Chapter 178: My Father, the Lord of Humanity

Lev, the Chief of the Supreme Council, sat in the conference room, listening to the exchange between the two Primarchs. Whether he liked it or not, he had to admit that his mindset had transformed significantly since swearing allegiance to Dukel. The relentless tension that had gripped him during Terra's political power struggles had long since numbed.

As a mortal, with no extraordinary abilities and lacking native Terran heritage, he had navigated the treacherous corridors of Imperial politics to rise as the Chief Minister of the Supreme Council. Lev never considered himself incompetent.

But after meeting Dukel, he realized how naive he had been.

On Terra, politics was a game of balance and maneuvering.

Under Dukel, there was no balance. Those who obeyed were loyal subjects of the Emperor; those who disobeyed learned firsthand about the Chaos Gods.

It didn't matter whether it was the Grand Master of the Inquisition or the Grand Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites—if they stood in the way, they met Dukel's blade.

The First Legion would investigate, gather evidence, and then execute. The Second Legion would execute first, then investigate.

To Lev, politics had always been a game of checks and balances. Under Dukel, it had become a game of purges.

And now, Dukel planned to unilaterally declare the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars as heretical.

Lev could no longer hold back. "My lord, if all Tech-Priests are heretics, isn't that too extreme? The entire Imperium will struggle to accept that the Omnissiah's clergy is overrun with heresy."

The occasional rogue Magos or heretek was understandable—Chaos was insidious. But declaring the entire Mechanicus corrupt? If that were true, the Imperium would have already collapsed. There would be no need for an Ecclesiarchy; they could all just start worshipping the Dark Gods outright.

Dukel remained unfazed. "The corruption of Chaos spreads like a flood, an unchained beast. The people will believe it. If I say they are heretics, then they are heretics—whether they are or not. Don't worry, I respect the law. This will be handled by the book. The evidence will be irrefutable. The people will accept it."

Lev blinked.

It was a compelling argument.

What could he possibly say in response?

Guilliman, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Brother, the Mechanicus has only itself to blame."

In principle, Guilliman agreed with Dukel, but he raised a concern. "However, this is a massive undertaking. The Mechanicus is not like the nobility—they are indispensable to the Imperium's infrastructure. If we remove them all, how do you propose we keep the Imperium functioning?"

Purging corrupt nobles was one thing. Purging Tech-Priests was another.

Even the lowest-ranking priests required decades of training, decades more of service, and only then might they be inducted into the Mechanicus properly. Becoming a Magos was a feat of centuries.

It was harder than passing the Imperial Examination in ancient Terra—by orders of magnitude.

Dukel was aware of this, of course. That was why he had deployed Doron to Mars, bearing STC fragments stolen from the Endless, to sway neutral Archmagi. The templates themselves were worthless, but the illusion of technological rediscovery had always been a potent tool.

He already had a plan.

But outwardly, Dukel assumed a contemplative stance, as though wrestling with the decision. Then he nodded.

"Brother, if anyone else had come to persuade me, I wouldn't have listened. But since even you say so… fine. Let's start by removing the leadership. Guilliman, Lev—who is the most powerful opponent within the Mechanicus?"

Guilliman felt a flicker of warmth at his brother's apparent concession. He answered without hesitation.

"The Fabricator-General of Mars. No decision within the Mechanicus bypasses his will. His inaction has emboldened lesser Archmagi to follow his example. If you wish to change the Mechanicus, he is the first target."

A sharp snap echoed in the chamber.

Lev looked down.

The tip of his pen had broken.

He suddenly realized his composure was not as unshakable as he had thought.

"My Lords, should I step out while you discuss this?" he muttered.

Mortal minds were not made for these conversations between demigods.

The Fabricator-General of Mars was the supreme leader of the Adeptus Mechanicus—the second head of the Imperium's double-headed eagle. Even the Emperor himself, should He rise from the Golden Throne, would be forced to consult the Fabricator-General before making sweeping technological changes.

