"That's why we must always remain vigilant."
Akshida, Espaea, and Nairo, all the high-ranking officials of Colchis, stood before Lorgar in shame. Every one of them had fallen to temptation. If not for the Circle of Ashes, their entire army would've been annihilated, the consequences catastrophic.
Lorgar turned to Erebus. "Erebus, what did you see in that book?"
"Temptation," Erebus replied.
Among everyone, he alone resisted through sheer will.
The gods no longer tempted Lorgar; they had tried once and failed.
So now they sought a more indirect path, corrupting Colchis's leaders one by one, subtly poisoning faith and eroding Lorgar's foundation.
Lorgar asked, "What did you see within the gods' temptation?"
Erebus answered, "Fear."
Lorgar disliked Erebus, yet only Erebus, who had also been educated by Caelan, truly understood him.
"Yes. Fear." Lorgar's gaze swept over Espaea and the others. His voice was deep and resolute.
"The gods fear us, because we are severing their source of power."
"Four thousand years ago, the gods destroyed Colchis's ancient civilization with a storm. And today, our civilization is far weaker than that of our ancestors. If the gods could still unleash their wrath upon us at will, as they did in ancient times, why would they instead resort to underhanded corruption and deceit, skulking in the shadows like rats?"
"Their fear proves our path is right. The gods' hold over reality weakens with every passing day!"
Espaea and the others raised their heads, their eyes once more shining with conviction.
If even the gods feared their defiance, what had they to fear?
It was the gods who should fear them.
"You're deceiving them," Medea said sharply, her gaze narrowing. "The gods' influence over the material world may have waned, but it's still beyond human power to resist."
"That's not a lie. I'm giving them something to believe in."
"You're asking mankind to abandon faith in the gods, yet you now ask them to have faith in you?"
"Who says faith must be placed in me or in the gods? Humanity's faith isn't as shallow as you think."
"Then what do you believe in?"
"I believe that humanity will one day rid itself of the cancer of religious faith and stand at the summit of the galaxy."
"That's your hope for the future."
"It's also my faith."
"There have been men who placed faith not in gods but in ideology, and they all failed."
Caelan interjected, "Because religion requires no foundation in reality. Human weakness drives many to flee from truth and numb themselves in elaborate lies. But ideology demands generations of sacrifice, a material foundation that can withstand reality."
Medea said, "I admit humanity once shone brightly during the Golden Age, but the gods destroyed that civilization in an instant with a single warp storm."
Lorgar, "So you're still afraid. You still don't believe we can rebuild."
Medea answered, "I believe you can rebuild, but not triumph over the gods."
Medea had once fallen for Jason through the gods' cruel play. At the end of her tragedy, she awoke, killed her children, and Jason's new lover.
She had rebelled, yet remained trapped within the gods' script. Her story had ended the moment the Golden Fleece was claimed; the gods cared nothing for what came after. They always stood above, looking down.
Medea would help Lorgar and Caelan rebuild Colchis, but as a remnant of the Golden Age, she could never surpass it. At best, she could restore its former level.
And then?
The disaster four thousand years ago proved that even the Golden Age was powerless before the gods.
Even if Lorgar and Caelan shut the gods out of the material world, what then?
The Immaterium would still belong to them. A single warp storm could cripple humanity's star travel, fracturing the Imperium into isolated colonies, plunging it back into the Age of Strife.
And once humanity was scattered, division would take root again.
Without unity, new covenants, new false faiths, would rise.
Would there even be an Emperor, or a Great Crusade?
If there were, they'd only repeat the same cycle.
Caelan shook his head. "Medea, you're too pessimistic."
Medea retorted, "Pessimism describes emotion. My conclusion comes from reason."
"Then I'll rephrase, you're a pessimist."
"I am," Medea nodded. "And you, are you an optimist?"
Caelan: "No. I'm a pessimist too."
She looked at him, surprised. "My logic tells me you're not lying, but I can't see it."
Caelan: "I never tell Lorgar nonsense like 'defy destiny' or 'man conquers heaven', because I don't believe it myself. But I don't teach them to surrender either. Since you've been watching us all this time, you're my student too. Lorgar and Erebus know what I teach; you still don't."
"I understand."
"No, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't have to ask."
She didn't argue. Though she was one of humanity's greatest AIs, a masterpiece of the Golden Age, she could never truly grasp emotion.
She could measure hormones, read tone, but not feel.
"Humans are born to die, so why don't they just die right away?" Caelan asked.
"Because they fear death," Medea answered.
"Do you die?"
"Though I'm an Iron Man, I too can die. Death awaits all life."
"Are you afraid of death?"
"Yes."
"Then why live?"
"Because I fear death."
"Then you fear the gods too, and you know what they'd do if they caught you. Why not end yourself instead?"
Medea fell silent.
"You could've stayed hidden deep underground. We'd never have found you, and the gods wouldn't notice you. Yet you came to meet us. Why?"
"Why?" she asked.
"You tell me."
"I have my answer, but I want yours."
Caelan said, "Because of defiance."
"Humans live because they fear death; that itself is rebellion. We know we can't win against the gods, yet we still choose to fight for humanity's rebirth. That too is rebellion."
"Even if we fail, at least we resisted."
"But what's the point?"
"The act of resistance is the point."
"You have no chance of success."
"So? Humans live knowing they'll die, they still struggle, because the struggle matters more than the end."
"In M2, Terra birthed the first nation guided by ideology. No one believed they'd win, yet they did. And though they later lost everything, their struggle shaped all of human history."
"That's the meaning of resistance, its fruit may ripen only in the distant future."
"Like you. Your creators meant for you to rebuild Colchis. You hid for millennia, but now you've chosen to rise, to act. That is your resistance."
"Our meeting, our revival, that is its meaning."
