While Konrad Curze was in a coma, Sevatar fell into a state of sorrow, not understanding what he should do.
Because of his nature, he was actually someone with very little empathy.
Although he was always taking care of others, whether it was his Primarch or the Legion, he didn't truly empathize with them.
He couldn't understand how they could reach such a state.
To wake Konrad Curze, Sevatar, under the guidance of a Librarian, unleashed his long-suppressed psychic powers. He entered the mental World of the comatose Konrad Curze to experience his past and find his psyche to try and wake him.
This process was actually quite absurd. Sevatar had always suppressed his psychic abilities, yet now he could resonate with Konrad Curze as soon as he unleashed them. Honestly, Sevatar's psychic talent must be quite high.
Eventually, Sevatar found Konrad Curze and told him he couldn't stay in this coma any longer, or he would die.
The father and son had a heart-to-heart here. Konrad Curze confessed that he intended to die after the rebellion. He felt he had achieved nothing in hundreds of years; he tried to save his home Planet, but in the end, the evil there resurfaced.
His Legion was a bunch of scum, and he had no talent for leadership, making it impossible to guide them.
Instead of heading in a good direction, it was better to just stay comatose.
At this moment, Sevatar rarely roared at Konrad Curze, saying that even if everything else was fine, was the Legion and their mother becoming what they are now a reason to just give up?
Just because you lack the talent, does that mean you can stop putting in the effort?
You were satisfied with using terror and slaughter to establish Order simply because you were good at it, and that's all.
You're just making excuses about a lack of talent; that's no reason not to act.
You simply chose the easiest path.
Sevatar's roar was also a roar at himself for ignoring the destruction of Nostramo; his choice to obey all the Primarch's Orders was also choosing the easiest path.
However, these accusations from Sevatar didn't do much for Konrad Curze.
Ultimately, there is no such thing as equality between a Space Marine and a Primarch. Konrad Curze wouldn't suddenly wake up just because of what Sevatar said.
Later, Konrad Curze woke up. The first thing he did was prepare to board the Lion El'Jonson's Invincible Reason.
Sevatar had no choice but to watch his crazed father. After all, he was the leader of the Terminator Honour Guard, the honor guard, and obeying the Primarch was the most basic requirement.
During the battle after boarding, Sevatar suddenly collapsed with blood spraying from his nose and mouth due to unlocking his psychic shackles earlier to save Konrad Curze. When he woke up, the battle was over. He and the surviving Terminator Honour Guard were arrested by the First Legion and locked in cells.
In the cell, Sevatar finally accepted that Konrad Curze was insane.
A Night Lord named Vitor, who had arrived in the cell before Sevatar, asked what they were doing. Only a few dozen Terminator Honour Guard were left; did they come up just to throw their lives away?
Sevatar said it was the Primarch's Order.
Everyone sighed. One person said the Primarch was mad. Sevatar didn't refute as usual, just remaining silent.
Meanwhile, Konrad Curze hid on the Lion El'Jonson's ship and began randomly selecting lucky crew members.
Regardless, the Sarmass Crusade ended with a Dark Angels victory, and then Lion and Guilliman made contact.
Then the Lion El'Jonson set sail for Guilliman's Five Hundred Worlds with the lurking Konrad Curze on board.
The light on the screen slowly faded, finally returning to a deep darkness. But the impact of the images was like a giant stone thrown into a dead lake, stirring up long-lasting ripples in the Throne Room.
The final scene—Lion ElJonson's fleet, carrying a mad Primarch prisoner and a hidden, even more insane Primarch assassin, heading toward Guilliman's orderly Five Hundred Worlds—this sight was like a lit fuse, instantly detonating the wrath of the Master of the Ultramarines.
"Lion!"
Guilliman stood up abruptly from his seat, his face, usually as calm and rational as a classical sculpture, showing unmasked fury for the first time.
His sharp blue eyes stared intently at the Primarch of the First Legion, his voice low from suppressed anger but filled with an unquestionable sense of pressure.
"What on earth were you thinking?! Bringing Konrad Curze—a living, unpredictable source of disaster—into Ultramar? Into the most stable heartland of the Empire that I have spent decades building?!"
Guilliman's fingers clenched, the metal casing of the data slate groaning in pain under his immense strength.
He could not understand, nor could he tolerate, such behavior.
"This is an unacceptable security breach! A complete, illogical act of recklessness! You didn't even communicate with me in advance! You've put trillions of Imperial citizens under a madman's butcher knife!"
