Chapter 947 - 946: Magnus's Orange Soul Fragment Falls Towards the Shadow's Sovereignty

Within the Pyrae Pyramid, Hathor Maat, Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons, and Kalophis, Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult, emerged from the teleportation gate, their expressions grim.

Behind them came Thousand Sons, supporting each other, their armor battered, every one wounded.

With the Custodes, and especially the Sisters of Silence, joining the battle, the tide had turned swiftly.

The Sisters not only suppressed the Thousand Sons' psychic powers but also interfered with the teleportation gates. The psychic mist was dispelled. The illusions faded.

The Wolves, freed from the deceptive phantoms, began their rampage. The lines were breached everywhere.

"Phael he's lost control." A mental pulse shot into their minds.

Hathor and Kalophis exchanged a glance, understanding each other.

They ran from the pyramid.

As they emerged, they saw Captain Phael Toron of the 7th Fellowship, hovering in the air, surveying the battlefield.

Hissing blood flowed from his armor. Whip-like arcs of aetheric energy crackled between his fingers.

He blazed with light, like the core of a plasma reactor.

Toron's gaze swept the battlefield, seeing the skulls on the Wolves, and the emblem of the Raptora Cult and the 7th Fellowship.

He raised his arm. A hundred Wolves were hurled back, their armor disintegrating, their flesh peeling from their bones.

Hathor saw Toron's armor pulse, fleshy tendrils bursting from within.

"Phael, control yourself." He projected a surge of bio-energy.

"Our father said power can only be used when it is bound."

Toron shuddered. The tendrils exploded. His armor's heaving subsided.

His Tutelary, Dtoaa, shot down, a torrent of aetheric energy flooding into Toron.

He looked down at Hathor and Kalophis, let out a terrified scream, and exploded like a supernova.

A blinding light spread, sweeping the battlefield.

Three thousand survivors of the 7th Fellowship trembled.

The armor of one Thousand Son split open, and mutated flesh surged out.

His head twisted and slid down to his waist. His body split apart, becoming covered in countless sharp teeth.

His arms and legs bent at unnatural angles, while his flesh twisted into grotesque tumors.

A grotesque tentacle burst through a Thousand Son five meters to his right. Scaled limbs and wrinkled tissue squeezed out through his gorget, producing a sticky, wet squelching sound.

To his front-left, blue flames erupted like a fountain, engulfing another Thousand Son and instantly melting him into ash.

Across from the Thousand Sons, a Space Wolf knelt on the ground.

Claws protruded from both of his hands, piercing through his gauntlets.

Ten meters to his right, another Wolf's helmet exploded. His blood yellow eyes were devoid of reason.

He lunged at the Wolf beside him, tearing into his flesh with razor-sharp fangs.

A black, swirling miasma settled over all of Tizca.

The communications channels fell completely silent. The helmet's augur feeds were blurred.

A Space Wolf swung his axe, cleaving empty air. Crimson runes flashed.

Another Wolf swung his chainsword, cutting down enemy after enemy, fighting for day after day.

Bang!

After an eternity of battle, he collapsed from exhaustion.

A Corvidae Cult Thousand Son howled in triumph. His prescience showed him a future of Wolf corpses, with only the Thousand Sons standing.

A Warp storm engulfed Tizca. The fabric of reality was deeply warped, tearing at every dimension.

Time was rent into chaotic patterns. All those caught within suffered severe hallucinations.

They saw another version of the future, entirely different events unfolding.

Hathor surveyed the battlefield. The dense concentration of Thousand Sons had become vectors for the Flesh-Change.

The mutating power spread geometrically. The Wolves were also afflicted.

Flesh-Changed Thousand Sons and mutated Wulfen lunged at the nearest living beings.

Thousand Sons, dragging their flesh, unleashed terrible blue flames, consuming the red-coated Spireguard.

Wulfen, their claws sharp, tore through the throats of the siege gunners.

Hathor channeled bio-energy through his body and left hand, suppressing the mutating power within him and Kalophis.

He managed a smile. "The Wolves called us sorcerous monsters. Look at them now."

"Wulfen."

"Russ and his pups are coming. What do we do?" Uthizzar's voice echoed in Hathor's mind.

He looked ahead. Two great wolves leaped, felling a Thousand Son, their jaws opening wide.

Russ swung his roaring chainsword, its spinning teeth slicing through crimson armor.

"Retreat. Fall back to the Pyramid of Photep." Hathor shouted aloud, not just mentally.

He followed the Black Emperor's command, calling out to the pyramid.

"Father, if you want to watch us perish, then we shall die right before your eyes!"

Uthizzar silently relayed the Chief Librarian's command to the Thousand Sons on the battlefield.

"Retreat. Fall back to the Pyramid of Photep."

The Thousand Sons retreated along the broad basalt avenue. The Wolves howled in pursuit.

Flesh-Changed abominations and Wulfen darted between the lines, slaughtering every living thing around them.

Night fell over the City of Light. Black rain poured down, soaking everything in an instant.

