Horus remained seated on his throne of adamantium and obsidian.
Everyone's eyes were glued to the massive, 3.9-meter-tall Primarch.
Horus finally spoke.
His voice was deep, carrying the absolute authority expected of the Warmaster, but also laced with an undeniable, calming sense of peace.
"I have no immediate plans to deploy forces."
Abaddon's brow furrowed.
Aximand couldn't hide the obvious disappointment on his face.
But Horus continued, his amber eyes sweeping over his two most trusted sons.
"The primary directive of the Great Crusade is diplomacy first."
"That is the rule laid down by my Father's own words."
"Any human world, so long as they are willing to submit to the Imperium, must be given the chance to do so peacefully."
Abaddon opened his mouth to object, but meeting the calm, unyielding gaze of his father, he eventually snapped his jaw shut.
Aximand's fists clenched tight, then slowly released.
Horus's gaze drifted past them, settling on the figure standing toward the back.
Hastur Sejanus.
Captain of the 4th Company.
And Tarik Torgaddon.
The entire Mournival was present.
Horus's eyes rested on Sejanus for two solid seconds.
"Sejanus."
Sejanus stepped forward, slamming his right fist against his breastplate. The metallic crash echoed through the command deck.
"Father."
Horus looked down at him, a deep sense of trust reflecting in his amber eyes.
"Tomorrow, you will lead a diplomatic envoy comprised of your finest Honor Guard down to the surface of this planet to open negotiations."
"Demand that they relinquish their usurped titles and submit to the Imperium."
"In exchange, the Imperium of Man will grant them equal rights."
Sejanus looked up, meeting his father's eyes.
He didn't ask why me?
He simply nodded, his handsome face displaying its usual, unshakable calm.
"Understood, Father."
He didn't speak loudly, but the sheer, unwavering conviction in his voice resonated with everyone in the room.
Across the command center, the Imperial officials collectively let out a massive sigh of relief.
Diplomacy first.
Peaceful resolution.
This was the true magnanimity expected of the Warmaster.
No one else spoke up to argue.
Because within the Luna Wolves, the Warmaster's word was absolute law.
Sejanus turned and walked away.
He had to select the members of his Honor Guard.
He had to descend to that planet.
He had to stand face-to-face with the traitor who dared call himself the Emperor.
And behind him, Abaddon's eyes remained locked on his back until Sejanus completely disappeared through the bridge doors.
[Regional Channel (Light of the Emperor)]
[I Will Make the Gods Witness the Apocalypse] watched it all unfold and typed a quick message into the chat.
"It's playing out exactly like the lore."
"Horus rejected Abaddon and Little Horus's push for war, and he's sending Sejanus down to negotiate."
"He really is the perfect loyal son."
"Even after the Emperor issued the Edict of Nikaea completely banning psykers..."
"...and even after the Emperor mandated that the Legions had to answer to the Council of Terra, essentially stripping the Warmaster of his supreme authority..."
"...he's still strictly adhering to the Emperor's rules of engagement for the Great Crusade."
[The Emperor's Will is Unstoppable] fired back:
"The Emperor: Horus, you are my most trusted son."
"Horus: I know, Father."
"The Emperor: That is why I am giving you the title of Warmaster."
"Horus: I understand, Father."
"The Emperor: And then I'm going to severely undermine your political authority."
"Horus: ...Father?"
[Loken Did Not Betray the Luna Wolves] chimed in:
"The Emperor: Don't misunderstand me, I still trust you completely."
"Horus: Then why?"
"The Emperor: Because I also trust Malcador."
"Horus: ..."
[I Don't Eat Bear Biscuits]:
"Wait, so was Horus actually stripped of his power?"
[The Emperor's Will is Unstoppable]:
"Not completely stripped, just... 'checked and balanced'."
"Look, the Emperor is great and all, but the guy is a terrible father."
[Loken Did Not Betray the Luna Wolves]:
"Terrible father?"
"The guy doesn't even know how to be human."
A wall of "+1" flooded the channel.
[Thirty Years a Centaur Gold Ring]:
"And that, gentlemen, is Warhammer in a nutshell."
"The tragedies are inevitable. All we can do is try to make those tragedies suck slightly less."
[I Don't Eat Bear Biscuits]:
"Wow, getting philosophical on us."
A ripple of quiet laughter echoed through the chat.
When the laughter died down, [I Want to be the Imperial Regent] spoke up again.
"Lone Wolf, it's all on you now."
His tone was dead serious.
"You're the only Imperial player who managed to build up a genuine friendship with Sejanus. You should be able to tag along with his envoy."
"I'm personally sponsoring you with 10,000 Imperial Coins."
"I hope you do everything in your power to make sure Sejanus walks out of there alive."
The channel went quiet for a second.
Then, a new message popped up.
[Undying Silver Lone Wolf]: "Thanks."
"After that last battle, Sejanus spent a ton of resources training me, and he even pulled strings to get me qualified for gene-seed ascension."
"He literally treats me like a younger brother right now."
"So he's my brother."
"I will fight tooth and nail to make sure he lives!"
"Even if it costs me every single Imperial Coin I have."
"I swear it!"
The channel immediately blew up with support.
[The Emperor's Will is Unstoppable]: "I got your back! Let's go, Lone Wolf!"
[Loken Did Not Betray the Luna Wolves]: "With your CQC skills, combat instincts, and your body maxed out to the point where you're practically half-Astartes anyway, you can definitely pull this off!"
[Thirty Years a Centaur Gold Ring]: "I'm sending you a thousand! Buy whatever weapons and gear you need! Just get it done!"
[I Don't Eat Bear Biscuits]: "Let's fucking go!"
[I Will Make the Gods Witness the Apocalypse]: "Good luck, Lone Wolf!"
Dozens of other players immediately started throwing in their support.
Some sent a few hundred, others sent three or four thousand.
–
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, in a small private cabin.
The room was cramped, and the furnishings were spartan to the point of being primitive.
A metal cot, a basic locker, and a set of workout equipment.
The overhead lumen globes cast a cold, sterile white light.
Right now, a shirtless man was doing pull-ups on a metal bar.
His muscles looked like they were forged from solid iron—blocky, perfectly defined, and hard as rock.
Sweat poured down the chiseled lines of his back, gleaming under the harsh lights.
His arms bent and straightened with terrifyingly smooth precision, as if his massive frame weighed no more than a feather.
"10,083."
"10,084."
"10,085."
"10,086."
As he squeezed the final number out of his throat, he slowly uncurled his grip and dropped straight to the deck.
His bare feet slapped against the cold metal grating with a muffled thud.
He stood perfectly still, letting the sweat drip from his body, and closed his eyes.
Inside his UI interface, a relentless stream of messages was still pouring in.
I got your back! Let's go, Lone Wolf!
I'm sending you a thousand! Buy whatever weapons and gear you need!
Just get it done!
Let's fucking go!
Good luck, Lone Wolf!
[Undying Silver Lone Wolf] raised his hand, staring at the endless stream of incoming credit transfers flooding his UI.
Ten thousand. One thousand. Eight hundred. Five hundred...
The numbers rapidly tallied up in front of his eyes, eventually pooling into a total sum that even surprised him.
[Undying Silver Lone Wolf] opened his eyes.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled into a smile.
It was a smile filled with genuine warmth.
But that warmth quickly faded away, replaced by something much darker.
A feral, predatory intensity.
His eyes caught the cold light of the cabin, flashing like a silver wolf locking onto its prey.
He opened his mouth, his voice low, gravelly, and dripping with absolute resolve.
"The plot of the Four Gods..."
"Let's see if your script is really written in stone."