In the real universe, the entire solar system has been smashed into pieces.

Saturn's methane oceans boil in psychic storms.

The horn of Chaos Magnus pierced the veil of reality, and the foul energies of the Warp poured down like a waterfall.

His red skin is covered with ever-changing Tzeentch runes, and every breath he takes spews out sparks of psionic energy that warp reality.

The ice field beneath your feet is mutating. Methane crystals are growing into blasphemous geometric shapes, turning an area of ​​hundreds of miles into a chaotic realm.

"For the Emperor!"

A flash of purple lightning split the scarlet sky, and Fulgrim's arrival was like a work of art. His perfect power boots touched the half-melted ice surface, and every step created ring-shaped energy ripples.

Behind him were three hundred of the Emperor's Children's most elite warriors, their purple-gold armor still retaining its noble color in the chaotic aura, like violets blooming in the mud.

"boom!"

The shock wave generated by the collision of two Primarch-level energies swept across the battlefield.

The crystal armor of the Thousand Sons wizards shattered in the resonance, but the power swords of the Emperor's Children made a clear sound.

Fulgrim's blade drew seven perfect arcs, each strike precisely piercing the throat of a Chaos sorcerer.

"Stab it!"

The sound of the molecular disintegration force field tearing flesh is like tearing silk.

The three Thousand Sons Ruby Warriors collapsed simultaneously, their ruby ​​armor like thin ice in front of the Pride of the Phoenix.

Fulgrim's movements were as graceful as a sword dance, but every turn brought a rain of blood.

His white hair fluttered in the turbulence of psychic energy, and like a living thing, it wrapped around the neck of an attacker and strangled him to death.

"We were brothers once, Fulgrim."

The voice of Chaos Magnus came from all directions, each syllable carrying a bewitching ripple of psychic energy.

His single eye opened in the void, and countless possibilities of depravity were reflected in his pupil. "Join us and become a member of the power of Chaos..."

Fulgrim responded with a thrust.

The tip of his sword broke the sound barrier in one thousandth of a second, and the blade with purifying power was only millimeters away from Magnus' throat.

The Fallen Primarch had to stop bewitching and use psychic power to teleport a hundred meters away.

“You are not Magnus.” Fulgrim’s voice was as cold as absolute zero. He shook his wrist slightly, and the blood of Chaos stained on the blade was thrown out in a perfect semicircle. “You are just a heretic with the same name as him.”

The battlefield was strangely still at this moment. The Emperor's Children warriors spontaneously formed a circle, surrounding the two Primarchs in the center.

The Thousand Sons sorcerers retreated behind Magnus of Chaos, their crystal staffs striking the ground at an eerie resonant frequency.

A trace of anger flashed in Magnus's single eye. He raised his giant claw inlaid with sapphires, and the energy of the warp condensed into a swirling flame of Tzeentch in his palm. "What a pity..." The fallen primarch sighed and mixed with the roar of the demon, "You could have been the most perfect masterpiece..."

A psychic storm suddenly erupted. Millions of blue lightning bolts struck from the void, each one aimed precisely at Fulgrim's vital points.

The Primarch of the Emperor's Children seemed to have foreseen the trajectories of all the attacks. His dodging movements were like a choreographed ballet, and every time he turned sideways, the lightning just happened to pass by his armor.

"Your tricks are still so uncreative." Fulgrim strolled through the lightning storm, the blade of Phoenix Pride beginning to glow purple. "Let me show you what true art is."

He suddenly accelerated, and the Primarch's super-speed reaction made time seem to freeze.

The psychic barrier that Magnus hastily built shattered in front of the Pride of Phoenix like butter cut by a hot knife.

The fallen Primarch had to teleport once more, but this time Fulgrim's blade had predicted where it would land - the tip of the blade slashed across Magnus' waist, stirring up a cloud of blood mixed with psychic sparks.

"Ah!" The Chaos Primarch's scream was like shattering glass. What spurted out of his injured waist was not blood, but the subspace energy that kept changing colors.

The flesh at the edge of the wound squirmed and grew a small demon face, which was quickly burned by the psychic power on the blade.

Fulgrim did not give his opponent a chance to breathe. His sword moves were like a storm, and every blow was aimed at the vital points.

Magnus was losing ground, and his psychic defenses were becoming more and more hasty.

At a certain moment, a trace of fear flashed in the fallen primarch's single eye - he saw the self that had never been corrupted in Fulgrim's eyes.

"Look, Magnus," Fulgrim's voice suddenly softened, as if he was trying to persuade a lost brother. "This is how we are meant to be."

His sword suddenly changed its direction, from a sophisticated thrust to a simple downward slash.

This sword condensed all the mercy and anger towards the fallen, and the purple light on the blade exploded into the shape of a phoenix.

Magnus's hastily raised psychic shield shattered like an eggshell as Fulgrim's weapon cut deep into his shoulder blade.

The Fallen Primarch fell to his knees on the melting ice, his blood staining the methane an eerie rainbow of colors.

The Thousand Sons wizards tried frantically to rescue them, but were suppressed by the firepower network of the Emperor's Children.

It seemed as if there were only two primarchs left on the entire battlefield, one standing straight as a javelin, the other kneeling like a broken doll.

Fulgrim's blade hovered in mid-air, the edge of Phoenix Pride just inches from Magnus' throat.

The purple-gold sword was dancing with purifying flames, burning the chaos runes wriggling on the fallen primarch's skin with a sizzling sound.

"Let me put an end to you..."

The voice of the Primarch of the Emperor's Children was like an icy sharp blade. He turned his wrist slightly, and the purple flame on the sword edge suddenly surged.

At this decisive moment of life and death, the ice beneath Fulgrim's feet suddenly trembled ominously.

click-

A spider-web-like crack spread across the ice field at an alarming speed.

Fulgrim's pupils suddenly contracted, and he was keenly aware of the evil energy surging under the ice.

This is different from ordinary vibrations. This is the wail of the entire planet's core being torn apart.

"Retreat! Everyone retreat!"

Fulgrim's warning echoed across the battlefield through the psychic resonance of the Primarchs.

There was a rare hint of urgency in his voice, which caused the Emperor's Children warriors who were fighting fiercely to immediately implement the strictest retreat discipline.

The well-trained Purple Legion quickly closed the battle line, and the covering fire from the grenade launchers formed a perfect retreat corridor.

The Primarch looked down at his feet, and through the increasingly widening cracks, he saw a horrifying sight.

Saturn's methane ocean was seen boiling, but not because of the heat, but because countless pale arms were extending from the liquid methane.

The arms were covered in twisted Tzeentch runes, and every finger had extra joints growing out of them.