Erda ignored Lorgar's words, her expression still cold as frost.
She hovered in midair, the edges of her sand-colored robe fluttering gently in the unsettled currents, her long hair spreading behind her shoulders like waterweed.
She did not rush to launch another attack. Instead, she steadied her breathing and gathered the power of Enuncia once more.
Her gaze remained fixed on Lorgar. Its earlier composure was gone, replaced by a trace of gravity, scrutiny, and the seriousness of reassessing an opponent.
Lorgar was about to press his advantage when a voice suddenly sounded deep within his mind.
It sounded insufferably smug, its easy teasing utterly at odds with the tension of the moment.
"Lorgar~ Lorgar~ Need some help~?"
Lorgar's movements faltered.
The corner of his mouth twitched. That voice always timed its arrival precisely to test the limits of his patience—not a moment sooner or later, appearing exactly when he least wanted to be disturbed.
"Uh, you old bastard..." he replied in his mind, making no attempt to hide his distaste.
"Hello, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
"...Even if you're playing dumb, you don't have to pretend to ignore me." The Emperor's voice sounded again, carrying a faintly wounded protest, like an old father whose son had neglected him.
"It took some doing to find the time to check on my dearest son. And this is how you treat me?"
"I specifically canceled a chess game with Malcador to come see you. Can't you at least be a little touched?"
"Heh." Lorgar chuckled and said nothing more.
"I want to do my part in kicking Erda's ass, too." The Emperor's voice brimmed with eager enthusiasm.
*"I have plenty of ways to make her regret ever being born into this world—want to hear them? I could start dismantling