Russ drove in with a series of lateral strikes, swinging the spear like a sword. Horus parried with his claw, each dash of metal on metal like the peals of a bell heralding the end of the world. Russ howled. Horus laughed into the face of a cry that would have slain a mortal man. Russ' ferocity he found harder to counter. The primarch of the Space Wolves jabbed hard towards Horus' sides below his plastron, where the armour was thinnest. The Warmaster moved aside. He was lumbering in his Terminator suit, but anticipated Russ' attacks early enough to avoid them all. Horus' lightning claw punched forwards, seeking to rip Russ' head from his shoulders. The primarch moved - but not completely out of the way, allowing Horus to grab his pauldron.

Ceramite exploded into smoke. Slivers of the metallo-ceramic peppered his face. Russ' armour was that of Elavar, an andent design imbued with arcane defences. Its machinery responded to the damage, bathing Horus in a field of deadly cold, but the Warmaster was unaffected, and he twisted his gauntlet back and forth, working the barbs on his claws like saw teeth deeply into Russ' arm. The Wolf King gritted his teeth against the pain.

Horus smiled in triumph.

'You were wrong, brother, you could not best me. Now you will die.'

The Warmaster raised his maul to slay his brother, but Horus' arrogance blinded him to the Wolf King's ruse. As the Warmaster swung up the maul, Russ twisted free of the claw, shredding his own armour and flesh to force an opening, and with every ounce of his strength he thrust the spear one-handed into Horus' side.

A shock wave blasted from the impact, rippling Russ' face with its (bred he pushed on, grinding the spear through the outer layers of Horus' Terminator plate, into the armoured undersuit, through the body glove and into his brother's flesh. Horus looked down at the weapon protruding from his flank in disbelief. A thin sheet of blood ran down the glistening black ceramite of his plate.

'I do not need to win,' said Russ.

Howling, Leman Russ pushed again, plunging the eager tongue of his blade into the Warmaster's guts. Horus roared in agony, and his men faltered in dismay. His maul fell from his fist and he began to shake tremendously. His head jerked back and a blast of white-hot soul fire blazed from his mouth, cracking the armoured cowl curved above his head. Skittering lightning crackled over the two brothers. Violet light blazed from his wound, and the edge of the blade shone golden. It too was shaking, its edges blurring, becoming a spear made of nothing but light. Russ' arm shook painfully. His post-human muscles and bones went numb as he struggled to hold the weapon in place.