"I don't dare claim I understand, but I'll try."
"At least pretend to look thoughtful, would you? You're killing my sense of accomplishment."
She obliged, striking a pensive pose.
"Now it's worse." Caelan sighed.
He wasn't lying; he really was a pessimist.
When he first met the Emperor, his judgment was true: the Emperor was a brilliant, mighty fool.
Caelan believed the Emperor no longer trusted the men of the Golden Age to defy the gods, so he placed his hope in the future, gambling the fate of mankind on the Primarchs and the Great Crusade.
He was desperate, split between sanity and madness, because even he wasn't sure it would work.
The Emperor had seen millions of futures, perhaps one where mankind survived.
Like Doctor Strange, clutching at that one in fourteen million chance, and betting everything.
Caelan thought even that was generous; against the Four Chaos Gods, the odds were far worse.
Perhaps every one of the Emperor's insane moves was part of that one chance.
That's why he spent thirty years with Horus, yet wouldn't spare a minute for Angron.
In every future he'd seen, this was the only path that offered humanity even a sliver of hope.
Caelan admired him for that, for holding onto hope even in the face of despair.
If Caelan himself saw those odds, he might've given up entirely.
The Emperor was a gambler, humanity's last gambler.
Caelan wanted him to win. That was why he'd chosen to raise his sons.
Maybe, just maybe, they'd succeed.
And even if they didn't, at least they'd fought back, and left behind beautiful memories.
"Old man… old man…" Caelan murmured bitterly, thinking of his friend's fate.
Would he, too, end up like that?
He wanted to live, yet if the moment came where only he could act… would he still choose the coward's path?
Lorgar saw the sorrow in Caelan's eyes, and his heart ached. He embraced his teacher.
"No matter what happens, I will stand by you, always. That's my promise."
"You're getting sentimental," Caelan pushed him away. "Don't stand by me, stand by humanity."
"They're the same thing."
"Not always. What if the Four Chaos Gods turn me into a drooling lunatic?"
"Then I'll avenge you," Lorgar said solemnly. "At any cost."
"He's here."
On the 150th day since Lorgar's birth, the skies of Colchis darkened beneath countless ships.
At the edge of the Pit of Sorrow, Lorgar looked up. Beside him stood Caelan, and behind them, the Circle of Ashes, arrayed in formation.
But as the gray-white armored legions descended with mechanical precision, even the proudest ranks seemed to pale before their overwhelming might.
A god approached, and under that invisible weight, Lorgar trembled.
In his ears echoed the eternal song of heaven, a cosmic hymn resonating with truth itself, a symphony praising the one clad in gold and stars.
"You are not a god," Lorgar said, standing firm, meeting that golden gaze.
"I am not a god," the being replied.
The Emperor smiled, calm, proud, radiant. A smile filled with understanding and hope.
It was the smile of a father seeing his son break free of chains.
"Then you should not appear as one," Lorgar said coldly.
"Perhaps we should speak privately." Neoth glanced at Caelan, silently asking for help.
"Lorgar, this is your Legion," Caelan said.
Lorgar turned away from the Emperor and faced the warriors.
"Remove your helmets. Look upon me."
One by one, the warriors obeyed, holding their helms beneath their arms.
They had fought countless wars, earned endless honors, yet none felt as heavy as this moment, standing before their gene-father.
"How long has it been?" Caelan asked Neoth.
"Three years. Nostramo. It's the 816th year of M30."
"So Lorgar's the third?"
"Yes."
Caelan nodded. "Good. The timeline's aligned, the earlier the Primarchs return, the better."
Neoth said nothing.
Then Lorgar spoke: "The Emperor drives you with lies."
The words struck like thunder. Even the hardened warriors turned pale and knelt before him.
"I do not blame you," Lorgar said. "You are the Emperor's messengers, iconoclasts, the blades of the Imperium. You shattered the religions of Terra in the name of Imperial Truth."
"Mankind needs that truth, for most cannot bear the weight of reality. But you, Astartes, you must know the truth. The Imperial Truth itself is a lie."
"You were sent to free mortals from the lies of the gods, to tear down idols, burn temples, destroy scriptures, and slay priests. You did so before; you will continue to do so."
"We must stand guard upon the galaxy's dark frontier, bringing light, not bowing to fear."
"We will purge ignorance and superstition; the gods' lies shall burn to ash, no matter the cost."
"And remember this: I am not a god, nor is he." Lorgar pointed at the Emperor.
"We are both human, born of mortals, fighting for mortals."
"Do not despise mankind for its weakness, protect it. Do not forget why you fight."
"Because truth is cruel, we must hold fast to righteousness."
"This path is perilous. Even my brothers may not understand. But I ask not for loyalty, only that you follow what is right."
"If you would follow me, stand."
Ten thousand warriors rose as one, striking their chests with iron fists, their salute ringing through the stormwinds of Colchis.
"I am proud of what you have done. Yet your Legion was founded upon lies, and lies we must never serve."
"From this day forward, you are no longer the Imperial Heralds. You are the Word Bearers."
The Emperor's eyes turned to Medea. "This underworld is beautiful, but what is she?"
"A Men of Iron. I thought she was your creation." Caelan replied.
"I did attempt similar designs once, but not her. And I destroyed them all."
Caelan wasn't surprised. Neoth might have chosen the Imperial Truth, but he had explored every other path first, all dead ends.
He'd even tried to preserve the Dark Speech, hoping it could one day resist the warp, and failed.
"Keep her watched, Lorgar. Never let her command an army."
Lorgar nodded, already wary of her. Caelan merely sighed; that the Emperor had spared her life at all was mercy.
"You're not even hiding your words from me," Medea stated.
"You said you wanted honesty, remember?" Lorgard retorted.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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