Deception was inevitable. In the young girl's eyes, Alexander had etched trickery, fraud, and concealment into his very bones, turning them into instinct. Perhaps this was because, from the moment Alexander entered this world, he was filled with an intense distrust of the entire universe.
Even Sanguinius, on the eve of his resurrection, was subject to his suspicion and vigilance. Thus, the girl felt the likelihood of Alexander telling the Emperor the truth back then was slim. However, she didn't believe he had lied entirely; he likely revealed fragments of reality but buried them within falsehoods to intentionally muddy the waters.
While the girl agonized over whether all of this was part of Alexander's calculations, several censers swept past her face. Concentrated toxic gas from Barbarus splattered out, quickly covering the nearby corridor. These toxins could not harm the girl, of course, but for Mortarion, an environment saturated with Barbarus's poisonous mist made him feel more at home. It was better suited for the martial arts he had honed during the war on Barbarus.
Having lost his Daemon Primarch shell formed of Nurgle's warp energy, Mortarion rediscovered the combat techniques engraved in his soul from before his ascension. His scythe lunged silently from the thick mist toward the girl's neck. She leaned aside to dodge, but Mortarion's figure appeared before her with startling speed.
His unarmored fist smashed directly toward her face. A mysterious sensation suddenly arose—it seemed the steps Mortarion had taken in the mist served some ritualistic or Warp-based purpose. The girl actually felt as though this punch was unavoidable. The bony fist struck her face; golden sparks splattered from her features, and bits of ash drifted away, scorching Mortarion's hand.
Using the force of the blow, the girl tumbled out of the range of the Barbarus mist, her head slamming heavily against the ground. But the moment she landed, she sensed something near her. Glancing sideways, she saw a crude red envelope.
Driven by the shockwave of her landing, the envelope flew into the air and, by some strange coincidence, landed on her chest. From within the envelope, a stack of Macragge-standard hundred-dollar bills slowly slid out. On the bills was a line written in High Gothic: "Our horoscopes align, our fates match; take my wealth, borrow my life."
An inexplicable sense of weakness manifested out of thin air within the girl.
She dazed for a moment before quickly realizing this was "Life-Borrowing Money." She was aware of such ancient feudal superstitions, but they were usually just that—superstitions. They were extremely crude ways of utilizing the Warp, relying entirely on the belief of both the borrower and the victim to have even a minor effect.
But this...
Could it be Numerology?
At that moment, Mortarion charged out of the mist with nearly eerie steps. He stopped every seven paces and paused every twenty-one, his rhythm clear and powerful. A strange aura clung to him, causing the Warp to blur around his form.
The girl frowned, unable to immediately grasp the principles behind Mortarion's Numerology. Why was the effect of such a thing so powerful? Simply because Nurgle believed it to be real?
No...
Could Alexander have used self-hypnosis to make himself believe in Numerology?
If a Triple-Godhood entity believes Numerology is real, then its effects become real. Yet, the girl was completely ignorant of its logic, making it difficult to counter.
It was evident that while Nurgle was fighting the girl earlier, Mortarion had secretly left numerous Numerological traps throughout the Black Manor—bizarre and impossible to guard against.
Simultaneously, a powerful psychic surge roared from a distance. Azure psychic energy spread through the corridor like frost. The silver armor of a Grey Knight flashed by as a blade, ignited by psychic heat, swung down toward the girl.
Ash erupted from the wound Mortarion had left on the girl's face, instantly transforming into several flaming Astartes who raised heavy shields to intercept Kaldor Draigo.
At the same time, Janus's voice rang out. Ancient and complex scriptures emerged from the air, crawling through the sky like tiny scarabs toward the girl. Mortarion also pressed forward with his eerie gait, swinging his scythe to kill, stirring up clouds of poison and Numerological warp energy.
The girl clicked her teeth, and the vast psychic power within her pulsed. In an instant, the scarabs burrowing toward her let out a chorus of wails and disintegrated, only to reform as Janus's figure nearby. The ash on the silver sword in Kaldor Draigo's hand also died out, leaving only the sharpness of the blade itself. Only the Numerological power on Mortarion remained unextinguished, piercing toward the girl like an arrow. As the scythe fell, a gash was torn across the girl's chest. Ash geysered out, instantly condensing into a massive, flaming Warlord-class Titan.
The deceased Titan crew within let out a roar of hatred for the living, charging toward Mortarion. But Mortarion's silhouette turned into a dark green phantom; his scythe instantly severed the Titan's leg. The Titan toppled and crumbled back into ash in the blink of an eye.
The girl took the opportunity to put distance between herself and the trio, rushing deeper into the corridor without hesitation. However...
Bang!
A barrier composed of dense, crowded numbers appeared out of thin air, forcibly halting her progress.
Janus looked at the scene with uncertainty. Even with the wisdom of a soul-shard of Magnus, he could not see through the technology Mortarion used for this barrier.
"What did you do?" Janus asked, looking at Mortarion.
Mortarion hesitated, not expecting Janus to speak to him in such a familiar tone. He glanced at Janus's single eye and was dazed for a moment.
"Magnus?"
He blinked, then offered a somewhat mysterious smile: "Want to learn?"
Janus's eyelid twitched; he instantly lost interest in talking to Mortarion. He chanted ancient incantations, and sharp psychic lightning surged toward the girl who was trying to break the barrier. Kaldor Draigo charged forward with his sword, and Mortarion followed with his scythe.
The girl frowned at the barrier. Breaking it with brute force would take a few seconds, but to destroy it through its internal logic...
