If the variable that was Hogg had never appeared, what would the Galaxy look like?
Would the Imperium of Man collapse midway through its journey, followed by the inevitable Horus Heresy after the Great Crusade? Would the Primarchs, who should have worked together toward the great goal of restoring humanity, end up turning against one another? Or would the Imperium of Man be left corrupted by ignorance and decay, terminally ill?
No one knew the answer—not even Hogg himself. And he didn't want to know.
Ever since arriving in this world, a raging anger had taken root in Hogg's heart. He saw everything that happened, and none of it pleased him—not Dorn or Guilliman, not the traitorous Primarchs or the decaying Legions.
"The world shouldn't be like this, and it can't stay this way! If it won't move forward the way I want it to, then let the Galaxy and even the Warp burn! It must become what I envision."
At eighteen, standing like a nobody, Hogg now sat enthroned in the eyes of Captain-General Valdor, a true king, contemplating grand ambitions that could decide the fate of the entire Galaxy.
Especially after he declared that he would set the Galaxy ablaze, his domineering CEO aura drew a crowd of Adeptus Custodes.
The Emperor, to whom Valdor had devoted his life, stood beside Hogg like a dowry maid, along with several other Primarchs, without a shred of dignity.
"Ah, thank goodness he isn't my father. Otherwise, I'd be in such a sorry state. I don't understand how, in a mere ten thousand years, our lord has come to this. I still remember the Great Crusade. Emperor, you rode at the head of your armies, leading billions of soldiers to sweep across the Galaxy. Wherever you went, the people welcomed you