Chapter 61: The Emperor — I'm Actually Good at This
"You know I'm retired."
The man standing before the Emperor spoke calmly.
He wore a simple military coat—old Terran pattern, unremarkable, worn by time rather than war. There was nothing grand about him.
Nothing divine.
And yet—
The Emperor of Mankind did not smile.
Their relationship had long since cooled. Old comrades did not always remain friends. Time had a way of eroding even the strongest bonds.
That was something the Emperor understood better than anyone.
But this time—
It was different.
"Oll Persson is not who he once was," the Emperor said quietly.
He chose his words carefully.
Measured.
Deliberate.
If logic failed—
Perhaps memory would succeed.
Oll Persson snorted.
"Do you think I still believe you, Neoth?"
The Emperor fell silent.
Then, with a faint gesture—
The Custodians withdrew.
The chamber emptied.
Only two remained.
"The fate of mankind—" the Emperor began.
"You told me that before."
Oll Persson's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You told me that last time. And the time before that."
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Unimpressed.
"When was the first time you lied to me?"
The Emperor said nothing.
Oll raised the small, worn symbol hanging at his chest.
A crude cross.
Ancient Terran.
"Let me remind you," Oll said flatly.
"The first time? You told your wife you were out fighting enemies of humanity."
A pause.
"You were drinking. With me."
Silence.
"And when she came looking for you?"
Oll's expression darkened.
"You used your psychic tricks to show her a battlefield."
"We were young," the Emperor replied.
Oll barked a laugh.
"Don't insult me."
Then his eyes hardened.
"And the Eldar?"
That word lingered.
The Emperor exhaled slowly.
"You told me," Oll continued, "you had 'captured two alien maidens.'"
A long pause.
"…I have never been the same since."
The Emperor opened his mouth—
Closed it.
"…They were… persistent," he said at last.
Oll stared at him.
"…Seventy-two times," Oll said flatly.
"Seventy-two."
The Emperor raised a hand.
A flicker of psychic force sealed Oll's mouth—
Briefly.
Then released.
"Things are different now," the Emperor said.
They stood there.
Facing one another.
For a long time.
"I'm retired," Oll said again.
The Emperor nodded once.
"You've been recalled."
"…You don't have that authority."
"I do."
For the first time—
There was steel in the Emperor's voice.
"Oll Persson."
The name carried weight.
"This time," the Emperor said, "I have found a way to deal with Chaos."
Oll did not respond.
"But I need someone," the Emperor continued, "to watch over… a variable."
"…Erebus," Oll said immediately.
The Emperor didn't deny it.
"That man," Oll muttered, "is worse than anything you've ever unleashed."
"Yes," the Emperor agreed.
A pause.
"…Exactly."
Oll sighed.
"I'm retired."
And this time—
The Emperor didn't argue.
Meanwhile—Terra, Administrative Disaster Zone
"Father's back!"
Ahzek Ahriman burst into the chamber like a man reborn.
Behind him—
Kor Phaeron followed more slowly.
Then both men stopped.
They looked at the room.
And the room…
Looked back.
Documents.
Endless documents.
Stacks.
Mountains.
Oceans.
Seals of the Adeptus Administratum littered the floor.
Requests.
Reports.
Complaints.
Requisitions.
Kor Phaeron slowly removed his helmet.
"…We're going to die," he said.
Ahriman blinked.
"No," he said confidently. "Now that Father has returned, everything will be fine."
Kor Phaeron stared at him.
Long.
Hard.
"…You haven't read a single document, have you?"
Ahriman hesitated.
"…That's not my specialty."
Kor Phaeron sighed deeply.
"I outsourced everything," he admitted.
"…To whom?"
"…Everyone."
Ahriman looked around again.
"…That explains nothing."
Kor Phaeron pointed at a pile stamped with Terra's highest administrative seals.
"That explains everything."
Silence.
"…We wait for Erebus," Kor Phaeron said decisively.
Ahriman nodded.
"Yes."
Both men paused.
Then—
"…Let's make ourselves look worse," Ahriman suggested.
Minutes later—
The doors opened.
Garrulek froze.
Before him stood two broken men.
White hair.
Sunken eyes.
Dark circles.
Expressions of utter despair.
"…My lords?" Garrulek said carefully.
"You were fine ten minutes ago."
Two hands landed on his shoulders.
"We will speak highly of you," Kor Phaeron said gently.
"Or," Ahriman added softly, "we all perish together."
Garrulek broke instantly.
"I serve Lord Erebus faithfully!"
"Good," Kor Phaeron said.
The Return
The Primarchs had returned.
That alone shook Terra.
And so—
Rogal Dorn came to greet them.
He stood tall.
Golden armor gleaming.
Perfect.
Unyielding.
Then he saw them.
And paused.
Slowly—
His expression changed.
"…What am I looking at?"
The four figures approaching him—
Looked like heretics.
Holy scripts.
Relics.
Golden effigies.
Even a crude representation of the Golden Throne hung like decoration.
Dorn inhaled slowly.
Then stepped forward.
"Dorn!"
Erebus strode forward enthusiastically.
Dorn stepped back.
"Stop."
A beat.
"I do not know you."
"…That's hurtful," Erebus said.
"I brought you a gift," he continued brightly.
"…From Perturabo."
Dorn froze.
"…Explain."
Erebus opened a metal case.
Inside—
A golden fist.
Its middle finger raised.
Silence.
"…He said," Erebus added helpfully, "this represents his feelings."
Dorn closed the case.
Very carefully.
"…I see."
A long pause.
"…Anything else?"
"Oh yes," Erebus said cheerfully.
"I also brought his adoptive father—and his sworn brothers."
Dorn blinked.
"They wish to serve the Imperium."
Silence.
Then—
Dorn smiled.
A rare thing.
"…Tell me more," he said.
Because suddenly—
This gift—
Had become very interesting.
End of Chapter
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