Chapter 23: One Went to Save You — One Came Back?
The sky burned crimson.
Warp energy rolled across the horizon like a fever, thick enough to taste. Lorgar felt it clawing at his thoughts, whispering at the edges of his faith. He stared toward the distant ritual grounds, unease tightening his chest.
Beside him, Erebus calmly drank from a canteen of ice-cold water scavenged from somewhere, spitting grit from his mouth with open disgust.
Colchis was a feudal world draped in scripture and superstition—but its technology lingered somewhere in the early industrial age.
Its greatest export was sand.
"The ritual began early," Erebus said quietly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Whether Kor Phaeron lived or died no longer mattered much to him. Dead would be convenient. Alive would merely require management.
Either way, Erebus trusted the old fanatic about as far as he could throw a Land Raider.
Figures appeared in the distance—dozens of them—running in panic.
Lorgar straightened at once.
As they drew closer, Garulek's voice carried across the wind, hoarse with terror.
"Lord Lorgar! Lord Erebus! Something has gone terribly wrong! We summoned something far beyond expectation!"
Lorgar stepped forward instinctively—but Erebus seized his arm.
Cold metal pressed against Erebus's palm.
"Careful, my brother," Erebus said. "Not until we know they're clean."
Lorgar hesitated, then nodded.
Dark Apostles surged forward, weapons raised, forcing Garulek and the survivors to their knees. Until corruption was ruled out, caution was law.
"Kor Phaeron stayed behind!" Garulek shouted. "He's holding the daemon at bay—Artash, the Skull-Taker!"
At the mention of Kor Phaeron's uncertain fate, Lorgar's breath caught.
Before he could speak, a gust of sand tore through the air.
Erebus was already moving.
Blade in hand—the one Lorgar himself had gifted him—he sprinted toward the ritual site without a backward glance.
"Examine them," Lorgar ordered sharply.
Then he raised his crozius high.
"The God-Emperor walks among mankind!" he thundered. "And we are His hidden blade! What are we?"
"Dark Apostles!" the warriors roared.
"What are we?"
"Dark Emissaries!"
"What is our purpose?"
"To annihilate the heretic! For the God-Emperor!"
With discipline restored, Lorgar turned—and ran.
Erebus plunged deeper into the corrupted zone.
The Warp screamed here.
Mutated humans fled in every direction—some sprouting horns, others tearing at themselves in madness. Those beyond salvation he ended without hesitation. Death, at least, spared them damnation.
"You mangy vermin!" a thunderous voice bellowed. "Come out and die! I'll wear your skull!"
The ground shook.
Erebus looked up.
Artash.
A Bloodthirster towered above the battlefield—vast wings, hooves cracking stone, horns slick with gore. A whip of congealed blood hung at its waist; a colossal blade carved through fleeing cultists like wheat.
"Damn you, old man," Artash snarled. "Damn you, rat!"
Erebus leapt.
The golden blade struck the daemon's sword—
—and shattered.
Erebus blinked.
Lorgar. You cheap bastard.
He followed through anyway, driving a psychic-laced punch straight into Artash's snarling face.
The Bloodthirster reeled back a step, surprised.
"A bold mortal!" Artash laughed. "Kneel, and the Blood God may yet claim you!"
"Join your god?" Erebus spat. "You're not a Bloodthirster—you're a blood-soaked chicken!"
They clashed again.
Erebus dodged, struck, cursed. His blows barely slowed the monster.
If he had power armour.
If he had a power blade.
If the Emperor's blessing burned brighter—
Then perhaps.
But now?
Now he was struggling.
"You are stronger than the old one," Artash growled. "Soon your skull will join his."
"You couldn't kill a half-dead fanatic," Erebus shot back. "That makes you the weakest Bloodthirster I've ever met."
With a snarl, Artash cast aside his blade.
"A fair fight, mortal!"
"Sit," Erebus snapped. "Good daemon."
A blue-glowing figure descended from the sky.
"Lorgar!"
Kor Phaeron crashed into the sand, shielded by fading psychic wards.
"Kor Phaeron!" Lorgar skidded to a halt several steps away. "Are you corrupted?"
Kor Phaeron waved him off irritably.
"I'm alive. Barely. I can't kill it alone. Where is Erebus?"
"I went to save you."
Kor Phaeron closed his eyes.
"…Of course he did."
Lorgar's jaw tightened.
One name scratched off his list of fears—only to be replaced by another.
Bloodthirsters were greater daemons of Khorne. Each was capable of slaughtering a world.
"Hold on," Lorgar whispered. "Erebus. Hold on."
He surged forward, shoving aside warriors without apology.
"Nothing happens to you," he muttered fiercely. "Nothing."
Kor Phaeron watched Lorgar vanish into the storm, then glanced at the remaining troops.
"…Did no one think to check me for corruption?"
"My lord," Garulek said carefully, "should we take command?"
Kor Phaeron sighed.
"Follow the Son of God."
He turned and marched after them, two thousand warriors trailing behind—kicking up sand, blood, and destiny in equal measure.
(End of Chapter)