Hogg was furious, but he couldn't get angry.
The giant hand over his head proved everything. One black hole exploding had reduced Hogg to half a corgi. With his current mangled state, he couldn't even hope to run away with Yellow Weasel—he could barely keep himself alive.
Besides, Hogg had figured it out: Dorn was a total con artist. Three wives and four concubines, enjoying the good life? Your battle report was wrong!
He looked up. Sera still wore her flawless smile, but Hogg felt a chill run down his spine. No, his lower half was already gone. He'd lost his little bells for good.
Lorgar was half-dead, and Hogg was barely alive. Hogg rolled his dog eyes toward Old Man Yellow nearby. Through their exchanged glances, the Emperor seemed to understand.
But the Emperor was no longer the golden giant who once ruled the Galaxy. He'd lost all his power and become a fat, domesticated yellow weasel. At best, he could freeload and roll around. How could he possibly rescue anyone?
Still, the Emperor knew this might be his only chance to get saved. No matter how wicked Hogg, this rebellious son of his, had once been, everything had already been proven.
At Hogg's usual rate of recovery, two seconds would have been more than enough for him to return to normal. Yet under Sera's suppression, he was still only half a corgi.
The Emperor was screaming inside. Ten thousand years ago, he'd watched helplessly as Slaanesh abducted Hogg. He'd sworn an oath but failed to fulfill it. He couldn't bear that same helplessness and humiliation again.
"Ah!"
For the sake of his dog's dignity, the Emperor decided to fight Sera, that madwoman. As Master of Mankind, he couldn't stand by and watch Hogg be humiliated.
Ambition and will