Sevatar genuinely enjoyed having conversations with the brothers from the Raven Guard.
Their Primarch was the kind of gene-father every Nostraman and Terran-born envied. Even though the Night Lords had long since changed their recruiting world, that didn't diminish their belief in pursuing light from within the darkness.
The Raven Lord had clearly achieved this. Powerful, carrying deep conviction, willing to speak for those at the bottom, and doing so through action — willing to struggle toward an ideal.
For a group of Astartes who practiced justice in the dark, this was the ideal Primarch.
But Sevatar only allowed himself to think it. His father didn't manage the Legion much, and was being tormented by his prescient gifts nearly to the point of madness, ferociously ruthless when he acted — and yet he was a good father.
He had been changing. Sevatar and the Night Lords all knew it. Ever since the father had died once, though still as obsessive and extreme as ever, he had changed considerably.
At minimum, he was willing to carve out time to actually manage the Legion. He was willing to spend time thinking about whether his previous behaviour had been too extreme.
Change was good, in Sevatar's view. The Night Lords felt the same.
But when the father and the Nineteenth Primarch met, the relationship was not a warm one.
Between the Legions there was no problem — the Astartes got along very well, duels and exchanges of skill were thriving, even in wartime.
But Corax and Konrad were different. One was envious that his brother had become what he himself aspired to be. The other was unhappy that his brother refused to manage his Legion properly and acted with such extreme methods.
As a result, the two Primarchs started fighting the moment they met. Their mastery of concealment was so exceptional that even Sevatar and Fal couldn't find either of their fathers.
Nobody even knew which location the two Primarchs had already exchanged several hundred rounds in.
It was eventually Corax who considered the bigger picture and finally chose to reveal himself before the assembled Astartes. Konrad was talked down by Sevatar and didn't continue his episode.
For both Primarchs, this had been an uncomfortable meeting.
But Sevatar and Fal and the others felt none of this. The exchanges between the two Legions were considerably friendlier than Konrad had imagined.
"I always thought I'd failed, since I so rarely paid attention to any of you, Sev."
Konrad was concealed in shadows, watching the mutually restrained sparring in the duelling grounds, and the atmosphere of genuine warmth — and felt something inexplicably like heartache and inadequacy.
He felt as though he himself was the most out-of-place person in his entire Legion. He was the Primarch. The Night Lords were his Legion. But the Legion didn't belong to him.
He looked at Sevatar, who was equally hiding in the shadows with him. The two of them were like mice peering at the happiness of sons and brothers.
"It seems I overestimated myself. Not only am I a failure — perhaps even one of my brothers taken at random would be more beloved by you all than I am."
"Father, that's not—"
Sevatar had no idea what his self-doubting and sensitive father had jumped to this time, but there was only one Primarch for the Night Lords, and only one Legion Master.
Konrad didn't listen to the rest of his most-admired son's words. He quietly slipped away from this painful place, leaving no trace.
Sevatar had been about to go find his father — he didn't want to see him so alone — but Konrad spoke through psychic means into his mind, saying he wanted a moment alone. That stopped Sevatar in his tracks.
His father's manner left Sevatar feeling unsettled.
He had invested a great deal into both his brothers and his father — as the person who had in practical terms been the true Legion Master of the Night Lords for a long time now.
He wanted the Legion to stay true to its principles and its sense of justice. He also didn't want his father to continue down such an extreme and obsessive path.
When Perturabo had proposed taking Nostramo and replacing it with a paradise world for the Night Lords, Sevatar had been the first to agree — and had overridden his father's position and implemented the order by force.
Nostramo was genuinely wretched. Wretched enough that even Konrad had wanted to destroy it himself.
Nostramo's culture bore considerable responsibility for what Konrad had become.
The decision had been greeted with considerable abuse from within the Legion at the time. Tenth Company Captain Makarion — Talos's direct superior — had immediately challenged Sevatar to a duel on the spot.
Perturabo's reputation had not been good then, and with Konrad absent from Legion affairs, Sevatar had been effectively filling the commander's role. This had led to unfavourable assumptions. Sevatar had been left with no choice but to ally with the Terran-born led by Cassata and force the matter through. That was what it had taken to resolve things.
With Konrad refusing to engage, and Perturabo sealing opposition with generous fleet assets and equipment, the brothers — though still occasionally grumbling — had grudgingly accepted the proposal they considered an insult.
But as time passed on Saemenael, those brothers began to understand just how wise Sevatar's decision had been.
