53. Delayed Judgment (22, Twists)

If he could, Seraphax wished he and Lion El'Jonson could sit down and have a calm talk.

No deceit, no schemes, not even hostility—but he also knew full well that Lion El'Jonson would never agree to such a thing.

The Lion he knew was a man of immense willpower. He had been excessively cold-blooded in his youth, and had only grown harder with age. Wind and rain, crashing waves—no matter how much force you used, he would only stand there with the Lion Sword in hand, waiting for the moment to strike a fatal blow.

Lion El'Jonson saw himself as humanity's protector—for that purpose, he could do anything.

But there was still a vast distance between being willing to do something and actually accomplishing it.

Of course, he could keep struggling. He could keep using the willpower Seraphax had never seen in any other Lion El'Jonson to resist the Warp's sorcery, perhaps even regain clarity for a brief moment and speak with his own voice.

But he could not overcome all of this.

Seraphax turned his head and gave his primarch a long, deep look.

Darkness filled the surroundings. The Lion sat on the Throne with his eyes closed, the Lion Sword resting by his side. A faint beam of light descended from above and fell across his face. Though covered in blood, his majesty remained undiminished. He looked like a king who had fought through rivers of blood, murderous intent rising between his deeply furrowed brows.

Seraphax could not help but sigh.

He was tired, truly tired. Even the authority bestowed upon him by a god could not lessen that exhaustion in the slightest. Never in his life had he understood his own insignificance more profoundly than he did now.

*I am, in the end, only a mortal. I