Chapter 29: Erebus the Warp Refuse — and the God-Emperor at His Limit
"So," the Emperor said evenly, "you entered this universe by accident?"
He sat in a simple metal chair within the transport chamber, posture straight, expression unreadable. Before Him stood Erebus — face swollen, one eye nearly closed, posture aggressively respectful.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor considered striking him again. The previous blows had clearly not been sufficient.
"There is something else," the Emperor continued. "The power within you. It does not originate from your mortal shell. Where does it come from?"
Erebus hesitated.
The Emperor slowly raised the auramite power gauntlet.
"In my dreams," Erebus began very quickly, "there is a crystal surface — like a pane of flawless glass. I do not know what it is. I only see it from within darkness."
He described the black expanse. The coffin-like void. The glass plate suspended within.
The Emperor listened in silence.
"I see," He said at last.
That tone — that terrifyingly neutral tone — made Erebus more nervous than shouting would have.
"You," the Emperor continued calmly, "are the refuse receptacle of the Immaterium."
Erebus blinked.
"The what?"
"A trash vessel," the Emperor clarified. "A disposal point."
Erebus stared at Him.
The Emperor calculated timelines. The phenomenon Erebus described coincided precisely with the appearance of what certain Warp entities had referred to — cautiously — as the Null Coffin. A dark anomaly in the Sea of Souls. A place where discarded fragments accumulated.
The Ruinous Powers had once speculated it to be some emergent construct of the higher empyrean.
They had thrown things into it.
Concepts. Excess resonance. Residual divine emissions.
Even the Emperor had once experimented — sending a trace filament of His own suppressed divinity into that anomaly.
It had been absorbed.
Completely.
The Emperor looked at Erebus.
With something almost like pity.
"Your psychic reflection," He said evenly, "resembles a black coffin. And it is frequently… fed."
Erebus' already pale face went corpse-white.
"Fed?"
The Emperor allowed himself the faintest hint of satisfaction.
"Yes."
"Your Majesty," Erebus said urgently, "what exactly is being fed?"
The Emperor regarded him for a long moment.
Erebus' tone was reckless. Familiar. Disrespectful.
But beneath it, the Emperor sensed something unusual.
Trust.
Unfiltered, irrational trust.
It had been a very long time since anyone spoke to Him like this. Even Malcador carried awe in his words.
The Emperor made a decision.
He would not explain everything.
Not yet.
"For the moment," He said, "it is sufficient that you understand you are a receptacle. A convergence point. A place where things unwanted by greater beings are deposited."
Erebus swallowed.
"I know the future," Erebus said abruptly.
The Emperor's eyes sharpened slightly.
"I am aware."
"The future is fixed?" Erebus pressed.
"The river of fate is turbulent," the Emperor replied. "Many currents. Many outcomes. Those who stare too long at a single possibility often fall directly into it."
"You mean the great blue schemer?" Erebus muttered.
The Emperor did not answer directly.
Instead, He changed the subject.
"What else have you done, Erebus, besides summoning a Bloodthirster onto my son's world?"
This time Erebus did not hesitate.
He described the Order of All Saints. The purges. The Sisters Militant. The restructuring of Colchis' faith. The interrogation of bound daemons — including Shaeluna. The political counterbalance against Kor Phaeron.
He spoke carefully, omitting nothing essential.
The Emperor listened.
Calm.
Too calm.
When Erebus finished, the Emperor rose.
"Very well."
Erebus blinked.
"That is all?"
"No," the Emperor replied evenly. "I am rested."
The golden gauntlets gleamed.
"And I believe we may continue."
"Continue what?"
"The lesson."
They entered the chamber at midday.
They exited at dusk.
Outside, Magnus the Red and Lorgar Aurelian had, surprisingly, found common ground.
Magnus was fascinated by Colchis' religious transformation. Lorgar was fascinated by Magnus' mastery of the Warp.
Kor Phaeron had been summoned and was lavishing Magnus with carefully measured admiration. Garrulek recorded everything quietly nearby.
Magnus, basking in intellectual appreciation, mentioned casually that humanity was not alone in the galaxy — that there existed ancient species such as the Aeldari.
At that word, Lorgar and Kor Phaeron exchanged a subtle glance.
Garrulek's stylus paused.
Magnus frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"Not at all," Kor Phaeron replied smoothly. "We are… very interested in xenos matters."
A subtle gesture passed from Lorgar to Garrulek.
Understood.
Plans adjusted.
At that moment, the transport hatch opened.
The Emperor emerged first.
Behind Him walked Erebus.
Half of Erebus' face was swollen. His gait was slightly uneven.
Lorgar's expression flickered between concern and awe.
"Father!" he said eagerly.
The crowd erupted once more.
"Golden Lord!"
"Divine Emperor!"
"He looks at us!"
The Emperor closed His eyes briefly.
He had reconsidered killing Erebus no fewer than twelve times during the last hour.
"I expect," the Emperor said coldly, "that certain… titles will cease."
Erebus stepped forward quickly.
"Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "Lorgar has prepared something in your honor."
The Emperor exhaled slowly.
He had endured worse.
He believed.
The tarpaulins fell.
Thirteen massive statues were revealed in the plaza.
They were exquisitely carved.
Each depicted a Primarch.
Each sculpted with dramatic heroism.
Each mouth posed mid-oration — as though eternally preaching.
The Emperor's eye twitched.
"Why," He asked quietly, "are their mouths open?"
Lorgar beamed.
"They proclaim your glory, Father."
Kill them, a distant voice suggested within His mind.
Roast them both.
"Sing!" Lorgar commanded enthusiastically.
Hundreds of thousands obeyed.
The hymn rose in thunderous unison:
"Behold the stars! The Emperor watches!
In battle we pray! In darkness we endure!
By His light the Astronomican shall blaze!
We shall slay the alien! We shall burn the heretic!
Humanity shall reign supreme!
We love you, Divine Emperor!"
The plaza shook with devotion.
The Emperor lowered His gaze.
For one dangerous, flickering moment, He contemplated two options:
Hang Erebus publicly.
Or set Lorgar on fire.
He said nothing.
But somewhere deep within His ancient patience—
A crack formed.