Mud.

Lots of it.

An excessively large amount it seemed. It went on and on, all the way until the horizon, which was engulfed by…flames?

A figure clad in dark blue armour rose above a flaming wreck burnt black by some exotic weapon. Gunfire raced by, through the air, the sky, striking the ground…and people. Explosions ripped apart the earth as beams of light danced to and fro across this hell scape.

The figure looked up to the sky, and gasped.

The sky itself was burning. Ribbons of flame fell from the air. The clouds burnt a toxic shade of grey-black, pulsating as if alive, writing in agony as the atmosphere recoiled in shock from the war below. Huge aircraft jinxed through the sky, tracer fire sprouting from wingtips, missiles pursuing the enemy like birds of prey.

The figure looked at their hands…my hands, they thought, and then realized they were armed. Giant blades, many times longer than a normal persons arm, extended from their gauntlets. The figure realized how strong they felt. Stronger than ever before…

A sudden distraction caught their eye. A shell was hurtling through the air towards him. It was falling from the sky at such great speed, and yet, it seemed to move as if in slow motion. The figure moved forwards a few paces, each step clearing metres. The shell struck the ground behind them and exploded. They remained untouched.

Turning to look at the crater behind them, they saw an incredible sight. Hundreds, no, thousands of dark armoured giants like himself were pouring over the hillsides, guns firing non-stop. Rounds flew past him.

"We have come for you! We have come for you!" They screamed, almost in unison. The figure thought they meant him, but he was incorrect. The massed hordes charged past him and continued firing. They paid him no heed. The figure spun around and saw who they were fighting.

More giants. Except these ones were green. They were armed and armoured almost exactly like the others were. They were, for all purposes, identical. Only their colour seemed to define them.

But then, as they fell upon the enemy, the figure knew he was wrong. Weapons appeared out of nowhere, as if from thin air. Giant swords, fusions of a blade and chainsaw, claws much like his own, blades that glowed blue and danced with ethereal lightning, even more unusual weapons glowing halberds or chain-axes. They fell upon their enemy with these weapons and reaped a bloody toll on them. Green armour cracked and splintered as the blue warriors struck at them with all the fervour of the insane. Blows so powerful they could shatter metal like glass were thrown with such trivial ease that the figure couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was used to fighting, but not like this. The warriors of both side seemed entirely undaunted by the other, meeting them head on when logic dictate they retreat. Gun shots tore off arms, legs, even blew people in half, but somehow they continued on. Flame sprouted from the green warriors sides as hundreds of flamethrowers were ignited at once. A wall of flame danced against the blue tide, but, despite all the laws of nature saying they should be dead, they fought on. Flame did not even slow them.

"We have come for you! We have come for you!" They screamed the mantra like animals as they slaughtered their enemy where they stood.

The figure found themselves moving forward, almost against their will. They knew this was a dream, a lie, a falsehood, but a part of them still didn't want to move onwards. The things they were seeing were so terrible they wanted to turn back, to run, but, at the same time, he found that he was quite unsure as to why he was feeling these things. He didn't even recognise the emotion that yelled at him to turn back. All he felt was a will of iron, a mind unflinching in the face of the most terrible of horrors.

The figure then knew the horrible truth.

This isn't a dream. This is real. This is me. This is me in some other life.

As he made that realization he found himself in the thick of the fighting, his claws carving green armoured warriors into ribbons of red meat as easily as one cuts paper. Bullets flew past him, but they moved so slow to him he could simply step to the side and dodge them. A blue stream of energy radiated in the distance, further down the line of battle. A blast so bright it glared like the tendrils of the sun itself. The figure found themselves laughing as they slapped aside a sword, the wielders arm breaking from the deflection. They lifted that person up and delivered several blows into their torso, impaling them half a dozen times over before throwing them aside like a ragdoll.

The green foes begun to fall before the blue giants as he ripped and teared their way through the ranks, laughing manically the whole time, weapons soaked red as they sliced through warriors without care or hesitation.

The fighting ceased, and it took him a moment to realize it was because the enemy was all dead. All of them. Green bodies, broken and bruised, bloodied and beaten, lay all over the hillside. A rise still blocked the view to the landscape beyond, and, even though a tiny voice inside his head screamed not to go, not to look, he found his legs carried him up there in leaps and bounds too big to be physically possible.

He came to the rise, and looked over to see a scene of such utter horror it would burn itself into his mind forever.

A huge war was being fought, bigger than any he could imagine. The ruins of several giant green ships lay torn and ruined, smoking on a plain of blood. Huge columns of smoke rose into the tortured sky, dark and black, like giant mushrooms, the by-product of some horrendous explosions. Dozens of such clouds dotted the horizon, and, around each one, was hundreds of armoured figures and vehicles of various colours. Firestorms broke the horizon apart as towering mechanical monstrosities, like animate mountains, crushed hapless fighters beneath them, before decimating those that remained with guns that could break the continents themselves. Huge blossoms of energy erupted as they seared the enemy out of existence. Tank columns surrounded the giant ships, like fallen beasts of legend, guns firing into the survivors of the calamitous event which had laid such a proud fighting force to ruin.

This is no war. This is a slaughter. A massacre.

The figure felt a change rippled through the air. The blue clad warriors advanced even now down the hill to the fighting beyond. Joining them now were warriors clad in the darkest black, blood staining their armour as they advanced on like remorseless killers. They seemed to lend fervour to the blue giants, and they fought on all the harder.

