Warhammer 40K: System Error, I Summoned the Arch-Traitor!

~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!

In the original Plague of the God, Guilliman interrogated the daemonhost to extract intelligence on Mortarion and the creation of the Godblight.

Karen already knew the plot. He'd passed that intelligence to the Regent of the Imperium in advance, and Guilliman had been very pleased.

But Karen still proposed they conduct the interrogation.

Not for the information he'd already shared, for what might lie beyond it. New details. Confirmation that the situation hadn't shifted. Because Karen couldn't be certain that the Plague Lord Nurgle hadn't adjusted his plans in response to the primarchs' return.

The group made their way to the chamber where the daemonhost was being held.

A Grey Knight brotherhood stood watch alongside an Ultramarines Librarian conclave, both monitoring the prisoner. But Guilliman also mentioned, almost as an aside, that one more person was present, the former Ultramarines Second Company Captain Karen had told him about.

Demetrian Titus.

If the Grey Knights and the Librarians couldn't contain the daemonhost, Titus would end it.

"As you said, Karen — this son of mine possesses an extraordinarily powerful anti-psychic talent." Guilliman's tone was measured, almost clinical. "The Librarians ran their research and experiments on him and confirmed it. I've reinstated him as Captain of the Second Company."

"Master of the Watch of Ultramar," Karen said.

Guilliman nodded.

"His abilities are exceptional. A rare talent among all my sons. I believe he'll create even more miracles."

Well, obviously.

In Warhammer, there were Chosen of the Emperor, Chosen of Khorne, Chosen of this and that, and none of them could hold a candle to the Hayek-chosen Titus.

Karen kept that thought exactly where it belonged: behind his teeth.

Though, to be fair, the label wasn't quite right. Titus was almost certainly a hidden Chosen of the Emperor. There was no other rational explanation for his absurd resistance to Warp corruption.

"I do recall there's still an accusation on record against him," Karen said. "Inquisitorial. And the one who filed it was a Chaplain from your own Chapter, my lord."

"Trust my authority to handle it. The privileges of the Regent — I detest them, but they have their uses when it matters." Guilliman paused. "As for that Chaplain... he wasn't wrong. He was simply too rigid. I'm not pursuing charges against him."

Guilliman shook his head, something like quiet admiration crossing his face.

"Fearless. Dutiful to the letter. He reminds me of a Terran-born son who rejoined the Legion during the Great Crusade era — one of my own equerries: Marius Gage."

Talking like this, the group arrived at their destination.

The moment they stepped inside, the cold hit them like a wall.

The daemonhost was sealed within an iris containment pod, but the cold wasn't from temperature. It was the malice saturating the air, the weight of a suffering soul pressed into every corner of the room. Felix shivered before he could stop himself.

The Grey Knight brotherhood, the Librarian conclave, and Titus all turned and offered their salutes as Guilliman and Karen entered.

Karen took a few seconds to look Titus over. The man was a legend by any reasonable measure. But standing in the same room as a gene-primarch, his personal protagonist aura had... dimmed somewhat.

That's what happens when you raise the baseline.

"Can we begin?"

"No. We're waiting for one more."

Guilliman had barely finished the sentence when the new arrival appeared, not a mortal, not a Space Marine. An Aeldari Farseer.

Her name was Illiyan Nastase, emissary of Guilliman's ally Eldrad Ulthran, the Old Farseer.

"Good day, Lord Guilliman, and..." Her gaze settled on Karen for two full seconds. "The audience beneath the stage."

The corner of Karen's mouth twitched in acknowledgment. He didn't bother picking at the title.

The Farseer skipped the formalities.

"I have read the threads of fate, Lord Guilliman. The daemon will answer you, but be warned. What dwells inside this man is a fragment of the Great Changer. Whatever it speaks may be truth. It may be falsehood."

She paused.

"That said, I see no curse, no corruption, no madness descending upon you. The threads of fate woven by Tzeentch are tangled beyond clean reading. The answers you seek will not be precise."