The environment was entirely alien to what they knew — that clear sunlight made them physically uncomfortable — but they had to admit: only a world like this could genuinely produce sons from decent families to fill the Legion, rather than relying on criminals.
When the Nostraman-born children raised on Saemenael began to grow into themselves, the Night Lords finally understood what a genuinely normal world looked like, and what a normal world's order and values actually were.
From that point on, within the Night Lords, Sevatar had truly become the unquestioned voice of authority. He led the Legion through the Great Crusade to a record that caught attention — their efficient operations had even prompted Perturabo to personally issue a commendation.
That was honour. Honour they should have been able to carry into a dignified retirement, or a career as Judges and Grand Provosts.
Damn those traitors.
And right now, in the duelling grounds of the Nightfall, Chief Librarian Sharogyn and Night Lords Tenth Company Captain Makarion were exchanging skills.
Their technique was exceptional. Makarion was surprised by this unknown Chief Librarian.
"I've never heard of you before. Did you join recently?"
He blocked a blow from Sharogyn and asked.
"Yes. The Commander nominated me to Father two months ago."
"That explains it. Your combat skill is strong. And I'm guessing this isn't even your strongest area?"
Makarion's attacks were sharp. Night Lords with partial prescient ability held considerable advantage in assassination and duelling.
"Long-range sniping and concealment — those are what I know best."
Deflecting his opponent's attack smoothly, Sharogyn found an opening and used his lightning claws to push Makarion back.
This was a good moment to shift from passive to active — but Sharogyn stopped. Makarion didn't press forward either.
"Call this one mine — you're holding back. This setting doesn't suit you."
Makarion didn't argue. He conceded. He could see the cousin had been restraining himself.
Though among all the Legions, the ones who could beat him in a duel were only a small handful at the very top. This unassuming young man was genuinely impressive.
"Call it a draw. On a real battlefield, there's no such thing as a suitable setting."
This one suits him. Makarion produced a smile that could stop children crying in the dark.
"Where did you just go? I've been wanting a proper match with you for a long time."
Fal and Sevatar were exchanging blows with their lightning claws freely and at full intensity.
Both of their speed and strength had long since exceeded ordinary Astartes levels. The collision of supreme technique was making Night Lords and Raven Guard alike stop and stare involuntarily.
"Small business to deal with. Took a little time."
The two came to grips.
"Small business. I imagine that means your father again. He really doesn't act like a Legion Master sometimes — making you carry this much responsibility."
Fal said this without any hesitation, speaking Konrad's failings plainly.
This didn't make Sevatar or the Night Lords furious. The engagement on the duelling grounds between the two of them simply became sharper and more intense.
"Father is simply suffering greatly because of Nostramo and what his prescience does to him. He's been changing."
"As a Primarch, as a Legion Master — if someone can't shoulder the responsibilities of their position, they should step back while they still can."
"None of us want responsibility. We're simply forced into it by who we are."
"So you can shoulder it, but your father can't? Just because of this 'I don't want to do this' — that justifies abandoning your duties and spending your days drowning in your own world?"
Fal drove Sevatar back, the flat of a power claw striking against his chest armour.
"No excuse covers the truth that he's simply a coward who wants to escape his responsibilities. He's failed in his duty as a father. He's failed in his duty as a Legion Master. He hides in his own mental world, tormenting the weak to pass the time in his depression."
Sevatar didn't answer. He charged straight forward and locked with Fal again.
Both had undergone the Primcast surgery and were evenly matched in everything. Neither could gain a decisive edge.
The spectacular contest between the Master of Shadows and the Shade Lord had everyone instinctively ignoring the previous conversation. Duels of this calibre were rare.
And then in the next moment, both stopped simultaneously. Everyone heard the alert from the logic engine.
"Forward contacts: 'Emperor's Children' and 'Iron Hands' Legion flagships detected. Based on heraldry and livery, both Legions confirmed as traitor forces."
"So we're looking at two enemy Primarch-led main fleets?"
There was a thread of excitement in Sahlen's voice. If this went well, between their fleet strength and their own capabilities, they could completely annihilate both Legions here.
"That appears to be the case. And they seem to have fallen to the Pleasure Lord's faction."
Corvus and Konrad looked at the footage relayed by the logic engine, expressions grave.
The 'Emperor's Children's' betrayal was comprehensible, more or less. But the 'Iron Hands' — why?
A group of tech-minded warriors who believed flesh was weak, devoted to the Omnissiah — how had the Pleasure Lord gotten to them?
