No One Does It Better Than Me

"Praise the Emperor."

Praise the Emperor.

Praise the Emperor.

Praise the Emperor.

He had repeated those words more times than he could count, until his vocal cords tore and his lips wore down to the bone. Then the words became:

"Drench the galaxy in blood and sate the gods' hunger."

Why had the Emperor treated his most loyal servant this way?

Why couldn't the Emperor tolerate the Word Bearers' devotion?

Why had the Emperor destroyed a legion that had done nothing but praise him?

The Primarch Lorgar had given him the answer.

His father had told him: the Emperor was the False Emperor. The Emperor did not love humanity. The Emperor's truth was a lie. Chaos was the truth of the universe, and Chaos was humanity's ultimate destiny.

He had accepted that answer.

Later, he had knelt before his Primarch and sworn allegiance to Chaos, sacrificing his human organs to daemons in exchange for psychic power. After that, the question had no place in his mind.

He thought he had forgotten it long ago.

But now the question had crawled out of the ashes and returned. Like a needle, it pierced deep into his decayed soul, sending pain through it.

...If he still had a soul.

Could the False Emperor truly love humanity?

Impossible.

If the False Emperor loved humanity, why hadn't he loved the Word Bearers?

The Dark Apostle's fingertips dug into his staff, gouging five marks into the Wraithbone shaft.

Impossible.

The False Emperor did not love humanity at all.

Yet he recognized the light before him. That light belonged only to the one whose name he no longer dared speak, and his entire decayed being trembled at the sight of it.

Flames stopped spilling from the cracks at the corners of the Dark Apostle's mouth. Their split