Not long after, the corpse-littered lands of the Bloodstained Plains trembled with deep, echoing rumbles.
Eighty-eight colossal steel bulls, clad in thick, crimson war armor, were expertly ridden by the Bloodletters, forming the infamous Blood-Grinder Cavalry as they launched a terrifying charge toward you.
Countless fears were crushed beneath the relentless iron hooves, painting a path of blood and shattered flesh that scattered like petals in the wind.
You and Draigo simultaneously raised your Storm Bolters.
For the first time, the deafening roar of explosive rounds echoed across Khorne's domain.
Your cyan wolf-like eyes narrowed in cold calculation as you fired precise shots at the Bloodletters atop their steel beasts.
Draigo's explosive rounds burned with psychic flames—each shot igniting a massive steel bull, forcing its demonic mount into agonized howls.
The razor-sharp vanguard of the Blood-Grinder Cavalry closed in rapidly.
Even the scattered corpses littering the battlefield seemed to tremble at the quaking of their ironclad charge.
Fragments of skeletal remains and shattered bones began to shift, as if shadows of the dead were stirring in the wake of rising terror.
With a thunderous crash, a heavy ammunition crate dropped from one of your servo-arms, smashing a heap of rotting skulls into dust.
You didn't hesitate—your Storm Bolter clicked dry, and as you lifted it, your servo-arm swiftly reloaded it with fresh magazines.
At that moment, a riderless steel bull, now berserk, barreled toward you.
Your instincts took over—you activated Iron Carapace and sidestepped, while your other hand brought up the Axe of Khorne to intercept.
The terrifying axe blade sliced effortlessly through the steel beast's thick crimson armor, cleaving its massive body in half with a single strike.
Draigo, his expression solemn, raised the Sword of Vengeance high.
With a surge of psychic energy, a towering wall of warp-fire erupted from the ground, forcefully cutting off the Blood-Grinder Cavalry's charge.
You adjusted Iron Hand's firing mode and squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
A relentless barrage of explosive rounds tore into every Blood-Grinder Cavalry unit attempting to breach the wall of psychic flames.
Your servo-arm worked tirelessly, feeding fresh ammunition into your Storm Bolter without pause.
At this moment, it was no longer just a weapon—it had become a heavy-duty suppression gun, pouring relentless fire into the enemy ranks.
Through the flawless coordination between you and Draigo, the once-unstoppable cavalry charge was brutally halted and slaughtered to the last.
However, the battle was far from over.
Eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight Bloodletters, wielding Hellblades, advanced relentlessly. Alongside them, frenzied Blood Reapers—Khorne-worshipping cultists—let out guttural war cries as they encircled you.
You swiftly assessed the battlefield and made a critical decision.
"Draigo! We need to stay mobile! We can't let them trap us!" you shouted to your stern-faced comrade.
Draigo's deep-set eyes flickered with understanding as he nodded firmly.
Without delay, you extended one of your servo-arms, grabbing both your Storm Bolter and the heavy ammunition crate from the ground.
The two of you broke into a run, maneuvering toward the enemy's flank.
One of your servo-arms took control of the Storm Bolter's trigger, and the thunderous roar of bolter fire filled the battlefield once more.
With ruthless efficiency, you swung the Axe of Khorne.
Eight Blood Reapers, their bare torsos adorned with ox-horned helmets, were cleaved apart in mere moments.
Meanwhile, monstrous Flesh Hounds emerged from the tide of daemonic bodies, lunging at you with razor-sharp fangs.
You crushed them with your black-armored fists, while your servo-arm continued its relentless suppression fire.
Behind you, Draigo wielded his Sword of Vengeance like a divine executioner—each swing carving through hordes of Khorne's minions. Every time he raised his heavy Storm Shield, it shattered a group of Blood Reapers caught in its path.
Yet, despite your efforts, the number of daemons around you showed no signs of dwindling. In fact, they only seemed to multiply.
Eight Gorefiends, towering monstrosities, entered the fray, guided by Khorne's Heralds as they steadily gained on you.
You preemptively unleashed a volley of explosive rounds, tearing through the Heralds before they could close the distance.
Draigo seized the opportunity, conjuring searing psychic flames that consumed the Gorefiends, forcing them into a berserk frenzy.
Driven into a mindless rage, the beasts turned against their own allies—crushing Bloodletters and Blood Reapers alike under their massive limbs, drenching the battlefield in gore.
Taking advantage of the chaos, you and Draigo widened the gap between yourselves and the enemy vanguard.
Draigo, his Aegis Armor gleaming, rushed to your side.
"Khorne wouldn't send mere cannon fodder to stop us… A greater daemon must be approaching. This army's only purpose is to slow us down," Draigo stated grimly.
You swept your wolf-like gaze over the still-chaotic battlefield.
A single glance was enough to confirm Draigo's assessment.
Without hesitation, you sprinted toward the depths of the Bloodstained Plains.
You had to cross them to reach the passage Draigo knew—your only path forward.
Just then, within the tide of daemonic flesh, a Blood Throne shifted as its occupant took notice of your movement.
A Herald of Khorne, its eyes burning with rage, bellowed a command.
Instantly, a fresh wave of Flesh Hounds burst from the frontlines, hunting you down at breakneck speed.
Without looking back, you fired precise, relentless bursts from your Storm Bolter, striking down your pursuers.
But as time passed, the skies above the Bloodstained Plains began to churn with an ominous storm.
The crimson heavens darkened further, heralding an unknown catastrophe.
You had no time to investigate.
A Flesh Hound, somehow evading your gunfire, lunged at you from behind.
In an instant, two of your servo-arms discarded their ammunition crates and extended, tearing the beast apart mid-air.
Scalding daemon blood splattered against your Iron Carapace, but not a single stain remained.
Just as the Flesh Hound's corpse fell—
A blade wreathed in crimson flames, its surface lined with jagged fangs from guard to tip, plummeted from the sky, ringing with an ominous metallic clang.
Instinctively, you turned your head.
Your cyan wolf-eyes widened in shock.
The daemonic sword embedded in the ground… moved.
With a will of its own, it suddenly leapt into the air—and flew straight into your open palm.
In that instant, a towering pillar of blood-red light erupted toward the sky.
All across the battlefield, Khorne's legions froze in place.
One by one, the daemons kneeled before the crimson radiance, chanting in frenzied devotion.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
Far away, in the deepest recesses of Khorne's domain, atop an ancient brass throne resting upon endless mountains of skulls, a deep, guttural chuckle briefly echoed.
Khorne: "Mine! Mine! All of it is mine!"