"What the hell do you mean? Retreat and run?"
Lion grabbed Dorn by the cuirass, his immense strength lifting Dorn clean off the ground.
"We've committed the men, we've stirred up the Warp storms, and we've taken massive losses. We are on the verge of charging into Terra to seize the False Emperor, and now you're telling me you want to retreat?"
Lion shoved Dorn against the alloy steel plating, drawing his chainsword and pressing it directly against Dorn's throat.
"Do you have any idea how much we lost for this war? How long has it even been? You're telling me we've already failed and need to retreat back to the main universe immediately?"
"Do you think I'm playing house with you? Did we spend all this just to accompany you in some grand play of rebellion?"
Dorn ignored Lion's attitude. It was a natural reaction; after all, they weren't playing around. To lose so much only to end up with this kind of conclusion was indeed humiliating to the extreme, but there was no other choice.
Gently pushing aside the chainsword at his throat, Dorn began to explain.
"Don't get agitated. I know you're anxious, but just listen for a moment."
"We've already lost this fight. Perturabo has returned, and the fleets they've deployed lately are so numerous that even if we launched an all-out strike, we likely couldn't win."
"There is no point in continuing this war. It's better for us to return to the main universe first, build up our strength, and then launch another offensive. Wouldn't that be better?"
"With you, me, and Roboute working together, we won't have to fear Perturabo even if he upgrades his Abominable Intelligence again."
Lion didn't believe Dorn this time. This fellow was exactly as he suspected—trying to pull a fast one behind his back.
"Is this why you've been secretly colluding with Roboute? I bet that even at the end of this war, you two would take out me and Horus just so you could enjoy the fruits of victory yourselves."
The chainsword pressed against Dorn's neck again. Dorn didn't argue; scheming and plotting were par for the course among their lot.
"Even Roboute isn't confident he can win this war and wants to retreat. Do you think the two of us joining forces would change that?"
"So what? The Emperor could never be our match!"
"Don't forget, there's still Perturabo."
"Even with him, it's impossible!"
Lion slowly released Dorn. The two fell into silence.
"Are we really going to retreat like cowards?"
After a long while, Lion spoke, his voice heavy with resentment.
"We have no choice. Ever since Perturabo returned from the Eye of Terror, Roboute has been uneasy. A few days ago, Russ was banished by the Magnus of this side. And the brothers who were banished before—they didn't come back this time."
"At least for the short term, they don't have the ability to manifest in the material universe. Even Angron hasn't appeared. If we keep this up, Perturabo will find us sooner or later."
"It's better to head back now. The Solar Segmentum is already ruined anyway. No matter how capable Perturabo is, he can't bring a dead zone back to life."
"We go back, regroup, and then you, I, and Roboute will attack on three fronts. They won't be able to hold!"
"We're constantly being blocked here anyway. Better to leave now. No matter how strong Perturabo is, he can't handle three directions at once. That is when we will seize the Emperor."
Silence fell between them once more. Lion truly didn't want this. He had emptied his coffers to charge in here, only to tuck tail and run. His pride made it hard to swallow.
"Withdraw tomorrow then. We have some 'sacrifices'—we'll throw a few more in before we leave. Just remember to keep in touch so we can attack together."
"That fast?"
"Are you going to wait until Perturabo knocks on your door to tell him you're leaving and ask for a little more time?"
"Tomorrow it is. What about the other Legions—?"
"You're still counting on them?"
"Besides, it's not like we don't have them on our side. We'll just let them conduct their own conscription when the time comes. They're all just fodder anyway."
Neither of them mentioned what would happen to Horus and the others.
They were running, and someone had to keep the Empire's attention. Since they were all fodder used to fill the trenches anyway, they might as well be used as a rearguard.
Besides, that kid Abaddon is still blustering. Since Horus isn't managing things, let the kid take the heat.
Honestly, it was the first time either of them had seen a fool with that much ego and that little sense.
He's already in a Dreadnought and he's still shouting about charging into Terra. If anything happens to Horus, there's no telling how badly that boy will ruin the Legion.
But that was fine; it made them easier to control. The current Luna Wolves Legion was essentially their lapdog—ready to come and go at their beck and call.
"And what about Mortarion'?" He and his Legion are like mutes, and that Typhon' is being shifty right now, constantly closing in on our position. Should we shove him to the front lines along with Horus', or just send him away entirely?"
Lion' was somewhat reluctant to part with this "giant infant." After all, the lad was truly obedient. Although Horus' had a massive influence over him, during their time together, Lion's' opinion of this younger brother had improved significantly.
