The screen dimmed once more, but this time it did not light up immediately. Instead, a line of blood-red subtitles, like a scar, emerged.
[The next story is about a name.]
[We cannot finish telling his life story here, for it spans the entire duration of the Great Heresy.]
[He was the original heretic, the hand of fate, and the starting point of all tragedies.]
[If Horus was the Warhammer swung at the Empire, then this man was the toxic hand pushing the hammer from the shadows.]
[His name is—Erebus.]
The screen lit up, no longer showing the vast starry sky, but a dry, hot, desert Planet filled with a religious atmosphere—Colchis.
That was Lorgar's home World, but before Lorgar had descended upon it.
The camera focused on a poor village.
The audience saw a young boy playing with scorpions in the sand.
His eyes were sinister, and he was idle and shiftless.
He wasn't observing nature; he was enjoying the pleasure of torturing life—he pulled off the scorpion's legs one by one, watching it struggle in agony.
That was the boy's daily routine.
He was lazy, greedy, and craved something for nothing.
His parents despaired of him, always pointing to the model child next door—who was diligent, pious, and studied the scriptures hard—shouting at him:
"Why can't you be like Erebus?"
That model child's name was Erebus.
["You're right, mother."]
On the screen, a chilling smile curled at the corners of that wicked boy's mouth.
["Why can't I become Erebus?"]
The scene turned dark.
On a night known to no one, the wicked boy took a rope and quietly slipped into his neighbor's house.
There was no hesitation, no trembling, only a morbid excitement.
He strangled the real, pious Erebus to Death.
Then, he stripped the dead boy's clothes, took his identity documents, and even imitated the deceased by carving scriptures representing faith onto his own face.
He left the village.
From then on, the idle rogue disappeared, replaced by a seemingly incredibly pious young priest named "Erebus."
[This was the beginning of it all. Not a grand oracle, not a tragic sacrifice.]
[But a base murder and a stolen name.]
[He was a venomous scorpion in a saint's skin. He did not need to be corrupted by Chaos, because he—was born of Chaos.]
The scene fast-forwarded.
Lorgar descended, and The Emperor descended.
While everyone else was overwhelmed by The Emperor's Sun-like radiance, kneeling and weeping in worship, Erebus, mingled in the crowd, had only cold calculation in his eyes.
He did not see a god; he saw an opportunity.
He joined the Word Bearers Legion and became the First Chaplain.
He exploited Lorgar's desire for divinity, bit by bit—like ink dripping into clear water—re-instilling that ancient faith forbidden by The Emperor into his Primarch.
[If Lorgar was searching for the truth, then Erebus was weaving lies.]
The scene changed again, moving to a human civilization World named "Interex."
It was a peaceful interlude during the Great Crusade; Horus had originally intended to coexist peacefully with this civilization.
But in the shadows of the museum, Erebus's face, carved with scriptures, looked exceptionally hideous.
He stole a xenos daemon blade named the "Anathame."
This blade ignited the fires of war, destroyed the possibility of peace, and became the poisonous sting aimed at the Warmaster's heart.
Next were the swamps of the Planet Davin.
Horus, wounded by the daemon blade, this demigod-like Warmaster, was lying on a sickbed, his life hanging by a thread.
Imperial technology was helpless against it, for the wound was on a soulful level.
At this moment, Erebus stepped forward.
With a sorrowful face and tears in his eyes, he made a suggestion to the anxious Sons of Horus:
"Take him to the temple. It is the only salvation."
[That was not salvation; that was a sacrifice.]
In the scene, the massive Serpent Temple was eerie and terrifying.
Under Erebus's presiding, a profane ritual began.
And in a comatose dream, Erebus showed Horus a "future": a future without a Warmaster, where The Emperor was worshipped as a god.
He whispered suspicions, fears, and the temptations of power into Horus's ear at his most vulnerable moment.
["Look, Warmaster. Your father has abandoned you. He wants to become a god, and you are his stumbling block."]
["Only you can save humanity. As long as you accept this power..."]
The screen froze at that moment: the temple doors were tightly shut, and inside, the greatest hero of the Milky Way Galaxy was being led step by step into the abyss of eternal damnation by a petty man who had stolen another's name.
-- [Warhammer World] "Damn it... you damn bastard!!!"
A roar of violent rage shattered the air.
Horus Lupercal, the Warmaster of the Empire, was currently staring fixedly at the screen, his eyes bloodshot, and the wine glass in his hand had been crushed into powder.
He had always thought that his fall (if it were truly to happen in the future) would at least be for some grand reason, some irresistible tragedy.
But now, the screen told him: he had been played like a fool by a petty thug who stole someone else's name!
"Anathame... Davin... Temple..."
Horus gasped for air, the sense of shame from being deceived more unbearable than any pain. He snapped his head around, his gaze searching like a torch through the crowd for that figure.
"Erebus! Get out here!"
And within the ranks of the Word Bearers, Lorgar Aurelian's expression was currently worse than if he were crying.
He looked at the boy on the screen who strangled his neighbor and stole his identity, feeling his World spin.
"You are... a liar?"
Lorgar's voice trembled as he looked at the First Chaplain beside him, the man he had always relied on and even regarded as a spiritual mentor. "You aren't even the real Erebus? You're just a... murderer? A rogue?"
