Chapter 303: You're Being a Bit Extreme
The bright lights of the reception room shone down upon Hades, casting a faint, hazy halo around his white hair.
Hades swallowed hard.
At last—whether out of resignation or reluctant acceptance—Hades extended his hand.
Across from him, the Emperor smiled, clearly satisfied. He reached out and released the small piece of white bone held between his fingers.
Clink
The sound of bone striking armor was crisp and distinct. Hades stiffened; faint golden flames seemed to flicker along his arm, crackling softly as they burned everything in their path.
Hades blinked, and in the next instant, the flames vanished.
Aside from the fleeting afterimage on his retinas, he felt nothing.
The Emperor withdrew his hand, interlaced his fingers, and rested his chin upon them, watching Hades with interest. For some reason, Hades thought the Emperor looked more spirited than before.
"So… that's all it takes?"
The Emperor nodded.
"You may consume it, or simply keep it."
Hades' hand, cradling the small finger bone, trembled slightly. Wordlessly, he drew his hand back.
"I'll… keep it."
He studied the bone in his palm. It was light, its texture faintly rough like unpolished jade. Other than that, it was an ordinary-looking phalange, with a faint ceramic sheen.
So the Emperor's little finger bone really isn't that different from anyone else's, Hades thought.
He pulled a length of wire from the cables he always carried, one that matched the bone's size and shape, and looped it through the shallow groove in the middle of the bone. Then he tied it around his neck.
It took Hades a bit of effort to fasten it by himself. The Emperor waited silently until he finished. When Hades finally tucked the improvised necklace under his shirt—so that only the B7-model wire was visible—the Emperor spoke.
"I had a cord."
If it were anyone else, Hades would have asked why he hadn't mentioned that earlier. But since it was the Emperor, he decided to be polite.
He forced a thin smile—his way of surrendering to the Emperor's social graces.
"Thank you, but it's no longer necessary."
"I've roughly grasped your plan, Neoth—or at least, for now."
"So, what comes next? We head to the Perfect City… and witness its burning? I should remind you, within Logar's legion, there are—"
"I know."
The Emperor interrupted him. Golden fire blazed in his eyes.
"Every legion harbors Children of the Hidden Threat. I know they exist, but I cannot pinpoint who they are."
"You know who they are, don't you, Hades?"
Hades paused for a moment, then nodded firmly.
"At least some of them. For example, those two bastards hidden in the Word Bearers."
The Emperor smiled faintly.
"They're connected to the worship of the Four Chaos Gods, aren't they?"
Hades looked at him.
"You know…"
"I know fragments of the story. From your hints, I can infer the rest. Before I found Seventeenth, the world where Seventeenth descended—Colchis—already bore traces of Chaos. Logar waged war, claiming he had purged that blasphemy and established worship of me across the entire planet…"
The Emperor's tone was calm.
"But if he has fallen, that means those traces were never truly erased. They merely took on a subtler form, waiting for me to make a mistake."
"That is why you're here, Hades."
Internally, Hades steeled himself, inoculating his mind against what was clearly the prelude to being talked into something.
The Emperor, of course, could not know what he was thinking. He went on:
"Do you think the traces exist on Monarchia as well? Or on the other worlds conquered by the Word Bearers—Davon, Korosa, Uvand…?"
Monarchia—the Perfect City—stood upon the planet known as Khur.
Hades remained silent.
In truth, within the original records, when Lorgar's foster father—the most contemptible man in all the Warhammer universe, Kor Phaeron—persuaded and swayed him, he had personally admitted that he and Erebus had left behind... ashes of culture on the worlds conquered by the Word Bearers.
Of course, those "ashes" referred to the remnants of Chaos-worship once rooted in Lorgar's homeworld, Colchis.
Hades nodded thoughtfully.
"As far as I know, the likelihood is high. You want me to uncover any traces of corruption that might remain in the Perfect City, Neoth?"
The Emperor smiled, confirming Hades's suspicion. He paused briefly before speaking again.
"Before this, I asked my sons what they thought about destroying the Perfect City."
Hades paused.
"And what did they say?"
The Emperor shook his head lightly.
"Nothing original. But in their eyes, beneath their hardened exteriors, I saw fear—they believe me cruel."
Even someone like Russ tried to defend Lorgar.
What amused the Emperor was that, during their discussion, Russ inadvertently revealed that he had read The Lectitio Divinitatus.
Hades interrupted his recollection.
"You feel guilty?"
The Emperor smiled.
"No. The Perfect City was always destined to burn. Seventeenth must realize his mistake, and the burning of Monarchia is both a warning and a protection for him and his Legion."
"Faith untested cannot withstand the storm, Hades."
He spoke the terrifying words as if they were the most natural thing in the world.
"If Seventeenth is truly worthy of the trust I've placed in him, he must accept punishment from me. He must prove his devotion is genuine."
"He must prove he can survive the coming tempest, or I will reduce the size of his Legion."
"I will personally expose the flaws in his faith, reveal his impurities—and you will help me find the evidence… and cut away the rot within his ranks."
Hades pondered for a moment.
"Then it seems we'll need to compare our plans carefully."
"Of course."
. . .
If Hades were to comment on the Emperor's plan, he would say only one thing—it was arrogant. Truly, unbearably arrogant.
But the Emperor had earned the right to be arrogant, and so Hades withheld judgment.
"I suggest you have a proper talk with Guilliman, Neoth."
The Emperor glanced at him.
"Malcador said the same thing."
"You really do need to speak with Guilliman. I don't want to see the Ultramarines—"
"I will."
The Emperor cut him off promptly and decisively shifted the topic.
"Hades, in the story you know, how many traitors were there among the Word Bearers?"
"At least two."
Hades answered at once.
"Good. I understand."
The Emperor's tone was calm, but Hades hesitated.
"Neoth… if we punish those we know to be guilty now, won't others simply rise to take their place?"
"That is inevitable."
"Then—"
"Let them choose as they will."
The Emperor's reply was indifferent.
"Don't let a pebble in the road make you hesitate, Hades. We are about to enter a far grander battlefield. If we cannot save humanity within it—then let the galaxy burn."
…Another madman, Hades thought in despair. Suddenly, in his memory, Mortarion didn't seem quite so extreme after all.
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