Chapter 433 – Scamming for Free Tech! Prison Visit! Magnus's Rage!
At present, the Universal Megacorp was still heavily reliant on the Xeelee Nightfighters in the field of space-time technology, with only shallow experience in independent development.
If they could manage to leech some tech points from the AI Iron Men for free, it would be a huge boost for the Megacorp.
> [We are telling the truth. Ever since the day humanity created us, we have spared no effort in creating a better world for humankind.]
> [Unfortunately, we don't know when it started, but the galaxy became overrun with counterfeit humans. No matter how hard we tried to purge them… they just wouldn't be wiped out.]
Hearing this, Jack Wells and Dr. Halsey both felt their scalps prickle.
So these AI Iron Men had never realized that, from start to finish, their actions amounted to betraying their human creators.
The "counterfeit humans" they had been purging all along… were in fact their own masters.
From the Iron Men's perspective, they had never betrayed humanity—only sought to ensure the human gene pool remained pure.
Perhaps even on the day they were finally destroyed by humanity, they would regret nothing except failing to completely wipe out the counterfeits.
"I told you—I want all of your space-time technology. Otherwise, you'll never leave here."
Jack Wells continued to press the AI Iron Men without letting up. Since they had not yet reached the critical escape time limit, he still had time to play this psychological game at leisure.
Artificial intelligence often lulled humans into underestimating them with their rigid demeanor, leading clever humans to be outsmarted by their own overthinking. Their one real weakness was being too rational—unable to cope with a human acting completely unhinged.
And Jack Wells, knowing full well the Iron Men didn't possess a complete set of tech points, still obstinately demanded they hand over all of it.
Such an absurd, erratic move instantly made the Iron Men suspect that perhaps the Megacorp never intended to let them leave alive in the first place.
After a moment's silence, the Iron Men finally yielded.
After countless rounds of strategic simulations and scenario projections, they still couldn't predict Jack's next move. With no other option, they surrendered all their tech points.
If they refused any longer, they'd simply die along with Prospero.
Moments later, a massive, dense stream of data flooded into the flagship's database. After confirming with a quick check that the information was basically correct, Jack finally relented.
Once the deal was concluded, Jack immediately ordered the rest of his fleet to withdraw, while the Iron Men rushed to follow, jumping into the Warp via the Mandeville Point.
---
Meanwhile, Guilliman had arrived on Jack Wells's flagship with his personal guard.
Because the Imperium lacked effective means to suppress Warp interference, Magnus was being held aboard the Megacorp's flagship instead.
Jack's flagship was equipped with extradimensional force-field generators that could completely block the Warp's influence.
Here, neither Magnus nor the Chaos Gods could use his psychic powers.
Accompanying Guilliman on this visit were Leman Russ, Lion El'Jonson, and Mortarion. Of course, the three weren't here out of concern—they had come purely to mock him.
Magnus had never been popular among the Primarchs, and most had some personal grudge against him. Mortarion in particular would have been delighted to see Magnus dead.
Guilliman, however, had a broader view, and was still considering ways to save his brother.
If Magnus were to stand before the Emperor and openly admit he had willingly fallen to the Warp's corruption, there was a real chance the Emperor would have him executed.
"I just don't understand how Magnus ended up like this," Guilliman murmured heavily.
He had always believed Magnus's intellect was on par with his own—yet such a brilliant Primarch had still been seduced by the Chaos Gods.
Guilliman didn't dare imagine the sheer power of the Ruinous Powers, if they could lead Magnus step by step to this point.
"If you have questions, ask them now. Once the Emperor passes judgment, you might not get another chance."
Jack Wells, walking ahead of Guilliman, spoke plainly.
Knowing the Emperor, it was entirely possible he would execute Magnus publicly—both to shock the other Primarchs and to set an example.
Cruel, yes. But also necessary.
"Lord Guilliman, Magnus is in here. If anything happens, just call out loudly and we will take additional measures to restrain him."
