Greatest Of All Time
No man was born to love fighting, but for Arthon Jor'li he realized upon he was destined to be a fighter. It wasn't just because he had the talent or skill for it, but because it gave him
hope. Born into only a lower class family on Commous, the Jor'li family expected to go through life without much notice.
When Arthon developed psychic powers, it was both a great moment of happiness and concern. Their son displayed aggressive tendencies as a child, seeing out fights and getting into trouble
before being a psyker. They feared that such power would go to his head or would inflame those tendencies.
Arthon became keenly aware of his parents' danger to his parents to his credit. He didn't want to upset or disappoint them, especially after all the times they allowed him to get away with things. He would not let them suffer because of his selfishness. His grateful parents were still required to report his development to the proper authorities. Arthon would be given a chance to prove himself, less a much darker fate awaited him.
Commous expected much from their psykers, and those that failed were doomed to an inglorious end.
Arthon wasn't going to end up like that, so he did his best to try and adapt. At first, it was the hope for a better life for him and his family that allowed Arthon to ignore the voices when he was younger.
His father, bless his soul, told him that he must never lose control whenever he heard them or felt anger but never let their barbs and taunts get to him. 'Don't let them dictate your thoughts, my son. Fight against them.' At, such a feat was impossible. Arthon couldn't stop them. But Arthon could try and block them out.
However, it exhausted him to no end. His mother was the one that suggested it might be best then to try and put all his efforts into something a bit more productive. 'If you have to tire yourself out, love, you might as well do it by doing something you love.'
And Arthon loved to train.
That wasn't an exaggeration either. Arthon would spend hours in the gymnasiums working himself to the bone before his powers developed. So when he realized that he was stuck with this burden, he decided that it would not stop him from doing what he loved.
It became a battle of wills, and Arthon was too stubborn to lose.
He began to train, both his body and mind now. The voices couldn't reach him when he focused during these moments. By letting the burning of muscles act as a distraction, Arthon denied the darkness of his body. He then focused on the pain, the feeling of release, and even the joy upon completing a killer workout.
Whatever was speaking to him, it couldn't take these things away from Arthon. In time, Arthon made his stand against these voices. But he didn't create a wall around his soul. Instead, he built a pyre. He let the flames of courage and grit act as a shield against such darkness.
Arthon wasn't going to cower behind anything. If his enemies wanted him, they would have to come and take him in the light.
Once he proved himself to his parents, he had to do it for the psyker recruiters. They put him through a series of tests, mental and physical, before finally sitting Arthon down and probing his mind.
His recruiters would later remark that it was like looking into a roaring firepit.
Then they tested him with several training fights...and then they saw the power that Arthon commanded at his fingertips. Untested and unused to powers, the young psyker proceeded to destroy a hundred test servitors by his lonesome. Barely 16, and he already had as much power as an Epsilon.
At this point, a man would come forward and speak to Arthon privately. His future instructor and trainer, Grandmaster Pike.
Pike was an old man, grey and with a beard that went down to his knees, but the burning look in his eyes made Arthon hang on his every word, "You have such potential, more than anyone I've seen within the last six centuries. Not only do you have the strength of a mortal man, but your power will be unbelievable. Let me sponsor you, and I will train you as well."
Arthon asked how many students he trained, and Pike responded by saying he trained only one man in his entire life. When Arthon asked, he expected perhaps a relatively popular fighter at best. Arthon didn't expect Pike to say he trained Garon the Almighty.
Garon was the greatest psyker to have ever lived on Commous. That wasn't an exaggeration; that was a fact. Garon established the psyker academies, established the Rights of Combat, and used his vast fortune to create the Grand Battleground, for which only the greatest psykers could battle with all their might.
The Grandmaster promised him that he could go above and beyond Garon, given enough time and training. "I made a lot of mistakes training him; I squandered his potential. But you? I promise you, let me train you, and you will be the greatest fighter this world has ever seen."
Pike told Arthon that it would be hard, that his glory would come in small chunks, and that he would need to be humbled. Arthon didn't care for glory; he just wanted to fight! However, Pike remarked that all men in time drink the glory and fame more than anything, but that was a lesson that Arthon would have to learn by himself.
In any case, Pike and Arthon agreed. He was going to the greatest psyker school on Commous and trained personally by Pike. Things were only looking up for Arthon.
---
Arthon could remember, quite fondly, his first days at the Garon Academy for Psykers. His parents were there to see him off on his first day. It was embarrassing, but it made him feel a lot better about his first year at the academy. Grandmaster Pike had already spent time training him, but Arthon was still nervous.
He wasn't a smart kid. Not dumb, but he certainly didn't read as many books and spent more time training. A part of him was nervous about making new friends as well. But that didn't stop him from trying.
Plus, he was still excited about learning how to be a professional Fighter! He expected them to teach Arthon and the others how to be greater discipline users and weapon training!
And that was true, but to a much lesser extent than he initially thought. The academy focused more on things acting, showmanship, and theatrical design, if anything.
It confused Arthon quite a bit. They were trying to make celebrities, ones that could kill entire armies, but celebrities all the same.
Arthon hated to admit it, but he was
awful at playing his powers up. This confused his instructors as he had a nice flair and design. Arthon was also a rather fit and attractive young man, claiming that he would do quite well with the female demographic in the long term, but the young Psyker just wanted to
fight.
He found himself quickly out of the loop, unable to really grasp this rather strange direction.
But it was thanks to this that he met his friends. They were likewise similarly unable or not as appealing as their peers, either in looks or powers. Arthon, however, found himself seeing the potential in them all.
There was Raidia, a girl of 14 but an accomplished pyromancer. The first time they met, she called Arthon an 'idiot' and spent the next three centuries calling him that. Her power was great, but her control was fairly limited. Still, Arthon saw that she had enough power to set an entire housing block on fire within seconds, probably.
Then there was Terin, a Telekine that actually used his powers to increase the kinetic force of his attacks and even his body. He was a quiet young man. The first time that he and Arthon sparred, Terin almost killed him. He only got deadlier as time went on.
Zaro...the fastest swordsman alive. A braggart, but a well-deserved one. He used biomancy to enhance his reflexes, speed, and strength. Unlike Arthon, he didn't like standing still. In and out, quick and clean.
Finally, there was Lucy. One of the rare telekine/diviner psykers. She liked using explosives, timing them in ways to get the biggest damage zones, and also just to fuck with her enemies. Lucy was a bit crazy, so they called her The Mad Bomber.
They were all a bunch of misfits. Arthon learned to love them all, even after the people around them called them losers.
Arthon learned during those tentative years that you had to stick by your friends, no matter the cost. In the centuries to come, they were the only people that stood by his side until the very end.
In any case, they were all on the way to becoming legends in their own right, but they would also claim that Arthon got them on the right path.
---
It was almost six long, grueling, painful years before Grandmaster Pike allowed Arthon to participate in a tournament. In most instances, a fighter only needed to get the approval of either the Fighting Board, their main sponsor, or a recommendation from a veteran Champion.
However, the last few years had changed the rules. The Fighting Board allowed academy trainees to take part in fights now. That was going against Garon's rules, which stated only certified gladiators could participate. Instead, some psykers as young as 18 were allowed to fight and potentially die in the coliseums.
"Watch yourself, Arthon; I fear that times are changing and not for the better." His master warned him before signing Arthon up for his first tournament.
Until that first tournament, he was a young man and barely out of the academy. He had no accolades to his name, as Grandmaster Pike did not announce that Arthon was his student. Arthon was a nobody. No one took him seriously until his first fight.