"The doctrines I believe in, the faith of my Legion... are actually built upon the lies of a thief?!"
For Lorgar, who pursued truth, this "foundational falsehood" was the most fatal blow to his faith.
Inside the hall, countless gazes filled with killing intent instantly locked onto that figure.
Khârn had already drawn his chainaxe, Angron let out a Beast-like low growl, and even the calmest Guilliman and Dorn had eyes burning with a rage that wanted to tear this petty man into a thousand pieces.
Standing in a corner of the crowd, Erebus's face was now as pale as paper.
His proud eloquence was useless in the face of the absolute truth.
"That... that was just..." He tried to explain, but his voice was trembling.
Suddenly, he turned sharply and crushed an amulet carved with evil runes in his hand.
The energy of the Warp began to fluctuate as he tried to tear open a rift to escape!
"Seize him!"
The Captain-General of the Custodes, Valdor, roared and charged out like golden lightning.
But faster than the Custodes was a grand, cold, golden will vast enough to crush the stars.
[Kneel.]
This voice did not come from the air but exploded directly in the depths of Erebus's soul.
"Aaaaaah!"
Erebus shrieked as the Warp energy he had just gathered was instantly crushed to powder.
He felt as if a great mountain had been placed on his back; his knees slammed heavily onto the floor of the Throne Room, the sound of bones shattering clearly audible.
An invisible psychic hand, like picking up a foul insect, lifted him from the ground into mid-air.
Upon the Golden Throne, The Emperor slowly opened his eyes.
There was no anger in those eyes, only an absolute indifference, as if looking at a piece of filthy waste.
[You were quite pleased with yourself while watching these messages of the future, weren't you?]
The Emperor's voice echoed in the hall, every word accompanied by golden psychic lightning that lashed at Erebus's soul.
[Pleased that you were the manipulator of fate? Pleased that you could play demigods in the palm of your hand?]
Erebus struggled desperately in mid-air, a wheezing sound coming from his throat; fear caused him to soil himself, and his disguise was completely stripped away.
[But do you know?]
The Emperor's will, like a red-hot knife, stabbed into Erebus's brain, forcibly flipping through his filthy life.
[You thought you were clever? You thought your calculations were sound?]
[Foolish. If Those Four things had not been hiding you from behind, if the Chaos Gods had not wanted to use you as a perfect vessel... you would not have even been able to live long enough to take one step into my Empire.]
[You are not a player, Erebus. You don't even count as a pawn. You are merely a smear of dust on the board meant to disgust people.]
The Emperor extended a finger and tapped lightly.
[So, die.]
But this was not merely Death.
[No, Death is too kind for you.]
A cluster of golden fire, composed purely of The Emperor's psychic energy, ignited upon Erebus's body.
"Aaaaaaaah!!! Kill me!! I beg you!! Kill me!!!"
Erebus let out the most piercing scream a human could possibly produce.
That fire did not destroy his flesh; instead, it bit by bit, meticulously and endlessly scorched his soul and nerve endings.
[This flame will not be extinguished.]
The Emperor pronounced the sentence coldly.
[It will burn forever. As long as I sit on this throne for one day, as long as my will exists for one second, you will suffer in this fire.]
[You will become a lamp. A lamp that warns all traitors and conspirators.]
With a wave of The Emperor's hand, that figure—burning with golden flames and twisting frantically in extreme agony—was fixed onto a pillar in the Throne Room, like a living, eternally screaming torch.
The hall fell into a dead silence.
Whether Primarch or mortal, they all looked with awe at that eternally burning flame and the petty man within it who once thought he could manipulate fate but now could not even beg for Death.
[Marvel Universe]
"Wow."
Loki let out a heartfelt exclamation, looking at Erebus with a gaze that actually carried a hint of... professional appreciation.
"I have to admit, although it's crude, it's really effective."
Loki shrugged. "No magic, no superpowers, just relying on lies, disguises, and saying the right thing at the right time to destroy a demigod and even a galactic empire."
"It's practically a textbook operation for a 'God of Mischief.' Although... this guy has no style at all."
"He's not mischief, brother."
Thunder God Thor gripped his hammer, his face full of disgust. "He is pure venom. He has no honor, no bottom line. He's like a venomous snake hiding in the grass, specifically biting the heels of heroes."
"The scariest part is," Captain America said in a heavy voice, "this kind of person is often harder to deal with than a supervillain. Because before you even realize it, he's already standing behind you, pretending to be your best friend."
[DC Universe]
Constantine exhaled a puff of smoke, a look of disdain appearing on his face.
"I just hate this kind of colleague."
He grumbled, "Making the craft of'selling your soul' look so cheap."
"Selling the whole Universe just for a bit of power and some bullshit grace from the Chaos Gods?"
"Even the demons in Hell would despise a traitor like this."
[Three-Body World]
"No matter which Universe it is, destruction is always much easier than construction."
Luo Ji looked at the screen and let out a long sigh.
"The Emperor spent thousands of years and the sacrifices of countless people to establish the prototype of an empire."
"And this petty man only needed a stolen blade and a few slanders to make it all fall apart."