Warhammer [505-506] (Patreon)

Chapter 505: The Emperor's Resolve—Revealing the Truth of Chaos

The Emperor's words left everyone present bewildered—they could not fathom what their great Emperor intended to do.

"My people, this story begins with a child. In order to complete the Great Crusade, I personally destroyed the perfect city he had created.

I broke that child's heart. But if I had to choose again, I would still do the same." The Emperor, holding nothing back, recounted the events of the Monarchia City to all the citizens, to everyone on Holy Terra.

"Great Emperor, that child—was he a Primarch?"

"Great Emperor, why are you telling us the story of that traitor?"

Some high-ranking Imperial officials, nobles, and even Ecclesiarchy members who knew the deeper truth immediately showed fearful expressions.

They knew this story well—it was a legend from ten thousand years ago, recorded in history books.

"At that time, what that child did was wrong. He worshipped me as a god! I wanted to tell him I was not a god! But after I sat on the Golden Throne, my thinking changed. If not for the prayers and hopes of all mankind, I could not have endured ten thousand years on the Golden Throne, nor preserved humanity for so long. Humanity would have perished ten thousand years ago!

That child's mistake ended up saving the entire Imperium ten millennia later. The scriptures he wrote became the holiest treasures of the Ecclesiarchy—he is its true father, the real founder.

He is Lorgar, Primarch of the Seventeenth Legion, author of the sacred texts, the true founder of the Ecclesiarchy." The Emperor chose to reveal part of the truth.

Maybe there was no need to hide Chaos anymore. For ten thousand years, mankind has covered up the existence of Chaos and its gods, trying to create a world without deities. But the Emperor realized—after all this time, he had been utterly wrong.

The common people knew nothing of Chaos or the truth behind the betrayal. All they knew was that Warmaster Horus rebelled against the Imperium ten thousand years ago.

They wanted to overthrow the Emperor's rule, but did not understand why the Warmaster turned, nor why the original Warmaster later returned to the Emperor's side.

The ordinary masses had no idea about Chaos Space Marines or Chaos Daemons; they thought the Warp was just an ethereal void.

At this moment, some high officials and foreign dignitaries sensed that something momentous was about to happen—the Emperor was about to break a tradition that had lasted ten thousand years!

"During the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago, I deceived all of humanity! I lied to you, claiming this world was materialistic, that only science existed. But that was false!

There are gods in this world—immensely powerful gods!" The Emperor's voice thundered through the crowd, shaking every Imperial citizen to their core. They stared in disbelief at the towering Emperor before them.

"Emperor, are you that god? Are you the god you speak of?"

"It must be so! The great Emperor is the one true god, leading us always!"

"The Golden Throne is your divine seat!" The crowd shouted, hoping for the Emperor's affirmation.

"No! I am not the most powerful of these gods. They dwell within the Warp—they are the antithesis of reality, the embodiment of corruption, the very face of evil, apostles of chaos.

They each represent a hopeless, maddening emotion. In the Warp, four most wicked gods reign.

They constantly seek to corrupt humanity's souls, to drag them into the abyss—into their hellish pits, striving to damn my people." The Emperor declared.

Today, at this very moment, he would reveal truths about this world. He would let every Imperial citizen, even mere mortals, know about the existence of Chaos Daemons.

For endless concealment was pointless. Hiding the truth only made it easier for Chaos cultists to spread their faith. People, ignorant of the truth, believed they were worshipping a benevolent god—when in fact, it was the vilest of deities.

Many Imperial worlds were filled with oppression, the people's lives worse than death—truly miserable.

For every servitor working in the forges, there was once a living soul behind those mechanical frames—slaves bound to the assembly lines, former living Imperial citizens!

In such wretched conditions, the masses did not know the truth. If a god promising hope and happiness appeared, it was all too easy for mortals to fall. But if they knew the truth—that the other side was a demon—would they still cross over?

"I have another story to tell you—of a fallen, demonic world.

