitors off guard. A combination of teleportation beacons and burrowing drop-pods would allow Horus Lupercali to lead a vicious decapitation strike.

Unlike the XI and XIII Legions that started the campaign unified the XVI Legion has been scattered across Luna. Positioned to attack command centers and assist surviving loyalists. Orbital scans allowed for efficient deployment. The more Warp-Taint and energy discharge the more Astartes were deployed. So fittingly the XVI Primarch struck the foulest and most entrenched citadel of the Creed of Four Phases.

This High Altar as its creators called it was a massive complex burrowed into Luna's flesh. Located near the Moon's north pole the citadel of Chaos now occupied what had once been the Emperor's Luna Laboratories. Sealed away at the Eternal Tyrant's orders, the massive complex had gathered dust and shadow until the Creed scavenged it. Once they cracked open the gate hidden at the Laboratories heart. The now barren structure was hidden from the Emperor's eye by Belakor's power. Forming a perfect sanctuary for the Creed to grow.

The symbolic value also enhanced the Cult's standing. By occupying what had once been the Emperor's and declared forbidden without repercussion. The Creed of Four Phases showed their power and influence. In their ignorance and insanity, they assumed the Emperor was blind and impotent. Willful ignorance blinded them to the terrible truth. They had not succeeded in defying the Imperium. Instead, they had been cultivated like prized livestock, fattened up for the slaughter. Now, just as the Emperor planned, the harvest had beguin.

Horus Lupercali and an elite cadre of First Formation Astartes struck the High Altar from Lunar Orbit. Adamantium rain of Drop Pods punched through the Lunar Surface. The experimental Kharybdis Assault Claw could punch through meters of bedrock and steel. Depositing the Astartes directly into the outer halls of the High Altar. Here the XVI Legion's war began.

The High Altar's defenses were congregated at various choke-points throughout the temple. Expecting the Emperor's Angels to smash through the main gate and be easy prey to their weapon emplacements. So when a storm of adamantium and plasma broke through the first three levels of the complex, turning the frontline defenders into a slurry of ash and paste, the Cultists were caught completely guard. Before the soldiers of the Creed could rally, the Drop Pods opened up. Armed with the best wargear the Lunar Elite could acquire and blessed by the Gods themselves. The army that dwelled within the High Altar could have matched any Solar Auxilia regiment. The Astartes ripped through them with practiced ease.

Leading from the front, the Primarch smashed apart enemy formations with each swing of his mighty Power-Mace. With god-like precision, Horus Lupercali blew apart enemy commanders with careful bolter fire. Abaddon stood at his side, fighting through his injuries to assist the Primarch. Although Sigismund of the VII was a better duelist and Blood-Jarl Önundr of the VI was certainly more ferocious, Abaddon combined a level of grit and righteous fury that let him fight on a similar level. That was on full display as he hacked through Cultists and roared oaths of vengeance. Inspiring his battle brothers and setting a glorious example.

After almost an hour of steady offense, the XVI Legion strike force reached their first real challenge. A massive gate that blocked entrance to the inner sanctum of the Altar. The titanic structure was inscribed with thousands of sigils and runes that hurt the eyes to gaze upon. It was one of the four entrances into the Inner Sanctum. Each gate lead to a temple to one of the Four Gods. Which in turn held entrance to the High Altar itself. The theology being one must prove their worthiness to one or all of the Gods before they could enter the holy of holies.

This Gate lead to the Warrior Temple, where the Blood God was worshipped in rituals of combat and gore. As they approached the gate, its defenders charged, hulking berserkers that matched Astartes in both size and might. Armed with savage tools of butchery and blessed with the madness of Khorne, they collided with the Astartes frontline in a wave of carnage. The enemy was mighty, and the Astartes were tired from their experiences. The curse inflicted by the Lunar Cultists and the damage accumulated during the battle was taking a toll. Berserkers and Angels died in droves. Soon the stone floor was slick with shed blood. A befitting offering to Khorne.

Gifted with his superhuman intellect and senses, Horus was the first to notice a peculiarity that affected the battlefield. The pools of blood were slowly but surely flowing towards the Gate. Droplets that formed into streams, then to rivers, and eventually into a subtle tide. This current pressed against the foot of the gate, and through occult witchery, flowed upwards. Blood pooled in runic grooves, forming a dread pattern, acting as fuel for a horrid Chaotic Ritual.

