Jaghatai's piercing gaze scraped across Mortarion's face like a scalpel, seeking to strip away every layer of disguise and look straight into the depths of his soul.
"Ha!"
He gave a laugh devoid of warmth, breaking the heavy silence.
"Atonement? Mortarion, your tears and repentance are ten thousand years too late, and as cheap as the rotting muck in Nurgle's Garden!"
"Ten thousand years of slaughter! Ten thousand years of betrayal! You paved your road to damnation with the bones of your own people! And you think one glib word, 'atonement,' can wipe it all away? Your Progeny?"
The Khan's eyes were filled with utter contempt.
"They've soaked in the Grandfather's pus for too long. Their souls are as rotten as those maggots! The Panacea might wash away the sores and festering growths on their flesh, but can it cleanse the memories of betrayal branded deep into their souls? Can it erase the vicious laughter they let out as they poured plague down the throats of the Loyalists with their own hands?"
He stepped forward, bearing down on Mortarion with an invisible pressure.
"Even if... even if there really are a few poor bastards who, like you, still retain some pitiful fragment of humanity, what of it? Are we supposed to send a former Daemon Prince, the greatest source of instability of all, back into that cesspit of Chaos, the Eye of Terror? Let him return with a lifesaving medicine?!"
The Khan's derisive laugh dripped with sarcasm.
"Even an idiot could tell that bargain would cost us everything! Your so-called 'redemption,' Mortarion, sounds more like an excuse to ease that pitiful, laughable scrap of guilt deep in your soul! You want to play the savior? Spare us! You can't even save your own soul!"
"I suggest we put Mortarion on