Eight thousand years after I took the Golden Throne, a planet was overrun by Chaos Space Marines. It became a daemon world.

There, the people were ruled by Slaanesh, the Prince of Excess. Humans there have six fingers, each with four joints; their tongues are as long as serpents, eyes violet, hooves twisted like a ram's.

They call this beauty.

There is no distinction of male or female; everyone is both, able to impregnate and be impregnated.

Infants are born in six months. At birth, they do not cry—they laugh uproariously, feeling endless joy and bliss.

Each is a perfect artist, learning painting and music from childhood. They paint with blood, craft instruments from human bones.

They live only thirty-six years, then die laughing. Every 216 years, the whole planet holds a grand sacrificial carnival.

All dress in sheer robes, dance lascivious dances, and walk the six lanes of the Carnival Of Chaos.

Their flesh is flayed, souls torn apart, their screams sharp as razors—ground to powder in a daemon-raising ritual, birthing a daemon prince.

Every 216 years, the entire population is sacrificed, becoming food and fodder for daemons.

Then new humans are sent to the planet, to be corrupted in turn. Such is the world of daemons." The Emperor told a story that sounded absurd and terrifying—but was real. A world infected by Slaanesh.

Slaanesh loves the number six, so all things on that world revolve around it—lifespans of thirty-six years, six fingers, births every six months, and wholesale sacrifice every 216 years.

This story echoed over all of Holy Terra, chilling every soul.

The ancients could not believe that, under the Emperor's rule, such depraved and cruel worlds existed.

"G-Great Emperor, those evil beings—your Angels of Death will destroy them, right?"

"They will be destroyed, but they were once human! There are countless such hells, full of Imperial citizens, corrupted into living nightmares." The Emperor replied.

Compared to the other Chaos Gods, Slaanesh's worlds are, in a way, less terrible.

At least there, people live to thirty-six, can attend school, learn art, sing songs.

On Khorne's worlds, from birth, there is only war.

On Nurgle's worlds, your body is riddled with maggots and disease, stench and rot, yet you feel only bliss.

The Emperor's words terrified all listeners—they had never imagined that, without his protection, the worlds ruled by Chaos were so horrific.

"Once, a planetary governor believed Slaanesh would grant him immortality and pleasure. He sacrificed half his world's population to summon Slaanesh's armies.

But he received no reward.

His son was flayed alive, reduced to a skeleton. His wife was skinned before his eyes and danced, shrieking in agony.

He himself was butchered piece by piece. That is Chaos. That is the truth of it all." spoke Rhodes.

This was his first direct encounter with daemons, the Emperor's first appearance in this form.

The Emperor was right—rather than conceal the truth for ten thousand years, it was better to let everyone know the horror of Chaos, so all, even planetary governors, would understand the true price of worshipping Chaos.

Aisha, standing by Rhodes, smiled stiffly. 'Back then, my mind was clouded by Chaos too! I was a victim! It's all Slaanesh's fault—I need to get rid of this cursed power, let someone else have it!'

"What blasphemy!"

"Great Emperor, please destroy those heretics! We beg you—purge those wicked heretics!" Countless humans began to pray.

After today, the Emperor's speech would spread to every world under Imperial rule; all the lowliest citizens would come to know the terror of Chaos!

"Step forward, stand before the people! My son! Let the true founder of the Ecclesiarchy lead his church."

Chapter 506: The Ecclesiarch Lorgar, and the Resurrection of Malcador

The clone Lorgar took a deep breath, tore off his robe to reveal his three-meter-six frame, and stepped before the Emperor—before all the Imperium's people.

Some high-ranking Inquisitors and Ecclesiarchs, recognizing his face from ancient records, were utterly shocked. The 17th Primarch, the leader of the Word Bearers, Lorgar.

In the past, his appearance would have triggered a Grey Knights assault, with Inquisitors summoning other Space Marine Chapters to banish this Daemon Prince.