She could accept that numbers had power, but she truly could not accept why Mortarion's incorrect calculations still had power.
Watching Janus, Draigo, and Mortarion close in, the girl realized she had to use her final trump card. The problem was, she wasn't sure if he could be controlled. That being had an uncontrollable hatred for the Warp—an extremism so profound that even the Emperor of old could not accept him.
He hated everything related to the Warp. Fearing humanity would be corrupted by it, he decided... to kill all of humanity so there would be no more worry of corruption.
The Emperor had to seal him away.
If he were released, his hatred for Janus, Draigo, and Mortarion would be inevitable; all three were too deeply connected to the Warp. But the girl's connection was even deeper, even if her goal was the same as his.
At this point, she couldn't afford to hesitate.
With a wave of her arm, ash filled the air and a rift appeared, spitting out a crude stone coffin.
She used the coffin as a shield, blocking the searing psychic lightning Janus unleashed.
Janus sensed something was wrong. "That is..."
Glimpses of the future appeared in Janus's single eye—fragments of...
"Argh!"
Janus let out a sharp cry of agony. Blood and blue flames erupted from his eye.
Mortarion's pace faltered for a split second. Numerology had also tipped him off to something. Three dice fell from his sleeve and rolled on the ground, but their faces were blank, showing no numbers at all.
Only Kaldor Draigo did not stop. The girl's impersonation of the Master of Mankind had incensed the Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights. Intense psychic energy distorted the Warp, turning everything around him into a chaotic blur. Searing psychic power, coupled with an iron will, wrapped around the Titan Sword as it hacked relentlessly at the stone coffin.
But the crude coffin shook violently. The lid was blown open by a burst of blazing blue fire, colliding with Draigo's sword and forcibly throwing him back.
A pair of snow-white wings unfurled from the coffin, with bright feathers seemingly woven from light. A tall figure slowly climbed out. Perpetual blue flames coiled around him. A face that could make one's heart stop was revealed—a bronze-skinned face with hair as black as night and eyes as bright as the morning star. His cheeks were slightly sunken, and his nose was high-bridged. Ethnically, he resembled the inhabitants of ancient Anatolia. It was the Emperor's face—like a younger version of the Emperor in his twenties.
The figure held a blade wreathed in blue fire, surveying his surroundings with cold indifference, seemingly observing the environment and gathering information.
+What is that? A clone of Father?+ Janus's voice echoed in the minds of Draigo and Mortarion.
Then, the figure snapped his gaze toward Janus, sensing the use of Warp power. Janus's chest suddenly exploded as azure fire struck like a meteor. Janus was sent flying, crashing into the ground. He struggled through the pain to climb back up, staring at the figure.
"I am the Angel," the figure said.
"That title belongs to Sanguinius now," Mortarion interjected from the side.
"I am his first son," the Angel said, ignoring Mortarion.
"Horus would have a grievance with that, Lion would have an opinion, and even Alpharius would have reservations," Mortarion continued.
"...Daemon of the Warp, die." The Angel's wings beat once, and he appeared beside Mortarion. Mortarion, having anticipated this, flung a handful of red envelopes from beneath his robes. Infused with the power of Numerology, they showered over the Angel. Simultaneously, Mortarion retreated rapidly, leaving seven rusted iron blades embedded in the ground. A sense of weakness manifested, instantly coiling around the self-proclaimed Angel, causing his knees to buckle slightly as he knelt on one leg.
"He is a weapon created by Father. He does indeed carry Father's genetic sequence. He existed long before our return, shaped to destroy the Great Enemy on Terra. But he is different from us... he is certainly no Primarch. He is pure hatred and destruction."
Mortarion spoke as he distanced himself: "Even Numerology struggles to show me how he was born... in fact, Numerology tells me he doesn't exist, that he is an ancient rumor, a discarded existence. I don't understand..."
"Hmm?"
The Angel's wings vibrated slightly, and deep blue flames erupted. The weakness Mortarion had inflicted through Numerology vanished instantly. Relying solely on his terrifying psychic power, he shattered the shackles of Numerology in a heartbeat.
The girl watched the Angel in silence. The Angel was an extraordinary weapon forged by the Emperor—primitive, crude, and crazed, yet immensely powerful. His essence came from the primal hatred living beings felt for Chaos. But that was exactly why he was so dangerous. Humanity—and indeed all life in the galaxy—can hardly be completely separated from the Warp. His extremism led him to conclude that humanity must be destroyed to prevent their fall to Chaos.
The Emperor had initially sealed him, but he was eventually unsealed and lost control due to an accidental operation by the Inquisition. Left with no choice, the Emperor—already seated upon the Golden Throne—made a decision: the Angel would never have existed. He discarded his very being, destroyed the history of his existence, and exiled his timeline, causing him to vanish from the memories of all living things, and naturally, from reality and history.
But the girl knew where that discarded history lay within the Warp. Her previous travels with Horus to planets where discarded things settled were specifically to secretly recover his sarcophagus.
The Angel stood still, not continuing his attack on Mortarion. He seemed to be receiving information from the Warp through his immense psychic power, catching up on current events.
He turned his head toward the girl. His eyes met hers, and their thoughts seemed to complete a million exchanges in a single instant.
Finally, the Angel nodded slightly to the girl, appearing to accept her proposal. Indeed, the total destruction of the entire galaxy and the Warp was a more thorough method than merely destroying humanity...
"...Numerology tells me," Mortarion said, taking a deep breath, "that we might be in trouble."