This is the bonus chapter for reaching 250 Powerstones
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As the soul-stealing beam erupted from the Medusae Head, Magnus recalled a prophecy he had seen before setting out.
In the vision, he stood tall and upright, looking down on Guilliman, who gazed up at him with a complicated expression. Prophecies were always fragmented and metaphorical, but Magnus, confident in his wisdom, had interpreted this as a guarantee of victory.
Prophecies never lie!
"Petty trick!" Magnus roared.
Psychic light exploded from his single eye. Although his offensive spells had failed near Zeke, he could still channel energy for defense. He erected a massive barrier of psychic force to block the attack.
But the gray-white beam ignored the psychic wall entirely. It didn't even slow down as it slammed squarely into Magnus's chest.
The battlefield fell silent. Magnus looked down at his chest.
Where the beam had struck, his red skin was draining of color, turning into rough, dull, gray stone.
"Urgh... ah..."
A bone-chilling cold spread from the wound, consuming his body. The Ever-Changing was becoming the Unchanging.
Magnus tried to flush the energy out with his power, but failed. With astonishing ruthlessness, he carved out the infected chunk of flesh. It was futile. The stone continued to spread.
The Medusae Head in Zeke's hand shattered into dust, its durability spent.
The opening was fleeting, and Guilliman wasted no time.
The Emperor's Sword crashed down, forcing Magnus to stagger backward. The Lord of Ultramar followed up with a heavy shoulder charge into the Daemon Primarch's chest.
Normally, Magnus would have dodged easily with his agility. But now, his body felt impossibly heavy. His joints creaked, moving as sluggishly as a wooden puppet.
The impact sent the Crimson King tumbling down the steps. He hit the ground with the heavy thud of marble striking stone.
His body no longer obeyed him. As he struggled to rise, the petrification spread to his limbs.
Guilliman leaped into the air, pressing the attack. The Emperor's Sword pierced Magnus's guard and buried itself deep in his chest, sending up a cloud of stone chips. Golden flames licked along the blade, but against the stone body, they were useless.
Magnus reached for the Warp, but it did not answer.
A final gasp of defiance escaped his throat. He stiffly raised a petrifying arm, reaching out—perhaps to grab something, perhaps to cast one last spell.
But the stone gave him no chance.
The gray spread over his head, swallowing the single eye that once held such wisdom. A hyper-realistic statue of Magnus, frozen in a struggle, stood solidified on the shattered bridge. The detail was terrifying; his face was locked in an expression of anger and bewilderment.
Guilliman looked up at the statue, his chest heaving slightly.
He fought the urge to swing his sword and split it in two. The Emperor's Sword could bring true death to daemons, erasing them forever. But Guilliman wasn't sure what would happen if he struck the stone.
"Is he dead?" Guilliman asked, his voice low.
"A daemon of the Warp isn't so easily destroyed, let alone a Primarch," Zeke said, stepping forward.
He inspected the statue. Victims of the Medusae Head were imprisoned in a unique state; the process didn't kill the original body.
Guilliman turned to Zeke and solemnly thanked him. The victory belonged to Zeke: he had discovered the ambush, led the boarding party through the Nether Portal, and ultimately suppressed Magnus.
Zeke pulled out a Pickaxe enchanted with Silk Touch and struck the statue.
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The Impossible Fortress, The Crystal Labyrinth
Roads of shifting, multicolored crystal crisscrossed the void. Deep within lay the Hidden Library.
Tzeentch, the Great Conspirator, the Weaver of Destinies, was here. He thrived on variables that defied the plan.
The news of Magnus's capture spread like wildfire among the daemons.
"A subordinate of Khorne used magic?"
"Khorne... using magic?!"
Whispers, arguments, and ridicule echoed from the corners. Finally, they coalesced into a single question directed at the supreme entity.
"Magnus's capture... is this also part of your plan?"
The Lord of Change remained silent, gazing into a crystal that reflected the fate of all living things. He watched Zeke petrify Magnus. He tried to read Zeke's threads of fate, to probe his identity, but saw only nothingness.
After a long silence, a voice echoed through the Labyrinth:
"Yes..."
"This is also part of the plan."
–
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit of Tizca
Zeke mined the statue of Magnus and stowed it in his backpack.
"Reinforcements are arriving to clear the ship," Guilliman said, contacting Macragge's Honour.
Suddenly, Zeke heard the sound of shattering ice.
He looked back. The air behind him cracked open, spewing crystals glowing with a ghostly blue chill. Zeke raised his Adamantine Shield. The crystals slammed into it, detonating violently but failing to break through.
A figure emerged from the crystal storm: two heads on one neck, draped in gorgeous robes, clutching a staff.
Kairos Fateweaver, the Oracle of Tzeentch.
His right head saw the future; his left saw the past. Truth and lies intertwined in his words. But as a price, he was blind to the present.
His arrival warped the air, making it heavy.
"Magnus, you are a disappointment," Kairos said, addressing the statue inside Zeke's backpack.
He had seen the past clearly: Magnus turning to stone and falling into the hands of this human.
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Next goal = 500 Powerstones.