39 Judgment Day (Final)

"Just like what you're thinking right now, Lorgar," said the Sigillites.

His aged face, at this moment, strangely no longer appeared sorrowful, only pure tranquility. Unfortunately, the enraged Primarch paid little attention to this matter, and the Illuminarum began to creak in his hands.

Lorgar looked at Malcador as if he didn't recognize the old man. After a while, he shook his head and uttered a single word.

"No."

He set down the Illuminarum, then picked it up again, his expression like a candle flame flickering in the wind, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "It can't be like this, it can't be like this. You're lying, you're Deceit me, you're not even real."

"I am."

"Liar!" Lorgar roared. "The real Malcador wouldn't just stand by and watch this happen! He couldn't possibly turn a blind eye to all of this!"

Malcador slowly took a step forward, two points of blue light appearing in his eyes.

"But that's the truth, Lorgar. I am indeed here, and I have come with your father's will. Your brothers Konrad Curze Curze and Roboute Guilliman are both acting on his orders."

As soon as he finished speaking, Roboute Guilliman and Konrad Curze Curze inevitably exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes.

They all thought Malcador would do it in a gentler way, instead of striking again with the Chainsword on Lorgar Aurelian's already severely damaged pride and emotions.

The grey reef formed by the Word Bearers erupted into a huge commotion at this moment, looking as bewildered and helpless as if they were being tied up and machine-gunned. Cole Fallon, who was standing at the very front of the group, was particularly visibly shaken.

A genuine sense of shame was erupting on his thin, fierce face, shattering the company commander's coldness and revealing his utter helplessness, even bordering on grievance.

Angron Ty witnessed this scene clearly and felt the same sorrow, along with a sense of apology towards Cole Fallon.

In the past, he looked down on him. Everyone knew how Cole Fallon became a company commander; if it weren't for Lorgar, he would have been just an ordinary person. His position brought him benefits within the legion, and Cole Fallon gained more than just power.

Lorgar personally invited some professionals to perform modification surgery on his adoptive father, making him far superior to ordinary people and enabling him to wear the Legion's Power Armour. However, he was not Astartes; he was merely a product of inferior genes acquired later in life.

It can be said that it was only from this moment that Angron Tei began to feel some identification with Cole Fallon.

But will this help them in their current situation?

No, absolutely not.

"You're lying." Lorgar stumbled back a step, his steps faltering as if he had been struck by a sledgehammer.

He murmured, his voice so soft that the Word Bearers couldn't hear him at all. Yet, they could sense the Primarch's immense helplessness and rage in his expression.

You're lying to me, Malcador.

The son of Colchis raised his hand and covered his forehead. The Illuminarum's grip left a deep red friction mark on his forehead, and the golden light intensified, the scriptures for some reason beginning to shine brightly.

"How could he do such a thing? The people here believe in him; they worship at sunrise and express their devotion by reciting scriptures ten times at sunset. His idols are everywhere, and there is reverence and love for him everywhere—billions of devout believers across the entire planet."

Lorgar raised his head again, his eyes filled with madness, his breathing rapid and shallow, his voice hurried like that of a savage priest digging out his internal organs with a knife.

"You're lying, aren't you, Malcador? You're trying to exonerate these two murderers and criminals?"

Malcador remained silent, his silence growing increasingly menacing, while Lorgar showed no sign of yielding.

"You like them as much as you like everyone else except me, so you make excuses for them. I get it, I'm not popular, as always, my sincerity is treated like dirt."

The Primarch lowered his hand and suddenly burst into laughter.

"But that's alright!" he shouted. "I will bring the dead of the Perfect City back to Terra, I will bring my legion with me. I want my father to see what happened here!"

"You know very well that I won't leave Terra rashly," Malcador said, finally speaking.

He gripped the scepter tightly, as if wary of something. Lorgar was approaching him, and perhaps that was the root of it all. It takes courage for anyone to confront a Primarch driven to madness and rage, and Malcador has never lacked courage.

He lacked something else.

"Shut up!" Lorgar roared, "You are defiling his Radiance before my very eyes! How dare you do such a thing?!"

"Perhaps you should consider one thing before you yell at me, Lorgar. Your father has never had any real Radiance to speak of," Malcador replied calmly. "Think about it carefully, when has he ever asked others to treat him like a god?"

Lorgar shook his head, showing no reaction to the old man's words.

He seemed to have lost all patience, his eyes wide open to an almost unbearable degree, as if one might worry they would pop out of their sockets at any moment. The Primarch's eyes gleamed as he walked up to Malcador and raised his right hand.

The Illuminarum hovered in mid-air, placed directly above Malcador's left shoulder. Its true power had not yet been activated; Lorgar hadn't even allowed its weight to touch the gaunt old man in the robe. However, the scene was already terrifying enough.

Lorgar —one of the Primarch of the Imperium —is threatening the Sigillites Malcador, with weapons.

"Enough, I don't want to hear your lies anymore. Make way, Malcador," Lorgar said coldly, veins throbbing on his forehead, saliva dripping from between his taut lips and teeth, thick like blood.