When Arthon fought against Ka'le, the Red Killer, most called it a bad match. Ka'le was an adroit telekine psyker who used force knives to butcher his opponents. Yet here comes Arthon, who only used a pair of force-knuckledusters. A young streetfighter going against a seasoned assassin. Most people expected the newcomer actually to die, as Ka'le was merciless.
And then, the entire planet watched as Arthon proceeded to grapple and KO Ka'le within a minute. Stunned that he defeated Ka'le without even drawing blood, let alone not having to kill him, a few almost accused the match of being rigged. Arthon, to his credit, thought that Ka'le was just distracted.
So, he agreed to a rematch. The Red Killer was ready this time.
Arthon promptly won again.
When people asked Arthon what he was doing, he just said that he grappled the Red Killer and then used his biomancy to cause the blood flow in his opponent's head to be cut off for a few seconds. Not enough to cause any lingering damages, but just enough to induce a knockout effect.
People still called it a fluke.
Then Arthon fought against Shiver in the semi-finals, and he beat her within five minutes. The crowds were stunned and finally took notice of the newcomer. He was an upsetter for the betters, and even some of the more powerful people on Commous wondered just how far he could go before getting defeated.
Newcomers didn't last long, not against veterans with centuries of experience. Arthon was looking to be a fairly decent psyker and a good gladiator prospect, but he wasn't anything special at first glance. He would not last, or so his critics claimed over vid and vox.
His friends, loyal to the end, cheered for him at every battle, even after losing their own matches. Arthon represented their class, the "Mediocre Generation," as their older peers called his year.
So many called them a joke, but Arthon was proving them otherwise.
Arthon didn't so much break expectations as he did exceed them. Again, he was a young buck in a world where the oldest psykers in the world were capable of destroying entire armies. Arthon was a novelty, an aberration in an almost thousand-year-old system.
When he finally did reach the finals, Arthon was the underdog. People wanted him to win, to see the upset at this local circuit. Perhaps, they thought, Arthon would one day fight in the Grand Battleground? His competitors decided to see him lose, though.
His first match was again Nyne the Blackshooter, a telekine who mastered electromagnetic manipulation. He could turn a pebble into a potentially lethal projectile, let alone something made of metal and specially designed to piece even tank armor.
In short, Arthon brought fists to a gunfight.
Many were positive that he would fall here, even Arthon had doubts until his friends and Grandmaster Pike offered timely advice and told him that a bullet couldn't hope to beat the fists of a driven man. However, to be safe, Pike taught Arthon a rather interesting biomancy technique...
The battle against Nyne was a dangerous one, especially as the battlefield for their dual favored the Blackshooter...but Arthon bided his time and learned how his opponent fought before finally unleashing his new technique: Bio-Electric Field. Arthon didn't understand the specifics, requiring understanding electric and matter dispersion. Still, he could create a field around him that disrupted and even nullified magnetically enhanced projectiles aimed at him.
It took a lot of power and control, but Arthon had enough to let him get close enough to Nynes and then promptly beat the Blackshooter in combat. Upon his victory, it would be the first that time Arthon heard millions
chanting his name!
ARTHON!
ARTHON!
ARTHON!
And then, finally, he heard his nickname as well. It wasn't as cool or grandiose as he wanted, but he had to admit that it fit him well enough.
STREETFIGHTER! STREETFIGHTER! STREETFIGHTER!
Arthon the Streetfighter. It would be the first title given to him by the people of Commous, but certainly not the last.
The rest of the tournament became a haze of battle for Arthon. The Blackshooter was just the beginning, and ultimately Arthon fought against Krin the Firefly, a pyromancer with such great control that she could fly using the energy generated from her warp created plasma, and then against Mr. Rockcrete, a psyker born with an extremely rare form of geomancy that could harden his skin into ferrocrete and give him the strength of ten Lifter Sentinels.
All hard fights, but nothing compared to the tournament's grand finale. Arthon was up against Thousand Blades Hagar, a two-century-old veteran with some of the greatest telekine control to date. Hagar was old and decrepit in his advanced age and after years of brutal fights and tournaments. Not that it mattered, as he didn't fight directly.
Instead, he used his powers to manipulate hundreds of small daggers and six heavy blades to attack his opponents in a tornado of steel and psychic energies. Death by a thousand cuts, as the old saying goes. He was the worst opponent for Arthon, able to match him at all ranges. Even the Bio-Electric Field would only buy Arthon a few seconds before a possibly deadly attack hit him.
So, Arthon decided that he would nullify the attacks altogether. It took him the entire day and night before the fight, but he decided there was no elegant solution to this problem. So, he devised an inelegant counter.
Namely, Arthon decided to tank and regenerate from the attacks. He would channel every fiber of control and power into a defensive stance, using the bio-electric field and regeneration to deal with the minor attacks, and then use his fists to counter the heavy blades.
When Arthon stood against Hagar, both men bowed to one another as Garon dictated all those centuries ago, and their fight began.
At first, the battle went in Arthon's favor. That was until Hagar realized what he was up to and responded accordingly. He knew the young psyker's power lay in his knuckledusters, the only thing that allowed him to parry the heavy blade attacks. So, Hagar instead concentrated on attacking Arthon's sole weapon on the field.
As the Streetfighter's weapons of choice began to break under pressure, it worked. They were force weapons, but such matter still broke down under a constant barrage of psychic fueled attacks.
Their match went on for hours; neither man could reach one another. Arthon was pushed back, while Hagar spent every moment keeping up the attack. But he just had to wait now.
Hagar had broken one of the force-knuckles by the fifth hour, and now Arthon ran into problems. He was covered in cuts and wounds that were taking too long to regenerate...then by the sixth hour, his sole remaining weapon broke. Arthon left with only his bare fists, was in trouble.
So, Arthon decided to do the only thing possible...he charged Hagar.
His bio-electric field and regeneration powers were broken now, but that gave Arthon enough time to prepare for his strike. He just needed to get a solid hit on Hagar; the old and frail man likely hadn't taken a wound in almost forty years now, would no doubt collapse from a powerful enough punch from the young psyker.
By the time Arthon got within a hundred meters, hundreds of daggers and three heavy blades stuck to the psykers body. Yet still, Arthon charged. The stamina of a young man, mixed with intense training and the desire to win, drove him closer and closer to his target.
Hagar figured he could still defend himself against the unarmed opponent. That was until he saw Arthon's fists started to ripple and shift with power. The Thousand-Blades watched as the Streetfighters fists then glowed with a peculiar red, burning color.
In one last attempt to stop Arthon, Hagar brought his remaining blades up into a steel wall. Enough that even a bolt round would've found trouble getting through the telekinetic reinforced shield.
Hagar watched as Arthon proceeded to rapidly
punch his way through as if the only resistance he countered was cardboard.
And with one mighty blow, the Streetfighter broke the jaw of Hagar and sent the Thousand-Blades flying into a wall. The old man was knocked out. Arthon had won. He was the local champion for his district and city. Arthon the Streetfighter had proven himself more than capable.
The crowd cheered for what seemed like hours while Arthon was brought towards the Circuit Committee for a final review of the match and rewarded him for winning. Naturally, people were curious about that last moment and how it seemed like he was making a final gambit.
Arthon admitted it and then made a remark that would later stun many, "I know, and it was probably a little dumb of me to hold back so much on the last part. But I didn't want to kill Hagar."
He held back. Perhaps not for the entire fight, but Arthon
held back that power. People wanted to know then, what was that new ability he used?
The Streetfighter shrugged, "I don't know, I just felt like going all out. Besides, it was fun! I can't wait for the next fight; I'm going all the way to the Grand Battleground!"
