The journey back to Terra was one of doubt and introspection for Horus and his brothers. It had been the first time they’ve seen their Father humiliated in such a fashion, and the utter defeat cast a great shadow on the legitimacy of the Emperor's Great Crusade. Worse, Sev’s words had wormed its way into Horus’ mind, and he began doubting the mandate of the Imperium.

 

Up until now, they had asserted themselves as the only chance for humanity, forcing isolated civilizations into the Imperium’s fold for their own good. There were many backwards, devolved worlds that required being dragged into the Imperium’s prosperity kicking and screaming, societies that had forgotten so much that some were literally armed with only sticks and stones. 

 

There were also many worlds freed and rescued from the predation and oppression of foul aliens. Those the Imperium gladly let loose their righteous fury, where primarchs and Legions reminded the xenos that Humanity would not suffer being livestock and slaves any more.

 

Yet it was not the alien that was the most disgusting enemy; That dishonor belonged to the human societies that had endured Old Night by giving in to the darkness, debasing themselves into twisted, mutated creatures that reveled in bloody sadism and inhumanity. For these fallen examples, the Imperium could only offer the mercy of extinction by a thorough Exterminatus.

 

And yet…

 

The primarch let out a heavy sigh. And yet, there were also many worlds that had been peaceful, prosperous even, with technological advances on par with, if not superior to the Imperium’s own. Worlds that had rejected the Imperium’s offer of vassalage, either politely or otherwise. Most of such cultures were no worse than the willing members of the Imperium. Some were even idyllic compared to the Imperium’s most developed, most privileged worlds.

 

How many of such holdouts had Horus and his brothers razed for their refusal to be a part of the Imperium? 

 

How many interstellar confederations, alliances and small empires had been broken for the crime of wishing to retain their independence from the Imperium?

 

And worse, how often had the Imperium - or more accurately the Mechanicum - like petty scavengers, greedily picked through these subjugated or shattered civilizations for shreds of lost and new technology to add to its own jealously guarded hoard?

 

Was this really Humanity’s only hope against the rest of the hostile galaxy?

 

Before all this, Horus never thought to question any of this. Their victories were proof to their righteousness of their cause, after all. The weakness of these isolated civilizations was damning evidence enough that they would be ill-equipped against the horrors lurking in the stars.

 

But if that was the case, what did that make the Imperium he fought in, an empire to be so thoroughly humiliated by a lone system and its self-proclaimed godking? Just as weak and undeserving to exist as the other worlds?

 

The Emperor had his reasons for the aggressiveness of the Great Crusade and its Imperial Compliance… Horus just wished that he could now honestly believe that it was truly just for the sake of Humanity.

 

Horus gave another heavy sigh, shaking his head in a vain attempt to banish such dark thoughts. He refocused his attention back to inspect his armor, a backhanded gift from Sev. The whole suit had been returned to him, unmarked and seemingly brand new from the forges. There was no sign of repaired damage, no hint of substitute materials being used. The servo motors and reactor parts were shiny clean, the oils and reactor coolants were clean, and even the paint was unmarred by dust and repeated restorations.

 

For all intents and purposes, it was as if Sev had created an exact copy of the warsuit instead of extensively repairing it. It was the same with the rest of the captured equipment the Nexus returned to the Sons of Horus.

 

While it was good to be armed and armored again, the thought of wearing this armor felt…wrong. Knowing what he knew, it was like wearing a physical reminder of his greatest defeat, his greatest shame. He was sure his sons felt the same. Ezykyle and a good number of the Justaerin were still in donated armor, rather than don their Cataphractii Terminator suits again.

 

The Luna Wolves had been dealt a humiliation that would take a long time to come to terms with, and Horus hoped that the legion and its primarch could come to terms with it sooner rather than later. 

 

It went the same for the Emperor as well. Horus had seen how the defeat had affected his Father. The certainty in his gaze and voice was now brittle and strained. There were flares of escaped, naked hate radiating from Him whenever they discussed the Nexus, something Horus and his brothers had never seen before in their Father. The signs were subtle and the slips of control too brief for mere mortal humans or even elevated Astartes to catch, but the primarchs had noticed it.

 

Malcador was far less restrained. The ancient psyker became far more irritable despite having his body restored to a far better condition by Nexus medical technology. The resentment he bore was unmistakable, especially from the scowl whenever the Nexus or Sev was mentioned. 

