+You... killed my son.+
The Emperor's voice elongated through the spiral ebony court of the Vengeful Spirit. Within the deep recesses of Horus Lupercal's eyes, there lay only bewilderment. Could the Sanguinius standing beside the Emperor be the true illusion?
Or perhaps, was that Sanguinius's spite-filled specter?
He had truly, with his own hands, shattered every single bone in Sanguinius's body and murdered his most beloved brother, hadn't he?
Yes, he had absolutely killed Sanguinius; he had killed his brother. The tactile sensation of those consecutive hammer blows still lingered at Horus's fingertips, delivering a twisted surge of exhilaration. Could the slaughter of a brother truly be this intoxicating?
+You... killed my son.+
The Emperor's eyes locked dead onto Horus as he spoke once more.
Horus was utterly at a loss. He had already stated it once, had he not?
Why say it yet again?
Was he trying to emphasize his condemnation?
Was he trying to express his fury?
Or had he already been frightened out of his wits by this sight, descending into madness?
Suddenly, Horus perceived that his father was not looking at him at all. The Master of Mankind was looking right behind him. Within those golden-light-shrouded eyes was the reflection of the primordial Four—and that reflection showed the primordial Four twisting, struggling, roaring, wailing, raging, hoping, and craving...
Those four colossal, majestic shadows crouched behind Horus Lupercal, while simultaneously piercing through the interior of his form. Alexander saw it too; he had never viewed the true forms of the Gods so directly. In the past, the Gods he observed were actually images distorted by his own will—his own perception had warped their appearance, one could even say beautified them, reducing them to a single aspect. But now, the Gods behind Horus revealed a fundamental truth...
Self-destruction. Those four shadows craved self-destruction. Alexander sensed their agony; within this galaxy, even the Gods were in extreme pain. The very things that composed them were tormenting them, violating them, distorting them, and invading them.
Chaos was infinite and eternally contradictory, which meant the theoretical monster of unified Chaos could never exist—the Gods themselves were the split products of that monster due to its inherent contradictions. Yet the Gods themselves were trapped within this same paradox. On one hand, they craved the maintenance of their own existence; on the other hand, they craved dissolution. This tormented them, bringing them unending misery. It caused them to intensely crave self-destruction, to crave the birth of a consuming ruin, to crave the Dark King to end their suffering. Yet on the flip side, they intensely craved survival, craving to infinitely prolong and maintain their existence. What Alexander had consistently faced before was, in truth, only the latter aspect of the Gods...
"What are you looking at?" Horus snarled in demand. He obviously knew what the Emperor was looking at, and he felt enraged by it. He wished his father would stop wearing an expression as if he were already dead, and instead look at him, face him.
"He is looking at your masters, Father," a voice rang out.
There's another player?
Horus looked toward the Emperor's side in confusion. Only at this very moment did he notice that besides Sanguinius, the Emperor had brought someone else—a short human, a...
...Lunar Wolf.
Loken, his once most-beloved son.
Oh, how heartbreaking.
"I have no masters."
Horus felt his heart break over the misunderstanding directed at him by both his father and his son. "I am my own master. I am even the master of Chaos."
"I have mastered the power of Chaos, grasping this supreme force. The primordial Four love me, generously sharing their power with me. I have attained a realm you never reached. I am the Warmaster of reality, and the Warmaster of Chaos."
"Father, you can see my power, right?"
"So, consider it a plea from me. I beg of you, kneel."
"I beg you to kneel, and then I will spare your life. It will all be over."
"Pfft..." The short human burst into laughter, causing fury to wash over Horus's face.
"If it were a moment earlier, I would have said that no one can ever master Chaos," the Emperor said in a low voice. "But now, I must tell you: someone indeed has mastered Chaos, but it is not you."
"You crave the power of Chaos, which means you can never master it. That power is mere ruin, and nothing else besides ruin."
"You must possess another anchor, another power, another spirit, to tightly hold the reins of this beast."
With that, the Emperor looked toward the short human.
"For the first time, I am quite fond of the Thirteenth," the Emperor said with a tinge of sorrow.
The Thirteenth, Guilliman...
