"Rhodes, I never expected our plan to succeed. I also never imagined my son would one day be eligible to inherit Chaotic divinity. Seems those four aren't truly immortal.
Their godheads persist, but their wills don't—and the godheads can even choose a new host," the Emperor said.
Fulgrim and the captured Lorgar had been brought to Holy Terra. Rhodes left the rest of Vigilus's cleanup to other Primarchs.
He could play the hands-off overseer—Abaddon, within Chaos, was one of his.
With the Lion, Sanguinius, and Horus together, the Chaos forces on Vigilus would be easily handled.
"I didn't expect Chaos godheads to switch hosts either. That's a major discovery, Father," said Magnus, standing beside the Emperor.
Since returning, Magnus had stayed on Terra, helping relieve the Golden Throne's burden so the Emperor could recover better.
"You told me before that a Chaos godhead chose a new host. I could scarcely believe it—yet here we are," the Emperor said.
He thought of himself—would the Dark King within him depart to seek a new host because it could never be born?
Would it choose one of his sons—or Rhodes?
This had to be handled, or there would be trouble.
"Silence, worms! I am a noble god—I am a true god—the Chaos True God! You cannot treat me like this. Release me!"
Fulgrim howled.
Since the day he betrayed the Emperor, he had never imagined he would re-enter the Imperial Palace—on his knees before the Emperor—an unbearable humiliation.
He had dreamt of invading Terra at the head of countless hosts,
standing proudly before the Golden Throne,
declaring: Father, you were wrong—you don't deserve to lead humanity.
Reality slapped him hard. He was a prisoner; the Emperor, the victor.
With half a Chaos godhead, Fulgrim now saw many things more clearly—how terrifyingly strong his father truly was.
He could sense the abyssal power hidden deep within the Emperor's soul—darkness, despair, and death that could shroud the entire universe.
Ridiculous. Father—so you are a god. A true god.
"Shut up, Fulgrim. I have no son like you.
I still remember our first meeting—what you said to me then. You swore fealty—and your speech moved even me.
I was moved enough to name your Legion the Emperor's Children. And this is how you repaid my trust?" the Emperor asked.
"Spare me. The victor is king, the loser, a cur. I only wanted to hear others call me 'Emperor' for once.
I wanted to enjoy the authority you possessed. What's so wrong with that?" Fulgrim replied.
Magnus bristled with anger. He had betrayed because of a tragic misunderstanding, but this bastard wanted to replace the Emperor.
"If you truly had the ability—if you truly had the strength—I would yield the seat to you.
But you don't. You lack what it takes to lead humanity," said the Emperor.
He had chosen heirs among the Primarchs—Horus and Guilliman. In his design, Horus would lead militarily,
and Guilliman would govern. The other Primarchs would assist—and the Imperium would flourish.
After finishing the Webway project, he would retire and rest—only reappearing for existential threats.
But Chaos ruined everything. The Emperor's gaze shifted to Lorgar, the other captive.
When Lorgar founded Monarchia and preached the Emperor as a god, the Emperor had turned a blind eye.
He knew his Imperial Truth, like Guilliman's Codex Astartes, was toilet paper at the end of the day.
He was, in fact, a god.
He hadn't punished Lorgar for deifying him, but for slowing the Crusade.
Other Primarchs took dozens of worlds a year; Lorgar took one or two—sometimes none.
That, the Emperor could not tolerate—hence Monarchia was destroyed. But he did not obliterate Lorgar's cult—otherwise, the Ecclesiarchy would never have existed.
"Father! You finally see me? Tell me—why let a copy—a clone—take my place?" Lorgar demanded.
"I'm done explaining. You are the clone. Remember—you were grown in a vat by my hand. You weren't born naturally," the Emperor said.
Primarchs bore his and Eldar genes, but were special creations—not naturally born humans.
In essence, much like clones—differing only in their souls.
"I refuse to accept this! What did I do wrong?" Lorgar cried.
"I gave you many chances. When I destroyed Monarchia, I did not kill a single one of your citizens. That was my greatest mercy," the Emperor said.
He had erred in some things—too late to change now.
"Face reality, Lorgar. We don't need his pity," Fulgrim muttered.
"Guards, take Lorgar away. Put him in a cell—next door to Mortarion," the Emperor called.
All eyes turned to Fulgrim. He was the real problem.
"Emperor, next we need to extract the Chaos godhead from him. Once it's removed, he's basically dead," Rhodes said.
"Very well. How do we handle the godhead afterward, Rhodes? It's time to decide," said the Emperor.
"After extraction, we'll purify it—strip away the malice—then I'll choose a suitable host," Rhodes said.
"Rhodes. A Chaos godhead can't be purified. It's the crystallization of the universe's most extreme, despairing emotions.
Unless those emotions vanish, cleanse it a thousand times and it will return a thousand times," the Emperor said.
The negative extremities within a godhead could not be cleansed. If they could, the Four would not be what they are.
"I'm confident. Trust me—I already have one success," Rhodes said.
"...One success? Rhodes, what did you do?" the Emperor asked.
"Emperor, I've been with the Imperium for decades, and the Imperium has flourished.
I resurrected all the Primarchs and empowered them further. Will you trust me this once?" Rhodes asked.
The success was Aisha—but he wouldn't reveal that yet. Not the time.
"..."
The Emperor fell silent for a long time. Since the day Rhodes appeared, he had stood firmly with the Imperium and humanity.
The Imperium's strength had multiplied—new gear, new gene-modified troops.
"Very well, Rhodes. I'll trust you unconditionally this once. But be cautious. If it truly cannot be purified, we'll seal it," the Emperor said.
He'd seen enough since Fulgrim's arrival—Chaos godheads couldn't be destroyed. If no proper handling was found, the godhead would simply pick a new host.
And he didn't want some unknown to be chosen. If Rhodes had confidence, let him try.
He trusted Rhodes wouldn't act recklessly—and if something went wrong, Rhodes would fix it immediately.
"Then let's begin the extraction. I'll need your help, Emperor," Rhodes said.