"I've already learned certain things, Farseer," Guilliman said. "I only want to pry more useful information from this daemon's mouth."

"Then since you have made your choice, I shall lend you my aid."

Illiyan bowed, graceful and unhurried.

Everything was in place.

The iris chamber opened.

The daemonhost was revealed.

Half his face still belonged to a human. The other half did not.

The possessed man had been an Imperial Inquisitor, Remer. His possession was the work of a fellow Inquisitor. Remer had simply been unlucky, caught as a sacrificial pawn in a colleague's scheme.

Karen looked at him and thought: these people were no different from the heretics they condemned.

The daemonhost convulsed in violent, rhythmic spasms. A sickly, feverish pink crawled across its skin. The grotesque grin stretched wide, strings of saliva hanging from the corner of its mouth.

Guilliman had intended to have the Grey Knights restrain it.

He didn't get the chance.

The moment the possessed Remer's eyes found the mortal standing at Guilliman's side, every tremor, every twitch stopped. The wild agitation drained out of him like water from a cracked bowl.

What replaced it looked disturbingly like courteous composure.

So much for the protective measures and intimidation tactics. The daemon, apparently, was going to be very cooperative.

"The Lord of Change has spoken of you to us, great Audience." The voice that came from Remer's mouth carried a strange, chirping lilt, like distorted birdsong. "He rejoices in the new changes you have brought. Please forgive Magnus, that blind, foolish creature. If it were possible, the Lord of Change would like to invite you to sit with Him for a while."

Karen's eyes narrowed slightly.

Pleasantries. All of it.

"Straight to the point, daemon. We have nine questions."

"Ah, of course." Remer's volume rose. He sounded almost eager. "I shall answer nine questions, just as befits the great number of the Lord of Change. Nine. What a wondrous number."

Karen looked at Guilliman. The Master of Ultramar nodded.

When the daemonhost's gaze shifted to Guilliman, however, the cooperative pleasantness collapsed. Disgust moved across the creature's face, naked and ugly, but it had no choice.

"I despise you, accursed son."

"You say that as if I'm fond of you, daemon."

Guilliman took a slow breath.

"First question. Is the Plaguefather Ku'Gath currently brewing a new plague on the planet Iax?"

It wasn't an idle question. Having learned the future trajectory of events from Karen, Guilliman needed confirmation that the Plaguefather was still on Iax, still at work. That plague was aimed at all of Ultramar. Destroying it could tip the scales of the entire war.

"Of course. He remains on that planet, brewing." The daemon shivered as it spoke. "You have eight questions left."

"Second question. In the plague Ku'Gath is brewing, has a new component been added? One sufficient to kill gene-primarchs?"

Every person in the room heard the daemon draw a sharp breath.

Just as expected, Karen thought.

He and Guilliman had talked this through. Nurgle was facing three formidable primarchs. The Plague Lord couldn't match that with Greater Daemons, Daemon Primarchs, and mortal champions alone. He would adapt. He had to.

The daemon was silent for a long moment.

"Yes."

"Third question." Karen spoke this time. He had one specific conjecture he needed to test, the soul fragment of the Great Angel that the Plague Lord held in his possession.

If Nurgle meant to stand against three primarchs in the Plague War, that was the kind of trump card he might finally play.

But Karen wasn't certain. He needed the answer from the daemon's own mouth.

"Is this new component," Karen said, "a part of the Great Angel Sanguinius?"

Silence.

The daemon smiled.

It praised Karen's sharpness.

"Of course, honored Audience. Seeing the changes you have wrought, the Plague Lord has reached for His most treasured prize."

The chirping lilt stretched wide around the words, almost reverent.

"A part of Sanguinius himself."

➤ Next: Nurgle's Most Favored

— .—— .—— .—— .—— .——

📚Read 70+ chapters ahead on Patreon.

💎Join the free community tier for early access to the latest updates:

🔥patreon(.)com/DarkGolds