Light (2)

"Too fast," the Wraith muttered. "Too fast, Karyl."

"It is a bit fast—are you nervous?"

The Wraith shook his head with great speed.

Karyl couldn't help but laugh. "Don't be nervous, Wraith. There is nothing to be nervous about; you are meeting your brothers and your father. If they are normal, you have no reason to be anxious."

The Wraith blinked, actually persuaded by Karyl, yet he still wanted to ask about the worst-case scenario: "What if they aren't normal?"

"."

Karyl rubbed his brow and said helplessly, "Don't do this, Wraith."

"Fine," the Wraith muttered in reply.

He clearly knew he had asked a question devoid of reason or logic. But he couldn't help it; he couldn't stop himself.

"Also, from here on out, I am going to call you Konrad Curze," Karyl said mid-leap.

He timed it perfectly, catching the moment just right to strike while the iron was hot.

"Why? Haven't we yet to confirm if he is actually my father?"

Konrad Curze asked, his voice dissipating into the cold wind along with his leap.

"He might be," Karyl said.

"But he might not be, too!"

".Out of consideration for politeness, can you? Please, Wraith."

".Fine." Konrad Curze nodded reluctantly.

Then, they continued running toward the outskirts of the city. One after the other, Karyl led the way as he always did.

His expression was calm. By all accounts, a moment like this should have moved him, yet he was now terrifyingly composed.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived outside the city.

"Desolate to the point of horror."

Fulgrim said. There was an obvious pity in his tone, and Rogal Dorn frowned, somewhat disliking the way his brother spoke.

"There is a city in the distance. It looks just as grim as it did when we surveyed it from orbit."

Lorgar voiced his emotions in a soft tone. "I am beginning to feel sorrow for those inhabitants."

Ferrus Manus crouched down. The giant plunged his silver hands deep into the steel-hard ground, and a moment later, he pinched a handful of buried, withered bones from it.

He looked at them, observing them in detail. Then, he reached a conclusion.

"Mutants, but there are normal humans as well," he said in a calm tone. "There are also bite marks from beasts on them."

"Cannibalism?" Rogal Dorn asked.

Fulgrim shook his head. "I beg you, Rogal, not now—"

"—You know I must," Rogal Dorn replied sternly. "Cannibalistic beasts must be purged entirely."

"Where is Father?" Lorgar asked.

He wore black robes with scriptures hanging from his waist, his golden skin glowing faintly. He had not participated in his brothers' discussion, instead concerning himself with another matter.

He was always concerned with this matter.

He looked expectantly at his brothers and asked again, "Does anyone know where Father is now?"

"I am here."

A majestic voice answered from behind them—almost instantly, Lorgar turned around, his speed so great that even Fulgrim was somewhat surprised.

"Father!" Lorgar called out enthusiastically. "You have arrived!"

"Father."

"Father!"

"Father."

The giant in golden armor nodded slightly, acknowledging his sons' greetings. He spoke with an expressionless face: "I hope you are not dissatisfied with my decision."

"Of course we are not!" Lorgar replied quickly. "Meeting our brother certainly does not require the involvement of our respective Legions!"

"We didn't bring many people with us to begin with," Rogal Dorn said. "Furthermore, I also believe it is correct not to involve the Legions in this matter."

"Truly, Rogal?" Fulgrim asked with a smile.

"Truly." Rogal Dorn nodded at him. "I do not lie."

The smile on Fulgrim's face vanished quickly. He sighed helplessly and turned to look at Ferrus. The latter kept his hands behind his back and shook his head calmly.

The giant in golden armor took in the reactions of his sons.

He did not judge Fulgrim's small attempt to liven the atmosphere, nor did he react to Rogal Dorn's indifference. To him, Lorgar's enthusiasm and Ferrus's reserve seemed to be one and the same.

He neither smiled nor appeared stern; there was nothing on his face.

He simply stood there.

Standing calmly—and then, the darkness was dispelled.

"They are here," The Emperor said.

As the words fell, two shadows emerged from the darkness that still lingered nearby, walking side by side.

One was tall, the other normal.

"It is him," Fulgrim whispered, his tone bordering on a mutter. "Konrad Curze."

Without reason, he was certain of it.

He was certain that the gaunt, towering giant dressed in tattered rags with skin as pale as a ghost was their brother. His words were silently agreed upon by the other three giants.

They watched their new brother with their own eyes, taking in every detail and every subtle reaction.

Rogal Dorn frowned again.

Lorgar pursed his lips, as if wanting to sigh.

Ferrus Manus clenched his fists without a change in expression.

At this very moment, a common thought was rising within their different hearts.

