After a long period of preparation and buildup, Lorgar Aurelian's ambition finally emerged from its dormant state, baring its fangs.
He had never wanted to bow and scrape before Horus, becoming some clay idol to be commanded at his whim.
Only he deserved the blessing of the Primordial Truth. Only he could comprehend the truth of the world. A fool like Horus, drunk on power and conquest, was utterly unworthy of such things.
He had already seen it: the great Warmaster had completely lost control of his own body. The powers of the four Chaos Gods had fused within him, forming a complex and entirely new will that controlled everything.
He no longer possessed any concept of personal desire. Everything he did served only to contribute to the grand game of the four Chaos Gods.
"Horus is no longer even qualified to be called a complete man. In that case, I can take his place!"
Everything had been laid out. So long as he defeated Horus here and cast him down from his proudest, most glorious throne, all would submit to him.
Chaos had never favored a loser.
In Lorgar's eyes, Horus's defeat was already inevitable.
The Warmaster was waiting for his brothers to arrive. He stood there at ease, like an ancient mountain rooted in place, unchanged no matter the wind and rain or the passing years.
And a being that remained unchanged within an ever-changing world was usually called, by humanity: a god.
Lorgar wore a falsely modest smile as he rapidly closed the distance between himself and Horus, while his sons and his hidden cards raced after him from behind.
The closer they drew to the Wolf Lord, the greater the other man's presence became in their eyes.
Horus had clearly not changed at all, yet the