The breathing from within the door was unmistakably Father's breath — yet why...
Mortarion stood frozen at the threshold, his hand slowly reaching out to push the door open. He could clearly sense that the aura within was not quite the same as Nyx's — this was a deeper, weightier connection, as though blood itself roared in silence. The moment this singular entity had appeared within the room, it had proclaimed itself his true father.
And in that instant — when he heard the exchange between Nyx and the Emperor — Mortarion's mind seemed pierced by an invisible force.
The countless knowledges slumbering in the depths of his genes erupted forth. The truth of the Imperium, and of himself — which Nyx had concealed — flooded his consciousness in a fevered tide.
...I... I am the gene‑sire of the Imperium's XIV Legion...
The searing pain of this informational cascade nearly overwhelmed him. Yet Mortarion forced himself to remain conscious. He carefully set down the breakfast he had prepared for Nyx, placed it neatly by the door, then turned and walked — step by step — away from the room.
...Nyx is not my father.
He is my... brother?!
Mortarion's emotions were in turmoil. He needed to calm himself. To think. To understand how to conduct himself with Nyx from now on.
Within the room, the Emperor and Nyx remained unaware of the movement beyond the door. They continued their discussion of Barbarus's future.
"So — what support can you offer this time?"
Nyx asked, then immediately caught the Emperor turning His face aside. "...Don't tell me. You're going to leave me to handle this again."
The Emperor did not answer. He simply inclined His head.
"Seriously? You're actually using me as a labourer?"
Nyx's voice rose slightly. "Do you have any idea what kind of environment Barbarus is? Nurgle is learning from Tzeentch, cooking up some secret scheme — and you're leaving me to deal with it alone?!"
"Forgive me."
The Emperor finally spoke. "The only assistance I can offer is to lead the XI Legion to your location. My ontology, at present..."
"Yeah, yeah. Thirty years, right."
Nyx cut him off, his voice heavy with the weariness of one who has ceased to argue. "If you can't get away, just say so..."
Child Horus — actually my most beloved son. As for Mortarion — who cares?
Nyx was practically ready to give up entirely. Sometimes, he even felt that sheltering in Chaos might be more suitable for someone like him, who just wanted to mess around... But then he thought of his other brothers, and the notion quickly dissipated.
The Emperor truly had Nyx pinned. He had calculated that Nyx could not stand idly by while his brother sank into Chaos.
"...Fine."
Nyx finally relented. "Help me contact Arthas. I need to speak with them personally."
The Emperor inclined His head slightly. The next moment, majestic psychic energy erupted around Him. The rift between reality and the Warp abruptly tore open. A golden pillar of light pierced the void, reaching the Typhon — which was still silently seeking Nyx across the universe.
"Ahem — can you hear me?!"
Nyx's phantom projected onto the Typhon's bridge. The Star Warden warriors, having sensed the disturbance in their psychic energy, had immediately reported it. In less than half a minute, every available soldier of the XI Legion had assembled there.
Father... That is our father!
Many warriors' eyes grew hot the moment they beheld Nyx's phantom. After long searching and waiting, they had finally received news of their gene‑sire once more.
"My children. I know you have missed me..."
"I have now embedded course coordinates into the Typhon's systems."
Nyx's voice echoed through the vessel via psychic energy. "I command you: proceed at full speed to these coordinates. Immediately activate my pre‑established Protocol N."
The words fell. The phantom abruptly dissipated.
Just as all were once again enveloped in loss — the figure flickered and reappeared.
"One more thing!"
He paused. His gaze fell upon the First Captain.
"Arthas!"
"I am here, Father!"
Arthas stepped forward under the burning gazes of all around him.
"Prepare soap and perfume. Bring as much as you can carry."
This time, the phantom vanished completely.
Aboard the Typhon, every eye turned to Arthas.
Bring back the Space King!
None knew who first cried out from the crowd. Suddenly, all the gazes fixed upon Arthas took on an ill intent. Many of them had joined the 'Universal Council' promoted by the Captain, and were, to varying degrees, influenced by the so‑called 'Space King Doctrine'.
Why is he the only one who can speak privately with Father? Even the First Captain must be virtuous!
Jealousy recognises no bounds — not even among Astartes. Just as the commotion was about to spread, the artificial intelligence Nyx had installed manifested in the form of Celestine's projection.
Immediately thereafter, every soldier who had participated in the disturbance — and even those who had covertly fanned the flames — together with the four principal culprits, including the Captain, received a course of electrotherapy.
...Lord Nyx... Why have you gone away again...
A rare melancholy coloured the artificial intelligence's thoughts.
Within the room, Nyx's consciousness returned to reality. The Emperor's figure was fading before his eyes — He was departing once more.
"When do you plan to formally meet Mortarion this time?"
Nyx asked.
"...After you... after you have reclaimed this world..."
The Emperor's response was fragmented. At last, He faded entirely, along with His form.
Nyx said nothing more. He rose, pushed open the door, and stepped out.
The moment the door opened, he saw the familiar meal on the floor.
...No. It can't be.
His body went rigid. His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty. Several beads of cold sweat traced down his brow almost immediately.
...If that stubborn brother of mine overheard that conversation...
...Then I might as well pick out my gravesite right here on Barbarus.
...Ah, well. What must be, must be.
"Brother Bug. Go distribute the newly crafted weapons."
Nyx simply turned away — sooner or later, he would have to face this. Die early, respawn early. Besides, he had helped Mortarion so much. Surely his brother wouldn't actually kill him, right?
...Nyx thought about it carefully. Given Mortarion's temperament... it seemed entirely possible. Wasn't Old Man Huang, sitting on the Golden Throne in the future, a living example?
His thoughts raced, but his hands never stopped. Over the past few days, he had produced nearly five hundred 'shootas', one hundred 'big shootas', and two hundred 'choppas'. All were now being distributed.
He still remembered Brother Bug's hands during production — they moved so fast they left afterimages.
Of course, all of the above was purely the hooligan's voluntary labour. Nyx had absolutely not accelerated the process with any external force or physical incentive whatsoever.
"Brother Bug. Stay here and teach them how to use these."
Nyx's tone was casual. Yet his feet remained rooted to the spot, as though welded to the ground.
"I'm going to find Mortarion."
His iron self‑control was betrayed by his previously unprecedented, glacial pace.
...Kid. Do you think I'll live to see tomorrow's sun?
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