Chapter 121
Trazyn's intervention looked, on the surface, like betrayal—freezing Cadia's last command hall and stealing it whole.
But in truth, it was a kind of loyalty in disguise.
Perhaps, in some future crisis, he would put Lord Creed back into play to "save the day."
Such was loyalty in the 41st Millennium: bizarre, twisted, and often indistinguishable from treachery.
Even a Necron could, in his own way, end up serving the Imperium.
In Warhammer 40K, all things eventually bend toward loyalty—or the road to it.
And so, Cadia's story ended.
Its people were bound to vanish into the long, cruel tide of history, like so many before them.
Even the Emperor Himself might have been moved by their sacrifice. They were not the perfect humans He had once dreamed of shaping… but they were among the closest.
Well—so long as you dragged out every last Ecclesiarch and shot them. The Emperor had little fondness for the state religion that deified Him.
He preferred the old Imperials, like Captain Wade, who had never forgotten the truth of the Imperium during the days of the Great Crusade.
Perhaps that blessing of the Emperor was why Erebus finally met his end. Or perhaps it was simply fate—destined for the traitor to fall.
Cornered in a collapsing hive city, the First Chaplain of the Word Bearers was caught at last. His escape cut off, the killing fields raging around him, Erebus stood trapped at a dead-end alley.
"Erebus!"
Captain Wade's breath was ragged, but the Space Wolves at his side pressed forward, weapons ready.
"Are you ready," Wade spat, "to face judgment for every crime you've committed?"
"Judgment?" Erebus sneered. The runes carved across his face writhed with dark power.
"Followers of false gods have no right to judge me. Only the true gods decide my fate."
"You're stubborn to the end," one of the Wolves growled. "Then die without trial."
They opened fire. Bolts and las-beams cracked across his power armor, blasting craters into its surface.
Erebus tried to flee through a ruined wall.
But this time, he had no chance.
Thoros, the demi-human giant, surged forward. His massive hand clamped over Erebus's head and slammed him to the ground with crushing force. Six meters of muscle and strength held the traitor fast.
Erebus clung desperately to the giant's wrist, trying to push back. But Thoros could crush Dreadnought armor. Holding Erebus was child's play.
"Good work, demi-human!" Wade barked.
The Wolves moved in, bolt pistols aimed at the fallen Chaplain's head.
"Your dark gods won't save you now, Word Bearer."
They had waited ten millennia for this moment. For the betrayer who had poisoned Horus, who had damned half the Legions, to finally face Imperial wrath.
Bolters roared.
Erebus's head burst apart in a spray of gore. Half his skull gone in an instant. They didn't stop there. Shot after shot hammered into his body until nothing recognizable remained.
"Erebus is dead at last," Wade breathed. "Next is Lorgar."
The Wolves' eyes burned. Killing Lorgar would be harder—he was still locked in struggle with Corvus Corax—but the Word Bearer Primarch's day would come.
A rumble shook the ground. The battle raged on around them, demons and traitors pressing ever harder. Wade forced himself to calm.
Erebus might not stay dead. He was favored of the Four, and the gods could easily raise him again. But for now, one traitor's body lay broken.
The loyalists turned back to the front.
Godzilla, too, was preparing to leave.
But as he gazed across Cadia's burning plains, a strange reluctance stirred in him.
'I kinda want this planet.'
[If you want it, then want it. But stop sounding like an Ork while you say it.]
'I'm serious. Cadia's already deep in the Warp. Can't my Warp-self claim it? Make it my domain?'
[Theoretically yes. But I've warned you—collecting worshippers is poison for Godzilla.]
'Easy fix. I won't accept worship. I'll just… let them do it on their own.'
On Cadia, the people were desperate. In their final moments, many prayed—some to the Emperor, some to any god who would listen.
The faithful knelt before stained-glass windows, whispering: "God-Emperor, save us."
But others, without realizing, looked up at the towering silhouette of Godzilla instead.
"God… I don't want to die yet."
That simple plea, carried on the tides of the Warp, reached him. And from it, a new cult was born.
The first sparks of Godzilla Worship.
Not that the galaxy needed another religion. In the Imperium, there were already too many.
Cadia had fallen. The Eye of Terror swallowed it whole. Subspace bled through every stone and every soul.
Psychers, even the weakest, began to hear whispers in their minds.
Mundane humans found it harder to breathe, their bodies twisting slowly into warped husks.
The end had come.
Isis, standing by, whispered softly: "My god is leaving."
Indeed, Godzilla turned away. His mission here was finished. Whether he returned to his world or set his claws upon another, Cadia was no longer his battlefield.
In his absence, the Warp Godzilla would claim what was left.
Meanwhile, Abaddon moved quickly.
"Warmaster, we must strike now," a Tzeentchian sorcerer urged. "I foresee the Thirteenth Primarch awakening soon—the one most favored by my father—"
His words were cut short as Abaddon backhanded him across the face.
"The era of the Primarchs is finished," Abaddon snarled, his features twisted with rage, almost daemonic.
"This is my era now!"
The sorcerer staggered back, wisely retreating before Abaddon's fury made him the next sacrifice.
The Warmaster looked across the battlefield. Godzilla was leaving.
A grim smile curled his lips. "Then in the end… I still won, Godzilla."
But the smile died just as quickly.
From a Warp portal stepped another figure.
A colossal beast. Crimson-scaled, taller than even Godzilla's Heisei form. One hundred and twenty meters of Warp-spawned monstrosity.
A Subspace Godzilla.
Abaddon's face froze in horror.
And Isis's voice rang out like a knell:
"Now… this planet belongs to my God."
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