 

Horus, along with Leman, had spent some time with the Emperor and the Sigillite, out of concern for their Father as well as to discuss how to recover from the humiliating blow the Nexus had dealt them. The primarch of the Luna Wolves put aside the vambrace he was inspecting as he recalled those grim meetings. 

 

“We’ll have to enforce silence regarding this whole…debacle,” Malcador had suggested. “The legitimacy of the Imperium must not be questioned, or all we’ve fought for would be lost.”

 

“And how do we silence Sev’s arrival to Mars and Terra?” the Wolf King countered with a soft growl. “No matter how you want to pretty it up, he is arriving into Sol in a captured Ark Mechanicus. That sends only one message to the Martian priests.”

 

Horus nodded along in agreement, while the Emperor remained silent. 

 

The Sigillite glared at primarch with barely restrained contempt. “Then we ensure that he does not make it into Sol,” the aged psyker uttered, stunning both primarchs to silence. Horus and Leman shared wide-eyed looks.

 

“Assassination?” Horus whispered. “But…”

 

“The Nexus Unity had only just gotten their hands on our technology,” Malcador continued, “And in their arrogance they’ve just slaved it to their Abominable Intelligences to make use of our warp engines. They wouldn’t have had the time to delve into the secrets of warp travel as we have.”

 

“They’ve broken through the secrets of the Mechanicum in just a few days of capturing the tech-priests,” Leman retorted, his voice rising. “Enough to subvert their systems, enough to subvert the magi themselves! What makes you think they would remain blind to the dangers of the warp?”

 

Horus took a step forward beside his brother in support. “We are dealing with an enemy whose capabilities we are still unsure of. Magnus found Sev and his Nexus to be anomalous in the Warp.” He looked at the psyker, and then to his Father. “Surely you’ve seen the same?”

 

Malcador sneered. “He is only one, arrogant man in a captured ship. The so-called god might be immune to the Warp, but his vessel is not.”

 

“And if he has the means to escape? If he has already made the vessel proof against the Warp?” Horus found his own voice rising as he opposed the insane idea.

 

The debate that ensued rose in volume and fervor for a few minutes, until finally the Emperor cut in.

 

“Enough.” He turned first to Malcador, who bowed his head, and then to the primarchs, who met their Father’s gaze with determined ones of their own. “You’ve made your points, my sons,” the Emperor said with a slow, weighty nod. “And perhaps it is safer to assume that your observations are correct. This option will be dropped and forgotten, Mal.”

 

“As you say, Sire.”

 

“But that still leaves the matter of…Sev arriving in Sol.” The Emperor of Mankind gave a heavy, regretful sigh. “The Mechanicum would take offense to his blatant insult, and the Imperium can not afford to fracture from within.”

 

No satisfactory solution could be brought up, nothing that did not involve going to Sev for some form of cooperation. Subsequent meetings on that matter provided similar results, and in the end it would likely be the legions’ responsibility to serve as an obfuscating screen for the Nexus against the greater Imperium. Horus himself would have to find a way to either placate or cow the Mechanicum magi into cooperation. He’d probably have to get his brothers to join him for better effect…

 

Brothers whose loyalties were actually being questioned by the Emperor.

 

“As far as I know, they had only been promised of aid, in exchange for their legions abstaining from any future conflicts with the Nexus Unity,” Horus had briefed his Father. It was impossible not to notice the meeting and the varied effect on his brothers, but beyond what little they had to tell him, it was clear that the individual offers of ‘aid’ was significant enough that Magnus and Sanguinius were shaken and unwilling to provide any further details. 

 

Angron simply looked too pleased, and was all too happy to tell of how his legion’s mutilation would be undone by the Nexus for the small price of neutrality.

 

For all that, even Russ still believed that their brothers had not been subverted. Not yet, anyway. “Angron might need reminding and maybe even monitoring, but Sanguinius and Magnus should not be doubted. Do not mistake their courtesy call for treachery, Father.” Horus was quietly impressed that the Wolf King would defend his sorcerous brother so strongly.

 

The Emperor simply kept a stoic gaze, exchanging silent, yet knowing looks with Malcador. “I do not doubt my sons, but there will be further…clarification on the matter once we resolve the current issue of Sev’s arrival to Sol. Much needs to be said and done. The Imperium must adapt to overcome this…incident.”