He is indeed just a child.

The shadows approached slowly, but The Emperor spoke before they could.

"Welcome, Kael Lohars. Thank you for your willingness to bring my son."

One of the shadows replied to The Emperor in a strange, hissing language. His voice was calm—so calm that it was impossible for it to be the reaction of a mortal meeting The Emperor.

"...Yes, I should indeed greet him first. But there are some things I need to make clear to you first, Kael Lohars. This is very important."

The Master of Mankind stepped forward and extended his right hand.

From Lorgar's angle, he could only see his father's back. But this did not prevent him from understanding the meaning behind the gesture, and in an instant, a complex emotion rose within his heart.

He looked at the shadow standing motionless in place, feeling somewhat angry at the shadow's insolence.

My father did not make you kneel, he thanked you, and he is even willing to extend his hand to you— he thought indignantly.

And what do you do? You actually dare to make him wait!

His gaze caused the tall shadow to look over, and a hissing sound erupted. The mortal called Kael Lohars patted him, and he grew quiet once more.

Fulgrim looked at Rogal Dorn, who said in a low voice without turning his head: "Do not use me as a comparison."

"You were studying when you were a year and a half old."

The handsome demigod chuckled teasingly. "And he was no different from you at a year and a half, right, Rogal? That mortal is lucky; he raised a Primarch."

Rogal Dorn sighed deeply, a very rare occurrence.

Ferrus looked away.

He did not like Fulgrim's talk of "luck"—there was no reason for it, he just did not like it. But he did not want to voice this.

He knew that Fulgrim's heart was in the right place.

Fulgrim simply enjoyed teasing and laughter. In essence, this behavior was no different from the innocence of a child at play. But because it occurred in a Primarch, it appeared particularly precious.

Ferrus Manus was willing to tolerate this playfulness, and he was willing to cherish it.

The hissing sound rose again, and The Emperor calmly withdrew his hand. Lorgar clenched his right hand tightly, the indignation in his eyes becoming even more apparent. Yet, The Emperor remained indifferent to his reaction.

It was not that he did not see it; he knew, but he did not react at all.

"Yes, we came by ship. Interstellar travel is no longer a rare thing in this era," The Emperor said in High Gothic.

After a silence, the shadow spoke again in the hissing language, and at the same time, a cold blue light ignited in his eyes.

Fulgrim was startled: "A psyker! No wonder he understood. I thought he was doing it on purpose."

"No, I am not," the shadow said in broken High Gothic. "I would not be so rude."

He was some distance from the Primarchs; by the standards of mortal hearing, he should not have been able to hear Fulgrim's whisper so clearly.

But he had heard it.

"I apologize for my son," The Emperor said. "Kael Lohars, your mastery of the warp is growing stronger."

Fulgrim's face flushed red.

"So this power is called the warp?"

"You did not know before?"

"I did not," the shadow said.

His High Gothic was becoming fluent within a mere few seconds, and his heavy accent had vanished: "However, I still believe you should speak with him first."

The Emperor shook his head slowly. He turned around and said a single sentence to his sons.

"Go and meet your brothers, have a talk, walk around."

"Father?" Lorgar asked, bewildered. "Walk around?"

Rogal Dorn saw the Shadow not far away pat their brother on the shoulder once more, and the giant, who was far less imposing than them, spoke in a very soft voice.

"I can take you for a stroll through the city."

He stood in the darkness, gazing at them. The demigods could feel the gaze of this strange brother; it was clear, devoid of any complex emotions.

Upon noticing this look, Fulgrim, who had been in a state of vexation, immediately spoke up: "Very well, brother!"

He turned his head to look at Ferrus. The latter nodded in advance, as if he had foreseen it: "I shall not decline."

Rogal Dorn said nothing, merely beginning to walk forward slowly. Every detail of this conversation so far had exceeded his expectations, but Rogal Dorn would not voice his opinions at this moment.

He simply agreed with their father's decision, agreeing so thoroughly that he even adjusted his stride to ensure he would not appear too threatening in the eyes of mortals.

He knew all too well what he signified to mortals.

Fulgrim and Ferrus followed closely behind, leaving only Lorgar standing where he was, his skin radiating a golden light, his expression one of utter confusion: "Father?"

"Go," The Emperor said.

And so, Lorgar had no other choice.

As a member of the Night Lords, it is quite common to update in secret, isn't it?

Additionally, one thing to mention.

Due to some issues with the setting, half of my drafted chapters have been scrapped, but it doesn't matter; I will burst out updates for a few days to make up for it.

Thirty chapters upon release is something I will definitely achieve.