The lights and shadows on the screen shifted. This time, it didn't showcase the vast starry river or a brutal battlefield, but instead focused on a Planet so beautiful it seemed almost surreal.
[Colchis]
[But this was no longer the home of Erebus, filled with scorpions and yellow sands, or at least not as it once was.]
[This was a pearl reshaped by faith.]
The camera zoomed in, and a city so grand it took the breath away from all viewers appeared on the screen.
It was constructed of white marble, polished gold, and brilliant crystal. Countless spires pierced the clouds, and atop each tower burned the Eternal Flame, symbolizing piety.
The streets were covered in fresh flowers, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of incense.
[Perfect City, the Perfect City.]
[This was the gift the Word Bearers Legion offered to the Emperor, the crystallization of Lorgar Aurelian's purest love for his father.]
The narrator's voice became solemn, carrying a hint of choir-like reverb.
[The Seventeenth Legion, the Word Bearers.]
[They are warriors, but even more so, they are pilgrims.]
[In the ranks of the Great Crusade, their pace of advancement was the slowest.]
[Because for every World they conquered, they were not satisfied with merely planting the Aquila flag of the Empire.]
[They sought to conquer not just the land, but the soul.]
[They would spend years, even decades, burning heretical texts, toppling the idols of false gods, and then building grand temples atop the ruins to sing of the Emperor's divinity.]
[They wanted every compliant subject to love the Master of Terra from the bottom of their hearts with fanatical devotion.]
In the images, Lorgar Aurelian, clad in power armor engraved with golden scriptures, was walking along the grand avenues of Monarchia.
He wore no helmet, and his face, smeared with sacred gold dust, overflowed with an almost childlike happiness and satisfaction.
In this moment, he did not resemble a Primarch commanding ten thousand armies, but rather a child who had just finished his most prized painting, waiting with full anticipation for his father's praise.
[He believed he was winning for his father the most precious thing in this Universe—faith.]
[But he was wrong.]
[The man sitting upon the Golden Throne, the man dedicated to using reason and science to sweep away all superstition, did not need faith.]
[What he needed was—obedience.]
The style of the imagery changed abruptly.
The originally clear sky suddenly darkened, but it wasn't dark clouds; it was steel dreadnoughts that blotted out the sun.
Deep blue livery, white Ultima symbols.
It was the Thirteenth Legion, the fleet of the Ultramarines.
[Devastation arrived.]
The orbital bombardment began.
This was not fire coverage directed at enemy troops; it was the precise dismantling of city architecture.
Lance strikes and cyclone torpedoes fell like rain, accurately shattering those exquisite temples, toppling those grand statues, and blasting the marble walls engraved with hymns into fine powder.
Lorgar's pride, the 'Perfect City,' the fruit of decades of his labor, his gift to his father, turned into a burning ruin before his eyes in just a few short hours.
[This was punishment.]
Above the burning ruins, a hundred thousand Word Bearers warriors, along with their Primarch Lorgar, stood in a daze.
They did not resist.
Because it was a brother Legion, and because the Order came from—the Emperor.
In the dust before them, that golden figure descended.
The Emperor.
He showed none of his usual benevolence, not a shred of warmth. At this moment, he displayed only the coldness and absolute authority of the Emperor of Mankind.
An irresistible psychic pressure bore down like a mountain.
[Kneel.]
It was not a request, not a suggestion, but a command.
It was a psychic decree that made word into law.
In the ruins once called 'Perfect,' a hundred thousand Space Marines, along with their Primarch Lorgar, were forced to kneel in the ashes in humiliating, perfect unison.
[You have failed me, Lorgar.]
The Emperor's voice exploded in the mind of every Word Bearer like thunder.
[I do not need worship. I need warriors.]
[You indulge in false idol worship, which has not only slowed the pace of the Great Crusade but is also spreading the ignorance I view as poison.]
[Of all the Primarchs, you are the only failure.]
Lorgar looked up, and on that face smeared with gold dust, golden tears streamed down his cheeks, washing two harrowing trails through the ash.
His faith, his love, all his efforts—at this moment, the father he regarded as a god had personally trampled them into the mud and ground them under his heel.
And in the shadows behind Lorgar, two figures were leaning close to the Primarch's ear.
They were Kor Phaeron and Erebus.
Those two venomous snakes.
Their voices were very soft, yet more destructive than the orbital bombardment from moments ago.
["Look, My Lord. If he is not a god, why does he use the power of a god to humiliate you?"]
["If he rejects your worship... then, in the depths of this Universe, there are other gods who truly crave and are worthy of your piety."]