Such sentiments would later become a staple of his impending career: A fighter who didn't desire to kill his opponents, who fought to prove a point and reach the highest peak.
Arthon's legend took hold, and with it, made him a target for dark forces at work on Commous.
---
"This assignment is impossible." Oliver groaned aloud as he read over the reports on this Arthon Jor'li. The Sigillite all but demanded local cells to get him to flip to the Imperium. Such activities normally took years, if not decades, especially for sane psykers. It confused many, but psykers tended not to want to work with the Imperium due to how Empyrean users' are generally treated. Oliver hated to admit it, but this Arthon had no real solid reason to join up.
His associates both agreed with his assessment, granted Oliver wasn't giving their insight too much stock. They were both rookies, still hardly even finished training with the Sigillites, but he had been saddled with them both. It was odd to say that the one known as Kochno was working alongside Oliver now. They had only flipped him a few years ago, but he seemed to be taking this whole situation in stride so far. At least Kochno knew how to do his job quietly. Unlike the
other psyker in his midst.
Kara reminded Oliver far too much of both Sigma and Zeta, which baffled him to no end. She had the unnatural quietness to her character, but the sniper had a barbed tongue when she spoke. Kara thought Oliver nothing more than a snake. An incredibly effective one, but a snake nonetheless.
"Arthon is perhaps one of the most beloved individuals on the entire planet, surpassing even the one the citizens called Garon," Kochno remarked as he read a few field reviews. "Reminds me of a certain someone I know, but the point stands. In our captivity, we have a man that is basically a combination of king, savior, celebrity, and sports god."
The sniper scoffed nearby, "What I would've given to be born on this world." She was skimming over a few reports, "This guy turned down so much money because he only wants to fight. It's admirable."
"Admirable?" Oliver spoke up now, not believing what he heard, "He killed thousands of Imperials, almost killed a Primarch, and is now costing us time trying to flip him."
"Costing ours or your time, Oliver?" Kara spoke up with a small sneer, "You act like this is some colossal waste of time." Tossing the report aside, the psyker took a seat. Kochno, ever the mediator, shifted the topic.
"Oliver, if we are to make any efforts on getting Arthon to flip, perhaps it would be best to analyze
why he seems disinterested in everything that was thrown at his feet? There aren't many people that would turn such fame and fortune, let alone a chance to be the ruler of an entire world, just for the chance to remain a dedicated fighter."
The Sigillite shook his head, "I've already considered that, and it's rather straight forward: Arthon likely found purpose after several incidents and events within his first century. The story on this guy is incredible, but it also hints that we aren't going to be having luck getting him flipped."
"Perhaps," Kochno slowly nodded, "But perhaps reviewing these early events will help us understand a little more. You actually talked to him, Oliver. And the historical reports read more like a story than anything conclusive."
Arthon had already spoken to a dozen other Imperials. Most of them only got limited information from the psyker. It wasn't that he was withholding his story, but rather he seemed disinterested in telling it. The champion had spent the last three weeks working out and meditating, ignoring most questions. The Ultramarine contingent had gotten so frustrated that they ultimately allowed the Sigillite team to try their luck.
Oliver had gotten lucky and was able to meet with Arthon. However, their meetings hadn't been what he considered productive, even after making promises for better food and specific exercise equipment to be brought to the Psyker. "He didn't exactly like talking to me."
"Oh, we have something in common, then." Kara quipped from her seat.
Ignoring her, Oliver did start to focus on another angle to take, "Hmm, maybe you are right, Kochno. We have only limited information on why he does any of this."
"Based on my initial observations, Arthon isn't what I consider a 'bad person,' if anything from his record, he seems quite loyal and friendly. to those that earn such favor." Kochno certainly had a much positive opinion of the champion, but then again, that was likely his Cathric faith influencing him.
Oliver and Kara suspected there was a bit more to Arthon. There weren't many people in this galaxy that could take on a Primarch and then just get captured. There had to be more to this man. No one was
just a fighter with all that power.
"So," Kara started as she grabbed another report, "What's this about him helping fight an 'evil conspiracy'?"
---
It was almost a thousand years ago when Garon had created the Rules of Combat and the Fighting Board on Commous. For Garon, he hoped that psykers could finally have a fair and balanced competition system. It would allow for Commous to maintain order, stability, and more importantly, offer the opportunity to psykers to reach their potential without fear of becoming overwhelmed by the warp.
As time went on, the system worked. Commous prospered and thrived. The psykers became the celebrities and heroes of humanity. Humanity, in turn, was now free to continue towards a new future, alongside their psyker "heroes."
It was hard at first, but human resilience and perseverance ensured that there would be a tomorrow for Commous. Psykers were now the heroes, celebrities, and cultural idols of a hundred billion people. Meanwhile, their champions lived decent enough lives. Only those wanted to reach the peak of the metaphorical mountain that lived in true wealth and luxury.
But a psyker could never rule. That was the agreement between the mundane and psykers of Commous. The mundane governed and managed the psykers, but they also showered their greatest champions with praise, wealth, and adoration. Their champions never sought to control or antagonize or even voice a political stance in exchange for this.
No, they were far too busy enjoying the limelight and fighting to keep their titles and glories. It was a long drop down from grace and splendor once you reached the top. Thus the greatest champions of Commous were also locked in an ever-present battle to maintain their prestige and wealth. All the while, billions of humans fed their egos and stuffed their bank accounts, ensuring that the system was self-sustaining.
Power and greed soon replaced fairness and stability.
Arthon knew things started to change. After his first victory, he remembered that it was almost 300 years ago that the government announced that the TKO Ruling was repelled in solidarity with the Fighting Board. That meant that any champion or fighter could declare their fight one to the
death without being reviewed by the Board of Ethics Committee.
It was a scary time for many. Even Arthon found himself questioning such a development when it happened. Because while it was now far easier to get into fights with those that only wanted to do fights to the death, it effectively meant that anyone could change the rules of the fight to a deathmatch at the drop of a hat.
At first, people could simply opt-out of the fights...but that never did them any favors ratings-wise. Backing down from a fight used to be seen as "honorable" because while citizens enjoyed the blood and death, that was when it was between two seasoned fighters. Some champions even decided to die on the field this way.
The truly legendary did it on the Grand Battlefield.
Arthon, along with all of Commous, could still remember Wyrn the Dragon fighting his last battle against Roger the Ragged Reaper, his archnemesis of three hundred years, in the Grand Battlefield.
The Fighting Board had to use special servo-units to monitor the fight because when both men clashed, the power from their struggle caused everything with 100 meters to burn or become crushed instantly. At one-pointed, the Board had to call in a special aircraft to watch and display the fight in real-time.
It lasted two entire days.
Wyrn the Dragon survived long enough to get to the hospital and die of his wounds. His last words were him hoping that Roger had as much fun as he had, before smiling and just drifting off. The two former champions merchandise value shot up like nothing else and ensured two new spots on the leaderboard.
That was 280 years ago.
Commous would go through another two and half centuries of nonstop
fighting tournaments. And while such fights were amazing to watch, they were a sign of how their world had slowly turned into a battle of wills and skill into ones of violence and brutality. Thousands of psykers died, while in the process, entire generations of humans watched in fascination and then horror as the fights became increasingly destructive and gruesome.
At some point, it stopped being just entertainment. Now it was all battles to the death in most instances.
Arthon became involved in these dangerous activities once they became the new norm for fights. He wanted to keep fighting, but even the Streetfighter became aware of the sheer viciousness that was "encouraged" in the tournaments. Arthon was almost thankful that both his parents and Grandmaster Pike were not alive to see what their world was turning into. At some point, even the mundane humans became vocal about the level of violence, but in the end, they still wanted to see it.
