When lightning struck, it rippled through spad time, causing a faint vibration that went unnoticed by any mae. In that fleeting moment, an unlucky student was caught in its path, and their soul was swept into the narrow rift created by the lightning.

  Joe was struck down, his life abruptly ended. Yet, his soul slipped through the fragile seam between dimensions, traversing the gap of spad time to arrive in another world. His journey was beyond prehension, a chaotic blur akin to being torn from reality itself.

  But Joe's tale was only one fragment of the storm. Far beyond the bounds of his ence, a betrayal of unimaginable proportions unfolded. When the news first broke, no one believed it. It was like thunder without rain, a distant, impossible sound.

  That disbelief shattered when the ons of former allies roared, their aim turoward the heart of mankind—Terra itself. Only then did they uand the unthinkable had happened: Warmaster Horus had betrayed the Emperor of Mankind.

  For those who heard it, the betrayal was a scar on their souls. Horus was not just any leader; he was the most trusted of the Emperor’s primarchs. During the Great Crusade, it was he who carried the Emperor’s banner, bringing victory after victory to the Imperium of Man. His name was synonymous with triumph, his loyalty seemingly unshakable. Yet now, that same ruck fear and fury into the hearts of those who once praised it.

  Horus’s treachery wasn’t a solitary act. Half of the Emperor’s elite Space Marine Legions, once paragons of loyalty and honor, turheir backs on humanity. Corrupted by the whispers of Chaos, their souls were twisted into instruments of destru. They turheir formidable guns, once used to protect humanity, toward its annihition. They marched under Horus’s banner with one goal: to overthrow the Emperor and ensve humanity to the Ruinous Powers.

  The betrayal was obse. These warriors had been the pride of humanity, the Emperor’s fi. They sailed across the gaxy on starships, nding on alien worlds to crush brutal xenos and bloodthirsty abominations. They were the Emperor’s bde, hoo perfe and wielded to carve out humanity’s p the stars. And now, that bde had turned against its master, aiming to pierce the heart of mankind.

  Amidst this chaos stood Kayvaan, a veteran of tless battles, his power armor bearing the scars of war. A captain of the Raven Guard, Kayvaan Shrike’s ons were “Raven's Talons,” lethal lightning cws ied into his gaus. Sharp, electrified, and unyielding, they were extensions of his will. As he drove the cws into an enemy’s helmet, blood sprayed out in a violent arc. A pulse of blue electricity crackled, redug flesh and boo ash. The smell of charred remains filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of blood.

  Kayvaan had seen it all before. Death had bee a rhythm, as familiar to him as his owbeat. The bloodshed was relentless. The Imperium’s defenses were crumbling under Horus’s relentless assault. The ohinkable had e to pass: the Warmaster’s genius in warfare, once humanity’s greatest asset, was now its doom.

  Horus’s legions had reached Terra. The Imperial Pace was under siege, and humanity bled. Yet even as exhaustion pulled at his body, Kayvaan refused to yield. With a roar, he kicked a corpse into the oning enemy ranks, sending bodies sprawling like broken puppets. His power armor hummed with energy as he jumped forward, his cws carving through flesh and ceramite with brutal efficy.

  Blood mist filled the air as Kayvaan tore through his enemies. He moved like a shadow, swift and merciless, a reaper in ornate bck armor. Each strike of the Raven's Talons recise, fatal. No foe could stand before him for more than a heartbeat. He was one of the Raven Guard’s deadliest warriors, sed only to their primarch, Corvus Corax, in close bat. He was death inate, unfling and unstoppable.

  But even his unmatched skill couldn’t shift the tide. The battlefield was awash in chaos. Space Marines, who had once fought side by side, now sughtered each other. The bonds of brotherhood fed over turies had been twisted into hatred arayal. Horus’s tactical brilliance was unmatched, and he wielded it like a scalpel to tear apart the Imperium’s defenses.

  The horrors didn’t end with the traitorous Space Marines. Among the corpses and blood-soaked ground, the enemy performed their vile rituals. The air shimmered with unholy energy, and grotesque daemons began to emerge. Mutated beasts, snarling and feral, charged into the fray alongside corrupted Space Mariheir howls blending into a cacophony e.

  Kayvaan Shrike swung the Talons in swift, calcuted arcs, cutting down enemies with ease. His calm demeanor masked the grim reality—there were simply too many foes. No matter how many he felled, the enemy seemed invincible, their numbers unending.

  The battle was going poorly. No, it was worse than that—it was desperate. The Imperial Pace’s defenses faced relentless assaults. In the distahe "Lion’s Gate" spaceport had fallen almost instantly. The enemy had secured an ideal nding point, and now their forces poured in like an uing tide. From the chaos, Kayvaan heard a familiar roar from afar: "For the Emperor!" The cry was deep, powerful, and carried a mix of sorrow and resolve. It was the battle cry of his brothers in the Raven Guard.

  The brothers who had fought shoulder to shoulder with him were reag their limit. Their rallying cries weren’t just words—they were decrations of defiance, meant to bolster their resolve in the face of annihition. But deep down, everyone khe truth. Victory was no longer within reach. All that remained was to face death with honor.

  The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos. Above, the skies were streaked with lines of light—not stars, but tracer rounds from tless anti-aircraft ons firilessly. The ground shook as these ons uorrents of ammunition skyward, weaving together a deadly rain that defied gravity, shooting from earth to sky.

  Beyond the clouds, the battle raged in space. The deafening booms from above were not thunder but the unending exge of artillery fire between warships. High above Terra’s orbit, fleets cshed in brutal bat, firing volley after volley in a merciless duel. Warship against warship, on against on—there was no finesse, only raw firepower. It was a test of attrition, a brutal test of which side could endure longer.

  Explosions lit up the heavens as massive warships were torn apart, their shattered hulks desding toward the phese falling behemoths, burning as they ehe atmosphere, looked like enormous meteors streaking across the sky. Occasionally, a battered ship would steer its final dest into the enemy’s positions. Inside one sued vessel, a helmsman, miraculously still alive, shouted o time, "For the Emperor!" before smming into the enemy ranks.

  Even such acts of heroism could not turide. The enemy surged forward like a tidal wave, overwhelming all resistance. Despair loomed rge as Kayvaan fought his way toward the source of the earlier battle cries. He hoped to reach his brothers, to aid them, even if only a few remained. But pushing forward through a sea of enemies felt like swimming against a river of blood. Soon, the cries fell silent. When he finally goward their source, his fears were firmed—his brothers had fallen.