He would save him if he could, but if it wasn't meant to be, he wouldn't force it.
"Send him out. With Mortarion's' personality, he might hold out even longer than Horus'. Drag it out as long as possible; the ritual needs time."
"How many 'sacrifices' have you gathered now? We have to wait until at least tomorrow."
"So, you and Roboute' conspired from the very beginning?"
Dorn' didn't answer; he simply continued talking to himself about the preparations needed for the ritual.
The rift had been there from the start, it was just more severe now. The Empire's strength had forced them to join hands, but even so, the traitors remained a disorganized mess.
Otherwise, a Great Rebellion of this scale wouldn't have only caused damage in the Solar Segmentum. In the end, while they had cut off the Empire's communications and left it divided, they themselves had barely communicated at all.
Aside from that unpleasant meeting at the very beginning, they hadn't even held a single proper war council up to this point.
To say they harbored ulterior motives was an understatement. They were a pack of degenerates—the druggies were on drugs, the lunatics were being lunatics—and after falling to Chaos, the Legions couldn't even exert eighty percent of their normal combat power.
Lion' didn't expect them to play much of a role on the front lines at all.
"Have you become like this? You can't even speak a human sentence clearly."
Mortarion held Silence, forcing Khan' into a corner.
The stench of a Nurgle-blessed ship was indescribable. Mortarion could even feel that the deck beneath his feet was a mass of something beyond words.
The White Scars' were nothing like the swift and agile warriors in his memory. They had become heavy and sluggish; aside from being harder to kill, they had hardly changed at all.
"To let yourself fall into such a state... it seems you were screwed over hard by your own sons."
Mortarion thought of what Typhon had said, and the shadow of Yesugei' that had appeared then. There was no doubt this brother had been betrayed by his own progeny.
The great scythe and the heavy saber slammed together. Mortarion could clearly feel the immense force vibrating through the scythe; the raw, monstrous strength made his hands feel numb.
But Mortarion was different now. The scythe slowly bore down on the mutated, unrecognizable White Tiger Dao. Khan' was forced back step by step, maggots shaking loose from the gaps in the armor that had fused with his flesh.
With every step Mortarion forced Khan' back, the slimy sensation beneath his feet felt strangely familiar.
The Barbarus of old had tempered the Mortarion of today. The thick miasma and toxic sludge of the mountaintops allowed him to adapt even in this environment.
"Your master probably didn't tell you—after all, you no longer have a brain."
Mortarion swept the scythe across Khan's' chest. Maggots and pus oozed out as the thickening plague and various diseases spread even faster across the ship.
But then, Khan' noticed that several Abominable Intelligences had already fought their way here.
Their bodies were completely untouched by the corruption of Chaos. They radiated a blue fluorescence, and the multi-meltas and plasmas in their hands poured fire upon him without pause.
"War is never a solo effort. Especially now—we aren't so-called demigods, brother."
Mortarion drew the Gauss rifle from his hip, firing continuously at Khan'.
Originally, he hadn't planned on replacing the bolter he had seized from his xenos foster-father, but in extraordinary times, such rules had to be broken.
Now, the weapons Perturabo had personally forged for his brothers were showing their might. Mortarion had to admit, this custom-made Gauss rifle was indeed immensely powerful.
If nothing else, even a Primarch was being riddled with holes.
It was only because Khan' had joined Nurgle, granting him immense vitality and dulled senses, that he was able to endure the meltas and plasma fire while taking so many of Mortarion's shots without dying. Mortarion estimated that if their positions were reversed, he would likely be dead by now.
"We are no longer invincible. These Abominable Intelligences are the best example; once their numbers reach a certain point, even we can be taken down easily."
"I used to think it would take at least four thousand of them, but my sons told me it would only take a thousand. After working with them, I realized it only takes five hundred of these Iron Circles to pin us to the ground."
Mortarion looked at Khan', who was now reduced to a tattered half of an upper body, and leveled the Gauss rifle at his head.
"And of this Legion of Abominable Intelligence, my Legion alone has four hundred thousand. You would be completely strangled and slaughtered before you even reached the surface of a planet."
"Actually, I didn't have to come. But I thought I should see you one last time. I wanted to know why the brother who once only wanted to follow the wind and his freedom turned into... this."
"But the moment I truly saw you, I understood. The reasons for your betrayal no longer matter. You are beyond saving, brother, and I will grant you release."