They were paying for the slaughter, the killing, because while they were disgusted and horrified...they could still not look away.
Arthon could even remember when Vynn the Typhoon, the Grand Champion of the Second Circuit, broke his silence and spoke on the matter, proclaiming that the gladiators were no longer behaving like athletes rather warp infused killers.
"I'm not saying that we need to put on the kiddie gloves. No one wants the fights to be weak and unenthusiastic. I've killed a few fighters in my time, and people are going to die in these fights regardless of good intentions or professional sportsmanship. I am saying that the public feels like our entire industry has gone down a rather darker path. A thousand years ago, Garon wanted all of us to move forward into a future that made both mundane and psyker feel connected and wanted on both an individual and societal level. Yet right now, it feels like we've all become distant. Where there was once camaraderie, even among the most heated rivalries, we now isolate from one another. The people of Commous have likewise felt the burn of watching the young and old die in such horrific fashions. Our industry, nay our way of life, wasn't meant to create this air of fear and bloodshed. We are supposed to
inspire and lift the spirits of Commous as a whole."
His words resonated with many, but it didn't stop Vynn from being exiled from the Fighting Circuit. No psyker, especially one so high up, was allowed to criticize or comment on the Fighting Boards' actions now. Arthon would only later hear that Vynn was murdered in his home only a year after making that speech. The story goes that he was poisoned. Cowards killed a Grand Champion rather than face him on the field.
Arthon had enough, as did his companions and others across Commous. He wanted things to return to normal, wanted both psykers and humans to stop being afraid of the monster they had unleashed. The Streetfighter wanted justice for all those that suffered under this profane zeitgeist.
He was going to break the system...
---
"Mr. Jor'li," Oliver gestured towards the seat across from him, "Please, take a seat."
The Sigillite watched as Arthon took a seat, and the psyker, for the first time in several weeks, didn't look annoyed or frustrated. He looked bored, of all things. From what Oliver learned from the Ultramarines, Arthon had spent the first two weeks trying to get Primarch Guilliman to come and fight him again.
To his credit, Arthon even formally sent a letter of challenge towards the Lord of Macragge. His letter was delivered, and the Primarch promptly denied the dueling request. After that, the psyker promptly shut down and spent most of his time exercising and training. The observational reports showed that Arthon trained as hard as an entire squad of Astartes and also ate as much as one.
Oliver had never seen a man drink a mug full of nine raw eggs and then slam it down with a gallon of vitamin water. Oliver wasn't hungry for the rest of the day after seeing that recording.
But other than that, the psyker was still friendly and respectful. However, the Sigillite wondered if he was actually aware that he was technically a prisoner? There were a dozen Sisters of Silence on standby, along with a team of handpicked Ultramarines. It wasn't like Arthon had made any real attempts to escape. He even cooperated with Imperial authorities, but for a man that was the champion of his entire world, Arthon knew practically nothing about the governorship. He seemed almost offended to hear that there were psykers controlling things.
'Somewhere, the Death Guard Primarch is feeling very confused.'
"I was hoping you can answer a few of my questions..." Oliver started while the psyker nodded but focused on the Ultramarine in the room with him. The Space Marine kept "glaring" at the psyker, but that might have just been the helmet.
Arthon gestured with his fingers, "Go ahead." He kept focusing on the marine.
Oliver cleared his throat, "Can you explain when you became aware of this group, Mind Over Matter?"
The psyker shrugged, "A few years before your Imperium arrived."
"Right, and what did you learn by that point?"
Arthon didn't answer; he and the marine were stuck in a staring contest, "Arthon?"
Now the psyker pointed towards the Astartes, "You were at the Grand Battleground, with your Primarch." He then snapped his fingers and smiled, "You were the one with the power spear, aiming for my legs during the first hour."
There was a brief second of silence before the Marine slowly nodded, "You are correct..."
Now the psyker turned back to Oliver, "I can recognize the best fighters styles at a glance now. My master called it one of my most underdeveloped abilities. It allows me to recognize and learn my opponent's fighting style within a few seconds. That Primarch fellow, Guilliman? He was an enigma the entire time. Oh, I got an idea of what he was doing, but he could switch things up in such ways that it became almost impossible to pin him. His so-called Honor Guard? They didn't have what it takes to last too long."
"That's interesting, but can you answer my question?" Oliver was trying to redirect the psykers focus, but he seemed adamant about talking about something else.
"Working in a group is an optimal strategy," Arthon remarked as he now looked back at the marine, "But the power gap was too big. I've fought more than enough psykers to realize that non-psykers are always at a disadvantage. Especially against someone like me that thrives in close quarters."
Oliver didn't like this discussion, "Arthon, please. Mind Over Matter, what were their goals?"
"Do you have psykers in your armies?" Arthon was asking the marine, "I heard you have psykers in the Imperium, but you didn't send any against me."
The Astartes didn't say anything; he just held position and kept looking at the psyker.
Arthon looked over at the Sigillite, "You must have psykers like these men." He gestured towards the Marine guard, "You allow them to hold office, so I can't imagine you didn't even attempt to."
Deciding that he best play along, Oliver nodded, "Yes, some of the Legions have psykers in their midst. One, in particular, the Thousand Sons, is an entire legion of warp users."
"And their Primarch is like their Primarch?"
One of the Marines snorted under his helmet. Oliver wanted to groan now, 'Oh, no...'
That rather human gesture caught Arthons attention, "Ah-ha! So not all Primarchs are created equal then?" Arthon looked around at the assembled Marines, "So, which of the Primarchs is the strongest? Is it your Guilliman?"
"Arthon, please...can we focus on-"
The psyker stopped Oliver as he spoke, "I have been cooped inside a gilded room for the past month. I don't know if my friends are alive, I'm a prisoner, and the people whose leader I defeated in combat are the ones keeping their weapons trained on me." There was a bit of steel in the psykers voice, "I am bored. I have no one to challenge me, and frankly, I don't feel incentivized to answer any questions. But
maybe..." He looked at the marines, "Maybe if the people I've defeated are willing to humor me, I will humor you as well, sir."
"Arthon, look-" Oliver was interrupted once again, this time by an Ultramarine.
"You test our patience, psyker." The one that spoke was the one identified by Arthon, "If not for the will of our Primarch, you would be slain after killing thousands of our brothers."
"They did in combat." Arthon didn't look ashamed or regretful for his actions, "Perhaps you should've considered what you were getting into when you threw down your gauntlet to fight me, especially after I beat your Primarch fairly."
"By our definition, a psyker cheats in any combat situation upon having to call upon the warp. There is nothing natural or authentic, especially for one trained to be nothing more than the amusement of others," The marine scoffed, "How much of your fame and glory was earned entirely by using your powers?"
Arthon didn't seem phased, "Based on what I've seen, I can ask the same of you? How much of your glory was earned because of those fancy guns and power armor? You Astartes are certainly not human; your Primarch is far above humans. So, how am I the cheater? You even ganged up on me and
still lost."
Oliver had enough, "Sergeant!" The Sigillite cutoff the Marine before he went any further, "Please..." Oliver breathed, "Can you give Mr. Jor'li and me some space." He then turned to Arthon, "And word of advice, stop antagonizing the Astartes, or you are going to be bored and also stuck in your room. So shut up for a minute."
Arthon held up his hands in mock defeat and smirked, seeming to enjoy watching the Sigillite show a little spine to the powered armor super-humans.
