Chapter 56: Exterminatus — Let the World Burn
Daemon.
Abomination.
Blasphemy given form.
The Warp echoed with hatred.
Not the usual rage of battle, but something deeper.
Something personal.
A curse carried across the tides of unreality.
Erebus.
Kahaban's voice was barely more than a whisper now.
"…Ere…bus…"
Faint. Broken.
Like something already half-forgotten by existence itself.
Three days.
Three endless days bound in realspace—denied return to the warp, denied dissolution, and denied even the release of death.
What he endured was not pain.
Pain was simple.
This was unmaking.
His howls had echoed across the planet, shaking cities and splitting the minds of mortals who heard them.
He tried not to scream.
He failed.
Again and again.
Kahaban could feel it.
Khorne's gaze—once blazing—had turned away.
Not entirely gone.
But distant.
Cold.
Watching.
Judging.
And something else had intervened.
Something… golden.
Far beyond the battlefield, within the currents of the Warp—
The Emperor of Mankind observed.
For the briefest fraction of a moment—less than a heartbeat, less than a thought—He considered intervening.
Then—
He chose not to.
A veil of psychic will descended instead.
Magnus saw nothing.
Heard nothing.
Nor did the Emperor.
Even He chose… silence.
Blasphemy had limits.
And something here had crossed even them.
Back in reality—
Magnus stood unmoving.
Eyes bloodshot.
Expression hollow.
He slowly gathered the recording devices—arcane constructs and data engines capturing everything that had transpired.
With shaking hands, he sealed them.
Locked them behind layers of psychic wards.
Then—
Moments later—
He broke the seals.
Again.
"Brothers…"
His voice trembled.
"Look."
No one moved.
"Please… just… look…"
The others turned away.
Even Erebus frowned slightly.
Not in guilt.
But in disapproval.
"This," Lorgar said quietly, "serves no purpose."
Even Angron—still breathing heavily from battle—refused.
Perturabo didn't even glance up.
"Destroy them," he said flatly.
Magnus laughed.
A dry, broken sound.
"…No."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Perturabo cleared his throat.
"…The planet is compromised," he said, returning to something solid. Logical. Safe.
"Warp contamination is absolute. Structural collapse of reality is inevitable."
He paused.
"…We should consider full sterilization."
"Exterminatus," Lorgar said.
The word hung in the air like a verdict.
Angron crossed his arms.
"I will give the order."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
Only certainty.
Mercy, in its own brutal form.
Perturabo frowned.
"No."
Angron turned sharply.
"You think I'm unworthy?"
"I think you are predictable," Perturabo replied coldly. "This action carries consequences. Strategic consequences."
"And you think I care?"
"I know you don't."
Tension rose instantly.
Magnus laughed again in the background, clutching his recordings.
Lorgar watched silently.
And then—
Erebus spoke.
"Why argue?"
All eyes turned to him.
He smiled.
"We don't need to choose."
A pause.
Then—
"We can all do it."
Silence.
Then—
Understanding.
Moments later—
Four Primarchs stood before the command console aboard the Conqueror.
Four hands hovered over the controls.
"On my mark," Lorgar said.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
They pressed the activation runes.
Then pressed them again.
And again.
And again.
Cyclonic torpedoes screamed toward the planet below.
Atmospheric ignition.
Crustal destabilization.
Oceans boiled.
Continents cracked.
The world burned.
Erebus stood behind them.
Watching.
Smiling.
And then—
A voice reached him.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
But known.
[You have drawn their attention.]
Erebus's smile widened.
"Good."
He stepped forward—
And slammed his hand against the activation rune repeatedly.
"Burn," he whispered.
Then louder—
"Burn!"
Then laughing—
"Let it all burn!"
Even Lorgar hesitated now.
Watching his brother.
"…Erebus?"
But Erebus only laughed.
"Art," he said softly,"is annihilation."
Within the Warp
Kahaban collapsed into the tides of unreality.
Broken.
Scarred.
Changed.
The markings carved into him remained.
Not on flesh—
But in essence.
On soul.
He clawed at them.
Tore at them.
Tried to burn them away in rivers of warp fire.
Nothing worked.
The Emperor's image remained.
Embedded.
Watching.
Kahaban opened his mouth—
And no sound came.
Then—
A presence.
Familiar.
Terrible.
Khorne.
A command.
Not words.
Not language.
But absolute will.
Find the one.
The mortal touched by Erebus.
The weapon.
Kahaban trembled.
Tears of blood fell into the Warp.
He was not abandoned.
Not yet.
He tried to roar in triumph—
But stopped.
Another command followed.
Sharper.
Colder.
Until your task is complete—
You will not speak my name.
You will not call upon Me.
You will not fail again.
Silence.
Kahaban bowed his head.
Then slowly—
Painfully—
He rose.
One thought remained.
One purpose.
"Erebus…"
And another name—
Spoken with equal hatred.
"Shaeluna."
The Warp trembled.
Vengeance had begun.
End of Chapter
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