Chapter 351: The Onlooker Sees More Clearly Than the Player
Inside the World Eaters' fighting arena, Hades suddenly sneezed. His hands—gripping twin axes—paused as he shook his head.
"What's wrong, brother?"
Standing beside Hades, Angron asked. Though he could no longer fight full-force in brutal combat, the ever-restless Angron had no problem teaching Hades how to wield war-axes.
Hades blinked.
"Maybe… someone's cursing me? I'm not sure?"
He rubbed his nose.
"Forget it. Watch me pull off a trick first."
Angron laughed loudly, then watched as Hades began juggling the two axes.
. . . .
"When faced with a being stronger than you—beyond your comprehension—must you submit and twist that being into a god?"
"Then explain their power, their mercy, and their scope. What mortal wields such might?"
Mortarion took a deep breath and drank again.
"Having great power doesn't automatically make one a god. Have you ever seen—"
The Lord of Death spoke with provocation.
The Khan coughed lightly.
"Mortarion, what have you actually seen?"
The Great Khan's words were swift and sharp, cutting clean into the heated argument. They struck Mortarion like a warning—he had said too much.
Though he despised every one of his brothers, Mortarion still did not wish for them to truly experience what he once had.
Except for Konrad Curze, Magnus, and Perturabo.
But Mortarion quickly realized the Khan knew something—and the presence of at least one rational mind here helped him rein himself back in.
The insult that had just reached his tongue slid away unspoken. Mortarion paused, then let out a low, sullen laugh.
"I have seen the unimaginable."
Mortarion took another swig. He glanced at Lorgar with open disdain. Through the earlier "friendly discussion," the Lord of Death had clearly judged Lorgar for what he was: a devout shell—pious and burning with the madness of conversion—yet forever incapable of understanding the "gods" he worshipped.
His so-called gods were nothing but the projection of his own desires.
A twisted zealot. Mortarion sneered.
"I'm certain I've seen more—more than even you."
He looked at Lorgar. The Word Bearer had seen only that radiant psyker-liar and the silent Hades, nothing more.
Behind Mortarion, Fulgrim stared blankly at the bottle in Mortarion's hand and muttered:
"I have also seen the unimaginable."
The angel beside him smiled with grace, sipping wine without a change in expression.
Sanguinius smiled. He thought Mortarion had surely never seen the Warp projection of his so-called Commander.
Lorgar calmly watched Mortarion.
"You cannot understand me, and I struggle to understand you."
"But I know the truth. He chose me to reveal the truth. He is God. Our Father is God. That is the sole reason I wage war."
"He chose me, and I chose Him."
Mortarion let out a derisive chuckle—but said no more.
For even he could not be certain how far that liar's schemes extended.
"Then go believe in your God-Emperor—just don't turn everything around Him into divinity."
Lorgar took a deep breath, ready to loudly refute Mortarion as nothing more than a blind man choosing ignorance—but the Lord of Death stood up abruptly and strode down the stands.
"I'm leaving."
Only then did Lorgar notice that the Death Guard legion below had already marched off.
Lorgar let out a small, frustrated sigh—yet his conviction remained unshaken, for he had witnessed the truth.
He turned to the rest of his brothers:
The Angel was still drinking with Fulgrim, who looked slightly disheveled, while the Khan continued to act like a spectator, admiring the view below the seating tiers.
Lorgar rose in disappointment.
He decided to seek Magnus again.
. . .
Sanguinius gently swirled the wine in his glass. The Great Angel pondered.
The Emperor had tacitly approved Lorgar's doctrines, allowing the Word Bearers to spread religion. Though they had always done so, the Emperor and the Imperium had previously held a distant, disapproving stance.
Now, the Emperor had acknowledged it openly.
The Angel watched the crimson liquid, taking a thoughtful sip.
He was unlike Dorn or Guilliman in their extremism. On Baal, Sanguinius had always allowed the religion founded around him.
It was a term of his negotiation with the Emperor:
The people of Baal would keep their faith, and in return, Sanguinius would serve the Imperium.
Yet the Emperor had never spoken of such arrangements to Horus.
He restricted the religious mandate to the Word Bearers alone.
The Angel rested his chin on his hand.
What did that imply?
And the Warmaster…the Silent Sisterhood…
The Emperor was planning something.
Something enormous was coming.
Sanguinius contemplated quietly—while most of his brothers remained enamored by the announcement of the Warmaster title.
He idly swirled his glass once more, his thoughts returning to Mortarion.
If the Silent Sisterhood was tied to the Emperor's darker plans, then Mortarion—so closely linked to their leader—must know something as well.
Mortarion was afraid.
The Angel could feel it.
The Lord of Death kept a string wound tight inside himself—waiting in terror for something.
And the Emperor's words to Horus—
Spend more time with the Silent Sisterhood…
Even during the burning of the Perfect City, the Sisters had appeared.
Though the Khan had repeatedly confirmed to Lorgar that no Warp presence existed there—if that were truly the case, why would the Emperor dispatch them?
Silent Sisterhood.
Warp.
The burning of the Perfect City.
The God-Emperor.
The Emperor's secretive guidance.
The Warmaster.
Mortarion's vigilance…
The Angel lowered his gaze, assembling the final piece of the puzzle.
And at last, he found it—
Sanguinius himself was a god within Baal's religion.
He understood the power of faith. Both upon the faithful, and upon the one who is worshipped.
Faith held power in the Warp.
Sanguinius knew this.
He, like the Khan, recognized the Imperial Truth for the lie it was—for the Warp did contain blasphemous existences.
He emptied his glass in one final swallow.
A calamity was coming.
From the Warp.
Sanguinius shivered softly as he breathed out his conclusion:
If the Silent Sisterhood could not halt that catastrophe—If the blindfold of scientific imperial truth prevented humanity from saving itself—then belief would be the only cure.
The Emperor was preparing a fallback.
The Sisters could fight those who wielded psychic power.
Faith would empower ordinary humans to resist them.
Yet if He was already prepared for large populations to embrace religion…
Then, the Angel wondered—
How many would the Imperium sacrifice in the coming apocalypse?
And among them… would Horus be one of the sacrifices?
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