In the warp's twisted dimensions, Chaos surged like a tide. Fulgrim was wreathed in pink-violet god-power, the energy thickening to substance—countless tendrils bound the two Primarchs fast.
Corax's black pinions were snapped; Lorgar's scriptural chains shattered inch by inch—in absolute power, even the mightiest Primarchs were as fragile as infants.
"What a beautiful sight, my dear brothers." Fulgrim's voice mingled a hundred daemon screeches. He raised a crystal-studded finger, and chaos swelled like a storm at the gesture.
"See? This is the supreme authority even Father never touched. What Horus craved back then was but a pale shadow of the trinket in my palm."
When the Palace of Pleasure was first sealed, he had been lost, even went into hiding.
He feared his authority would be stolen; he feared other factions would strike. Without Slaanesh's protection, he was vulnerable.
But then something wondrous happened: the divine authority of one of the Four inexplicably appeared within him—
A special link formed, and Keeper of Secrets who once followed the God-Child of Slaanesh reached out to him in secret.
Now many Keepers had joined his banner. With time, his mastery of god-power grew. If he wished, he could anoint Chaos Astartes directly as Champions or Lords.
When he fought Corax earlier, he used only his Primarch strength and swordsmanship—no god-power.
Now, after invoking it, even Daemon Primarchs were ants before him. The gulf between a Chaos God and a Greater Daemon—
Was like that between a Greater Daemon and a mortal—immeasurable.
He didn't know why Slaanesh abandoned Her godhead—but since She had, he would not be polite. He would inherit all Her power—and in the end devour Her too.
Then surpass his Father—utterly surpass the Emperor—and achieve what he once dared not even imagine.
He would lead Chaos to destroy the Imperium, and turn all humanity's faith to himself.
The faith of all mankind would make him stronger than ever.
He would bless every artist, bless all bliss, and banish pain from the universe!
Make a perfectly blissful world of delight!
"Impossible." Lorgar's pupils shrank violently. His painstaking warp citadel was collapsing—pillars carved with billions of verses toppled—like the destruction he saw in the Monarchia reborn. "A Chaos godhead—how could—"
"This… this can't be. How… how did you get that power?" Lorgar stared, incredulous, at his gene-brother.
This bastard—what kind of dogshit luck did he have to obtain such god-power? Why—why choose him?
"Hahaha! Nothing is impossible, brother. Listen—I am more perfect than the former Chaos Power, for they have no flesh.
But I do—I can walk the material realm. When I fully devour the godhead, I will be the most perfect, most beautiful existence in the universe." Fulgrim's face was rapturous.
"Fulgrim! You may be strong now, but you cannot walk the material realm if you become a Chaos God.
As a Chaos God you are confined to the warp—utterly unable to set foot in realspace. If they could, the others would have done so long ago," the bound Corax snorted.
Even if by some fluke he became a god—he could no longer meddle in realspace. And even if he could—
His body couldn't withstand it. Even a Primarch's form cannot bear a Chaos God's power—not even a sliver.
"You're a relic, Corax. You've spent ten thousand years here—ten thousand years babysitting Lorgar.
You have no idea what's happened outside," Fulgrim sneered.
My good brother, how much do you know?
Even random Custodians who can gigantify, or new Knight frames, or new Titans, even Nurgle's Great Unclean Ones, Chaos Champions, Daemon Princes—
"What do you mean? What happened? What's become of the Imperium?" Corax asked.
Had something happened to the Imperium?
And he'd been here a full ten thousand years! He'd thought it only a few centuries!
"What happened? Our Primarch era is, in some sense, over. Father created a new kind of Primarch—beings called Cosmic Beast.
Fusions producing lifeforms—colossal entities now walking realspace. They possess power far beyond Primarchs—bodies of terrifying resilience.
And I will obtain such a body—enough to house a portion of my god-power," Fulgrim said with a cold smile.
Chaos gods excel at corruption—he could incubate a Cosmic Beast. If they resisted warp energies, if they couldn't be corrupted—
He could fall back to acquiring gigantification tech. Chaos Warpsmith Vashtorr had developed gigantification; he could obtain it regardless.
"Fulgrim, if you've already gained god-power, there's no need for me to serve you. You'll have hordes of Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes," Lorgar said.
"How pitiful, Lorgar—you likely don't know what's happened in the Imperium," Fulgrim sneered.
He had come to shatter his brother's faith and reveal a brutal truth.
"What do you mean, Fulgrim?"
"Lorgar, you've already returned to the Imperium. Our Father still sits on the Golden Throne, but he has recovered somewhat—he can even converse with people now. Several Primarchs have returned!
They were upgraded—by fusing with those Cosmic Beast—gaining anti-warp power, becoming super-lifeforms. And you are among them," Fulgrim said.
"That's impossible—I'm here. How could I have returned?" Lorgar said.
He thought Fulgrim was toying with him—always fond of jokes—but this was too cruel.
"I'm not joking. You have returned—and become Ecclesiarch of the Imperial Cult.
The Emperor re-acknowledged you—and even repented for destroying your Monarchia," Fulgrim said.
"Impossible—I'm right here. How could I have returned?" Lorgar repeated.
He was here—how could the Emperor enthrone him as Ecclesiarch? Wait—Ecclesiarchy?
"Is that so? Yet there is a Lorgar in the Imperium—he fused with an Cosmic Beast, and commands his own Astartes legion—the Paladins of the Creed.
Oh, right! You've been here ten thousand years—you don't even know what the Ecclesiarchy is. Let me tell you.
About eight thousand years ago—two millennia after Father took the Throne—humanity founded a church: the Ecclesiarchy.
A cult of the Emperor—worshiping Him as a god. Their holy text is yours. Though your Monarchia was destroyed,
The church you founded survived intact. Your creed endured—and because of it, the Emperor grew stronger," Fulgrim said.
"How… how could this be? Then my betrayal was meaningless—my Monarchia's destruction meaningless? Why? Why?" Lorgar's composure cracked; he could not accept it.
Even the Raven Lord was shaken.
Could it be? Lorgar's writings truly became a church?
But if Father named Lorgar Ecclesiarch—then who is this in front of me?
Corax could feel the warp-deep essence in this brother. He was no impostor.
"I'll tell you the truth—cruel as it is!
He's your clone. My former gene-son—Fabius Bile, former Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children—made clones of Primarchs.
One was you. The Imperium found your clone—and your clone replaced you!
He took your place, your honors—became Ecclesiarch—sat in the seat you dreamed of." Fulgrim went for the heart.
He would wager that, upon learning this, Lorgar would collapse—and he was right.