Chapter 427 – Bow in Guilt, or Embrace the Darkness? Strike!
Amon followed Magnus to the side of the viewing port, his expression anxious as he asked, "My Lord, do we still have a chance? Now that you've returned, surely the Emperor will rescind his decree!"
Given the Emperor's magnanimity and grandeur, forgiving them shouldn't be impossible—he had, after all, pardoned other Primarchs for grave transgressions.
However, Magnus knew full well there was no longer any possibility. The Emperor had dispatched four Primarchs with a singular purpose: to eradicate the influence of the Warp.
Today, the warriors of the Thousand Sons were doomed.
"It's all far too late." Magnus let out a deep, echoing sigh, like a whisper lost in the depths of the abyss.
Tzeentch had already made Magnus an offer—if he submitted, the Changer of Ways would save his homeworld and his sons.
Furthermore, Magnus would be freed from all constraints, granted limitless access to the forbidden truths of the Warp—knowledge he had sought all his life.
To gain everything he had ever pursued, and to preserve the lives of his warriors—was that not a better fate than being imprisoned under the Emperor's suspicion, shunned by his Primarch brothers, and condemned as a criminal by mankind?
Magnus couldn't deny it: if he were to follow his heart, he could not bear to live eternally in shame.
At that moment, the other Thousand Sons began to sense Magnus' return.
A unique and subtle psychic link existed between a Primarch and his sons. And with them now near the Mandeville Point, the Warp's influence was amplifying that connection.
They could all clearly feel Magnus' presence.
"The Primarch! The Primarch has returned!"
Cries of elation spread among the Thousand Sons warriors. Magnus could sense their ecstatic joy—but he could not share in it.
On the contrary, the pain in his heart only grew clearer.
Because he knew that even though he had returned to Prospero, the Emperor's mistrust of him would never be lifted. His warriors would still die.
"I've failed you. I am the sinner of the Thousand Sons. It is because of me that all of this has happened!"
As he spoke, Magnus' jaw trembled, and he felt a sharp, constricting pain in his chest—his very heart aching with torment.
Not every Primarch held a deep bond with his sons. Most viewed their warriors as tools of war—resources, not family.
But Magnus was a rare exception among the Lords of the Legions.
Psykers, by nature, were deeply tied to their emotions.
Those with great psychic potential often experienced heightened emotions, and in turn, those powerful emotions nourished and strengthened their psychic abilities.
Just as sensitive souls are better suited to art or inspiration-driven work, strong psykers thrived on emotional intensity.
Magnus, as a powerful psyker, was a deeply emotional Primarch. He loved his Thousand Sons with all his heart.
To watch them die helplessly before him—this was a pain worse than death.
But Magnus now had no choice.
His foolish actions had already doomed the future of the Thousand Sons. If he could go back, he would never have stepped foot into the Warp to chase after that tempting knowledge.
"No, my Lord! It's our failure—we couldn't protect Prospero. The fault is ours!"
The Thousand Sons still misunderstood the deeper meaning behind Magnus' words. They believed he was merely blaming himself for the consequences of his disappearance.
"Listen closely, all of you. What I'm about to say is important!"
Magnus drew a deep breath. Psychic energy surged through the blood-bound ties of the Thousand Sons, transmitting his words directly into the minds of every warrior.
The truth about the cure for their mutations… the Chaos God of the Warp known as the Changer of Ways… the Emperor's determination to wipe them out… the irredeemable fate of Prospero…
All of it stemmed from the Warp. From Magnus' greedy pursuit of knowledge.
Everyone must eventually face the consequences of their choices. And now, Magnus was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant sparing the lives of his warriors.
"I've made my decision to submit to that Warp God. In doing so, I will preserve Prospero—and ensure your safety."
Magnus deliberately avoided naming Tzeentch aloud, wary of inviting unnecessary trouble.
"You now have two choices. Those who are willing to follow me in betraying the Imperium—stand within the teleportation circle. The god will take you to a safe place."