"I have orders to ensure he doesn't try anything." The sergeant spoke up now, "And to provide you protection."
Oliver wanted to laugh, "You can monitor him via the pict-recorders, and I seriously doubt you are here to provide me protection." The Sigillites were keenly aware of what the Ultramarines thought of the Imperium's intelligence agencies. "Besides, if our guest here wanted to leave, he's not going to have much luck doing it right now. So stop egging him on while I attempt to get some answers."
There was a brief pause, but Oliver expected that the marines were communicating via vox before the Sergeant nodded, "Very well. I was ordered not to interfere with your operations, so that I will do exactly that. Be forewarned, Sigillite, that you are still talking to an Astartes. Most of us do not allow for such tones or orders."
"Forgive me lack of manners, then." Oliver didn't care what they thought of him. His own teammates thought him an asshole; he might as well use that to his advantage. Granted, he was aware of how that would go over in his post-mission evaluation. "Now then, give us space."
The marines said nothing as they moved and left the room, leaving Oliver alone with the Beta Psyker. Arthon looked extremely bemused and what he thought was pride as well. "Your spine isn't made of glass." Arthon mused as Oliver gave him a peculiar look, "You stood up against someone that could easily kill you."
"Believe me, that act of bravado likely cost me a promotion." He was shaking his head, "Man, why the fuck did you have to piss that sergeant off?"
"I wasn't doing anything of the sort," Arthon sounded genuine, "And he accused me of being a cheat because I'm a psyker. I worked hard to get where I am, and when I fought your Imperium, I didn't do
anything that would be considered dishonorable or underhanded." Arthon pointed towards the door that Marines used, "Need I remind you, I was defending my homeworld. When did that become a crime?"
"When your actions helped ensure the deaths of thousands." Oliver remarked bluntly, "Your government already prepared to surrender by the third hour of your fight with the Primarch. It was over, but you kept going. You weren't required to; you aren't a soldier."
"I am, however, a loyal subject to my planet, my people, and my friends." He leaned back into his chair, "By what right does your Imperium have to claim that Commous was doing anything wrong?"
That was the opening Oliver needed, "Considering you had a secret psyker cabal trying to take over the planet, I think we just saved you and a hundred billion people from a lot of grief."
Now there was frustration and anger in Arthon's face, "The actions of Mind Over Matter doesn't constitute grounds for a planetary invasion...my friends and I had the situation under control." He looked away, "We just didn't assume that they had that much influence."
"By the time the Imperium arrived, you were already involved in what amounts to a shadow war." Oliver pulled out a report and started going over the findings, "Mind Over Matter used the arrival of the Primarch and tried to orchestrate a coup, which failed, and then the Ultramarines declared that your world was under the control of enemy psykers."
"It wasn't that simple..." Arthon spoke through gritted teeth, "Mind Over Matter was...insidious, but misguided."
"Can you explain that?" Oliver had Arthon now, "Because we know next to nothing about them or their motivations."
Arthon was tapping his feet, showing Oliver that he was anxious about something, "If I tell you everything, and I mean everything, I want something in return."
Oliver nodded, "That depends."
The psyker understood, "I'd like to know about the fate of my friends."
"Denied." Oliver remarked flatly, "And do not argue the point. It is denied, plain and simple."
Arthon looked furious but nodded all the same, "Then let have something to take my mind off everything. I can only train for so long, especially when there is no one to talk to."
Oliver considered that request. Information had to be tightly controlled, especially with a psyker, but Oliver had something in mind, "Okay, I can make something work. I'll even throw in something a little extra. You wanted to know more about the other Primarchs? Fine. I'll get you some basic information, and you can learn about how you got fortunate with your first encounter with one."
That seemed to appease the psyker, "Better than nothing, I guess."
"You should be counting your blessings," Oliver remarked and used a turn of phrase from Kochno. "Because right now, you are a ship that has an entire legion worth of marines that don't really like you."
"These Astartes don't take such things lightly, do they?" Arthon sounded almost impressed, "I suppose there are honor and brotherhood among your legions then; that is a good sign."
Oliver rolled this eyes, "Then keep that in mind the next time you run that mouth of yours off." The Sigillite pulled out his dataslate, "Now, let's start from the beginning. Who or what was Mind Over Matter, and what was their goal for your world?"
---
There was a sad reality to their way of life. A psyker born on Commous was either a gift to be cherished or a memory of a person lost to the warp's corruption. That was the price for almost three thousand years of prosperity and peace. But there was another layer to this sadness, which was seldom talked about by the citizens or government or the psykers themselves. One had to only look back, far back, even before Garons time, that a psyker had to be "useful" to survive on Commous.
Now, a psyker had to be both useful and "marketable" if they wanted to have a chance. It wasn't as if such psykers were left to fend for themselves, but they were most certainly shunted aside or even considered "worthless" by their peers. Arthon and his generation were called "mediocre," they still had more value than the "undesirables."
And they were undesirable because they didn't fit the mold that existed on Commous now. A psyker that couldn't fight was utterly worthless. Those who practiced telepathy, divination, esoteric disciplines, or whose power barely rose above an Eta were treated with disdain or pity.
It was one of the darkest secrets of their entire world, and while not a heinous or cruel mentality, it still resulted in hundreds if not thousands of psykers feeling 'obsolete' and unwanted. Arthon could understand the frustration. To remain sane and intact as a psyker was a difficult prospect, so to do all that and then be thrown away because you weren't 'necessary' would've been a deep blow to anyone's spirit.
But Arthon never expected that so many would organize themselves and work together to destroy this system. It wasn't even just non-combat psykers, but those deemed weak by the Board or were crippled from another fight, those that were "dishonored" or "framed" for crimes they didn't commit or were victims of crimes. There were even hundreds of thousands of humans helping for numerous reasons. Some wanted more money or influence, others loyal to the idea or a friend, or that they just lost a loved one to the system.
Arthon would spend the next ten years trying to uncover this conspiracy, and he ultimately discovered a name to it: Mind Over Matter.
At first, it almost read like a joke. This group was made up of telepaths, diviners, telekines, and those determined to be the "weaker" generation of fighters born in the past. They called themselves an army of broken men and women, discarded by a world and industry that wanted only power and strength, not intellect and vision. Commous had no use or place for such individuals, even though they were powerful in non-combative rules.
However, therein lie the problem; a psyker could not have any political or economic influence. They were barred entirely. Arthon knew about this a long time ago; academy instructors taught all psykers that it was forbidden. No one ever questioned it, especially since why did psykers want to run Commous? Even Garon, when he had all the power in the world at his prime, refused it. And Arthon understood why, who the hell wants all the stress of running and keeping a hundred billion people happy? You could do the same thing in the colosseums.
Yet this Mind Over Matter had spent the last four hundred years quietly moving their puppets and allies into position across Commous and just about every major institution. They controlled the heads of the Ministries, the PDF, the Economic Boards, and even most of the captains of industry on Commous. Their influence over the Fighters Board was tenuous because of the non-aligned psyker. So they bided their time and planned accordingly.
It took them a long time to get this much power. But by the time Arthon and his friends even learned of this event...Mind Over Matter was almost in complete control over Commous. However, their control was tenuous at best. They knew if the general public found out, there would be riots in the streets, and the non-aligned psykers would easily fight back to restore order. Mind Over Matter might have had hundreds of pskyers on their payroll...but they would be no match for the thousands of professional fighters like Arthon.
Hence why Mind Over Matter had spent the last two centuries trying to cut them down. Everything that had happened these last few centuries. There were only a few Gamma levels on Commous now...and then there was Arthon. Having spent centuries fighting, training, and learning to control and grow his power, Arthon was the first Beta Level psyker in almost 500 years.