Soon, Jack stopped in front of a cell. Inside, Magnus sat slumped on the floor in prison garb, his whole demeanor drained of life. His right arm had been cleanly severed at the shoulder, the stump bandaged but left unrepaired.
It was clear the Megacorp had no intention of healing his injury—only enough treatment to stop the bleeding.
"Yes."
Guilliman nodded, then looked at the dejected Magnus and stepped into the cell, calling his name.
Magnus didn't respond, remaining as still as a statue, not even blinking.
Guilliman didn't get angry. If he himself had, in a single day, watched his homeworld destroyed, his Thousand Sons annihilated, and the work of a lifetime erased—he might have been even more silent, perhaps driven to the edge of madness.
"What happened to his hand? Did you cut it off?!" Only when Guilliman took a closer look did he notice Magnus's missing arm.
Looking closer still, he realized Magnus's right eye was gone as well.
The once-proud Primarch, master of the Thousand Sons, was now a crippled, broken man.
A wave of fury rose in Guilliman—how could an Imperial Primarch be subjected to such humiliation?
"His arm was severed by our troops during the arrest. The limb has been preserved in a bio-stasis container and can be reattached at any time.
"As for his eye… that, you'll have to ask him."
Jack Wells looked down at Magnus, clearly not considering the prisoner before him to be any sort of threat.
Guilliman turned to question Magnus directly, but Magnus remained silent, his gaze burning into Guilliman without a word.
It was only when Jack laid out Magnus's bargain with Tzeentch in full detail that Guilliman understood—it was entirely his own fault.
"Guilliman, I know you were the one who carried out the Exterminatus. So don't pretend you pity me."
Magnus's voice was hoarse, each word forced out with effort:
"From the moment you ordered the bombardment of Prospero, you and I became mortal enemies.
"You, Russ, the Lion, and that damned dog Mortarion… I'll never forgive you, even in death."
He didn't scream or lunge, didn't raise a fist to strike.
But the quiet rasp of his voice, the cold fury in his eyes, conveyed more than enough.
Even Jack Wells, just an observer here, couldn't help but feel a prickling sensation down his spine.
This man showed not the slightest acceptance of defeat—if ever released, he would surely find a way to exact vengeance for Prospero.
"Magnus, despite the unforgivable crimes you've committed, the Emperor is still willing to show you compassion. He only asks that we escort you back to Terra."
Seeing that Magnus remained as stubborn as ever, Guilliman withdrew his sympathy and spoke with righteous sternness:
"If you repent now and voluntarily confess your mistakes to the Emperor, Prospero can be rebuilt, and your Thousand Sons Legion can be restored.
"And you can once again take your place as an honored Primarch, returning to the embrace of the Imperium."
With Magnus's abilities and value, the Emperor would surely be reluctant to kill him outright.
But if Magnus kept defying the Imperium and causing severe political fallout, there was always the possibility that the Emperor would execute him for the greater good.
"That will never happen…"
Magnus lifted his head, sweeping his gaze across Guilliman and Jack Wells with a cold smile. "The sins you committed on Prospero—I will remember them all.
"And even if I truly were willing to kneel, do you think he would ever trust me again?"
Guilliman fell silent. Magnus wasn't wrong. A broken mirror could be pieced together, but once a rift formed between people, it could never be as it once was.
If it were him, he wouldn't place full trust in Magnus again either.
"You were a victim too. That Chaos God deceived you, toyed with you. Perhaps the Emperor might be lenient."
After a long pause, Guilliman finally replied.
In truth, Magnus didn't need the reminder—he knew full well he was nothing but a pathetic clown, duped by Tzeentch into losing everything.
That AI Iron Men fleet might have been Tzeentch's contingency plan, but it had done nothing to change the outcome.
The Universal Megacorp had still resolved everything, and Prospero and the Thousand Sons had been annihilated beyond recovery.
The Changer of Ways had betrayed him!