An even more intense fury surged within Horus's chest. He could comprehend the Emperor stating he loved Sanguinius; he could comprehend the Emperor loving Fulgrim; he could comprehend the Emperor loving Dorn; he could comprehend the Emperor loving Russ; he could even comprehend the Emperor loving Mortarion. But... Guilliman? Roboute Guilliman? He could not accept his father favoring him.
"Father," Horus said, his tone almost pleading. "Can't you just be a bit more open-minded? Kneel to me, tell me you were wrong, be willing to sit by my side, and let this all end?"
"Deep down, this must be what you want, right? I beg you, follow your heart, tell me you want to kneel before me—"
"...Haha, holy crap..." The short human was laughing again.
The Emperor's face twitched slightly, and he raised a hand to cover his face.
"How dare you be so bold! I am speaking with my father!!" Horus looked toward the short human, snarling.
The short human blinked, and then, finally, completely unable to contain himself, let out a booming laugh.
"Horus, cease this farce," Horus's father spoke with sorrow, looking at his own son for the first time.
A farce...
This is merely a farce?
In your eyes, this is nothing but a farce?
Horus's expression shifted from irritation to cruelty, his talons gently opening and closing. "Father, I promise you, you will not like the 'farce' that follows."
"Father," Loken said, virtually unable to endure this moment, pleading with Horus.
But Horus didn't even look at him. The Emperor had to die; Horus told himself this. He had to die here, there was no other way. But that dwarf who was constantly laughing—that clown—no, he didn't deserve to die alongside the Emperor. He had to be subjected to absolute torment, and then...
No, Horus thought about it and realized he didn't want to spend that much time dealing with that short dwarf. In that case, before killing the Emperor, he would kill him first, and then let the Emperor suffer to the absolute limit...
Horus let out a cruel laugh. Every single spike on Worldbreaker roared as he leapt down from the high dais. Worldbreaker smashed toward Alexander like a demonic planet plunging from the Warp into reality.
Alexander heard the craving. A craving for death. Slaanesh screamed in craving for death, yearning for the ultimate stimulation brought by demise, longing to fall within an intense death.
Khorne roared in craving for death, yearning for a war capable of killing him, longing to fall within the death brought by war. Tzeentch whispered in craving for death, yearning for the unprecedented change brought by demise, even if the destination of this change was absolute stagnation. Nurgle wailed in craving for death, yearning for death because death was inherently the destiny of life, even if the destination of this destiny was absolute lifelessness.
Looking at Worldbreaker which was swirling with the power of the primordial Four Gods, Alexander silently drew the short sword from his waist, holding it vertically with the tip pointing downward, intercepting Horus's heavy hammer.
This foolish mortal, this ridiculous dwarf. A cruel smile surfaced at the corner of Horus's lips as the spikes of Worldbreaker collided with that completely ordinary, toy-like short sword.
Worldbreaker split into two. It was as smooth as a hot knife slicing through butter, meeting absolutely no resistance whatsoever. Not only that, but after slicing through Worldbreaker, the entirely featureless blade swung toward Horus's face, precisely cleaving right along the axis of Horus's bald head. Horus turned his head, staring in blank horror at the blade resting flat against his visage. The other Horus turned his head simultaneously; the two bald heads looked at each other as if staring into a mirror. Their bodies were still joined together, but their heads had already been divided into two.
With a gentle sweep of the Splitting Sword, the Horus who had lunged at Alexander was instantly carved into two entities. The two Horuses became slightly shorter in stature, standing on either side of Alexander, looking at each other in utter bewilderment.
Even the primordial Four residing within them had been split into two. Nurgle and Khorne entrenched themselves within the left Horus, while Slaanesh and Tzeentch entrenched themselves within the right Horus. The two sides stared blankly at each other, not yet having figured out what had transpired.
Right at this moment, the song of ten thousand machines resonated from Alexander's form. Steam billowed, gears turned, and currents surged as a multitude of bizarre phenomena manifested. He abruptly threw open his arms, and thousands of Mini-Doraemons surged out like a tidal wave, waving their round hands as they smashed toward the two Horuses.
