Chapter 85: Kree Empire 6

Perspective: Rogal Dorn

Gorgar-7’s massive orbital shields had barely flickered before the Iron Vow tore through the void and hammered into the planet’s sky. In the moments before impact, Rogal Dorn stood at his flagship’s prow, arms folded across his power armor, eyes fixed on a world that believed itself safe. It was not.

“Deploy all drop pods,” he ordered. His voice carried over the deck like a gale. “No survivors.”

The Imperial Fists poured into the atmosphere in perfect formations. Every pod struck at the precise coordinates calculated from the stolen Kree navigational charts. One thousand crusaders hit the ground at once. There was no scatter. There was no chaos. There was only purpose.

Below them, Khar’Varis waited. Its citadels rose in monolithic grey and obsidian, defended by layers of gun emplacements and crystal wards. Its commanders believed this bastion unassailable. They had no idea the hammer that was about to fall.


The first layer of Kree infantry barely formed ranks before they were torn apart by concentrated bolter volleys. Their rifles sounded like toys against the unrelenting roar of Astartes firepower. When the gun lines fell silent, the Imperial Fists advanced. Siege squads battered down reinforced walls with chainswords and melta bombs. Engineers unleashed demolition charges that ruptured subterranean bunkers.


Rogal Dorn moved among them. His massive shield, the Redeemer, blazed with the symbol of the Imperium. Each step was deliberate. Each swing of his fist or salvo from his bolter was delivered with unerring accuracy. Kree survivors tried to flee, but the Fists formed tight blocks, cutting off every escape route.


Dorn’s helmet visor flared as he surveyed the battlefield. Within two hours, the outer defenses lay in ruins. Not a single Kree commander remained alive to coordinate a counterattack. Reinforcements sent from orbit were crushed by orbital macro-cannons the moment they tried to down low.


At the heart of Khar’Varis stood its greatest fortress, the Central Bastion. Dorn led a breach squad straight to its gates. Explosions shattered the ancient doors. Stone fell away, revealing the high command chamber inside, where a single Kree general awaited him.

She stood tall on a dais of fractured alloy, her blood-blue armor etched with honors and threats. Her face was hard, her eyes filled with scorn.


“You bring destruction,” she said, voice amplified by the chamber’s echo. “You think you conquer? You are nothing but raiders in holy armor.”


Rogal Dorn did not flinch. He raised the Redeemer and advanced until she looked up at him, lip curled.


“We build foundations,” he replied, voice cold and steady.


She laughed, a harsh rasp. “You primitive life's empire will crumble. We have lasted for 68 millennias, you think you bunch of monkey can destroy it!”


“Then you will learn how quickly arrogance falls,” Dorn said.


Without warning, he slammed his shield into her defenses. The impact shattered her energy barrier and sent her sprawling backward. Before she could rise, Dorn stepped forward and struck her chest with a single punch. The force cracked alloy and shattered bone. She crumpled, lifeless, at his feet.


The remaining Kree in the chamber hesitated. Dorn's Fists did not. They swarmed in and purged the last traces of resistance.

Later, Dorn stood in the ruined command chamber, looking down at the corpses of the high-ranking officers. Their arrogance had been their downfall. The fortress that had seemed impregnable was now just another ruin.

“Bastion broken,” he announced over the vox.


Outside, the last bastion walls buckled and collapsed under the weight of mechanized siege engines. Plasma vents erupted, molten metal sprayed like blood. Khar’Varis burned.

Rogal Dorn activated his comms.


“Emperor,” he reported. “Khar’Varis is ours. The bastion is no more.”


He paused and turned back to the ruined dais.


“Arrogance built your fortress. Our will shattered it.”


The Planetary Governor of Gorgar-7 had no words. The world had fallen before his people even drew breath.

Above, in the silent void, the Tesseract Gate pulsed still. Through it, other Primarchs waged parallel wars. Together, they were the hammer that would drive the Kree Empire to its knees.


But Rogal Dorn, standing amid the ashes, knew this was only one blow in a far greater crusade. The fortress was broken. The Imperium’s foundation held. And now the next world awaited its reckoning.