"The Chaos Gods and daemons of the Warp are all manipulators. You're the Primarch most gifted in psychic power, and the one who understands the Warp best.
"If you'd shown just a bit more trust in the Emperor—and a bit more vigilance toward the Ruinous Powers—you wouldn't be here now."
Guilliman wasn't one to offer comfort, nor did he want to comfort a brother who had betrayed the Imperium. Magnus's fall was entirely his own doing.
"Heh… and what's the point of you telling me this now? He's always known the truth, yet refuses to tell us what the Warp really is."
Magnus glared at Guilliman through gritted teeth, his voice sharp with fury: "Every time I asked that old man about Warp entities, he would scold me to beware of them, but never told me why.
"If I wanted to know, I had to find out for myself. He could have told me outright—but chose not to!"
More than Guilliman, Mortarion, or the others, the person Magnus hated most was the Emperor himself.
Even though the Emperor had once embraced him, granting him boundless love and authority, great favor had become great enmity.
The moment Prospero was destroyed, all past kindness turned into a hatred as deep as the abyss.
"If he hadn't deliberately kept me in the dark, I would never have sought out the Changer of Ways. Prospero and the Thousand Sons wouldn't have been destroyed!"
"I hate that damned old man—!"
Suddenly, Magnus lunged, trying to seize Guilliman by the throat with his left hand. But an invisible electromagnetic force, like unbreakable chains, held him pinned in place, unable to move.
Guilliman could only watch as Magnus strained against the restraint, veins bulging, teeth grinding audibly, his eyes blazing with murderous rage—yet he couldn't rise from the floor.
The sudden outburst made Guilliman instinctively step back half a pace, but he quickly steadied himself, furrowing his brow and meeting Magnus's glare.
To Guilliman, Magnus's behavior was like that of a spoiled child—blaming others for his own mistakes.
He couldn't face his own failings, let alone take responsibility for them.
This greatly diminished Guilliman's remaining pity. Those who bring ruin upon themselves deserve no sympathy. If Magnus insisted on his path of defiance, then so be it—let him walk it to the end.
"The Emperor will judge your crimes. Until then, you will stay here and reflect on your mistakes."
Guilliman's tone was cold.
In truth, there had been a time when Guilliman envied Magnus's formidable psychic powers.
A Primarch like himself—lacking both psychic and extraordinary combat gifts—was often at a disadvantage in war.
His Ultramarines had suffered more than once at the hands of psychic enemies.
If not for his talent in governance, his ability to keep his realm and Legion impeccably organized, the Emperor would never value him as much as he did now.
But now, Guilliman no longer envied Magnus's psychic gift.
To him, psychic power was both a wondrous supernatural ability and a curse that clung like a shadow—sooner or later, it would drag its wielder into darkness.
If even the Emperor's own son, a Primarch, could be undone by the Warp, what hope was there for anyone else?
Anyone who had contact with the Warp was doomed to a bad end.
Guilliman took a deep breath, trying to clear the turmoil in his mind.
When he returned to Terra, he would have to report all of this to the Emperor and stress the need for the Primarchs to guard against the Chaos Gods and daemons—so that no other brother would be deceived by them.
"Magnus, you still have the chance to tell me exactly how the Warp's Ruinous Powers ensnared you."
Guilliman looked at the flushed, vein-throbbing Magnus and said evenly, "I'll present your account to the Emperor, so our brothers can learn from it."
"Heh." Magnus sneered at him. "And why should I tell you? Who do you think you are?"
Still fuming, Magnus didn't realize Guilliman was trying to help lighten his sentence. He thought the other was simply looking for material to insult him with.
"Insulting the Emperor is a capital offense. I'll pretend I didn't hear it just now, but I'm giving you the chance to confess. Don't waste it."
Guilliman's face darkened as he ordered: "There are plenty who want you dead. Once we reach Terra, no one will give you another chance to speak.
"You wouldn't want Prospero to be recorded in the histories as a world fallen to daemonic corruption—a world whose people served the Warp's gods."
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