Not that he knew about that, yet.
---
"So, let me get this straight," Kara spoke up after Oliver gave a debrief after discussing with Arthon. "There were a group of psykers that basically wanted to take control over Commous through a shadow cabal? Because they were deemed weak enough to not partake in the literal blood-sport of this world and decided to change the rules." She paused and considered that. "Can't say I blame them."
"I have to agree with Kara." Kochno echoed the feeling in the room, "This society produced a lot of powerful fighters, but for the reason of maintaining an entertainment industry. Anyone that didn't fit these strange criteria was ultimately pushed aside. It's honestly quite absurd to dismiss a divination or telepath psyker just because they aren't 'flashy' or marketable."
Oliver hated how surprised they looked when he nodded his head, "I agree. In fact, this Mind Over Matter group likely would've made it easier for the Imperium to get this world into compliance because they likely would've accepted our rule, especially upon hearing that psykers can hold some positions of
limited government."
Taking the time to review things further, now that the Imperium could see and record the governmental files on Commous...Well, it looked like the Imperium got the consolation prize for this world in the form of Arthon. If he had arrived just a decade earlier, the Primarch would've had the chance to peacefully resolve this situation via backdoor dealings with Mind Over Matter, and perhaps humanity would've gained an organization of grateful, clandestine focused psykers.
Because they were the ones that wanted to join the Imperium
willingly if they were given a chance.
The psyche profiles, along with recovered testimonies and interrogations of lower-ranked members, indicated a basic trend among their reasonings for joining the group: the government had failed, industries created a status quo, and people psykers and humans were subservient to it. But Mind Over Matter was an attempt to change that. They were trying to tarnish the Fighting Board's image, the entire system in place, and replace it with something more akin to a visionary state.
Kochno disagreed with that assessment having experience in the political field. His report would describe that the whole situation with Mind Over Matter, while understandable, was built upon lies, grandiose ideas, and centuries of criminal activities. They blackmailed, bribed, disgraced, stole, and
murdered thousands to achieve their goals. It was a miracle that none of them fell to Chaos or become involved in sorcery or daemonology, but perhaps that would've been a point in their favor.
These people didn't take the easy road; they took steps to reduce all possible fallout and damages. Their power and influence were built upon decades of planning and careful manipulation. The killing was served a purpose, but it wasn't a motivation. Even so, they undermined an entire civilization.
Had anyone discovered the conspiracy and blown the whistle, it would've resulted in a civil war and witch hunt. Psyker and human relations would've been irreversible damaged, confidence in the Commous government tarnished forever, and psykers would've fought in the streets of all major cities. Mind Over Matter was aware of this, and they assumed that given enough time and resources, they would be able to stop this from happening. The Imperiums' arrival only helped them, especially upon learning that the Ultramarines Primarch only cared about the psyker academies. So, they just had to convince the Guilliman to change the entire system.
It was perfect in their eyes. The Imperium would be able to change everything along with Mind Over Matter designs but gained all the scrutiny and negative attention from Commous. But the Commous government image would remain intact, allowing for a gradual shift in tone and narrative of the fights and academies towards a more fair and balanced approach. They would help prevent a civil war and insurrection against the Imperium. Even if Mind Over Matter were required to surrender completely, they'd have been able to make an easy enough claim to the Primarch and the Imperium for clemency.
And Oliver expected that they'd have been granted it. The Sigillites could've made great use out of such a cabal of psykers.
Of course, Arthon and his friends ultimately changed everything. They uncovered the conspiracy right around the time the Ultramarines arrived. As Mind Over Matter attempted to manipulate the Commous government into accepting the Imperiums agreement, Arthon and the other psykers started their own shadow war against them. By the time Mind Over Matter attempt to fight back, they were losing handily against the Streetfighter...and then the Ultramarines forced the compliance.
"But you know," Oliver remarked aloud, "I can't blame Arthon and the others for doing all of this." He spared a glance towards Kara, "This group? They murdered innocent people, manipulated psykers to fight and kill each other. Maybe not for personal amusement, but it was for their own gain."
Kara looked away, unable to respond to that. Out of all the people in the room, Kara was the one who understood being used as a tool by others. That was the problem with all of this, who was wrong and who was right?
Arthon and his friends cost the Imperium time and resources, and lives...but he had the right to fight back against this conspiracy. Mind Over Matter murdered people, attempted to control their way of life and that of tens of billions of people. If these people had become corrupted, at any point, Arthon would've done the galaxy a favor. It stung Oliver to realize that the distance between justification and
condemnation was based around a psykers choice of trying to get through life.
However, that didn't excuse Arthon. His action caused this world to turn into an open and passive rebellion, wounded a Primarch, killed thousands of Marines, and lead to a loss of life in the hundreds of millions due to the compliance. This Mind Over Matter group would have tried to resolve things peacefully, even if it cost a few thousand lives. But they'd have been psykers, and there were plenty in the Imperium, even among the Ultramarines, that would've called it a justified loss.
There were so many variables to recognize and examine. Arthon was difficult, unable to see the bigger picture, but he would be extremely loyal to their cause if they could flip him. He was a great asset; there was no doubt in anyone's mind about that. With enough training, Arthon would be a great weapon for the Imperium.
And, ultimately, he was the only thing worth getting now. Mind Over Matter was gone. Oliver couldn't focus on the 'what ifs' anymore.
"It doesn't matter now." Oliver looked down at his report, "Our mission is to get Arthon ready for a long term flip." He tossed the report onto the table, "What's done is done."
---
Men from space arrived over Commous one day. They called themselves the Imperium of Man. At least for this expedition, their leader was Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines. Arthon thought he looked strong on the vids, but that was about it. Arthon had more important things to worry about now.
It was odd to know that he became the leader of what amounted to a resistance movement against Mind Over Matter. By now, he was one of the greatest fighters ever to grace Commous since Garon. Yet there was some irony in that while publically he was the star of Commous, not even Mind Over Matter could stop him now.
Oh, they tried. There were smear campaigns, assassination attempts, and all manner of attempts to stop him. It became apparent that he was a threat when Arthon gained enough popularity and fame to announce that he would change the fights once he won the World Championship.
It was to be the moment that he would uncover the conspiracy to the world to show that not all psykers were behind such nefarious tactics and were also victims of Mind Over Matter. That their way of life would not be undone or perverted by the few. There would be justice for those murdered and those that had been left behind by the cruelties of their sport.
Arthon admitted it to his friends; Garon's legacy had failed so many. They were now paying for it, but it was up to them to believe in its good and fix the past mistakes. This industry, this way of life, had been good to them. Now it was time to live up to the idea that billions of people held in their hearts towards the champions of Commous.
The "resistance" gathered up their fighters and humans that wanted to support this endeavor. The final battle was to occur at the Grand Battleground, where Mind Over Matter had sent their own champion, Apex.
To explain, Blackfyre had only arrived in the circuits just two decades ago. By all rights, he was never destined to have survived his psyker trails...but Mind Over Matter had changed things. Arthon would only later learn from Apex himself that they had personally trained him to resist the warp, show him all possible avenues of gaining strength, and mentally condition him to be the best possible fighter.
Apex was a unique specimen...perhaps one of the rarest psyker breeds in the galaxy; an energy and matter manipulator. His power never reached a Gamma level, but he had enough control and power to mimic most other disciplines. A Jack of All Trades, but Master of None...it didn't matter to Apex. He was a genius, a master tactician, and an imaginative fighter. His powers were an extension to his greatest weapon; his mind.
