"Two brand new heads."
Horus looked at the twin Primarchs standing in the blizzard, his brow furrowing as he momentarily paused in surprise.
+From the beginning to the end, I only ever created a single Twentieth Primarch.+
+Or rather, I never finished the Twentieth.+
The girl gazed at the two figures before her. +When Erda attempted to cast you into the stars, the original Twentieth Primarch was incomplete. His fragile embryo was destroyed directly by a Warp storm, causing him to die then and there.+
+But perhaps the Warp storm catalyzed a mutation in his genetic sequence, or perhaps the moment of death awakened the Warp essence within him, granting him a unique ability.+
+Cut off one head, and two shall grow—the power of the Hydra, the power of self-fission.+
+Every time he is killed by another, the Twentieth Primarch undergoes a division... The first time gave birth to Alpharius and Omegon.+
+Later, Omegon was killed during the Great Heresy, and from him, these two were born: Beta and Gamma. The secondary and the newborn, the continuation of Omegon's will.+
"Precisely. We are the two new heads grown from the severed neck of Omegon," said one of the twin Primarchs. "I am Beta, the secondary."
"We also carry on Omegon's loyalty. The Twentieth Primarch never betrayed you, nor the Emperor's will, and neither shall we," said the other. "I am Gamma, the newborn."
"Never betrayed?" Horus's brow remained tight. Details of the Great Heresy flashed through his mind as he realized the implications.
+Both Alpharius and Omegon were loyal to me, but Alpharius leaned toward me as the Emperor, while Omegon leaned toward me as the Dark King.+
+The Cabal that enlightened Omegon was the product of my own will, crossing through time to influence the past.+
The Cabal. Horus knew of that order—a secret sect composed of several xenos races and some humans. They had once tried to facilitate Horus's victory, hoping he would destroy humanity to "starve" Chaos. Recalling it now, Horus felt the Cabal's plan was pure nonsense. Can cutting off a river starve the ocean?
Obviously not. The Cabal's actions were actually pushing for the birth of the Dark King. Having heard this confirmation from the girl, Horus was finally certain.
The girl waited in silence, her hollow gaze fixed on the leaden, heavy clouds, as if waiting for something without a word. There was nothing; no movement behind the clouds.
"You do not trust us," Beta, the Alpha Primarch, complained.
Gamma nodded as well. "It is as if we would betray you and leak your presence here to the Gods."
"You are indeed not trustworthy," Horus said with a slight nod, his gaze remaining wary.
"You are right. Then that disaster ten thousand years ago must have been called the 'Beta-Gamma Heresy'!"
"Yes, yes! Beta and Gamma are so wicked! They started the Great Heresy, left the Emperor on the Golden Throne for ten millennia, and let the Empire rot! Truly evil!"
Horus's expression twitched.
The girl silently withdrew her gaze from the clouds. She had to admit that summoning these two born of Omegon via the Cabal was a risky move. If these two had other plans, she would surely be exposed to the Gods. This was why she chose to meet them on this planet—a graveyard of dead gods.
The Emperor had once excavated materials for the Dionysian Spear here, and his influence still lingered. She could use this to seep into the accumulated death of the planet. If the Gods surrounded them, she could truly kill the dead divinities within, detonating the forgotten Old Gods and discarded timelines to create chaos and escape.
It seemed that either Beta and Gamma still held Omegon's loyalty, or Alexander knew exactly what she was planning and chose not to strike yet.
The girl threw the die, and it landed back in her palm. "The Enlightener," she said softly.
"Oh, it's our dear brother Lorgar," Gamma interjected, glancing at the die.
The girl nodded and looked at Gamma.
"What?" Gamma blinked, looking slightly confused.
The girl said nothing and reached out her finger...
Candlelight flickered, and pain spread. Lorgar lit his quill and carved searing words into his own flesh, forming burning scars to suppress the sharp shadows. These were the wounds left by Corax. The shadows were constantly trying to burrow into his bones, tear his existence, and break his soul. Only scriptures full of faith managed to contain the intrusion.
"My son, my Urizen," a slightly aged voice spoke. A figure in Terminator armor appeared in the flickering light.
"Kor Phaeron," Lorgar whispered the old man's name. Since the death of Erebus, Kor Phaeron had won the internal power struggle within the Word Bearers, taking control of nearly the entire Legion. This had earned him more of Lorgar's trust.
"We are praying for your health," Kor Phaeron said.
"I do not care for that," Lorgar shook his head. "The Gods will not respond."
Kor Phaeron opened his mouth slightly. "The Gods... Chaos will not abandon us." His voice held a trace of fear.
The will and tendencies of the Gods had changed. Kor Phaeron knew this, Lorgar knew this, and even many ordinary Word Bearers sensed it. The Gods had even prevented Kor Phaeron from spreading the "True Faith" in the wake of the Emperor's death. They warned him not to cause trouble at this moment.
How ridiculous. The Chaos Gods were protecting mortals, telling the Word Bearers not to cause trouble.
"It is not the first time the Gods have abandoned us."
"Do you remember? For a long time after Horus died, we could not feel their presence."
