Chapter 441: Why Do You Only Come Now?
The time had come.
Lion El'Jonson had cast us aside. The Emperor, who once demanded our loyalty, had forgotten us. The powers of the Empyrean had come knocking. Now, we had to decide: continue to endure, submit to the darkness, or rise and fight for our home and our people.
As the ramp slowly descended and the Termite Assault Drill dropped into the blasted breach, Merian caught a glimpse of the sacred hall where the Knights had once sworn their oaths.
There, sat Caliban's once-greatest ruler.
He wore gleaming armor, his face aged considerably, like an ancient hero. Luther's haggard visage was worn from his tireless labor for the people of Caliban. At this moment, he was studying page after page of ancient grimoires. Lord Cypher was closest to him, standing upon a pyre.
Merian focused on his breathing.
In his mind, images of the Fallen rolled past.
Lord Cypher was wreathed in blue flame. The fire ignited him, and even from a distance, Merian could hear the wails erupting from him.
Glowing runes covered Luther's body, his face illuminated by the same terrible fire. Lord Astelan's chest wound smoked—seemingly from a brief skirmish—and he had lost the ability to resist, his face twisted in pain as he slowly sank to his knees.
The assault drill's void shield rippled as it deflected incoming fire.
Luther and his inner circle had made their choice.
Do we stand with those who despise us, choosing loyalty and continuing as executioners oppressing our kin?
Or do we choose our own path, relying on powers from the Empyrean to protect the innocent from those who exploit and corrupt them?
No. We still have a choice.
The roar of thrusters intensified. As the assault ramp deployed, the vanguard storm troops secured the elevator shaft. A massive block of iron dropped, preemptively detonating the sensor mines, before the heavy lifter carrying the super-heavy vehicles landed with a massive tremor.
Restraints released with the clatter of metal and the whine of servo-motors. Air, scorched hot by countless weapons, rushed in.
The assault hatches were thrown open. Teleport homers bloomed. Dark Angels leapt into action, their movements accompanied by thunderous noise. Bolters emptied their magazines; power swords pulsed with destructive blue light like vibrant deep-sea life.
We can stand beside our kin, continuing as Knights, not relying on the vile powers of the Warp gods, but relying on communication to unite us, relying on concrete action to protect the innocent from those who exploit and corrupt them.
We can make this choice.
"For Humanity!"
"Today is the day you die!"
Around him, young warriors unfamiliar to Merian shouted their battle cries.
From the moment these vibrant Dark Angels charged, time seemed to accelerate. Merian felt his body react without conscious thought, catching up to everyone else in the intricate torrent of death.
"Something feels off."
Ramesses spoke while simultaneously roasting Rohe about setting the encryption key to 'Perturabo makes the Lion Warmaster,' wrestling with Nurgle, and watching the Lion boil with rage.
"Nurgle's ritual is being pushed forward, true, but it's definitely not here."
"He regrets it."
Arthur watched Luther charging towards him from the mist.
"It's that simple."
This Fallen, in his grotesque state, made no attempt to hide his form. Nor did those who followed him. Hundreds of Order Knights swarmed forward, followed by many voices.
They spouted gibberish, stripped of the last shred of reason, grunting as they ran, more beast than man.
Veterans shouted the name of Humanity as their blades cut down a Calibanite leader, splitting his face down to the shoulder. Seeing the once-familiar face twisted into such a form, they felt a trance-like disorientation, as if they had been transported to a primitive, savage world stuck in the stone age, rather than the ancestral home of knightly clans.
Luther's warriors were already outnumbered.
His cloudy eyes scanned the surroundings.
He had pinned his hopes on the Lion's consistent character dragging this planet into the fires of war. It was expected. The moment the Lion made up his mind, his only command to the Legion would be to make the planet scream in agony.
In fact, this was the only way he could think of to win against a Primarch.
However, when the Primarch appeared before him, he saw clearly that the war was already lost.
Not lost to equally cruel violence, but—
This is merely an act of resistance against tyranny. Nothing more.
Luther was cruel, letting the people of Caliban bear the Lion's wrath. Luther was selfish, forcing loyal knights to become his accomplices.
But his goal, his constant goal, was merely to save Caliban and protect its people.
So he had to use every means necessary.
Creak.
His grip on the sword tightened.
Luther thought of Lord Cypher's suggestions, of his constant talk about the power of the Empyrean, the words that Caliban needed to be liberated.