Meanwhile, he was against Arthon, a living embodiment of mental and physical fortitude. The Streetfighter was more than capable of fighting most opponents with only a bare amount of warp influence. But when he channeled his power, Arthon had the strength of a Titan in his attacks. Likewise, his fists were covered in either electromagnetic powered adamantium or warpfire.
The absurdity of this situation wasn't lost on Arthon or his friends. Here they were, in the midst of the first contact with another human civilization, and just in time for the battle for the soul of Commous. But Arthon knew that this was to decide the fate of who would be the ones to set the tone for the future of negotiations.
How ironic it would be then that Arthon or Apex winning ultimately made such a distinction utterly worthless in the grand scheme of things.
Their first and final battle happened on the eve of the Imperium's arrival. Commous was aware of their coming for several weeks, and communications had been established after courier ships arrived to meet the Imperial ships in-system. It showed how important this tournament was to many, as more people watched it than the arrival of unknown humans from space.
Arthon and Apex ultimately fought their way to the top, and soon enough, it was their time to battle. Ultimately, Arthon found it to be a rather extraordinary battle. Apex was a powerful and cunning foe. He didn't boast or have any sort of showmanship in his style. Everything he did was meticulously planned, no action was wasted, and every attack was calculated.
Yet, for his opponent, Arthon was enjoying himself immensely. Apex lived up to his name, turning into a challenging and dangerous opponent, but the Streetfighter was going to win, and for one simple reason: Apex wasn't a fighter. He wasn't even a gladiator. No, he was an intellect, the type of man better suited for ruling and bringing about a new order to things. In a different and place, he'd have made for an excellent ruler of Commous.
Arthon unleashed his final ace when it came time, the Titan Frame. His body became covered in shimmering scales and plates of armor, and soon Arthon stood among the Grand Battlefield with the power and strength to withstand even the greatest of attacks. He was no longer a Gamma; now, he was a Beta.
Even if Apex wasn't outclassed in skill, the power gap was too much. He tried everything, including creating a conversion beam attack with his powers, but the Titan Frame was able to resist long enough for Arthon to get in close and knock out Apex, cold. The Streetfighter wasn't going to kill Apex, another victim in both their worlds discrimination and Mind Over Matters machinations.
No, Arthon saved all his fury. His friends and the resistance were already on the move anyway. Their shadow war was starting and would soon conclude, just in time for everything else to go wrong.
---
Arthon was bored. The Imperials kept him in his cell again, with barely anything to read or watch or whatever. Stuck in isolation, Arthon was forced to confront the reality of the situation he found himself in and his future uncertainty. He missed his friends, for starters, and had no idea what happened to them.
By the time their 'war' against Mind Over Matter concluded, the situation with the Imperium of Man had reached the point of no return. Something caused the Imperials to declare war and demand that the world enter "compliance" per their Emperors' wishes. Arthon hated what happened, what he
did, but it was all necessary.
The Imperium seemed to shift between hating psykers and mistrusting them, but at the same time allowing for some of them to rule. In the Streetfighters' opinion, it was a bad sign all around. Arthon understood why Mind Over Matter had done what they felt was necessary, but they were still wrong, and it only proved Garons point. Psykers were better off separated from humans, less they harm each other and the mundane.
Yet the Imperium of Man wanted to use him for something. They claimed that his power could help humanity, both mundanes, and psykers, towards a better future. The one known as Oliver seemed to have this notion that with enough time and effort, humanity could achieve harmony between their respective peoples.
Of course, that depended on Arthon playing ball with them. Not that it mattered anyway, Arthon was aware that his actions had already made the Imperiums job all the harder. His friends had been able to broadcast the fight against the Primarch and his honor guard, allowing a hundred billion people to see Arthon prove that the Imperium wasn't some all-powerful force.
But Arthon wasn't sure what he had been trying actually to prove during that battle. The sad truth was that he just wanted to fight a being who claimed to have fought aliens and creatures from beyond the stars. The people of Commous had only limited information about what was happening outside their system, opting to focus more on internal matters. Not that it did them any good in the long run.
Like Arthon, his world focused on finding reasoning in the battles and coliseums. They were no longer interested in trying to find a purpose beyond their own borders. Perhaps that was a mistake in the long run. Commous had become insular, a nation dedicated to producing the strongest psykers possible, but for no grandiose purpose other than entertainment.
He felt no shame in enjoying what he did, but Arthon considered that maybe Mind Over Matter was right about one thing; they as a people and society had stagnated. In another thousand years, perhaps more and more psykers would've ended up just like they were, discarded and forgotten by industry and society that had gone down a darker path.
As he contemplated the future of Commous, he heard the sounds of the warded door to his room start to activate and then move. Arthon wasn't due for anything, nor was it time for his meals or exercise. It was unscheduled. At the very least, he doubted that they were going to kill him suddenly.
Arthon had been lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, when he heard heavy footsteps enter his room. "If this is another interrogation, I don't suppose there is a chance we can put this off?"
"I could," A rather powerful voice remarked, "But I'm planning on leaving soon enough, and I wanted to get one last good look at you at least."
The Streetfighter bounced up into a fighting position upon recognizing the voice, instinct and muscle memory flaring up, as he quickly got to his feet and stared at the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, who was staring expectantly at Arthon. Arthon was a tall man but even had to look up at the giant of a human.
Arthon was now all smiles, "You got my letters!"
Roboute lifted one of his eyebrows at the excited psyker.
---
Arthon had expected a few things to happen upon their second meeting; perhaps the Primarch looking for revenge or maybe a personal interrogation. In any case, Roboute took Arthon to what looked like a massive office before asking him to take a seat. There were no other guards around, and Arthon couldn't sense anyone else. It was just the two of them.
The Primarch poured the psyker a drink, an expensive brandy by the look and subsequent taste. "I want to understand you a little more. Those Imperial agents that have been meeting with you, their reports show only one side of your decisions. I was hoping to offer perhaps my own take on what happened."
"Does that really matter?" Arthon asked as he took a sip of his brandy, "Your Imperium ultimately won, Commous is yours, and I'm your prisoner. At this point, I'd like a fight before I end up in some far off-world." The Psyker knew what awaited him, the agents had already made their pitch, and they would likely be making it a few more times before this was all over.
"Why do you want to fight me so badly?"
Arthon looked confused, "You know why? Because it was fun!"
He looked guilty as he nodded, "Aye, I was indeed having 'fun' until more people died than was necessary."
The psyker shook his head, "If you want me to feel guilty about killing your troops, I'd like to remind you that your nation invaded mine." He drank a little more before he set his cup down, "I'm not asking for either of us to forget or forgive, but the fact remains that you still won in the end, and Commous is yours. It would've been yours anyway. Instead, it would've been Mind Over Matter handing it to you on a silver platter."
"They weren't, actually," Roboute remarked darkly as he took a sip of his brandy. "They were trying to do everything in their power to keep someone in charge of Commous, a new Psyker-Governor with them, being Mind Over Matter, as the head of a new advisory council alongside the human general government."
"Wait," Arthon put his drink down, "They were trying to keep you out of a leadership position?"
He nodded, "Something about the necessity of keeping their world from falling apart. I was making good progress, including one of the heads of Mind Over Matter who was part of the diplomatic party, a Nokra Long-Arms."
Nokra was a disgraced champion, a telekine with an affinity for using weapons and long-range tactics. Nokra was also responsible for orchestrating dozens of killings of enemy psykers. During the shadow war, they died just around when the Imperium was making dedicated landfall across Commous.