With that, Mortarion fired, completely dissolving Khan's' head.
He then turned to leave, as the Iron Circles began using their meltas to clean up the remains.
These ships were unsalvageable. They never could have gotten close to the Death Guard's fleet anyway; Mortarion had arrived on other craft to perform the boarding action alongside the Abominable Intelligences.
He hadn't brought any of his sons. This was his own choice; these tainted ships were abnormal, and bringing his progeny along for the boarding would have been an unwise decision.
"Father, are you alright?"
Garro breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Mortarion disembark from the Stormbird unscathed.
"I am fine. Once the Abominable Intelligence Legion confirms those traitors are dead, begin destroying those fleets. Such blasphemous things should not exist in this world."
"Understood."
"What is going on? Why does it feel like the number of traitors has dropped so sharply lately? Any news from the other Primarchs?"
Perturabo turned to ask Dantioch.
"No, sir. The other Lords haven't encountered many traitors recently either. Aside from some enemy fleets at the start, they have almost completely vanished by now."
"What about the Grey Knights and the Blackshields?"
"Nothing there, either. They've searched nearly the entire Solar Segmentum and still can't find any sign of them."
"Strange. What kind of underhanded trick are those bastards planning now?"
Perturabo felt certain they were concentrating their forces for a massive strike; it hadn't even crossed his mind that they might have already begun their withdrawal.
"And Deathwatch? Have them stay alert for those damn xenos to prevent them from causing trouble while the Empire is in turmoil. How is their workload?"
"Not heavy. Most of them are being suppressed by the Deathwatch the moment they pop their heads out."
"Where could those traitors have gone? I can hardly find a trace of them even in the Warp. It's truly rare for someone to escape my tracking within the Immaterium."
Perturabo was genuinely shocked this time. No matter how strong those traitors were, they shouldn't have been able to vanish without leaving a single shred of evidence.
Now, never mind the Warp—it's difficult enough finding them in the material universe. There is no telling where they've gone to hide.
"I am not sure, Father. I suspect they may have splintered their forces and hidden themselves across various sectors and systems throughout the Segmentums, though the probability of that seems low."
Dantioch was at a loss; tracking people wasn't his specialty.
But just as the two reached a deadlock, a message from Russ came through the logic engine, which had partially restored communications.
"Brother, I think I've discovered something incredible."
"Oh? Russ, have you found them?"
"No, but I think you need to come and see this. Perhaps you know what it is."
A high-definition image was transmitted through the logic engine. It showed an entire star system turned into a wasteland, with massive runes visible across its expanse.
"Wait for me. I'm coming over."
"Damn it, the bastards fled!"
Perturabo smashed his fist into the control panel, his face twisting with rage.
Burning with fury, a dense black fire erupted from his body, forcing his progeny and the Wolf King behind him to take several steps back.
"Warmaster? Where could these traitors have gone?"
Russ asked, steadying his mind.
"They used sacrifices. They sacrificed the humans of our realm and their own progeny to return to their main universe through the temporal dimensions of the Warp."
"Those pieces of filth... they caused all this chaos here and then just ran! They even used small fry who aren't even worthy of being called enemies to mask their movements!"
"So, what do we do now?"
"Go to Ultramar in the Ultima Segmentum immediately. See if 'Roboute' is still there."
"No need to come over; there's no one left here. Even the Five Hundred Worlds have become a dead zone. Before he left, he transferred the entire population, leaving behind only my Legion, your Abominable Intelligence Legions, and your hidden reserves."
A communication suddenly came through the logic engine. It was Guilliman's voice.
His voice was laced with exhaustion, tinged with a hint of regret and self-reproach.
"Can you make it to Terra?"
"I can."
"Then return so we can discuss this in detail. Once I find all our brothers, I will have everyone return immediately."
"Understood."
Guilliman cut the link. Perturabo pulled back the black flames, forcing down the fire rising within his heart.
"What is our move now, Warmaster?"
"Clean up this mess, then find those bastards and go get our revenge!"
"Revenge?"
"If they can come here, why can't we go there? Since when can you smash up someone else's place and return home unscathed?"
"Those bastards must pay for what they've done!"
"I will show them the true meaning of the Empire's wrath. The playtime is over. Return to Terra and muster the Legions."
"I'm going to use Titans to crush those bastards into the dirt. Not a single one of these traitors is getting away!"
A ruthless glint flickered in Perturabo's eyes.
Did they think this place was a charity? Coming and going as they pleased—it wouldn't be that easy!