Yet here, the Primarchs discussed his removal as though they were rearranging furniture.

Lev swallowed and tried again. "My Lords, I believe the Fabricator-General is loyal. He has merely been misled by heretical elements within the Mechanicus."

Dukel regarded him. "Lev, don't worry. When the Fabricator-General falls, another will take his place. We will support a worthier Great Sage in the election. The Mechanicus will not fracture—it will become stronger. Cawl, for instance, has spent ten thousand years accumulating knowledge. I struggle to find anyone wiser."

Guilliman shook his head. "Brother, Cawl is unsuitable. He has never sought that position, and his fragmented consciousness raises concerns. At times, even I struggle to determine which iteration of him is real."

"Then Gris will suffice," Dukel said, unconcerned. "He is lucid and loyal."

And just like that, the two Primarchs continued discussing who would inherit the Mechanicus.

Lev wanted to protest further.

But then Dukel added, "By the way, nearly half of the Archmagi have already sworn loyalty to me."

Lev blinked.

Then he sat back.

"I am but an old man," he sighed. "My vision is not as keen as yours. If both Your Highness and the Regent believe there is heresy in the Mechanicus, then it must be so."

His perspective shifted instantly.

If half of the Mechanicus already followed Dukel, then removing the Fabricator-General would no longer destabilize the Imperium.

If more than half swore allegiance, Dukel's will would become absolute.

If ninety percent did… well, the Warmaster's Mechanicus would be a reality.

Lev recalled the decades of disrespect he had endured in the Supreme Council.

Perhaps it was time for change.

Efilar, standing silently behind Dukel, observed Lev's rapid reversal with indifference. As his secretary, she had no need to express an opinion. But she still performed her duty.

"Your Highness," she reminded, "the Fabricator-General commands the allegiance of the Titan Legions and the Knight Houses. Removing him will provoke their ire."

Dukel raised a brow. "The Titan Legions and the Knights? I have the Emperor's support. Are they more sacred than the Emperor?"

Efilar remained impassive. "The Emperor is the ruler of mankind."

"And could their strength stand against me and my brothers?"

"The Primarchs are the Empire's gods of war."

Dukel nodded. "Then the Titan Legions and the Knights are also heretics."

Efilar did not react.

"There is another matter," she continued. "The Emperor once made a pact with the Mechanicus, forbidding Imperial interference in their affairs. Violating it would mean defying His will."

Dukel smiled. "The pact forbids interference. It does not forbid the purging of heretics. Anyone who objects is welcome to report me—to the Supreme Council, the Tribunal, or the Adeptus Arbites. Real-name reports only."

He wanted to see who dared.

The merciful Lord of the Second Legion would gladly inform them:

My Father, the Lord of Mankind

My Brothers in the World of God

My Loyal Adeptus Administratum and Adeptus Militaris Officers

You would accuse me? Stand against me?

If you are not the heretic, then who is?

Efilar nodded. As a secretary, she had spoken all that was necessary. Now, she resumed her true role—as the Sister of the Lord of Destruction—gazing at her master with unwavering devotion.

"In all struggles, victory is your due, my lord."

She had long known that the Lord of Destruction would never falter before any obstacle. Yet, she still found herself admiring his composure when facing even the strongest opposition.

From the beginning, Guilliman never believed that Dukel feared anything.

Though his memories of ten thousand years past were lost, his years alongside his second brother left no doubt—Dukel was the most formidable man in the galaxy.

Guilliman was not one to underestimate himself. Yet, in courage, he recognized the vast gulf between them. He was a Primarch who excelled in learning. While he could never hope to replicate Dukel's scholarly wisdom, he could at least strive to match his audacity.

And so, he set his sights on the Fabricator-General.

In the past, such boldness would have been unthinkable. Guilliman was no fool. He understood the deep-seated problems plaguing the Imperium and even the Adeptus Mechanicus. But in previous eras, his approach was bound by law and diplomacy, leaving him powerless against those who could evade justice through legal obfuscation.

