Chapter 18: Lorgar — Kill
War came to Colchis like a judgment.
Steel clashed against steel. Bolter fire tore through flesh. Blood soaked the sacred dust of the world. This was not a clean war, nor a glorious one—it was primitive, furious, and absolute. Death cast its shadow across Colchis as the armies of faith collided.
Countless warriors charged beneath the banners of the Emperor of Mankind, led by Lorgar Aurelian himself, crashing into the ranks of the unbelievers.
"For the Emperor!"
"Break them!"
"Cleanse these heretics from the world!"
The good news was obvious: morale burned white-hot.
The bad news was equally clear: discipline was nonexistent.
From his chariot, Erebus stood beside Lorgar, listening to the crude, hateful battle cries of the faithful. Vulgar. Excessive. Passionate.
…He said nothing.
"For the Emperor of Mankind!" Lorgar roared, raising his crozius high.
The cry rolled across the battlefield like thunder.
Erebus felt no joy in it.
Even with his eyes closed, he could feel something vast and terrible watching him—an immense golden presence, silent and judging.
He forced the thought away.
Leaping from the chariot, Erebus drew the longsword Lorgar had gifted him and charged headlong into the enemy line. His blade struck a shield with bone-crushing force, cleaving through ceramite, flesh, and bone in a single stroke.
"Heretic!" Erebus snarled. "Your existence is an insult!"
Beside him, Lorgar fought with raw fury, his voice harsh and unrestrained. Erebus listened—and grimaced. The Primarch was learning… perhaps too well.
"Lorgar!"
A sudden roar split the air.
Erebus turned just in time to see a warrior wreathed in burning crimson charge toward him, screaming Lorgar's name. Warp-fire crawled across the man's armor.
Khorne, Erebus thought coldly. Of course.
"You brainless fanatic," Erebus spat.
He caught the flaming blade with his own, steel grinding against steel. The warp-fire washed over him—and did nothing.
The berserker screamed louder.
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
So much for subtlety.
Erebus leaned forward and roared back, his voice drowning the heretic's chant.
"Your god is nothing! Your rage is empty!"
The crimson glow flickered—just for a moment.
That was enough.
"Die."
Erebus smashed his fist into the man's face. Bone shattered. Blood and brain matter sprayed across the ground as the body collapsed lifelessly at his feet.
Erebus spat onto the corpse.
"Pathetic."
Blessed by Khorne or not, the man was still mortal.
Erebus turned—and saw Lorgar.
The Primarch was surrounded, beset by Chaos devotees radiating warped, multicolored light. He was holding his ground, but barely—overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
"You wretches!" Lorgar bellowed.
"The Emperor curses you!"
"You will rot with your false gods!"
His voice still rang strong.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that he was being boxed in.
Erebus carved his way forward, killing three cultists in seconds.
"Lorgar!" he barked. "Move!"
"I have it under control!" Lorgar snapped.
Erebus scowled.
"You're slow. Sloppy. Are you playing with them?"
Lorgar froze.
"You shame the Emperor," Erebus continued coldly.
The words struck harder than any blade.
"I… I have failed," Lorgar said, voice shaking.
Good. He understands.
"This is war," Erebus said. "Not ritual. Not debate. Kill them, or they kill mankind."
Lorgar dropped to one knee instinctively, beginning a prayer.
Erebus kicked him flat onto his back.
"Idiot! Pray later! Fight now!"
Lorgar surged to his feet, eyes burning.
"My brother," he growled, "let us see who slays more heretics."
"For the Emperor!" Erebus roared.
They charged together.
The tide turned when Jarulek gave the signal.
From the city gates, thirteen colossal statues of the Emperor were dragged into view. Each bore a twisted, chained figure—daemons, bound and crucified upon golden iconography.
Among them was Shaeluna.
Her screams tore through the battlefield.
The Chaos forces faltered.
Erebus stepped forward, pointing his blade at the bound daemons.
"Look upon them!" he shouted.
"This is the truth of your gods!"
"This is the fate they offer you!"
Shaeluna writhed, her voice breaking into desperate shrieks.
"Kill me! End it!"
No pleasure. No ecstasy. Only agony.
Faith shattered across the enemy ranks.
Lorgar moved like a god of war now—unstoppable, merciless. Any who resisted were slain. Any who hesitated were cut down. To mortals, a Primarch was indistinguishable from a god.
Chaos lines collapsed.
Kneeling survivors threw down their weapons.
Erebus approached Lorgar, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"This is a war of belief," he said quietly.
"Either they die… or humanity does."
Lorgar stared at the kneeling heretics. His breath was heavy. His hands trembled.
Then his eyes hardened.
"Kill them," Lorgar said.
And Colchis burned.