A warcry erupted from their lips as they charged onwards.

"For the Warmaster! For Horus!"

Horus? Where have I heard that name befor-no. No, it can't be. It can't be.

Booming footsteps resounded behind the figure as a behemoth in black walked up beside them. A giant mace was by their side. A wolfskin pelt was around their shoulders and their head was left bare for all to see. A face looked out over the carnage beyond and smiled.

The giant radiated such fearsome horror that the figure doubted that any could stand before him without either kneeling in subjugation or fleeing. They seemed immense, unstoppable, immortal.

"Glorious, is it not?" They boomed in a voice like the death of the suns themselves. The figure turned to look at the face, that face with the horrible smile.

The face of Horus.

This was Horus in some other life. This was…this was…this was the real Horus. The figure looked down to his hands and knew that these were his real hands. The figure then paused. If he was leading the blue giants, and Horus led the dark warriors, then that meant that…the enemies they were fighting…they were the armies of his friends. His team.

The figure looked out upon the fields, this horrible massacre, and almost fell to their knees with the weight of realization.

This is their deaths I am seeing. This is how my friends die. I am seeing the end of our lives here.

They then said something which was so hideous it chilled them to their core. The voice was so alike their own, because it was their own. This was himself speaking in another life.

"Yes. Yes it is. They deserved this. They deserve all of it. Them, and the false ruler that is our father. They deserve all of this, and more"

The world broke apart like shards of glass, shattering before them as they found themselves bolt upright, roaring in denial of what they had just seen.

"Noooooooooooo!" They screamed, so loudly that the windows and mirrors blew out, glass shards shattering in all directions as they threw their bedsheets off and rolled onto the floor. They continued to yell, shattering the door apart, bursting it into splinters. The wall cracked and buckled as their scream shredded wood and mortar alike with its intensity. Their teammates leapt into action, startled from sleep, turning to him with looks of shock or horror.

Corvus responded first, grabbing his wrists and trying to subdue him, straining against his cries.

"What is he doing?" Roared Jaghatai in the background, blocking his ears, his voice almost soft in comparison.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Screamed Corvus, desperately trying to placate his teammate.

"He's going to kill us all! He's going to kill us all!" Konrad found himself repeating the cry over and over like a chant.

"Who? WHO?" Corvus roared into his face, holding his wrists by his side as he kept him pinned with a knee to the chest.

"The Warmaster! The favoured one! The Wolf of Luna!"

"What is he on about?" Ferrus yelled as he tried to keep the room from disintegrating by slapping the walls back into place. The walls, not quite sure whether they were supposed to disintegrate or go back into shape, decided it would simply be easier to fall over and pretend like nothing was happening.

"Get the headmaster!" Corvus yelled. People were filing out of their rooms, awakened by the deafening howl. Among them was the lesser Primarchs, in various stages of undress. Roboute was pushing his way through the crowds clad in naught but blue boxers. Dorn came up behind him, muttering something about how glass was a stupid choice for a window. People wisely stepped aside as the large figures pushed aside the rabble to reach the source of the noise. What was causing almost as large a commotion as Konrad exploding a room with his voice was the fact that Sanguinius was pushing through the crowds as well, naked but for a towel around his waist. Apparently he had been mid shower when everything glass related in the building decided to cease existing. Tiny shards remained on his shoulders and in his wings, to which he was constantly muttering about. He kept flapping his wings every now and then to clear the shards out. As he was doing this, many of the student body were either knocked down by his wingbeats or simply fell to the ground in awe of his form. The medical toll for the night had to treat almost as many nosebleeds as it did minor glass cuts.

Roboute stepped through the ruined wall to see what was happening first.

"What's going on?" He yelled between mind-rending howls.

"It's Konrad! He's gone insane! Mön tereer ööriin gesen Khashgiraan minii tsust or khugalsan!" Jaghatai cried as he continued to hold his hands against his ears.

"Why is he doing this?" Roboute asked.

"Their coming! Can't you see it! Their coming for us all!"

"Who? Who's coming?" Said a new voice, one that spoke with complete and total control of the situation. Horus had made his way into the room.

"The beginning! The end! Everything in between! Everything that was and everything that will be! The death of the stars! The blood of the universe!"

"What is he talking about?" Yelled someone in the background. The student body was, understandably, both confused and terrified. Nothing ever good came from these people being so worked up, and now one was apparently reciting a prophecy about the death of reality itself.

"Their proxy has been chosen. Their puppet. He strides the stars in black, a giant unchained. He marches on a world of gold to kill the father!"
"The father of what?" Roboute demanded, leaning down close to Konrad.

"Us! Humanity! Our Emperor, the one true ruler of Mankind! He who made us from his own being!"

The screaming stopped as Konrad saw Horus.

"He is here! The Warmaster, the destroyer of worlds, the champion of Chaos Undivided. He is here, and his name is death!"

Horus took a step back.

"Who do you mean? What are you talking about!"

"I mean you, Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the Luna Wolves, the Warmaster of the Imperium and favoured son of the Emperor of Mankind! You are the bringer of ruin and despair upon our entire race! You represent the end of all things!"

With that foreboding declaration, Konrad fell face first onto the floor, silent. No one spoke. The only sound was the faint creaking of the building in the wind and ragged breathing from the onlookers.

Finally, Dorn spoke up.

"So, that was insane" He deadpanned.

A/N: HAHA! You thought I'd do something light hearted and funny! Think again!