Hastur Sejanus?
The moment he heard that name, Sanguinius nearly lost his grip on the Angel.
As the words "Horus is by my side" reached his ears, Sanguinius's superhuman mind instantly grasped the situation.
"Sejanus! Tell me! Give me your coordinates!" Sanguinius roared.
But there was no reply. Sejanus's voice cut out abruptly, leaving only the hollow hiss of static.
"Damn it!" Sanguinius cursed—a rare lapse in his composure.
Beneath him, the Angel's wings shuddered violently. Intense azure flames erupted, and a concentrated hatred took physical form, howling in the air. The Angel exerted a sudden burst of strength, trying to seize Sanguinius's own wings. Sanguinius was forced to take flight to put distance between them. The Angel pursued, and once again, the two figures blurred into a speed Tyrell's eyes could not follow.
Tyrell stood at the console. He didn't give up just because the signal was cut. He keenly sensed that the warrior calling himself Sejanus had used a high-frequency, highly distinctive transmission method. Theoretically, if Tyrell could isolate that specific signal from the thousands of logs, he could trace the coordinates.
Thousands of signals... he would have to rely on intuition. The only saving grace was that Tyrell considered himself an expert at following his gut.
If he could just get a nudge of inspiration, he felt confident he could find that signal and the coordinates.
Tyrell closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to the Omnissiah...
"WHAT! HAVE! YOU! DONE!"
Horus's roar shook the entire tower.
One of the Alphariuses—perhaps it was Beta—had driven a pale blade through Sejanus's chest. Ash-like grey dust slowly leaked from the wound. Sejanus's fingers gradually lost their strength, slipping from the Golden Throne. The Dark Age force field pressing down on Horus vanished along with Sejanus's grip.
The moment he was liberated, Horus lunged to the throne. He leveled the Alpharius who had stabbed Sejanus with a single punch, then dropped to one knee, cradling the dying Sejanus in his arms.
"I'm helping you, brother," Beta said, rubbing his face. Basilio Fo's poison hadn't fully worn off, so Horus's punch had been relatively weak for a Primarch.
Horus ignored Beta entirely. His eyes saw only Sejanus.
"Father..." Sejanus's voice sounded detached. "Why must you keep making mistake after mistake?"
Horus took Sejanus's hand. "I am not making a mistake, Sejanus... I once betrayed my Father, my Emperor."
"This time, no matter what he asks, I must follow him. He is the Emperor, I promise you."
Sejanus's lips trembled slightly. "Father, I hope I am wrong... I no longer plead to convince you. I only ask that you forgive my defiance, and tell me... what of our Legion? What of my brothers?"
Horus's eyes wavered for a split second. He could feel Sejanus's existence slipping through his fingers. Yet, lying came so easily. He didn't want to hurt Sejanus again by telling him the Luna Wolves were utterly gone.
"They are all fine," Horus said, looking up, unable to meet Sejanus's eyes for fear of being caught in the lie.
Sejanus gripped Horus's hand tighter. "I beg you... tell Abaddon to restrain his anger. To remain rational. Tell him not to lose his mind and turn to desperate measures because of a crisis."
"And tell Little Horus... tell him not to just go with the flow. He must oppose what is wrong. He must dare to speak his mind."
"And Torgaddon... he's always joking, but he has the talent to stand on the right side when it counts. If he can be serious and hone his martial arts, perhaps he can restrain the impulses of you and Abaddon."
"Finally, Loken. I suspect he filled my spot. He is a true Luna Wolf. If only one remains in the galaxy, it will be him. So, if he opposes something you are doing, you must listen to him..."
Tears streamed down the face of the Wolf God, falling onto Sejanus.
"There is no need to weep, my Father... I have known for a long time that I am not the real Sejanus. I am just... an impression. A memory. A collective of memories from many people..."
"Especially you. It is your memory of Sejanus that sustained my existence. I am not so much Sejanus as I am... a part of you. Your reason, your conscience, and your mercy."
Sejanus's body began to disintegrate into dust. He forced a small smile. "As long as you maintain your reason, conscience, and mercy—as long as you remember the virtues of Sejanus—I have never truly died..."
Sejanus reached out, trying to touch the gold Centaur ring on Horus's finger. "Wolf God... may the Emperor protect you..."
But before his fingers could reach the ring, they crumbled into ash. In his final moment, he finally dropped the burden of reason, whispering the raw emotion of his heart to the Wolf God: "...I always longed to fight by your side again... why... did it end like this..."
"...Please, you must..."
He faded into the air, leaving nothing in Horus's arms but a substance that was neither ash nor snow.
Horus's expression became dark, pale, and hollow.
"I found the entrance to that region of Terra," Beta said, standing nearby, his voice light.
A black fury erupted from Horus's chest. Beta's breastplate shattered, and his body was slammed into the wall, his ribcage deforming from the impact.
"Are you going to kill me?" Beta asked, his voice devoid of fear and almost playful. "Are you going to betray 'our Father'?"
Horus's face twisted in a struggle with something deep inside. Finally, he loosened his grip and spoke with a deathly stillness: "Take me there. I have already failed my son. I cannot fail my Father again."
Lorgar could not understand why the two divinities remained silent, but he knew that without their intervention, a victory in the fleet battle was impossible. The only way was to board and decapitate the leadership.
