The flagship Endurance
Cold starlight streamed through the vast observation window, falling across two towering figures standing in silence.
Outside lay a space station where a bloody boarding action had just ended, surrounded by countless drifting wrecks, and farther beyond, a battlefield burning in silence.
Mortarion broke the silence first. His voice was low and flat, like rusty metal pipes grinding under pressure.
"This is the last time I will operate alongside you, Lorgar."
He slowly turned his head. Beneath the shadow of his hood, his deep-set eyes fixed directly on Lorgar beside him. Their gray-brown color was unusually plain, almost like that of some farm laborer.
His gaze was not piercing, yet it held a peculiar focus, as though he could see through appearances.
Those eyes, which seemed to reject everything, could now "see" the invisible yet undeniably real strands of golden psychic energy around Lorgar, rippling slowly like warm currents of water.
The sight made him instinctively uncomfortable, like a cleanliness fanatic confronted with a stain.
"That aura you give off disgusts me..." Mortarion turned his head slightly aside, as though avoiding an unpleasant smell.
"I despise psychic energy. In any form."
At that, Lorgar turned to face Mortarion's rejecting gaze. His tone was relaxed, even carrying a hint of dismissive teasing.
"Psychic energy? Oh, my dear brother Mortarion, don't be so dogmatic."
"Don't forget, a power of a similar nature flows through you as well. It is part of our birthright, a gift from Father."
"No." Mortarion immediately contradicted him, his voice absolute. A flicker of stubbornness crossed his gray-brown eyes.
"What I carry is not the nebulous, uncontrollable psychic energy you speak of."
"What I command is numerology. It is a precise science that can be observed, measured, and derived through formulas. The underlying logic of