But now, things had changed. The earlier return of Magnus had already caused a sensation across the Imperium, though the common people took it in stride—after all, what did a ten-thousand-year-old feud matter to them?

Most people accepted Magnus's return since he could occasionally take the Emperor's place on the Golden Throne, guide lost ships home, and rescue vessels trapped in the Warp for centuries.

But now, the return of another former Warmaster caused an even greater stir.

Yet still, the people accepted it—one should never underestimate the endurance of the Imperial citizenry.

If the Emperor decreed it right, then so it was. Even the Civil High Lords agreed; they barely understood the Heresy, anyway.

For the high command, they knew that the Chaos Gods had possessed the old Warmaster's body—Horus's soul had been preserved by the Emperor.

So Lorgar's return as the Primarch of the Word Bearers was not an issue.

No elaborate justification was needed. If the Emperor accepted him, then he was loyal.

"People of the Imperium, I am Lorgar—I built the Monarchia City, I wrote the sacred texts of the Ecclesiarchy, and I am your new Ecclesiarch." Lorgar stood at the front, arms wide in proclamation.

He was different from other Primarchs—more like Elena, not divine in soul, but with a cosmic beast companion, he was nothing to scoff at.

"Lorgar has been in stasis within the Imperium all these years—the one who fell was just a clone," the Emperor explained.

With the Emperor's endorsement, no one dared question or argue.

"Welcome! Welcome, Primarch!"

"Praise the Imperium, praise the Emperor, praise the Primarch!" The people cheered.

Rhodes smiled at the scene. Once, the greatest worry about returning traitor Primarchs was that the common people could not accept it.

But it turned out, they were the easiest to accept it after all.

Imperial citizens were truly easy to rule!

If the Emperor said it was right, then so it was.

"Welcome, your Holiness, welcome back!" A senior Archbishop was the first to kneel, offering his blessing.

A new Ecclesiarch parachuted in would mean a loss of power for many, but this was the scripture's author, the Emperor's son.

God's will was all that mattered; asking questions was heresy.

Other high Ecclesiarchy members, despite some resentment, dared not object—they knelt together to welcome their new High Priest, their new Ecclesiarch.

"I will lead the Ecclesiarchy to new heights. My gene-sons will form the new Militant Orders of the Faith." Lorgar announced joyfully.

From this moment, he was no longer an imposter—he was the true Primarch.

How pitiful, my true self!

Hahaha, this feeling is wonderful!

It was all Rhodes's gift—no, he is not just my master, he is my god, my one true God. Praise you, Rhodes!

Lorgar felt no gratitude toward the Emperor—all his thanks were for Rhodes.

Rhodes had given him everything, restored him to the Imperium, granted him the glory rightfully his.

Though he had some memories, now he truly felt alive, able to savor existence.

Guilliman and Magnus, standing nearby, sighed. This clone had become a true Primarch.

A fake turned real! What could be more absurd?

…

The enthronement ceremony lasted three days, the main characters parading the streets of Holy Terra.

Lorgar, now Ecclesiarch, was the star of the show.

A few days later, Lorgar returned to the Ecclesiarchy headquarters with his newly formed Militant Orders of the Faith—and 200,000 Battle Sisters, personally assigned by Elena.

The Sisters of Battle were the Ecclesiarchy's finest warriors—none could compare.

With them and his gene-sons, Lorgar now had total control of the Ecclesiarchy.

His next task was simple: train young boys as priests and send them to preach across the worlds of the Imperium.

He would also train Space Marine Chaplains to serve on Imperial ships, spreading the new faith of Warmaster Rhodes, the new Primarchs, and the new age of the Imperium.

After the ceremony, Rhodes visited the palace to meet the Emperor.

"Rhodes, the return of Corvus will need your help," the Emperor said.

Corvus was steeped in Warp energy—he was, in essence, a Daemon Prince. No Primarch could survive ten thousand years in such conditions, without food or drink.

Perhaps his pursuit of traitors and his hatred allowed Chaos to quietly complete his ascension.