The two Horuses roared almost simultaneously. Pitch-black lightning surged forth, wrapping around the Worldbreaker warhammers as they collided with the round hands waved by the Mini-Doraemons. Something that shocked the two Horuses once more occurred—those seemingly soft, round hands actually blocked their strikes. Horus raised his head to look at Alexander, only to see Alexander's short form seemingly begin to expand, revealing certain internal truths before Horus. Horus saw Mars; upon the scalding, crimson thermal soil, a colossal blue robotic cat statue forged of metal towered over the Martian landscape, extending a round hand to point toward the sun, while countless members of the Adeptus Mechanicus worshiped beneath it.
Horus smiled; he understood now.
"So you are also one of the primordial Four..." one Horus said.
"...No, Tzeentch, Slaanesh, Nurgle, Khorne... the four slots are already full..." the other Horus countered.
Right at this moment, Sanguinius and the Emperor struck out left and right, launching themselves at the two Horuses respectively.
The Guilliman on the right offered a cruel smile. Even with only half his power, he could still violate...
Guilliman spun around abruptly, the Loyal Short Sword in his hand swirling with a profane energy of torment and change as he smashed it toward the Human Emperor. The Emperor's sword burned with golden, blazing fire, the boundless psychic might of the Master of Mankind pressing down like a storm against the Loyal Short Sword in Guilliman's hand. That short sword possessed a brand-new power; the fires of Calth had tempered it, and a new order was budding within the blade. The Master of Mankind felt it—the power within himself belonging to the King of Ancient Eons, belonging to the entire collective of humanity, was being partially carved away by Guilliman. He was using his own order to override the Emperor's order, making himself the spokesperson for humanity.
Unlike Horus, Horus and Guilliman were practically two completely opposing aspects right now. Horus was emotional, impulsive, and frantic; Guilliman was rational, cautious, and orderly. Every single one of Horus's attacks betrayed rage and intense emotion, while every single one of Guilliman's attacks betrayed order and meticulous planning. Originally, this was Guilliman's flaw—he thought too much, and when facing opponents whose thoughts were faster than his, he was often more prone to exposing openings. But now, Guilliman's mind was faster and vaster than it had ever been, even surpassing the Emperor's reaction speed. This instead became Guilliman's advantage, allowing his thoroughly trained martial arts to bear fruit for the first time.
Alexander's silhouette appeared behind Guilliman. He swung the Splitting Sword, slashing toward Guilliman's back. Guilliman's figure flashed abruptly, evading Alexander's dangerous strike.
He didn't know what that gadget was, but he wasn't stupid enough to let himself get hit by an unrecognized weapon.
What if that sword carried some sort of instant-death effect or some kind of weakening debuff?
Guilliman was even slightly worried that the sword might only exert its effect when it missed.
Fortunately, his anxieties did not materialize.
"Why is the battle that decides the fate of humanity still a melee fight?" Alexander raised the Splitting Sword in his hand, complaining toward Guilliman.
Among those present, his martial arts were the absolute worst. He had indeed received training from Sanguinius, but his level was strictly limited to being merely stronger than an average person.
"This is merely a superficial appearance—just one aspect of a far deeper conflict."
"You and I are well aware of this, are we not?"
Guilliman said with a smile. He swung the Loyal Short Sword, thrusting it toward Alexander. Almost simultaneously, the scenery around Alexander and Guilliman rapidly shifted. A black-and-white chessboard materialized between the two of them, and the Loyal Short Sword transformed into a black chess piece pinched between Guilliman's fingers. Guilliman reached out to place the piece upon the board, pressing the "Monarch" closer to Alexander.
"We can also play a game of Regicide," Guilliman said with a smile.
"I don't know how to play Regicide."
Alexander abruptly reached out, grabbed the chessboard before him, and slammed it directly into Guilliman's head. "But I know that sometimes, winning a game isn't about the board—it's about the board itself."
A falling chess piece was caught by Guilliman. The piece instantly transformed into a crystal scepter flowing with Chaos sorcery, and ten thousand spells erupted from the scepter simultaneously. "You see, now I have learned psyker arts and can use spells as well."
The chessboard shattered in Alexander's hands, turning into thousands of cards that rained down. "Let's just play cards instead." Alexander grabbed one of the cards and swung it fiercely toward Guilliman. Upon that card, Horus's silhouette flashed by, and Drach'nyen stabbed straight toward Guilliman's chest.