Swearing in his Assa-Matrari's Terran dialect, Horus charged the Gate, smashing aside all who tried to stop him. Holstering his Bolter and drawing upon his psychic might, the Primarch became a charging storm of pyrokinetic flames and energized Adamantium. Berserkers were burnt to ash and swatted aside by crushing blows. Laughing madly and chanting the mad battle cry of "Maim! Kill Burn!", the Berserkers threw themselves into the Primarchs path. Horus smashed aside the charging pack with a single blow. He watched in horror as the blood pouring from a pulped enemy defied gravity and flowed towards the Gate in an aerial stream.

With every drop of blood soaking into the blasphemous inscription, its magnetic draw on spilled ichor increased. The moment the battle started this outcome was inevitable. These berserkers who guarded the Gate of Blood were not simply its wardens, but a sacrifice to bring forth its true defender.

The XVI Legion's fighting pace was too slow, and had arrived too late to stop the completion of the ritual. The blood created a pattern, one that looked like a many armed horror. Soon the inscription congealed into a Daemonic outline. Like a leviathan breeching from the ocean's surface, a massive Warp-Predator pushed through the pool of blood that covered the gate. The Warden of the Bloody Gate had arrived.

The Daemon matched a Warhound titan in bulk and height. Its skin was the reddish black of clotted blood and its very being radiated a controlled psychotic fury. Its head possesed eight faces that circled all the way around its skull, each a ghastly visage born from mortal nightmares. A swarm of sixteen arms, marked with ritual tattoos and bulging with supernatural muscle jutted from its torso. Each limb held a weapon of bloodshed, wicked things of beaten brass and iron.

The moment it's clawed feet touched the chamber floor, the tide of the battle shifted. Its foul blessings empowered the surviving berserkers and filled them with a mad desire to impress the emissary of their patron god, driving any and all semblance of reason from them. The Astartes could barely hold the line and defend against the resurgent cultists. Horus knew the monster had to die, and fast. Which was easier said than done. The rift in reality the Lunar Cultists had unleashed provided a font of power for neverborn to draw upon. So in this blood soaked chamber the summoned fiend could draw upon far more of its power than it should be able to in the Materium. Let alone so close to the Astronomicon.

Marshalling himself, Horus Lupercali prepared to charge the horror. Sensing the killing intent and corona of psychic power that was the Primarch. The Daemon spoke: "I am Kha'aksha. Bloodthirster of the Third Host. You shall die by my blade, Anathema-Spawn"

All eight faces delivered there challenge in dreadful harmony. Its weapons whirled in a storm of metal, preparing to face the Primarch. The Demigod of Order and Archfiend of Chaos stared into each other's eyes. Sizing up their opponents strength and weaknesses. Taking in a deep breath, Horus gripped the pommel of his Power-Mace, and with a simple psychic pulse, he unlocked a hidden compartment. As the artifact inside was exposed, the ritual chamber was bathed in glowing white light. The daemon and its minions recoiled from the searing corona.

Horus held up what appeared to all as a miniature Sun. It was the Emperor's gift to his child. It was the tip of an ancient spear. which had pierced the Emperor's side many millennia ago. Over time, due to the potency of the blood and the adulant worship of millions, it had become infused with the Emperors psychic power. As Horus revealed more and more of the ancient weapon, its shoddy metal core slowly encased in crystalized light. Ages of reverence along with the Emperors growing power turned it into a shining blade of psychic might and a truly formidable weapon if in the right hands. This Speartip of Destiny was one of the most powerful tools against Warp-Corruption in human history. Suitably given to the Primarch whose corruption in another timeline had damned existence.

While far less harmonized with the artifact that his father's soul was, Horus began to pour his psychic power into the Spear-tip, which soon grew a shaft of white psi-crystal. Now the Primarch stood equipped with a weapon worthy of him. Testing his gift he twirled between his hands. Bolts of psychic lighting stabbed out from the spear and burned whatever they touched on both material and psychic planes.

Leveling the blade at his foe Horus Lupercali proclaimed: "In the name of the Emperor, the human soul and the Imperium. I sentence you to death."

