Meanwhile, on the other side.
The Warp.
This unhinged dimension, which had never operated by common sense, was quietly embracing the colossal vessel in its eternal, twisted glory.
An Abyss-class battleship.
Its scale even surpassed that of a Gloriana-class battleship. Its towering spires pierced into the perpetual, swirling mist of the Warp, as if offering deference to those indescribable entities beyond.
Within this realm of eternal unreality, such a warship represented the dedicated flagship of a specific Chaos Legion—the Word Bearers, under Erebus.
Erebus strolled slowly through the interior of this giant vessel.
Ever since the Pandorax campaign began, his sharp intuition had warned him that something was off.
Or rather, one hardly needed sharp intuition at all. When confronted with an utterly absurd force of six thousand Gloriana-class battleships, Erebus instantly realized just how wildly his original plans had diverged from reality.
This primary source of all evil within Chaos naturally sniffed out the scent of impending disaster.
Thus, the moment he stepped foot on Pandorax's surface, Erebus did what he did best.
He bolted!
The so-called "Erebus" who had stayed by Abaddon's side was nothing more than a carefully crafted disguise he had prepared a thousand years prior—a shell infused with enough Chaos energy, paired with a psuedo-consciousness stripped from some unfortunate demon, perfectly capable of deceiving anyone.
Including, of course, that fool Abaddon.
At the thought of this, the corners of Erebus's lips curled up slightly into a disdainful smile.
Did that self-proclaimed Warmaster of Chaos truly believe anyone took him seriously?
Laughable.
Erebus wiped the smile from his face.
His footsteps echoed within the belly of the giant beast.
The eternal, incessant unholy chants of Chaos beat against his consciousness like surging waves, trying to bore deep into his soul, but Erebus remained completely unbothered.
He had been soaked in this insane dimension for far too long; whispers that could drive an ordinary mortal instantly insane were nothing more than white noise to his ears.
"—Where is my noble genetic progenitor?"
After walking for a short while, Erebus came to a halt and asked the few Word Bearers standing before him.
Even though Erebus's actions were vile beyond words, and the number of people wanting him dead could wrap around the Solar System several times from the Warp to realspace, he remained firmly entrenched with high status in the Legion. Other Word Bearers had no right to question his decisions and actions, and even had to obey his orders like a superior's.
The Word Bearers exchanged looks.
Then, the leader among them spoke up.
"Lord Erebus, due to certain matters, the Primarch is in a very foul mood."
He paused, as if gathering the courage to say the next words.
"We must remind you that it would be wise to exercise caution."
Erebus frowned.
Even among the superhuman Primarchs, Lorgar Aurelian was arguably the most difficult to serve.
Calling his temperament fickle would be an understatement. He could view you as his closest confidant one moment, and tear you to shreds the next over the slightest offense.
An active volcano with such erratic moods was hard enough for anyone to handle, let alone a Primarch whose destructive capacity far defied normal logic.
Even Erebus had to maintain absolute vigilance when facing Lorgar.
"—Where is Kor Phaeron?"
He pondered for a moment before asking the question.
Kor Phaeron. Lorgar's adoptive father. The mortal who had taken in the newborn Lorgar on Colchis and raised him with his own hands.
Over those ten thousand long years, no one could replace the position this makeshift Space Marine held in Lorgar's heart.
No matter how vast the gap in status and power between them grew, Lorgar's respect for him had never wavered. Any criticism or complaint he voiced would be fully accepted by the Primarch—a privilege unique to him in the entire Word Bearers Legion.
Even Erebus maintained outward respect toward Kor Phaeron, though deep down...
Well, "contempt" was a far more accurate word.
Still, if even the Word Bearers who were accustomed to Lorgar's temper said he was in a bad mood, finding Kor Phaeron to serve as a buffer was undoubtedly a wise move.
"He... is dead."
The lead Word Bearer replied with a strange expression, then shook his head.
Erebus froze.
"Dead?"
An unhideable trace of astonishment was packed in his voice.
How did he die?
The old man's survival skills were even more formidable than Erebus's own.
How could he suddenly die?
Besides, now that he thought about it, this place itself felt very off.
Although this Abyss-class battleship belonged to the Word Bearers, it was never Lorgar's fixed residence.
As far as Erebus knew, Lorgar had shut himself away in a Chaos citadel named Sicarus for thousands of years, continuously contemplating the deepest mysteries of the Warp.
When did he move his base of operations here?
"It's a long story..."
Before the Word Bearers could finish, the leader's face suddenly shifted, as if remembering something. He nervously waved his hand, signaling Erebus to keep walking forward.
Erebus's heart sank.
However, he also understood that now was not the time to press for answers.
He continued forward.
The deeper he ventured into the interior, the denser the Chaos scriptures became.
They were no longer confined to the walls and ceiling, but began to saturate the air itself, veils formed of twisted language swaying in the stale, dark airflow.
As Erebus passed through them, the scriptures seemed to sense his presence and surged toward him.
His footsteps echoed on.
Then, he heard it.
Behind the tightly shut bronze doors, a deep, slow prayer resounded.
It was the voice of Lorgar Aurelian.
"All I ever wanted was the truth. Never did I attempt to overthrow the empire of lies built by my father out of a whim of arrogance."
The voice was slow and steady. "I never wished to drown humanity in blood, to consume the lives of half the galaxy's human population. I never craved any of this. Though I knew deep down the necessity of doing so."
"All I ever wanted was the truth."
Erebus stopped in his tracks.
This was the opening chapter of the Book of Lorgar...
Erebus naturally knew what Lorgar was reciting; he had read every single scripture written by his genetic father.
The issue was—why was Lorgar reciting this now?
Taking a deep breath, Erebus reached out and pushed open the heavy bronze doors.
