Chapter 36: Erebus — The Newborn
"A newborn… You're nothing but a newborn thing!!"
The roar of Magnus the Red shook the chamber like a psychic storm barely held in check.
Nearby, Ahzek Ahriman stood in silence, his expression tight with restrained frustration. There were no words he could offer his Primarch—none that would not make things worse.
By decree of the Emperor of Mankind, the Thousand Sons had been forced into cooperation with Erebus.
And they despised it.
Erebus, however, did not care.
Why would he?
He already knew what Magnus would one day become.
A traitor. A cautionary tale.
What judgment could such a future hold over him?
Upon assuming authority, Erebus issued two simple commands to the Thousand Sons:
No reading.
Work more. Pray more.
The reaction had been… explosive.
Magnus' anguish reached its peak when a rare, irreplaceable Prosperoan manuscript—one he had spent decades searching for—was seized by Erebus and burned as part of a ritual to summon entities from the Warp.
"EREBUS! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"
"I WILL JOIN HIM!"
"You dare insult our Primarch?! I WILL KILL YOU!"
The fury of the Thousand Sons echoed across the fortress.
Erebus merely scratched his ear.
Below him, the Word Bearers stood firm.
No, not Imperial Missionaries anymore.
They bore their true name again.
The sons of Lorgar Aurelian.
Word Bearers.
Though many among the Terran-born Legionaries were dissatisfied with Erebus, they obeyed Lorgar's will without question. Any Thousand Son foolish enough to strike at Erebus would find themselves humiliated—stripped of dignity, their precious tomes burned before their eyes.
Faith demanded obedience.
And Lorgar had demanded that Erebus be protected.
Lorgar himself was burdened with greater responsibilities now—recruitment, doctrine, theology, and the shaping of a Legion that stood at the intersection of divinity and rebellion.
The arrival of the Adeptus Mechanicus only deepened the transformation.
Their Magi examined the warriors of Colchis.
Most were deemed viable candidates for Astartes ascension.
Some… were not.
Kor Phaeron, aged and flawed, could only undergo rejuvenation treatments—his body preserved, but never perfected.
Erebus, however, was different.
According to the Emperor, he was something else entirely.
Not merely a son of Colchis.
Not merely a servant of faith.
Something… constructed.
Something… designed.
And though the Emperor had once claimed Erebus required no augmentation, that had proven to be a lie.
A new procedure awaited him on Terra.
Something unique.
Something dangerous.
For now, however, Erebus remained where he was needed most.
Magnus, despite everything, had begun to consider Erebus's proposals regarding Warp entities.
There was logic in them.
Dangerous logic—but logic nonetheless.
Yet one obstacle remained.
The Thousand Sons' bond with their so-called "familiars"—Warp entities masquerading as benign spirits—ran deep.
Too deep.
"How do we break that bond?" Magnus had asked.
Erebus's answer was simple.
"Deception."
Summon a daemon.
Let Ahriman summon his "familiar."
Allow the familiar to destroy the daemon.
Then summon the same daemon again.
Bind it.
Break it.
Interrogate it.
Extract its true name, its nature, its weaknesses.
Knowledge would strip away illusion.
Once understood, the "familiar" would no longer be trusted.
And once trust was broken…
Control would follow.
The first subject?
Ahriman.
Of course.
Erebus descended the steps of the fortress, his expression calm, almost bored.
Outside, a crowd of Thousand Sons had gathered.
Their anger was palpable.
"Erebus! Come out and fight me! I swear I won't kill you!"
Erebus smirked.
"Even your father would hesitate before speaking to me like that. Know your place."
He spread his arms.
"I'm right here. Either kill me… or leave. I have no time for children playing at war."
The crowd erupted.
At that moment, Ahriman arrived with Magnus' Sekhmet guard, attempting to disperse them.
Then Erebus pointed.
"You. Ahriman. Fight me."
Ahriman froze.
"…No."
He exhaled sharply.
"Even my Primarch struggles against you, and you want me to fight someone immune to psychic power? I'm not suicidal."
Erebus tilted his head.
"Hmph. Fine. I'll find you someone more… suitable."
Moments later, Ahriman learned who his opponent would be.
And his blood ran cold.
Lorgar Aurelian stepped forward.
A Primarch.
A psyker.
A zealot.
Ahriman nearly fled.
But Magnus was watching.
Encouraging.
Expecting.
There would be no escape.
Behind Lorgar, Erebus and Kor Phaeron whispered encouragement.
"Same as always," Erebus murmured. "Break him with words first."
Kor Phaeron nodded. "If you lose, we'll rewrite the outcome in scripture."
Lorgar sighed.
He truly did not want this recorded in the Lectitio Divinitatus.
Still, he stepped forward, staff in hand.
He looked at Ahriman.
And spoke.
"You pathetic wretch—was your gene-sire drunk when he shaped your mind? Or merely careless?"
The insult struck like a psychic blade.
Ahriman snapped.
"For Prospe—!"
He never finished.
Lorgar charged.
The impact was immediate, brutal, and undeniable.
Ahriman was sent crashing across the ground.
"We won! Excellent!"
Erebus applauded, delighted.
Magnus exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Erebus… I am glad you stand with the Imperium."
Erebus turned, smiling faintly.
"And if I didn't?"
Magnus' eye burned with restrained fury.
"I would hunt you to the edge of the galaxy… and end you."
For a brief moment, he remembered the past—
Simpler days.
Days when "disciplining" Erebus had been a rare pleasure.
Now?
Now things were different.
Lorgar, he could tolerate.
But Erebus?
No.
If he must suffer this… thing…
Then his brothers would share the burden.
All of them.
Magnus swore it silently.
What he endured—
They would endure.
One by one.
End of Chapter 36
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