Lorgar's voice grew deep. "And now, there is an existence among the Gods that resists Chaos."
"We have long fallen from favor."
"I suspect many of my sons are terrified because of this."
Lorgar looked at Kor Phaeron, his eyes shimmering with golden light. "But Chaos has not abandoned us. Chaos remains."
Kor Phaeron's throat moved. He didn't quite understand. To him, the Gods were Chaos, and Chaos was the Gods.
"My Lord, if the Gods have chosen to ignore us, where are we to find Chaos?"
Lorgar smiled and tapped Kor Phaeron's chest. "Chaos is here. Your heart is Chaos, and the Primordial Truth is within it."
Kor Phaeron stared blankly.
"Do you not believe me?" Lorgar smiled. "Roboute Guilliman once ripped open my chest and pulled out my heart, but there was clearly no Chaos inside."
"Chaos is a tendency, a massive collective of will. Chaos has infinite possibilities and defines the Warp. Chaos is will, and will is Chaos."
"Chaos has infinite faces. You are Chaos, I am Chaos. As long as we believe enough, Chaos is within us."
"Kor Phaeron, remember what I say: It is not God who made man in His image, but man who creates God in his."
"The Gods can influence us, and we can influence them. They are distant now only because the most powerful one among them resists Chaos."
"He has not yet been enlightened. He does not yet know the mysteries of the Primordial Truth. We can teach Him... This is a true merit of faith, far beyond preaching to mortals."
Kor Phaeron remained silent. He truly didn't understand what Lorgar intended to do.
Lorgar sighed, seemingly dissatisfied with his mentor's dullness. "How is the Beast of the Primordial Truth?"
"Difficult to tame. Strange—the daemons of the Gods are attached to him, yet he is not under control," Kor Phaeron said, frowning.
"He is a miraculous work. Vashtorr considers him his final creation, pouring in all his understanding of Chaos. The Eightfold Realm is woven upon him, making him closer to the Primordial Truth than anyone. Closer to Chaos itself."
"He is an icon, a symbol. We can use it to achieve extraordinary things..."
Thinking of the beast, Lorgar smiled. Capturing him had taken a great deal of effort. "Abaddon. The Bottomless Pit, the Place of Ruin. Destruction, Perishing, Ruins, Graveyard, Underworld... How fitting his name is now."
"Find a way to tame him. Make him follow our will."
Kor Phaeron bowed and stepped back, exiting the narrow hidden chamber.
Shortly after, Lorgar lit three candles. Purple, red, and blue flames danced before him. "Lord of Thirst, Prince of Darkness, Lord of Excess."
"Lord of Blood, Brazen Monarch, God of War."
"Lord of Change, the Great Sorcerer, the Supreme Eagle."
Lorgar whispered the titles. Fire surged, and the heads of a serpent, a hound, and a bird appeared in the flames.
"I thought you could convince the Lord of Decay," Lorgar said to the three heads.
+Deception/Fraud/Trickery/Hoax+
A sharp voice rose from the purple fire. Trillions of obscene wills intertwined, conveying anger and screams.
+He is not our ally/He is our enemy/His skull is my prey+
A bloodthirsty voice echoed from the crimson flame.
+Change has stagnated/Addicted to feudal superstition/Addicted to numerology/Fool/Fool/Fool+
Constant bird cries came from the blue fire. Reality became blurred and dark.
+The Dark King's brat has been born+
+Hurry+
+Tear apart Alexander's existence+
+Spread the Truth to him+
+Make him accept Chaos+
Complex voices rang in Lorgar's head. Golden blood flowed from his eyes. He understood what the Gods wanted—Slaanesh, Khorne, and Tzeentch had accepted cooperation on the surface, but remained hostile to the newborn god. They wanted to tear, cut, and disperse him, drowning his mortal mind in the tide of Chaos. They wanted to turn his internal contradictions against him, splitting him into two realms of divinity. This wouldn't weaken him; it would make him stronger and more fused with the Primordial Truth.
This required a grand ritual. Abaddon, the icon of the Primordial Truth, would be the key...
"Brat," Lorgar weighed the word.
"I do not understand. What are you truly fighting for?"
"The Dark King will eventually revive. It is inevitable. What is your purpose in delaying?"
"And what does that brat want? What do you gain by destroying her?"
Lorgar asked repeatedly, "What way have you found to suppress the birth of the Dark King?"
The three flames flickered, seemingly hesitating.
Lorgar felt insulted. "You doubt me?"
"You think I would side with that fragile brat? That shadow who calls herself my father?"
"No. I tell you, I never will."
"I am the most devout servant of the Primordial Truth. I only serve Chaos itself, and its eternal, infinite divinity."
The flames flickered again, deciding Lorgar could be told.
Three voices spoke in unison:
+The Dark King is destined to revive. It must happen.+
+But it does not have to be the Emperor. And it does not have to be this powerful.+
+This is the plan proposed by Alexander—the Saint Doraemon, the Malicious Art, the Greedy Dissolution.+
+Let a false past replace the real one.+
+But the existence of the brat is the evidence that the Emperor becomes the Dark King.+