Facing Guilliman's near-roaring interrogation, Lion only turned his head slowly and coldly.
On his handsome but expressionless face, his eyes were like the deepest cold pools of Caliban, without a single ripple.
"He is a prisoner of war, Roboute." The Lion El'Jonson's voice was steady and cold, devoid of any emotion.
"And I am the victor. I am bringing my trophy to the heart of the Empire for trial. The Five Hundred Worlds are your model of governance; do you not even have the ability to imprison a loser?"
This understated yet arrogant and provocative response made Guilliman's anger burn even brighter.
"This isn't a matter of ability, Lion! This is a matter of principle! A matter of responsibility!"
Just as the atmosphere between these two masters of strategy was about to freeze, a calm, slightly free-spirited and sharp voice, like a swift wind on the plains, cut in perfectly between them.
"You are arguing about the strength of the cage, yet you both seem to have ignored the two trapped beasts themselves."
Jaghatai Khan spoke. He leaned back in his seat, his fingers unconsciously stroking the saber at his waist, his gaze seemingly piercing through time and space to fall on the father and son who had just performed an extreme tragedy on the screen.
"Konrad Curze," the Khan's tone carried a philosopher's insight.
"He is a pathetic prisoner. He isn't locked on some Planet or ship, but within his own damned prophecies. He saw the chains of the future and willingly stuck his neck in, thinking it was the only path."
His gaze swept over all the brothers present, especially Magnus and Sanguinius, who held different views on prophecy and psychic powers.
"He hated 'choosing the easiest path,' yet he didn't realize that giving up all choices and completely submitting to so-called 'fate' is the most cowardly and easiest path in this Universe. He didn't die of madness, but of... his own damned, self-righteous clarity."
This commentary left many Primarchs present lost in thought.
Then, the Khan's gaze turned to the Astartes who had shown striking tenacity and contradiction in the images.
"As for that Sevatar..." A complex curve hooked the corner of the Khan's mouth, containing admiration, regret, and a hint of understanding from a kindred spirit.
"He is also a prisoner. He roared at his father not to choose the easiest path, but what about himself?"
"He chose the easiest loyalty—blind, unthinking obedience. He saw through his father's cowardice, but lacked the courage to cut the chain called 'duty' that bound him."
"One enslaved by the future, one enslaved by the past. One gave up resistance, one gave up thinking. Truly... a perfect pair of father and son. They are both in their own cages, shouting 'freedom' at the prisoner on the other side."
The Khan's words were like a sharp scalpel, precisely dissecting the core of the tragedy of Konrad Curze and Sevatar.
This eased the tense atmosphere between Guilliman and Lion El'Jonson.
"A tragedy... it is indeed a tragedy."
Sanguinius sighed softly, his angelic face filled with compassion.
"I only see a brother consumed by his own curse; he could have been the most just judge, but ultimately he judged himself. I also see a loyal son who exhausted the last glimmer of light in the darkness."
He understood the pain of being trapped by prophecy better than anyone; Konrad Curze's fate resonated with him.
"Cowardice?!" Angron's roar suddenly exploded, the Butcher's Nails churning madly in his skull, causing his scarred face to twist extremely.
"Submitting to fate, waiting for the end to come... that is at least much more honest than wearing a hypocritical mask and pretending there is still hope!"
His words were less a defense of Konrad Curze and more an outpouring of his own despair, being equally enslaved and seeing no hope.
Rogal Dorn, with his voice as steady as a rock, made the final judgment:
"Konrad Curze, from the moment he abandoned his duty and indulged in illusions, was already a traitor to the Empire. And Sevatar, whatever his motives, was equally guilty when he shouted that slogan. As for Lion..."
The Primarch of the Imperial Fists looked at the Lion El'Jonson, his gaze one of pure logical scrutiny: "Your actions were procedurally flawed. Bringing such a dangerous prisoner into the core sectors without the highest level of notification and coordinated defense deployment is an act of extreme irresponsibility toward Imperial security. This matter must be recorded."
Dorn's conclusion pulled the focus back to the unresolved conflict.
Guilliman took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and sat back down. But the look he gave Lion was now layered with a cold, not easily dispelled wariness and distrust.
"Lion, I hope you keep a close eye on your 'trophy'."
"Don't let him out to run wild."
"Of course," Lion El'Jonson replied indifferently.