He could barely recall when this notion began to seem correct in his mind—at least partially correct. For decades, trapped on this planet, rising up against the Lion was more to punish him, to punish Caliban's leader, than out of a true belief in victory.
In the past, he had always resisted such thoughts.
Until he received strong suggestions from those he trusted—Astelan, Zahariel, the monsters of the Empyrean, the monsters of Caliban. So he strove for more.
Yes, the knowledge given by Typhus and Erebus helped him greatly. Zahariel brought him different knowledge, even promises from the Warp gods—promises that Caliban could become part of the Empyrean, forever free from the galaxy's threats.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Not like this.
Order had returned to Caliban's surface. Massive armies, sufficient supplies, a new power expanding its control, a new leader knitting people together.
The intensity of the civil war was compressed to a minimum. The council had shown them who the real enemy was.
Then the Knight named Arthur arrived before the Angelicasta.
He arrived so perfectly in time.
Seeing this Primarch, Luther felt Fate had played a colossal joke on him.
Why do you only come now?
Why did you choose this exact moment?
Resentment, self-blame, confusion.
Complex emotions coiled in his heart, causing Luther immense pain.
He felt the whole world had been torturing him, from the moment the Lion became the Primarch of the First Legion until now.
From his exile after a fierce argument with the Lion over his hesitation to disarm a nuke during the Sarosh campaign; from being completely confined to Caliban by the Lion after seeking honor for his knights in Horus's crusade; to rebelling for Caliban now...
Every decision yielded the cruelest result. Every decision slapped him in the face, telling him he was wrong.
Even his sudden awakening, his backstabbing of the traitors, bore the shadow of other Warp gods.
Luther's heart bled.
He was a puppet. The whispers of the gods were not bait used by predators to lure prey, but the true yearnings within people's hearts. Chaos does not create a person's desire out of thin air; it adds fuel to the malicious desires deep within, making them make decisions the gods hope for.
Fantasizing again.
Across the kilometers-long corridor, the psychic power awakened through sorcery was suppressed the moment the Lord of Knights appeared in his vision. Even Zahariel, wailing in the flames behind him, finally fell to the ground, reduced to a pile of rotten meat.
Blood sprayed, flesh scattered.
Watching these knights fighting for the Lord of Knights, Luther couldn't help but fantasize: if he were one of them, leading such a squad, cruising among the stars for honor, fighting for ideals...
The illusory scene was stripped away.
The figure of the Lord of Knights became exceptionally clear before Luther.
He knew he wouldn't see the Lion. The Primarch before him was the true master of this battlefield now.
Now, revenge was everything.
Revenge was the whole truth. Revenge was the only thing left, the final expression of his emotions against this world. Not practiced for any external motive, but purely for revenge itself.
Revenge against the Lion. Revenge against all the injustice I have suffered.
Luther could no longer stop pointing his sword at the enemy.
Not now.
Never again.
"I am coming!"
Luther shouted in a low voice.
He spoke over the vox to his colleagues corrupted by Warp powers. These knights were gradually being torn apart by the army along with the daemons. His loyal colleagues might have heard his voice, but acted as if they hadn't.
No response.
No one could respond to him anymore.
Loyalists despised him. The Fallen mocked him. And he was caught in the middle, just like he was caught between the Lion and Caliban back then.
Alone.
Only those who wanted to use him chose to pay attention to him. He was the source of chaos.
Arthur did not wait for him. He focused on coordinating the battlefield, blending into his honor guard, not changing the most secure approach just because of Luther's presence.
Luther could hear the Round Table Knights behind Arthur forming a defensive line. Shields slammed into the ground with heavy thuds. Bolters racked slides with crisp clacks. Only when he got close did the Lord of Knights press forward. No one would interfere with the coming duel, nor would any enemy hinder him.
Although hundreds of warriors fought for control of this Hall of Honor, the two of them seemed isolated from the world.
The opponent replaced the Lion, came here, and ended it all.
Knight and Beast.
Knight and Knight.
Knight and Traitor.
Luther skirted a pile of burning metal railings, picking up speed. Arthur took one last look before raising his longsword into a stance.
Arthur stood his ground, meeting the impact. The two collided. Power swords crashed together. Luther was thrown back—an Astartes stripped of psychic power could hardly match a Primarch in physical confrontation. Then Arthur flicked his longsword, shedding the force from the blade.
Luther spun around and charged at him again.
Then, the blade tore through his body.
The surrounding noises fell silent in an instant.
