Fourth Brother, Can We Reconcile?

Chapter 12: Fourth Brother, Can We Reconcile?

Happy times are always fleeting. Hogg, whose acting skills had become increasingly proficient, appeared ever more magnificent in the heart of Perturabo. The gaze Perturabo cast upon Hogg grew increasingly reverent and tender, yet that look, laden with heavy emotions, made Hogg feel that something was terribly wrong.

Damn it! Perhaps I've played this game a bit too big.

Emperor's psychic communication had already arrived. As the Bucephalus sailed in, everyone waited on the plaza of Olympia for the Emperor's descent.

The massive Stormbird Transport landed, and squads of Adeptus Custodes filed out, lining up neatly on both sides like golden corn in a field, followed by the Space Marines of the Fourth Legion.

It was the same familiar golden giant, the same familiar entrance, and the same familiar enchanting gaze—an aura comparable to a human aphrodisiac radiating from the Emperor's entire being. Under this brilliant golden light, any human would instinctively follow him.

The moment Perturabo saw the Emperor, he knew this was his biological father—so powerful, so great, and so radiant. Yet, when he turned his head, he saw his mother, who should have been smiling, trembling beside him.

He stroked the adamantine bracelet his mother had given him yesterday. Why? Why? Why was Mother not happy, but instead terrified? You damn bastard, what exactly have you done to her?!

Under this intense emotional fluctuation, the Emperor's enchanting aura backfired. Even if he was his father, even if he had no chance of winning.

Recalling the bits and pieces of the past few days—from their meeting in the wilderness and the teachings in the workshop, to the cautiousness when fearing rejection, and the surprise when he called her "Mother"—maternal love had nourished Perturabo's twisted heart.

"Ah! Mother!!!" Perturabo roared in the depths of his mind. "I will absolutely never let you cry again!"

The moment he arrived on Olympia, the Emperor noticed that something was wrong with Hogg. Two years ago, when he left, he was still a brat; how had he turned into a woman when they met again?

Perhaps his past-life quirks had awakened—after all, he had secretly worn women's clothing in his room in his previous life. Emperor, finding nothing amiss, did not probe further.

Footsteps echoed, striking at Hogg's heart. A thrill of courting death constantly teased him. "If performing is just to please others, it's meaningless. Fuck it! Let's do it."

Just as Perturabo intended to question the Emperor, he saw his mother smile at him and wave her hand. Then, he heard his mother say, "Darling! You've come."

"Slap!" A golden psychic palm knocked that figure to the ground.

This scene left Perturabo stunned for a moment, followed by a violent, raging fury.

"Emperor!! You deserve to die!!!! How dare you strike my mother!"

Before the words had even faded, the Primarch's massive figure lunged forward. A fist filled with fury slammed toward the Emperor's head, and a burst of golden psychic energy pushed everyone else back.

Punch after punch, the tangible fury scorched the ground. But the Emperor, as the Master of Mankind, was no empty name; in the blink of an eye, the two had exchanged a hundred blows. Their immense power shattered the floor, sending gravel flying; the plaza was as broken as if it had been bombed by aircraft.

Under their battle, both steel and rock were crumpled like waste paper.

But in the end, the older ginger is spicier. After the two of them demolished half the palace, the erupting Perturabo was finally pinned to the ground by the Emperor.

"Let me go, you coward! You actually dared to strike my mother, you deserve to die!" Perturabo's desperate, hoarse roar echoed.

"Your mother? My child, are you certain that is your mother? You have been toyed with. Hogg Menethil is my eleventh son, your younger brother." Golden psychic energy poured directly into the mind of the rebellious son beneath his feet, reading memories and transmitting information about Hogg.

Perturabo stopped struggling, his facial features twisting rapidly, and the Emperor released his hold. Two gazes searched the vicinity for a target, and soon, a figure crawling toward the edge was discovered.

The roar of the surrounding battle ceased. Seeming to sense the killing intent, Hogg stopped crawling, trying to minimize his presence. But he was soon hauled up by a large hand covered in golden armor. Forced to hang in mid-air, Hogg was stared at by two pairs of eyes filled with murderous intent.

"Gulp!! Fourth Brother, can we reconcile?"

Hogg, maintaining the face of Martha, was covered in tears, his affected, pretentious appearance resembling a Corgi that had made a mistake. "Pepe! You said you wouldn't let me cry! Pepe."

Dead silence was the main melody of Perturabo's heart. It seemed nothing could interfere with his judgment anymore. With his back to the sun, a shadow shrouded his face, and an unsettling voice emerged from beneath a dark expression.

"Father, do you mind?"

"Do as you please. He is quite durable; he's basically unkillable."

The many Space Marines watching, even after nineteen surgeries and having become little supermen, all chose to silently shut off the sensors on their power armor and close their eyes. After all, watching their father get beaten to a pulp, and watching their father being toyed with like a dog, were not things a son should witness.

I suggested to Father long ago not to do this, Lyla Lynn thought silently.

Crisp sounds rang out, and shrill screams lingered in everyone's minds.

To this day, we do not know what happened that day, but all mortals present underwent a memory-wiping procedure. Half the royal city was shattered, and the Primarch of the Eleventh Legion, Blackwatch, was scraped off the ground and transported back to the Blacklight for recovery.

Ten thousand years later, this event became a legend. When a Slaaneshi Greater Daemon investigated the truth and appeared before the Fourth Legion disguised as a silver-haired woman, it was torn to shreds by a furious Perturabo, banished into the Warp, and hunted for nearly a century.

In a hidden chamber aboard the Bucephalus:

On the crude wall, there was only one rough decoration: a wooden-cased pendulum clock, its pendulum swinging back and forth. A chessboard lay between the two.

"The Fourth will return to Terra with me." Emperor picked up a chess piece carved with a relief of a metal fortress and placed it at the front of the board.

"Cough! Cough!" A cough came. Emperor thought for a moment and moved the piece back to the rear.

"How much certainty do you have, Neoth?" Hogg, slumped in his seat, asked.

"...I don't know. No one can guarantee the direction of the future." A pitch-black monster piece was pulled out by him and tossed toward the useless rebellious son opposite him.

"And the Fourth? Honestly, I really want to cut open your brain to see how much emotional intelligence you have left. Your sons, though they possess extraordinary power, are also human. The emotions possessed by mortals will only be more intense. Even if you just humored them, a single sentence could avoid most disputes, yet you didn't do it."

"As long as the Great Crusade is completed smoothly, everything will be fine," the Emperor remained stubborn.

"Even knowing your memories, I cannot fully glimpse the future. The information about the future in your memories is all chaotic to me."

Rubbing the monster piece in his hand, Hogg thought for a moment and placed it onto the chessboard. As if attracting the twisted darkness on the board, Hogg's crusade began.