Marvel Universe
"Oh please, here we go again. Not even Hollywood films this stuff anymore."
Tony didn't even bother to have Jarvis record the data. He propped his feet up on the conference table, twirling a pen in his hand, his face wearing a bored expression of 'I've seen through the script.'
"This is a standard 'test of faith' trope..."
He analyzed for Captain America and Dr. Banner beside him:
"Look, the script structure is very clear: a son of a god who craves fatherly love, a strict to the point of heartless God-father,"
"Plus two devilish tempters hiding to the side, who look like they have 'I'm a villain' written all over their faces—Erebus and that old guy."
"This is the'setback before the rise' trope."
"The plot now is obvious: although Lorgar is in pain and his faith has collapsed, he will definitely kick those two charlatans away in the end."
"Through this suffering, he will come to realize his father's 'good intentions'—even though those intentions are really crappy."
Tony let out a sneer:
"He will transform from a blind believer into a warrior who truly understands the Emperor's will."
"He might even become one of those tragic heroes who says, 'Even though I don't understand my father, I still love him.'"
"This kind of 'prodigal son returns' drama, I could have written it when I was five."
"It is indeed quite typical."
Captain America Steve Rogers nodded. Although he disliked the Emperor's brutal methods, he agreed with the logic.
"This is a trial. Like Job in the Bible."
"Suffering is meant to temper faith."
"Lorgar seems like a good kid; he won't betray his father just because he suffered a little grievance."
"The light in his eyes hasn't gone out yet."
Thunder God Thor added,
"That is awe for a father."
"I recognize that look. Loki sometimes looks at Odin that way too."
"He just wants recognition; he won't really go and take an enemy as his father."
DC Universe
"Heh, utterly boring."
Constantine exhaled a thick ring of smoke, his eyes full of disdain, as if watching a clumsy rural sermon.
"I've seen this script hundreds of times in second-rate theaters in Hell."
"A priest encounters a crisis of faith, and the devils take the opportunity to peddle their second-hand goods."
"But look at that Lorgar, look at his eyes."
Constantine pointed at Lorgar's eyes, which were still pious despite the tears, even carrying a hint of masochistic obsession.
"That's a stubborn one. People like that are hard for devils to truly tempt."
"He's crying now, but in his heart, he's probably thinking, 'Oh, God, you are punishing me to make me purer.'"
"These masochistic fanatics are the hardest to deal with."
"Even if those two snakes talk until their lips are worn out, Lorgar will likely end up becoming an even more extreme fanatical inquisitor, something like a'Scourge of God.'"
Wonder Woman Diana sighed: "This is still a tragedy."
"The Emperor destroyed the love in a child's heart just to get a tool. But... as long as he doesn't fall, this is a hero's trial."
Hellsing Universe
"Fantastic! Fantastic! This is exactly what I wanted to see!"
The Major of Millennium was dancing for joy in the airship's command room, his obese body trembling with excitement.
"This isn't a blow! This is tempering! Like forging the finest bayonet!"
The Major pointed at Lorgar kneeling in the ashes on the screen and shouted at Warrant Officer Schrödinger:
"Do you see?"
"That Emperor, he is creating a true madman! Ordinary faith is weak, but faith that still exists after being burned by fire and trampled by a god himself—that is the most terrifying weapon!"
"That Lorgar! He looks like a stray dog now, but just you wait!"
"He will stand up! He will become a monster like that Father Anderson!"
"He will burn the entire Universe to ashes for the sake of the god who humiliated him! Because for a fanatic, the god's whipping is also a blessing! Hahahaha!"
Father Anderson gripped the bayonets in his hands, looking at Lorgar on the screen, his eyes actually showing a hint of sympathy and recognition:
"Amen."
"If this is God's will, then suffering is the ladder to the Holy Throne."
"Child, do not listen to the whispers of those two snakes."
"Hold on, your pain will transform into a blade to slay heretics."
In their eyes, this was merely the prelude to the creation of a 'God's Bayonet.'
Super Gene Universe
"Hypocritical Order."
The Demon Queen Morgana looked at the screen and let out an unmasked sneer.
"That Emperor clearly enjoys the status of a god, yet insists on pretending to be a mortal. What good does it do him to drive this kid crazy?"
But then, she changed her tune:
"Though this kid is also a stubborn one."
"Look at him, kneeling there crying like a little girl."
"People like him don't have the guts to rebel. He'll definitely end up going back to be his daddy's dog, just a crazier one."
Holy Keisha sat upon her throne, her gaze calm as water.