Especially 'Ferrus.' Someone whose will had been strong enough to make even the Lion feel some self-reproach — how could he possibly have been corrupted like this?
So Corvus and Konrad made a decision that left both Fal and Sevatar completely unable to follow the logic.
"Father — there's really no need for this. We can weaken them with bombardment first. We can board after we've taken out most of their fleet."
"Exactly — there could be traps aboard. The traitors might have set something up specifically to draw us in. There's genuinely no need for this."
Fal and Sevatar genuinely wanted to talk their fathers down. But both Primarchs were the kind who would make the same mistake next time even after being proven wrong — they were determined to find out firsthand what had happened to their brothers.
Even if those brothers were now entirely beyond this world.
"At least let us do a couple of rounds of fire first before you move. Please?"
Sevatar made the final compromise. Konrad and Corvus ultimately listened to their sons — no abandoning their own advantages before depleting the traitors' strength first.
Aboard the Pride of the Emperor, the 'Fulgrim' who had transformed into something resembling a serpentine creature was wrapped tightly around 'Ferrus' with all four arms and his serpentine tail.
The 'Iron Snake' had become something even 'Fulgrim' couldn't fully recognise. When 'Fulgrim' had first learned that 'Ferrus' had also been embraced by the Pleasure Lord, his first reaction had been impossible, followed quickly by excitement and something like delight.
"I always knew — you supported me, didn't you? That's why you stand on the same side as me. My Gorgon."
'Fulgrim' seemed almost bashfully to press himself into 'Ferrus's' embrace. But the skull was gone. The Iron Snake had replaced his will.
'Ferrus' was dead. What persisted was nothing more than a severely distorted remnant of consciousness.
'Fulgrim' had gone fully unhinged the moment he saw Ferrus. 'Lion' struggled to describe what that scene had looked like — but from that day forward, the 'Iron Hands' and the 'Emperor's Children' had been written off.
Both Legions' indulgence and degeneration had reached a point beyond recovery. However refined the technique or formidable the military strength, under this level of excess they were completely incapable of expressing it.
Addicts could not be relied upon. Especially these creatures, degenerate by orders of magnitude beyond ordinary addiction — Slaanesh's running dogs.
Space Marines who insisted on opening their depraved chambers even during a war — and they thought they could participate in the great rebellion?
'Horus' had tacitly written off 'Fulgrim.' 'Lion' had done the same. These two had simply had the misfortune of wandering out into the open and running directly into the Night Lords and the Raven Guard.
By now, the 'Emperor's Children' and the 'Iron Hands' were no longer capable of large-scale sustained combat.
In the middle of a battle, they would become absorbed in the pleasures and sensations of whatever they were doing, forget what they had originally come to accomplish, and simply stop.
Every time they were sent out on a task, 'Lion' and 'Dorn' never expected them to complete it. They could serve as decent cannon fodder to absorb attention. That was the extent of their usefulness.
"Father — the False Emperor's servants are approaching. Should we board immediately?"
'Lucius' walked in, ignoring what the two Primarchs were doing entirely. The combination of devotion to his father and Slaanesh's influence meant he wouldn't pay any attention to something like this.
"Hmm? What?"
'Fulgrim's' eyes were glazed and unfocused. Having become barely capable of thinking about anything beyond the Gorgon, he had lost any clear awareness of other matters some time ago.
"Should we board the False Emperor's servants? At our speed, their fire coverage is nothing."
"Go ahead then. Come back when you're done. Don't interrupt us right now. Tell the Gorgon's sons not to bother coming either — just tell them we know and they can do whatever they want."
"Yes."
'Lucius' looked with poorly-concealed longing at his father's "perfect" form. Since his fall, a particular dark idea had been present in the back of his mind — though it wasn't very easy to put into practice.
With reluctance he left the bedroom, which was saturated with psychically stimulating and disturbing emanations. Two enormous entities sank back into their indulgence.
On the Imperial side, Corvus and Sevatar had already acquired targeting solutions on the traitor fleets.
"Fire!"
The vast fleet demonstrated its true strength once again.
Terrifying fire output swept toward the enemy the way it had throughout the Great Crusade — except now the targets were former Astartes Legions. Brothers.
Nova Cannon beams and plasma macro-cannon fire poured down like rain, shredding the 'Emperor's Children's' and 'Iron Hands' formations in moments.
Their void shields never finished cycling up before the fire tore them to scrap.
Nobody could survive this level of fire. Lucius and the others were already close to certain — there were two Primarchs commanding that fleet.