The whispers of the Evil Gods, the din of the battlefield, the mysterious connection between Ouroboros and him.
"Typhus is on his way. Caliban has been completely corrupted. The Plague God's ritual is complete. The shattering of Caliban is foretold. I facilitated all this. I cannot stop it. I can only die..."
Luther mumbled, chanting.
"You—"
His voice was almost unrecognizable, leaving only ground teeth and the bloody breath from dry lips.
"Why do you only come now?"
In the Empyrean, Nurgle's annoyed roar spread alongside Tzeentch's chaotic laughter.
"Tzeentch!"
Nurgle banged the cauldron angrily, watching the predetermined events develop in an unknown direction. Watching Luther, who should have been the Everchosen of the Four Gods, choose a completely different decision from the past with the help of another Warp deity.
"Hehe."
In the Crystal Labyrinth, Tzeentch watched the changes in the two space-times with curiosity, laughing cheerfully. He enjoyed the spectacle.
The Lord of Change loved this kind of shift, especially the absolute unknown brought by these four.
Damn changes.
Nurgle banged the ladle hard again. Several Great Unclean Ones were born from the soup dripping from the edge of the ladle. Annoyed, Nurgle threw these Greater Daemons along with their legions into the Crystal Labyrinth, then continued to sprinkle a handful of plants into the soup pot.
Forced by circumstances, the Plague God ultimately had to increase his investment.
"..."
Typhus could clearly sense the waves pushing the fleet forward becoming faster.
"Pulled back from the brink. A pity."
Ramesses couldn't help but sigh.
Arthur pushed aside the corpse of the last victim of the Black Sword and looked around.
Astelan had been subdued. The remaining Chaos-tainted members had been slain. The moment they breached Luther's fortress, the offensive was effectively over.
Next...
"Ramesses, is your test complete?"
Arthur asked, seemingly unaffected by Luther's words.
"Pretty much done."
Ramesses dragged Tuchulcha along, drawing in the void with his fingers.
Aside from preventing the Evil Gods from interfering with the wormhole, Ramesses mainly needed to conduct independent experiments to verify their ability to interfere with space-time, and whether their subsequent actions would have negative impacts on the current timeline.
Of course, they couldn't experiment recklessly on the Dark Angels, but daemons were hardly rare commodities.
"I think you can go bold. As long as you don't get stuck on the other side."
Ramesses stroked his chin, analyzing the experimental results, which included massive amounts of data on daemons.
He propped the suddenly shrinking rift back to its original state and said:
"Put it this way: the daemons you hacked to death are still alive and kicking in my timeline. But the daemons marked by my spells, then banished and killed by Grey Knights on Caliban, died in my timeline. Then, those things that were not directly interfered with by us over the ten thousand years remain unchanged."
"In other words, our interference is the most direct. As long as you don't return, that era is an independent line. As long as you return, except for the things we directly interfered with coming directly to our point, that line will converge directly to the point where we are. Now is still now. There won't be abstract problems like the Grandfather Paradox, nor do you need to worry about being unable to do anything."
"Then the plan of letting Arthur develop for ten thousand years and then supporting the future won't work?"
Romulus's voice rang out.
He looked regretful.
Beside him, Karna was dazedly eating desserts to fuel his brain. On the other end of the psychic communication were a serious-faced Calgar listening to orders, and Tigurius, the Ultramarines Chief Librarian, who looked visibly haggard as if infected by some disease.
At this moment, the Grand Fleet was making a short warp jump in the middle of the Ultima Segmentum. Romulus was remotely assisting Calgar in planning Macragge's defenses.
"Yeah. After all, the unification of the Three Artifacts is a process; it can't last long. If Arthur really gets stuck, he'll be in solitary confinement. It's hard to say if we could even contact him later."
Ramesses nodded as a matter of course.
He actually didn't approve of this plan from the start. Dual-line operations were high risk, and executing it would be messy and impossible to sort out.
It was fine now. Through this difficult-to-replicate time travel, they verified their state of existence on this universe's timeline. In the future, they could steadily advance their plans, focus on the galaxy itself, and find ways to kill the Four Gods. No need to pay attention to messy things like the so-called multiverse.
"So my plan to move Caliban along with the humans on the surface is feasible?"
Arthur ignored the messy questions and asked directly.
"Feasible."
Ramesses nodded.
"But before that, you have trouble."
"I know."
Arthur nodded.
Luther had already told him.
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