The Emperor once intended to leave him there forever—to tie up a Daemon Primarch and keep the Raven Guard loyal.

But now, with Rhodes's cosmic beast able to evolve, they could summon Corvus back.

"Transforming Chaos Space Marines, even Chaos Champions, is hard—let alone a Daemon Prince.

Though Corvus has not replaced his human body, he has awakened his Warp nature. To fully restore him, he must abandon his current form and enter a cloned body." Rhodes explained.

He had discussed this with his scientists—the only way for Corvus to return was to give up his corrupted body and inhabit a new clone.

Cleansing his body with the cosmic beast would take centuries, with at least ten beasts working constantly to purify the Warp taint.

The best solution was to clone a body and transfer the soul.

"You mean Corvus must give up his body and accept a new clone?" the Emperor asked.

"Yes. Using the gene-vaults, we can clone his flesh, just as we did to resurrect Horus. We will need the Avatar of Death's help." Rhodes replied.

His Avatar of Death could now do this—the ultimate end of death is life; that is the true power of the Ynnead.

Reviving Corvus's body did not even require the Goddess of Life—she was busy nurturing the divine child.

"The only obstacle is whether Corvus will accept this," Guilliman said.

He sensed Corvus would be greatly moved by Lorgar's return as Ecclesiarch and would rush back at once.

But this was a tricky matter; it meant Corvus would die once, his soul fully separated from his body.

"It's not that simple. His soul is also tainted by Warp energy and must be evolved by the cosmic beast. This is easier than purifying flesh, and the beast with him can help," Rhodes said.

"I understand. When he returns, I'll tell him everything. He'll choose correctly. Just prepare a cosmic beast for him—a raven type, or one with shadow powers," the Emperor said.

"Don't worry. I'll handle it."

There were plenty of raven or shadow beasts—he could easily pick one for the Raven King.

From the Ultraman universe: the Crow Alien from Tiga, or the ancestral bird monster Teroches from Jack.

Both looked like ravens, and as for shadow powers, that just meant darkness—he had a Dark Emperor beast on hand.

Infusing them with dark energy would make them shadow beasts, then convert them to cosmic beasts. Unlike ordinary citizens, Corvus did not need to be made harmless; darkness was perfect for him.

"Let's do it your way. Rhodes, there's one more thing: when can we resurrect Malcador?" the Emperor asked.

Between Ferrus Manus and Chancellor Malcador, the Emperor ultimately chose to resurrect Malcador.

Malcador's return would benefit the Imperium greatly, and Ferrus's soul could be restored by other means.

Malcador once sat the Golden Throne in the Emperor's place, if only for a day. He faithfully sealed the Webway, keeping the daemons from Holy Terra.

In the end, he sacrificed everything—his soul nearly burned away. The Emperor was left despondent, silent for nearly ten millennia, until Rhodes appeared, cleansed his negative personalities, and restored his humanity.

"At any time!" Rhodes replied.

In a decade, Rhodes had amassed a fortune—in his return to the cosmic beast world, he would strengthen Yapool to the limit, join them in opening a new dimension, and use ten million system coins to push the Avatar of Death to the limit, allowing a perfect resurrection.

He chose Malcador, the former Chancellor—a hero lost ten thousand years ago.

The Avatar of Death's hand glowed grey, death energy flowing through the Imperial Palace.

A force beyond words, beyond vision, filled the palace.

This grey energy reached across time, reconstructing Malcador's vanished soul.

Next, his body reformed. In moments, the resurrection was complete—Malcador stood once more in the palace.

Malcador, newly revived, was dazed. After sitting on the Throne, he had endured unspeakable pain, nearly driven mad.

He did not know how much time had passed, until the Emperor, dragging his broken body, appeared before him. Then his consciousness faded.

"Welcome back, my friend—my Chancellor!" The Emperor's voice was moved as he addressed the old man with staff in hand.

"Emperor! I—I'm alive again!"