Even 'Fulgrim' couldn't stay seated after feeling the warship shuddering violently enough to register through the hull. He rushed out to find out what was happening.
Warship-to-warship broadside didn't produce feedback like this. Was that the Imperator Somnium or the Phalanx over there?
But looking at the dense, relentless fire and the eight Star Forts, 'Fulgrim' understood — this fight was going to be difficult.
"Signal all fleets — close to maximum speed, prepare to board."
But just as 'Fulgrim' was pulling 'Ferrus' toward the assault pods, the incoming fire dropped off considerably.
"What happened? Did they run out of ammunition?"
The traitors couldn't work it out — but the Night Lords and Raven Guard fleets were beginning to move, closing in.
"Father — it looks like they're going to board us."
'Lucius' produced an amused smile. Even 'Fulgrim' was somewhat surprised. Giving up such an overwhelming advantage to board instead?
Did they prefer close combat? Or did they share similar... preferences?
'Fulgrim' thought of 'Konrad' on his side. That madman's methods for tormenting people were considerably more severe than his own.
He'd gone off to ambush the First Legion and hadn't been heard from since. Probably got beaten again. Nobody knew if he was still intact.
"Then let my brothers come. Let's open the doors and welcome them properly!"
A deranged smile spread across 'Fulgrim's' face. He was already eager to drive his blade through his 'brothers' throats and taste them with the Gorgon.
A thin layer of viscous fluid seeped from 'Fulgrim's' body. He pressed himself tightly against 'Ferrus,' drinking in the overwhelming scent emanating from him, sinking into a particular kind of twisted fantasy.
"Father — we've reached boarding distance. Do we go now?"
Fal reported to Corvus. His view was the same as Sevatar's — if fire suppression was an option, he absolutely would not choose this risky approach.
"Yes. Konrad's already gone. He's probably already on their ships."
"That quickly?"
"Impatient type. Neither the Emperor nor the Warmaster could talk him out of anything."
"Begin the boarding assault. From the traitors' posture, they've probably anticipated what we're doing."
"Yes."
Corvus looked at the ship now very close ahead. He genuinely still couldn't work out why these brothers had turned traitor.
What had their masters given them? That they would choose this revolting betrayal over loyalty?
Had even their fleet assets and sons been provided by their masters?
He couldn't work it out — but he would have an answer soon.
Looking at the lightning claws in his hands, glowing with green arcs, something sharp and hard moved through Corvus's eyes. Then his form vanished from where he had been standing.
Having already awakened part of his fundamental nature, this kind of thing came as naturally to him as it did to Konrad.
Sevatar and Sahlen moved through the Pride of the Emperor without sound. Their fathers had already disappeared, but neither of them was particularly concerned.
After previous experiences, they understood — when their fathers wanted to disappear, no location could hold them.
So the two of them were leading a portion of the Mor Deythan through the ship, eliminating 'Iron Hands' and 'Emperor's Children' as they went.
Having been remade by the Primcast surgery, both of them had taken their particular specialities to an absolute limit.
But soon, they encountered an unexpected group of opponents.
No Slaaneshi corruption on their armour. None of those nauseating external organs or fluids. No aberrant mutations.
Morlocks Terminators.
Sevatar and his party identified them at a glance — the Terminators who had locked their weapons onto them.
Emerging from the shadows, the Mor Deythan in Tyrant Terminator plate stood considerably taller than the Morlocks.
"Santar? Is that you?"
Sevatar looked at the Terminator ahead whose dimensions were nearly comparable to his own. He could feel a familiar presence.
But 'Santar' didn't respond. He simply raised his heavy bolter and let the weapon answer Sevatar's question.
Combat erupted. Both sides in specialised Terminator plate abandoned all restraint and began exchanging heavy fire across the ship's deck.
The Iron Circles and automata hadn't boarded yet. Right now it was only Night Lords and Raven Guard Space Marines moving through this mutated Gloria Regina.
Sharogyn and Makarion had the fortunate luck of finding each other.
"Where are your brothers?"
"I'm most effective in solo assassination operations. Most of the time I'm permitted to operate independently of the squad."
"So are you coming with us now?"
"Together makes sense. There are no high-value targets in the immediate vicinity. Moving with you to disable this ship is the more efficient choice."
"Good. Let's go."
But they hadn't moved far before they stopped.
The 'Emperor's Children' ahead — the degree of mutation and degeneration was enough to produce an instinctive physical aversion at first sight.
Even the Night Lords, who had spent years conducting terror operations, couldn't tolerate the sight of this level of depravity.
