2nd Primarch

The planet Nanlis was once a fertile human world, adorned with towering buildings. It was home to countless human families and boasted advancements in fields such as medicine, art, and technology.

Now, only devastated ruins remain.

Every object here bore traces of human emotions. As Dukel stepped over a broken piece of furniture in the city ruins, he noticed it was a mahogany wardrobe, carved with intricate patterns unique to this world—patterns he had never seen before.

The Primarch could almost hear the echoes of the laughter and happiness the wardrobe had once witnessed. Now, all that lingered was the despair and wails of those who had perished.

Countless such relics of the past lay scattered throughout the ruins, each one stirring his rage.

Dukel pressed on, his wrath manifesting in brutal precision as he slaughtered every demon in his path.

"Perhaps he's trying to mask something with this behavior?" mused the Champion of Khorne, leader of the World Eaters contingent.

For a moment, his thoughts felt unusually lucid—like a flicker of intelligence piercing the haze of bloodlust.

But such clarity was fleeting.

"No, there's no point trying to figure him out! Kill him!" The Champion roared, his voice a guttural command. "Team One, pursue the Space Marines that escaped. The rest of you—focus on the one before us! Offer his skull to the Brass Throne and please the Blood God!"

To the followers of Khorne, Dukel's death was paramount.

The retreating Space Marines were irrelevant by comparison, though they were battered and near exhaustion. A fatal wound meant little for them; once back at the defense line, they could recover and return to the battlefield stronger.

"Yes, Lord!"

A squad of demons on the periphery immediately broke away to pursue the fleeing Space Marines.

Seeing this, Dukel paused mid-strike. "Where are you going, cowards?!" he bellowed. "Have Khorne's followers learned to run?!"

His taunts fell on deaf ears as the squadron ignored him and vanished into the distance. But Dukel wasn't one to let prey escape so easily.

"Don't think you can run just because you're out of range!" he sneered. With a surge of psychic strength, he hoisted a massive slab of reinforced concrete from the ruins—its surface burning with ethereal flames—and hurled it skyward like a missile.

The demons looked up. "What the—?!"

The fiery projectile struck with the force of a meteor, slamming into the squad with a deafening BOOM. Smoke and dust erupted, enveloping the battlefield.

"Another!" Dukel declared, lifting another chunk of debris.

The Khorne Champion twitched with frustration.

"What in the Warp is this?!"

"Don't lose focus!" snapped another Champion, his eyes glinting with a rare spark of intelligence. "I think I know who he is. There were rumors of a Primarch's resurrection… Could it be him?"

"Resurrected?" The other Champion scowled, straining to recall the Blood God's distant oracles. "If it's him, then…"

The realization struck like lightning.

"If this is a Primarch, then we have a greater prize before us! Forget the others—kill him first!"

The promise of such a trophy ignited their fervor. Killing a Primarch would not only honor Khorne but also elevate them in his favor.

The Champion hurled his blood-red spear, blessed by Khorne himself. Though Khorne's followers favored melee combat, they weren't entirely devoid of strategy. The spear tore through the air with a thunderous sonic boom, aimed straight for Dukel's unprotected face.

But Dukel was unfazed.

"Hah! Is that the best you've got?" he taunted, dodging with a tilt of his head. The spear grazed his cheek, leaving only a faint white scratch.

With a roar of defiance, he charged forward, hammer in hand. Each strike of his war hammer sent blood and viscera flying, the raw power amplified by his power gloves.

Even the hardened Khorne demons faltered.

"How is his body this strong?!"

"My spear could pierce a Titan's hull, but it barely scratched him!"

The demons regrouped.

"Don't panic! We can still kill him," the Champion snarled. They adjusted their tactics, sending weaker demons to harass Dukel and distract him while the more powerful champions waited for an opening.

Finally, the moment came.

A Khorne Champion saw an opportunity and seized it. With a savage cry, he swung his axe—blessed by Khorne to cut through even the toughest armor—at Dukel's exposed flank.

Victory seemed assured.

But the axe halted mid-swing, stopped by an unseen force. The translucent glow of a psychic field enveloped Dukel, repelling both the physical attack and the Chaos energy imbued in the weapon.

The Champion froze, stunned.

"What… what is this?!"

Dukel smirked, his hand shooting out to grab the Champion's head.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "This psychic barrier really comes in handy during combat."

With a sickening CRUNCH, he crushed the demon's skull like a ripe fruit.

The battlefield fell silent for a heartbeat before Dukel turned to face the remaining demons, his eyes blazing with contempt and unrelenting fury.

"Now," he growled, "who's next?"