Terra.
After successfully returning, the Emperor immediately focused his full attention on matters concerning the Webway Project.
To avoid any distractions, he first convened the highest-ranking Imperial officials currently present on Terra for a strategic meeting.
Then, by temporarily reallocating senior personnel from various key departments, he assembled a governing body resembling an ancient Roman Senate.
This institution would manage the countless affairs of the Imperium while he devoted himself entirely to the Webway.
Only after this arrangement was in place did the Emperor feel comfortable withdrawing from public governance—
becoming, in effect, a completely hands-off ruler—
and issued strict instructions that no one was to disturb him.
Thus, although the Emperor vanished from political life, the Imperium continued operating in an orderly and stable manner.
On the surface, nothing seemed amiss.
Yet the composition of that new council contained a grave flaw.
Not a single Space Marine Legion, nor any Primarch, held a seat.
For warriors fighting and dying on the front lines—
those who had expanded humanity's borders through blood and sacrifice—
this exclusion felt like a deliberate slight.
They had spilled the most blood, fought the hardest battles, and won the Imperium's greatest victories.
Yet when it came time to divide authority, they were given nothing.
Inevitably, dissatisfaction began to simmer.
For those who knew how the Emperor had once dealt with the Thunder Warriors, the unease was even worse.
Many of the Astartes who had participated in that purge had survived—
and through them, numerous Primarchs had long suspected the truth behind the Thunder Warriors' fate.
No one dared speak it aloud…
but everyone understood.
Now, faced with the Emperor's actions, that quiet fear resurfaced.
---
Shortly after, at the front:
Warmaster Horus received several discreet pieces of information.
A deep shadow settled over his thoughts.
Among all the Primarchs, he had spent the most time with the Emperor.
Their relationship hovered somewhere between father and son, and equals in friendship.
And because of that closeness, Horus understood one thing with painful clarity:
The Emperor favored humanity far more than the superhuman weapons he had created.
Horus also understood that the Primarchs and their Legions were meant to be temporary tools—
essential to the Great Crusade, but perhaps disposable afterward.
If that was all, Horus could have accepted it.
His duty had always been to humanity first, not to himself.
But he feared the reality would be far harsher.
The Emperor's decisiveness—his ruthlessness—was beyond question.
A hesitant or weak-willed man could never have built an empire.
After a long silence, Horus looked at the star map before him, most sectors now bearing the Imperial Aquila.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"I can only wait until the Crusade nears completion…
then discuss the future with him directly."
---
— The Edge of the Eye of Terror —
On his return journey, Lorgar Aurelian studied the blood-red dagger in his hand—about thirty centimeters long and four to five centimeters wide.
Its presence made him uneasy.
The blade had been personally bestowed by Orsaga.
It had not only been blessed by Nurgle,
but also carried the power of the other four Chaos Gods, fused together.
It could cut through any defense, corrupt all living and dead matter—
even a corpse struck by it would transform into a grotesque creature.
Lorgar's task was simple:
Someone must use this blade to wound Horus.
Just one cut—
and the Warmaster would be pulled from the Emperor's orbit into the service of Chaos.
But how to deliver such a blow?
Horus was among the top five most formidable beings in the entire Imperium.
Surrounded by thousands of elite guards, he was nearly unreachable.
Ninety-nine percent of assassins would die before ever getting close.
Beside Lorgar stood Erebus, First Chaplain of the Word Bearers.
Seeing Lorgar's troubled expression, Erebus stepped forward confidently.
"My lord, there is no need for concern.
I am fully capable of accomplishing this task.
When it comes to striking from the shadows, I have never failed."
"…"
It was, frankly, not the most reassuring declaration.
But Lorgar hesitated only briefly.
Though he had recently learned that Erebus had long since pledged himself to the Crimson King, and had even guided Lorgar toward the Eye of Terror, he felt no resentment.
After all—
the outcome had been good.
He had met a true god.
For Lorgar, whose life revolved around faith, that alone outweighed all else.
At last, he handed the dagger to Erebus.
"Be cautious. You must not delay the designs of the great powers."
Erebus bowed deeply, expression loyal and resolute.
"Yes, my lord. We will ensure that false Emperor regrets the destruction of the Perfect City!"
Hearing this, Lorgar nodded with satisfaction.
As deep as his devotion once was, so too is his hatred now.
Every time he recalled the fate of the Perfect City, fury tightened in his chest.
He hated the Emperor—
hated him for betrayal, for humiliation, for destroying everything he believed in.
What Lorgar failed to notice was the disdain hidden deep in Erebus's eyes.
To Erebus, a master schemer and traitor by nature, the task was not about loyalty—
it was an opportunity to impress the Crimson King, nothing more.
As for Lorgar?
In Erebus's mind, he was nothing but a useful tool.
After all, if Lorgar never truly governed, Erebus could continue to manipulate the entire Word Bearers Legion from behind the scenes—a perfect arrangement.
Should anything go wrong,
Lorgar would take the blame,
while Erebus walked free.
His plan, in truth, was elegantly simple—
Lorgar Aurelian had been neatly, thoroughly,
and completely played.
....
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