Moving faster than his bulky Terminator armor should have allowed Horus charged the Bloodthirster. It counter charged him, roaring a bloody war-cry and swinging its storm of weapons. Kine-Shields flared into being around the Primarch as he weaved between the attacking blades. Horus moved through the Daemons guard and slashed across its chest with the Spear of Destiny. The wound did not bleed from the deep cut Horus had inflicted, but instead burned with white light, forming a searing scar on the creature's flesh.

Horus tried to back out of the Daemon's reach while parrying attacks with both Spear and Kine Shield. He was a fraction too slow and a salvo of six arms smashed into his left flank. The blow would have killed an Astartes and it tossed the Primarch a few meters. Superhuman agility and a bit of telekinesis allowed Horus to land on his feet. Spinning to face the monster Horus snarled and leveled his weapon. This was the first time he had used the Spear in combat and did not fully understand its capabilities. Now was as good of a time as any to test his gift.

Guided by some intuitive insight, Horus channeled his psychic energies into the weapon. A Primarch is a being of both realms of existence. Each brother was a Soul of unfathomable power inhabiting a superhuman body. Capable of channeling huge amounts of Warp-Energy into a body that could handle it. Now, a fraction of that godlike potential was discharged from the Spears tip.

Like the bastard child of lighting and a Lance Battery, its struck. The blinding flash forced battle surrounding them to stop for a moment. The Astartes helmets compensated for the blast, the Berserkers were not so lucky. Most were blinded, a few of the unlucky outliers had their eyes and exposed skin burned away. The Spear's Beam struck the Daemon square in the chest, obliterating most of its torso and continuing through the fiend. It blasted into the meeting point of the Bloody Gate and the chamber walls. Ripping open the entrance to the Khornate Temple and gouging a hole in the outer parts of the temple complex. The psychic might of a Primarch focused through a resonant artifact proved utterly devastating, beyond even Horus' expectations.

Horus staggered back, shocked by the destructive force he just unleashed. Despite being mutilated beyond reason the Daemon staggered forward. Blood and gore leaked from its catastrophic injuries. Leaving a grisly trail as it staggered towards Horus. The Bloodthirster's host body was rapidly falling apart. It growled curses and threats in the dark tongue of its native language as it stumbled forward, desperate to get close enough to spill the Primarchs blood. Horus channeled a few sparks of psychic energy into the spear. Letting the blades psi-crystal edge grow into a great mass of spiked warp-matter. Instead of a spear, he now held a massive mace. Like a headsman of old he lifted his weapon up and brought it down on the Daemons head, and with a resounding boom that reverberated through both the material and immaterial planes, the Bloothirster was banished.

Though Horus lacked the control and knowledge to fully kill the monster, he did manage to maim it. The saga of its defeat became etched into its being. Now it's bloody banishment became as part of its story as the ancient massacre that birthed it. If Kha'aksha the Bloodthirster were to ever gain the strength to enter the material realm again, it would be a broken crippled thing.

With the Daemon destroyed, the Berserkers were quickly finished off. The battle had taken its toll. Apothecaries worked to harvest Geneseed and patch up the wounded in the battles lull. Even the Primarch felt the toll of what he had done. Horus was young, lacking the control and endurance he would gain in the ensuing centuries. His body had barely withstood the energy he unleashed and his mind was taxed. The Primarch actually used his weapon as a makeshift walking stick for a few moments as he recollected himself. Soon his remarkable regenerative abilities started to kick in. It would take days for him to return to prime condition, but for now, he could fight.

The new form his weapon had taken suited Horus better. A mighty cudgel to crush the foes of mankind. Learning to change its form and function would be valuable tool. Hammer, Spear, lance, halberd. Many weapons of war to slay the foes to come. Holding up the Longinus and facing his sons Horus let out a roar of triumph. Then he pointed the hammer head at the Gate and issued the order to continue the assault.

The Gate door damaged by Horus's energy burst required only a few gouts of plasmas to final come off its hinges. With a wail of broken and stressed metal, it collapsed, opening the path to the XVI Legion. Before them was a pitch black tunnel, filled with a darkness that seemed to stare back at the Astartes as they gazed into its abyssal depths. A pack of Terminators quickly assembled. They would be the first into the breach with the rest of the strike force following close behind. The chorus of metal boots echoed through the dark hallway, forming a rolling wave of sonic thunder that prophesied doom for the enemies of mankind. Then a new sound was added. A sickening squelch as the Terminators stepped into something that covered the floor before them. As far as the Astartes could see, the chamber floor was covered in a horrid film of blood, broken flesh and shattered bone.

