The towering monstrosity, nearly a hundred meters long, bore a grotesque resemblance to countless Tyranids. Thousands of ancient, gleaming eyes radiated a terrifying, unknowable wisdom. The moment Dukel met its gaze, he felt his insignificance. Compared to the ageless intellect that spanned eons, even a Primarch was but a mere child.
It emanated a power potent enough to shatter the minds of mortals. The Hive Mind's grasp over the galaxy was suffused with an ancient and terrible intelligence—yet beneath it all, insatiable greed and boundless hunger pulsed at its core, an eternal curse upon its being.
As Dukel fought, his heightened perception allowed him to glimpse the will lurking within the hive. In the clash of their minds, a grim understanding formed between them.
At that moment, he saw past the abomination's hideous form—he pitied it.
Like an ancient and inescapable curse, even the most powerful beings of the universe could not escape their own nature. Gods and monstrosities alike, no matter their past glories, their legendary sagas, or the strength of their will, were ultimately enslaved by their purpose.
Even a Primarch could feel sorrow for such a fate.
A guttural roar rumbled from the creature's throat, its muscle fibers contracting beneath chitinous plates. There was no threat display, no intimidation—just the cold, machine-like precision of the Hive Mind as it attacked.
Despite its massive bulk, its movements were unnervingly swift. Blades of bone, serrated tentacles, and cavernous maws lashed out in perfect harmony. The creature moved like an entire army unto itself, striking with the unrelenting ferocity of millions of minds operating as one.
Yet Dukel stood firm. In each hand, he wielded a pitch-black power sword, meeting every attack with the calm mastery of a warrior who had reached the peak of his craft. The Blades of Pain cut through chitin and sinew, carving deep wounds in the beast's gargantuan form.
The weapons' psychic venom gnawed at the Hive Mind's will, a torment it refused to acknowledge. Instead, it severed its own wounded flesh with a mantis-like bone scythe, sacrificing parts of itself without hesitation. It fought on, unwavering. Even pure psychic malice could not swiftly consume an entity of such magnitude.
Though Dukel held the upper hand, he knew the battle had to end soon. Each passing moment gave the Tyranids an even greater advantage on the battlefield. The longer this abomination endured, the more efficiently the swarm moved.
Magnus's intervention had placed him in striking distance. The path was clear.
Now, all that remained was to deliver the killing blow.
Dukel activated the supercomputer within his mind-network, amplifying his psychic shielding and reinforcing his defenses. He focused his will entirely upon his mental onslaught.
It was not a question of whether psychic malice was effective—the dosage simply had to be increased.
An aura of immense power surged outward from the Primarch. The sensors within the Blades of Pain overloaded, their psychic output pushed to the absolute limit. This time, the Hive Mind would experience the full measure of human cruelty.
Elsewhere, buried beneath the rubble of a shattered mountain, Kabanha's gaze locked onto Dukel. Rage and hatred burned in his eyes.
"Dukel!"
Across the battlefield, a phenomenon beyond mortal comprehension stunned the Imperial warriors.
"What is that?!"
"So dark... is it some Tyranid construct?"
"No. That malice... it is human."
"His Highness Dukel is over there!"
"We must protect him!"
In the midst of the chaos, a pillar of darkness erupted skyward, splitting the heavens apart. Every being that beheld it recoiled in horror at the unfathomable malice within.
Nearby, Efilar raised the Sky Eagle Banner of Destiny. The golden standard shone defiantly against the abyssal light. Her expression was that of a devout pilgrim.
"The great Dukel, son of the God-Emperor, pillar of the Imperium."
"Glorious Lord of Destruction, no god shall bring you low—"
She offered silent praise as Dukel unleashed his wrath.
The psychic malice intensified, its dark energy spreading across the battlefield. Within the swarm, the Hive Mind recoiled. For the first time, something akin to fear gripped its ancient consciousness.
The massive Tyranid creature let out a visible shockwave of sound, an instinctual attempt to disrupt the Primarch's focus.
Dukel remained unfazed.
"Mind-network, list current parameters."
A voice interrupted.
"Brother, you should stop charging." Magnus's tone was exasperated.
"Silence. I must push further. I will crush the Hive Mind and safeguard the Blood Angels' defenses."
Magnus sighed. "Brother... your sword is melting."
Dukel clicked his tongue in irritation. He glanced at his weapons—both Blades of Pain pulsed with uncontained energy, on the verge of molecular disintegration.
"No matter," he muttered. "This is enough."
Turning his gaze back to the Hive Mind's towering form, he raised his weapons high.
"Taste it, insect. The shadow of suffering—born from the agony of untold millions!"
With impossible speed, Dukel lunged. The Hive Mind's form twisted, its instincts screaming in desperation. Its colossal frame reared like a living fortress against the heavens.
Dark light consumed the world.
The abyssal power sword cleaved through the Hive Mind's body. A wave of darkness erupted in its wake, an ocean of malice swallowing the battlefield whole.
Across the war-torn plains, Imperial forces watched as the Tyranid storm collapsed. The towering monstrosity was engulfed without a whisper of defiance. Even the relentless swarm faltered.
When the dark radiance touched the ground, the planet itself quaked. Mountains split, cities crumbled, and the land was carved apart by abyssal fissures. The battlefield became a ruin beyond recognition.
Dukel's twin blades, overwhelmed by the sheer force of their own power, shattered in his grip. Their molecular structure had been undone. They simply ceased to exist.
At that moment, the Tyranid swarm across Bawei One erupted—spore sacs burst, skyborne bioforms plummeted like meteors, and the war-beasts of the Tyranids withered in an instant.
Across the entire sector, the Hive Mind's influence recoiled as if struck by a god's wrath.
Guilliman and Dante, locked in their own battles, stood dumbfounded as the tide of war shifted. For a brief moment, all Imperial soldiers hesitated, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Dante turned to Guilliman. "Is this... the power of another Primarch?"
Guilliman exhaled. "Dukel once told me this technique would be effective against the Tyranids... I did not expect it to be this effective."
Dante lowered his head. "I once doubted that our Holy Father could be saved. I was a fool. After this battle, I will seek penance."
Before Guilliman could reply, Dante was already departing, bound for Baal. He needed to witness the truth with his own eyes.
Above the battlefield, in the depths of the Immaterium, the Hive Mind writhed in agony. A wound had been carved into its vast, cosmic form—a scar of human malice, deeper and darker than the void itself.
A shadowed figure watched from the Warp, his form shifting among countless ravens.
"Brother," Clarks murmured, his voice laced with unease. "What have you done?"
Even as he spoke, the Chaos Warmaster made his move. The war was far from over.
Back on the battlefield, Dukel turned to his forces, his blood-red cloak billowing.
"Pursue them!" he ordered. "We will hunt these creatures to the last!"
But as he prepared to lead the charge, a steel lash cracked through the air—
From the ruins behind him, a barbed whip shot forward, aimed directly at his heart.
…
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