"Those who refuse—sever the mutated flesh from your bodies with your own psychic power. Under the god's protection, you'll fully recover. But whether the Emperor will forgive you—I cannot say."
Magnus spoke with unspeakable sorrow.
Among all the Primarchs of the Imperium, he had always been the most learned—prideful, even arrogant. But the greatest evils often arise from ignorance wrapped in arrogance.
Now retribution had come. Magnus knew there was no escaping it. As a Primarch, his life would likely be spared.
But his Thousand Sons—his beloved sons—would die because of him. And Magnus could not accept that.
He would rather bow to a Chaos God than watch his sons be executed for his sins.
At that moment, Magnus remained by the viewing port, staring out at the battlefield in space. With every passing moment, the pain in his heart grew—not eased.
Sparks of Warp energy flickered across his body like strands of lightning, each shrouded in an ominous black mist, exuding a dreadful aura.
Amon's senses flared with alarm. He asked again, "My Lord, perhaps it hasn't come to this yet. The Emperor is omnipotent, is he not?"
"Maybe he still has a way to fix all of this."
Amon didn't want to see his Primarch descend into darkness because of them.
As Magnus' mentor, he had always taken pride in having taught such a brilliant student.
Even though Amon had used Magnus' gene-seed to rebuild his body—making him, technically, one of Magnus' "sons"—their bond had never changed.
Seeing his student in such agony, Amon wished he could do something—anything—to help.
"If the Emperor truly were omnipotent… I wouldn't have ended up here."
Magnus had already made up his mind. If the Warp held a power even greater than the Emperor's, then he would embrace it.
During his communion with Tzeentch in the Warp, Magnus had felt the overwhelming presence radiating from that entity. The boundless psychic power had enthralled him, impossible to resist.
Hearing these words, Amon's face filled with horror. He had already begun to sense the twisted psychic energy seeping in from the depths of the Warp.
And the Thousand Sons, now fully aware of the truth, lost the will to fight altogether.
They had truly become pawns of a demon. The Emperor's Exterminatus order had not been wrong—their true error was thinking otherwise.
In that moment, the expressions of the Thousand Sons shifted—from initial rage, to shock, grief, and sorrow.
They had truly become traitors—criminals who had defied the Emperor's orders and betrayed the Imperium!
Some Thousand Sons warriors, unable to accept such a devastating truth, took their own lives after severing the mutated flesh from their bodies. With a final pull of the trigger to the head—bang—their souls returned to Terra.
In the moment the truth was revealed, one-eighth of the entire fleet's Thousand Sons chose suicide. They would rather die than become lapdogs of a demon.
The Emperor had been right all along. Death was their only redemption!
The rest of the Thousand Sons each made their own choice.
Some removed their mutated flesh and resolved to die in battle within the Prospero system. Others stepped into the ritual circle drawn by the demon, waiting for their unknown "rebirth."
But at that very moment, the long-silent Megacorp finally made its move.
Jack Wells had been observing the situation for quite some time. But bound by the fact that he held no authority to act—and the fact that the Primarch's forces had not called for aid—he had no choice but to silently watch events unfold.
Now, however, the long-awaited target had appeared.
Magnus.
During the wait, AI drones and viral programs deployed by the Megacorp had been monitoring everything happening aboard the Radiant Glory, flagship of the Thousand Sons.
The instant Magnus reappeared, Jack Wells received the alert.
He immediately shared the intel with the other four Primarchs, and after receiving operational clearance, the Megacorp forces began their assault.
Every step followed proper procedure. The Universal Megacorp had overstepped nothing.
To Jack Wells, this was a mission that could not fail.
The Megacorp had invested unimaginable resources and deployed an elite reinforced expeditionary force. If they couldn't even capture a single Magnus, what use could the Imperium possibly have for them?
Let alone explaining to the Emperor—if they failed this mission, Jack Wells wouldn't even have the face to return to Governor Li Ang.
> [Stellar spatial coordinate calibration complete. Preparing for short-range jump in 3… 2… 1—!]