Then, he stepped into the dark.
The interior of the room was consumed by total blackness.
Even with an Astartes's superhuman night vision, the dark remained impenetrable.
At the center of that blackness, the only thing flickering was a tiny cluster of candle flames, barely illuminating a radius of a few feet around itself.
Behind a broad desk sat a figure.
Lorgar Aurelian.
"You have returned, Erebus."
The Primarch's voice was as calm as still water.
"—Yes, Lord Primarch."
Even Erebus dutifully lowered his head, hiding the fleeting shock in his eyes.
Just a moment ago, the candlelight had flickered slightly, illuminating Lorgar's face.
That face, once covered in Chaos scriptures, was now entirely disfigured.
Across it was a wound resembling the sweep of a raptor's brutal talons, violent and ferocious.
Blood constantly seeped from the unhealing wound, trickling down Lorgar's cheeks and leaving his face drenched in red.
At this very moment, around that wound, a pulsating mass of Chaos energy surged back and forth. Beams of dark purple light wriggled in and out of the tear like living things, attempting to sew the shredded skin back together, to no avail.
Erebus instantly withdrew his gaze.
"You saw it, didn't you."
To Erebus's surprise, Lorgar seemed completely unbothered by it, nor was he in a wild rage as the other Word Bearers had claimed.
On the contrary, his tone was terrifyingly calm.
"It is a parting gift left to me by a rather short-tempered brother."
Lorgar gently raised his hand, touching the claw mark with his finger.
His fingertip was stained with a trace of dark red blood, and an unreadable smile actually surfaced on his disfigured face.
"Heh. After ten thousand years, he remains just as relentless. Dwelling on petty matters of the past, unable to let go, unaware that he himself is now hardly any different from us."
Erebus nodded.
He didn't ask who that "short-tempered brother" was.
Among the Primarchs, there was only one person capable of and willing to hunt Lorgar through the Warp.
So that was it.
No wonder Lorgar hadn't shown his face during that monumental battle capable of deciding the balance of power between the Warp and realspace, sending only a single Abyss-class battleship to assist his brother Fulgrim.
Turns out, he truly couldn't free himself.
...Poor Kor Phaeron.
Erebus thought casually to himself.
When I have time later, I'll offer a proper sacrifice in your honor.
However, he didn't spend a single second mourning Kor Phaeron.
Focusing his mind, Erebus seized this golden opportunity. Lorgar had fallen into a strange state of composure right now.
Though he didn't know how long this calm would last, at least in this moment, he had a chance to speak.
"My Primarch," he said earnestly.
"Right now, those ignorant fools are feasting in realspace. They boast of having achieved victory, unaware that the war is far from over."
He paused briefly, observing Lorgar's reaction.
The Primarch gave no response, continuing to look down at the open Chaos scripture on the desk.
Erebus licked his lips and continued.
"That foolish, arrogant megalomaniac you despise has self-proclaimed as the so-called Regent of the Imperium, spouting monstrous lies to humanity. Even though you are the one who exerted the deepest influence on this Imperium, he erased all of your accomplishments."
"Are you truly content with this?"
There was an instigating edge to Erebus's voice.
However, Lorgar's response rendered all his efforts completely useless.
"Then let him continue playing his management simulation game."
The Primarch looked up, his hollow, almost empty eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.
"Let him indulge in those trivial, meaningless honors. I don't care about any of it in the slightest."
His voice didn't waver; his tone bore only a faint, subtle trace of weariness.
"I am currently studying the deepest secrets of the Warp and have no time for such matters."
Erebus wanted to say more, but Lorgar waved his hand impatiently. The implicit warning in that gesture forced all of Erebus's remaining words back down his throat.
"I know what you want to say, Erebus."
Lorgar's voice turned cold.
"I have already done what needs to be done. The rest, I leave to time."
Erebus fell silent.
His mind was filled with confusion.
Done what?
How come I don't know about it?
Lorgar raised his eyes and cast a glance at him.
"You know far too little about that newly emerged Ascendant among humanity," Lorgar said slowly. "To deal with an Ascendant of the Warp like him, it is impossible without finding him an opponent of equal standing."
Erebus held his breath.
"Restricted by my father, the power of the Four Gods of Chaos cannot be brought to bear in full. Their strength will never be able to kill this Warp Ascendant. Thus, the only thing they can do next is seek out an even greater power to use as a means of pressure."
Could that really be done?
Erebus felt somewhat doubtful.
The Ruinous Powers were already the strongest representations of power he could comprehend. What could possibly be stronger than the Four Chaos Gods?
With no intention of explaining to him, Lorgar gently tapped his finger on the desk.
"And what I did was quite simple."
"A flick of my fingers to give those guys something to do—nothing more."
He shifted his gaze, casually picking up an object from the side of the desk to play with in his hand.
It was an oddly shaped Aeldari spear.
Erebus's pupils contracted violently.
The overall design of that weapon was unmistakably Aeldari in style, and deep within its blade surged a majestic power that even Erebus could clearly sense through his psychic vision.
Without a doubt, it was an immensely powerful divine artifact.
Yet, Lorgar simply set it aside casually, his demeanor so indifferent it was as if it were nothing more than a minor trinket.
The candlelight flickered.
Erebus caught a glimpse of an unfathomable smile appearing at the corner of the Primarch's lips.
"To quote an old saying from Ancient Terra—"
Lorgar's voice echoed through the darkness. "Next, all we shall do is bide our time and await the proper moment."
"Let those fools live in dreamland, thoroughly intoxicated by that numbness called peace."
He looked up.
Deep within those hollow eyes, a future only he could see seemed to be reflected.
"They will never imagine the scale of turbulence the galaxy is about to plunge into. Every race shall burn fiercely in the grand war to come."