 

It had rankled Horus, to realize just how much one humiliating gesture could dangerously destabilize his Father’s empire. Yet… The dark thoughts returned, and the primarch shook them off again. He could not afford any doubt, not now. The Imperium, for all its perceived faults, was still the best hope for Humanity. The Emperor needed his generals, his sons, and Horus would not fail his Father.

 

*****

 

It was taking a while to get accustomed to having clear thoughts again, but Kharn was determined to make the best of this second rebirth of the World Eaters. The fleet had time enough in space for the XIIth legion to retrain and resharpen themselves back to what they were before the Nails. The price of having the Nexus’ monsters quickly and painlessly removing out the implants was well worth it, all in all.

 

They had their primarch back, truly back, and the legion would make a return to a more…appropriate standing. As Kharn understood it, the other legion elements operating across the galaxy would eventually be sent to the Nexus for similar treatment. Sev was quick to offer the World Eaters a restoration from their self-inflicted mutilation, probably as an easy way to earn Angron’s favor.

 

The captain couldn’t find any fault in that though, as much as the Nexus was technically the enemy. At the end of it all, Sev had done what even the Emperor, glory unto Him, could not and gave the XIIth their primarch back as he should have been from the start. It would take time for legionnaires and their genesire to mend the damage dealt within the legion, but that was a challenge that every World Eater preferred than returning to the bite of the Butcher’s Nails.

 

Angron was no longer secluded in his chambers, walking about the Conqueror to socialize with mortals and legionnaires alike, but the primarch still chose to abstain from leading the legion for the time being.

 

“Not until I have earned it back,” he told the assembled officers. “Not until I am fit to lead you.” Initial pledges had been made for Angron to study under  his brother primarchs. Having Sanguinius be the first to accept the offer was heartening, but Kharn didn’t know how to feel when Magnus was the second to take up his brother’s request for tutelage. Dorn, Horus and even Russ had each accepted the offer as well, of course, but once they returned to Sol, Kharn idly wondered who else his primarch would reach out to.

 

He sincerely hoped it would not be Corax or Alpharius. Or, Throne forbid, Curze.

 

Kharn winced as he imagined his primarch working in the shadows. Or breaking the Night Haunter in two for his notorious insanity. 

 

A near-treasonous thought entered Kharn’s head - Could Konrad Curze be healed by the Nexus of his madness, and returned to a primarch’s nobility as Angron had been?

 

He shook away the thought with a grunt and returned to his duties. He was supposed to coordinate the training to reintegrate the withered Librarius into legion doctrine, now that their presence was no longer toxic to the rank and file. It was a dark shame that in their desperate quest to gain their primarch’s attention, the implementation of the Butcher’s Nails and its deleterious effects of having psykers nearby had ostracized a minority of the World Eater’s battle brothers. Brothers who remained loyal to the legion despite their pariah status, who fought and died alongside the rest of them while being forced to live on the edges of the legion.

 

It was a shame that was quickly being rectified. The Lectio Primus, Vorias, was now part of Legion Master Lhorke’s strategic command staff, and once they returned to realspace, a change in recruitment would be instituted to allow for the replenishment of the World Eater’s Librarius. The appointed legion master was almost stuck in a perpetually irritated state as he reluctantly led the World Eaters, as if having his limbs back only reminded him of how irritating normal posthumanity was.

 

Like the other legions involved in the Nexus affair, the World Eaters fleet now possessed no active dreadnoughts. Their advanced healing had seen every broken body restored whole with two arms and two legs, to say nothing of other smaller wounds. The war suits now sat in the armory, to be retrieved for the unfortunate event that they would be required once more. The restored legion master now stomped through the ship with a scowl, though Kharn was sure Lhorke was thankful for having his whole body back, somewhere deep under all the annoyance at his burden of leadership.

 

There was the looming problem of what would happen once they returned to Terra, but for now, the World Eaters would continue to hone and temper themselves. Hopefully, Sev would not cause another hostile incident with the Imperium or the Mechanicum, and the legion could quickly return to the stars to make up for their past failures instead. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be forced to decide between their old loyalties and new…honorable obligations.

 

Kharn honestly did not know if Angron would immediately side with the Nexus if another altercation broke out. He didn’t even know whether he himself would join his primarch in that decision.