That "brat" was the evidence of the Dark King's existence.
It was not difficult for Lorgar to understand the fragmented words of the Gods. What the Gods truly desired was to replace the history of the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy with a false, forged, and redacted version of history—turning the fact of "the Emperor becoming the Dark King" from truth into a lie. However, that brat herself was practically equivalent to the Dark King; she was the living proof of the Emperor's ascension. As long as she existed, the causality between the past and present remained a closed loop, nearly impossible to modify. Even if forcibly altered, her existence would stand as a denial of that new past, preventing a closed causal loop and rendering the effort meaningless.
"Who have you chosen to be the new Dark King?" Lorgar asked, staring at the three flickering candle flames.
+The Master of Ultramar++The Son of War++The Son of Vengeance++Number Thirteen++Roboute Guilliman+
Complex voices rose from the candlelight, and dense shadows emerged before Lorgar's eyes. It was a history—a version of events nesting within the order of Ultramar, attempting to turn falsehood into reality: a more powerful Ultramar; a Guilliman who had encountered several other Primarchs long before the Father's arrival; an Ultramar that stood as an equal and a competitor to the Terran Empire.
On the surface, the two empires had reached a cooperation and coexisted as one. But when no more planets remained in the galaxy for either to conquer, the two orders collided. The Terran Empire spoke of the rationality of the Imperial Truth, the Manifest Destiny of mankind, and the majesty of the Emperor. The Empire of Macragge spoke of the inclusivity of Ultramar, the prosperity of humanity, and the wisdom of Guilliman. Eventually, the contradiction between the two reached a point beyond the individual wills of the Emperor or Guilliman. Mankind craved a unified will, but the citizens of both empires believed their chosen monarch was the true representative of humanity's future.
And so, war erupted.
"Father, this was never what I wanted." "I never intended for my Ultramar to launch an attack." "We once fought side by side, together driving out the ignorance of the Old Night, together conquering the furthest reaches of the galaxy." "But humanity can only choose one path." "I believe humanity should live in a world that is more open, inclusive, prosperous, and harmonious." "The name of that world can only be Ultramar, not Terra." "This world likewise cannot allow the existence of a god, even if you deny your own divinity ten thousand times." "Humanity has only one chance for restoration." "I will not surrender the power of choice to you." "Let the war begin." "From the sky of Macragge to the sun of Terra." "Let the sea of stars boil." "Let the stars fall." "Let war end our differences." "I shall unify the galaxy under my will." "If I cannot... then let the galaxy burn."
The Lord of Ultramar drew his blade and declared war on the Lord of Terra.
This was a ritual. Lorgar quickly realized what lay beneath this war—it was a coronation, the coronation of the King of Ages. Whoever secured the final victory would become the collective avatar of humanity's will. In the eyes of the Warp, the differences between humans were often greater than those between humans and xenos. The wills of two different humanities pushed the Emperor and Guilliman toward the battlefield. The war set thousands of worlds ablaze; the two sides were evenly matched, and the conflict ground into a long, agonizing stalemate. As the quality of life plummeted and days grew bitter, only religion could comfort the souls of the people. Faith in the Emperor and faith in Guilliman began to surge. The monarchs of the two empires were viewed as divine beings. Believers prayed for their god to destroy the other. Half of humanity prayed for the destruction of the other half—was this not humanity praying for its own self-destruction?
Thus, when Roboute Guilliman drove his blade into the Emperor's chest; when Ahzek Ahriman watched in horror as the "Monarch" tarot card transformed into the "Dark King" amidst black sparks; and when the Emperor of Mankind let out his final lament—Roboute Guilliman was crowned as the King of Ages. He became the incarnation of the entire human race and the Dark King, the Destroyer of Worlds.
The galaxy burned, humanity fell, and the Dark King was crowned as the fifth Chaos God. Only a fraction of humanity escaped in time, hiding within "Saint Doraemon's" pocket to survive the catastrophe.
Lorgar began to understand the Gods' objective. Guilliman would replace the Emperor as the Dark King. Though the version of the Dark King that Guilliman ascended into would be powerful, he would be far weaker than the version the Emperor would have become. He would not be strong enough to defeat the Gods or destroy the galaxy and the Warp entirely; he would merely become another player in the Great Game. Meanwhile, Saint Doraemon could use this opportunity to protect a portion of humanity, allowing human civilization to endure.
Lorgar understood why the Gods were doing this, and he understood what they stood to gain. But the one thing he could not understand was: why Guilliman?
Why did it have to be Guilliman? How could Guilliman be allowed to stand alongside the Gods?
Lorgar clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into his skin, and droplets of blood flowed from his palms.
+Could it have been you?+
A sharp, mocking laugh came from the flickering candlelight. Slaanesh seemed to relish Lorgar's agony and jealousy.
+Only Guilliman. It could only ever be Guilliman.++Among the twenty sons, only Guilliman can create an order capable of replacing the Emperor to become the King of Ages.+
Lorgar's fingers dug deeper into his flesh. Of all the twenty-one brothers, the one Lorgar hated most was Guilliman. He took a deep breath. "If this is your choice, I accept it," Lorgar nearly roared.
+As it should be / Naturally / Of course++This matter is settled / Your opinion is not among our considerations++You shall complete your mission / Do not act willfully / You must tear apart Alexander+
The voices of the three gods intertwined. Lorgar could only obey their will, bowing his head slightly. "Once I tame that beast of the Primordial Truth, I can trigger the relics of that ancient war and enlighten 'him,' letting him know what the Primordial Truth truly is."
