The Screaming Sea, the Uneven Abyss.

Words can not describe this place.

Not the simplest, nor the most complex can begin to describe this wretched realm.

But they will have to do; for now.

Over countless Ages this place has been gifted a thousand names; the Fathomless Pit, the Nightmarish Abyss, and the Screaming Sea are but three.

This place; it hungers for creation itself, devouring the scattered universes that blanket uncounted realities. Long has it fed, trapping realms whose numbers eclipse the stars themselves. It is at its farthest depths where the Old Gods, lounging on Brazen Thrones as they feed on exploits of both their Chosen and their enemies alike, bringing ruin to a thousand worlds and realms beyond both space and time themselves.

They rule by proxy, whispering in the ears of their champions, who lead whole armada’s like young Gods. Death holds no meaning to them; such an inconvenience merely leads them to be born again.

To fight any that reach beyond this gilded prison is to grant a feeble and scarcely noticed resistance against the eternal horde.

And to know this and still so it to walk the thinning line between madness and valor.

That is a line the Bloodforged chooses to walk.

With a swing of his blade he sent the top half of a daemon towards the horizon, and moved on, taking seconds to breath as he wandered a world warped by Chaos. He breathed, stepped on a corpse, bloodied his greaves and moved on, all the while hoisting that sword-mace over his shoulder like it was a twig.

How long had it been? How long had he been wandering the Sea of Screams?

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure anymore.

“Time” ran differently here. It could be moved forwards, backwards and even stopped on a whim.

That was but one of the things he’d learned in his time here.

Another was the metaphysical layout of how the Uneven Abyss worked. It was constructed of thousands of assimilated universes, all twisted beyond recognition to what they once were. The Ruinous Gods divided the devoured realities and timelines amongst themselves, their unfathomable legions calling their dominions home.

He wandered but one, his will strong enough to tear a small maw into the fabric of the Screaming Sea.

He could walk through that, find the abominable worlds and carve a path through the unending horde.

He’d wander as far and as long as he needed to, so long as he found the Traitorous Firstborn, Harkan the Everchosen.

Still; thinking of the Traitorous Firstborn, the Bloodforged merely made a noise, almost like a snarl as he moved on.

To this day he remembered the final hour of the Everchosen’s Black Tide. He even remembered after that, the Eye overtaking him and the world he grew up on. Even then Imperia fought, tooth and nail, claw and fang, they fought.

He stood with stallions and mares he hadn’t known existed before.

He had charged with the remnants of broken Chapters.

Only when the last soldier fell did the war against the Everchosen and the Daemon horde end; and he was still standing.

Until he fell, he carried on the Imperia last battle. And he would not die until either the Everchosen was dead at his feet, or the Sea of Screams was no more.

“Teach them fear.”

Stopping The Bloodforged actually looked back, his attention turning to the winds as he heard the words. They were but a memory, the words whispered by a long dead brother. Still, he would do as requested. The Traitorous legions, the Everchosen, the Daemon Princes, even the Ruinous Gods would learn such a thing.

“Teach them fear.”

He was not the hero of this story. He was not the knight in shining armor who would get the mare after vanquishing the fabled “dragon”. He was the one who ravaged cities, broke worlds and devoured whole universes.

“Teach them fear.”

And he was the one that was going to burn this dimension to the ground.

His attention snapped up as he heard the screams, the sounds of the Daemon Horde as they materialized not too far from him.

He didn’t wait.

Before they could fully materialize in this plane he was on them. He grabbed onto their shoulders and tore them in half, sanguine and organ meat decorating the streets as he did so. Then he turned that mammoth sword-mace to chop one in half. One swung a blade and he grabbed it, his fingers punching straight through daemonforged metal before he twisted, breaking the blade in two. He followed by stabbing them with their own broken weapon then headbutting them so hard their skull deformed. Another punched him in the face and he barely flinched, just glaring back at them before shoving his fingers into their eyes and ripped off the front of their face. From a distance one started shooting esoteric energy at him and he dodged, grabbed another and used them as a shield. He promptly tore out their spine and threw them like a baseball.

Then he turned, used the spine as a bludgeoning weapon to kill another demon. The magic user - those he likes to call Priests- fired a bolt of lightning at him and he promptly threw his weapon at it, letting lightning dance across the weapon before it ripped through one of the Daemon’s arms. He dodged another daemon that tried to attack him; grabbed them by the throat and tossed them into the air, only to grab their leg and start using them as a living club. After he’d used that one to beat several to death he stepped on it crushing their chest and ripped their arm off. The priest was limping in the air and he just glanced at it, raised an arm and made a fist.

The Priest was promptly crushed into the size of a bit coin.

That done, he looked at the rest that were starting to attack him. Magic, missiles, psionics, swords, axes. They all came and the beast roared; power born of a fusion of magic and psionics dancing around him as a wave of scarlet lightning that pushed them all back and lacerated the streets. Space given, he reached behind him, a hole in subspace being born as he pulled something from it.

It turned out to be a three headed chaingun.

The sound that left those three heads could only be compared to an endless volley of shotgun shells fired at the speed of a sonic boom.

The Bloodforged mowed the horde down without a second thought. His three-headed chaingun glowing a crimson red as it started to heat up. Still he didn’t stop. He rammed the chaingun into a particularly far daemon’s gut as it continued to spin, shredding skin from muscle and bone as its payload tore itself out the daemon’s back and into the crowd. When it emptied he tossed it back, letting it reload itself in his subspace pocket as he pulled out his gravity hammer and crushed everything that got in his path.

He batted one’s head off their shoulders, he flattened another into paste. He launched one into orbit as they took the full force of the gravity drives shockwave. He made his way to his sword-mace and lifted it into the air letting it rest on his shoulder as he dual-wielded his two weapons.

Carnage filled the street and beyond; blood, organs, tattered flesh, crushed bone. He leveled the Daemon cities, and moved on.

He wasn’t stopping.

They came in tens, they came in hundreds, they came in thousands.

Still, he wasn’t stopping.

The Daemons couldn’t understand him; they couldn’t stop him - they couldn’t tempt him, let alone reason with him. He had no pity, no remorse, nor fear they could exploit. He didn’t talk back at them like many they had challenged again and again. He didn’t snarl as he cut them down. He didn’t yell, gloat, cackle, threaten or mock them for standing in his way. Day in and day out, without rest, without food, he wandered the gravelands of a thousand Daemon Worlds and sacked their temples. He would go on until nothing of their realm remained.

He was like that thing that was sealed within the darkest corners of Fathomless Pit..

“Teach them fear.”

And like it, they would learn to fear him.

Author's Note

Ok, here we are; welcome to Infernus Astartes revision Infernus Astartes: Ruinous Son. This is admittingly a variation I wanted to try working on. Especially considering how I initially wanted to portray Beast as least Ax-crazy and more focused on what he does.
That said there are two, maybe three references to other games in these two chapters, hope you can find em.
Now, before we get started I sort of want your input, not just on whether you like this angle I'm working on or not, but to see where this might go. I'm of two minds right now and I can
A. Either repeat Infernus Astartes and move him straight into the Age/dimension with Celestia and Luna in the canon timeline.
or
B. Have him go Doom/Warhammer 40k on this. In which case you get a feel of all his toys and what the hell he can do.
So yeah, depending on what your interested in will determine which part of his life, or what reality he moves into.
So take your pick; shall he Teach the Daemon's fear, or shall he find "peace and harmony".
Polls open, be interested in seeing what you desire to happen next.