Chapter 42: Erebus — Tranquilizer?!
The Primarch of the Imperial Fists—
Rogal Dorn—
Had lost.
Even if Dorn did not wish to admit it, defeat was defeat. And this time, it was complete.
He closed his eyes and fell to one knee.
Erebus had not only insulted him throughout the battle—
He had shattered the very thing Dorn took the most pride in.
His unbreakable resolve.
The stone had cracked.
"Lord Dorn," Erebus said, extending a hand, "I have never met anyone as steadfast as you. Not even Lorgar Aurelian can compare. It is the Imperium's fortune that its gates are guarded by you."
Dorn was silent for a moment.
During the fight, Erebus' mouth had been utterly vile—
But afterward?
Unexpectedly sincere.
Dorn thought back to Lorgar…
Who had been insufferable from start to finish.
Assessment: minus one.
"Defeat is defeat," Dorn said at last, taking Erebus' hand and rising. "I accept it."
But in his heart, he amended:
He had not lost to the Word Bearers.
Only to Erebus.
Erebus waved a hand dismissively.
"You're too modest. I merely benefited from timing. You've been fighting endlessly—fatigue caught up with you. This victory wasn't truly fair."
Those words—
Struck perfectly.
Dorn felt… oddly reassured.
Should I learn from him?
"Very well," Erebus added casually. "Please step down. There are other Primarchs waiting."
"…."
Dorn's face darkened instantly.
To hell with learning from him.
He stepped down from the octagonal arena, returning to the ranks of the Imperial Fists, arms crossed, gaze fixed.
He wanted to see—
Who would be next.
"Who's next?" Erebus called out. "Which one of you wants to try?"
A presence stepped forward.
Violent.
Oppressive.
Angron.
The Primarch of the World Eaters entered the arena, the Butcher's Nails biting deep into his mind, his chain-axe resting on his shoulder. Behind him, the World Eaters followed in silence.
His eyes locked onto Erebus.
"…You?" Angron said flatly. "You're the one?"
"I am certainly no match for a mighty Primarch such as yourself, Lord Angron," Erebus replied lightly.
Angron's gaze sharpened.
"You're mocking me."
"I wouldn't dare."
"I'll kill you."
"Of course," Erebus shrugged. "You're welcome to try."
Angron's lips curled.
"Lorgar Aurelian! I'll kill your favorite dog! Hang his head from my banner!"
With a roar, Angron charged into the arena—
And at that exact moment—
Erebus stepped forward.
The two closed the distance—
Angron's expression shifted.
The madness—
Faded.
His eyes cleared.
Then—
He sat down.
"?"
Confusion rippled through the arena.
Angron… sat there quietly.
"…Hello," Angron said calmly. "Erebus. I am Angron."
A pause.
"…I haven't felt this peaceful in a long time."
Erebus blinked.
"…What?"
He stepped back cautiously.
"I'm going to kill you," Angron added suddenly, voice cold.
Erebus stepped forward again.
"That wasn't me," Angron said calmly. "I can't control it."
Step back.
"Coward."
Step forward.
"It's ugly, isn't it?"
Erebus froze.
"…What kind of… tranquilizer is this?"
He began circling Angron cautiously.
"…Why not ask the Emperor to remove the Nails?"
Angron snorted.
"That old tyrant won't."
Silence.
Erebus said nothing.
For once—
He chose silence.
At first, he had thought Angron, when calm, seemed like a reasonable man.
Then—
That sentence reminded him why the Emperor of Mankind had not removed the Butcher's Nails.
"Yes," Angron continued calmly. "I hate them. But I'm not a fool. He wants me to fight. To conquer. That's all I am to him."
Blasphemy.
Pure blasphemy.
And yet—
Erebus found himself… agreeing.
"Angron," Erebus said quickly, "be careful what you say."
Angron tilted his head.
"I don't care."
A pause.
Then Angron stood.
Serious.
Focused.
"…Erebus," he said, "will you stay with me?"
"…What?"
"You can come to the World Eaters," Angron continued. "Or I can come to the Word Bearers. I can be your guard. Or you can be mine."
Another step closer.
"We could be… good friends."
"NO!"
Two furious voices erupted at once.
The first—
Khârn the Betrayer, captain of the World Eaters.
The second—
Lorgar himself.
Khârn's face twisted with fury.
His Primarch… wanting to follow someone else?
Unacceptable.
Lorgar, meanwhile, looked ready to explode.
This wasn't negotiation—
This was theft.
Blatant theft.
"Angron!" Lorgar roared. "You dare?!"
He nearly charged forward—
But Magnus the Red restrained him with psychic force.
"Calm yourself," Magnus said quietly, though even he looked intrigued.
High above, the Emperor and Malcador the Sigillite watched in silence.
A faint, sickly green light flickered around Erebus.
Malcador's eyes narrowed.
"…Is that—?"
The Emperor nodded faintly.
"Something akin to Nurgle's influence… yet not entirely."
The energy was stabilizing Angron.
Repairing him.
Slowly.
Subtly.
The Emperor remembered—
He had once worked alongside the Mechanicum to examine Angron's mind.
To remove the Nails—
Would take decades.
Perhaps a century.
And even then—
There was no guarantee of survival.
But now—
There was hope.
"EREBUS! I challenge you!"
"ANGRON! I challenge you!"
Khârn and Lorgar both leapt into the arena, followed by their respective captains.
"I refuse," Erebus and Angron said simultaneously.
Then paused.
And looked at each other.
The absurdity of the moment hung in the air.
"Erebus! Damn you!" Lorgar shouted. "You're not going anywhere!"
"Angron!" Khârn snarled. "You're not leaving us!"
Lorgar trembled with rage.
He had made a terrible mistake.
Letting Erebus fight in his place—
Letting him shine—
And now?
Now his most important subordinate was being stolen.
Unacceptable.
Absolutely unacceptable.
"Enough."
The Emperor's voice echoed across the arena.
All fell silent.
He stepped forward, clad in golden armor, Malcador at his side.
Everyone knelt.
Everyone—
Except two.
Erebus, arms folded.
Angron, expression empty.
The Emperor looked directly at Angron.
"…If you wish to make such a decision," He said calmly,
"You will require my permission first."
Silence.
Total silence.
End of Chapter 42
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