Death of a Chaos Lord

**(Short Story)**
The first punch rattled his skull against the twisted inside of his helmet. He could already feel the warm blood seep down his brow.
The second punch dented part of his helmet, the metal buckling in ever closer towards his head.
The third punch shattered the visor. He winced as glass shards shredded his eye.

‘Bring the ship about, Kosk,' Keasiton ordered.
The enemy battlebarge had landed a few lucky shots, but Keasiton would not leave it unanswered.
The ship superstructure groaned as macroshells were propelled at dazzling speeds towards the grey giant.
A disfigured menial slowly approached, his shaking hands betraying his hidden fear for the giant before him.

'My lord,' he spoke, 'readings tell of severe damage across the ship. She can’t take much more'.
Rakephes lifted his axe in sudden anger. 'Silence you mongrel. Are you suggesting we retreat?'
The menial immediately shrank, 'Of course not my lord. Just that if we are not careful, the ship might not survi…'

The menial’s head exploded, the barrel of Keasiton’s boltpistol trailing smoke.
'The deamon’s pact promised us victory, damage or not we push on!' The foul creature from the warp had indeed promised him much, but the cost was high.
Failure was not an option.
The pact mentally burned while hanging from his belt, the spot of his own blood on the leathery skin always reminding him of his fate should he fail.
Kosk noticed the slightest sign of worry in Keasiton’s face.
'Brother, if I may. There might be a better course: we should board them…'

The fourth punch buckled his breastplate, his laboured breaths wheezing through the helmet’s mouthpiece.
The fifth punch sheared off part of the lower helm, the metal spraying blood on the loyalist’s armoured fists.
The sixth punch shattered his jaw, bone-shards flying like shrapnel in every direction.

The dreadclaw drop pod raced towards the vessel.
Vibrations from counterfire rocked the inside.
The drop pod's machine spirit growled in dismay, not content to fly into such long odds.
But with a thunderous noise it clawed into the grey hull, melta cutters hissing at its target.
Within minutes the hull gave way to bright lights as the chaos marines stormed its claustrophobic halls.
Loyalist crew were slaughtered by the hundreds before the marines could organise a counter offensive.
Keasiton had already killed several astartes, his retinue following suit.
One squad brought him some trouble; a tenacious sergeant and his squad had barricaded the hallway to the command deck.
Bolter fire poured from slits between hastily welded metal plating, which blocked the way forward.
Two chaos marines were already dead on the grated floor, their bodies riddled with large craters of burning flesh.

Deucalik was sent first, his heavy mutations absorbing most of the bolter fire—until he was instantly incinerated by unknown weaponfire erupting from one of the slits.
Several chaos servants attempted to break the barricade but each one was taken down by some esoteric weaponry.
Kaesiton had enough and without a second thought he pushed Kosk into the hallway, his larger frame protecting the chaos lord from most of the incoming fire.
Kosk was shredded apart but Kaesiton hammered into the barricade, making short work of the squad.
Rakephes looked on, bewildered. 'Betrayer! You will burn for this!'
Kaesiton pulled his pistol on him. 'Shut up, Rakephes! or do you want to join him?' Rakephes looked down in defeat, pushing down the intense rage inside him.

The seventh punch shattered the last of his ribs. He was coughing up more and more blood now.
The eighth punch went through his midriff, rising agony creeping through his body.
The ninth punch tore off his helmet completely, taking a large portion of skin with it.

It took time to breach the solid bulkhead blocking their path.
The mechanisms refused to budge, probably welded shut, thought Keasiton.
It wouldn’t be the first time he had encountered such a tactic.
Usually a desperate last idea to ward off invaders.
Their desperation brought a smile to his face.
It meant victory was close at hand, his pact with the daemon nearly fulfilled.
With his soul set free he could finally burn his name into the galaxy.
With a loud thunk, the bulkhead gave way, lasgun fire instantly filling the gap created by the grinder.
Keasiton felt the snap of a lasbolt hitting the side of his helmet, he was always surprised by how strong these puny weapons could be.
But it wouldn’t be enough to save them…

The tenth punch shattered his elbow, his arm now pointing in an awkward direction.
The eleventh punch shot a jolt of pain through his body, his mind already too far gone to realise what was crushed.
The twelfth punch hit one of his hearts. For what it mattered, it already had stopped beating anyway.

Keasiton made himself comfortable in the blood-stained throne, prideful in his victory over more corpse worshippers.
At least until a loud roar tore down the corridor, 'My ship!! My crew!!' Words of rage drowned out the horrified screams filling the hallways.
Keasiton prepared his men at the door, ready for whatever might come through those broken doors.
What appeared scared even the chaos lord: a hulking grey armoured marine.
The distinctive shoulders of cataphractii armour barged their way into the room.
Rakephes could barely react before an enormous axe cleaved his skull in two.
The rest of his retinue met the same fate by bolter fire or by bloodied axe.
The giant set his sights on Keasiton.
'So, you are the one that boarded MY vessel, murdered MY crew and then dared to pretend to command The Wanderer? I'm going to take my time ending your life, traitor scum'.
The loyalist captain slowly set down his axe and clamped his combi bolter to his belt. The crack of his knuckles was a harbinger of the retribution to come…

The thirteenth punch landed…