Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

Inside the Daxos Gloria, the Knight King watched feed after feed streaming from defense nodes across the planet.

At Defense Node A-15, hundreds of Blue-Horned Unicorn Rhinoceros split into five formations and charged at the Endurance.

Their thundering gallop made the earth tremble.

The horns of the four giant beasts at the forefront of the herd glowed with a dazzling blue light, slashing through the air before crashing into the Endurance's metallic shell with howling force.

Campbell felt the ancient machine spirit's roar of fury and anguish.

"My lord… requesting reinforcements—"

Before the knight could finish speaking, he abruptly fell unconscious. The comm channel fell into silence.

From the shaky footage, Campbell knew the white-horned beast had launched a psychic attack.

The knight's will had failed to resist the mental assault, plunging him into unconsciousness.

At this moment, only the presence of another knight could save him.

But the Knight King no longer had enough operational knight suits to form standard combat teams, one veteran leading two juniors. He had no choice but to scatter his knights across the defensive nodes, hoping the beast tide would not be too large.

In the shaky footage, he saw the towering beasts surging toward the Endurance like a tidal wave. The ancient knight suit was crushed in an instant.

'After this battle, how many Knights will remain?'

Campbell's heart sank.

His brown eyes flicked to other tactical screens, where he spotted the despicable, diminutive abhumans.

They chattered noisily, emerging from their hidden rat holes as they always did during harvest season, looting and pillaging while the knights were occupied.

Seeing this, Campbell knew he could do nothing to stop those vermin.

Fighting the beast tide already demanded everything he had.

Even if they drove the beasts back at great cost, the Ratling would strip everything bare, serfs, property, even the knights' castles.

Now, he had only one choice: to seek help from the Primarch before him.

After a brief hesitation, the Knight King cast aside his pride. He stood and spoke earnestly.

"The scale of this beast tide far exceeds anything we've faced before."

"Daxos needs aid. I ask you, Commander of the Eleventh Legion of the Imperium of Man, to dispatch your warriors. Vextrix will remember all you do for us."

He paused, then added a concrete promise:

"After this… Vextrix will sign an alliance with you."

"I will aid you," Nareth said, his tone brooking no argument, his gaze profound. "And I will also win the duel to come. You will swear fealty to me."

Campbell had no time to argue. Urgently, he replied,

"Then, please mobilize your Legion at once."

"They have already been deployed."

Nareth raised his hand and pointed at the sky.

The Knight King followed his gesture and saw countless black dots against the azure expanse.

They grew larger, revealing dark hulls.

Warriors of the Eleventh Legion descended from the heavens. Compared to the scarce number of knight suits, the Legion's warriors were vast in number.

Aside from the four fully replenished companies of the 3rd Chapter, there were also twenty thousand Astartes yet to be distributed to other chapters.

Every ten Shadows of Order formed a squad, marching in perfect unison toward the beast tide.

One synchronized volley of gunfire cleared vast swaths of the battlefield.

Any Shadows of Order hit by psychic attacks were immediately aided by a combat brother.

Blessed with their gene-father's superhuman perception, the Shadows of Order locked onto fleeing ratlings, charging forward and cleaving them down with chain swords, deeming the filthy abhumans unworthy of even wasting a single explosive round.

Across the battlefield, stunned Knights watched in awe as the black-armored warriors annihilated both monsters and ratlings, threats they had struggled with for generations.

Within one hour of the Shadows of Order joining the battle, the tide had turned.

From desperate defense to a balanced engagement, and then swiftly to a one-sided pursuit.

Nareth reviewed the battlefield reports.

He was satisfied, his warriors were enacting his doctrine: calm, precise, and lethal.

Even the First Company under Samir, once stubborn, has now maintained its formation, influenced by the new Legion culture.

Nareth activated his vox communicator and gave an order to Tierney.

"The hands of the Ratlings make for fine trophies."

The thieving Ratlings' hands were a primary ingredient for the Sequence 9 "Marauder" potion.

Knowing that collecting those filthy, feeble hands would be demeaning for honor-bound Astartes, Nareth did not force the task upon his sons.

"As you wish," Tierney answered without hesitation, immediately leading his scout platoon out.

At the battlefield's edge, they spotted a Ratling tribe of several hundred fleeing into the farmlands.

"Open fire!"

The Scouts raised their rifles.

Blinding light and arcs of electricity struck down over a hundred Ratlings.

Panicked, the abhumans turned and returned fire.

Despite their thievery, ratlings were natural sharpshooters, rolling nimbly on the ground, raising stolen guns of varying quality, and firing smoothly.

Dozens of Vostroyan auxiliaries were hit, but the bullets merely bounced harmlessly off their black carapace armor.

The ratmen's crude weapons posed no threat to the well-equipped scouts.

The Vostroyan warriors returned fire with precision, sniping down the small figures crouching in the fields.

Realizing their weapons were useless while their enemies matched their marksmanship, the Ratlings' morale shattered.

After one last envious glance at the enemy's superior gear, they scattered in all directions.

"Pursue them!"

Tierney ordered, and the scouts launched precise strikes on the fleeing ratlings. Only a few dozen lucky ones escaped.

When the battle ended, Tierney drew his combat knife, already sword-sized for most humans.

Over comms, the platoon commander gave a grim order:

"Cut off their hands."

Tierney crouched before a ratling corpse and used his blade to sever its thieving little hand, which had stolen countless valuables.

At the same time, the Knight King received a report from the newly arrived Sacred Mars: the beast tide and the vile ratmen had been crushed and were now in pursuit of the remaining Blue-Horned Rhinoceros.

Shocked, Campbell turned to Nareth.

He realized the Eleventh Legion possessed not only mighty warships capable of warp travel but also tens of thousands of black-armored warriors.

Though not as powerful as Knights individually, their numbers were over a hundredfold greater.

Even at its peak, House Vexstrix could never withstand such might.

If Nareth wished, he could slaughter every knight, including Campbell himself.

Terror gripped the Knight King… but then, the voices of his ancestors echoed in his mind:

"Do not fear, Campbell. A Knight King of Vextrix fears no enemy."

"Indeed. He's already accepted the duel. If we win, we remain independent."

"…"

Campbell found his courage again.

'Yes… all that mattered was winning the duel.'

.....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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