Chapter 30: The Emperor — "Magnus, Have You Forgotten to Eat?"
Something was wrong with this world.
The Emperor had reached that conclusion.
After enduring the humiliating spectacle arranged in His honor, He finally spoke, His voice carrying the weight of command that had broken tyrants and united Terra.
"I am not a god. I am a man."
It was not merely a statement. It was a declaration of the Imperial Truth.
The gathered faithful dropped to their knees as one.
"Yes, Lord of Mankind! As you say!"
The Emperor closed His eyes briefly.
He turned a hard gaze toward Erebus.
"This is not the place for discourse."
He motioned for Lorgar to lead the way.
"My father, the ceremony is not yet complete," Lorgar said, a note of wounded devotion in his voice.
He had worked too long for this moment. The cathedrals. The statues. The hymns. The proof of his faith.
Erebus, standing slightly behind him, made a subtle gesture—one Lorgar chose to ignore.
In the Emperor's mind, a psychic whisper coiled like a blade.
"For every indulgence you allow, Lorgar, I will hold you accountable."
Erebus stiffened.
"Haha… Lorgar, humanity requires our focus. There are greater matters than celebration."
Lorgar gave him a look—equal parts understanding and tragic devotion.
"We exist to serve you, Father. If you command sacrifice, we will give it. If you command war, we will wage it."
The Emperor very nearly replied that His greatest obstacles were standing directly in front of Him.
Instead, He remained silent.
They proceeded through a corridor lined with kneeling devotees. Some wore crude iconography bearing the Emperor's likeness. Others clutched prayer-scrolls.
"My Father!" "Lord of Terra!" "Master of Mankind!"
Magnus, walking slightly apart from the others, observed the scene with growing unease. The psychic pressure of collective belief pressed against the veil of reality itself.
The Emperor's breathing deepened. Faith, concentrated like this, was dangerous. Belief shaped the Warp.
They reached a grand set of doors at the heart of a cathedral.
Erebus abruptly stepped in front of them.
"You may not enter."
A Custodian leveled his guardian spear, its crackling energy field humming inches from Erebus's throat.
"Stand aside."
Erebus swallowed but did not move.
"There is… a sacred relic within. None may disturb it."
That was enough.
The Emperor reached into Erebus's mind with surgical precision. A pulse of psychic force struck him like a hammer. Erebus staggered back as the great doors were thrown open.
Golden light flooded the chamber.
At its center stood a throne—crafted in imitation of the Golden Throne of Terra. Upon it sat a waxen effigy of a skeletal figure, crowned in mockery of suffering. Crude cables coiled around it in parody of the life-sustaining mechanisms that in another future would bind the Emperor to His fate.
Magnus stopped.
"What misguided idol is this?"
Erebus looked suddenly very pale.
"It was… symbolic. A representation of sacrifice. Of eternal guardianship. I may have exaggerated certain details."
The Emperor stepped forward.
The air trembled.
In a burst of incandescent psychic force, the effigy shattered. Wax and gilded ornament vaporized.
Erebus was lifted bodily into the air, suspended by invisible pressure. His limbs flailed uselessly.
The Emperor seated Himself upon the false throne. For a moment, He simply breathed, His eyes colder than the seas of Fenris.
"Magnus."
The word carried both command and judgment.
Magnus hesitated only briefly. He formed a psychic lash—a construct of disciplined will—and struck.
Erebus spun midair, yelping as the blows landed. It was not meant to maim. It was meant to correct.
Lorgar opened his mouth, perhaps to protest.
Erebus's howls convinced him otherwise.
"Enough."
The Emperor rose. The imitation throne beneath Him cracked under the pressure of His power.
With a snap of His fingers, golden flame ignited around Erebus—not consuming, but silencing. The Word Bearer's incessant pleas were cut short.
"Lorgar," the Emperor said evenly, "you will dismantle this cult. Immediately. The Imperial Truth will replace superstition."
A data-slate containing the full doctrine of the Imperial Truth struck the floor before Lorgar.
Lorgar knelt and picked it up reverently.
"As you command, Father. We shall follow you into the stars and spread your Truth."
The Emperor's gaze sharpened.
"I am not a god."
"Of course not," Lorgar replied calmly. "You are merely the greatest of men."
Something about the tone unsettled even Magnus.
The Emperor turned abruptly.
"Magnus. Have you forgotten to eat?"
The change in subject was so sudden it stunned the room into silence.
Magnus blinked. "No, Father."
"See that you do not neglect the body in pursuit of the mind. Even you are not sustained by will alone."
It was not really about food.
It was about discipline. About balance. About avoiding the path of obsession.
The Emperor released Erebus, who collapsed in a heap.
Golden fire faded.
Silence lingered in the chamber—thick, tense, and heavy with futures not yet decided.
Outside those doors, faith waited.
Inside, inevitability trembled.
And somewhere in the Warp, something vast and amused shifted its gaze.