Dukel had shown him that loyalty must not be shackled by rigid doctrines.

Perspective shifted. Politics, like war, required decisive action. There was no room for half-measures. No compromise. No inviolable rules. If removing a single leader could bring the Mechanicus into unity and strengthen the Imperium, then it was a strategic necessity.

Guilliman's expression hardened. "Brother, if deposing the Fabricator-General ensures the Mechanicus' loyalty and unites their strength, we must act. Countless lives will be spared in the wars to come. For the Imperium, for the warriors who should not die needlessly—he must be purged! If this defies the Emperor's old compacts, then let me stand before the people and bear the burden of judgment."

"So long as we claim victory in the end, even the scorn of history is a price worth paying!"

Dukel's lips curled in faint approval. "Guilliman, it seems hardship has indeed tempered you. But you are mistaken in one thing."

Guilliman furrowed his brow. "What have I misjudged?"

Dukel spoke with deliberate precision. "The Fabricator-General is already a heretic."

Even if the Emperor Himself stepped down from the Golden Throne, He could not absolve such betrayal. This was not an insurrection—it was the righteous purge of heresy.

"To claim victory, we must never tarnish our claim to justice. At least in the eyes of the Imperium, every loyal Primarch must remain beyond reproach."

Dukel's voice was iron. "We do not break the Emperor's covenant. We are its rightful enforcers. The righteousness of the Imperium is ours to wield, for we are the will of the Emperor made manifest. Any who stand against us are heretics by definition."

Guilliman fell silent, absorbing the lesson.

It was a truth he had always known, but never dared embrace. Perhaps it was hypocrisy, but against the myriad enemies of the Imperium, every loyal son of the Emperor needed such a mask. Their hands must remain clean—untouched by treachery—so that they could lead humanity to its salvation.

To bear disgrace so easily was the mark of the defeated.

Even if the Fabricator-General were to perish suddenly in his chambers, the blame would never fall upon them.

As the Emperor's chosen, they would remain pure in the eyes of His faithful.

Guilliman exhaled slowly, conviction hardening within him. "Dukel, you are right. We walk the path of righteousness. Those who stand against us are heretics!"

Efilar watched the Lord Regent with quiet approval.

Excellent. His Highness had completely led Guilliman astray.

Perhaps Guilliman himself did not realize just how gullible he could be.

During the Horus Heresy, when Lorgar led the Word Bearers against him with over 200,000 warriors on Macragge, the Primarch of the XIII still believed Lorgar's words until the moment of betrayal.

Even as the first salvo from the Word Bearers' fleet crippled a third of his own, Guilliman still wondered if it had been some tragic mistake.

And in the Plague Wars, the Changer of Ways himself had whispered nine truths to Guilliman.

Any other Primarch, even Russ, would have doubted.

But Guilliman had trusted Tzeentch's words without hesitation.

Even the Architect of Fate must have been wary of misleading him—lest his deception be uncovered too soon.

Efilar turned her gaze back to Dukel. "Your Highness, shall we move directly, or should we first offer the Mechanicus a gift before we begin?"

Before Dukel could respond, Lev, the High Chancellor of the Supreme Council, spoke first.

"Your Highness, preparing gifts would be a waste of time. I have sent envoys to the Fabricator-General multiple times, and he continues to claim his forges are suffering 'technical failures.' Let us proceed at once."

The time for words had ended.

It was time for action.

Efilar: "…"

Even the weakest wanderer in the Imperium will find his hollow chest filled with courage when following the Lord of Destruction.

At this moment, Efilar understood the truth behind those words.

She recognized Lev's potential; he adapted quickly. No wonder he had fought his way through the Imperium's political arena to seize supreme power. He was ruthless, calculating—and utterly relentless.

Dukel felt reassured.