"I've changed my mind." He turned his gaze to the other two Primarch. "I'm bringing them back to be tried together. Why should the murderer escape justice?"

At this point, he actually let out a cold laugh.

"Konrad Curze Curze!" he shouted, his gaze and voice passing over Malcador. "Do you think I'm right?! No one can escape Judgment, and no one should escape Judgment!"

The Lord of Blades nodded slowly and calmly. "But whether I am guilty or not is not up to you, Lorgar."

"Are you sure?" The Word Bearers smiled gently. He gritted his teeth and turned to look at Roboute Guilliman.

"And you, Roboute, you're the best at thinking. You're the most thoughtful of us all. Now I'm going to give you a scenario, and I want you to think about it carefully. If someone did the same thing to your Macragge, what would you think? Hmm?"

"The scenario you're imagining won't happen," Roboute Guilliman said.

Unlike Curze, he didn't avoid meeting Lorgar's gaze. The Lord of Ultramar looked away, his expression remaining as unwavering as a stone statue, but he chose not to meet Lorgar's eyes.

"Really? Why is that?"

Lorgar pressed on, asking one question after another, relentlessly. Her words and sentences, once gentle, were now slashed out with razor-sharp edge, like invisible blades piercing countless wounds.

"Is it because you've been staying in your little kingdom and refuse to leave? Ah, that's true. Unlike me, you don't personally lead the Great Crusade, conquering new territories and reclaiming planets. You stay in Macragge, so no one can destroy it while you're fighting for humanity, right?"

"Moreover, if anyone criticizes you, you will always have a reason to respond, after all, your expeditions have already penetrated deep into the Orks territory. How remarkable, Roboute, how noble and admirable it is to use the sacrifices of your sons to build up your kingdom."

Lorgar winked at Roboute Guilliman with a comical and amused expression, a smile spreading across his face, but his eyes were as cold as a monster gazing at the sky from the depths of an abyss.

"You, in your current state, will surely never suffer the pain I have endured today. If I weren't carrying a weapon, I would even applaud you."

Roboute Guilliman frowned deeply, finally showing a hint of human emotion.

However, even so, he did not directly engage in a verbal conflict with Lorgar. A soft and upright part of his heart did not allow him to retaliate at this time. This part prompted him to grit his teeth and respond to Lorgar's words with silent endurance.

And what about Lorgar Jia?

He smiled—once again.

This is also the last time.

"Silent? Fine, I'll make you all repent anyway." He said softly but firmly. "I'll let the entire Imperium know what happened here, I'll show them your true colors. I'll make you pay the price."

At the same time, he raised his right hand. The Word Bearers began to stir again, and Cole Fallon's power claw even started to crackle with electricity.

Malcador let out a deep sigh.

"Before you make your move," the Sigillites Lorgar in a hoarse voice, like a truly frail old man, "I hope you understand that there's more to today's events than meets the eye."

"Then why don't you speak?" the Primarch replied coldly, Illuminarum fell heavily to the ground.

Then--

Stop.

A burst of golden light suddenly erupted, as dazzling as the blazing sun.

--

Angron Tei gradually regained consciousness. He struggled to get up from the ground, feeling a sharp pain as if his internal organs had shifted.

At the same time, countless hoarse shouts erupted in the communication channel, clearly indicating that he was not the only one directly hit by the golden light. Several minutes later, Word Bearers finally regained the strength to stand up.

He crawled out of the ashes, gritting his teeth and urging his bones to move his muscles so he could stand. At this moment, he was still in a strange state of blindness, and the distorted noise and shouts from the communication channel were still eroding his willpower.

However, even under these circumstances, he clearly saw something and clearly heard something.

He saw Lorgar Aurelian kneeling before a man; he saw the Primarch's prostrate back and the man's face.

Angron Tei's vision was blurry; he shouldn't have been able to see these details, but he did, and they were as clear as knives piercing his gums.

That man was a scholar, a warrior, a scientist, a king, a pope, a madman, and a fraud.

He is everything; he is the source of their faith.

He is the Master of Mankind.

Angron Tai uttered a few indistinct words from his throat. "God God-Emperor."

"Is this a Judgment, Father?" Lorgar asked painfully.

"No," the man replied. "Besides, I didn't ask you to kneel, Lorgar. Why would you kneel before me?"

Lorgar looked up at him blankly. "Haven't things always been like this, Father? I've always been living up to your expectations of me—"

"--I've never asked you to do anything, Lorgar, never." The man said, seemingly somewhat disappointed. "Even with the Great Crusade, it was I who asked you to join. I've never asked you to treat me like a god."

"But, but—" the Primarch stammered, trembling, like a toddler learning to speak. "—You back then, you..."

The man sighed. He probably didn't do this often, or perhaps he was genuinely heartbroken. His voice sounded broken, as if it had been slashed by a razor blade.

