2nd Primarch

Most people stereotype Khorne believers as mindless, reckless brutes, but this is far from true. In fact, the Lord of Skulls despises reliance on powers outside one's own capabilities. For instance, sorcerers who borrow psychic energy from the Warp are seen as utterly weak in his eyes.

Technological achievements, however, are a manifestation of mortal strength and skill. Khorne values invention and innovation, respects those who steal and master techniques, and admires the work of technical experts and brilliant minds. Guns, explosives, and even massive "mushroom bombs" are celebrated as tools of mortal power. The tireless efforts of scientists who develop weapons are viewed as tributes to Khorne's ethos.

Top scientists of various races, driven to create instruments of death, are natural candidates for Khorne's favor. These individuals could have dedicated their talents to enriching life, alleviating hunger and poverty, or curing diseases. Instead, they chose the path of bloodshed and destruction—a profound act of devotion to the Blood God. Their relentless pursuit of lethality, whether through blades or firearms, embodies mortal potential fully unleashed.

To Khorne, this technological creativity far surpasses the cowardice of drawing upon alien or mystical powers, only to conjure a fireball like a spineless weakling.

This acceptance of technology has made the Khorne daemon fleet the Chaos fleet with the most diverse daemon engines and advanced weapon systems.

On the Space Battlefield

Dukel recognized the challenge posed by the Khorne daemon fleet. Despite the expedition fleet's cutting-edge firepower, it struggled to secure a decisive advantage in a straightforward exchange of firepower.

Without hesitation, Dukel resorted to a tactic emblematic of Warhammer 40k's chaotic grandeur: ramming and boarding.

Equipped with both conventional energy shields and a potent mind matrix force field, the expedition fleet was designed for such brutal, head-on assaults. Amid the roaring salvoes of macro-cannons and lance batteries, the flagship Soulfire led the charge, shredding smaller daemon frigates with relentless barrages before plowing straight into the Khorne fleet in a sharp arrow formation.

"What is that human Primarch thinking?"

Aboard the Khorne daemon fleet, captains cursed and scrambled to reposition.

"Has ten millennia of stasis turned his brain to mush? He's charging us head-on at full speed!"

Their strategy had assumed the Imperial fleet would retreat into a defensive formation, erecting protective force fields to brace against the ambush. Slowly, the daemon fleet would cut them off, trap them within the web of Chaos, and annihilate them.

That was the plan, the tried-and-true method that had shattered countless Imperial fleets before.

But now?

"After one round of firing, they're already ramming us?!"

Watching the Soulfire—a 30-kilometer-long behemoth—barrel toward them at sublight speed, blasting through frigates like kindling, the daemon captains knew retreat was impossible.

"Advance! Charge! To hell with the consequences!"

The daemon flagship's engines roared, and the Khorne fleet surged forward in a reckless countercharge.

The void erupted into chaos as macro-cannon fire, torpedoes, and plasma blasts painted the starfield in a deadly light show. Interception beams detonated munitions mid-flight, and shields flared under the onslaught. Warships exploded in fiery bursts, scattering debris and bodies into the void.

Finally, the fleets collided.

Boarding the Daemon Flagship

With a thunderous crash, Soulfire's massive golden ramming horn tore through the Chaos flagship's shields and hull, carving a 10-kilometer gash that nearly split the vessel in two.

Dukel himself leapt from the Imperial ship's prow onto the ruined deck of the Chaos flagship, landing with a deafening impact. His massive form crushed the steel plating beneath his feet. He marched forward, chainsword in hand, his guards close behind.

The interior of the Khorne flagship was a grim testament to its allegiance: brass and blood-red walls adorned with skulls, both human and xenos. Corpses—some barely recognizable as human—were fused into the walls by dark sorcery, their tortured faces twisted in agony.

Some whispered for mercy.

Dukel offered it swiftly. With a grim expression, he nodded to his warriors, who delivered swift and final blows with their chainswords, freeing the unfortunate souls from their torment.

Suddenly, a section of the wall exploded inward.

Cultists surged forth, their bodies pierced with brass spikes and adorned with macabre decorations of skulls and chains. Behind them, Khorne daemons emerged from the shadows, roaring bloodthirsty war cries.

The Imperial soldiers answered with a torrent of fire. Grenades tore through the ranks of heretics, and chainswords hummed as they cleaved through daemon flesh.

Amid the carnage, Dukel led the charge, his burning chainsword cutting down heretics like wheat before a scythe. His indomitable fury and strength drove him forward, each swing of his blade ending another enemy.

The corridor became a blood-soaked battleground. Demonic armor, once infused with the power of the Warp, crumbled under the relentless advance of the Imperials.

When the last heretic fell, Dukel and his warriors pressed on toward the flagship's core, where the daemon champion awaited.

The Final Duel

In the flagship's core, a Khorne champion stood, clutching a massive daemon blade. The weapon pulsed with malevolent energy, its embedded daemon whispering hymns of slaughter to its wielder.

The air crackled with tension as the champion roared a challenge. Dukel accepted, his chainsword igniting with righteous fury.

The clash between the two titans would determine not only the fate of the battle but also the legacy of those who stood on either side of the eternal war.