Like generals shape their soldiers, only the Lord of Destruction could command the Supreme Council's authority.

Despite this, Dukel remained true to his conscience as a son of the Emperor. "Let us prepare the offering first. If the Fabricator-General can be made to understand our vision, I am willing to spare his life."

Guilliman inclined his head. "Brother, your mercy shines brighter than the Astronomican."

Both Efilar and Lev agreed that clemency was indeed among the many virtues of the Lord of Destruction.

Even in his wrath, Dukel remained principled.

"The Fabricator-General is malfunctioning?" Dukel asked.

Lev nodded. "Yes, and he specifically avoided meeting you, Your Highness. Instead, he sent a messenger who has never set foot on Terra. It is a deliberate evasion."

After a pause, Lev continued. "The Fabricator-General, the Inquisition, and the Administratum were once political allies, bound by mutual interests. He should have moved to obstruct your purges, but you acted too swiftly. By the time his ship departed for Mars, the traitors were already dead. His influence was crippled, and now he seethes with fury. He fears that if he faces you directly, he will be unable to restrain himself."

Dukel nodded.

Collusion with the Inquisition and the Administratum? He was indeed a fool courting death.

But the Lord of Destruction bore the Emperor's compassion in his bones.

"Take me to him. I will meet him in person. He will not refuse me again, will he?" The Primarch smiled. "I expect a cordial and productive meeting."

Avoiding him was no longer an option.

The Primarch of the Imperium had come to call. The Adeptus Mechanicus had no authority to deny him.

"Your Highness." Lev hesitated. "Should we notify the Mechanicus beforehand?"

"Yes. Follow proper protocol," Dukel confirmed.

This would lull the Fabricator-General into a false sense of security.

Lev warned, "If you execute him, suspicions will follow."

If the Fabricator-General perished suddenly—whether through assassination, an unexplained accident, or even supposed suicide—blame would likely fall upon Koz, the Murder Specter of Terra. None would find such a claim unreasonable.

Dukel regarded him calmly. "First, I do not intend to kill the Fabricator-General. I would rather establish unity with the Mechanicus. Second, even if the entire Imperium knew I executed him with my own hands, what does it matter? Eradicating heretics is the duty of every loyal servant of the Emperor."

His true objective was to use the Fabricator-General's fate to silence dissent within the Mechanicus, forcing compliance through sheer example.

A covert assassination would serve no purpose.

However, going alone would invite suspicion—a matter that needed careful handling.

Dukel turned to Guilliman.

"Brother, come with me. Witness the Fabricator-General's heresy."

A witness would ensure undeniable proof.

Guilliman nodded. "I will testify before the Imperium against the Fabricator-General's treachery."

Dukel turned back to Lev. "If negotiations fail, and I am forced to purge a heretic, can you control the Imperium's narrative?"

Lev took a measured breath, considering the extent of his influence.

Finally, he nodded. "After the purges on Terra, the Supreme Council holds absolute authority. With the Grand Master of the Inquisition and others eliminated, no dissent remains. The Supreme Council's power now exceeds all prior expectations."

Dukel was satisfied.

Mars would be handled as if waging war.

"Efilar, remain aboard the Inner Fire. If the Mechanicus resists more than anticipated, reduce Mars to ruin."

Mars may have hidden technologies, but no arsenal could outmatch a Primarch's expeditionary force. Furthermore, three other Primarchs had stationed legions on the red world.

Resistance would mean annihilation.

Dukel sought a Mechanicus that served the Imperium. But if it had rotted beyond redemption, he would consign Mars to history's ashes.

No sacrifice was too great.

No betrayal too small to punish.

Efilar bowed. "As you command, Your Highness. At the first sign of rebellion, Mars will burn."

Dukel allowed a smile.

"Good. Lev, inform the Mechanicus of our arrival."

"Your Highness, when do you wish to depart?"

"Tomorrow. The sooner, the better."

Efficiency above all else.