Chapter 128 - The Knight-Commander's Fanatical Dream
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"Knight-Commander, the Lion has truly returned."
Aboard the Thousand Eyes Warband's flagship Blade of Truth, Bela delivered the report to Seraphax.
Silence.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three breaths.
Bela raised his eyes and saw something he had never witnessed in his entire life.
For the first time, Bela saw his Knight-Commander smile.
A real smile. One that came from somewhere deep. The kind of expression that only surfaces when a person recalls a warmth they had nearly forgotten existed.
It started at the faintest curve of Seraphax's lips, then spread slowly across his entire face, including that half of his face. That half was an unquenchable blaze, and the flames rose with his mood, shifting from their usual suppressed dark red to bright yellow, then climbing further to a near-white incandescence that lit the entire throne dais.
"Wonderful."
He savored the word like the finish of some rare vintage, rolling it over once, then spoke it again, higher, brighter, with something almost childlike in his delight.
"Wonderful."
"Who else is worthy of an audience with the Emperor of Mankind upon the Golden Throne? I once considered a hero of the Imperium. Perhaps some Chapter Master."
"But now, Bela."
When he spoke that name, his tone softened.
Not the way a commander addresses a subordinate. The way a man shares a precious discovery with a friend.
That, somehow, unsettled Bela more than anything else.
"I have a better choice now. A perfect choice. One that cannot be refused, obstructed, or questioned. No one is more qualified to stand before the Emperor of Mankind than a Gene-Sire — and not just any Gene-Sire. Ours."
"You mean to..."
Bela opened his mouth. He heard his own voice, but it didn't feel like his.
Because the moment those words left him, something he had long kept buried in the deepest part of himself finally broke through.
Fear. It surfaced all at once, spreading like a poisonous vine.
But Seraphax only grinned.
The grin stretched and warped across the burning half of his face, managing to look both warm and dreadful at once.
He spoke slowly, the way a man explains something simple yet immeasurably vast to a child.
"Yes. As you suspect, I will borrow the body of our Gene-Sire and journey to the Golden Throne."
"I will not kill him. He is my Gene-Sire. The root of my existence in this world. How could I possibly kill him?"
Seraphax's tone was almost tender.
"I will leave him a portion of his soul. Enough for him to perceive what he is doing. Enough for him to witness, from the deepest layer of his consciousness, the great work I will accomplish using his body. He should be proud. His son, I will achieve a greatness that even he himself never attained."
"Bela, listen to me."
Seraphax reached out and lifted Bela's chin. His tone was calm.
But Bela saw what lived in the Knight-Commander's eyes. A fervor so intense it was almost tangible, no less consuming than the most devout servants of the Imperial Cult.
What truly sent ice down Bela's spine was not the fervor's intensity.
It was that the fervor and the calm existed together.
This man had not been devoured by the Warp. He had not lost himself in the powers of destruction. He was lucidly mad. Rationally fanatical.
"The galaxy is torn asunder." Seraphax released his grip, stepped back, and spread his arms wide. His voice rang through the empty bridge.
"The Imperium of Man has become a hollow shell. Everything we once took pride in — the glory of the Great Crusade, the Imperium's domain, the unity of mankind — none of it remains. Abaddon's legions drag the galaxy into endless war. Every day, new worlds fall. Every day, new xenos build their nests upon the Imperium's ruins.
"The flame of humanity gutters. This species that once created countless miracles, this species the Emperor of Mankind spent a lifetime protecting, this species we swore allegiance to, it will be lost. Like a candle in a storm: flickering, dimming, then gone."
His voice broke on that last line. Just slightly. Just enough.
It was the sorrow of an old soldier watching everything he had spent his life fighting for collapse into ruin.
"The xenos and the darkness are surging back. The things we drove out with our own hands, the things that nearly exterminated humanity in the Age of Strife, they are reclaiming their lost ground, inch by inch."