"You are a general, Lorgar. Like all your other brothers, you may all have talents and interests in other areas, but your primary purpose in life, your first task—"

The man raised his hand and pointed to the sky. The sunset scenery suddenly changed at that moment, transforming into a swirling, shimmering star map. Angron Tai, lying in the ashes, looked up and barely made out the shapes of the stars.

He felt a sense of familiarity and quickly recognized it. It was a map of the Milky Way, and at this moment, it was terrifyingly real.

"--It's about conquest," The Emperor said slowly and ruthlessly. "Humanity must unite, and we must do whatever it takes to achieve this, but your progress is too slow, Lorgar. Every time you arrive in a new world, you begin proclaiming yourself a god."

"You've deceived them with lies, which is bad, but I could tolerate it. Until you even messed up this."

What's the problem?

Lorgar shifted his knees, reached out, and grabbed the man's clothes. His voice didn't reveal much excitement, but the veins on the back of his hand were bulging.

"I beg you to tell me, Father, I beg you to tell me. I will change, I will definitely change."

"I could have," The Emperor said, slowly shifting his gaze across the Word Bearers.

Angron Te met his gaze for less than a fraction of a second, but to the Word Bearers, it felt like ten thousand years.

He could clearly see the hatred, resentment, contempt, and disgust in the Emperor's eyes. All these emotions converged within that extended time, within those ten thousand years. Angron understood everything.

His two hearts stopped beating, and he finally understood and realized what the Emperor was doing—he was looking for someone.

Who are we looking for? Who is it that the Emperor despises so much, and yet they've infiltrated our ranks?

The 7th Assault Servitor, struggled to turn around amidst the city's ashes. He tried to help the Emperor find this person, but all he could see was a vast expanse of white ashes.

The Word Bearers lay in the ashes, only a few like him scanning the surroundings. Most lay on the ground, wailing incessantly.

"But now, I can't do it anymore." The Emperor sadly reached out and pressed his hand against Lorgar's cheek.

Next, his voice changed, becoming extremely soft and faint, so soft that only Lorgar Aurelian could hear it.

"He's mingling with your sons; what is he plotting?" Neos said softly. "He poisoned your city with Poison Needle, branding their souls prematurely with lies. And yet, I can't see who he is; something is helping him."

"Father?" Lorgar was stunned, his voice as innocent as a child's. "What, Father? What are you talking about?"

"I—" Neos closed his eyes, and his body began to sway.

Then, his voice resounded incessantly like a series of thunderclaps, as frantic as a stormy night during the monsoon season, with raindrops falling so rapidly they were terrifying.

"--Forgive your brother Lorgar. They were forced by me. They didn't want to do it, but they had no choice. I can't see the future. I'm blind, I'm an unfit father. You will suffer and fall into despair because of this, but I can't even see your Shadow. I don't know where you will be. I'm so sorry--"

He then vanished.

Lorgar Aurelian knelt on the spot, bewildered and helpless. After a long while, a hand reached out to him. It wasn't the hand of his brother or Malcador; they had been teleported to another place by the Emperor the instant the golden light erupted.

The hand, covered in scripture, was pale yet warm, reliable and loyal.

"Primarch?" Chief Chaplain Erebus asked with concern. "Are you alright?"

Lorgar glanced at him and slowly nodded.

Then he grasped that hand.

Late that night, there was a knock on Cole Fallon's door on the Fidelitas Lex. Erebus walked in with a smile, thanked the company commander, and returned a knife to him.

"We'll all thank you for that," Erebus said, winking.

Cole Fallon didn't answer; his expression was extremely complex. It contained elements of a father figure and also those of an ambitious man. After a moment, he reached for the knife, twisted it into a pretzel, and threw it on the ground.

"Get out, Erebus," the First Company said, with a mixture of disgust and fear.

"Oh, don't say that, my friend. You'll soon see how the false idols crumble."

Erebus chuckled and left.

--

"I hope he pulls through," Konrad Curze Curze said. "I don't know how the Emperor will treat him, but things are unlikely to go well."

Karyl nodded slowly.

He was suspended, his body bound by chains burning with psionic energy, which also stabilized something. In the dim light, his form appeared to be crumbling. Malcador stood beside him, his scepter glowing with a soft blue light.

"Are you alright?" Curze asked casually, hiding his hands.

"I'll get through this," Karyl said. "My end isn't here."

"Shut up and rest, you idiot. Why did you have to go to the surface with the Night Lords? Do you think they can't carry out their mission without you?" the Sigillites said coldly. "Besides..."

"I missed eighteen years, Malcador," Karyl replied helplessly. "I have to see how they've changed with my own eyes."

"What else?" the Night Lords asked.

Malcador didn't answer either Karyl or Curze; he simply gave Konrad Curze Curze a deep look. His sharp gaze pierced through the Night Lords's wide robes and reached deep into the sleeve of his right hand.

After a long while, he finally answered.

"Make good use of it, Konrad Curze Curze." The Sigillites shook his head, a mixture of sigh and relief. "Your foolish fathers are counting on it."

This chapter is 5k words, I'll add another 1k. The update on the 10th will be 7k words, split into two chapters.