"Five years." He suddenly remarked, bringing Arthon out of his thoughts, "That was all the time I needed, but certain outside factors forced my hand, and I suppose I was too heavy-handed in my approach. I just wouldn't budge on that psyker-governor proposition, among a thousand other little mandates."
Arthon scoffed and looked away, "All this because they wanted one of their own to have control over this planet..."
"You," Roboute spoke up quietly.
"What?"
He looked at the psyker dead in the eye, "They were going to pick you to be the ruler of Commous."
Arthon could only stare at the Primarch as he heard that, "That...that doesn't make any sense!" He stood up now, "I was the one leading the resistance against them! I even killed dozens of their operatives!"
"Expendable losses?" Roboute shrugged, "And while you were leading the resistance against them, that didn't make you any less their qualified pick for a future ruler."
"But they had Apex! For that matter, no one on their own inner circle wanted to make a move on the position?!" Arthon knew that several of the members of Mind Over Matter was more than capable of ruling the planet. "Are you saying that everything we did, me and my friends and Mind Over Matter, was ultimately for nothing?!"
Now the Primarch nodded, "From a cursory glance? Yes, I suppose so. We'll never truly know since your forces and my own destroyed the entire organization, but you must understand their logic." Roboute leaned back into his rather large reinforced seat as he spoke, "You had the power, the fame, and the love of many psykers and humans. You were considered the return of this Garon fellow, which made you the greatest fighter of all time in most peoples' eyes. Given enough time and the right crises, you could've easily ascended to a significant level on power and then likely seized it entirely with popular governmental and public support."
"The people would never-"
"Support it?" The Primarch looked almost surprised at hearing it, "Arthon, you'll be surprised what people will do if they think it necessary. Do you know how many men and women gained control over multiple worlds just by maneuvering themselves during a crisis? These are just humans whose only claim to that power was because they knew who to kill and bribe. But you have power, you have influence, and the people loved you."
Arthon looked aghast at this situation, "But I wouldn't have been qualified."
"You'd have your former enemies assisting you, along with your friends and the human government. In theory, you'd be the one just making the biggest decisions based on your councilor's input."
"You mean I'd have been a puppet for Mind Over Matter."
Roboute rolled his eyes, "And your alternative would've been to allow for this status quo on Commous to continue, resulting in the same problems inevitably cropping up once you passed away. If you wanted to change things, to prevent Mind Over Matter from perverting whatever dream you had for your world, working with them would've been the better option in the long run. Don't forget; you'd have had the chance to convert them."
Now the Primarch gently laughed, "Granted, not that I would've allowed it, nor does it matter now."
"Then why the hell would you tell me this?!" Arthon was glaring at the Primarch again, "What is the point of this meeting?! If we aren't going to fight, then I might as well leave!"
Roboute nodded, "You are free to do so. You are still our prisoner, but powerful people still wish to have you on our side." He stood up and approached the psyker, "As for why we are having this meeting? I wanted to gauge your response upon hearing this information and also to provide some context of my own for why this all happened."
"Lot good it does me and everyone else that died." Arthon couldn't believe what he was hearing. This had to be a trick of some kind because why would his enemies pick him as their prospective ruler? Even if he were just their puppet, he'd have been given so much power over Commous. "Or should I say is dying?"
"A situation which hasn't been helped by your actions." The Primarch didn't go into specifics or details, "Nevertheless, it's now out of both our hands. You and I have more important matters to discuss."
Arthon didn't respond. Instead, he walked over and grabbed the same bottle of brandy that the Primarch used and poured himself a large glass before speaking, "And that is?"
"I want you to work for us."
Now it was the psyker who rolled his eyes as he drank, "Your agents are already making that pitch."
"And now I am as well." Roboute sounded serious, "Arthon, the galaxy is about to head into the greatest conflict yet. In time, it will be up to men and women with conviction to withstand against the tides of horror and darkness that await us all."
The Psyker drank a fair amount of his brandy, "I'm really not invested in fighting your Imperium's wars." He looked away and sighed, "If anything, I think it might be time to consider what the hell I've been doing with my life." Arthon fought for his friends, but what good had that done them in the end now?
"Arthon," Roboute tried again, "What I did was necessary. But if we both want to try and make this situation work for the two of us, you need to work with the Imperium. Your world isn't just some minor conquest; it will be important in the grand scheme of things, which means I will take steps to ensure that it will be taken care of. Your people will, in time, come to realize that this new order will be only to their benefit."
Shaking his head, Arthon took another drink before refilling his glass, "Or else, right?"
Roboute shook his head, "No. I took steps to prevent such actions, even when my brothers advised me to do otherwise. For all my sins and faults, I am still one of the few people in this galaxy that actually wants to see all those that serve me to prosper and grow into new soaring heights."
"Unless it interferes with your schedule."
The Primarch didn't remark at the dig against him, "Sometimes you have to make a hard choice, one that requires sacrifice. I do believe that would've been you if Mind Over Matter had offered you the mantle of leadership."
"I would've turned it down..."
"Would you?" Roboute asked again, "If it meant saving more lives, ending things peacefully, and trying to fix the broken system of your world?"
"They murdered people." Arthon couldn't let that slide, "What sort of peace is built upon such a thing?"
He looked away, "The only one this galaxy recognizes and respects."
---
The Lord of Macragge would give Arthon a few data-slates for reading before the Primarch was needed elsewhere. Their meeting was an unsettling one. A part of Arthon wanted to think that he was lying, but once he took the time to read some of the recovered Mind Over Matter reports...they were really going to make him king of Commous.
He never even considered if they were trying to reach out to him, to resolve things peacefully. Perhaps they just didn't think he'd agree to anything. They'd have been right. Arthon wouldn't have agreed under normal circumstances...but perhaps with the Imperium's arrival, he'd have reconsidered.
Would it have been wrong if their world was being conquered? Mind Over Matter cared about the people, but they also wanted to control them from the shadows. However, Arthon would've been their voice and given enough time, and the people would've accepted it in time.
Alternatively, a deal with the Imperium and they could've made significant efforts to change things while using their new Imperial masters as the focus for any ire while slowly controlling things from the shadows to prevent rebellion and insurrection.
Arthon hadn't made things worse by fighting back, but his actions resulted in a predictably worse outcome for Commous. He had no idea what would happen now, how many would die, or if his world would ever truly return to being considered "normal" now. The Imperium didn't like psykers fighting in blood matches, so his and Apex's battle would be the last official one ever on Commous.
It was a bittersweet feeling. The Last Grand Champion didn't sound nearly as cool as he thought.
Before he and his friends had taken off for what unknowingly the real battle for Commous, Arthon was called the Greatest of All Time by most of the media, he was Garon Reborn, but Arthon was humble enough to keep calling himself the Streetfighter.
However, in hindsight, he realized now just how influentially he had become in the end. After beating Apex, he could still remember that same feeling as the crowds cheered his name over the vids.
ARTHON!
ARTHON!
ARTHON!
Somehow, he felt their cheers turn into cries of exaltation. He was no longer just a champion, a grand champion, or someone artificially molded into being a "hero." Arthon was their
savior, he was their defender, and if given a chance, they probably would've made him their king.
When Arthon arrived back at his room...he asked to be taken to a gymnasium.
He spent the next 16 hours exercising so much that by the time his guards requested he returned to his room, he finished off his workout by punching a hole through a reinforced adamantium door. By the time he arrived back at his room, Arthon had spent the rest of the training inside his cramped quarters.
The training, which used to clear his mind of the voices, could not stop the thoughts of uncertainty and doubt clouding his mind.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, finally done with this.