"Think on it, Bela." His voice dropped. "What a great era we came from. The Emperor of Mankind Himself walked at the very front, leading us to drive out the darkness, to beat back the xenos."
"We crossed the star-sea under His banner and dragged humanity back from the edge of extinction. He was father to us all. The hope of mankind. The only being in the galaxy worthy of being called a god, and the only one who refused to become one."
He paused. As if the weight of that truth alone was enough to stop time.
"Now He is imprisoned upon that accursed Golden Throne. Not willingly. Not peacefully. Forced to sit upon a device that is equal parts life-support and eternal cage."
"I must admit, I carry the blessings of the powers of destruction. They tried to shatter my will. To reduce me to a screaming, mindless wreck."
"But I did not let them. I use them. Pragmatically. To execute my plan. They believe they are the masters. They believe I am their slave." A pause. "No. They are tools. Nothing more. Tools to accomplish something greater."
"My plan."
He turned to face Bela. Flame and shadow crossed his face, and what lived there now was a devotion beyond any word Bela had for it.
The devotion of a man who believes, with absolute certainty, that he will become the creator of a god. Vaster than faith. Madder than conviction. Unshakable.
"To make the Emperor of Mankind stand once more."
"Not to save Him." Seraphax continued. "Not to heal Him."
"But to kill Him."
Those two words hit Bela's ears like red-hot iron. He wanted to step back. His feet wouldn't move.
"Kill Him." Seraphax repeated it slowly, tasting every implication the words contained. "Only by killing Him can He be reborn in the Warp as a god, not as a mortal."
"His soul will be released. Freed from a shell that has rotted for ten thousand years. It will re-coalesce in the Sea of Souls, complete, pure, whole. Then He will ascend to the pinnacle of the Warp. The one true god of mankind. The embodiment of order. The final judge of all reason and civilization in the galaxy."
His speech accelerated. His pitch climbed. The flames on his half-face surged in answer, leaping from bright yellow to incandescent white, then beyond white to something near-blue and searing, impossible to look at directly.
"He will destroy the powers of destruction! He will make the xenos gods who have mocked humanity for ten thousand years wail in agony! Those nameless, indescribable things that spy on us from the Sea of Souls will taste fear for the first time. They will grovel before the god of mankind, begging for a mercy they will never receive."
"Then He will guide us, guide all of humanity, to launch a second Great Crusade. Not for conquest. Not for glory. For purification. To cleanse every contaminated inch of the galaxy. To erase the mark of Chaos from the very foundations of existence."
At the thought of it, Seraphax wept. Two streams of tears ran down his face, as if the grand vision he had painted moved even him beyond control.
And Bela stood where he was.
His heart was pounding so hard he could almost hear the blood crashing against his eardrums.
He felt fear. Fear of madness. The kind more terrible than death.
He was half-skeptical, half-believing, unable to judge whether this insane vision held any theoretical possibility at all.
"But the other Gene-Sires..." Bela finally found his voice. It came out drier than usual, but he pushed through. "If they intervene..."
"Ah."
Seraphax let out a light, almost pleasant sound, like a man reminded of something mildly amusing.
"For them to find us, they would first have to wait until our battle with the Lion is finished. By the time they react, I will have already won."
"By then, I will have possessed the body of our Gene-Sire."
He chuckled softly at that.
"To see the other Gene-Sires once more, even as enemies, would still be a glimpse of the Great Crusade's fading glory. Let them come to stop me. Let them come to curse me. I don't care. When the Emperor of Mankind becomes a god, when they watch with their own eyes as He stands again, they will understand. They will thank me."
"Even Horus Lupercal. Hahaha."
The Knight-Commander's laughter did not move Bela.
It confirmed something instead.
His old leader had gone mad.
"Bela, send a message to the Lion."
Seraphax reined in his laughter and looked at his subordinate.
"I will await him on Sable."
➤ Next: The Firing Command of the Ordinatus Engines
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