As Lorgar spoke, the three burning flames extinguished and vanished, leaving only a faint mist dissipating in the air. Lorgar exhaled—exhaustion, jealousy, pain, disgust, and confusion settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
It was easy to say, but far harder to do. The beast Vashtorr had created was nearly impossible to tame. Lorgar even began to wonder: Vashtorr had created Abaddon as a weapon to attack Alexander, pollute Alexander's faith, and drag him into the tide of Chaos—yet he never used it. Was it because even Vashtorr could not tame the beast?
No, Vashtorr was a rigorous and meticulous entity. He must have prepared a way to tame Abaddon... he simply hadn't used it for some other reason.
Lorgar prayed to the Primordial Truth—prayed to Chaos itself—that he might find this method. The three gods promised Lorgar that he would not attract "his" attention, but Lorgar did not particularly trust their promise.
He would notice something was wrong sooner or later...
Wait.
Lorgar's expression shifted. He sensed something else appearing on this daemon world that belonged to him.
Something alien. Something searing and white-hot.
"Abaddon! Abaddon! Ab-Ab-Abaddon!"
The frenzied beast swung his arm, which was tipped with the Talon of Horus, and smashed it into the nearest Word Bearer. The Word Bearer, who had been chanting a mantra in an attempt to suppress the dull, mad beast, screamed. Before he could react, he was torn to shreds by Abaddon's claw. "Abaddon! Abaddon! To inherit Horus's legacy is to be a Great-Legacy!" (A play on words/pun in the original text).
Kor Phaeron's face twitched as he watched Abaddon's completely uncontrolled, illogical, and purely chaotic actions. As a believer with some understanding of the nature of Chaos, Kor Phaeron could roughly understand why Abaddon reacted this way. The Chaos Undivided star—the entire Eightfold Path was within Abaddon. Eight daemons possessed eight entirely different wills and tendencies, a microcosm of Chaos itself. It was like a carriage pulled by eight horses in eight different directions; the slightest change in strength would shift the carriage's trajectory, trapping it in a mode of complete chaos.
To tame him, Kor Phaeron had to precisely control the strength of every daemon within through faith, ritual, and prayer, achieving a degree of balance that would allow for communication.
But it was too difficult. Kor Phaeron was bordering on despair. He had found ways to manipulate the power of the other seven daemons, but Drach'nyen—the daemon born from the first murder in human history—was the most difficult to tame. Every time Kor Phaeron thought he had balanced the powers of the eight, Drach'nyen's power would inexplicably surge, shattering the equilibrium.
The only explanation was that Drach'nyen had been "slacking off." He had never truly released his full power, and the strength of the other seven daemons, even boosted by Kor Phaeron's complex rituals, was no match for Drach'nyen's true might. Thus, Drach'nyen could break the balance with ease.
"Why are you doing this?" "First Murder of Mankind, Drach'nyen!" Kor Phaeron questioned sharply.
The azure daemon sword in Abaddon's hand flickered slightly, as if glancing at Kor Phaeron, but Drach'nyen gave no response, as if he were too lazy to answer.
+Sloth.+
Kor Phaeron's body stiffened. He turned around in terror. A girl with dark brown hair—a human girl—stood before him. Surrounding Word Bearers raised their bolters, aiming at her.
"Who are you?" Kor Phaeron's voice dropped low.
+The Messiah.+
"Wh—?" Kor Phaeron barely squeezed out a syllable before black ash erupted from his mouth. He looked down in horror, feeling his chest grow so hot it was unbearable. It felt as if he were... as if he were...
Before he could even scream, Kor Phaeron turned into a pile of searing ash and dissipated. His Terminator armor collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
The Word Bearers, startled by the sudden attack, scrambled to pull their triggers.
"No!!!"
A sharp roar echoed from above. Lorgar appeared, his eyes wide and breath ragged. He leapt down, landing beside the empty Terminator armor. Lorgar knelt, his hands trembling as he reached into the armor and scooped up a handful of burnt black ash.
"Is this the greeting you give your own son?" Lorgar turned to the girl, growling his question.
+It is merely the Law.++If one maims another and there is no settlement, then eye for eye, limb for limb.+
The girl looked at Lorgar with indifference. +He took one of my sons, so I take his life before the eyes of my son.+
"Fine. Then I shall have my revenge against you as well." Lorgar's voice was distorted and terrifying. "I can see your weakness. You do not have much power." "And what's more, the Gods are watching..."
+Tzeentch, Khorne, and Slaanesh know I am here.+
The girl's gaze shifted slightly toward the still-raging Abaddon.
+Only I can tame him.++My son, I have dealt with them for far longer than you.++I know them. They are a swarm of insects, and I know how to strike a deal with insects.++Unlike you, who serves as their slave.+
"They sold me out?" Lorgar couldn't help but take a step back.
Then, he felt one of the Word Bearers behind him move, gently pressing a blade against his back. "My dear brother, why are you surprised? For the Gods, isn't this perfectly normal?"
A flash of emerald light passed, and a smiling face beneath a bald head was revealed.
"Alpharius? Or Omegon?" Lorgar's body went rigid.
"Call me Beta," Beta said cheerfully.
"And you can call me Gamma." In an instant, another Word Bearer transformed into a gale, disarming the others in the blink of an eye before shifting into an appearance identical to Beta.
+It is a good deal for the Three. I get you, and they get to make Alexander become like them.+
+Furthermore, the initiative is in their hands. They can choose the perfect moment to report my location to Alexander. To escape him, I can only cooperate with them.+
+My son, it is only natural for you to be discarded.+
"You think I will submit to you?" Lorgar lowered his voice, hissing the question. "You think I will fall back into false faith?" "I will not be deceived by your hypocrisy. I would rather be a martyr than..."
+I am God.+
The girl gazed at Lorgar with indifference.
Lorgar opened his mouth slightly...