168. Tearing His Books to Shreds in Front of a Mage

It was hard to find the right word to describe someone like Lorgar Aurelian.

Madman?

No. He was not mad. Quite the opposite—he was rational, fully aware of what he was doing.

A zealot?

That was only a disguise. Tear the cloak of religion from him, and people would discover that Lorgar Aurelian did not truly believe in any deity at all. He only loved vague incarnations, one-sided concepts—or, to put it more specifically, what he believed in was power itself.

Whoever possessed power was his master.

Standing in the sky, the Mage watched the battle on the ground with cold eyes.

He saw the black wave of air kicked up by Corax's charge collapse the earth, dust and smoke blasting outward at explosive speed. He saw Lorgar cut a sorry figure as he fended off his attacks, yet the light in his eyes grew ever more fanatical. His skin began to glow, and the characters inscribed upon it slowly writhed, changing into even more blasphemous sentences.

After seeing this, he raised his head and looked toward the sky.

Sure enough, amid that chaotic, disordered sea of stars, three different colors were slowly gathering. Bloody red, ambiguous pink, and deep green. Three different consciousnesses had cast Their gazes here, staring at this planet with keen interest.

Lorgar had clearly sensed Their attention as well. He began to roar in excitement, his warm voice, one born perfectly suited to a diplomat, now sounding like the shriek of a beast. "Come, brother! Face the true gods, face humanity's salvation, face me—!"

"Shut up!" the Lord of the Ravens answered with a roar that rivaled Angron's. "You aren't worthy to say the word 'humanity,' you filthy piece of scum!"

They clashed once more.

No matter how the battle was going, what Lorgar did