Using the power of the Indeterminate Warp Domain granted by the Angel of Extermination, he created an illusory feint. He made Lion El'Jonson believe he was attacking the Rock, drawing the eldest brother's attention away. Lorgar's real target was the Honor of Macragge. His target was Roboute Guilliman.
Lorgar didn't do this out of petty hatred; it was a calculated move. The Lion was a killer, a warrior, a beast. Guilliman was the mind, the spine, the sovereign.
Lorgar had once fallen to Guilliman's hand, but he was no longer that man. He was far beyond his past self, while Guilliman was still trapped in the "stupidity" of logic and self-imposed limits, without a shred of understanding regarding the Truth. Lorgar believed he could easily crush the Master of Macragge, trampling his pride and dignity. Perhaps...
He could even "elevate" Guilliman, forcing him to see the Truth by flooding his body with the power of the Indeterminate Warp, turning him into a daemon prince under Lorgar's control.
The thought made Lorgar smile.
He walked through the corridors of the Honor of Macragge. Ultramarines tried to stop him, but they were like ants before a god. Lorgar merely shifted his gaze or exerted a sliver of will, and the warriors were infected by the Truth, dissolving into burning light. His teleportation had been precise; after clearing out one squad, he stood before Guilliman's office. There were no guards; the Victrix Guard seemed to have been deployed elsewhere. This fit Lorgar's understanding of his brother: Guilliman likely realized his sons were useless against a Primarch and didn't want to waste their lives in a futile sacrifice.
Rational, but meaningless. Once Lorgar killed him, this ship would become a sacrifice, its blood flowing for the Indeterminate Warp...
Lorgar was researching how to claim the throne of the Indeterminate Warp—how to open the path to ascension. He hungered for this final divinity, the last crown on the eight-pointed star.
His fingers trembled with excitement as he touched the doorframe. He had always felt a symmetry between himself and Guilliman: Logic vs. Emotion, Objective vs. Subjective, Secular vs. Religious, Order vs. Chaos, Sovereign vs. Prophet, Messiah vs. Anti-Messiah.
This was the moment Lorgar had long awaited. A duel of destinies. The thought of Guilliman waiting behind the door for his challenge, this ritualistic moment, made Lorgar's heart pound.
He pushed the door open with a wild laugh. "Guilliman!"
"My most foolish brother!"
"Are you ready? Ready to bleed? Ready to receive me..."
Lorgar's voice trailed off.
He realized Guilliman was not standing with the Emperor's Sword, ready for a duel, as he had expected.
Quite the opposite. Guilliman hadn't even stood up. Lorgar couldn't even see his face.
He was sitting at his desk, his face buried in stacks of parchment. The Emperor's Sword wasn't in his hand; it was propped up nearby, its golden flames serving as a desk lamp to illuminate his paperwork.
"Guilliman!" Lorgar snapped, his face darkening, the eerie light on his body flickering.
"Quiet!"
Guilliman's sharp rebuke hit Lorgar with an unexpected, fearful weight. Lorgar actually froze in place.
A trace of fear crossed Lorgar's face. He felt something—a murky blue shadow, a deathly stillness of order. It felt like a power far greater than his own. But how...
An illusion?
Though he tried to convince himself it was a trick, Lorgar's voice dropped. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Guilliman set down his pen with visible effort, then tiredly rubbed his temples before pushing aside his documents to look at Lorgar.
"A new Codex. The universe is undergoing a massive shift, just as it did ten millennia ago."
"Perhaps I will leave again. Perhaps the Imperium will collapse. Perhaps a new era will dawn. Regardless, people will need a guide to help them through the danger and change."
"I originally intended to write a Codex Imperialis; I've completed quite a bit in my spare moments over the years. Given the new requirements, I've decided to use this time to expand it into the Codex Galactica."
Is he insane?
Lorgar's composure nearly broke, but he managed a cold sneer. "Your Codex is useless. The galaxy is coming to an end. Everything will burn. It's over—"
"Perhaps. But I believe hope exists at all times. Maybe someone will survive. Many people might survive... and when they do, they will need this Codex." Guilliman smiled slightly, completely unbothered by Lorgar's mockery.
Guilliman's attitude infuriated Lorgar. He felt slighted, as if Guilliman didn't care about him at all. Even with a Primarch standing right in front of him, Guilliman was more focused on that piece-of-crap "toilet paper" Codex.
He viewed Guilliman as his fated rival, yet in Guilliman's eyes, he was worth less than those papers?
Lorgar wore a cruel grin. He raised his hand, and shifting light formed into a fire of indescribable colors. He hurled the flame at a bookshelf containing the completed chapters of Guilliman's Codex. The fire erupted, and the shelf holding over three hundred handwritten chapters, along with the manuscripts themselves, turned to ash.
Guilliman set down his pen and watched the bright light of the burning Codex in silence. Black veins were visible at the corners of his eyes.
Lorgar laughed with cruel mockery. He waited to see Guilliman's rage. He wanted to see his "logical" brother tear off the mask and expose his irrational side, and then...
Wait?
Lorgar saw Guilliman stand up and grip the Emperor's Sword. But the bright flames did not illuminate Guilliman. On the contrary, the Armor of Fate seemed to darken rapidly, and a writhing shadow completely enveloped him.
"LOR! GAR!!"
Lorgar saw it. Ten thousand thoughts falling to ruin, one man holding ten thousand thoughts. The eight points of the star breaking, leaving only a single corner.
Lorgar let out a scream of terror. He suddenly realized he had provoked something he shouldn't have.