Mortarion pressed his right hand over his wound. An icy sensation spread rapidly from it, suffusing his entire body.
As he stepped onto the aether pathway, the chill grew stronger.
Mortarion's thoughts froze, as though he had been cast into a glacier.
A warm current suddenly welled up in the festering wound, as though a pair of gentle hands were stroking it.
"Mortarion, I can help you."
Mortarion thought through his stupor, Who are you?
"I am your father."
"I will grant you ascension. Your remade body will be indestructible."
"Your tenacity will crush Nimrod and overpower The Cursed One."
The word "tenacity" struck Mortarion's mind like lightning.
"Nimrod—"
"The Cursed One—my hypocritical father?"
"What do you want?"
"Cough, cough—" Amid a genial chuckle, a wisp of ghostly green mist appeared before Mortarion's eyes.
"I want nothing. I only wish to help you—"
"No one gives gifts without a reason," Mortarion said coldly.
"The Emperor needs me as his Capricorn, wielding my scythe to cleave the darkness."
"You are no different."
Mortarion snapped coldly.
"Since you refuse to be honest about your purpose, I reject your help."
"I will overcome corruption through my own tenacity."
Thud!
Mortarion's armored boots struck the teleport platform. Silence slammed into the ground, supporting his body.
He looked around. Only ninety-four of the Deathshroud remained.
Mortarion drew a deep breath and activated his Communicator.
"Jaghatai is not here. We will answer the Warmaster's command and proceed to Morlo."
He had failed. This not only stained his record of military achievements, but also forced him to return to Horus's side.
The Warmaster might permit him to refuse a summons, but would not permit him to defy orders while accomplishing nothing.
Mortarion tasted the humiliation of defeat, a humiliation that had not even been inflicted by Jaghatai,