Damn You, Yang Cheng

Elsewhere, Lorgar's Expeditionary Fleet had reclaimed dozens of Planets and exterminated more than a dozen civilizations that had yet to develop interstellar travel.

Bluewater Star.

The Planet was designated 13-23: the twenty-third Planet conquered by the Thirteenth Expeditionary Fleet.

In the banquet Hall, amber liquid swayed gently in an exquisite crystal glass, reflecting the soft glow of the simulated sunlight overhead.

The lord of the Word Bearers Legion wore ornate Power Armor that radiated strength, yet he studied the alien delicacy known as "honey wine" with almost elegant poise.

His deep gaze passed over the rim of the glass to the local rulers in the center of the Hall, who were doing their utmost to appear humble and obedient.

These creatures... calling them people seemed less fitting than calling them works of art, deliberately sculpted.

They were slender, with skin that held the soft luster of pearls and features so delicate they were almost uncanny. Every movement had a trained, almost dance-like rhythm.

Their voices sounded like gentle instruments as they professed boundless admiration and loyalty to the great Imperium of Man, praised the Emperor's glory, and lavished flattery on Lorgar himself.

To Lorgar, it was a badly staged play.

When the iron tide of the Imperium's Expeditionary Force descended upon a civilization that had never ventured beyond its own star system, its resistance proved laughably brief.

Its energy weapons could barely raise a ripple on the Void Shields of Imperial starships. Its ground forces were paper toys before the Legiones Astartes.

It was less a war than an adult scolding an infant, except the two sides were a vast interstellar empire and a weak native civilization.

The only pleasant surprise was what lay in his glass.

With that thought, Lorgar raised the glass to his lips and took a small sip.

A complex, rich flavor blossomed across his tongue: honeyed sweetness mingled with the fresh scent of a plant he had never tasted. It was smooth, with a lingering finish.

It truly was a fine drink. Lorgar could even imagine how lavishly that bottomless stomach Leman Russ would praise the honey wine if he were here.

If introduced to the Imperium, the drink would surely cause a frenzy among pleasure-seeking nobles and officials.

But appreciation did not mean mercy.

Xenos were xenos. Their kind could never be trusted. That was an iron law of the Imperium and a truth Lorgar believed without question.

The civilization's very existence posed a potential threat to humanity's purity.

Its art, its culture, even its unsettlingly perfect appearance—all were impurities to be purged in the light of the Emperor's truth.

When the glass was empty, Lorgar's gaze returned to its usual cold depth.

He set it down and gave an order to Chapter Master Rockefeller beside him:

"This species has no reason to continue existing. Execute the purification protocol. Leave nothing behind."

"But preserve the methods and ingredients used to make this honey wine, along with the relevant biological samples. The Imperium may have a use for them."

"As you command, my Primarch." Chapter Master Rockefeller bowed and accepted the order without hesitation or question. To the Adeptus Astartes, especially the warriors of the Word Bearers, a Primarch's command was divine decree.

The Chapter Master turned and relayed the order through his helmet's communicator to the Word Bearers across the battlefield.

Almost the moment the order was given, the scattered bolter fire outside the Hall became a dense, unbroken barrage, a torrential rain of death.

It was punctuated by the shrill whine of laser weapons and the dull sound of Power Weapons cutting through flesh. Beneath it all came the screams of the pearl-skinned creatures as they died—no longer pleasant, but filled with terror and pain.

Lorgar stood where he was. He did not even turn to watch the slaughter beyond the windows.

He could hear buildings collapsing in the distance and see the occasional flare of an explosion on the horizon.

He was like an indifferent artist who had finished appraising an exhibit destined for destruction, then ordered it ground to dust.

The xenos rulers who had been flattering him so gracefully stood frozen in the Hall, their delicate faces filled with disbelieving fear and despair.

They tried to beg, but words had lost all meaning.

The answer came in the precise, merciless bolter fire of the Word Bearers.

The bolter in Chapter Master Rockefeller's hands gave a steady roar. The foremost xenos ruler's head burst like a fragile ornament, spraying pearl-colored fragments and dark fluid across the sumptuous carpet.

The purge was swift and thorough.

Lorgar slowly turned away from the Hall as death swept through it.

He strode out, his Power Armor striking the polished floor with heavy steps that formed an eerie counterpoint to the fading sounds of slaughter.

Another species and its unique civilization, art, and everything else but its food recipes vanished silently among the stars beneath the unstoppable wheels of the Imperium of Man's expansion.

"Bring up the Star Chart."

Lorgar stared at the vast territory of the Imperium before him, lost in thought. He had set himself one task above all: to build up strength in secret, strength that could never be revealed openly.

That was why Lorgar had asked the Emperor for several more star systems and trillions of people. He needed a large enough reserve of recruits to face the Horus Heresy more than a century from now.

As for why he did not act now to prevent the Horus Heresy and bring Horus back to the loyalists?

Come on. The Horus Heresy was always going to happen. Even if Horus didn't rebel, Guilliman, Lion El'Jonson, or Sanguinius might. My arrival in this world has already caused a butterfly effect. Things are still within my control, and I'm not going to involve myself in events that are bound to happen.

But Angron, Mortarion, and Curze were worth saving. If it was within his power, he would certainly lend them a hand.

If there was nothing he could do, Lorgar could only call it a pity and send them back to the Warp with one swing of a hammer.

For now, Lorgar just wanted to build his strength in peace and stay out of major events. With his current forces, joining the Rangdan Campaign or fighting the Ork Empire would be suicide. The Rangdan especially—how could a place that could wipe out an entire Legion be anything but a nightmare?

"Yang Cheng, damn you. Why am I the one who ended up in Warhammer? Damn you." Lorgar thought of the hapless roommate who had often played Warhammer with him in his previous life. Why had he been sent to this godforsaken place instead of Yang Cheng?

Yang Cheng liked Warhammer even more than he did. So why had Lorgar not only become a Primarch, but the first Primarch to rebel?

"Wait..."

Lorgar suddenly remembered a Roleplaying Game he had played in his previous life. It had been set in a Blackstone Fortress.

And that Blackstone Fortress seemed to be not far from Colchis.