Ferrus still sat there.
He did not explode in rage as previously expected, nor did he roar like a volcanic eruption.
He was exceptionally quiet.
He raised his hands, encased in liquid metal, and gently touched his neck.
That cold sensation felt as if that sword strike had truly landed on his physical body just now.
"I died."
Ferrus's voice was terrifyingly calm, as if stating engineering data. "Because of my recklessness. Because of my anger. Because I... trusted someone I shouldn't have trusted."
He slowly turned his head, looking at Fulgrim, who had long since collapsed onto the ground nearby.
There was no hatred in Ferrus's eyes, only a bottomless disappointment and a resolve that finally saw reality for what it was.
"Is this the end of 'perfection,' brother?"
Ferrus asked, "The moment you struck off my head, did you feel perfect?"
These words were sharper than any curse.
Fulgrim had long since broken down.
The moment he saw himself decapitating Ferrus on the screen, he let out a scream that didn't sound human.
He knelt on the ground, his hands frantically clawing at his own face, as if he wanted to tear off that perfect skin.
"No! No!! That wasn't me! That wasn't me!!!"
Fulgrim looked at Ferrus, looking at the brother who stood as firm as a mountain in reality, even though he had died on the screen.
Then he looked at himself—the version of him that became a serpentine monster in the future, and the version of him that was a weeping coward now.
He finally understood that the perfection he had always pursued was, in fact, the ultimate ugliness.
"Kill me..."
Fulgrim crawled toward Ferrus, grabbing Ferrus's foot armor. "Please, Ferrus, kill me now. Don't let me become that monster. Don't let me do those things."
But Ferrus only coldly pulled his foot back and took a step away.
"I will not kill you."
Ferrus said coldly, "Death would be a release for you now. You must live. You must watch that future self of yours and spend the rest of your life in repentance."
Vulkan clutched his chest, tears sliding down his dark face. He was grieving not only for Ferrus but also for the thousands of Salamanders' progeny dying on the screen.
"That is Carnage..."
Vulkan's voice trembled. "No honor, no bottom line. How could they do it? Those are their brothers!"
Corax's face was as pale as paper. He watched the tragic scene on the screen where the Raven Guard was nearly wiped out, his black eyes burning with a cold fire of vengeance.
"We must remember this day."
Corax whispered, "We must remember the name of every traitor. From now on, there is no more mercy. No more brothers. Only hunters and prey."
As one of the instigators of all this, Perturabo appeared unusually silent at this moment.
He looked at the version of himself on the screen waving his hand to order fire.
"Is this what I wanted?"
Perturabo asked himself in his heart, "To trade betrayal for victory? To prove my talent by massacring my brothers?"
Horus sat in the seat of the Warmaster, his hands trembling slightly.
He looked at Ferrus's head.
"I killed him..." Horus murmured to himself, "I didn't just kill Ferrus; I also killed the hero named Horus."
He realized that once this massacre occurred, there would be no turning back. He would no longer be the Warmaster of humanity, but the Destroyer of humanity.
The Emperor watched all of this.
His gaze pierced through time and space, looking at the son who had lost his head.
[Ferrus.]
The Emperor's voice echoed in everyone's minds; it still didn't have much fluctuation, but everyone could feel a pressure like the deep sea.
[You are the first to fall.]
[But you will not be the last.]
[Watch, my sons. This is the price of betrayal. This is the true face of Chaos.]
[It will not give you glory, nor will it give you freedom. It will only turn you into a pile of meaningless rotten meat in your mutual slaughter.]
The screen went dark again.
The sands of Istvaan V buried the bodies, but they could not bury the scar carved into the soul of the Imperium.
The Great Crusade was over.
The Horus Heresy had fully erupted.