Chapter 527: A Great Disaster

After learning the truth of his origins—

after understanding how the Emperor, their creator, truly regarded the Primarchs

and their Space Marine Legions—

Horus had repeatedly asked himself a single question:

Should I rebel?

And every time,

his conclusion had been the same:

Yes. He should.

Not only for himself,

but for the sons who followed him.

He could no longer accept the Emperor's attitude—

to use them, and then discard them like worn-out tools.

As for simply hiding?

That was even more impossible.

As a warrior,

Horus refused to live like a frightened rodent.

He had his pride, his standards, his own vision for the future.

After a long silence, lost in thought, Horus suddenly turned to the First Captain—

Abaddon.

"Tell me," Horus asked calmly,

"once the Imperium is completely stabilized,

what do you think our fate will be?"

Abaddon scratched his head, thinking for a moment before replying,

his tone uncertain yet hopeful:

"I suppose… things will be better than now?

After all, our Legion has earned so many victories."

In Abaddon's mind,

there was no way the Emperor would mistreat them after all they had done.

"...Yes. True enough."

Horus nodded faintly,

but then sighed.

He had once believed in glorious rewards.

Now he saw clearly:

it was all a pretext—

a banquet to dissolve military authority,

a political trap in elegant wrapping.

His resolve hardened.

A flash of cold determination passed through his eyes.

"If the Emperor will not grant us what we deserve…

then we shall take it ourselves."

To him, both the Emperor and Chaos were equally untrustworthy.

Neither had benevolent intentions.

But for now,

he needed Chaos—

needed its power to tear the Emperor from the throne.

Only after seizing control,

after reshaping the Imperium into something worthy of his sons—

would he discard Chaos as well.

Thus Horus chose, for the moment,

to play along.

Once matters were settled,

Chaos would be cast aside.

A Few Minutes Later

Aboard a frontline warship,

Leman Russ was drinking with his warriors,

laughing loudly as cups of strong liquor were passed around.

His communicator chimed.

He casually tapped it open—

but before he could even speak, Horus' voice sounded:

"Magnus has violated the Emperor's command

forbidding research into psychic arts

and forbidding psychic communication with Terra.

His sorcery has inflicted irreparable damage on Terra.

By the Emperor's decree,

you and your Legion are to exterminate Magnus

and the Thousand Sons.

A detachment of the Custodian Guard and the Sisters of Silence

will join you shortly.

You will have full authority over their deployment."

Russ froze.

The mug of ale in his hand stopped mid-air.

He disliked Magnus' reliance on psychic power—

but he had never imagined being ordered to kill him.

The involvement of the Custodians

and especially the Sisters of Silence

spoke volumes about the Emperor's fury.

The Sisters of Silence—

beings whose very presence smothered psychic power—

were natural nemeses of Magnus and all his sons.

'Magnus must have committed a grave disaster…'

Russ thought bitterly.

He set his cup down.

With a resigned exhale,

he replied:

"…Understood."

Meanwhile

Magnus had also received the feedback from his psychic spell.

He went pale.

His mind felt hollow.

He did not need to know the details.

He only needed to feel it—

He had caused a catastrophe.

Even before explanations reached him,

he sensed the Emperor's fury—

a killing intent so vast and overwhelming

that it pierced Magnus straight to the core.

It was like an arrow of pure annihilation

shooting through his heart.

"...What do I do… what do I do…"

As he clutched his head in despair,

a mocking, serpentine voice slipped into his ear.

"I can save you.

But in exchange,

you and your sons

will serve me."

It was Tzeentch.

The architect behind everything.

Tzeentch had never intended to spare Magnus or the Thousand Sons.

To the Changer of Ways,

Magnus and his Legion were excellent pieces in the grand game of Chaos—

too valuable not to exploit.

Magnus shuddered,

the color draining from his face.

He turned wary and tense.

"Who are you?!"

Tzeentch chuckled softly.

"You already saw us when we spoke with Horus, did you not?

You may guess which one I am."

Magnus clenched his fists.

Images flickered through his mind:

Why had he sensed Horus' corruption—

yet the Emperor had not?

Why had his psychic message—

designed with exact precision—

turned into a calamity?

The answer became painfully clear:

He had been manipulated from the very beginning.

He ground his teeth in humiliation and rage.

Tzeentch's mocking laughter echoed again:

"Hahaha…

So you finally understand.

The Emperor has already dispatched forces to punish you and your sons.

You may face death with dignity—

or you may choose to serve us.

Do not expect negotiations.

To them,

you are already a traitor.

Look at who is coming:

Leman Russ.

The Custodians.

The Sisters of Silence.

Their presence alone should tell you

exactly how furious the Emperor is."

..

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