These traitors were no longer recognisably human. The revolting appearance made the lightning claws in Makarion's hands want to simply tear them apart.
Bang.
Sharogyn — a man of few words and decisive action — produced a sniper rifle from his back and blew one 'Emperor's Children's' skull apart, then immediately charged toward the most revolting one in front of him, the one extending a thin purple tongue.
That one had been staring at him. Sharogyn found this profoundly unpleasant. A creature like this needed to be exterminated entirely.
"Sharogyn!"
'Lucius' had only recently become a Chaos Champion — he hadn't yet earned the title of the Eternal. For this man who had beaten him twice, he had long been eager to remove his face and mount it on his power armour.
A slender power sword came up. 'Lucius's' face bore an evil smile. Sharogyn — he was going to kill him this time.
Makarion immediately led his brothers forward, moving to engage the 'Emperor's Children' charging toward him.
'Kasoron' had targeted this fellow company captain — he wanted to capture this powerful 'cousin' personally and take his time with him.
Both sides collided furiously — but the gap showed itself in moments.
The Night Lords, better equipped and enhanced by the Primcast surgery, suppressed the 'Emperor's Children' present almost immediately. Their prescient ability had also become considerably stronger.
The technical skill the 'Emperor's Children' prided themselves on was entirely unremarkable by comparison. They were cut down one after another.
Company Captain 'Reed' charged in, attempting to hit Sharogyn from behind. Sharogyn sidestepped it in an instant, kicked 'Lucius' aside, then grabbed the traitor's arm.
Crack.
He snapped 'Reed's' arm cleanly, caught the rapier as it fell from the broken hand, drove it into 'Reed's' chest, and pushed his lightning claw through the skull from top to bottom — a sharp pull forward, and half the skull rolled across the deck like tofu.
'Kasoron,' locked in combat with Makarion, noticed this and moved to disengage and help — but Makarion seized the opening, pulled his power sword from his hip, and drove it through 'Kasoron's' chest.
The phase lightning claws left a green flash. 'Kasoron's' skull rolled free. His body dissolved into Warp energy and vanished from the deck.
"Your turn, traitor."
Makarion looked at the still-grinning 'Lucius' and spoke coldly.
Watching his side reduced to complete helplessness, 'Lucius' showed no panic whatsoever. He was already anticipating being killed — the moment of rebirth through the killer's body, the peak of sensation when their despair and his own emotions reached their climax.
But Sharogyn didn't care about his fantasy. Moving at a speed even Astartes eyes struggled to track, he crossed the distance to 'Lucius' in a moment. Lightning claws gleaming.
'Lucius' blocked by instinct with his power sword. The sword shattered into several pieces immediately. That left 'Lucius' struggling to evade Sharogyn's follow-up.
He had accumulated many wounds by now. Not that it mattered — but 'Lucius' felt something like humiliation. He considered his swordsmanship peerless, yet every so often he encountered opponents he found impossible to deal with.
Some of them were even entirely unknown figures. And somehow 'Lucius' couldn't beat them regardless.
What 'Lucius' was truly formidable in was never really his swordsmanship. It was his psychic resonance with the desires of others — that was why Slaanesh had elevated him to Chaos Champion.
But Sharogyn gave 'Lucius' a deeply wrong feeling.
'Lucius' could clearly perceive his opponents' emotional states. Defeating a renowned "strong" opponent always produced emotional turbulence in the victor — and as long as that turbulence existed, in any form whatsoever, 'Lucius' could exploit it to resurrect from within the killer's body.
But this one was different. This was already the third time. Even before 'Lucius' became a Chaos Champion, the 'Sharogyn' from that side had beaten him twice in a row. By the second time, he had already noticed something wrong with this person.
Why didn't he feel any emotional response at all? Wasn't a warrior supposed to feel some sense of honour from killing an enemy?
"Why?"
'Lucius' formed the question, but Sharogyn gave him no time to voice it. Lightning claws were already through his chest.
The claws dragged through in a single motion. 'Lucius's' right shoulder and part of his face separated from the rest of him in an instant.
"Why don't you have any emotional response at all?"
Sharogyn didn't answer. He raised one large boot and stamped 'Lucius's' head into nothing, removing him from the material universe.
"Because killing a stray dog by the roadside won't cause me any emotional response."
Makarion and the others finished off the remaining traitors.
"Shall we continue, brother?"
"Yes."
Sevatar looked at 'Santar,' severed into two pieces and lying on the deck. That face beneath the helmet — almost entirely uncorrupted — left his mood somewhat complicated.