"This is a necessary correction."
She commented indifferently, "Though the methods are crude, the Emperor is correcting a mistaken ideology. Blind personality cults are poison to civilizational development."
"Lorgar is experiencing labor pains. But these pains will clear his mind."
"He will understand that justice does not need idols, only Order."
"He will become a more steadfast enforcer of Order, because he has lost everything and has nothing left but Orders."
And in the Death Song Academy, the God of Death Karl put down his quill, observing Lorgar's data stream with great interest.
"Interesting. So-called 'faith' is actually an extremely unstable mental energy circuit."
Karl whispered to himself:
"The Emperor is trying to cut this circuit, but he doesn't seem to realize that mental energy is conserved."
"When a massive object of faith disappears, this enormous energy will not dissipate; it will... seek a new carrier."
"However, according to conventional Void theory deductions, this individual's self-awareness is too strong, and his dependence on his 'father' is too deep."
"He will most likely use self-hypnosis to reconstruct a logical closed loop of 'Father is testing me.'"
Even a scholar like Karl judged based on conventional logic: Lorgar would not betray, but would only become more extremely loyal.
Warhammer World
Just like the viewers from other Worlds, the Primarchs within the Throne Room reached strikingly similar conclusions.
"Ha! Poor Lorgar."
Russ laughed loudly, but there wasn't much worry in his laughter; instead, it was more of a relaxed amusement, even carrying a hint of 'I knew it' satisfaction.
"I knew Father would teach him a lesson. That city looked too sissy, not at all like a place where war is waged."
"But honestly, this is too cliché."
Russ shook his head, took a large swig from his cup, and pointed at Erebus behind Lorgar:
"What are those rats called Erebus doing?"
"They think they can subvert a Primarch with a few whispers?"
"That is our brother! Though he's a softie, his love for Father is genuine."
"He won't betray."
Russ reached a firm conclusion.
"He's like a dog that's been kicked by its Master; he'll just tuck his Tail and whimper, then bark even louder next time to please the Master."
"This is a reshaping."
Rogal Dorn looked at the screen, giving his precise and cold engineering-like analysis.
"Father is striking a piece of bent iron. Although the methods are crude, the logic holds up."
"Lorgar's faith was too fragile; it had to be shattered before it could be reforged into steel-like loyalty."
Dorn turned to look at Guilliman beside him, his tone certain:
"Roboute, although this is hard for you, it is also a form of 'insurance.'"
"Insurance?"
Guilliman looked at the version of himself on the screen destroying the Perfect City and felt a strong sense of discomfort, but he forced himself to listen.
"Yes, insurance," Dorn continued.
"Think about it. Father cannot foresee the future; he doesn't know who will betray."
"Rational loyalty can be overturned by logic."
"But this... fanatical devotion based on fear and awe, rebuilt after being destroyed, is unshakable."
"After experiencing this blow, Lorgar will realize the error of blind worship. He will reject the temptations of those two treacherous ministers because he was just punished by a 'god'; he won't dare to act out again."
"He will become Father's most loyal son."
Lion El'Jonson interjected coldly,
"A machine that no longer thinks, only knowing how to execute 'purge heretic' Orders. This is exactly what Father needs—a hound that doesn't need a brain, only teeth."
"Exactly."
Perturabo let out a cold snort.
"Just like the saints in those religious stories."
"Suffering, temptation, rejection, sublimation."
"Isn't this what Father wanted?"
"An unlikable but absolutely obedient fanatic tool."
All the Primarchs present, including the wisest Guilliman and the most perceptive Sanguinius, fell into a trap called 'common sense.'
They looked at the crying golden man on the screen, and at the two'snakes' whispering beside him.
They all took it for granted: this was the climax of the story, the moment of the hero's suffering.
Next, Lorgar would awaken in pain, slay the treacherous sycophants beside him, wipe away his tears, and become the most heartless yet sharpest sword in the Emperor's hand.
No one—not a single person—dared to imagine another possibility.
What if this wasn't called'suffering,' but 'the break'?
What if that child didn't choose to wipe his tears, but chose... to burn the entire Milky Way Galaxy to ashes to be buried with him?
What if he really listened to the words of that snake and went to find the 'true gods'?
Such a thought was too insane, too sacrilegious, so much so that at this moment, it couldn't even enter the minds of these demigods.
They just watched quietly, waiting for that 'cliché' but 'reasonable' happy ending.
Only the Emperor, in his eternal silence on the throne, had his golden eyes reflecting his son kneeling in the ashes, and... the future filled with blood and betrayal that was about to begin.