Chapter 58: I Declare — Perturabo, Discharged
Aboard the Conqueror, Duel Arena
The arena was vast—iron-walled, cathedral-like, and lit by harsh lumen strips and the cold glow of observation decks above.
At its center stood a towering statue of the God-Emperor, silent and watchful.
Angron yawned.
For once, the nails were quiet.
Or at least… quieter.
He leaned lazily against a pillar, serving as the appointed arbiter of the duel.
A role he neither respected nor particularly enjoyed.
Still—
Even he understood the necessity of rules.
His gaze drifted across the arena.
To Perturabo, who was currently adjusting his equipment with meticulous focus—servo-automata orbiting him like predatory halos.
Angron clicked his tongue.
"Overengineered nonsense."
He knew why this duel was happening.
Everyone did.
Calliphone.
Erebus.
And Perturabo's increasingly unhinged imagination.
A moment later, Magnus and Erebus entered the arena stands.
Magnus carried refreshments.
Erebus carried nothing but looked entirely at ease.
Erebus sipped calmly from a glass and glanced toward Perturabo.
Perturabo noticed.
Of course he did.
Their eyes met.
Perturabo gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Then—
He accepted a drink from Calliphone, who had quietly approached him.
He did not hesitate.
He drank it.
From the stands, Erebus raised an eyebrow.
Magnus frowned.
"…That was unwise," Magnus muttered.
Erebus simply smiled.
"Where is Lorgar?" Perturabo called out, his voice echoing across the arena.
As if summoned by the question—
Lorgar Aurelian entered.
He did not walk alone.
Veterans of the XVII Legion followed behind him, chanting softly, their armor inscribed with scripture.
Golden light shimmered faintly around Lorgar himself.
Perturabo's eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He could feel it—
The subtle distortion of reality.
The unmistakable signature of psychic augmentation.
"Magnus…" Perturabo muttered darkly.
Across the arena, Magnus avoided his gaze.
"It won't be enough," Perturabo said under his breath.
Lorgar stepped forward, crozius in hand, radiance building around him.
"I am ready, brother."
Angron straightened slightly.
At last—something interesting.
He raised a hand.
"Duel between Primarchs," he growled. "No interference."
A pause.
"…Try not to destroy the ship."
Then—
"Begin."
The Duel
Perturabo moved first.
With a sharp gesture, his ring-automata surged forward—
And unleashed a storm of fire.
Bolter rounds screamed across the arena.
Explosions tore into the ground around Lorgar.
From the stands—
Magnus stiffened.
"He's serious."
Erebus snorted.
"He always was."
Smoke swallowed the battlefield.
Then—
Light.
Lorgar stood unharmed, encased in a shimmering psychic barrier.
Perturabo frowned.
Expected.
He advanced anyway.
With another command, the automata shifted formation—
Then detonated.
The arena shook violently.
Even Angron blinked.
"…That's new."
Magnus immediately raised a psychic barrier around the spectators.
Within the smoke—
Perturabo emerged.
Warhammer in hand.
"Faith won't save you," he said coldly.
Lorgar stepped forward.
"Nor will machines."
They collided.
Crozius met Warhammer.
The impact cracked the arena floor.
"Do you think you can win?" Perturabo growled.
Lorgar met his gaze.
Calm.
Certain.
"Do you think you can stop what has already begun?"
Perturabo froze—
Just for a fraction of a second.
And in that instant—
His mind betrayed him again.
A vision.
A future.
Erebus.
Calliphone.
A union.
"…No."
Rage erupted.
Perturabo swung with brutal force, driving Lorgar back—
Click.
Lorgar paused.
Looked down.
A mine.
"…You cannot be serious."
Perturabo said nothing.
The explosion followed instantly.
Lorgar was thrown back in a blast of fire and debris.
From the sidelines, Angron frowned.
"That's pushing it."
Erebus placed a hand on his arm.
"It's still a duel."
Angron glanced at him.
"…You're enjoying this."
Erebus smiled.
Escalation
Lorgar rose again.
His aura flared brighter now.
Anger, for once, broke through his usual composure.
He stepped forward—
Deliberately—
And walked straight across the battlefield.
Mines detonated beneath his feet.
One after another.
He did not stop.
"A true warrior," Angron muttered approvingly.
Lorgar closed the distance—
And was immediately struck by Perturabo's hammer.
The blow sent him crashing to the ground.
From above—
Magnus suddenly tensed.
"…Something's wrong."
He focused.
And realized—
Perturabo's hammer was glowing.
Not with technology.
Not with Warp energy.
But something else.
Golden.
Subtle.
Familiar.
"…Father?" Magnus whispered.
Beyond Sight
Within the immaterial—
Two wills clashed.
The Emperor of Mankind.
And Magnus the Red.
"You would interfere?" the Emperor's presence resonated.
Magnus stood firm.
"I would preserve what matters."
"Sentiment clouds you."
"Love is not weakness."
For a moment—
They collided.
Then—
The Emperor moved.
Magnus was overwhelmed instantly.
His defenses were shattered.
His will buckled.
And his power—
Withdrawn.
Back to the Arena
Lorgar felt it immediately.
The strength sustaining him—
Gone.
"…Magnus?"
No answer.
Only Perturabo.
Advancing.
Relentless.
The hammer fell again.
Lorgar blocked—but dropped to one knee, the ground cracking beneath him.
Then—
Perturabo's expression changed.
Red.
Blue.
Pale.
"What?"
A pause.
"…No."
Lorgar blinked.
Perturabo's grip tightened—
Then faltered.
His posture stiffened unnaturally.
"My… sister…"
His voice was strained now.
Realization dawned.
Betrayal.
Calliphone looked away from the stands.
Even so—
Perturabo did not retreat.
Did not yield.
He raised his hammer again.
"I will not…" he growled, "…entrust my family… to you…"
Across the arena—
Erebus folded his arms.
"…I never asked you to."
But Perturabo didn't hear him.
He stood firm.
Despite everything.
And for the first time—
He was not the cold Lord of Iron.
But simply—
A brother.
Protecting what was his.
Angron exhaled slowly.
"…Fight's not over."
And somewhere—
Far beyond sight—
The Emperor watched.
Silently.
End of Chapter
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