Chapter 906 - 905: The Emperor Didn't Get It, But I Want It, So I Will

003.M31.

Ultima Segmentum, Veridian system, Calth, Nereid estuary.

The river wind rustled the flax fields. Glafort hummed along the path.

"Soldier Persson."

"It's time to stop."

Ollanius Persson withdrew his gaze from the sky, a wry smile twisting his lips.

He had spent most of the day watching the Landers, Stormbirds, and transports streaking overhead.

In his forty-five thousand years of experience, he had seen this before.

Something major was happening on Calth.

A week ago, the drone patrols had increased fourfold.

Shadows of Order from Fort Korkas were patrolling the riverbanks repeatedly.

Three days ago, he had gone to Numina City, but the clerks hadn't even approved his entry request.

Using his experience, he had slipped into the city the day before to investigate, but had found nothing.

"Soldier Persson, time to go back," Glafort reminded mechanically.

'Soldier Persson... yes, that's all I am now.' Persson shook his head. Even if something important was happening, it had nothing to do with an ordinary retired soldier.

He loaded the day's meager harvest onto the cart. Less than half a cart, proof of how much time he had spent gazing skyward.

Usually, an hour of work yielded two cartloads of flax.

Ollanius walked with Glafort towards his cottage.

Suddenly, he stopped. Black armor. Golden wings.

A giant over four meters tall. He had seen the golden streak from thirty kilometers away, on the hillside.

He had seen the three-hundred-meter-tall obsidian statue in Numina City, overlooking the Nereid estuary.

Primarch Nareth.

'So, the recent commotion on Calth was because of Nareth's arrival.'

'Why has he come?'

Ollanius recalled that four years prior, when the Reaper Lord of the Shadows of Order's 7th Chapter had visited, the entire planet had been prepared three months in advance.

He had watched Sanchez, wearing the Russ Wolf Helm, the Morkai cloak, and the Krakensmaw at his waist, a deliberate insult to the Space Wolves, from across the Nereid.

Ollanius felt Nareth's gaze fall upon him.

Instinctively, he wanted to lower himself. He had only felt this urge to submit to one other person.

Though he had left his friend and master nearly thirty thousand years ago, he still remembered that same supernatural charisma and authority.

Ollanius gritted his teeth, resisting the instinct. As he struggled against the supernatural authority, a calm voice, like from a deep well, echoed in his ears.

"Won't you invite me in?"

"All of Calth is yours. Do you need my permission to go anywhere?" Ollanius retorted.

"If you really are asking, I would ask you to leave."

"My cottage is no place for someone like you." He gestured, indicating Nareth's size.

Nareth was taken aback. He hadn't expected such open rejection after Ollanius recognized him.

"Very well. I'll be direct."

"There are secrets in your mind that I need."

As he spoke, light and shadow flickered in his obsidian eyes. His consciousness reached for Ollanius.

"You-" Ollanius, sensing the intrusion, watched Nareth warily.

His master used psychic powers to pry into minds when He needed secrets.

Ollanius had heard that Nareth and Magnus also possessed telepathic abilities.

He felt his thoughts slow. Everything around him slowed.

Glafort's movements, pushing the cart of flax, grew sluggish, as if his mechanical body hadn't been maintained for a century.

Ollanius knew it wasn't time slowing down, but Nareth's mind, intruding upon his own, disrupting his thoughts.

Memories flooded his mind unbidden: Austerlitz, planting Napoleon's banner on the Pratzen Heights; Verdun, lying in a frozen trench, watching the slaughter.

The memories stopped at a certain point, in Eastern Phoenicia.

The banner of Warmaster Ollanius Persson flew as he marched alongside his master.

A towering spire appeared on the horizon, over ten thousand meters high.

It was perfectly aligned, not something achievable by the era's construction methods, like a clock carved by divine power.

"Nareth, you came for the Lexicon of Enuncia?"

Ollanius's voice echoed in his mind, deep and ancient.

"You're just like him. So arrogant, thinking you can control everything."

Nareth saw a king in ornate bronze armor, his eyes gleaming, staring at the spire.

"Ollanius, we cannot destroy it."

"No! My master! The Lexicon of Enuncia is too dangerous. We must destroy it." Ollanius stood before his master, arguing.

"No!" The king's tone was sharp, brooking no dissent.

"I can control it. I will prove it to you." He strode past Ollanius towards the spire.

Ollanius's gaze darkened. He shook his head and drew a dagger from his belt.

He lunged forward, plunging the blade into his master's back.

Blood stained the white cloak. The king cried out in shock, "Ollanius-"

He crumpled. Ollanius glanced at the unconscious figure.

"You will never understand. Some powers cannot be controlled."

Rumble!

The spire exploded, debris raining down like hail.

"I stopped him and I can stop you."

"You will get nothing."

Nareth witnessed Ollanius's betrayal of the Emperor, but he didn't see him climb the tower, witness the Lexicon, and use it to destroy it.

He felt Ollanius's mind, honed by forty thousand years of war, surge with defiant will.

His lined face seemed to sharpen.

His prominent nose jutted like a mountain peak, his deep-set eyes were like chasms.

Boom, boom, boom...

An invisible clash erupted in the supernatural realm.

Nareth's reaching mental tendrils struck a mountain.

Ollanius's tightly guarded mind was like falling into a mountain range. Even as he channeled his psychic power, he could not break through.

"That he didn't get it is his problem." Nareth smiled.

The "Mentor of Disorder's" ambition surged. "I want it. So I will."

Rumble!

At his words, the mountains trembled.

The spire materialized from nowhere. Ollanius walked into it, as if compelled.

He stared at the words engraved on the spire, the Lexicon of Enuncia, a language of anti-language.

One by one, Nareth committed the ancient words to memory, until Ollanius found the mystic phrase.

He spoke the word of power. Destruction engulfed the tower.

Spinning flames consumed Ollanius Persson, reducing him to dust.

The earth shook. Blinding light erupted from the spire.

The tower shattered, its power destroying it.

Nareth's consciousness was hurled back to his body, the psychic backlash leaving him with a grunt.

He was in pain, but triumphant.

He had obtained the Lexicon of Enuncia.

The Enuncia was an ancient language, but not for communication. It was a tool, a weapon. When spoken or written, it could manipulate the structure of reality, surpassing even the power of the most potent psykers.

It did not require psychic power. Anyone could use it.

Nareth ascended to the Third Level of the Thelema mindstate, feeling the psychic tremors subside. He turned his gaze to Ollanius Persson.

....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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