Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

The Ogryns surged forward with clubs, hammers, and other crude weapons.

In their simple minds, bigger meant stronger. The largest among them, hundreds of hulking brutes wielding iron mauls from the heart of the camp, surged toward the most conspicuous target, Nareth.

The Primarch raised his left arm and took aim at one of the charging Ogryns' heads, pulling the trigger.

Standard propellant ejected the bolt-round from the barrel before its rocket booster ignited, accelerating it to lethal velocity.

The adamantine-tipped projectile, designed to penetrate armor before detonation, punched through the Ogryn's unprotected skull like a knife through butter.

BOOM.

The fuse ignited and half of the Ogryn's upper body vanished as if swallowed whole by a ravenous beast.

Fifteen more Ogryns rushed Nareth.

The Primarch drew his power sword with his right hand, activated the energy field, and chose not to brute-force his way through, but instead demonstrate refined killing techniques to his sons.

He used, Otsberg-Vaya Form 16, unleashing fifteen precise thrusts in a flash.

The Shadows of Order, who had inherited his heightened senses, tracked his movements.

Each strike pierced an Ogryn's throat. The warriors began to grasp something deeper.

More Ogryns swarmed Nareth. In their tiny minds, numbers could crush giants, no matter how large.

But Nareth felt no pressure from these so-called elite Ogryns, not even enough to justify using his Briber ability.

While slaughtering them, his focus shifted to his Fourth Company, observing their performance.

Moments later, his brow furrowed.

He noticed something wrong with a squad guarding the leftmost Malcador tank.

After four volleys of bolt pistol fire, Ogryn corpses littered the ground, blood pooling around them, the stench of gore heavy in the air.

Nareth noticed that the eyes of the ten-man squad were beginning to flush red.

He zoomed in on one marine and saw his pupils dilating, blood slowly spreading into his irises.

The marine sniffed the air, savoring the blood's scent, a look of craving emerging on his face.

His ears twitched in rhythm with the chainsword's roar, the frequency gradually syncing.

'This… could this be the downside of heightened perception?'

Nareth's mind raced.

'The 11th Legion was erased from all records. It must've committed a grievous crime.

I've seen no signs of genetic flaws in them… so perhaps the root lies in the effects of their sensitivity. Judging by what I'm seeing, I can draw a theory: As the killing continues, the 11th Legion's warriors, due to their acute perception, have their bloodlust triggered and intensified, eventually becoming uncontrollable.'

He broadened his perception, now focusing on the entire squad.

Within his Warp Insight, he saw their bloodlust intertwining, resonating like musical notes, amplifying each other in a feedback loop.

Nareth understood instantly:

'They don't just sense the environment or enemies, they also sense their fellow brothers. Sensing each other's bloodlust heightens their own urge to kill. This escalates across the whole.'

At that moment, the Reavers he had been observing let out an excited roar, broke formation, and charged the nearest Ogryn.

Disappointment flickered in Nareth's eyes; his theory was confirmed.

'It's highly likely that this very flaw, their extreme perceptiveness, corrupted the original 11th Primarch and Legion, leading to their punishment.'

As Nareth reflected, more marines broke ranks, each surrendering to bloodlust, scattering across the battlefield.

The entire Company devolved into chaos.

Nareth was deeply disappointed in his sons' discipline, but he would not abandon them.

He threw his head back and let out an earth-shaking roar.

This was the Sequence 8 Beyonder Ability. It didn't stun the Astartes with their superhuman physiques, but it jolted their minds, momentarily dampening their bloodlust.

His commanding voice echoed through the comms:

"Control yourselves. Do not let bloodlust control you."

The voice resounded inside each marine's helmet.

The Reavers he had been watching, the one about to crash into an Ogryn, regained clarity in his eyes just before contact.

Nareth's dim gaze brightened slightly.

Though the marine was outmatched in brute force, he didn't try to meet the Ogryn's attack head-on.

Even with his combat instincts raging, the Primarch's earlier command had left a mark.

The marine instinctively identified the Ogryn's exposed armpit as the weak point after its swing.

He twisted his right arm sharply and brought the chainsword down on the vulnerable spot.

Brrrr!

The whirring chain teeth carved through the armpit, across the neck, and exited at the opposite shoulder.

Nareth nodded in satisfaction. More importantly, he saw that the squad leader had not abandoned the rogue warrior.

He directed eight other Reavers to form a new combat formation around him.

Meanwhile, Adams, leading his honor guard, was also monitoring the battlefield.

He noticed the change in the Company.

Previously, the Reapers could only maintain discipline at the start of a fight.

As the slaughter escalated, bloodlust always overpowered reason, and they would break ranks in a killing frenzy.

Most battles ended not in victory, but when there was no one left to kill. Reapers never took prisoners.

They were the Emperor's Angels of Death, Horus's butcher's blade.

But now, everything had changed.

The Primarch's commands were like shackles on their minds, or perhaps a guiding light burning in their hearts.

None of them wanted to disappoint him.

And so, they held onto a sliver of reason.

They began to re-establish tactical coordination.

The Scorpion Tail Squad was the first to synchronize. Two Reavers alternated their bolt pistol fire, one facing forward left, the other forward right.

They covered each other, absorbing enemy blows, while the rest of the squad struck from the flanks.

The Ogryns, too dim to react in time, were slaughtered before they could strike back.

Other squad leaders, seeing the simplicity and effectiveness of Scorpion Tail's tactics, began to follow suit.

Within moments, the entire Fourth Company had regained order.

Adams resumed full command, issuing orders aloud:

"Scorpion Squad, shift to 3 o'clock."

"Wasp Squad, draw enemy fire at 1 o'clock.

"…"

With order restored, the Fourth Company swiftly concluded the battle.

Nareth watched his gene-sons with a rare look of approval:

"My sons, you have made me proud. I've seen a change in you, one that fills me with hope."

The Shadows of Order heard his words and felt a surge of invisible power flow into them.

They felt different, stronger.

As the Fourth Company secured the battlefield, Nareth discovered the source of the Ogryns' food within the encampment.

...

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

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