Chapter 41: Blood Copper Claw

It is the eve of the harvest, the time to satisfy the hunger for slaughter.

It is also the time for Morinit to savor.

Looking out from the main observation window of the orbital station, a smile curled at the corners of his mouth, revealing the tips of his steel teeth and the massive brass Blood God brand upon his chest.

The wraiths in the void were smiling back.

He let his gaze drift behind that nightmare-like silhouette, focusing his eyes on the dark sphere shrouded by his shadow.

Ma'Kand II: a small planet, a mass of green and rugged rock on the edge of the太平 (Peace) Sector—a place easily forgotten, a place sufficient to satisfy the needs of the Blood Copper Claw Warband.

Morinit was once a captain in the elite third-line companies of the Twelfth Legion. They were once known as the War Hounds, bringing terror to their enemies on the battlefield with battle axes and ferocious assaults; they were unstoppable berserkers, and never-satisfied killers.

They were also once part of the Imperium of Man, sworn to loyalty to the Emperor and humanity, until their Primarch appeared.

Angron, the Primarch of the Twelfth Legion. After he was dragged from a slave planet by the Emperor, the former War Hounds vanished, leaving only the World Eaters, driven to madness by the Butcher's Nails.

Due to Angron's pathological hatred of the Emperor, they became among the first traitors to join when the Horus Heresy was launched.

Subsequently, they vented their murderous desires and madness upon Isstvan III, Isstvan V, Nuceria, and Terra. The World Eaters Legion even led the assault on the Imperial Palace, and it is said that one of their champions—Kharn, Captain of the Eighth Assault Company—was the first to breach the gap.

But as the Emperor killed Horus aboard the *Vengeful Spirit*, the flagship of the Sons of Horus, at a heavy cost, the traitors scattered like leaves in the wind, and the World Eaters were forced to retreat alongside the other traitor legions.

Following their defeat, the survivors fled into the Eye of Terror with the traitor legions.

As early as the Shadow Crusade, Angron had been ascended into a Daemon Prince by Khorne, the Blood God. Through the efforts of the high commanders of the World Eaters, they continued to operate in the form of a legion, but most of their warriors had turned to the Chaos Gods, becoming bloodthirsty Chaos Space Marines.

It was not until the fratricide triggered by Kharn that the entire legion finally splintered into countless warbands, marking the definitive end of the history of the World Eaters Legion.

Morinit had established his own path starting from that time. He raised a hundred-man warband, naming it the [Blood Copper Claw], and traveled through the Eye of Terror aboard a cruiser named the *Flesh Ravager*, acting as a mercenary for various factions in exchange for necessary supplies.

War in the Eye of Terror was as frequent as drinking water, but most of the time, he was able to lead his warband back in one piece.

However, not long ago, while assisting a group of Dark Mechanicum cultists in excavating a certain ruin, they were ambushed by a warband from the Third Legion. Their employers also betrayed them at the critical moment, resulting in the warband being utterly defeated, and even the *Flesh Ravager* was sunk.

In the end, only nine members, including himself, survived by taking an escape pod, but they had lost their operational strength; dying in the Warp was only a matter of time.

Yet, the Blood God did not seem to have abandoned them. At their moment of despair, an Imperial transport appeared. Its Geller Field seemed to have malfunctioned, meaning Morinit went completely undetected when he steered the life pod close.

By the time they boarded the transport, the heavily damaged vessel had just repaired its Geller Field and was unable to offer any resistance.

Morinit did not kill too many people, as they needed someone to pilot the ship. Subsequently, over an unknown period of time, they turned most of the people on board into Chaos cultists and extracted a crucial piece of information from them.

On Ma'Kand II, there was a Sword-class frigate nearing the completion of its repairs.

This was vital information. Although they had gained a temporary foothold, Morinit never thought he could rebuild his strength with just a transport; he needed at least a frigate.

Though a powerful desire drove him to rush to Ma'Kand II to seize that frigate, Morinit analyzed the situation with great composure.

First, his warband had suffered heavy losses; there were only nine Space Marines left, including himself, and all they possessed was a transport.

The enemy, however, held a complete orbital defense station, manufactured and controlled by the Mechanicum. If they charged directly, the probability of being ground into dust halfway there was 100%.

Since victory could not be achieved through space combat, the key question became how to board the orbital station.

Morinit was not a man skilled in deep thought, especially with the Butcher's Nails constantly interfering with his mind, but on the precipice of his warband's destruction, he forced himself to devise a scheme.

Lure the enemy onto the ship first, then seize their landing craft, and then use that landing craft to rapidly enter the orbital station.

He was gambling—betting that the enemy's defense systems would not activate that quickly, betting that they would provide their landing craft with a security code, and betting that the Imperials there were not very bright.

Then, under the favor of the Blood God, he bet correctly.

The spoils to follow would be immensely bountiful!

"Blood for the Blood God!"

Not far away, a Khorne Berzerker was dismembering a man wearing legion uniform, using his thick blood to paint blasphemous words and symbols upon the wall.

Given the warband's hunger for new victims, it was understandable.

Even Morinit himself felt a shiver crawl up his spine at the thought of those screams.

However, although they had seized a portion of the orbital station, the situation had not undergone a decisive change. Slaughter was an enjoyable pastime, but such a pastime was currently optional.

The orbital station's spaceport was where they needed to go.

As he thought, Morinit felt a sharp, meaty pain inside his skull.

He indulged the sensation, imagining the teeth of a combat blade slicing deep.

The Butcher's Nails—the curse and blessing of the World Eaters, brought to the legion by their Primarch Angron. In essence, they were neural implants that provided intense stimulation to the victim's brain; only blood and slaughter could alleviate this stimulation.

Some said the fate of the World Eaters' fall began with the Butcher's Nails; Morinit remained noncommittal on the matter.

Suddenly, the terrifying silence was broken by a sound—the shrill ring of an old alarm.

"What happened?"

Morinit withdrew his gaze from the distance and turned toward the horrific slaughterhouse. Thousands of mangled corpses carpeted the floor, and eight crimson giants stood amidst the mountains of flesh and seas of blood, mist billowing from the grilles of their helmets with every breath.

Every World Eater was adorned with skulls and heads, as if they were trophies of honor.

"The weak Imperials intend to separate us from them."

A World Eater wrenched his battle axe from a victim's gaping chest, bringing forth a spray of thick blood and viscera.

"They shall not have their way."

Morinit knew well the importance of time. The Imperials had many choices; they could even choose to blow up the frigate or wait for ground support from the Mechanicum.

Whichever they chose, it would be extremely disadvantageous to them.

Thus, they immediately moved toward the center of the orbital station, killing incessantly along the way.

Before the victims had even finished falling to the bloody floor, the Chaos Space Marines were already charging toward the station's control hub.

Upon the guarded building, a set of void teleporter spires reached toward the sky, surrounded by crackling energy rods and upright teleportation nodes.

From a distance, an officer was racing against time to operate the circular lock of the south-facing blast door of the central hub.

"Blood for the Blood God!"

Morinit, wearing a helmet styled after the Blood God's crown, let out a terrifying war cry. The officer was so startled by the roar that he stumbled and lost his bearings; then, a World Eater descended upon him, his gauntlet piercing the man's skull and gripping his spine.

Then, like pulling a radish from the earth, he ripped the pale bone and clinging viscera straight out of the cavity.

"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!!"

(End of Chapter)