Thousands of people had died horribly in this chamber, and now their remains carpeted the chamber. Horus ordered a Mind-Magi from the legion Librarius to inspect the remains. Kneeling down to commune with the layer of broken meat. After a moment the Librarian jolted back and swore. Gathering his power and prepping wards the Mind-Magi frantically called "Prepare for Battle, Neverborn incoming!"

The fleshy detritus filling the chamber had been left to chum the Sea of Souls. Along with giving bodies to those from beyond. Shadowy tendrils of energy materialized from the Warp, slithering into the broken bodies and knitting them together, giving form to the incarnation of bloodshed and fury. The Daemons of Khorne entered into the Materium. A host of Bloodthirsters howling for Transhuman blood. The cultists of Luna had found many ways to use the power of the warp effectively. Blasphemously using the wonder of human curiosity and scientific understanding to assist the Predators in the Immaterium. The Creed of Four Phases walked a path where ritual and the occult was refined from superstition to an art and science. If these techniques could be further refined…. The Galaxy would burn.

But first the Creed would have to survive the Emperor's Wrath. Which came in the form of Three Legions and their Primarchs. Horus lead his sons in cutting down the Bloodletters. They were empowered by the Warp and could each match two Astartes in might. Any other day this battle would be a bloody and brutal affair for the Astartes. Today it would be a different story. Horus gripped the mace-head of his weapon and dissolved the Psi-Crystal. Now, the bare metal of the Spear-tip was visible. Without the crystalized energy to mask it, the Speartip glowed like a purifying Sun. The power of every myth and legend regarding it, combined with a drop of the Emperors own life-blood made it a thing of light, fire and destruction of all that is evil.

Lifting up the Spear so the light at its tip formed an Anathema-Star of righteous power, Horus let a wave of psionic light fill the Chamber, scalding the Daemons and driving them back. The Astartes charged the howling Daemons and cut through the weakened neverborn. These great fiends of Khorne were cast back into the abyss easily, their connection to the warp muffled and expunged by the radiating light of the Primarch's weapon. The XVI Legion continued onwards, down the dark chamber. The Emperor's Light guiding their blades and bolts against the Neverborn who dared stand against the Imperium of Mankind.

From the moment they stepped on Luna, the sickening sensation of Warp Taint had been felt in the Astartes souls.. Describing it in mortal words, like all Warp phenomena, was not quite possible. A member of the ancient Sigillite order came close though with this description: "Imagine the smell of rotten flesh and the sharp feeling of breathing in bitterly cold air. Now combine those feelings along with the instinctual revulsion a mortal feels upon seeing an atrocity. Such as cannibalism, mutilation, rape, pointless butchery or worse. Then instead of feeling it like you would a sensory input it suddenly exists unprompted in your mind."

The Hypno-Indoctrination that helped make the Emperor's Angels Superhuman protected them from this to a degree. Where mortal soldiers would have become sick and panicked they were simply annoyed. They were his Space Marines and they knew no fear. That would hold true, but as the oppressive aura of Taint worsened the deeper the XVI Legion went. Slowly but surely, they started to feel the gut-wrenching wrongness that was coming from within Luna.

This was best seen as they reached the end of the long and blood soaked hallway. A great adamantium door capped the end of the hallway. The foul sensation of corruption oozed off of it. So thick and vile it was almost visible to even the most psychically deaf Battle-Brothers. Beyond was the Heart of Darkness. Where the Chaos ritual that unleashed the Warp-Horror on Sol had been performed. The Holy of Holies, the Creed of Four Phases High Altar and Inner Sanctum, which in turn was built directly above the Warp-Rift that the God-Emperor had once sealed away. Truly a place of Chaotic power and evil.

The Astartes felt a vague sense of discomfort and apprehension as they marched closer and closer. The instinctual terror that would reduce any mortal to fouling their undergarments and losing their sanity had little grip on the Transhumans. The Armor of Contempt held strong but an ancient animal-voice in the back of each Astartes mind whispered to them "Whatever is beyond that door can, and will kill you"

Still they had a duty. To fight and die for mankind. So when Horus Lupercali gave the order for them to blast the door down and charge into whatever awaited they obeyed.