Speaking of grimdark, have an omake.
Rewards of the Black Crusade
Once again, Joe had found himself surprised by The Forge. The Forge had given him something different. Something new. Something big. He didn't like it.
Once he held the Forge's "gifts" in his hands, he was, at the very least, thankful that they were... given was too weak of a word for this... gifted... yes, gifted to him before the meeting at Somer's Rock. Having these two weapons, these instruments of death, appear in the middle of a crowded room filled with villains, both stable and not, would not have done him any favors.
The first weapon was unique. It was a Lightning Claw, one with a Combi-Bolter attached to the top of it. It was a Power Weapon, one beyond any other. The Talon of Horus. From the moment the Talon was in his presence, he knew. Weapons had souls and this Talon exemplified that. The very spirit of the weapon was one bathed in blood and gore. The weapon had slain countless beings, mortals and daemons alike, even gods as well, minor as they were. It had dealt the final blow to an angel and in doing so, it became more than a mere weapon of war. It had become a symbol, an instrument of death and destruction, ready to desecrate and annihilate all in its wielder's path. The endless sorrow of a grieving father, the wailing lament of a dying god, it was all plain to see. To feel. Even now, blood stained the Talon and with every bolt within, each one blessed in blood sacrifices, Joe knew. He knew that this was a weapon of chaos, a weapon meant to inflict pain, suffering, and death to all. He didn't need his powers to know that. The aura it exuded, the one it radiated, told him all he needed to know. And the moment the Talon entered the field of battle, everyone else would as well.
And yet, in some ways, the Talon of Horus was nothing compared to the second weapon.
The End of Empires. The Echo of the First Murder. Drach'nyen. Where the Talon of Horus was an old weapon, one with the weight of millennia behind it, Drach'nyen was far older. Drach'nyen was, in actuality, not truly a weapon. It was a Daemon, one borne from the very moment man first murdered one of his own kind. And so, Drach'nyen continued that malefic legacy, slaying countless beings, regardless of their nature. And from the countless faces and skulls moving across its blade, Drach'nyen had been doing so for a long, long time. If the Talon of Horus was an instrument of death and destruction, Drach'nyen was an orchestra all on its own, an orchestra of ruin and annihilation. Every life taken by the hands of mankind... every whisper of hatred into the ears of the dying... every thought of killing another... all this had served to turn Drach'nyen into a weapon beyond any other. A weapon that cannot be stopped. There was no barrier Drach'nyen could not pierce. Flesh, metal, energy. Drach'nyen could cut through all of that and more. Reality itself was rent apart where ever Drach'nyen chose to strike. Drach'nyen was the ultimate Daemon Weapon, one that grew with the sins and actions of humanity itself.
And both weapons, both tools of pain and suffering, both of them were loyal to Joe. He knew it deep down within him. These weapons were monstrous, vile, and yes, chaotic to their very cores. But they were loyal and would serve no master, save for Joe himself. And for that, Joe could respect them, give them the honor of being used when they needed to be.
But first, Joe needed to take precautions. He could not wield these weapons without some way to suppress the aura of malevolence they radiated with every moment. As it was now, the only reason he'd wield these weapons would be against S-Class threats or against the Endbringers.
He really didn't want to drive people to madness anytime soon. His reputation still needed to be fixed, damn it!
