Chapter 20: The Warmaster's Return
Three days later, inside the Ork hulk, Francis stood before a massive green experimental flask while his mind drifted to his earlier conversation with Kelbor.
"Forgive me, Father," he muttered, adjusting the gene-sequencer's settings. "For your sake, I've spoken words that go against my very nature. In truth, I am but a conservative researcher of the biological arts, yet necessity demands these deceptions."
Francis sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his selfless act growing heavier each day.
Kelbor entered from the outer laboratory, his sensors detecting Francis's murmurs. "Francis, does this work prove so taxing upon your constitution?" the Tech-Adept inquired, his vox-grille crackling with curiosity.
"After all, Ork genetic material exhibits extreme instability, more akin to fungal organisms than true flesh."
For three days, Francis had worked to create functional Ork augmentics, but complications kept arising. The Ork genetic code's regenerative properties meant any severed limb rapidly developed into a complete organism. Even spliced with foreign material, the results were just new Ork subspecies, not the hybrid he needed.
This forced him to rely on Kelbor's xenotech expertise.
"Our first approach failed," Francis said, stroking his chin as he studied the specimen in the chamber. "This version uses Servitor construction principles. Maybe we can make a bio-mechanical appendage for basic functions."
The creature resembled a grotesque organic glove. Broad, two-digit fingers had mutated from the original Ork limb, while soft tendrils from atrophied legs wrapped around the upper arm mount.
On the forearm, a protrusion with crude Ork features housed a lobotomized brain. Its self-awareness had been removed and replaced with mechanical interfaces and bio-neural conduits.
When someone inserted their arm, the tendrils would interface with their nervous system while the Ork brain served as processing support. This gave the wearer an instinctive understanding of Ork technology.
"Remarkable work!" Kelbor stepped closer, his optical arrays focusing on the specimen. "Are you certain you won't join the Mechanicus? I could create a xenogenetic research division for you."
"What shall we call this creation?"
"'Ork Brain' works for now," Francis replied with a slight smile. "Though it has problems, can't mass produce it, short lifespan, and the modifications don't breed true. Each one needs individual cultivation."
Francis continued his data recording while Kelbor watched with growing respect.
Suddenly, Francis looked up. "What do you say we formalise our partnership? Perhaps swear an oath of brotherhood?"
Kelbor's arrays flickered. "I... what do you mean?"
Outside the hulk, Magnus paced in frustration.
"Why is he locked up in that vessel? Your ship is nearly repaired, but he's still playing with those tech-priests," Magnus muttered, his psychic aura crackling with impatience.
He couldn't understand why Francis wasted time with the Mechanicus when urgent matters demanded attention.
"Blame the priests from our first meeting," Leman Russ said wearily. "Whatever Francis offered secured their help with repairs, though I wonder at what cost?"
Russ looked abandoned. Before Prospero, Francis had been constant company, but now gene-forges and technical discussions consumed the young Primarch's attention.
"The old gives way to the new," Russ muttered.
Even Horus's corruption, news that should have sparked immediate action, had become an endless debate. Magnus spent two days pacing and asking questions that neither could answer.
Russ had sent word to Terra, but they could only wait and hope their warning arrived in time.
...
Deep in the Warp, a Space Wolves strike cruiser was trapped in a massive energy vortex, its Geller field straining against immaterial currents.
"What options do we have? We're completely stuck," several Astartes asked their Librarian, anxiety creeping into their voices.
"The Primarch's orders were clear: complete the mission fast," the psyker replied grimly. "But our situation makes success unlikely."
His words cast shadows until atmospheric cycling drew their attention. They watched in horror as the Librarian stepped toward the Geller field barrier.
"What madness is this? Return to your station immediately!"
"You will be consumed if you venture into the raw Warp!"
"Do not throw your life away needlessly! We can find another solution!"
The crew rushed to override controls, but the machine spirit had locked everything during transit, and safety protocols became death sentences.
The Librarian turned one last time, saluting toward Terra, then Fenris, then his comrades.
"Remember me as I was, brothers."
The field deactivated. Raw Warp energy began its work, flesh bubbled, bones twisted into impossible shapes as Chaos rewrote his essence.
Even as half his face dissolved, the Librarian's voice rang clear: "For Russ and the Allfather!"
He leapt from the hull, channelling all his psychic power into one devastating blast. The explosion created a storm that hurled the cruiser free.
The Space Wolves had honoured their oath, even unto death.
But escape was brief; something prevented their return to realspace. Soon, they saw what chilled warriors' hearts: a massive beating heart suspended in the void.
Terror beyond comprehension gripped them as invisible bonds held fast. The heart pulsed stronger with each beat, fed by crimson life-blood.
Reality was torn apart. The heart exploded, and from within emerged Horus Lupercal, but changed beyond recognition.
An aura of dominance surrounded the fallen Warmaster, a power that made even Chaos recoil. He had become something greater and more terrible than the loyal son who once knelt before the Emperor.
Chaos had refined his physique into something monstrous. Sculpted muscles spoke of inhuman strength, skin bearing gray-black corruption, while his eyes blazed with unnatural light, windows to a soul where wisdom and madness spiralled together.
His armour pulsed with dark energy. Chaos runes covered every surface, their light waxing and waning with his movements.
Worldbreaker and the Talon of Horus were transformed, too, their power amplified by the Dark Gods' gifts.
"I've told you, I won't kneel to any of you," Horus spoke to the Warp itself, his voice carrying the authority of one who'd seen Terra's throne and found it wanting. "I'll give humanity a new existence! I shall hold dominion over this realm, but I won't serve you."
He stood alone in the chaos, his declaration ringing with certainty as power flowed through him, enough to challenge even the Master of Mankind.
Four energies surged toward him, each representing a Dark God's attention. Without fear, Horus absorbed their gifts as psychic fire wreathed his form and storms erupted throughout the local Warp.
Strange harmonies echoed as reality celebrated this dark transformation.
When the storms ended, Horus had vanished entirely.
On Davin, outside the Serpent Lodge, tension reached breaking point.
"Damn you, Erebus! Days have passed, why has the Warmaster not awakened yet?" Abaddon's fury was terrible to behold as he seized the Word Bearer by his gorget. "What schemes do you plot in shadow? Do you seek to ignite war between the Legions?"
"I've explained, the Warmaster needs delicate care," Erebus replied calmly, though his hand moved toward his weapon. "You've seen his growing strength. Recovery is close."
The Mournival began circling while Erebus gripped his crozius tighter, calculating escape routes. If needed, Chaos would see him safely away.
Then familiar footsteps echoed from inside, but something in their rhythm seemed different.
Joy flooded the Astartes' faces as they turned.
"The Primarch! He's rising!"
"It must be father!"
"Emperor be praised!"
"Primarch..." Tarik's voice broke with emotion.
When they saw the figure emerging from the darkness, confusion clouded their features. The aura was alien, vast and terrible, a power they'd witnessed only once before, in the Emperor's presence.
Could this truly be Horus Lupercal?
Then that voice, resonant with Warp power, spoke with unmistakable affection: "I have returned, my sons."
Though suffused with Chaos energy, the words compelled obedience. All four veterans dropped to their knees, proud heads bowing in submission.
Only Erebus remained standing, smirking as he basked in his perceived status beside the fallen Primarch.
Horus, however, didn't share that sentiment.
[End of Chapter]
I do wonder sometimes, whether it would be good or bad to someone like EMPEROR in our times.
The world may become much more than it is if he were, or maybe not.
What do you think??