A month later.
On the bridge of the Fist of Iron.
Ferrus stood in front of the massive observation viewport, staring at the Pride of the Emperor floating off in the distance.
His necrodermis-coated iron hands shimmered with a flowing silver luster under the bridge's lights.
His face was completely devoid of expression.
But inside, an incredibly tangled mess of emotions was churning away.
His mind kept looping everything he had observed over the past three months.
Those bizarre smiles, those unsettling looks, those...
Ferrus closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, only one thing remained in those cold, steel-hard eyes.
Doubt.
An overwhelming, suffocating sense of doubt.
Memories surfaced in his mind; he vividly remembered the exact day the Carollis Campaign had officially ended.
That purple silhouette slowly appeared on the boarding ramp of his bridge.
Fulgrim.
He had changed into a pristine suit of ceremonial power armor, the purple plating gleaming gorgeously under the lights. His long white hair cascaded neatly over his shoulders, and that flawless face wore its usual, radiant smile.
Ferrus turned to look at him.
The eyes of the two Primarchs met in the air.
Fulgrim spread his arms wide, striding toward him. "Ferrus! My brother!"
His voice boomed, carrying an irrepressible excitement.
"This victory was absolute perfection! The Diasporex Alliance has been utterly annihilated, we've commandeered their flagship, and we've taken their captain's head! The glory of the Imperium of Man shines over this sector once more!"
Ferrus watched him.
He looked at that perfect smile on his face. He listened to the absolute perfection of his phrasing.
Everything was perfect.
But Ferrus couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.
He spoke slowly, his voice as cold and hard as iron. "Fulgrim, are your warriors faring well?"
Fulgrim's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second.
But it was only an instant. A second later, that flawless smile was back.
"Of course! The Emperor's Children never shy away from sacrifice! The names of those who laid down their lives for the Imperium shall be forever engraved upon the monument of glory!"
Ferrus nodded.
He didn't press the issue. He knew this wasn't the time or the place.
But deep in his heart, the suffocating doubt had reached its absolute peak.
Meanwhile, inside Fulgrim's mind...
The whispers were still going strong.
Look at him...
Ferrus is questioning you...
He's doubting your competence...
He doesn't believe in you...
He doesn't deserve to be your brother...
Fulgrim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, nothing remained in those eyes but a vibrant magenta glow.
–
Three full months passed.
The 28th and 52nd Expeditionary Fleets finished their final resupply and downtime operations in the Carollis system.
Above Carollis Prime, the two massive armadas slowly began to separate.
Standing on the bridge of the Fist of Iron, Ferrus watched the Pride of the Emperor drift further and further away. Only one thought echoed in his mind...
My brother... what the hell is wrong with you?
Behind him, Gabriel Santar stood in complete silence.
He wasn't fully healed yet; the bolter wound on his chest still throbbed with a dull ache. But what hurt more than the physical injury was that lingering, inescapable feeling... that something was completely off.
"Father." Gabriel stepped up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Ferrus. "Are we... really just leaving it at this? Lord Fulgrim is acting incredibly strange. His behavior on the Tear of the Diasporex was nothing like the man we knew at Ullanor."
Ferrus stayed quiet for a long time.
Then, he finally spoke. His voice was gravelly.
"The Crusade isn't over yet. We are warriors, not investigators. Once this Crusade is finished, I'll have all the time in the world to get to the bottom of my suspicions. There's no rush. Once we complete our current directives, I promise I will uncover exactly what Fulgrim went through. And I will help him find himself again."
Gabriel looked at his father's grim face, catching the tangled emotions swirling in those eyes.
He decided to leave it at that. He just stood silently by his father's side, watching the purple flagship slowly disappear into the endless sea of stars.
The two fleets charted courses for completely different ends of the void.
The silver-gray armada of the Iron Hands fired up their thrusters, accelerating toward the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy. New missions and warzones awaited them there.
Meanwhile, the purple and gold fleet of the Emperor's Children banked slowly toward the western borders of the Imperium's Ultima Segmentum.
--
Aboard the Pride of the Emperor, in the Heliopolis.
Fulgrim stood before the massive observation viewport, watching the distant silver-gray fleet fade into the black.
His right hand rested on the pommel of the Blade of the Laer strapped to his hip. The curved sword vibrated gently in its scabbard, letting slivers of magenta light dance across his fingertips.
In his mind, that voice echoed once again.
Soft, seductive, like a lover whispering sweet nothings into his ear...
Do you see it now?
Ferrus completely fails to understand you.
In these past three months, he hasn't uttered a single word of gratitude.
You gave it your all. You sacrificed so many of the Emperor's Children to hand him this flawless victory.
He saw everything you did, yet he remains entirely unmoved.
Ferrus Manus looks down on you.
He thinks parking that junk-heap of a ship in front of you was doing you a favor?
No... it was an insult.
Who are you?
You are the Primarch of Perfection. As if you'd ever perish under such mundane firepower.
He thinks sending his sons to board the flagship was a way of supporting you?
No... it was a blatant attempt to hijack your glory and steal your achievements.
It is all his fault.
He is the reason you were denied that perfect victory.
He is the reason your own son stole what rightfully belonged to you.
Fulgrim closed his eyes.
A flicker of... struggle... washed over his flawless face.
But it faded away just as quickly as it appeared. It was replaced by a chillingly calm sense of... acceptance.
"Yes," he murmured, his voice laced with an incredibly eerie tenderness. "It's all Ferrus's fault."
He opened his eyes, staring out the viewport at the empty space where the Iron Hands fleet used to be. His violet eyes were completely swallowed by that toxic magenta glow.
"And... Demeter..." His tone suddenly turned freezing cold. "You are no different."
The whispers continued to murmur in his ear.
Go find Horus...
Warmaster Horus...
He will recognize your perfection...
He will understand your ambitions...
He is your true brother...
The corners of Fulgrim's mouth curved upward.
That smile looked incredibly... grotesque on his otherwise perfect face.
--
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