Purple lightning split the black vortex. Debris swirled.

The Wolves, Custodes, and Sisters of Silence stopped, watching the flaming giant descend from the Pyramid of Photep.

Magnus's voice echoed in every Thousand Son's mind: "This was always my end, not yours."

"You are my sons, and I have failed you."

He tossed a psychic crystal. "It was taken from the Reflecting Cave. Each of you has one on your chest."

"When the time comes, pour everything you have into the crystal."

"Hathor, lead my sons into the pyramid."

He spoke again, his voice for Hathor alone.

"Ahriman has a priceless gift waiting for you. You must take it, or all we have done will be meaningless."

Hathor's heart leaped. He suppressed his joy with his Pavoni arts, replying mentally.

"As you command."

Boom!

Magnus's form crashed before the retreating Thousand Sons. Bright green flame erupted, incinerating thousands of Wulfen.

The earth cracked. The waters around the Pyramid of Photep churned, black waves surging, carrying debris, pinning hundreds of reckless Wolves to the ground.

Magnus's golden armor and wild red hair blazed with aetheric energy. He swung his staff, unleashing savage arcs of lightning that reduced armored vehicles to wreckage.

His eye swept over the Wolves. The endless Chaos it reflected drove all who met its gaze instantly mad.

The Great Ocean surged. The sky became a transparent window into the Warp.

A mountain-sized, spherical eye and countless nightmare monsters looked down. Thousands of 3rd Terran Auxilia warriors, looking up, fell dead on the spot.

The Wolves suddenly stopped as if they had been placed on a leash.

Only Russ and his wolf-brothers, Freki and Geri, advanced.

Rain hammered Russ's armor. Lightning danced around him.

Hathor, clutching his crystal, ran into the pyramid with Ahzek Ahriman, Kalophis, Uthizzar, and the others.

As he entered, he met Amon, the Primarch's Equerry.

Ahriman carried a heavy chest, secured with a cold-steel lock.

Hathor touched the lock. It opened with a click, revealing a dark red book.

'The Book of Magnus!'

He suppressed his excitement, taking the book.

"I can't see our father or the wolves." Uthizzar looked back, his voice laced with worry.

"I can see part of it." Ahriman saw Russ unleash a hail of blows, shattering Magnus's horned chest plate.

Their father countered with a blast of searing cold flame, shattering Russ's armor and scorching his braided hair.

"The Wolves and the Custodes!" Kalophis shouted.

Wolves and Custodes crossed the water, closing in on the battlefield.

Magnus's hands swept. The black water turned to corrosive acid, burning through armor.

The ground beneath became a foul swamp, from which twisted forms emerged, dragging Wolves and Custodes under.

"This is a battle of Primarchs. Our task is to purge the Thousand Sons warlocks." Captain-General Constantin Valdor stared at the pyramid, his gaze fixed on Hathor, clutching the book. He would not let the traitors escape.

Magnus's fists wreathed in flame and lightning. A torrent of aetheric destruction tore the veil asunder.

Thunder rolled. The earth shook violently. Fissures tore through Tizca.

The Great Ocean washed over the Thousand Sons' senses. A dazzling light swallowed everything.

"I can't see anything anymore," Ahriman said.

"The final battle has begun." The "Dreamwalker's" gazed at the battlefield, golden light flickering within his eyes.

Magnus's fist struck Russ's chest. Armor shards pierced his heart.

Russ grappled Magnus's right arm. The crunch of breaking bone echoed.

An aetheric blade materialized in Magnus's left hand, plunging into Russ's chest.

The blade pierced through his back. Russ let out a deafening roar.

Freki and Geri leaped, their jaws clamping tightly around Magnus's legs.

Magnus punched the white wolf on the head, then with a thought sent the black wolf flying away.

Russ, roaring in agony, guided by fate, swung Mjalnar.

The flickering light suddenly contracted. The flames vanished without a trace.

Magnus covered his single eye. Blood slowly dripped between his fingers.

Russ, wounded, lunged at Magnus, grabbing his brother's waist.

With a roar, he lifted Magnus into the air and slammed him heavily down onto his knee.

The sound of Magnus's spine snapping tore through every Thousand Son's heart, except Hathor's.

He silently poured his spirituality into his crystal.

A dazzling light swept through the pyramid, enveloping every Thousand Son.

Prospero's surface warped. Hathor and the Thousand Sons felt the world flip, falling through an endless tunnel.

The darkness of the universe's end swallowed them. Countless images bombarded their minds.

Hathor ascended to the Third Level of the Thelema mindstate.

Fragmented lights streaked through the Warp. Among them, an orange light, trailing fire, passed through the veil, appearing in the galactic eastern reaches.

The light fell towards a black void-beast.

Countless images swirled within the orange light: he and Perturabo walking into an asymmetrical palace.

He, Nareth and Perturabo discussing art.

They fought at the galactic core.

His thoughts crystallized. It was the Shadow's Sovereignty.