In an instant, thousands of Universal Megacorp cruisers and battleships materialized within the Thousand Sons' formation. Their sudden arrival immediately suppressed the surging Warp energy in the region.
The surrounding Warp dimensions were evacuated, leaving the zone a pure, unclaimed vacuum.
ROAR——!!!
The Warp daemons that had possessed the Thousand Sons warriors screamed in agony. Deprived of their connection to the Warp, they were like vampires exposed to sunlight—fading rapidly into death.
They howled and shrieked in torment, their forms evaporating into wisps of blue smoke.
The Thousand Sons, meanwhile, were dumbfounded to find their psychic powers had vanished. Bewildered, they glanced around in confusion, completely lost about what had just happened.
"What's going on…?"
Looking out the viewing ports, they saw Universal Megacorp warships surrounding them on all sides.
Only then did they realize that the recent upheaval was the Megacorp's doing.
"It's the Universal Megacorp! They're going to attack us!"
The promised teleportation circle from Magnus had yet to appear, leaving many Thousand Sons who had hoped to survive no time to reconsider.
They quickly devised a new battle plan: engage the Megacorp warships in close quarters, to avoid being picked off by the long-range weapons of the other Primarchs' fleets.
Soon, the Thousand Sons were embroiled in chaotic close-quarters combat with the Universal Megacorp.
Sure enough, the distant Imperial fleet ceased its bombardment. With no more fire raining down from the Empire's ships, the Thousand Sons might just have a chance to escape the Prospero system.
As for their homeworld, Prospero…
They could barely cling to life—how could they spare a thought for what lay behind them?
"How could this happen?!"
Magnus was stunned. Like the others, he felt his psychic powers being inexplicably stripped away.
With the Warp sealed off by the Megacorp's anti-Warp field, Magnus' powers were rendered useless. The electric arcs once dancing around him had vanished without a trace.
"It's the Universal Megacorp! Their anti-Warp field has locked us down," Amon growled, unable to comprehend why they had chosen to strike now. They had been completely inactive earlier—why move now?
Now that the massive Megacorp war machine had personally entered the battlefield to "clear the table," the Thousand Sons had no hope left.
"It's over. Everything is over. All that's left is for us to go to Terra and die in penance before the Emperor…" Amon was utterly spent, barely able to remain standing.
"No! The Changer of Ways won't sit by and do nothing. It promised to save us—there must be a way!"
Magnus had now completely surrendered to his faith in Tzeentch's power—convinced it could rival the Emperor himself.
Amon stared at him in disbelief.
The Changer of Ways? So that was the name of this Warp god… His student had truly fallen.
In a daze, Amon thought he saw Magnus transformed—his body blood-red, his gaze cold and venomous, a monstrous figure that frightened Amon into stumbling back several steps.
Just then, a familiar voice suddenly came through the comms channel:
> "My Lord, you're no longer in control of this mess."
> "Turn back now—there's still time."
It was Azhek Ahriman.
After being imprisoned by Amon in the dungeons beneath Prospero, Ahriman had found an opportunity to escape. He was now far from the bombarded warzone.
"You should've told us the truth from the beginning, instead of stubbornly pursuing your delusions!"
In truth, Ahriman had sensed something was wrong from the moment Magnus first contacted Tzeentch—but Magnus had secretly erased his memory.
Only now, after everything that had happened, had Ahriman managed to reconstruct the missing pieces and realize what had been taken from him.
It didn't take much imagination to figure out why Magnus had wiped his memory—he didn't want anyone else knowing about his deal with a Warp entity.
Now that the truth had come to light, the entire Thousand Sons Legion had become a thorn in the Emperor's side.
But what disappointed Ahriman most was that Magnus, in his desperation to save his warriors, had thrown away the future of all mankind.
Such a Primarch… didn't deserve his loyalty.
If given the choice again, Ahriman would rather serve the Emperor as an ordinary Custodian than ever again fight for a fool like Magnus.
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