Chapter 603

"Traitor!!"

In the arena cage, Sol let out a low growl and swung his training blade at Alcarnes, the strike ferocious beyond measure, aimed straight at Alcarnes's throat.

Alcarnes, the last of the Phoenix Guard, raised his sword in response; blade met blade like a frantic symphony.

"I never betrayed," Alcarnes said in a low voice, his teeth sharp as a shark's.

This was the only change he had undergone in the ten thousand years since his fall—but it was not a corruption of chaos; Alcarnes had deliberately sharpened his teeth to better blend into the post-rebellion Sons of the Emperor.

"Never betrayed? Then what did you do on Istvaan Three ten thousand years ago?" Sol glimpsed fragmented memories from his gene-seed of the events on Istvaan Three.

He spun and slashed, carving an exquisitely graceful arc through the air.

Alcarnes stepped back slightly, then parried Sol's blade with a single stroke.

"I never betrayed the Legion or the Primarch," Alcarnes emphasized. "Everything I did was rooted in loyalty to the Legion and the Primarch."

"And what of the Emperor?! What of your brothers?!" Sol pressed his blade hard against Alcarnes's.

"I admit that was one of many oaths I broke," Alcarnes's face darkened. "But you don't understand, Sol—you don't know what Fulgrim meant to us."

"Before the Primarch's return, our Legion was already dead in all but name. While the Night Lords won glory across the galaxy by the hundreds of thousands, we were wracked by blight. While the Imperial Fists built grand fortresses, we could not even mount an independent expedition. While the endless Legions of the Ultramarines carved out their domains, we were reduced to two hundred men."

"It was Fulgrim's return that saved us—he pulled our Legion back from the brink of annihilation. We bathed in his fire, followed in his wake, and rose from the most obscure Legion to the most glorious."

"Fulgrim is the Legion. The Legion is Fulgrim."

Alcarnes's expression twisted in pain as he whispered:

"I never worshipped the Chaos Gods. I never cared for the Warmaster's rebellion."

"Sol, I simply chose loyalty to the Primarch over loyalty to the Emperor."

"But I must admit—it was a wrong choice."

"I never imagined it would end like this. He saved us… then led us into the abyss of corruption and decay."

"Pathetic Alcarnes. Ridiculous Alcarnes. Pitiful Alcarnes." A sharp mocking voice echoed from deep within Sol's mind.

It was Lucius's voice, sneering at Alcarnes.

"He deserves death. You don't even deserve to die." Another voice, deeper and calmer, spoke.

Sol grew agitated from Lucius's voice; he wrenched his blade away from Alcarnes's—but Alcarnes seized the opening, pressing forward and forcing Sol into retreat.

Sol had to admit: Alcarnes's martial skill was extraordinary.

In the memories passed down through his gene-seed from Tavitz, Alcarnes was not the greatest swordsman among the Sons of the Emperor—but he ranked among the top.

And over these ten thousand years, Alcarnes had not wasted himself in debauchery; instead, he had honed his swordcraft further.

Perhaps this was why the Phoenix Sons held Alcarnes in such deep reverence.

Before Sol's return, Alcarnes had served as the trainer of the Phoenix Sons.

Seeing his brothers show respect to Alcarnes filled Sol with inexplicable irritation.

It was strange—Sol himself had once been trained by Kaen. Alcarnes could not have betrayed more deeply than Kaen.

Yet Sol felt agitated, unbearable.

"How could the Phoenix have become like this? I still dare not recall those memories!"

Alcarnes's voice trembled as he spoke:

"Lucius, that bastard, subdued us—he led a group against the Primarch. Against the Primarch. Strong Lucius, that bastard—"

"Pitiful Alcarnes, forced to watch from afar as the Primarch played his games, watching the Primarch wear a look of delight." Lucius's mockery echoed again in Sol's mind: "Like a powerless husband hiding in a closet, peeping."

"Shut up!!!" Sol roared, his blade suddenly turning savage, forcing Alcarnes back.

". Let me finish!" Alcarnes thought Sol was speaking to him.

He hesitated, skipping over that part—he himself had no desire to relive those memories.

"I watched as the Legion decayed. I tried repeatedly to turn it back. I sought to find the Primarch and make him discipline them—but the Primarch's fall surpassed the entire Legion's combined corruption."

"I grew hopeless. I even joined the Phoenix Conclave, built by the fraud Adolon, because he promised to restore the Sons of the Emperor to greatness."

"Damn it—he himself destroyed our Phoenix Guard."

"I drifted aimlessly for ten thousand years… until I saw him aboard Fabius's ship."

Alcarnes's tone suddenly grew fervent:

"Sol. Tavitz—he is different. I saw the old Primarch's radiance in him."

"Though he is a clone, he is the true Son of the Emperor. He can truly lead us back to the glorious Legion we once were."

"Believe me, Sol—so long as he is with us, I can undo the mistakes I once made."

"Then why have you delayed? Why have you vanished without a trace?" Sol countered, feeling as if it was the Son of the Emperor named Tavitz within him demanding the answer.